THE SHADOW OF PEKIN.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 24, Issue 17, 4 March 1913, Page 2

THE SHADOW OF PEKIN.

The chief railway station in Pekin must be one of the most fascinating of all the curious places in the world. Its red facade rises within a stcnc’s throw of the grey mass and painted armaments of the princi;al gate of the city. A few yards av ay bare-headed nun squat in the dust of ages, selling nuts or fruit or mysterious ornaments, just as things have been sold there for centuries. The cars of the new-comer arc not freed from the rattle of luggage trolleys before they receive the sound of carts of mediaeval design rumbling over mediaeval stones. During several days of the past autumn this station has formed the stage of scenes of that rare kind in which the hastened march of history may be said to become momentarily visible. The stir of revolution manifested itself here as nowhere else in tbs capital. Here bands of fugitives assembled in those days, including victims from almost every class of citizen. Many thouran Is iicd by So nth-bo., ml trains within tho space, of several days—and many hundreds of these, probably, had hoped never to mount the “fire-carts” of the West. Among the strange and moving visions that haunt termini this spaceacle of wciid bon/ is unique.

THE THIRD-CLASS CARRIAGES HEAD THE TRAIN. A long while before the moment of departure they are crowded so th it another human being could by no safe means be squeezed in. Children are heaped one above another till positively there is room for no more children. Men, climbing up between the carriages, cling to any hook or bar or other projection that oilers. The vans overflow with packages of goods precious or endeared by come unimaginable charm of familia T ity ; there are chattels of the most astonishing variety, exquisite treasures of porcelain and scented wood, too hastily wrapped up, and huge shabby wicker chairs, worth very little money, but prized no doubt in virtue of the European style, which is fashionable. A striking thing is the stillness that reigns, not a ceremonial or sullen silence, but the vague, indifferent calm of flocks and herds when they arc dumb at their going in ox coming out. Even the children are silent. The eyes of old men look fixedly, and with an apparent emotion, to the front. Here and there the head of a young girl leans from a window, the'yellow star of a silk flower fixed in her sleek black hair.

THE EXPRESSION ON ALL FACES IS AS UTTERLY DETACHED AS EVER. Yet few of these people hope to see their homes again. Further down the train are first-class carriages. The merchants and gentry sit huddled fn their furs, some motionless, some apathetically gazing at newspapers. There are curious little/ faces of Manchu grandees, thin and pallid, with dry wrinkled skin and small callous eyes staring through thick-rimmed spectacles. They recall the crabbed faces of Dutch worthies of the stay-at-home and counting house type, as etched by Old Masters. All these people, too, have an air of complete indifference to the pres nt and all things to come. But surely some among them are sensible of the ironies of their situation ? The journals they have brought to .while away this very painful quar-ter-of-an-hour have for years been preparing the way for the present crisis. The very instruments of flight, the cars stamped with labels in a foreign tongue, must be a galling reminder of

THE STEEL TRUST OF THE .WEST lying right at the heart of Pekin. The metals run parallel to the city wall ; between the platform and the base, of the rampart there are only a few shivering trees and crimson flowers of autumn ; there is a little pale sunlight on the battlements. Within the city, in the long dusty streets and open spaces, Uttle suggests the confusion and terror of a crisis. The air. is entirely free from the sinister gloom which broods over Western capitals at similar times of eruption. In the Legation quarter there are no symptoms to be noted —except one which is as quaint as it is significant. Many families of the wealthier native classes have sought refuge in the great European hotel, in front of which their carriages and blue Pekin carts throng the way.

And theee they may be seen at the upper windows, small figures of Manchu ladies and children peeping between the lace curtains, patches of mulberry colour and Mediterranean blue.— ♦‘Saturday Review.”