FOR a time I occupied rooms at the Central Hotel (now the Palace Hotel), facing the Bund opposite to the jetty, where tenders disgorged their passengers from liners docking at Woosung. While staying there I received a letter from Mrs. May to say that her two sisters-in-law, who had been staying with them at Hong Kong, would be passing Shanghai on their way home, via Canada, and would I show them round during the few hours that their steamer was in port. It so happened that their boat missed the tide at the mouth of the Yangtze, and could only remain at Woosung long enough to allow the tender bringing the incoming passengers one hour at Shanghai before returning to Woosung. It was a rainy evening, and as there was no sign of the tender by 7.45 p.m., I had a meal, and had just finished dinner when I heard the tender's whistle.

I rushed out and arrived at the landing-stage just as the first passenger landed. He was a Mr. Gersham- Stewart, a man I knew. I asked him if the Misses May were on board, and if so, would he introduce them to me? This he did, and on the two ladies telling me that they had not dined, I took them to my sitting room to leave their cloaks, and then gave them dinner.

Afterwards, they collected their cloaks and I took them in rickshaws towards the Chinese city, as I had been told that the two things they most wanted to do were to see the Chinese city and to travel on a Chinese wheel- barrow.

You will remember that our time was limited to one hour. The darkness of the night favoured me, for I was able to point out the city wall, which showed up against the dark buildings. I then paid off the rickshaws and put the girls on to a wheelbarrow which conveyed them along the French Bund. Next we got into some more rickshaws and I took them past the Municipal Police Station (their brother having been Captain Superintendent of Police at Hong Kong), which I pointed out to them. Then to the Shanghai Cathedral and on to the British Bund along the lower end of the Nanking Road — the main thoroughfare of Shanghai — and landed them at the public gardens by the mouth of the Soochow Creek. We then walked to the tender, arriving at 9.0 p.m., just as she was starting. Not bad work, was it? I afterwards sent them each a silver Chinese wheelbarrow as a reminder of the hurried hour they had spent at Shanghai.

I received a letter from home which said that an old friend of mine, called Sutton, who had left the Customs Service some years previously and had gone to a firm on the Amazon River, had settled his wife in a house next door to " L'Incontro," because she could not stand the Amazon climate. The odd thing about it was that Sutton knew that I had settled my mother and sisters in Bournemouth, but he did not know in what locality, so he took a house and then looked round for my mother. To his amazement he found that she was his next-door neighbour!

Newchwang lightship, formerly a wooden vessel, sailed to Chefoo in winter and remained there while the Liao River was frozen over. As I found that water leaked into her somewhere near her keel, I ordered her to go to Dairen and then went there myself to examine her. While there I called on a Japanese official for some service. He looked at my card, which meant nothing to him, but when I handed him a despatch which I had written and signed, he at once said, "I know your signature," and that was all that was required to obtain his co-operation. Which goes to show that one's signature may be of more use than one's presence.

The lightship was an old vessel and as it was not worth going to the expense of docking her, I tipped her by the bow and had her afterpart filled with cement.

This stopped the leak. The vessel was, at that time, inside the breakwater.

A while later I had to visit Chefoo, where the Russian torpedo boat destroyer lay sunk in the harbour. During the bombardment of Port Arthur by the Japanese, at the time when the Russians held the port, the torpedo boat destroyer managed one dark night to rush the blockade, then steamed to Chefoo, where she was scuttled. She had been there some time and where she lay she was in the way of shipping. Authority having been obtained to remove her, I sent a salvage party to demolish her. This displeased the Commissioner of the Port, who wanted her raised; for, he argued, the hull might be sold, quite forgetting that the vessel by this time had sunk very deep in the soft sand, that the suction would make it difficult to raise her, and that the market value of the hull was nil.

However, as the Inspector-General had supported his Commissioner, I visited Chefoo to ascertain from our head diver and salvage man how he proposed to raise her, and what payment he needed for the work. This I sent to him, but was not surprised that the attempt proved a failure. All the heavy timber used to raise her by had broken when the tide rose; it had been placed across four large junks, and the chains had been passed through the wreck, over the timber and then tightened at low tide.

Our divers were constantly at work demolishing wrecks, which were cut to pieces with dynamite. This reminds me that once during the Great War our stock of dynamite ran short, and we purchased 20 tons of the best on the market at that time. Some years later, when the removal of a sunken steamer at the mouth of the Yangtze was in progress, our diver reported the dynamite to be defective. I had it analysed, and as it was pronounced dangerous I had to have the remaining 14 tons of it burned on a mud bank.

Tyler, who had given up his post with the Chinese Admiralty and taken leave, returned to Shanghai and resumed charge of the office in the spring of 1908. I then ran over to Japan for a holiday, and while staying at Ikao, near Yokohama, I started on a walk to Karuizawa.

It was high up in the hills, and I took a man to carry my suitcase and to be my guide. As he found that heavy rains had carried away two bridges, and there would not be time to reach Karuizawa on foot that evening, he took me to a station on the cogwheel railway up the steep mountain. Whilst seated in the station waiting for my train, a number of Japanese children surrounded me, for they were not used to seeing many Europeans. In order to pass the time I threw out a handful of small coins hoping to see a scramble, but I was disappointed, for they did not move.

First they looked at the money, then at me, and then at each other. Not a word was spoken, but eventually a girl who was evidently the eldest of the little group, gracefully stepped forward, picked up all the coins and placed them on the seat near me, bowing to indicate that the coins were mine. A porter who knew English then passed by. I asked him to tell the children that I liked cakes and sweets, and gave then a yen (two shillings). Off they scuttled to the neighbouring shops, to return later laden with paper bags full of cakes.

These I signified were for themselves. They disappeared behind a wall, and in a few minutes returned to show me that they each had an equal share. Where else would you find children behaving like that?

While at Karuizawa I wanted to walk up Asama Yama, a high volcano nearby, which stood, if I remember rightly, some 6,000 feet above the village. As it was the usual practice to ride to the base of the mountain in the afternoon, put up at an inn, and start up the mountain at one o'clock in the morning, in order to see the sun rise from the top, I ordered a horse, put up at the inn and started up the mountain at the right time.

It was a windy night and as my guide could not keep his lantern alight, we walked in the dark. It was hard work stepping over the broken lava on the steep slope, and at about three o'clock we were amongst thick clouds, and rain began to fall. Feeling tired, my guide sat down, and I followed suit, but seeing the ridiculous side of the situation, told him that I wanted to return. The picture I had seen of myself was that of a man climbing to the top of a cloud-covered mountain in the rain to get a view, which was, of course, hopelessly obscured. After we turned back, the rain came down in sheets, and I arrived at the hotel wet through, but a wiser man. I made the next attempt in daylight, after breakfast, and on foot, and was back in time for a bath before tea.

I had to pay a visit to Hong Kong soon after, and on my return journey had as fellow passengers a charming American lawyer and his wife, who came from New York.

He told me that they had been to Japan, and would return to New York across Siberia via Kobe and Vladivostock. I told him that as I expected to find my home leave granted on my return to Shanghai, and would then go home via Siberia, we would most likely be travelling on the same weekly Wagon-Lits Express. Sure enough we did.

My leave home having been granted, I managed to get a ticket that had been returned by a passenger.

At that time the route across Siberia via Dairen had not been established, so I had to take passage by a Russian steamer to Vladivostock via Nagasaki. At tea on the day after leaving Shanghai, we all had our meal at a long table in the dining room. Opposite to me sat a young Englishwoman, who presided at the table in a most charming manner, looking after the individual wants of us all as if we were guests at her own house. There were four other ladies on board who were friends, but they were American.

On arriving at Nagasaki, the English lady — a Miss Skegg — landed with one of her friends. Having been there several times in the past I did not land, and while walking the deck I noticed Miss Skegg returning alone, and as I happened to be near the gangway when she came up it, I asked her why she looked so upset. She made no reply, but disappeared below. After a while she came on deck and apologised for not answering my question. I, on the other hand, apologised for my impertinence, justifying myself by saying that she must remember that we were the only two English passengers on board, and that should she be in any difficulty it was my duty to help her.

She then explained that she was the matron of a hospital at Foochow, and on becoming engaged to a Dr. Mackenzie of that town, she had obtained leave to visit her father, who was a retired doctor living near London. She went on to say that, the leave being due, and having to pay her own expenses, she had felt that she might not have enough money in hand after purchasing her through ticket to Moscow. She had therefore asked a friend, who had assured her that she had plenty of money to pay all expenses. As she was still doubtful, she thought that, should the worst come to the worst, she might borrow a loan from her American friends. That day when ashore with one of them, she had asked for the loan of a yen (2s.) with which to buy some little thing, promising to pay her back on their return to the ship. The friend had refused to lend her the yen

"Well," I said, "it is lucky this has happened now.

Having told me this, you must now tell me how much money you have with you." This she did, and I gave her my advice, telling her that she must remember that she had to spend a night at a hotel at Vladivostock and another at Moscow, where she had to buy her ticket to London, and also she had to pay for her food on the way. "You have not got enough," I said, "and I insist on lending you some, otherwise I'd feel anxious about you; so take these notes and let no one know I have helped you. You can return the money to me after you get home. You must understand that I cannot help you out on the train. My only condition is, that while travelling on the same train you have one meal a day at my table, which you will pay for yourself."

On the train the four American ladies shared the same compartment for four, while Miss Skegg was put in a coupé for two, with a Russian lady who could speak no other language but her own, and whose husband and friends loaded up the carriage with sweets of all kinds, which she shared with Miss Skegg. When she arrived at Moscow she insisted that the English- woman should share her room, paid her hotel expenses and drove her all over the town. So that Miss Skegg was one up on her friends. The American lawyer and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Snow, were also on the train, and I saw a lot of them on the way across Siberia.

We arrived at Moscow at nine o'clock in the evening, but as there were very few hours of darkness there in the summer, it was broad daylight, and I was expecting to be met by my Russian cousin, whom I had seen at Sevastopol when I was ten years old, and again at Hong Kong when he was a lieutenant in the Russian Army.

He was now a Military Engineer with the rank of colonel.

When my baggage had been placed on the platform I noticed an officer in uniform looking at me. He advanced, glanced at the labels on my luggage and then shook me warmly by the hand. It was my cousin, Colonel Kolontaeff. I suggested dinner, and he told me that none of the restaurants would be open before midnight, and that to dine then might cost me 200 roubles (£20), so we went to his home, where his wife had supper ready for us. I remarked to him that Moscow, surrounded as it is by a high wall, reminded me of a Chinese city. He said that it was the Chinese who were responsible for the construction of that wall — whether this be true or not I do not know, but I once noticed in the Kremlin a large picture representing a hand-to-hand battle between Russians and Chinese, painted very many years ago.

When my cousin took me to the Race Club, I was very much surprised at the number of members who had English names, although they were all Russians.

A Russian friend of mine at Shanghai, named Bray, and his wife, both spoke English as well as any English person, although they both came from Moscow.

I also broke the journey at Berlin, and spent a day or two with Mr. Schoenecke, who was the Commissioner of Customs at Hoihow, Hainan, ten years before. He was most kind and took me everywhere.

Miss Skegg lunched with me once in London, and returned the money I had lent her, and that is the only time I saw her again, as she died soon after her marriage to Dr. Mackenzie.

On my return from home leave I was met at Harbin by Mr. Konovaloff, the Commissioner of Customs.

He urged me to stop off at Harbin and take over the Aids to Navigation marking the Sungari River, from the Russian authorities, on behalf of the Chinese Government. I told them that I was booked to make surveys of the rapids in the West River, and, moreover, it was useless to do anything in the Sungari River so late in the autumn, as in a few days it would be frozen over.

By this time the quickest way to get to Shanghai was by rail to Dairen, changing from a Russian train to a Japanese one at Changchun, and then on by Japanese steamer to Shanghai.