Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-01-12

chameleon, without much ado hung out the red
nag Of the new government.
And then the conqueror entered the
city! The popular hero. In the great Chinese
hotels just across the river from my terrace
the lights blaze far into the night. Within
them the military-great make merry. The
bands play. quite Unfortunately Marching
Through Georgia." "a Hot Time in the Old
Town Tonight" and Onward, Christian Sol
diers." Sing-song girls stroll among the tables
filling the glasses with wine singing the songs
Of the street. Meanwhile through the city. the
executioners with their long knives complete
their work among the unlucky remnant Of yes
terday's regime and threaten the hard-PresSed
merchants.
Money and money! Seventy thousand men
TO feed and pay!
There is but one way. Force it out of the
people, contributions from the merchants. That
is not enough. So many troops. A tax upon
ricksha men, a tax upon the iceman. Never
have those forced contributions of previous gov
ernmentS taken in those lowly coolies OF the
city, men who live constantly on the uncertain
line between not-quite-enough and starvation
Often before the soldiers had Communicated
these coolies to carry their belongings taken
their rice bowls and even their rice, but never
before, in addition have they had to give OF
their meager earnings. Thus arises the low
Indeed all is not well with the governor of
today.
Then did July add its Observation-Disclosures
We were not to escape the threat Of sickness
given in the flood. The sunshine, never pene-
trating the dark hut-like dwellings, along the
tunneled streets, had had no chance to cleanse
the city. The incoming army from the South
as is the way of all armies, trailing sickness
in its wake-cholera and typhuS Meager feed
ing, anxiety and the tropic. Summer heat
forced down the resistive power of the masses.
And then was the greatest delight of the hot
Summer turned into the final curse.
Watermelons began to appear to sOOthe the
hot palates of the sweating, painting coolies
carrying the burdens Of the soldiers. the bur-
dens of animals In bright red slices they lay
heaped on the trays of the fruit vendors and
over them lowered the flies of filthy city.
Then did cholera really descend upon us. Men
writhed and died in the streets.
But the bands still played, and the soldiers
marched away to the North, and ON the dark,
mysterious waters of the river the Chinese set
afloat the thousands of paper cups of lighted
oil which danced in fairy gardens. commemo-
rating those whom the river had taken
BY August we had decided to seek peace in
Marking. Under too much disaster ones spirit
dies felt If we remained we should become
like the Hunanese-without hope. But there
was cause for thanksgiving. too. In the for
eign community there had been no loss of life.
We had been spared that last catastrophe.
None of members had been taken by SOL
diers as in other places, and none had been
killed, although one or two had been fired on
in the country. Constantly we had feared that
all the preachings of hate the slogans-Strike
destroy-would rouse the masses to murder.
1t last day in Human knock on
the door. The boy to make ready the baths.
Usually he entered softly Master" he
cried today, entering as if shot from cata-
pult. Plenty trouble. In the night, soldiers
came over the wall Of MIR. Moore,s compound.
They have taken away the foreign master"