MHOUGH every day the newspapers have been filled with 1
telegrams from the Far East, our knowledge of what is going on has been in reality very little increased. Behind the veil of mist we see dim shadows battling and armed men hurrying to and fro, but that is all. And even when for a moment the mist is broken, it is only to show, now the bodies of drowned sailors cast forlorn upon the shore of some frozen Manchurian bay, now the flash of steel from the bayonets of troops disembarked at some unexpected place and taking their appointed stations. But though so little is apparent, we know that in the background busy bands are weaving the web of war, and that one day—it may be to-day or to-morrow —we shall learn what the mist has concealed, and that the Japanese have struck their blow. It may be, of course, that the blow will altogether miss its aim, and that the man in heavy armour, with his sword and buckler, will escape from the man armed only with the casting-net and the trident ; but history shows that as a rule it is not the iron-clad giant who wins. Meantime, we may note that it was reported on Friday from St. Petersburg that two thousand five hundred Japanese without artillery landed at Song-ching—a port on the east coast of Korea about two hundred miles south of Vladivostok—on the night of February 19th, and started at once on the march for Mao-chan, in Southern Manchuria. If that is a true report, it may prove the key to the mystery.
