Journalists at Peking seem to be remarkably quiet upon the subject of the resignation of General Chin Yun-peng, the Premier. He suffers, once more, from the usual official epidemic of ill health, and says that this time ko really means his resignation. It has been anticipated for some considerable time, in fact ever since the day when he assumed office, and: the principal wonder is that he should have hung on so long to a thoroughly unsatisfactory position. His early struggles with the Anfu Club can have left no doubt in his mind that Little Hsu and not he was the stronger man, which, if correct, meant that the former would allow him to remain in office only for so long as it suited him. Translated into concrete terms, this would be for the length of time which it would take for General Chin to ruin himself body and soul. He has held the position for a sufficient time to prove the inevitable—that with Little Hsu in opposition it is impossible for a smaller aman to achieve success—and it seems a pity to prolong the farce of a Premier without power. But whether the Position would be improved by the appearance of the next man is most decidedly open to question. Little Hsu resembles Clemenceau in one respect—he can upset cabinets with a remarkable facility.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.