As the journey is made down the river the ravages of war are to be discerned, A bold poster still draws attention to the desirability of bu ing land on the Pootung side, but, at the corner of Pootung Point it is perceived that residence there has its disadvantages, the poster becomes a glorious flourish of optimism. Empty shells of factories and godowns are pathetic sights, The Shanghai and Hongkew Wharf is warworn yet, probably, a couple of days would put it back into full working order. The N.Y.K. Wharf on the opposite (right) side of the river is in a more parlous state. As for the Yukong Wharf with its heroic welcome to visitors nobly clear it is riddled by shot, shell and bullet and stands but the shadow of its former self. Woo-[sung Village has returned to its miseries of 1932—only more so. But before that point is reached it is Impossible not to shed a tear over the Civic Centre the graceful roof of which has been fretted as if a gigantic saw had been at work and at work without any sense of symmetry or design. Clouds of smoke around] the Centre showed that fighting was still proceeding there. The Wing On Cotton Mill appeared to have had a bad time. launches, motor-boats; landing barges cunningly handled to show their spirit like high-mettled steeds, gave much delight. In the broader waters of the Yangtze there might be seen more and more warships of all nations, a liner here discharging her cargo and passengers for Shanghai.
Thus the journey reached the point at which return had to be made. Again came the confused picture of peaceful green fields, well-known suburban pleasances, destroyed structures and activities intended to spread the scope of destruction. Into the waning light of the latish afternoon the journey developed. As the silhouette of Shanghai, black against the bronze of the sun, again came into view, it was difficult to suppress the fear lest some weapon of destruction since the morning had radically changed that silhouette at some point. But no when the Pootung Point was reached despite the booming and bombing and whirring heard as the ship sped through the sptayshooting waters, Shanghai seemed serenely itself, except for the blotches of brown sandbagging on the Bund and the cluster of warships in the river. It was a cheery enough trip from the point of view of the seeker after rest and relaxa tion, It was depressing to him who could realize what stagnation was there revealed, what destruction was proceeding, what relentless processes of decay were "at work, No longer was it the approach to the sixth port in the world, but an unquiet, fear-ridden stretch of water whereon the only placid portent. was the poor blackness of what once was live humanity as it floated down stream, bearing the marks of savagery but itself at peace, Buildings Intact
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.