have brought the house down, and the island audience roared with laughter and applause.  This filled up the measure for the rival company, and they forgot themselves and decency.  After each act or figure of the ballet, the performers pause a moment standing, and the next is introduced by the clapping of hands in triplets.  Not until the end of the whole ballet do they sit down, which is the signal for the rivals to stand up.  But now all rules were to be broken.  During the interval following on this great applause, the company of Butaritari leaped suddenly to their feet and most unhandsomely began a performance of their own.  It was strange to see the men of Makin staring; I have seen a tenor in Europe stare with the same blank dignity into a hissing theatre; but presently, to my surprise, they sobered down, gave up the unsung remainder of their ballet, resumed their seats, and suffered their ungallant adversaries to go on and finish.  Nothing would suffice.  Again, at the first interval, Butaritari unhandsomely cut in; Makin, irritated in turn, followed the example; and the two companies of dancers remained permanently standing, continuously clapping hands, and regularly cutting across each other at each pause.  I expected blows to begin with any moment; and our position in the midst was highly unstrategical.  But the Makin people had a better thought; and upon a fresh interruption turned and trooped out of the house.  We followed them, first because these were the artists, second because they were guests and had been scurvily ill-used.  A large population of our neighbours did the same, so that the causeway was filled from end to end by the procession of deserters; and the Butaritari choir was left to sing for its own pleasure in an empty house, having gained the point and lost the audience.  It was surely fortunate that there was no one drunk; but, drunk or sober, where else would a scene so irritating have concluded without blows?

The last stage and glory of this auspicious day was of our own providing—­the second and positively the last appearance of the phantoms.  All round the church, groups sat outside, in the night, where they could see nothing; perhaps ashamed to enter, certainly finding some shadowy pleasure in the mere proximity.  Within, about one-half of the great shed was densely packed with people.  In the midst, on the royal dais, the lantern luminously smoked; chance rays of light struck out the earnest countenance of our Chinaman grinding the hand-organ; a fainter glimmer showed off the rafters and their shadows in the hollow of the roof; the pictures shone and vanished on the screen; and as each appeared, there would run a hush, a whisper, a strong shuddering rustle, and a chorus of small cries among the crowd.  There sat by me the mate of a wrecked schooner.  ’They would think this a strange sight in Europe or the States,’ said he, ’going on in a building like this, all tied with bits of string.’