performance. An orchestra of six or seven members was here on the
back part of the stage--and the music! It consisted of the beating of
drums, the sounding of gongs and other outlandish noises. Now and then
above the din you could catch the sound of a clarionet and the feeble
strains of a banjo. It was indeed pandemonium! Yet above all the noise
and confusion you could hear the high pitched voices of the actors
as they shouted and gesticulated. The audience, I noticed, was most
attentive and decorous. They were evidently well pleased with the
play; and what was quite remarkable they seemed to have neither ears
nor eyes for their visitors. Of course they must have seen us, but
with an indifference that almost bordered on contempt they paid no
attention to us.

In the play one of the actors died on the stage, but the death had
nothing of the tragic or heroic in it. After a brief interval he rose
up and walked off amid the merriment of the audience.

Many Chinamen come here to spend their evening. The admission is fifty
cents, which entitles one to a seat. As the play runs through six
hours at a time, they feel that they get the worth of their money.
They meet their friends there also; and although they are not very
demonstrative towards each other, like the warm blooded races of Italy
and Greece and Northern Europe and the United States, yet they are
very happy in the presence of men of their own race and nation. The
theatre is about the only place where they can meet on common ground,
at least in large bodies, and then, as we have already intimated, the
theatre is something more than a place of amusement in their eyes.
Their forefathers liked such plays, and they believe that the spirits
of the dead are in a certain sense present to share in the enjoyments
of men in the body.