numbers, there is no other way of getting along.



CHAPTER XLV.

MISSIONARY'S SERMON; WITH SOME REFLECTIONS

SOME degree of order at length restored, the service was continued, by
singing. The choir was composed of twelve or fifteen ladies of the
mission, occupying a long bench to the left of the pulpit. Almost the
entire congregation joined in.

The first air fairly startled me; it was the brave tune of Old
Hundred, adapted to a Tahitian psalm. After the graceless scenes I
had recently passed through, this circumstance, with all its
accessories, moved me forcibly.

Many voices around were of great sweetness and compass. The singers,
also, seemed to enjoy themselves mightily; some of them pausing, now
and then, and looking round, as if to realize the scene more fully.
In truth, they sang right joyously, despite the solemnity of the
tune.

The Tahitians have much natural talent for singing; and, on all
occasions, are exceedingly fond of it. I have often heard a stave or
two of psalmody, hummed over by rakish young fellows, like a snatch
from an opera.

With respect to singing, as in most other matters, the Tahitians