Thus the glare of the electric lights revealed one of the strangest and most lamentable scenes ever witnessed in the streets of London. It was brief, but pregnant with painful possibilities. Two or three policemen, as soon as they realised in some measure what was happening, assisted by some resolute men who had now emerged from the hall, brought the dancers to a forcible standstill. Their resistance was cat-like, savage; but exhaustion aided the efforts of the constables, and within twenty minutes the roadway was cleared, the crowd dispersed, and Langham Place had almost resumed its normal aspect. For ten days after these occurrences there was nothing to indicate that they were likely to be repeated. Then, in another quarter of London, there was a somewhat similar outbreak, and, unhappily, on a more extensive scale. It took place among the girl-pupils attending a large school of shorthand in Southampton Row. Rumour had it, and probably it was true, that some of them had been present at Queen’s Hall on the occasion already chronicled. After the long, hot afternoon hours in the class-rooms, the shorthand pupils--girls and youths--poured out in the usual throng into the streets. There was a good deal of gossiping, as usual, and here and there a little innocent flirtation. The flower-sellers, who drive their trade near Cosmo Place on the pavement of Southampton Row, as usual eagerly drew attention to their baskets. Then one, whose basket was first emptied, executed a wild pirouette of triumph. Some of the young men applauded vigorously. Here and there a girl was pushed forward, and some of the more reckless danced a few steps, in imitation of the flower-seller. The spark was in the bonfire! and before any one realised what was happening, a score of dancers, male and female, filled the pavement, and by force of numbers moved into the roadway. To escape the horse traffic and motors, they whirled across at an angle into Russell Square. The cabmen on the stand applauded them derisively, bursting into coarse guffaws. Incoherent cries came from the parched throats of the dancers. Some of them now joined hands and swept over the broad southern roadway of the square; others, with grotesque gestures, danced alone, leaping into the air at intervals. A cornet-player, who was standing near the north corner of Bedford Place, raised his instrument to his lips, and the clear, sudden notes that followed seemed to act upon his hearers as a trumpet-call. It served to quicken to an almost appalling degree the epidemic character of the amazing outbreak; for passers-by, moved as by an irresistible impulse, joined in the maddened movement of the dancers. They overflowed into the quiet thoroughfare of Bedford Place. From the residential hotels and boarding-houses on either side people rushed to the doorways and windows. Servants, with shrill cries, hurried up area steps to witness, with loud comment, the stupefying display, until many