After marching to the Taontai's palace and partaking of some refreshment, the captain was informed that as there was no convenient hall in the city, a building had been prepared outside the gates, where it was hoped that the brave western men would condescend to partake of the humble fare provided for them. Hereupon the procession again formed, and marched through the city to a clear space beyond the walls, where they found an immense bamboo edifice erected. Upon one side of this was an enclosed space, which the Stingers imagined was fenced in to form a promenade ground for them during the intervals of the feast; but upon entering the building, they found there were no windows or doors upon that side of the edifice. The whole place was draped with banners and hung with "living-flower-mats," i. e. mats of split bamboo, upon which flowers were sewn in patterns; these decorations might by a casual observer have been taken for beautiful carpets, so evenly were the blossoms arranged upon them. At the extreme end was a raised cross table for the Taontai and guests of rank, while along the length of the building two tables, laden with sweetmeats and fruits were spread for the accommodation of the crew. The officials were entertained with an infinite variety of courses, all more or less delicious, and none of them badly cooked or repulsive to their taste, while knives and forks were provided, and champagne and bitter beer poured out without stint. Much to the satisfaction of their hospitable entertainer, his guests did every justice to the meal. Upon the entry of the men the whole place was lighted with candles, and a Chinese band struck up a tune, which it screwed out, with more or less rapidity, during the time the banquet lasted. No doubt the Celestials thought it very melodious, and at times the attendants upon the sailors would nod to the noise, as we do to our music, but the effect upon the visitors was, to say the least of it, excruciating.