It was deafening, the most penetrating discord of which I have ever been the unfortunate auditor. With the conclusion of the exercises upon the cymbals, which were beaten together in a wide, circular sweep of the arms, then tossed aloft, caught, and clanged together after the fashion of the South African native with his spear and shield, the performing priest returned to the companion who relieved him. His more immediate activities over, he stood aside laughing and talking with his colleagues in a voice which quite drowned the chants in which his companions were engaged. Then, panting with his late exertions, he proceeded to fan himself with the most perfect unconcern, finally examining the hem of his jacket for lice; his search repaying him, he returned to his seat upon the floor and lifted up his voice with the others. After the sacrifices and prayers had been offered before the main altar and those upon the right and left, extra tables of fruit, apples, dates, nuts, cakes and incense, together with the previous dishes of rice, cakes, incense and bread, were spread before a small shrine placed in front of the screen. Rice was piled into a bowl, and, while the other monks were laughing and chattering among themselves in the temple itself during the progress of the sacrifice, the two women approached the shrine and made obeisance three times, then touching each dish with their fingers, bowed again and retired to their corner. At the same time three priests, breaking from the group that were talking by the doors of the building, sat down in the centre of the temple upon their praying-mats, seven or eight feet from the shrine. While one chanted Korean prayers from a roll of paper, another struck and rang the brass bell repeatedly, and the third hammered the gong. Throughout this part of the service the others chatted volubly, until they, too, joined in a chorus and pæan of thanksgiving, breaking off from that to chant, in low, suppressed tones, a not unimpressive litany. Repetitions of the services I have described continued all night. Sometimes there was more noise, sometimes less, occasionally there was none, the tired, quavering voices of the sleepy priests tremulously chanting the requisite number of litanies. The women, who sat with wide-opened eyes, watched with interest and were satisfied. The priests seemed bored. Personally I was tired, dazed and stunned by the uproar. During the progress of this strange service, I was struck by the utter absence of that devotional fervour which was so characteristic of the priests in the principal monasteries of the Diamond Mountains.