The last dance had forty men, and two drums, as a chorus. It consisted of sixty men, who had not danced before, disposed in three rows, having twenty-four in front. But, before they began, we were entertained with a pretty long preliminary harangue, in which the whole body made responses to a single person who spoke. They recited sentences (perhaps verses) alternately with the chorus, and made many motions with the _pagge_, in a very brisk mode, which were all applauded with _mareeai!_ and _fyfogge!_ words expressing two different degrees of praise. They divided into two bodies, with their backs to each other; formed again, shifted their ranks as in the other dances; divided and retreated, making room for two champions, who exercised their clubs as before; and after them two others: the dancers, all the time, reciting slowly in turn with the chorus; after which they advanced, and finished. These dances, if they can properly be called so, lasted from eleven till near three o’clock; and though they were doubtless intended particularly either in honour of us, or to show a specimen of their dexterity, vast numbers of their own people attended as spectators. Their numbers could not be computed exactly, on account of the inequality of the ground; but, by reckoning the inner circle, and the number in depth, which was between twenty and thirty in many places, we supposed that there must be near four thousand. At the same time, there were round the trading place at the tent, and straggling about, at least as many more; and some of us computed, that, at this time, there were not less than ten or twelve thousand people, in our neighbourhood; that is, within the compass of a quarter of a mile; drawn together, for the most part, by mere curiosity. It is with regret I mention, that we could not understand what was spoken, while we were able to see what was acted, in these amusements. This, doubtless, would have afforded us much information, as to the genius and customs of these people, It was observable, that, though the spectators always approved of the various motions, when well made, a great share of the pleasure they received seemed to arise from the sentimental part, or what the performers delivered in their speeches. However, the mere acting part, independently of the sentences repeated, was well worth our notice, both with respect to the extensive plan on which it was executed, and to the various motions, as well as the exact unity, with which they were performed. But neither pencil nor pen can describe the numerous actions and motions, the singularity of which was not greater, than was the ease and gracefulness with which they were performed.