All that could get on their feet danced, while the babies lay in heaps in the corners of the room, content to look on.

My little friend Ophelia danced with the judge.

For music two fiddles screeched over and over again the good old tune, "We won't go home till morning." And we did not.
The women at the Keelings do not do all the drudgery, as in many places visited on the voyage.

It would cheer the heart of a Fuegian woman to see the Keeling lord of creation up a cocoanut-tree.

Besides cleverly climbing the trees, the men of Keeling build exquisitely modeled canoes.