before which our blond and delicate beauties seem pale and fades.  But the Mexican’s coarser skin—­her teint basane—­is too plainly visible in the light of the sun:  you should see her only by the lamps.  It is doubtless rather from an instinct of coquetry than from any other feeling that in the day-time the Mexican women shroud their dusky traits in the folds of their rebosas, leaving only one pilot eye to look upon the outer world.

No introductions are necessary at the public bailes.  Saunter around the room, inspect the show of expectant partners, and when you see one who suits your fancy ask her to dance, without more ado.  If she be not engaged she will at once accept your proffered arm.  She will not say anything.  Ten to one she will not breathe a syllable during your evolutions.  Conversation is not the forte of the senoritas.  But she will smile and smile, and you will have no reason to complain of her waltzing.  The Mexican caballero, when he seeks a partner, will not put himself out so far as to have any words about it.  He merely beckons the chosen one, as the sultan might throw the handkerchief, and she comes to him at once.

Each dance concluded, you lead your partner to a sort of bar where refreshments are furnished, and ask her whether she will take vino or dulces—­wine or candies?  She will take dulces—­“Gracias, senor!” This is de rigueur.  You pay for them of course, and conduct her to her seat.  She pours the dulces into the awaiting pocket-handkerchiefs of the old people, her comadres, and of her younger brothers and sisters.

In a little room adjoining the ball-room, with door invitingly open, is the shrine of monte.  The revelry of the ball-room is unheeded by the preoccupied votaries of the changeful deity as they sit around the green table watching the dealer as he turns the cards, and nervously fingering their little piles of red or white “chips.”  We have no business and no pleasure here.  Let us merely look in and pass on.

Waltzes, “round” and “slow,” are the pieces de resistance of a Mexican baile:  quadrilles are not relished by the dusky danseuses.  There are some New Mexican dances which do not lack prettiness.  Of these, the Cuna is the most popular.  It commences with a see-saw movement suggestive of its name—­cuna- or cradle-dance.  For the rest, the waltz enters much into its composition.

The orchestra generally consists of one or more violins and a guitar or two.  The New Mexican guitar is strung conversely:  the base-string is where we put the treble, and vice versa.  The strings are generally struck with the thumb-nail or with a piece of horn or wood like the ancient plectrum.  This produces a harsh metallic sound, without any rotundity.  Few New Mexican fiddlers or guitar-players are capable of playing in any time except dancing time, and the character of the baile, funeral and