In a town the size of Taos, during the winter season, hardly a night passes by without a dance.  Written invitations in Spanish are freely circulated about the town in order to entrap the strangers, while the inhabitants are invited by other means.  The music consists of a high-strung violin and a species of guitar.  This is perambulated about the town.  The players perform light dancing tunes and accompany the music with their voices, making up the words as they go along.  This music is learned entirely by ear, and is transmitted from one generation to another through the means of these fandangos.  The vocal music is anything but harmonious to the ear, but some of the airs, when played on the instruments, are rather pleasing, and one, on hearing them, finds himself often humming them afterwards.  The powers of music are nowhere better illustrated than among these people.  Their ready ear quickly catches a new tune, and it is not uncommon to hear, in a Mexican town, a senorita giving vent to a negro melody or a favorite polka which she has heard some American sing or whistle.  At Santa Fe there are several noted players on the violin and harp who cannot read a word of music, yet they can play on their respective instruments with taste and skill.  A New Mexican female, in preparing herself for these balls, is very particular in making, by the aid of cosmetics, her complexion as light as possible.  She first uses a red berry which stains her face almost to the color of brick and renders her excessively ugly; this she leaves on several hours, when it is washed off and chalk is applied so freely as to render it easily perceptible.  In her toilet she is also very particular, as far as the exterior is concerned, and in the fandango the stranger’s eyes are taken by storm by the gaudy colors he sees rather than the neatness of the dress.  The floor of the dancing-room is usually the mother earth, which is frequently sprinkled with water to keep down the dust.  The men are in their everyday habiliments, with the addition of any clean thing they may chance to possess; but, usually they are a motley crowd, a glance at whom at first leaves the impression that they are far from being refined.  Except when dancing, they cling to their blankets, and at the least pause in the proceedings, they at once draw forth the materials and make their cigarettos.  Both men and women indulge in these articles; and oftentimes when the dance is in full blast, the air of the room is densely charged with the smell of the burning punchi, a species of tobacco, making it anything but agreeable.  The women are seated on benches along the walls of the building, by themselves, while the men congregate in knots together.  On the commencement of a figure, the Mexican selects his partner and notifies her that she is his choice by making a signal to her with his hand, when she takes her position in the dance.  The eyes and the latent smile on the face of the “dark eyed senorita”