oor of the chapel; on
one side of the corridor were the women, and on the other the men. For
some time there was no dancing, until, at length, at the instance of
the cura, the major domo gave his directions, and a young man stood up
in the middle of the corridor. Another, with a pocket-handkerchief in
his hand having a knot tied in one end, walked along the line of women,
threw the handkerchief at one, and then returned to his seat. This was
considered a challenge or invitation; but, with a proper prudery, as if
to show that she was not to be had for the asking, she waited some
minutes, then rose, and slowly taking the shawl from her head, placed
herself opposite the young man, at a distance of about ten feet, and
commenced dancing. The dance was called the toros, for the bull. The
movements were slow; occasionally the performers crossed over and
changed places, and when the time ended the lady walked deliberately
off, which either brought the young man to a stand-still, or he went on
dancing, as he liked. The manager or master of ceremonies, who was
called the _bastonero_, again walked along the line, and touched
another lady in the same way with the handkerchief. She again, after
waiting a moment, removed her shawl and took her place on the floor;
and in this way the dance continued, the dancing man being always the
same, and taking the partner provided for him. Afterward the dance was
changed to a Spanish one, in which, instead of castanets, the dancers
from time to time snapped their fingers. This was more lively, and
seemed to please them better than their own, but throughout there was
nothing national or characteristic.

Early in the morning we were roused by loud bursts of music in the
church. The cura was giving them the benefit of his accidental visit by
an early mass. After this we heard music of a different kind. It was
the lash on the back of an Indian. Looking out into the corridor, we
saw the poor fellow on his knees on the pavement, with his arms clasped
around the legs of another Indian, so as to present his back fair to
the lash. At every blow he rose on one knee and sent forth a piercing
cry. He seemed struggling to restrain it, but it burst from him in
spite of all his efforts. His whole bearing showed the subdued
character of the present Indians, and with the last stripe the
expression of his face seemed that of thankfulness for not getting
more. Without uttering a word, he crept to the major domo, t