t the outline of an air may be
easily distinguished. This primitive music is accompanied by a
performance on rattles, by singing, and by scraping the gueiro. This
instrument is, in the country, roughly made from a dry calabash, notched
in such a manner that a hollow grating sound is produced by scraping the
rough surface with a fragment of bone. The dancers warm to their work in
every sense. Only two couples volunteer at one time, and when they are
utterly exhausted, others take their place. The partners dance
independently of one another, and only join hands occasionally. The
women, attired in long cotton gowns and coloured turbans, assume a
short, shuffling kind of step, which gives them the appearance of
gliding on wheels, while the upper parts of their persons oscillate, or
sway to and fro in a manner peculiar to their tribe. The men, whose
evening costume consists of buttonless shirts and short canvas trousers,
are more demonstrative than their partners. Sometimes they throw up
their arms in wild ecstacy, or leap madly into the air; varying these
gymnastic performances by squatting, frog-fashion, near the ground, or
turning pirouettes. They get so excited and warm over their gyrations,
that their Panama hats, which have been doffed and donned fifty times,
are thrown away, their buff-coloured shoes are kicked off, and finally
their shirts are disposed of in a similar manner.

Nicasio and I contemplate the animated scene with painters' eyes, and
during the pauses of the dance, we mix and fraternise with the swarthy
company.

Having expressed a wish to immortalise on canvas a couple of brown
divinities, picturesquely attired, our hospitable host, Don Felipe, who
has already offered us his country residence, together with the
surroundings, including horses, cattle, tobacco, coffee, and all that is
his, does not hesitate to add to his list of gifts, the model-ladies
that have attracted our observation; so, after his accustomed
declaration, 'They are at your disposal,' he promises to have them
'forwarded' to Don Benigno's hacienda without much delay.

The lateness of the hour warns us that we must be moving, so after a
parting cup with our host and his family, we remount our steeds, and
turn homewards.

During our absence, the ladies and children have been playing the
old-fashioned round game of loto, over which they are intently occupied
when we join them.

Dona Mercedes is calling the numbers from a bag, but not