“Here I am, well mounted, on a horse whose ears are like pens, who runs like an antelope, and knows none but his master. My new red cap becomes me well; my sword is sharp, my pistols well cleaned, and my belt shines in the sun. As the heart of a pigeon beats when she finds she is robbed of her young, so will my love’s heart beat when she sees me. She will not allow the dog to bark, and she will leave the tent as if in search of wood. Should her kinsmen see her with me, she shall not fall under their displeasure. I will lift her on my horse, and fly with her; for my steed has ears like pens, he runs like an antelope, and knows none but his master. My new tagaïa becomes me well; my sword is sharp, my pistols clean, and my belt shines in the sun.” The natives have a variety of dances, of which two or three are peculiar to the country. The parties assemble on the sands, in the dusk of the evening, when a number of young men and women range themselves side by side, and dance to the sound of drums, to which they keep very good time. The men have a rude kind of iron cymbal in each hand, which opens and shuts: this they beat in the manner of castanets; both sexes singing at the same time in chorus. The movements consist in stepping forward, the whole line at once, at a particular turn of the tune, as if to catch something with their two hands, which they hold out; they balance themselves a short time on the advanced foot, and then step back, turning half round, first to one side and then the other. The whole line then moves slowly, in a circle, round the musicians who form the centre, and who all join in the dance.