On the 5th of May (one of the Mexican national holidays) I heard that there was to be a big dance about a mile from the mines, at a fence-rider’s house, and I went up with some of the boys to look on. The dance was held on a big levelled piece of ground in front of the house, and round this piece, which was laid out for the dancing-floor (just mud wetted and well packed), there was a ring of posts on which were hung lamps and lanterns to light the dancers. Outside of this again were rows of benches for the dancers to rest on and for the onlookers; the side of the circle towards the house, however, was left open, so that there was a free passage to the refreshments, which were served inside, and consisted of tamales, enchiladas, and unlimited quantities of mescal. Mescal, or tequila, is spirit distilled from the sap of the large cactus known as the century plant in the States, and called _maguey_ by the Mexicans. It was a great surprise to me to see how gracefully these Mexican labourers danced; in spite of the fact that they were dancing on a mud floor and wearing heavy work shoes. Waltzing seemed the favourite, though occasionally they danced Mexican dances. The music was furnished by a string band—all the members of which were labourers in the mines—and was remarkably good. The whole scene was one to be remembered for years. The bright colours of the girls’ dresses, the young men dressed in their Sunday best, with silver-plated buttons on their short jackets and down the outside seam of their tight-fitting trousers, their bright-coloured sashes and enormous felt hats, with which they reserved their partners’ seats while dancing; the ring of lamps, and the circle of spectators blanketed like Indians; the background of oak and mesquite; the cry of the whip-poor-will mixing occasionally with the plaintive wail of the violin, while from the surrounding hills the coyotes joined in chorus. A young Mexican, when he asks a girl to dance, comes up, hat in hand, to make his request, and if it is granted lays his hat in her seat to hold it for her. The minute the dance is over he brings her right back to her seat, picks up his hat and retires. There are no cozy corners, and no talking and walking about, the etiquette being very strict, even amongst the labouring classes. Nearly all Mexican music is sad, but very beautiful, and they all seem to be born musicians. I have seldom met in Texas a Mexican who could not sing or play on some musical instrument, if it were only a mouth-organ. Their singing I cannot admire, at least that of the men. Their main object seems to be to sing in as high-pitched a tenor voice as they can accomplish, and as slowly as possible. They seem to have only two kinds of songs: either very mournful—sung slowly; or very vulgar—sung very rapidly. Of course, all the above only applies to the Peon, or labouring class. CHAPTER XII