our bridge whist! Those were the days when General San Martin gave his assemblies at the palace once a week, and balls were held at which round dances began to take the place of the _minuet_, the _mariquita_, and the _fandango_. As the influence of the new régime made itself felt everywhere, political and literary coteries lessened the number of card parties and music and dancing became more popular in the houses of the leading people. It was not so easy to reform the custom, popular among the ladies of those days, of wearing the _saya y manto_, a coquettish feminine dress of the viceregal period, which had been under the ban of devout churchmen for two hundred years before the independence. Its evil influence seems to have been of a subtle kind, to judge from the conflicting impressions it made on different travellers. It is described by one who was in Lima a century ago and saw the ladies of that day arrayed in all their charming grace and armed with their irresistible coquetries, as “a very handsome and genteel costume;” though not all foreigners described it in such moderate and conventional terms. The _saya_ was a skirt of velvet, satin, or stuff, of black, purple, pale blue, or other colors, sometimes striped; it was pleated in small folds and clung to the figure in such a way as to display the contour to the best advantage. Some of these _sayas_ were very narrow at the bottom so that the wearer was obliged to take short steps in walking, a custom that made the Limeña’s tiny feet look still smaller as she tripped daintily along the street; the bottom of her _saya_ was often trimmed with lace, fringe, pearls, or artificial flowers; the smaller her feet, the richer and more elaborate was the garniture that bordered her _saya_. With this garment went the _manto_, a hood of thin black silk drawn around the waist and then carried over the head and held together in front so as to hide all the face except one eye. It is said that in this costume a lady could pass her most intimate friend without being recognized, and mystery enveloped the identity of every feminine figure seen on the street in those days. A dainty lace handkerchief, a rosary in the hand, a glimpse of satin shoes and silk stockings, and an abundance of jewels completed the toilette. The _manto_ was undoubtedly derived from the Moors, and must have appeared a curious headdress when seen for the first time. The Limeñas wore it in the most fascinating style, and the one eye that was visible between its folds was made to do double duty as a weapon of war or love. The secret of enhancing its potent charm was as complicated as are the mysteries of the _tocador_ in modern Spanish boudoirs. It was customary to darken the brows and heighten the brilliancy of the eyes with cosmetics when Nature proved unkind or too sparing of her favors; though it was the exception, as it is to-day, when a Limeña’s eyes lacked beauty and brilliancy. Gradually