ontier towns of Mexico not much at any time,
for, notwithstanding the distinctions of class, and the domineering
tyranny of the government authorities, in matters of mere amusement
there is a sort of democratic equality, a mingling of high and low, that
in other countries is rare. English, and even American travellers, have
observed this with astonishment.

All were admitted to the "Salon de baile" who chose to pay for it; and
alongside the rico in fine broad-cloth you might see the ranchero in his
leathern jacket and velveteen calzoneros; while the daughter of the rich
comerciante danced in the same set with the "aldeana," whose time was
taken up in kneading tortillas or weaving rebosos!

The Comandante with Roblado and the lieutenant figured at the fandango
in full uniform. The alcalde was there with his gold-headed cane and
tassel; the _cura_ in his shovel hat; the padres in their swinging
robes; and all the "familias principales" of the place.

There was the rich comerciante, Don Jose Rincon, with his fat wife and
four fat sleepy-looking daughters--there, too, the wife and family of
the alcalde--there the Echevarrias, with their brother the "beau" in
full Paris costume, with dress coat and crush hat--the only one to be
seen in the saloon. There, too, the rich hacendado, Senor Gomez del
Monte, with his lean wife and several rather lean daughters--differing
in that respect from the hundreds of kine that roam over the pastures of
his "ganada." And there, too, observed of all, was the lovely Catalina
de Graces, the daughter of the wealthy miner Don Ambrosio, who himself
is by her side, keeping a watchful eye upon her.

Besides these grand people there were employes of the mines of less
note, clerks of the comerciantes, young farmers of the valley,
gambucinos, vaqueros, ciboleros, and even "_leperos_" of the town,
shrouded in their cheap serapes. A motley throng was the fandango.

The music consisted of a bandolon, a harp, and fiddle, and the dances
were the waltz, the _bolero_, and the _coona_. It is but just to say
that finer dancing could not have been witnessed in the saloons of
Paris. Even the peon, in his leathern spencer and calzoneros, moved as
gracefully as a professor of the art; and the poblanas, in their short
skirts and gay coloured slippers, swept over the floor like so many
coryphees of the ballet.

Roblado, as usual, was pressing his attentions on Catalina, and danced
almost every set with he