260 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 



never-failing spring from which to draw fresh 

 draughts of household knowledge. At last the 

 cotillon was called by the master of the cere- 

 monies, and again I heard ' Take your places, 

 salute your partners ; ' the fiddles started the 

 same kind of jigging tune, and away we went. 



A cotillon is a compound, complicated kind of 

 dance, evidently constructed from the elements 

 and fragments of many other dances : a good deal 

 of quadrille, a strong taste of lancers, a flavour 

 of polka and waltz the whole highly seasoned 

 with Indian war-dance. You never stand still, 

 neither can you lounge and talk soft nothings 

 to your partner it is real, bond fide, downright, 

 honest dancing. I soon discovered why the men 

 left off their jackets : a trained runner could not 

 have stood it in clothing. My jacket and waist- 

 coat soon hung on a peg, and, red-shirted like the 

 rest, I footed it out gallantly. 



My partner was a gem, with the endurance of 

 a ballet-girl in pantomime time. How many co- 

 tillons we got through I never clearly remem- 

 bered; but we danced on, till the grey morning 

 light, stealing in through the windows, warned 

 the revellers that Old Sol was creeping from 

 behind the eastern hills, and that the day, with 

 all its cares and toils, was near at hand once more. 



