SANTIAGO. 233 
of turquois blue, striped with flowers; and De Roos with his grey 
silk jacket and sunny British countenance. While Reyes and some 
of the graver men attended the carretons, where the elder ladies were 
all dressed in gala habits. Such was the show at Nnujiioa, when our 
small party determined to ride on to the Casita de Gaiia, the most 
elevated dwelling in the neighbourhood. The road to it is very 
beautiful, between fields of corn and olive gardens, and through a 
pretty hamlet ; whence a lane, bordered by willows just coming into 
leaf, leads to the casita. It is a small house, decorated with coloured 
paper and prints, and only calculated for a few days’ summer resi- 
dence. It is so high on the slope of the cordillera that the master 
can always command snow to cool his drink; and he has two unfail- 
ing springs crossing his orchard. The view from hence is very fine: 
several villages and rich corn land are in the fore-ground; then the 
city, with Sta. Lucia and San Cristoval, and the adjacent hills, which 
in other countries would be mountains ; beyond that the plain, ter- 
minated by the Cuesta de Prado, now capped with snow. 
On our return to the Nnuiioa we found our friends busy dancing 
to the quita. They had procured two musicians to hire, and were 
engaged in minuets, and Spanish country-dances, perhaps the most 
graceful in the world. But what most delighted me were the 
cuando and samba, danced and sung with more spirit than the city 
manners allow; yet still decorous. Dancing can express only two 
passions,— the hatred of war, and love. Even the grave minuet de la 
cour will, by its approaching, retiring, presenting of hands, separating, 
and final meeting, express the latter; how much more the rustic 
dance that gives the quarrel and reconciliation! This it is which 
makes dancing a fine art. The mere figures of dances where more 
than two are concerned, such as vulgar French or English dances, 
have as little to do with the poetry of dancing as the inventors of 
patterns for printed linens have to do with the poetry of painting. 
My Chilenos feel dancing; and even when they dance a Scotch reel, 
they contrive to infuse a little of the spirit of the muse into it, 
H H 
