LITMIR.BIZ

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to the adobe by melted tallow, a bit of moist clay, or else held in tin sconces, from which they emitted the sickliest light upon the heads and forms of the highly colored saints whose pictures were to be seen in the most eligible places. If the weather happened to be chilly enough in the winter season, a petty fire would be allowed to blaze in one of the corners, but, as a general thing, this was not essential.

      The summer climate of Tucson is sultry, and the heat will often run up as high as 120° Fahr.; the fall months are dangerous from malaria, and the springs disagreeable from sand storms, but the winters are incomparable. Neither Italy nor Spain can compare with southern Arizona in balminess of winter climate, and I know of no place in the whole world superior to Tucson as a sanitarium for nervous and pulmonary diseases, from November to March, when the patient can avoid the malaria-breeding fall months and the disagreeable sand storms of the early spring.

      The nights in Tucson during the greater part of the year are so cool that blankets are agreeable covering for sleepers. There are times in Tucson, as during the summer of 1870, when for more than a week the thermometer never indicates lower than 98° by day or night. And there are localities, like forts or camps—as they were then styled—Grant, MacDowell, Mojave, Yuma, Beale’s Springs, Verde, and Date Creek, where this rule of excessive and prolonged heat never seemed to break. The winter nights of Tucson are cold and bracing, but it is a dry cold, without the slightest suggestion of humidity, and rarely does the temperature fall much below the freezing-point.

      The moment you passed the threshold of the ball-room in Tucson you had broken over your head an egg-shell filled either with cologne of the most dubious reputation or else with finely cut gold and silver paper. This custom, preserved in this out-of-the-way place, dates back to the “Carnestolends” or Shrove-Tuesday pranks of Spain and Portugal, when the egg was really broken over the head of the unfortunate wight and the pasty mass covered over with flour.

      Once within the ball-room there was no need of being presented to any one. The etiquette of the Spaniards is very elastic, and is based upon common sense. Every man who is good enough to be invited to enter the house of a Mexican gentleman is good enough to enter into conversation with all the company he may meet there.

      Our American etiquette is based upon the etiquette of the English. Ever since King James, the mild-mannered lunatic, sold his orders of nobility to any cad who possessed the necessary six thousand pounds to pay for an entrance into good society, the aristocracy of England has been going down-hill, and what passes with it for manners is the code of the promoted plutocrat, whose ideas would find no place with the Spaniards, who believe in “sangre azul” or nothing. There was very little conversation between the ladies and the gentlemen, because the ladies preferred to cluster together and discuss the neighbors who hadn’t been able to come, or explain the details of dresses just made or to be made.

      Gentlemen invited whom they pleased to dance, and in the intervals between the figures there might be some very weak attempt at conversation, but that was all, except the marching of the gentle female up to the counter and buying her a handkerchief full of raisins or candies, which she carefully wrapped up and carried home with her, in accordance with a custom which obtained among the Aztecs and also among their Spanish conquerors, and really had a strong foothold in good old England itself, from which latter island it did not disappear until A.D. 1765.

      While the language of conversation was entirely Spanish, the figures were called off in English, or what passed for English in those days in Arizona: “Ally man let ’n’ all shassay;” “Bal’nce t’ yer podners ’n’ all han’s roun’;” “Dozydozy-chaat ’n’ swing.”

      What lovely times we used to have! What enchanting music from the Pan’s pipes, the flute, the harp, the bass-drum, and the bull-fiddle all going at once! How lovely the young ladies were! How bright the rooms were with their greasy lamps or their candles flickering from the walls! It can hardly be possible that twenty years and more have passed away, yet there are the figures in the almanac which cannot lie.

      After the “baile” was over, the rule was for the younger participants to take the music and march along the streets to the houses of the young ladies who had been prevented from attending, and there, under the window, or, rather, in front of the window—because all the houses were of one story, and a man could not get under the windows unless he crawled on hands and knees—pour forth their souls in a serenade.

      The Spanish serenader, to judge him by his songs, is a curious blending of woe and despair, paying court to a damsel whose heart is colder than the crystalline ice that forms in the mountains. The worst of it all is, the young woman, whose charms of person are equalled by the charms of her mind, does not seem to care a rush what becomes of the despairing songster, who threatens to go away forever, to sail on unknown seas, to face the nameless perils of the desert, if his suit be not at once recognized by at least one frosty smile. But at the first indication of relenting on the part of the adored one, the suitor suddenly recollects that he cannot possibly stand the fervor of her glance, which rivals the splendor of the sun, and, accordingly, he begs her not to look upon him with those beautiful orbs, as he has concluded to depart forever and sing his woes in distant lands. Having discharged this sad duty at the windows of Doña Anita Fulana, the serenaders solemnly progress to the lattice of Doña Mercedes de Zutana, and there repeat the same heart-rending tale of disappointed affection.

      It was always the same round of music, taken in the same series—“La Paloma,” “Grolondrina,” and the rest. I made a collection of some twenty of these ditties or madrigals, and was impressed with the poetic fervor and the absolute lack of common sense shown in them all, which is the best evidence that as love songs they will bear comparison with any that have ever been written. The music in many cases was excellent, although the execution was with very primitive instruments. I do not remember a single instance where the fair one made the least sign of approval or pleasure on account of such serenades, and I suppose that the Mexican idea is that she should not, because if there is a polite creature in the world it is the Mexican woman, no matter of what degree.

      The most tender strains evoked no response, and the young man, or men, as the case might be, could have held on until morning and sung himself or themselves into pneumonia for all the young lady seemed to care.

      “No me mires con esos tus ojos,

      (Fluke-fluky-fluke; plink, planky-plink.)

      “Mas hermosos que el sol en el cielo,

      (Plinky-plink; plinky-plink.)

      “Que me mires de dicha y consuelo.

      (Fluky-fliiky-fluke; plink-plink.)

      “Que me mata! que me mata! tu mirar.”

      (Plinky-plink, fluky-fluke; plinky-plink; fluke-fluke.)

      But it is morning now, and the bells are clanging for first mass, and we had better home and to bed. Did we so desire we could enter the church, but as there is much to be said in regard to the different feasts, which occurred at different seasons and most acceptably divided the year, we can leave that duty unfulfilled for the present and give a few brief sentences to the christenings and funerals, which were celebrated under our observation.

      The Mexicans used to attach a great deal of importance to the naming of their children, and when the day for the christening had arrived, invitations scattered far and near brought together all the relatives and friends of the family, who most lavishly eulogized the youngster, and then partook of a hearty collation, which was the main feature of the entertainment.

      Funerals, especially of children, were generally without coffins, owing to the great scarcity of lumber, and nearly always with music at the head of the procession, which slowly wended its way to the church to the measure of plaintive melody.

      Birthdays were not observed, but in their stead were kept the days of the saints of the same name. For example, all the young girls named Anita would observe Saint Ann’s day, without regard to the date of their own birth, and so with the Guadalupes and Francescas and others.

      I should not omit to state that there were whole blocks of houses in Tucson which did not have a single nail in them, but had been constructed entirely of adobes,

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