Life in the tropics, perhaps, inclines to indolence and languor,
particularly if the atmosphere is humid, but in a dry climate
like that of Arizona the heat, although sometimes great, is never
oppressive or debilitating. It has its lazy people like any
other country and for the same reason that there are always some
who were born tired and never outgrow the tired feeling, but
Arizona climate is more bracing than enervating.

The adobe house of the Mexican is a peculiar institution of the
southwest. It may be interesting on account of its past history,
but it is certainly not pretty. It is nothing more than a box
of dried mud with its roof, walls and floor all made of dirt. It
is never free from a disagreeable earthy smell which, if mingled
with the added odors of stale smoke and filth, as is often the
case, makes the air simply vile. The house can never be kept
tidy because of the dirt which falls from the adobe, unless the
walls and ceilings are plastered and whitewashed, which is
sometimes done in the better class of houses. If the house is
well built it is comfortable enough in pleasant weather, but as
often as it rains the dirt roof springs a leak and splashes water
and mud over everything. If by chance the house stands on low
ground and is surrounded by water, as sometimes happens, after a
heavy rain the walls become soaked and dissolved into mud when
the house collapses. The adobe house may have been suited to the
wants of a primitive people, but in the present age of
improvement, it is scarcely worth saving except it be as a relic
of a vanishing race.

In order to escape in a measure the discomforts of the midday
heat the natives either seek the shade in the open air where the