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, with all parts of the wooden framework held together by strips of raw-hide.
Yet in these comfortless abodes, which did not possess ten dollars' worth of furniture, one met with charming courtesy from old and young. "Ah! happy the eyes that gaze upon thee," was the form of salutation to friends who had been absent for a space—"Dichosos los ojos que ven a V." "Go thou with God," was the gentle mode of saying farewell, to which the American guest would respond, as he shifted the revolvers on his hip and adjusted the quid of tobacco in his mouth: "Wa-al, I reckon I'll git." But the Mexican would arrange the folds of his serape, bow most politely, and say: "Ladies, I throw myself at your feet"—"À los pies de VV., señoritas."
Thus far there has been no mention of that great lever of public opinion—the newspaper. There was one of which I will now
