sharpness of a northern February; linnets sing deliciously to the morning; willow withes are turning yellow by the narrow ditches of clear water. Through the brown, dusty plains stretch winding lanes, outlined by high walls of dried mud, behind which shine the rosy glow of peach blooms, or scarlet-tipped hedges of cactus spikes. Low, flat-roofed, adobe houses fit into the blank wall, relieved occasionally by a heavily barred door, or stand in the midst of bare, dry fields, as cheerless and desolate as they. On each side, shallow streams, brought from the hills or from hidden springs, run in sluiceways which at intervals cross the roadway. Here and there a carpet of delicate green, the drooping grace of a plantation of young cottonwoods, or the checkered squares of a thriving market garden show where the precious water has been freely used; for here, as elsewhere, the most barren tract blossoms at touch of moisture. The field laborers are usually dressed in white cotton, fashioned into short trousers and sleeveless shirts. The women move shyly, covered to the eyes in the long blue scarf, or reboso, which is part of the national costume. Half-naked children, with dark skins and
