THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 97 



no harm, and it pleased him so much that we listened 

 to him and took his little books! What of it? We 

 dropped them in the acequia and went on to mass 

 just the same!" 



And if it be true that Mother Church gets a good 

 deal out of her children, they get out of her some- 

 thing in return — their money's worth in fiestas for 

 those who choose to enjoy them. Juan despises 

 these holidays, and rarely observes them. On such 

 days wagons roll by from dawn till dusk laden with 

 loud voiced peons, all in gala attire, the women with 

 the inevitable black shawl, sorry aftermath of the 

 mantilla, drawn over their heads, and in later days 

 dubiously adorned with the American made hat. It 

 should here be mentioned that the Mexican youth 

 prefers a purple suit and a red tie, whereas the girls 

 still cling for the most part to sombre shades. They 

 go to mass, visit friends, talk endlessly, drink wine 

 — at night perhaps hold a bailie. 



On the Eve of the Feast of St. Genevieve our 

 Mexicans treat the town to an illumination. All day 

 the householders are engaged in placing rows of pa- 

 per bags filled with sand alone the edges of the flat- 

 roofed houses. In the sand they plant candles. 

 When the hour for lighting up arrives the effect 

 is bizarre and charming. The band thumps on the 

 plaza, rockets whiz heavenward in honor of the 

 patron saint; the scene, with all its adjuncts, is com- 

 plete. When the morrow arrives, with perhaps a 

 winter wind at its heels, reaction sets in. The paper 

 bags tip over and spill their contents down the necks 

 of unwary passersby. Naturally the bags do not 



