"The echinocactus, or bisnaga, is also called 'The Well of the Desert,'" says Dr. Joseph A. Munk in some interesting sketches of Arizona.[4] "It has a large barrel-shaped body, which is covered with long spikes that are curved like fishhooks. It is full of sap that is sometimes used to quench thirst. By cutting off the top and scooping out a hollow, the cup-shaped hole soon fills with a sap that is not exactly nectar, but can be drunk in an emergency. Men who have been in danger of perishing from thirst on the desert have sometimes been saved by this unique method of well-digging."
Of the palo verde Dr. Munk notes that it is "a true child of the desert," and he adds:
"No matter how hot and dry the weather, the palo verde is always green and flourishing. At a distance it resembles a weeping willow tree stripped of its leaves. Its numerous long, slender, drooping branches gracefully crisscross and interlace in an intricate figure of filigree work. It has no commercial value, but if it could be successfully transplanted and transported it would make a desirable addition to greenhouse collections in the higher latitudes.
"The romantic mistletoe, that is world-renowned for its magic influence in love affairs, grows to perfection in Southern Arizona. There are several varieties of this parasitic plant that are very unlike in appearance. Each kind partakes more or less of the characteristics of the tree upon which it grows, but all have the glossy leaf and waxen berry."
The grasses of Arizona, are, in some places, very beautiful, of a rich velvety green; and the infinite varieties of wild clover, the gramma, the buffalo, the sacatone, and other grasses, are richly nutritive and offer good facilities for grazing. As a wool-producing country Arizona has no rival, the climate giving the best of protection to sheep with the minimum of care, and the grazing offering adequate means of support; and stock raising of all kinds, indeed, is destined to become a great industry in Southern Arizona.
The climate of Arizona can only be alluded to in the plural, as in the expressive phrase of one of Mr. George W. Cable's creole characters, "dose climates," for Arizona has all the climates of the known world. The range of choice almost exceeds the range of the Fahrenheit registration. From the mountain summit, covered with snow for at least ten months out of the year, to the heat in Yuma, which has scored up to one hundred and twenty-eight degrees or more, there are all varieties and every conceivable quality of atmosphere. In the main, however, the climate of Arizona is inexpressibly delightful.
Dr. Munk, who is one of the distinguished physicians in Los Angeles, has made a study of Arizona as a health resort, and of its conditions he says:
"The atmosphere of Arizona is not only dry, but also very electrical; so much so, indeed, that at times it becomes almost painful. Whenever the experiment is tried, sparks can be produced by friction or the handling of metal, hair, or wool. It affects animals as well as man, and literally causes 'the hair to stand on end.' The writer has on various occasions seen a string of horses standing close together at a watering-trough, drinking, so full of electricity that their manes and tails were spread out and floated in the air, and the long hairs drawn by magnetic attraction from one animal to the other all down the line in a spontaneous effort to complete a circuit. There are times when the free electricity in the air is so abundant that every object becomes charged with the fluid, and it cannot escape fast enough or find 'a way out' by any adequate conductor. The effect of such an excess of electricity is decidedly unpleasant on the nerves, and causes annoying irritability and nervousness.
"The hot sun sometimes blisters the skin and burns the complexion to a rich nut-brown color, but the air always feels soft and balmy, and usually blows only in gentle zephyrs. The air has a pungent fragrance which is peculiar to the desert, that is the mingled product of a variety of resinous plants. The weather is uniformly pleasant, and the elements are rarely violently disturbed.
"In the older settled sections of our country, whenever there is any sudden or extreme change of either heat or cold, wet or dry, it is always followed by an increase of sickness and death. The aged and invalid, who are sensitive and weak, suffer most, as they feel every change in the weather. There is, perhaps, no place on earth that can boast of a perfect climate, but the country that can show the fewest and mildest extremes approaches nearest to the ideal. The Southwest is exceptionally favored in its climatic conditions."
There is a legend that the poetic, musical name, Arizona, was derived from "Ari," a maiden queen who once ruled the destinies of the Primas, and "Zon," a valley, from the romantic configuration of the state, the two combining into the melodious "Arizona." The tradition is sufficiently romantic to be in keeping with the country it designates, and nothing tends more to simplify the too complex processes of life, not to say history, than to apply the rule of believing those things that appeal to one's sense of the "eternal fitness" and rejecting those which do not. The apostles of the simple life might well include this contribution toward simplicity as an axiom of their faith. At all events, as no other origin of Arizona's pretty name is on record, one may indulge himself in accepting this one with a clear conscience.
The authentic Spanish history of Arizona dates to the exploration of Mendoza in 1540. For nearly three hundred years—until the treaty of Guadaloupe-Hidalgo in 1866, when all the region north of the Gila and Mesilla valleys was incorporated into the area of the United States—the Spanish explorers and the Indian natives were in perpetual conflict, and it was as late as 1863 that Arizona received its name and individual domain as separate from New Mexico, with which it had been incorporated. At the time of the Guadaloupe-Hidalgo treaty Arizona did not contain a single white settlement in the north and west. Near Tucson and Tuba were a few hundred whites, but all the other portions were the domain of the Apaches and the Moquis. In 1856 the Hon. James Gadsden, then United States Minister to Mexico, negotiated for the purchase of this territory at a price of ten million dollars, and the Mexican colors in Tucson were replaced by the Stars and Stripes. On December 1, 1854, a memorial was presented to the legislature of New Mexico for a separate territorial organization and name of the new acquirement.
Although the Spanish civilization has long since receded into the dim historic past, its spirit is impressed in the very air; its zeal and fervor still, in some mysterious way, permeate the atmosphere.