Over this they wore a calico skirt; always white stockings and black slippers.

When they ventured out, the younger women put on muslin gowns, and carried parasols.

The older women wore a linen towel thrown over their heads, or, in cool weather, the black riboso.

I often cried: "Oh! if I could only dress as the Mexicans do! Their necks and arms do look so cool and clean." I have always been sorry I did not adopt their fashion of house apparel.
Instead of that, I yielded to the prejudices of my conservative partner, and sweltered during the day in high-necked and long-sleeved white dresses, kept up the table in American fashion, ate American food in so far as we could get it, and all at the expense of strength; for our soldier cooks, who were loaned us by Captain Ernest from his company at Fort Yuma, were constantly being changed, and I was often left with the Indian and the indolent Patrocina.

At those times, how I wished I had no silver, no table linen, no china, and could revert to the primitive customs of my neighbors! There was no market, but occasionally a Mexican killed a steer, and we bought enough for one meal; but having no ice, and no place away from the terrific heat, the meat was hung out under the ramada with a piece of netting over it, until the first heat had passed out of it, and then it was cooked.
The Mexican, after selling what meat he could, cut the rest into thin strips and hung it up on ropes to dry in the sun.