Summary

Arthur J. Burdick The Mystic Mid-Region: The Deserts of the Southwest

Hovering over the desert, too, is that phantom, that desert apparition, the mirage, a never-ceasing wonder to the fortunate traveler who wants not for water and who is in no doubt as to his way across the dreary waste, and a never-ceasing torment and menace to the thirst-tortured wayfarer lost in the dread solitude. Imagine the mockery to the thirsty traveler of a rippling sheet of water, its blue waves rolling ever in view but receding as he advances, leaving only the burning sands to the perishing one! Is it any wonder that men go mad in the desert?
Source: Gutenberg

Arthur J. Burdick The Mystic Mid-Region: The Deserts of the Southwest

Basket-making has recently become a fad with white women, but the dusky woman need not fear the rivalry of her white sister. Civilization has too many claims upon her, and she has too little time and strength to devote to the work to permit of her spending weeks in searching mountain, valley, and plain for the material, and toiling months in the weaving, of a single basket. Even were she to do this, she could not weave into it the traditions of a race, the faith of a religion, the longings of a soul, and the poetry of a people.
Source: Gutenberg

Arthur J. Burdick The Mystic Mid-Region: The Deserts of the Southwest

These colors are mineral and chemical and are blended in rare harmony—laid by the Master Hand which carved this remarkable region out of the edge of the Western continent.
Green and blue of copper, ruddiness of niter, yellow of sulphur, red of hematite and cinnabar, white of salt and borax, blend with the black and gray of the barren rocks and the dark carmine and royal purple and pale green of the mineral-stained granites.
Heat and thirst are not wholly responsible for death in this valley, for some have frozen and some have drowned within its confines.
Source: Gutenberg

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