May 13, 1914.
[MY DEAREST ONE:]
Do not blame me for this long delay in writing.
God
knows I wanted every day to "talk" to you. But we were on the
"suspect" list, and to make even a note was risky. The way I
did it was to exclaim over the beauty of some flower or tree,
and then ask the Mexican nearest me to write the name of it
himself in my notebook. Then I would say, "In
English that would be — — " and I would pretend to write beside it
the English equivalent, but really would write the word that was
the key to what I wished to remember. So,
you see, a letter at that rate of progress was impossible. It
was a case of "Can't get away to cable you today; police won't
let me!" However, we are all safe at home again. As a matter
of fact, I had a most exciting time, and am dying to tell you
the "inside" story. But the one I sent the papers must serve.
I promised myself I would give the
first soldier, marine
and
sailor I met on returning a cigar, and the first sailor was
the
chaplain of the fleet, Father Reany. But he took the
cigar and gave me his blessing. I am now burning candles to
St. Rita. What worried me the
most was how worried
you
would be; and I begged Palmer not to send the story of our
first arrest. But other people told of it, and he had to
forward it. You certainly made the wires
burn! and had
the
army guessing. One officer said to me, "I'm awfully sorry to
see you back. If you'd only have stayed in jail another day
your wife would have had us all on our way to Mexico." And
the censor said, "My God! I'm glad you're safe! Your wife has
made our lives hell!" And quite right, too, bless you!
None of us knows anything, but it looks to me that
nothing
will induce Wilson to go to war. But the Mexicans think we
are at war, and act accordingly. They may bring on a
conflict. That is why I am making ready in case we advance
and that is why I cabled today for the rest of my kit. I have
a fine little pony, and a little messenger boy who speaks
Spanish, to look after the horse, and me.
And now, as to your letters, they came to-day, five
of
them, count 'em, and the pictures did make me laugh. I
showed those of the soldier commandeering the vegetables to
Funston and he laughed. And, I did love the flowers you sent
no matter how homesick
they made me! (Oh). I do not want a camera. I have one, and
those fancy cameras I don't understand.
The letters you forwarded were wonderfully well selected.
I mean, those from other people. One of them was from Senator
Root telling me Bryan is going to reward our three heroic
officers who jumped into the ocean. I know you will be glad.
There are no mosquitoes! Haven't met up with but three
and
they are not coming back.
I send you a picture of my room from the outside. From
the inside the view is so "pretty." Across the square is the
cathedral and the trees are filled with birds that sing all
night, and statues, and pretty globes. The band plays every
night and when it plays "Hello, Winter Time," I cry for
you.
I paid the band-master $20 to play it, and it is worth it.
I sit on the balcony and think of you and know just what you
are doing, for there is only an hour and a half difference.
That is, when with you it is ten o'clock with me it is
eight-thirty. So when you and Louise are at dinner you can
know I am just coming in from my horseback ride to bathe and
"nap." And when at eight-thirty you are playing the Victor, I
am drinking a cocktail to you, and shooing away the Colonels
and Admirals who interfere with my ceremony of drinking to my
dear wife.
