VERA CRUZ, May 28, 1914.
I want to be home to see the daisy field with you. That
knee you nearly busted tobogganing when the daisy field was an
iceberg is now recovered.
The one and all came this morning and as I expected it
was all full of love from you. I did get happiness out of
the thought you put in it. And all done in an hour. The
underclothes made me weep. I could get none here. Not
because Mexicans are not as large as I am, but because no
Mexican of any size would wear 'em. So I've had to wash the
few that the washer-woman didn't destroy myself. And when I
saw the lot you sent! It was like a white sale! Also the
quinine which I tasted just for luck, and the soap in the
little violet wrapper made me quite homesick. Especially was
I glad to get socks and pongee suits, and shirts. I really
was getting desperate. God knows what I would have done
without them.
I want to see you so much, and I want to see you in the
same setting of other days, I want to walk with you in the
daisy field, and in the laurel blossoms, and clip roses. But
to be with you I'd be willing to walk on broken glass. Not
you, too. Just me.
RICHARD.
