ot, until after three nights with
no band, I wrote him a letter. It was signed by fake names, asking if
he couldn't get nineteen German musicians into a bandstand how could he
hope to get ten thousand soldiers into Mexico City. So now we have a
band each night. That is all my day. After dinner I sit at table and
the men bring up chairs, or else I go to some other table. There are
some damn fool women here who are a nuisance, and they now have dancing
in the hotel adjoining, but I don't know them, except to bow, and I
approve of the tango parties because it keeps them away from the
sidewalk. They ire "refugees," the sort of folks you meet at Ocean
Grove, or rather DON'T meet! All love to you, and give Patrigh a pat
from his Uncle Richard for looking after you and looking for me, and
remember me to Louise and Shu and everything at home. I love you so.

RICHARD.

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.

VERA CRUZ--June 4, 1914.

DEAR OLD MAN:

I am awfully sorry for your sake, you could not get away. Of course
for myself I am glad that I am to see you and Dai. At least, I hope I
am. God alone knows when we will get out of here. I am sick of it.
Next time I go to war both armies must fight for two months before I
will believe they mean it, and BEFORE I WILL BUDGE.

It is true I am getting good mo