to the bedside of a
dying man,--one of the great names of the city. The family was
grouped about the father and among the weeping daughters he espied
his mysterious patient! Afterward, when he was leaving, she looked
him squarely in the eye and said, "You are a newcomer in
Guadalajara? You must be, for _I have never seen you before_!" He
told no one but the sister at the _Hospicio_ and not even to her did
he divulge the name, but two days later, in a lonely suburb of the
city, he was shot and killed.

Sarah, doesn't that make your scalp creep? Dolores Tristeza! "Sorrows
and Sadness!" I dashed out and bought her a gorgeous doll and she
gave me a gracious smile but she was not at all overcome. She clearly
feels her quality. Loads of people have wanted to adopt her but she
would never go with them.

And to-morrow we are off to Queretaro to drop a silent tear on
Maximilian's dressy little tomb, the Budders, Lupe, the C.E. and I.
We are gathering as we roll!

_Adios, querida mia!_

J.

_Queretaro._

I've paid proper tribute to that poor pawn of Empire who lived so
poorly and who died so well, but the real zest of this journey is
Lupe! Fresh every hour! Her mental processes are delicious. I was
lamenting her frank delight in bull-fights and she said, "Oh, the
firs' time I see horse keel,' I am ver' seek. _Now_ they keel four,
seven, eleven horse,' I like ver' moach!" When I tried to make
her realize the enormity of her taste, she turned on me like a
flash--"But you American girl, you go see you' brawther get keel' in
football game!"

"Pussy willow," I said, "it's not a parallel case. Our brothers are
free agents,--they adore doing it. They're toiling and sweating and
praying for the chance--perhaps for years,--and they're heroes, and
thousands are making the welkin ring with their names!"

She shrugged. "Oh--_eef_ you care more for some ol' horse than you'
_brawther_----"

The C.E. (although he could dispense with her society very
cheerfully) helps me to understand her, and through her, Mexico,
this sad, bad, pitiful, charming, lovable, hateful land!

Lupe's Emilio is by way of being a poet, it seems, and he has sent
her a little song, which we have translated, and I put it into rhyme,
and the C.E.--who has a very decorative voice indeed--hums it to a