The faultfinding Americans who come here, and really love it, though they talk loudly about the national failings and sigh for "honest Americans," are under the spell of this intimacy with the natural world, though they don't often analyze it; this delicious, satisfying sensation of being included in the operations of destiny, not being hung solitarily between birth and death. I never look up at the Southern Cross without my heart, too, leaping up--and thinking, with Humboldt, of the lines he quotes from Dante, "_Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente all' altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle_."[49] The rainy season is full upon us, for which all are thankful. There has been a great deal of illness in the town, the dust-storms were unusually severe, and the collection of microbes carried hither and thither would break a microscope. The mornings seem made in heaven, and, after weeks of being dust-veiled, the volcanoes are out again in all their splendor. _Tuesday, 22d._ Many people calling to-day; among others charming Manuelito del Campo, just married to the handsome niece of Madame Escandon, of the Puente de Alvarado. They are making bridal visits. She wore a regardless beige gown, with Paris written all over it, and beautifully put on over a lovely, small-hipped figure. I wish them well. Mr. de S. stayed after all had gone. He is very sad at the disintegration of government, and in fact why should any Mexican be cheerful? The past is destroyed, the present tottering, and the future hidden. He is always most understanding and _simpático_. A short, terrific thunder-storm came on as we sat talking and afterward everything was drenched and dripping in the corridor and _patio_. As I stood at the door with him we were led to talk of destinies. I said that, for my part, I had no hunger, all glories and all miseries were known to me, and I was learning to feed upon myself. But he remained silent, stroked Elim's hair, called him _buen mozo_, and went out. As always, it is each one to his own path, and one is lucky to meet, even for a second of time, some one going the same way. To-day I closed forever the covers of Strindborg's hideous, haunting _Froken Julie_, that horrid conflict of souls in a kitchen. But once read, can I ever wipe it out of memory? _May 23d._ The ambassador says we will all go home on a war-ship if "the break," as the possible event is colloquially known, does come. Can't you see us all stowed away, according to the protocol, on one of the war-ships, and various dissatisfactions, however carefully things are arranged, as to rank and previous condition of servitude? _May 25th._ Orozco acknowledges defeat in the north, laying it at the doors of the United States. The neutrality laws prevented him from getting in the required arms and munitions.