She was, as always, courteous and friendly, but a puzzled look was on her face, and I felt that there were questions that she would have liked to put to me, that the circumstances forbade. We spoke of the work she is just now especially interested in, for the amelioration of the Mexican woman's lot--the organizing of the lace and embroidery industry, _à la_ Queen Elena, in Italy, several years ago. There is a really lovely product here, the drawn linen work--_deshilados_, it is called--introduced by the Spaniards and practised through generations in cloisters and religious schools. She told me that in Puerto Rico one hundred thousand women had been organized, and she wanted to do the same here, asking me if I could not interest people in New York in the industry. I felt how frail her body, but how determined her will as we embraced in the dazzling morning. About us was the perfume of the rare and lovely shrubs of the _patio_, the splash of the fountain, the singing of birds, the lustrous hills, the shining volcanoes; that crystal air enfolded us, closer than human touch, but beneath us was the restless city and the shifting will of the Mexican people. On board the _Mexico_ in Vera Cruz Harbor. _October 10th._ We got down last night over the International; so many friendly faces at the station--_une belle gare_--reminding me of the unforgetable going away from Copenhagen. The Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the _Chef du Protocole_, nearly all the colleagues, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, Aunt Laura, and many American friends were there. The train departed at last without the slightest warning, but, the hour being at hand, we were standing near the steps, and as it quite slyly began to move out I was pushed into it by friendly hands with my load of flowers. Various other passengers had only time to scramble into the baggage and rear cars; and so, without any sound except those of friendly adieux, we slipped out of the station into the starlit valley, toward the hills that hold the splendors of this Indian world. I had a feeling as of some one who leaves treasure behind, and the thought that my eyes will probably never again rest on the beauty of Mexico gives me a clutching at the heart. "_Heureux ceux qui n'ont pas vu la fumée de la fête de l'étranger et qui ne se sont assis qu'aux festins de leurs pères._" It is seventeen months since we landed, but changing governments have not changed Mexico. On arriving, at 7.30, we repaired to the Arcades of the Hotel Diligencias of somewhat branded reputation, in one of the little rickety cabs. If its back flap is loose, you have a lovely breeze. If not, you feel as if you were in a "hot country" _not_ of earth.