The roads here, with the history of Spain cut into them, and Indian life flowing ceaselessly over them from sea to sea, from north to south, are inexpressibly appealing. They are like a string, holding the beads of Mexican life together, and what "a rosary of the road" the glories and sorrows of their history would make! I don't feel the literary call, however. My life is run in another mold. But I have undergone a violent and probably permanent impression of this race, this country--its past, its present, its uncertain future, and oh, its beauty! _October 3d._ You can't tell an election from a revolution here. It's all lively to a degree. I have now seen both. Madero has been duly elected, and the streets rang all night to _vivas_ for him. Groups were passing continually up and down the Paseo, spilling into Calle Humboldt. Many students were among them and Latin-American youth seemed at its noisiest. There were some decided expressions of other political opinions, voiced largely in the now accustomed sound of _Pino-no-no-no_, but the Madero tide will doubtless wash him into the vice-presidency. It's quite irresistible. Madame de la B. was among my callers to-day, smiling and handsomely gowned in a new French dress. Of course, she gave no hint of what she thinks about the situation. She and her husband go abroad after Madero's inauguration, now set for November 20th. The President is finally to take the thanks of the Mexican government to the King of Italy for the special mission sent to represent him at the _Centenario_ of 1910--which seems as remote as the landing of Cortés. There is no provision for heating in any of the houses here. They tell me that in December and January, if a _norte_ is blowing at Vera Cruz, one is almost congealed in Mexico City. Even now the late afternoons and evenings are cold, but there is a glorious warm sun every day till the afternoon rains begin, and all the Indians in the city, come out from _quién sabe_ where, are warming and drying themselves on curb and bench and against sunny walls all over town. I suppose it is the only moment of comfort they have. Often now, instead of rain, there is the most gorgeous banking of heavy, dark clouds, with hints of orange, red, and purple linings. _October 5th._ Just returned from Madame de la B.'s reception. She does the "first lady in the land" very well. The President came in later, to the sound of the national anthem. He is of infinite tact in these strange days. He was clad, as usual, in an immaculate gray frock-coat, and showed no trace of the Procrustean bed he sleeps in. All his Cabinet were there and the _Corps Diplomatique_, and several well-set-up competent brothers, who, doubtless, will get some sort of foreign post. After all, I am rather a believer in nepotism, not too exaggerated. But if one does not do for one's own, who will?