Our last day in Mexico City, we ended up our riding school lessons (which we have had nearly every day since we’ve been here) by starting out across country at 10 o’clock A.M. I never enjoyed anything so much. We went through Chapultepec Park then out across the fields and galloped. Jumping a ditch Dick came off, but he was not a bit frightened and with good presence of mind clung to the reins and landed on his feet. Had he fallen, he might have been kicked by the horses scrambling up the bank. I was very pleased with him. Most of the rest of the day was spent packing, writing little notes of thanks and farewell and dropping them. At five o’clock, Dick and I drove to Chapultepec Castle in the face of a blinding rain and thunder storm, which followed after a dust storm. And oh! it was cold. When we got to the Castle it was very difficult to make anyone understand that I wasn’t a tourist, and that I had an appointment to see the President. One of them argued with me that what was the use, the President couldn’t speak English, and I couldn’t speak Spanish. I wrote my name on a piece of paper and gestured to him to “take it”--which he finally did, without further protest. We were then asked to follow upstairs, and were shown into the reception room that is entered from the roof garden. We waited and waited, and meanwhile Dick, who had heard about the President having lost an arm plied me with questions about war. Was war a thing that we had always with us, and would he go to it when he grew up? I found it extremely difficult to tell.