Such an anti-climax--the Immigration people have refused us entrance to the U. S., because Dick had fever and sore eyes, which they say is “trachoma” described officially as “a dangerous, contagious disease.” It nearly broke my heart to see my San Antonio train steam away, and us left in Mexico. We so counted on getting to a good hotel and a good doctor at San Antonio. Goodness knows when we will get out of this country. The Doctor says it will take time. The Mexican Laredo Hotels are indescribable: no water, no food, no drains, floor covered with ants. We leave tonight for Monterey to await Dick’s recuperation. We are so dirty, so worn out, so poisoned, so sore and wretched, such a Job’s company. That is what camping in Mexico means. From this window, I see across the river the U. S. flag floating from dignified buildings. So near, so longed for. Heaven’s door closed. It is a blow. I feel lost, very homeless, very unloved, very unwanted. SEPTEMBER 17, 1921. _Monterey, Mexico._ Of course Dick has not got trachoma--the doctor who has lived in Mexico 20 years recognized it at once as the most ordinary Mexican eye disease prevalent among children. I shall probably get it too. Meanwhile here we are, recuperating. The Hotel has at least got baths and hot and cold water. One is so reduced in spirits, so humbled, so unspoiled, one hardly dreams of higher bliss than this! I had not even the energy to get into the Plaza and see the Centenary procession. Dick and I got up on to the deserted and neglected roof garden. There one views the jagged mountain ranges by which the town is surrounded. It is really rather beautiful, but my spirit is across the border, I am existing here under protest; sullen, bored, inactive. I have an affection for the United States. I want to get back there. Though they treat me like a steerage emigrant it makes no difference, and after all, what am I but an emigrant? A first class, specially reserved saloon, emigrant--but none the less a simple homeless emigrant, asking humbly for admittance. The American industrial magnates here have been ever so kind and helpful. The American Smelting and Refining Works especially have done more for me than I can ever repay. Their practical and volunteered help and great thoughtfulness cannot be described nor appreciated in mere words. I rather suspect the channel through which this help was contrived, although his name has not been mentioned to me.