_Her journey to Mexico City is by stage coach; “not far from this spot is the beginning of a railroad, which, say the Americans, may perhaps be finished in 500 years. It is intended to be carried on to Mexico.” No doubt it would have taken 500 years, but that an English company “butted in” and so I have been privileged less than 100 years later to travel to Mexico on that railway. It can only be said, in comparison, that her discomforts were more prolonged._ _Arrived in Mexico, we have a similar experience when visiting Chapultepec Castle: “The commandant came forward and very courteously asked if we would like to see the views from the flat roof of the castle.... What a Paradise world we saw..., etc.” and we have both seen the same thing, and thought the same thing, only in different words. Lady Emmeline has a more fragrant style. She makes an effort, on occasions, to describe scenes that surpass mere words: “But it is not, after all, so much the scene itself, as the great and boundless story the imagination ever lends it; for the soul once awakened, and stirred and thrilled by the sight of that magnificent scenery, makes it ten thousand fold more glorious....” There is much more of this._ _On her way to Puebla she describes how “we soon came in sight of the wonderful and huge pyramid of Cholula, built by the Aztecs; it is supposed as a Teocali. A temple to Quetzalcoatl formerly stood on it, but now it is crowned by a Christian Chapel dedicated to the Madonna.... With regard to this extraordinary pyramid, I think the people who could be bold enough to become mountain-builders within sight of those stupendous volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Iztaccíhuatl and so many other mighty mountains, deserve much praise for their almost sublime audacity....”_ _These were exactly my sentiments and I must thank Lady Emmeline for having spared me the writing of my own introduction. I curtsey to her very charming ghost and my great regret is that our paths divide. I cannot follow her to Peru, whither she goes from Mexico; and she cannot accompany me to Los Angeles, nor shake with me the hand of Charlie Chaplin._ MY AMERICAN DIARY FEBRUARY 2, 1921. _The Biltmore, New York._ What a funny life! I do not know myself, nor what I have become, and yet when I look in the glass I am the same. I seem to be a machine--I have no soul; rapidly I am losing all mind. From morning till night newspaper reporters ask me questions, I am told I have to submit--if I were impatient or cross they would write something nasty. So I am amiable! I go on talking the same stuff about Lenin and Trotzky! How they would laugh if they could hear me! I’ve been photographed in this room, over and over; by flashlight, by electric light, by day-light. In day dress, in evening dress, in Russian head dress, in work dress, with child, with roses, and so on!