It is a closed chapter, but a very definite chapter, and I have learnt many things. I have learnt that nature, with her camouflage garb of beauty, is merciless, cruel, pitiless and hostile. The unpolluted virgin forest contains poison and disease. Civilization which I have always scorned is fighting Nature all the time. The wonder is that anyone survives Nature. Cruelty is primitive, not decadent, as I used to believe.
Nevertheless, long after I have forgotten the hurt of Nature, I will remember a thousand beautiful things that are indelible.
I have been happy—on the whole tremendously happy. A happiness that is pure and abstract and did not depend on a human being.
But if I lived in this country I should weary of the seasonless sameness. There are things that the blood of my race would cry aloud for.
I should miss:—
—The turn of the leaf in Autumn.
The frosty crispness of an early dawn.
Twilight.
My footprints in the dew.
Pheasants fluttering to roost.
Green beechbuds in the Spring.
Mist of bluebells in a leafless wood.
The robin’s song.
A wood fire crackling.
And the pleasant sight of children in clean white pinafores on their way to school.
September 15, 1921. Nuevo Laredo, Mexico.
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.