Vera Cruz, January 8th
I am writing this hasty line in Mr. Lind’s dim room at the Consulate, to let you know that we slipped quietly down those wondrous slopes last night without hindrance.
I am decked out in a white skirt, purple hat and veil, and purple jersey. We have struck the tail end of the norther and the temperature is delightful. The moving-picture man, who followed us down last night, is now trying to persuade Mr. Lind and N. to let him “get them” in conversation, but Mr. Lind refuses on the plea that he is not in politics. I asked him how about his noble Lincoln head, and he answered, “Nothing doing; that unrepeatable head is long in its grave.”... The admiral is announced.