Pristina, Texas
October 22, 1911

Dear Father,

I write to you from the town of Pristina, located ten miles from the Rio Grande in Southwestern Texas. There are some four hundred refugees from the Mexican War camped in the hills nearby, and we expect their numbers to grow as Madero’s insurrectionists are proving themselves fierce and tireless, spurred on by understandable Wrath.

You would be interested by this town, how I wish you could come by and visit! At its center stands a mercury fountain. I have enclosed a picture postcard of it, but you cannot experience its strange and beguiling power unless you stand right in front of it, watching it move. As I understand it, the founder of the town, Mr. Scraperton, believes that mercury has mystical properties and that the mining of it is good for the Soul. He is a compelling man more driven than any I have known. He welcomed us to the town personally and gave us a tour of the Mercury Workings, then his wife joined us and showed us the kitchen she had set up for the refugees, a right impressive couple, she Mexican and he from Massachusetts. They are proponents of Racial Harmony and Unity and showed us a street where a Negro family and Whites and Mexicans all live side by side in neat little houses, with water troughs out front and shutters painted red and yellow. You can imagine the stony faces of the boys in my troop, all from Arkansas and none with a father like you! But they behaved themselves, nary a grumble about Carpet Baggers and nigger lovers until we got back to our encampment. I remained quiet, remembering your counsel, and not wanting to create an unnecessary rift, especially so soon upon my arrival. After supper the captain lectured us, saying that we are not defending the town, but the Nation, the Border, that these things must be held sacred, no matter the ideas of some of our citizens. The boys nodded along, as did I. I trust that they will fight manfully when the occasion arises, for they are at bottom good boys, at least that is how they seem to me.

Affectionately Yours,
Will