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Thursday, July 30, 1908
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Belle sent me a bid for grub tonight, but I thought I'd better pass it up. This little interior disturbance has got my goat. Things might happen, and if they do I want to be alone. Some other night. 

There's nothing the matter with this summer, boys You 'uns told me I'd be dead by this time. Just you fellers come over to New York and we'll show you some sure-enough weather. We fry eggs on the pavement there. 

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Friday, July 31, 1908
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This month I gain the proud distinction of being the top man at Bridge. Nine whole bloomin' dibs! What d'ye think of that? Its better than going down nine anyway, you agree. 

By gum, it seems as though I have to write out that damned cash account every week!