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Saturday, August 1, 1908
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There was nothing on the books until evening, when Schmidtt and I went over to Slipps for grub and a rubber. Slipp cert'n'y does play a shine game of Bridge. Lord knows I'm bad enough myself, but I'm the Boy Wonder compared to Paul of Philla. 

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Sunday, August 2, 1908
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Mail today, but none from the One and Only. These damned Continental post clerks get my goat. 

Cremaschi Sahib came over this morning, and after about two hours tinkering in the cook shop brought out something from Sunny It. Roast beef in the middle, with a barricade of mangled spaghetti and sauce thrown around it. It wasn't bad stuff at all, Cremmy.