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[preprinted]] Saturday, July 3, 1909 [[/preprinted]]

I'm a naughty boy, for I've been reading "Tess". I can't say as I can agree with the little statement that Hardy puts under his title, but I don't suppose he gives the littlest damn, do you? I'm sure I don't, myself.

I kept thinking, as I read it, that he was trying to outdo "Adam Bede". Now that work of George Eliott's is to my mind just about the most wonderful book that was ever written, and I resented his monkeyin' with it. Anyway, even if I am prejudiced, '[[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]] "Tess" wasn't near so good.

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[[preprinted]]Sunday, July 4, 1909[[/preprinted]]

The "gee-lorious Fourth" dawned upon us brite and fair. I had a "half dozen chairs", (as I understand and Jo Arnold puts it down) in readiness, but to my relief I got off lightly, not in a financial way I mean, but in the quantity I was obliged to take into my inside system.

The "Fourth", like most other holidays, is decidedly more cheerful at home than it is in these doggone parts.

Little spiel over at Jo's tonight. Jo, as usual, did the bolero clean down to the ground.