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Paris Nov. 1st. 67.

Dear Fanny, Saturday before last I got a letter from from an artist F de Berg Richards telling me I was more likely than any one else to know the whereabouts of Mr. Sartain & [[strikethrough]] that [[/strikethrough]] would I please inform Mr Sartain that he would leave London for Paris Saturday & would it be too much trouble to Mr Sartain to meet him at the depot so as to take him to some hotel he being a stranger & having with him his wife & two [[strikethrough]] children [[/strikethrough]] small children.  Mr Sartain was in England & so I went out to a depot & waited [[strikethrough]] but for [[/strikethrough]] for [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] a train but he had not written either the railroad or time so I came home & got a call from him next day.  He was nearly all day in reaching my place 5 squares off.  Sunday night I went to see him & found him & family cooped up in a mean English house where they were paying over 40 francs a night.  Next afternoon I had to spend finding him a hotel & restaurants & I dined with them that evening & after [[strikethrough]] wards went [[/strikethrough]] supper took Mr Richards out to buy him postage stamps & toys for the children. He is about a head taller than me & as helpless as a child.  He is a very good hearted sort of a man a most miserable painter & yet with such an exquisite taste that he sees faults in the color [[strikethrough]] of [[/strikethrough]] & drawings of the best pictures in the world, and he also once wrote a book. His wife is a foolish good natured large doll baby face woman & worships her husband & dotes on music of which she brought with her about 5 pecks & her name is Susie.  She said she would die if it was not for music & also the same if