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7th letter
Paris. Sunday 28, 1884.

My Darling Emmie

When I wrote last I said I should join the school the next day and then would tell you all about it; well I have done so. 

We went down Monday and started in. Well in the first place I will give you some idea of the place; there are two large rooms, say 45 long by 25 wide one leading out of the other with the model stand in the center of each. The walls are perfectly filthy, all covered with palette scrapings and caractures [[caricatures]] and in fact all kinds of filth. Monday morning the models come and take various poses and the fellows vote on them and finally succeed in getting one that suits the majority. That is in one room say; then they all serge into the other room and go through the same process. Then each fellow stands near the place he likes best and when his name is called he scratches it down with a peace of chalk on the floor; then he scurries around and gets his paper and charcoal a goes to work. 

It is rather exciting the first time I assure you. The majority of them jabbering in French and howling and getting at the model; some are singing at the top of their voices, others smoking bad tobacco and others yelling at you to get out of their way. I was terribly nervous and hardly knew how to make a line; but I finally got something on the paper. The next day I was a little more at