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Yesterday Miss Gardner and I, (an awfully nice American girl, swell), from Salem went in the pouring rain to see the "washing the feet" also at St Eustache—   We got there two hours too soon, having mistaken the hour.  So went to another church, Notre Dame des Victoires, near by - pour passer le temps—  The churches when there is no service are impressive, and very beautiful  The obscurity below hiegthened [[heightened]] by the groups of tall thin candles in the little off chapels, the high blue distance over head the people kneeling about and gazing with real, if superstitious, adoration at the shrines - above all the 

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12 Rue Boccador—
Good Friday—

Dear Aunt Eliza—   You shall have a letter all to yourself and no mistake, and you must read it aloud to the rest of the family - with the proper expression—  I have your big 8 pages, written partly in my room, and all the newspapers, and accounts of the Blizzard - glad I missed it.    It is April here all the time now; big clouds, sunshine once in a while, and many showers, very pretty but inconvenient - no use in good clothes - I have just come home from such a treat— 

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