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Sunday July 14 1901

My dear Parents -

How would you like to live in a country where on waking in the night you might hear an officer walking his rounds, under your window the monotonous thumps of his sword on the side walk reminding you of falling coins in the contribution box.

[[image]]

I feel after fencing each day in the garden of this very old house that I am not of the 19 century.  Everything [[strikethrough]] in [[/strikethrough]] groans with age.  The little narrow doorway is the entrance to my [[strikethrough]] be [[/strikethrough]] appartment.  It is just wide enough for me to enter.  I walk about fifty feet in this little tunnel and then come to a winding stair-case.  It is a rare bit of construction.  Mounting one flight of steps my room is reached.  Where I am at home, and before your photographs.  How I love to look at them.  Everyone says they are of handsome people.  Especially the father and mother.

[[image of man walking up winding staircase]]

Transcription Notes:
1st image of the house and tunnel entrance. 2nd image is of the staircase.