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I started this letter last Wednesday. Since then, Mcferson has had an awfully hard time, altho' the doctor says one should not worry I never saw such a sick man. He looks half-dead, and so thin. I am heartily tired of the whole affair. And so is "Mc". He feels the inconvenience he is putting me to - and this second ill turn irritates him. The nurse fears each day he will become 'king house' - or delerious. I hope that Monday to be able to say that I am in my own studio again.
Why was it you have not told me where Homer and May were going [[strikethrough]] to [[/strikethrough]] honeymoon. 
I eat now in a restaurant among friends. The steaks are worthy of praise, and the imported rice puddings are a joy to all Americans. 
There is a new reading room near the restaurant run by a Rev. Van Winkle. There are many home papers, and literature there. I am a member. It is there that we play chess. We have just started a craze there for the game and a club. We played the other night with a Russian. An English Doctor and I were the only ones out of seven who defeated him.
Tell the old chess friends I am improving.
I play each day a little hand ball, and fence a bit.
Am working in the schools now, and following Sargents advice, which by the way Delecluse repeats every day to me, for he studies under Duran with Sargent. One in this school is in touch with the best instruction. Mother tells me of your billiards. 
We are getting up a musical society here
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