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a bit tiresome.  There is a stout lady (Mrs. Best) here who plays about as gracefully as Harry Wiggins would.  We have 'music' together, and slaughter the dear old sole's, we so many times have enjoyed together, at those times and immediately after I am a bit homesick.
Sunday.
Went to Mr. Pritchards church.  It seems to be run mainly for, and by the [[strikethrough]] Britch [[/strikethrough]] Pritchards.
My quill - pen is broken. ---
Mr. Pritchard's sisters asked me to supper.  Had a fine time.  A niece has invited me to call this afternoon, and tomorrow evening I dine with Mr. Pritchard at the National Liberal Club.  From there we are going to hear Carpenter lecture on the Bible and its relation to modern days.  My health is good.  This living in a boarding place is much better than Hotel life, much nearer home life.  In two weeks I shall forward some sketches.

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before I have been unable to avail myself of such opportunities.  
Saturday it rained hard all day and I stayed in doors, painted on my river sketches and practicesd my violing.  The Indian friend has lent me a volume of Keats poems, Shakespeare's Mid-summer Nights Dream, and a work of Thackerays.
How are you, all?  What's Bess doing?  Tell Homer not to join too many clubs.  The fee's are a great load for a young man.  How is he?  How's Helen?  What do you hear from Robert? Is father sleeping o'nights. I wish you'd send me over the perscription of out family fever mixture.  I sometimes might need it.  I miss that black felt hat, and Sargents reproductions; your apple jelly, and shall on Thanksgiving Day long to be with you. We all have cause for being thankful this year.  At times I really do become a bit home sick.  People here are