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chewed-up-hat, begrinned face, corroded hands and a cheerful smile. I wish my boy George would pan out that way. What a difference with some of the young conceited idiots I knew when I graduated!

Everybody here connected with any works seems strenuous. Good school for young fickle men.  but I suppose the latter run away to some easier place. 

Tonight went to hear a violinist at the Theater.
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