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108 June 27th, 1890. Friday. I have done nothing much today but read Pickwick Papers. It is as calm as possible and the nearer we get to New York the warmer it becomes. Run 467 [[end page]] [[start page]] 109 June 28th, 1890. Saturday The last day is always a stupid one I think. There is nothing much to do, and although you know you have plenty of time you always feel in a hurry. I read a little, walked a little, packed a little, sat still a little, fooled a little and ate a little. So, the day passed. The run 484, let us know we would reach New York in the evening. We got off at the Quarantine, where the doctor comes on on a private tug, but the rest of the people stayed on and