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[[preprinted]] November THURSDAY, 20 1902.[[/preprinted]]

Such foolish beds I never hope to see, a sheet which you get on top of and a feather mattress three sizes smaller than the bed, that you get under. Naturally you stick out all around and ice is forming in the water pitcher all the while. Give me German civilization in the [["Vurter Drine" ?]] yrs.
  No body in the gallery speaks and [[thinks ?]] but hot pudding & its only open once a week Sundays from 11 to 1. So I had to find some one with authority to let me in. Say I'm a great German scholar. Sure ting.
  The Rembrandts are the limit Saskia, The old man with the pen and long beard, the big one Abraham blessing the children, Rembrandts father, the one of himself and the warrior in Armor and the Landscape to is a howling swell one. If I can get two or three times its all I ask. then Berlin. Every body speaks good German here. "How horrible"
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[[preprinted]] November FRIDAY, 21 1902.[[/preprinted]]

  Morning & afternoon in the gallery they are fine, fine me boy and no doubt about
  Took a walk around town grubbed and wrote home & D. Sherwood, Daboe & Co.