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Letter from Paris

This is the text of the first page of a letter to my father's father (James Cross Reid) from his father (also James Cross Reid) from a hotel in Paris in 1922. The letter below reads as follows:

168 Hamilton St

168 Hamilton Street
Providence, R.I. USA

Dear Jimmie,
We have had two big days in and around Paris and went to the Palace of Bal-Maison, the Forest of St. Germain, and the Palace of Versailles. This letter is strictly confidential, not a word of it must be told to anyone. My pleasure has been greatly spoiled by Willie, he has had his head stuffed incredibly by some one, as to what he might expect of me. He is eternally contriving new ways of spending money, thinks he is a man and should get a man's dissapations as to wine and women. Ye Gods!

Think of it, a cub boy of 15, setting up for that. He angered me so bad in London, I threatened to beat the life out of him. That didn't scare him much. Then I swore I would tell Billie Blackburn, and ever since he has been begging me not to do it. I would not allow him to have wine, I made him drink Mineral Waters. In our party y'day were a father and son from Fall River. the son a man of around 25. When the courier took us to lunch These man and his son we had a table. The garcon wanted our order for drinks, I turned to him not wanting to show him up and said "Willie what will you have?" "I'll take what the rest take" he said, "Not by a damned sight you won't! " I told him, and ordered him Lemonade. When we got back to the Hotel I cursed him out and told him if he tried another slick trick like that on me I would beat him stiff. He came to me once in London puffing a cigarette, and had bought a long amber looking mouthpiece. If I send him to buy anything, the change is gone even if it amounts to $2 or $3.

William Reid
Agnes had to scold him good nearly everyday, he fretted and fumed if he wasn't on the go all the time. Since coming here, he continues to bring up something about the night life of "Gay-Paree" every day.

There is no getting him up in the morning, when he does, he takes an hour to fix up, steaming his face, brushing his hair etc. etc.
I swore last night after coming home from the Folies Bergere, a sort of Ziegfield Follies, that if he didn't get up of his own accord this morning I wouldn't wake him. I am writing this at 11:30 a.m. and he has not come down yet.

He has annoyed & worried me everyday since we landed, there are things I won't put on paper. Burn this letter, not a word to a living soul. When I once get the damned fool on American soil he will get the worst time of his life. I will tell him some mighty unpleasant things.

-Your loving father

William's Passport for the trip to Paris..

 the letter..