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blaming, the whole made just as fresh and living an impression on me as though I had come independently and without prepossession, and I saw it once more established that whatever is perfect, even though it be in the sphere most distant from one’s own, still has the power of perfection. And so may you read this long letter with half the joy it has given me to recall my Holy Week in Rome!
Your faithful
Felix Mendlessohn Bartholdy.
