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 letter from "home," for by this endearing term nearly every one still spoke of England. Matthew Watson had, among the first, received his well-sealed letter, which he carried exposed to the gaze of the by-standers, with a conscious air, until he reached his house.

"What is it?" asked his wife, as he entered the room where she was sitting, facing the cheerful fire upon the hearth.

"A letter."

"From friends in Philadelphia?"

"From England." And then adjusting his full-moon glasses, scanning every seal, scratch, and pen-mark upon the outside, proceeded slowly to open and read the letter. It was a long communication, and before he had finished reading he laid it down, and, removing his spectacles, said, "Ruth."

"Ruth has gone to Neighbor Pearson's, dear; what is it?"

"I wish she would remain more with her own people and not visit Neighbor Pearson so frequently. She has been left an estate."

"Left an estate! Why, Matthew, what does thee mean?" asked his wife, rising from