A vessel from London has just come to port, bringing Rebecca's dresses
for the wedding, which will take place about the middle of June, as I
hear. Uncle Rawson has brought me a long letter from Aunt Grindall,
with one also from Oliver, pleasant and lively, like himself. No
special news from abroad that I hear of. My heart longs for Old England
more and more.
It is supposed that the freeholders have chosen Mr. Broadstreet for
their Governor. The vote, uncle says, is exceeding small, very few
people troubling themselves about it.
