outside has its interest too, my dear,' said her father. 'I was
looking for the Lisbon postmark, but there is none whatever. It must
have come by private hand.'

He broke the seal, and found within an enclosure directed to Esther,
which he gave her. And Esther presently left the room. Her father, she
saw, was deep in the contents of his letter, and would not notice her
going, while if she stayed in the room she knew she would be called
upon to read her own letter or to show it before she was ready. She
wanted to enjoy the full first taste of it, slowly and thoroughly.
Meanwhile, the colonel never noticed her going. Pitt's letter was dated
'Lisbon, Christmas Day, 1813,' and ran as follows:--

'MY DEAR COLONEL,--I have landed at last, as you see, in this dirtiest
of all places I ever was in. I realize now why America is called the
New world; for everything here drives the consciousness upon me that
the world on this side is very old--so old, I should say, that it is
past cleansing. I do suppose it is not fair to compare it with
Seaforth, which is as bright in comparison as if it were an ocean shell
shining with pure lights; but I certainly hope things will mend when I
get to London.

'But I did not mean to talk to you about Lisbon, which I suppose you
know better than I do. My hope is to give you the pleasure of an early
piece of news. Probably the papers will already have given it to you,
but it is just possible that the chances of weather and ships may let
my letter get to you first, and in that case my pleasure will be gained.

'There is great news. Napoleon has been beaten, beaten! isn't that
great? He has lost a hundred thousand men, and is driven back over the
Rhine. Holland has joined the Allies, and the Prince of Orange; and
Lord Wellington has fought such a battle as history hardly tells of;
seven days' fighting; and the victory ranks with the greatest that ever
were gained.

'That is all I can tell you now, but it is so good you can afford to
wait for further details. It is now more difficult than ever to get
into France, and I don't know yet how I am going to make my way to
England; it is specially hard for Americans, and I must be reckoned an
American, you know. However, money will overcome all difficulties;
money and persistence. I have written to Esther something about my
voyage, which will, I hope, interest her. I will do myself the pleasure
of writing again when I get to London. Meanwhile, dear sir