Monday, December 25, 1865 — The daily dispatch
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Block 559
py are made of," I said, complacently, as I
wrote the address, "George Rutland, Esq.,
Rutland Hall, Kent."
It Was about seven on a frosty evening when
I arrived'at the imposing entrance of Rutland
Hall. No Cousin George came rushing out to
meet me. "Of course not," I thought; "I
am unused to their formal manners in this
country. He is lying in wait for me on the
mat inside.'' I was admitted by a solemn per