him, and thought his doctor very fidgetty about him.
Sir H. Fane is much better. People here get into danger and out of danger in such a rapid manner, that it keeps one constantly on the alert.
(Finished August 9, 1836.)
My dearest i ster,—There are no ships going, from the ridiculous reason that none have come in, but I go on writing all the same. The overland despatch, which came in last week, has been a shocking blow to us—knocked us down flat. It had every merit that an overland mail should have; it came in less than two months from London to Calcutta—the first time such a thing has ever happened. It brought accounts that our arrival here was known the 3rd of June; it brought merchants’ answers to letters that were written only four months ago, but not a single line from any human being to us. ‘Ça casse bras et jambe,’ as Potier used to say; and from the stray
