We are so longing for more ships; our last sea letters were dated the 27th of April—five months ago. Last Sunday I got a letter by the Overland Packet from of the 1st of July, and another from the Duke of Devonshire of the same date, giving a great deal of amusing gossip; and as those were almost the only two private letters that came to Calcutta, they were perfectly invaluable.
I wonder, sister, you did not send yesterday to ask after me, only you are not attentive in that way. The butcher, or the grocer, or somebody must have mentioned in the morning the narrow escape we had coming down from Barrackpore. His lordship took a fancy to come down on Sunday night, which would always be more convenient, only I do not think it right; but our steamer is out of repair, so we have to be governed by the tide for the conveyance of all the servants, and the tide of the Hooghly is very imperious in its way. So the servants all embarked in the evening, and we all set off at nine with a moon rather brighter than an English sun, and clouds of fire-flies to match, and a slight pretence of fresh air or cool air. It is clearly the best hour for going out.
