I mean to write to next—that I solemnly vow; but as the ‘Duke of Bedford’ sails to-morrow, and I had this letter on the stocks, I thought I might as well send it off, instead of a fresh one to her.
I have a suspicion of having been dawdling lately in the writing line; in fact, I feel confident that I have not written more than one letter the last fortnight.
We have been attending the races, which necessitates getting up before six every other morning; and they run races very slowly in India—dawdle three-quarters of an hour between each race—so we never get home till past nine, so nearly glared blind that writing was too white a pursuit for the rest of the day. But the races were rather amusing and very good of their kind. George’s cup was run for on Wednesday, and we had all set our hearts on Captain winning it, partly because Mrs. was so anxious for it, and then they are the only racing people we know well, but it was
