in great glee, for there was on Sunday evening a powerful thunder-storm—I never saw such inky blackness—and then a good pouring rain, the first that has fallen for five months; and that brings back the cool weather for another month, besides laying the dust for their journey, which is no small consideration. It cleared up in the morning, and they went off at seven in the carriage to Barrackpore, had an early dinner there, and at four started in their palanquins. They would overtake their tents at eight this morning, and that is the only fatigue they will have. After that they never go above ten miles a day. I sent three of my servants to Barrackpore with them, as their own are gone on, and my jemadar came back this morning and said they set off at four, and ‘the Choota lady Sahib’ (or ‘la petite miladi,’ as St. Cloud translates it) ‘send her love, and say she have all she want, and she look remarkable comfortable in her palkee;’ and he ended with clasping his hands, and ‘Now, please, may I have leave to go home and see my children; me up at Barrackpore all one whole day,’ which the servants look upon as the extreme of human misery. Nobody knows why; for now we go there regu-
