carriage-loads of other servants, who have settled themselves and the little ponies that draw their carriages under a group of cocoa trees close by, where they are cooking and laughing and looking very comfortable. The Brigadier has got a bad sick headache, poor man; which is awkward the day of a review. It is awfully hot; the thermometer at 84° in this room; all shut up; and, what is very distressing, is that I have to dress twice, and he has remembered everything but a looking-glass—strange neglect!
I was going to tell you that in a box we packed up yesterday, and sent by the ‘Fergusson’ to Robert, there is an Indian shawl—a present from Fanny and me to ; so will you give it to her with our love. It is nice soft wear.
There is a new large looking-glass just come, so I must dress.
I am so tired, I have a great mind to cry; only if one cried every time one felt tired in India, no number of pocket-handkerchiefs would suffice; but my bones ache, and I think I never shall be cool again.
