from his tent—not the least tired. says Calcutta is hot, but looking lovely. I can fancy the bright green of Bengal will be very striking after these dusty brown plains, and, at all events, it is satisfactory that the march and George’s absence have interposed to make Calcutta palatable after dear Simla. Our next great packing will be to go home. Fine! but it gives me a decided pain in my stomach to think of it, for fear it should be put off.
God bless you, dearest sister!
.
I wonder none of you wrote about Miss Martineau’s ‘Deerbrook.’ Such a very interesting book. It is a long time since I have had a novel that I could not leave off, and I have been reading this ever since breakfast—quite at the wrong time of day, only there is always the comfort at Calcutta, if one does anything ever so wrong, of saying it is too hot to do anything else. ‘Deerbrook’ has swallowed me up alive. It would have been so exciting in foolish days.
