about it, and I was going through this year quite merrily, thinking that every day was the last of its kind and could not be done over again, and all brought me nearer home and you; but now I do not know what to think, and feel as if I should like to go to bed for the rest of the time and not try to bear it longer. I do so want to see you. However, I will not write any more about it to-day; it perturbates me and makes my hair stand up the wrong way, and I suppose if it is really necessary that George should stay, it will be equally necessary to make the best of it; but I cannot see any best, or any good, or feel anything but utter horror of the whole business.
My jemadar has been laying out his savings and all the presents he has had in a little bit of land, which is a great event in a Mussulman’s life. It gives an income to the whole family, which, as they will not take interest, money never can; and George and I drove down some narrow lanes to see it, and certainly in the rains the lanes about Calcutta are very pretty, with the plantains, and cocoas, and wild creepers,
