slightly, she says. George finds that turtle-soup and port-wine are great preservatives.
We have settled to go home to-morrow, as I shall then have had nine days’ of it, and my nights are so bad here I cannot sleep at all. We came up to Diamond Harbour this evening.
We have seen the last of our dear open carriage till we get to Benares. It is gone to be lined and painted, and is to embark, with many others of our goods and half the servants, in a fortnight; so George and I went in the great coach. As it is almost all glass, and all the glasses let down, it is, in fact, an open carriage, only it feels like the Lord Mayor's. Anything is better than the job-carriages here; they jingle and shake like taxed carts.
I should say we are all very well again, but we have got off our party to-morrow night in consideration of an immense ball for the King’s birthday, which we give on Monday with supper for 900 people (bless me!)—our last large
