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The sickness in our farm-yard is great: forty-seven gram-*fed sheep and lambs have died of small-pox; much sickness is in the stable, but no horse has been lost in consequence.
25th.—Remarkably fine grapes are selling at one rupee the ser; i.e., one shilling per pound. The heat is intolerable; and the rains do not fall heavily, as they ought to do at this season. The people in the city say the drought is so unaccountable, so great, that some rich merchant, having large stores of grain of which to dispose, must have used magic to keep off the rains, that a famine may ensue, and make his fortune!
