backwards and forwards to Barrackpore, trying to carry it off well out of sentiment, but wishing I would say nothing more about it. The fact was, I tried to read one of my journals, and there never was so fatal an experiment; it was enough to put the most excitable subject to sleep. Perhaps I may begin again in the course of time, but I believe a shorter one kept for my own information would be quite enough.
But what makes me write to-day in this immense bustle, is the receipt of your letter of the 4th of April, per ‘Mary Ann Webb,’ or some name of that sort, and these bring us up to the date of the overland letters: so now whatever we receive will be all new, and, what is odd, I am sorry for it. Those overland short letters tell us you are all well, and then the details that come in the intermediate letters are not at all spoiled. Dates are of no consequence at that distance. We have tried the experiment now, and know it, and the feeling of security with which we open these letters is delightful. The next arrival will be trepidating, because though we know you were all quite well on the 4th, we cannot guess what may have happened on the 5th of April; and
