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LETTERS FROM INDIA.
133

She certainly writes like an angel. I am so glad I have a whole volume more to read, and that ‘it will be too hot to do anything else’ whenever I like to read it. It is not really overpoweringly hot yet, and the evenings are very pleasant, and may last so to the end of the month, they say.

We had one of our largest dinners yesterday—at least fifty people, which is enough, as most of them are strangers.

Wednesday, 18th.

I have finished ‘Deerbrook,’ which is a pity. It certainly is a very original book.

We cannot succeed in dressing ourselves at all. —— wrote to two or three of the principal sale-rooms to desire they might be kept open for us from five to six, and he and Fanny, Captain Hill and I went out shopping when it got cool. It was rather amusing to see a shop again, particularly as these contain all sorts of things, like American stores; but as for making ourselves smart, the thing is impossible.

Friday, 20th.

We went last night to the play, which we had bespoken. No punkahs and a long low