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 never saw anybody so done up. He has been up the country ever since we arrived. We hear he is very amusing; he always says something very odd in his sermons, particularly if he sees his hearers inattentive. Several people have told me that they heard him say in the cathedral, ‘You won’t come to church. Some of you say it is too hot; to be sure it is hot,’ and then he wiped his face; ‘I myself feel like a boiled cabbage, but here I am, preaching away.’ There was a sort of service here in this house when the W. Bentincks went away, and in praying against the perils of the deep he quite forgot he was praying and began describing his own sufferings. ‘When I ran up from Singapore to Ceylon I never felt anything like it; the ship rolled here and there; I was so giddy I was obliged to hold on by the table.’ I mean to go on Friday night to the cathedral to hear his first sermon—a funeral sermon on the late Bishop Corrie.

We have set up a second late drive after dinner since last week when there has been a moon. After eight there is not a human being to be seen on the plain, either native or European, and between nine and ten most of