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 Saturday, 24th.

We dragged one of the tanks yesterday, because the fish are all dying for want of water, and the native servants begged hard for some fish; all their food is so dear. It is always a pretty sight. There were at least 200 of them crowding round, and Mars and Giles and Webb (the coachman) trying, by the help of chokeydars (the Government House policemen), to keep some order in the distribution. The fish are enormous; many of them weighed more than twenty pounds. Major Byrne and I went and surveyed the stores, and the beds, and the tables for our tents. It is an awful job to undertake, I should think, for those that have the trouble of it. Jones and Wright are just to go in our palanquins when we are on the elephants, and to change when we want to change. Major Byrne thinks it much the best plan. Giles and Mars will have ponies, and, as we only travel ten miles a day, it cannot hurt them. St. Cloud is so important to our happiness, that we shall all join to carry him on a queen’s cushion if he insists on it, and he has a palanquin.

We have had two such storms to-day and