My dear old Comrade, George Simmons—On the 13th of May I received yours of the 15th of March, and on the 15th of June, yours of the 13th April. You know me well, George, and therefore know nothing can make me a vain ass, but when I tell you I have received since the battle of Aliwal upwards of 150 letters of heartfelt gratification conveying to me theirs and your participation in every feeling of success which Almighty God has so guided me to, then, George, my heart expresses its fulness through the eyes by tears of gratitude and reciprocal affection. From every old friend—I have several still left to us—from every old comrade of the Light and 4th Division, have I received every expression of their approbation, their happiness in my having realised their often-expressed anticipations. Your old friend possesses the good sense which you so kindly give him credit for, keeps pace with his delight in all the congratulations of our friends. Then, George, comes the _encomium_ of THE DUKE. Dear old master! if I have done that which meets _your_ approbation, then is the cup of glory full indeed, for it is to your example I have desired to apply any share of the ability bestowed upon me. I have had too from him the kindest of messages, and to his old friend Juanita, as he still calls her. George, my fight of Aliwal was really beautiful, and now I cannot say I wish on that day I had done this or that, but what I give myself any credit for was on the 21st of January, when the enemy, with his army of 24,000 men and 50 guns, so ably, energetically, and secretly anticipated my move to effect a junction with the corps at Loodiana, and nothing but pluck, Light Division experience, and inflexible adherence to purpose, brought me to the desired field of Aliwal. I lost some of my baggage, but should not have done that if my orders had been obeyed, but _Finis coronat opus_. I have had a letter from Joe, who tells me your happiness was such that your nerves so thrilled through your desperate old wounds as to make you quite ill. Dear George, we little thought at Belem, when hopping about there, I should become a master of that art we were both "gurning" under, or a swimming master, with pupils in Sutledge! I certainly hurried the rogues over the river a little unceremoniously, and the credit you all give me is not thrown away, I do assure you. I am appointed to a Divisional command, and must leave these hills at rather a bad season of the year, viz. the rainy. Between the alternations of a fiery sun and torrents of rain, some 600 miles, Juana will go, through not staying here as I advised her. I begin to long to get once more to my native land. Mine has been an awful banishment. I do so long to seize by the hand all those old friends who have so adhered to me notwithstanding my absence, and who thus so kindly feel _my_ success and honour _their own_. If anything could make a man an ass _this_ ought.