this place the next morning, the 30th, and arrived here (Tatta) about eleven o'clock, a twelve-mile march. A great number of the 2nd brigade rode out to meet us, and the 4th Light Dragoons very kindly asked us to breakfast immediately on our arrival. You may be sure they had not to ask us twice! Tatta is a very ancient town, said to have been built by either Alexander, on his march down the Indus, or by one of his generals; the ancient name was Patala. At that time the country was in possession of Hindoos, or, at least, of the followers of Brahma, who were most probably the original possessors of the greater portion of the east. Afterwards, on the rise of Mahomet, it was soon in possession of his followers, who seem to have held it for a long period, as they have left magnificent proofs of their grandeur, both in the city and all round the neighbourhood, which is studded with splendid cupolas, domes, temples, and tombs; there is one in particular in the town itself an old tomb, now used as a caravanserai, which is excessively handsome. When I talk of a tomb being turned into a caravanserai, you will of course understand that a tomb in this part of the world is very different from one in the western part of the globe. This tomb itself would cover as much ground as Exeter Cathedral. The inside of the domes are very beautifully enamelled in the chastest colours, and with most excellent taste, and would put to shame the most handsome drawing-room in London, I should think. I have never repented not being able to draw so much as I have since I have been in the East, but particularly since I have been at this place, where there is so much that would look well in a sketch; but I would not give twopence to be able to draw and not draw well, particularly when I see the daubs that some men, who fancy they are hands at it, produce, after fagging at the simplest thing possible, and I believe that if nature does not give you a turn for it, all the trying possible would never make a painter, and that what the old Roman proverb said of the poet, "Non fit sed nascitur poeta," is equally applicable to the painter. I tried it for a short time, at Hanover, but my master told me I was the most awkward and stupid pupil he ever had, and advised me to cut the concern, and I followed his advice; nor am I sorry that I did so, as I should never have been able to draw well, and should have only been discontented, and given it up in disgust. We have, however, two officers in our regiment who both draw and sketch exceedingly well; and I will try to get duplicates from them if possible, so that, if God spares my life, and I ever return home, I shall be able to shew you some specimens of the country we have passed through.