George says that your letter costs you nothing, so I enclose an account of Runjeet’s Court, which young MacGregor wrote me. If you have had enough of him you can burn the letter unread, but I have a faint recollection that the only Indian subject that was interesting at home was “The Lion of the Punjâb.” It is a matter of great importance just now that he should be our faithful ally, so we make much of him, and I rather look to our interview with him next November. “If this meets encouragement,” as Swift says, I will give you an account of it. Whenever we want to frighten any of our neighbours into good conduct, we have one sure resource. We have always a large assortment of Pretenders, black Chevaliers de St. George, in store. They have had their eyes put out, or their children are in hostage, or the Usurper is their own brother, or they labour under sundry disadvantages of that sort. But still there they are, to the good. We have a Shah Shujá all ready to _lâcher_ at Dost Muhammed if he does not behave himself, and Runjeet is ready to join us in any enterprise of that sort. Still, all these _tendencies_ towards war are always rather nervous work. You should employ yourself more assiduously in plucking Russia by the skirts and not allow him to come poking his face towards our little possessions. Whenever there is any important public measure to be taken, I always think George must feel his responsibility--no Ministers, no Parliament, and his Council, such as it is, down at Calcutta. To be sure, as you were going to observe, _if_ he ever felt himself in any doubt, he _might_ feel that he has my superior sense and remarkable abilities to refer to, but as it is, he has a great deal to answer for by himself. I daresay he does it very well, for my notion is that in a multitude of counsellors there is folly--“wisdom” was a misprint. And then again, if the Directors happen to take anything amiss, they could hardly do less than recall us. I certainly do long to be at home, not but what I am thankful for Simla, and am as happy there as it is possible to be in India, but still there is nothing I would not give to be with friends and in good society again, with people who know my people, and can talk my talk. Here, society is not much trouble, nor much anything else. We give sundry dinners and occasional balls, and have hit upon one popular device. Our band plays twice a week on one of the hills here, and we send ices and refreshments to the listeners, and it makes a nice little réunion, with very little trouble. I am so glad to see Boz is off on another book. I do not take to _Oliver Twist_; it is too full of disasters. I must nearly have bored you to death, so good-bye. Please write again. Yours most truly, E. EDEN. _Miss Eden to Mr. C. Greville._ SIMLA, _November 1, 1838_.