MY DEAREST ROBERT, There is no particular good news to send you this time, though nothing much the reverse from India; but I think if the Opposition did not take advantage of C. Elliot’s first absurd peace, they may turn the Ministry out on finding it is no peace at all, and that, moreover, he has not left himself the means of carrying on a war. There never was such a man, if he were not a positive fool. I really think he would go mad when he looks back on all he has done this year. The last act of giving up Chusan, without waiting to see if the Emperor would ratify the treaty, is the crown to all his absurdity. We have not a foot of land left of their territory, and they actually ordered the last soldier out of Chusan before they would give up their few prisoners. Everybody wonders what will be the next news. Probably, that he will prevent Sir Gordon Bremer from taking Canton, for fear it should hurt the feelings of the Chinese, and the Emperor will probably send down orders that our sailors are to wear long tails and broad hats, wink their eyes, and fan themselves, and C. Elliot will try to teach them. I don’t think my national pride ever was so much hurt. Everybody is curious to know what the orders from home are. I have a horrible fright that if the Whigs are still in, they will send out full powers to George to take the business in hand. That _might_ interfere with our going home, which would be much more distressing than any national offence, and also it would be very inconvenient to him just now. The Punjâb remains so unsettled that all the spare troops are obliged to be kept on that frontier; and then Major Todd[506] has brought Herat into a mess, and though I think that is nearer to you than to us, it makes great difficulties in this direction. Then Singh and his army cannot get on at all. Runjeet’s death has been so like the death of Alexander, and of half those great conquerors in ancient history that we used to read about, and believe in. His army was a very fine thing, and his kingdom a good kingdom while he was there to keep his one eye upon them, but the instant he died it all fell into confusion, and his soldiers have now murdered all their French (I began on a half sheet by mistake) and English officers, and are marauding wildly all over the country. It is not actually any business of ours, but it interrupts our communications with Afghanistan; and, in short, it is obvious that it might at last furnish one of those pretences for interference England delights in, and when once we begin I know (don’t you?) what becomes of the country we assist--swallowed up whole.