there, intending to return and make a meal of it upon a more favourable opportunity. We have had nothing to excite us within these last few days but the death and burial of an old curate. He died in all the odour of sanctity three days ago, and was buried yesterday. He was not loved or even liked, for he wanted that greatest of all gifts--charity. His situation was worth, with offerings, six thousand francs a year,--a large sum in this country: but he did not give to the poor; he exacted from them, and they religiously obeyed him, no one killing a pig or anything else without a present of part of it to the curate. When the old man was told that he could not live, the ruling passion still governed him. He sent for a person to dispose of for him the sundry pieces of pork which he had gathered as presents, then took the extreme unction, and died. His will is not known, but he is supposed to be very rich, and whether he leaves his wealth to some nephews, or to support a hospital here which is at present without funds, is a question of some interest. He was buried in great parade and procession, followed by hundreds holding candles. He was dressed in his best, and every one said that he never looked so clean or so well in his life. He was carried on an open _brancard_, with his canonical hat on his head, the snow fell fast and settled on his face and clothes, but he felt it not. The funeral was as cold as his charity, the thermometer being exactly 130 below the freezing point. Except the procession of the dead curate and of a dead wolf, we have had nothing to interest us for the last ten days. But I promised to talk about the Burmahs. There have been two or three accounts of the military movements, but there has been no inquiry or examination into the character of the people, which, in my opinion, is of more importance than is generally supposed; for although the East India Company may imagine that they have done with the Burmahs, it is my conviction that the Burmahs have not done with them, and even I may live to witness the truth of my assertion.