Every one here is interested for you, and asks for news of you. Where are you now? Doubtless much fatigued and _ennuyé_ wherever you are; yet you must be travelling through a fine country. If you want anything which it is possible to send you, have no scruples; I have given my clerks all necessary instructions, if by chance or any unforeseen circumstance--such as may easily occur on a journey--you find yourself in want of what they call here “ticals.” We are friends,--dispose freely of my purse; we will divide like brothers. Do not be offended at this offer, it comes from a heart devoted to you; therefore, have no false pride. Ask, and I will help you. The heat is dreadful just now, and every one is ill of dysentery. Au revoir, dear M. Mouhot. Take care of yourself, and do not be discouraged by the dreadful climate. That we may have, please God, many pleasant days together yet, is the earnest wish of your real friend, L. MALHERBE. LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THE FAMILY OF THE LATE M. MOUHOT. FROM DR. CAMPBELL TO MADAME MOUHOT. Bangkok, April 7th, 1862. MY DEAR MADAME MOUHOT, About three weeks ago I had the pleasure of forwarding a letter from your husband, and I mentioned the probability of a second one, written before the one sent, reaching me in time for this mail. This has been realized, and I enclose the letter referred to. News from Luang Prabang, up to the middle of November, have also reached Bangkok, and oh! my dear madam, what a sad duty devolves upon me in narrating certainties that have transpired since my last communication. Would that I had some relation in London to whom I could write and request him to call upon you, to divulge the painful truth that your husband--my valued friend--is, alas! now no more. It may perhaps in a measure tend to soothe your sorrow under this severe trial, to say that I never knew a person who was so universally esteemed as he was by the foreign community of this city; and that all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance deeply regret his sudden and premature loss. The last letter he wrote me was dated from Louang Prabang, on the 30th August; in it he was satisfied with his success, and altogether buoyant in spirits. He continued in the neighbourhood of the above-named city, which is the capital of north-east Laos, till the middle of October, when he returned to the city. On the 19th he has written in his journal, “Attacked with fever;” but his servant and the Laos official account of his illness make it the 18th. On the 29th he made an entry, but nothing subsequently, and departed this life on Sunday the 10th November, at 7 P.M., being twenty-eight days subsequent to the attack. His servants, after seeing him interred, commenced their journey hither, taking with them his baggage and everything he had collected. M. D’Istria, the present French Consul, has to officiate as administrator to the late M. Mouhot’s estate, but has assigned to me