We rode to Mr. B.'s yesterday, knowing that otherwise that bunch of grapes would be slurred over, and not even mentioned to us. I began by saying, we thought it beautiful, and just the present for a great potentate, upon which B. said: 'Yes, it is almost too expensive, but I was thinking of asking his lordship to let me present it to Shah Soojah.' Luckily, that was too much even for G., and he said: 'No, if I allow it to be bought at all, it could only be for a Governor-General to give away; besides, we are going to give Shah Soojah a kingdom, which is quite enough without any presents.' 'A defeat,' I thought, and Mr. B. looked as if emerald grapes were remarkably sour, and on our ride home G. said he meant to take them for Runjeet Singh. Tuesday, Oct. 30. G. took a fancy on Saturday to go, after dinner, to play at whist with Sir G. R., so we all jonpauned off, and very cold it is at night in those conveyances. The cold brought a bilious attack I had been brewing, to a crisis, and I had one of the worst headaches I ever had in my life, on Sunday, and could not sit up for a moment. It is the first day's ailment I have had since the week we came to Simla, and very lucky that it came before we go into camp. This day week we start. 'No ind to my sufferens!' as some novel says. Thursday, Nov. 1. There! now I am quite well again, and in travelling condition; and perhaps, setting off in such good health, marching may not be so fatiguing as it was last year. We have had nothing but take-leave visits the last three days. Mrs. R. sets off to-morrow with her own children and those two little orphaned G.s, whom she is taking to England. The wives to be left here are becoming disconsolate and fractious. Dear J. left us for good this morning. I do not think he cared much for _us_; but all the old servants, of whom he has had the care for eleven years, went with all their eastern, devoted-looking ways, and took leave of him and quite overset his nerves, and he went off in a shocking state. After taking leave of F. he quite broke down in G.'s room, and could not come to mine; and my jemadar came in with large tears running down: 'Major Sahib so unhappy. He say he not able to speak to ladyship--he cry very much!' I asked if they were all sorry he was going. 'Yes, very. He very old gentleman at Government House, and know everything, and very just.' And then, to wind it up with a fine piece of language, 'he _adapt_ properly well to all lordship's poor servants.' What that means I have not a guess, but I think it sounds comfortable; and I see now that the fault of India is that nobody 'adapts properly well' to my English feelings. Sunday, Nov. 4.