There are various ways of getting one's debts paid in various countries. Shere Singh is out of favour with the Maharajah; but the other day Runjeet put a pea on the point of a spear, and told all the sirdars to shoot at it from a considerable distance. Shere Singh hit it at the first shot, and Runjeet gave him six villages; and it is always by some feat of that kind that they wring a gratuity from the old man. Shere brought one evening a beautiful pair of shawls, such as are only made for the females of the Singh family, and gave them to F. and me, begging that we would really keep them and wear them, and nothing was to be given in exchange for them. I am sure we had fairly earned them by having him at dinner almost every day for a month; but, however, we handsomely added them to the public stock, and as soon as a committee of shawl merchants has sat on them, we are to buy them. The melancholy catastrophe of the week has been the death of F.'s lemur, after two days of illness. It caught cold, like the rest of the camp, in that swamp at Lahore, and died of inflammation in the stomach, so violent that no medicine was of the slightest use. Poor little wretch! it was hardly possible to bear its screams at times; though as F. could not stand it, I did my auntly duties to it to the last. It is really a great loss, it was such a clever little animal, and she made such a constant occupation of it, that she misses it much, and is in a very low state. I own I miss it too, and then its illness has been so shocking. It had such cramps, and held out its little black hands (which are shaped exactly like ours) to be rubbed, and cried just like a child. That is the worst of a nice pet. However, they are a great amusement for the time they last, and there is, on an average, at least a year's pleasure for a week's grief. A natural death, too, is an uncommon termination to the life of a pet, and Dr. D. did everything that could be done for it. Moothea, Jan. 9. We left the Sutlej on Monday, and are halting to-day. Our dear friend Mr. C., of Umballa, laid out such a long march for us yesterday, that all the cattle are knocked up. We rode about twice the distance we intended to have done, which was no joke. Luckily he had his doubts about the villany of the proceeding, and had provided provisions for two days, so that we were able to stop a day. This is a shocking country for robberies. It belongs to nobody in particular, and the inhabitants avowedly live by plunder. Last night they took two pittarrahs belonging to one of the clerks, and beat the sepoy who was guarding them dreadfully. They also robbed and beat a camel suwar who was bringing us letters from Ferozepore. Thursday, Jan. 10.