This place is full of Cashmerees, and they never come further south than Delhi, so this is our last shawl opportunity. Q. came into my room with a magnificent black one, a regular fifty-guinea shawl, and said the owner had told him to show it to me. I said it was very beautiful, but I could not afford any more expensive shawls, and he said if I really fancied it, he would try and beat the price down. I said no, but at the same time asked, in a fatal fit of curiosity, what the price was, and he said, 'Perhaps I can get it cheaper, but the man says you may have it for 240 rupees.' (24_l._) Upon which I said with infinite promptitude--'Oh, then, run for your life and pay him directly, before anybody else sees him!' and Q. thought it advisable himself, for he said some of the other Cashmerees were offering him more for it. The shawl has been compared with three bought by Mrs. R. and Mrs. A. for fifty guineas, and there is not a shade of difference; in fact, it is a perfect beauty, quite a catch. August 18. I am uncommonly unhappy in my mind. My dear little flying squirrel, that I had brought up to "man's estate" from three days old, died yesterday of cholera. I never mean to witness the death of a pet again. To be sure, Chance has lasted so many years that I have not had much practice, but I am quite wretched about this poor little animal. He was so coaxing, and though my doors and windows are never shut, and he had no cage, he never thought of stirring out of my rooms. When I came home, he used to stick his little head out from under the pillow and hold out his paw for my hand and bite it all over; and when I was dressing, he always sat on the glass, or on Wright's shoulder, with great black eyes like Pamela's fixed on my hair, which he helped to arrange occasionally. When G. came in the evening, he climbed up the arm-chair and sat on his shoulder, apparently whispering to him; and though G. said the squirrel was only pulling his ear, I am convinced he had more to do with public affairs than people generally supposed. I never saw such a good little thing or such a clean pet. He never ate anything but two or three spoonfuls of tea, but yesterday he got hold of a pear the servants were taking away from luncheon, and it killed him in a very few hours. My own belief is that as _people_ in India are uncommonly dull, the surplus share of sense is "served out" to the beasts, who are therefore uncommonly clever, and their talents are developed by their owners leading such solitary lives that they are able to devote more time to the education of their animals. CHAPTER XLII. Simla, Sunday, Sept 1, 1839.