Simla, Friday, Sept. 27, 1839.

It appears that our last letters will again be too late for the steamer. G. always keeps the express till it is a day too late for the steamer. In fact, if he has a fault (I don't think he has, but if he has), it is a slight disposition to trifle with the English letters, just on the same principle as he always used to arrive half an hour too late for dinner at Longleat and Bowood. He never will allow for the chance of being too late, and now, for two months running, his despatches have been left at Bombay.

We had our fancy fair on Wednesday, which went off with great éclât, and was really a very amusing day, and moreover produced 6,500 rupees, which, for a very small society, is an immense sum. When we arrived at the ‘Auckland Gate,’ which was the same as last year, we were stopped by a gang of gipsies, who had their little tent and their donkey, and the pot boiling on three sticks, and a boy plucking a fowl and another with a hare, &c. X. and L. and a Captain C. were disguised as gipsies, and the most villanous-looking set possible; and they told our fortunes, and then came on to the fair and sang an excellent song about poor old Colonel — and a little hill fort that he has been taking; but after the siege was over, he found no enemy in it, otherwise it was a gallant action.