Nuddea Gaon, Thursday, Jan. 23, 1840.

That missing Falmouth packet still hangs on my mind, and I cannot digest its loss after three days, which must be very unwholesome. We are poking along the narrow roads and ravines of Bundelcund, always afraid every night that the carriage will not be available, and finding every morning, that the Rajah of the day (we live in a course of Rajahs) has widened the old road, or cut a new one, and picked the stones off the hills and thrown them into the holes; and so, somehow, we come along. We have our old friend, Mr. F., who marched with us two years ago, in camp with his Jhansi Rajah, who has met us and been durbared and visited; and a Captain R. with his Rajah in prospect; and Colonel E. still here, because we every now and then step over a mile of Gwalior territory; and Colonel H. also, an old friend, and a sad spectacle of what two more years in India have done. This morning we came in on elephants because the Duttyah Rajah met G. We arrived, all over dust, but still, as I was telling G., the meeting between Dutty and Dusty was tolerably good. Duttyah's is rather a pretty story. He was picked up ‘a naked, new-born child’ under a tree at this place by the Governor-General's agent, who was taking his morning's ride, and who carried the child to the Palace.