The steamer to Benares will be the most tiresome part of our journey, there is so little to see on the banks; but once in camp I mean to commence an interminable course of sketching. I hope my sister Mary will show you some of the sketches I sent home about two months ago. I think they would amuse you.
Our great anxiety now is for the arrival of the Seringapatam, a new ship, quite untried, AI—a mark the papers put here to a ship that is making its first voyage, but what it means I can’t guess. Still, to this untried article is confided the trousseau of myself, of Fanny, and two other interesting females belonging to the camp who will, if the Seringapatam does not come very soon, be starved to death in camp, reduced as we are to white muslins and chilly constitutions. The Coromandel I am also anxious for, as I have a nephew on board; but still you know I have 48 nephews, and only one box of gowns, so if there is to be a little adverse weather, etc.
We are going to give a dinner on Monday to the party that will go with us in the steamer, and to rehearse our hardships. The punkahs are to be stopped, as the heat on the river is always stifling; cockroaches to be turned out in profusion on the floor; extra mosquitoes hired for the night; the lamps to be set swinging; the Colvins[449] and Torrens’[450] children to be set crying; Mrs. MacNaghten,[451] on whom we depend for our tracasseries, to repeat all that any of the company have ever said of the others; Mrs. Hawkins, who is very pretty, to show Hawkins how well she can flirt with all the aides-de-camp. Altogether I think it will be amusing.
There! I have no time for more. This ought to bring me two answers at least. I am more ravenous than ever for letters. We are all well, more or less. Yours very truly and heartily,
E. EDEN.
Miss Eden to Mrs. Lister.
GOVERNMENT HOUSE,
October 2, 1837.
MY DEAREST THERESA, A sort of a nominal, no—cousin of yours, Mr. Talbot, is going home in the Reliance, and it gives me a good opportunity of sending you a Bird of Paradise feather, as he can put it into his portmanteau, and it will be no trouble to you, nor to him, nor to anybody. Of course I shot it myself, and found the nest, and am bringing up the young Paradises by hand, and they promise to have handsome tails which I will send you in due course—that is the sort of thing I mean to assert at home.
In little more than a fortnight we shall be off on our great journey to the Himalayas. Everything we have in the shape of comfort is gone—servants, horses, band, guards, and everything embarked a month before us, as we shall go by steamer to Benares, and though that is slow work, it is necessary to give the country boats a considerable advance. The Ganges, you see, is not an easy river to navigate.
Sixty-five elephants and 150 camels will carry our little daily personal comforts, assisted by 400 coolies, and bullock-carts innumerable. They say that everybody contrives in the mêlée to receive their own camel-trunks and pittarhs safe every night; but I own I bid a long farewell to every treasured gown and bonnet that I see Wright bury in the depths of a camel-trunk.