E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lister.
SIMLA,
June 29, 1839.
MY DEAREST THERESA, To-day an old sea letter of yours (January 23) has come to hand, containing all that I wanted to know, so as there is an odd opportunity of writing (a Chinese clipper going from Calcutta to Aden, and the letters to find their own way from thence—such a post office arrangement!) I take advantage of it....
This letter is six months old, but still very acceptable, and it shows that I still have some right original English feelings,—that I have been brought up in good Knightsbridge principles.
That old Lord Clarendon[477] was a brute; I always thought so. But what can be the use of carrying on a farce of that sort to the end? He cannot pop his head up even for a minute to say, “How I have tricked you!”—supposing he was proud of it. My only hope is that Lady Clarendon, who will find it difficult amongst her own nieces to hit upon a worthy heir, will do what Lord Clarendon ought to have done. This must go forthwith. Ever, dearest Theresa, your most affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to her Brother, Robert Eden [Vicar of Battersea].
PINJORE,
November 2, 1839.
MY DEAREST ROBERT, Here we are again fairly in the plains, and to be sure the plains are not the hills—an axiom the profound wisdom of which you cannot appreciate, unless you had been yesterday luncheoning with us at the Fir Tree Bungalow, with the snow in sight, the cool air rushing about, and everything as it ought to be in October, the cones tumbling off the fir trees, and the fern red and autumnal, and then you should have been snapped up by your Jhanpannies and run away with down-hill, till in two hours you found yourself at Barr, the thermometer at 90 in the tents, a man pulling the punkah for a little artificial air, and nothing but dust and camels to be seen for miles round.