Sunday, June 6th.—It had been agreed that we were all to get up at 5 in the morning to go to church; but we were tired by our long journey, and more than that, so worn out by early hours, which, to my mind, are the worst form of dissipation, that we lay in bed till 8 o'clock. I gave leave to Simon to go into the town to buy some things he required, but, he returned to say that he must get a pass before he would be allowed to go through the gate. Our first breakfast was at 10 o'clock—melons, mangoes, plums, lechees, and other fruit. Another more substantial in viands, but not more plentiful, came on later in the day Saunders is a father to us in the desolation of Delhi. [There was, in the original edition, a passage immediately after the last lines which seemed, in the eyes of the gentleman to whom it alluded, to bear an offensive character I never designed it to have. I thought that gentleman was a “nice little parson,” but he does not like to be described in that way. He does not desire that it should be supposed he was all solicitude about a pattern for his pulpit in the new church at Delhi. I admit I thought he was solicitous, and I regret that I offended him by the misrepresentation.