harden not your hearts," and surely the "still small voice" is speaking,
and can be heard by those who will heed it, and have the heart to feel
and the soul to rejoice in the strength of their salvation. The memory
of the beautiful duett in "Haydn's Creation," when newly made Adam and
Eve unite in praising God and extolling his wonderful works comes
freshly before me. Now, something akin to this must have crossed the
mental vision of the grand old Maestro when he wrote; and its calm
glorious music well accords with my present state of mind.

JULY 21st.--A pleasant stroll of ten miles before breakfast to
Koomerial along the level valley, through shady groves of apple, pear,
green-gage, peach, and mulberry trees, and forests of cherry trees
drooping with the weight of their golden blushing fruit. I have not seen
any vines in the Solab. Koomerial is a very small place, and I had a
little difficulty in getting supplies. I ought to have gone three miles
further to a large village; but I'll go there to-morrow, and then return
to Alsoo in two marches. A native came to me with the toothache, begging
assistance, but the tooth required extracting and I could do nothing for
him. Pitched under a walnut tope--the climate delicious, like a warm
English summer, but it is rather hot in my small tent in the middle of
the day; so I have my Charpoy put outside in the shade and lie there
smoking my pipe and thinking. I have spoken of the beauties and
pleasures of the Solab, but I must not omit mention of its annoyances,
flies and mosquitoes, by day the flies abound and cause much irritation
to any exposed part of the body. I do hate tame flies, flies that though
driven away twenty times elude capture, and will pertinaciously return
to the same spot--say your nose--until one is driven nearly mad with
vexation. At dusk the flies return to roost, and then myriads of
mosquitoes emerge from their hiding places, and make night hideous with
their monotonous hum and blood-thirsty propensities. I do not find
chepatties so bad as I expected, indeed I rather like them, but then my
boy makes them excellently well, using soda in their composition. The
process of manufacture is not pleasant--the flour is made into a paste,
and then flattened and consolidated by being thrown backwards and
forwards from one hand to the other, though one may avoid seeing this,
it is difficult to escape hearing the pit-pat of the soft dough as it
passes rapidly between the