Tuesday, 14th.
I never saw such an improvement! Dear little creature, only to think it should have been delayed so long! Chance is now turned into a poodle. He has been groaning and puffing and was really weighed down by his curls, and nothing would stop their growth; his paws were not visible, and everybody said he would die. So Captain Anson carried him off this morning to the best hairdresser in Calcutta, Jimmund following in tears, because it was so unlucky to cut these long curls; and, after an elaborate toilet, Chance frisked in the image of a small black lion and as active as ever he was in his best days. The native servants are delighted now, because they take it as a compliment to the Company, whose great sprawling lion is carved and stamped everywhere. The only objection is that nobody can look at Chance without laughing, and that the bunch of curls that they have left at the end of his tail disturbs his balance, and he topples over and then tries to bite them off; but habit in these two particulars may do much, and in the meantime he is considerably cooler.
