Yesterday evening, one of our people (a trusty fellow) rejoined our outposts.

He brought me a letter, which had arrived from France at Calcutta; at length, I have news of my father, and am no longer anxious on his account.

This letter is dated in August of last year.

I see by its contents, that several other letters, to which he alludes, have either been delayed or lost; for I had not received any for two years before, and was extremely uneasy about him.

But my excellent father is the same as ever! Age has not weakened him; his character is as energetic, his health as robust, as in times past--still a workman, still proud of his order, still faithful to his austere republican ideas, still hoping much.
"For he says to me, 'the time is at hand,' and he underlines those words.