Its continuance is at last telling on the health of our men. They are beginning to look thin and weary. The roll of morning sick gradually increases. The Military Governor, Captain Pulford died on the 28th June. Every evening we hear volleys over new graves and the mournful strains of the last post. The regularity of these funerals is convincing testimony of how how foul is this climate. We are so confined; the area within the surrounding embankment is so cramped that there is little opportunity of any pleasing recreation.
We pin our faith to the Shimál that dry wind from the North which is reported to be so blessed a relief. We have begun to think it is a myth as we feel only the blast of burning air that blow over our camp.