It was the accident of my bringing the news of poor Le Faure’s sad end to Susa, which introduced me to my fellow-traveller Dr. Pozzi. Our conversation naturally enough first turned on Susa. “Here,” said Dr. Pozzi, “everything began with a sanitary blunder. The troops, instead of being distributed in different convenient places, were huddled together in the Kasbah, just as if the Arabs were going to assault the town. As we were at peace with the Bey of Tunis, no building could be taken for an hospital except an old grain store under the city walls, surrounded by the stagnant overflow of the neighbouring oil mills, and incapable of being ventilated. At most it could only contain fifty beds. The soldiers soon conceived a horror of this noisome den: they gave it the sobriquet of the _dépôtoire_, and concealed their sickness to avoid going to it. The crowding of 1200 men in the Kasbah soon _engendered_ typhoid fever; the _dépôtoire_ perpetuated it. Beds, dressers, &c., were wanting, but in a short time there were eighty sick soldiers in the grain store, and the cooking and medicine compounding had to go on in the midst of them. Later this was remedied, but the evil was already done.” Twelve deaths had taken place in a fortnight. From Susa Dr. Pozzi went on to speak of the question generally. In his opinion the excessive mortality amongst the French soldiers in Tunis has several distinct and palpable causes, viz., defect of transport, want of preparation owing to M. Saint- Hilaire’s first fiction of a military promenade, inability to obtain hospital accommodation on account of M. Saint-Hilaire’s second fiction of a Tunisian alliance, obstinate refusal to accept any Red Cross aid, and the almost total absence of villages and isolated houses for the use of the ambulance in the interior. “The large number of deaths at the Manouba hospital,” observed Dr. Pozzi, “are to be accounted for by its being selected as one of the principal places for the receipt of the sick from the interior, and by the means used to transport them thither. Many died _en route_ from the effects of travelling under a burning sun in an uncovered springless Maltese cart. It often happened that the patients were tied together to prevent them falling out, and a doctor told me that he had on one occasion _cut a living soldier from a companion who had been dead several hours_.” Dr. Pozzi considers Bizerta as an instance of the places in which typhoid fever was engendered by defective provisions, crowding, overfatigue, and too great weight of baggage. He thinks that the sanitary administration of the campaign falls into three epochs—April to August, inexcusably bad; September to November, improving; from November, good. Jerba, Gabes, and Fernána are, according to him, the scenes of the most fatal mistakes. As regards the first two localities, Dr. Pozzi’s information exactly confirms the details given by MM. Lereboullet and Le Faure. “Fernána,” he says, “was