fall wounded or ill and who always and everywhere—in the Crimea, in Italy, in Mexico, in Tunis—are in an enormous and revolting proportion, sometimes ten times as great as necessity warrants, and always superior to that of other European soldiers. The English, in recognition of the services rendered by the sanitary corps in the Ashantee Expedition, have called it the doctors’ war. I will not pronounce the name ours deserves. Another fact that has passed under my eyes was this—a fortnight ago 70 of our patients were ordered to be conveyed to the province of Constantine by a packet, the hour of departure of which was fixed. They were taken in carriages to Goletta to embark. Not a sign was there of the boat, which arrived the next day. Only the commissariat and the stewards could neglect so simple a precaution as to wait till the boat was announced before ordering the patients to be conveyed from the hospital. If such is the hospital at Carthage, 36 hours’ voyage from Marseilles, what must be the ambulances in the interior? The bulletins of the commissariat report that the hospital at Carthage is provided with everything, and is the most admirably conducted hospital in Tunis. To this follows a postscript in which the writer reverts to the subject of the infection of the hospital at Carthage. The poison does not come from without, but is fabricated in the tents themselves, which are constantly full. The Kheir-ed-Din Palace holds scarcely 100 patients, and is already too full. There is no interval between the departure of the convalescent and the entry of the new patient, who takes his place after a change of sheets in the still warm bed. The result is that the place after four months’ use has become a perfect sink of infection. Diphtheria has become settled in it, and the only remedy is an immediate removal by steamers of all the patients not suffering from that disease, and able to be transported to France or Algeria. The letter concludes as follows:— Last night a terrible tempest destroyed four large tents. You can imagine the scene, the broken poles falling on the beds, the canvas rent, the rain pouring upon the unhappy patients, and the bugle summoning the attendants to carry the poor fellows into the unfinished sheds.