The difficulties of writing since we left Lât have been greater than ever, and the manual operation of inditing an epistle is a most serious business. Of course there is nothing resembling a chair or a table,—not even a box. The only way to write is lying upon the ground, and putting one’s paper upon one’s pillow. Now my pillow is not a comfortable one for sleeping upon, much less for writing. It is composed of a revolver, a box of cartridges, a telescope, a bag of dollars, a packet of candles, a powder-flask, a bag of bullets, a comb, a pair of stockings, and a flannel-shirt,—in fact, all my worldly belongings. A most useful kit, no doubt, but uncomfortable as a pillow, inconvenient as a writing-table. However, one gets accustomed to anything; and if this campaign lasts another month or two, we shall not improbably have learnt to dispense with much more important articles than tables and chairs; for we have only the clothes we stand in, and these are already giving unmistakable signs of approaching dissolution. ‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐ Dalanta, April 5th. We are now getting to names which are somewhat familiar to us. The river Djedda, which the troops crossed yesterday, and the plain of Dalanta, where we are encamped to-day, were both mentioned frequently in the letters from the captives. The river Djedda was the place where Theodore was detained so long making a practicable road for his guns, and where he was represented as encouraging his men at their task by working with his own hands. Dalanta was the province or tract which was spoken of as in rebellion against him for a considerable time previously, but which submitted as soon as he had crossed the Djedda.