been once fixed, the natives will not take less, that is, in specie. They would take a shilling’s worth of rice for a goat; but of course we have no rice to give them. It may make but little difference to Colonel Merewether whether he pays seven shillings or two shillings for a goat; but the subalterns naturally grumble at having to pay three times the real value for their food. Not, indeed, that the officers here have to buy much, for their guns supplement their rations to a very considerable extent. Guinea-fowls, partridges, ducks, and geese abound, and a large number are daily shot by the sportsmen of the camp. The ration allowance of one pound of meat, including bone, a pound of biscuit, two ounces of preserved vegetables, and a quarter of a pound of rice, is quite insufficient for one’s wants in a bracing atmosphere like this. The meat issued contains an enormous proportion of bone, so that there is little if at all more than half a pound of clear meat in a ration. I am sure that I consume at least three times my daily allowance of meat. The natives completely swarm about our camp. The men do not do much, but loiter about with their swords and spears, and shields made of elephant-hide. These spears are really formidable weapons. They are from six to ten feet long, and weighted at both ends, and the natives are able to throw them with great force and considerable accuracy for a distance of over thirty yards. These would be ugly weapons in a hand-to-hand fight in a bush, but as it is, against a disciplined force armed with firearms, they are simply absurd, and I have seen no offensive weapons—such as bows or arrows—which could be used with effect against us during the passage of a defile, in their possession, since my arrival in the country. The women appear to do all the work. They come into the camp in hundreds laden with firewood, and keep up a perpetual cry of “Lockaree, lockaree!”—which is the Hindoostanee for wood, they having picked up that word,—and “Parnè!” water. Even the children bring their bundles of wood. The women are not nearly so pretty as some of them I saw down the pass, nor are they so neatly clad. They are dressed in cotton and leather; but neither are these so tastefully arranged, or so fancifully ornamented with shells, as were those I described in a previous letter. They are very thin, many of the children painfully so, which is surprising when one sees the abundance of their flocks and herds. The villages, too, are well built. The houses are low and flat-roofed. They are in many cases built of stone, and some of them have inner courts, with a sort of veranda formed of boughs to sit under. They have, like the Arab villages I saw at Alexandria, and which they strongly resemble, no windows; but as the native’s life is entirely passed in the open air, I suppose that matters but little. The natives seem to feel the cold much, and go shivering about in the early morning and evening in a pitiful way.