manner, as the latter part of the march was a terrible teaser.  We marched off from this place about twelve.  Although we had found the morning pleasant enough, with a fine bracing breeze, yet in the afternoon, about half an hour after starting, the wind went down, and the sun shone out terribly; the sand in some parts was half knee deep, and although there was no breeze to blow it in our faces, yet it rose from the trampling of so many feet in successive dense columns, and completely enveloped the whole brigade, almost blinding the men, so that they could hardly see the man before them, and getting into their noses and mouths so as nearly to suffocate them; however, they bore it manfully, and marched straight through it like Britons.  Our encampment that night was at a place called Golam Shah, on the Buggaur, one of the branch streams of the Indus.  We found that the second brigade had only left it the same morning, having been obliged to halt there the preceding day; and General Willshire found a letter from Sir John Keane, advising a halt there for the following day, which we accordingly did, and a precious comfortable day we had.  I got off my pony at the close of this day’s march with a dreadful headache, and had to wait for an hour till Halket’s tent and kit, with whom I am doubling up, arrived.  His servants brought me the delightful intelligence that my camel man had bolted with his camels at our last encampment, and that my things were all left there on the ground, with my servant, and that it was quite uncertain when they would be up; in fact, it seemed exceedingly doubtful whether they would arrive at all.  However, they did come in at last, but very late, on three ponies, two bullocks, and one donkey, which were the only things my boy could get, and for which I had to pay considerably.  I turned in as soon as I could; and the next day, which was a most wretched one, I was very unwell.  This place, Golam Shah, must, I think, be one of the most wretched places in the whole world, situated as it is in the heart of a desert, with only one recommendation,—­viz., the river Buggaur, the water of which is excessively sweet and wholesome.  The day we passed at it was the coldest I remember since leaving England.  A strong northerly wind blew the whole day, and the clouds of dust and sand that rose in consequence were so thick as perfectly to obscure the sun, and all we could do we could not keep ourselves warm.  Here we had the misfortune also to lose the only man that has as yet fallen on the march, an old soldier.  He was taken with cholera at eight in the morning and died at twelve at night:  he was buried about six hours afterwards, just as the regiment marched.  The hospital men had no time to stretch him, and he was laid in the earth in the same posture in which he died, with his arms stuck a kimbo, pressing upon his stomach, which shews that he must have suffered intense agony.  Poor fellow! they had not time to dig his grave very deep, and I am afraid the jackals will be the only benefiters by his death.  We left this place the next morning, the 30th, and arrived here (Tatta) about eleven o’clock, a twelve-mile march.  A great number of the 2nd brigade rode out to meet us, and the 4th Light Dragoons very kindly asked us to breakfast immediately on our arrival.  You may be sure they had not to ask us twice!