rticularly the other day, when I had the fever; and I
hope and trust my life maybe spared that I may see you all once more,
particularly as I have never seen you at Brookhill.

With regard to myself, my health, with the exception of the fever, has
been much better than I could have expected, considering what we have
gone through. I have, however, been sadly bothered the whole time I
have been in the country with rheumatism; at times, during the march, I
was so bad with it that I could not walk ten minutes at a time. I have
also had terrible pains in the joints of my arms, and have them still,
and it is with difficulty I can get a gun to my shoulder. I can walk
pretty well now, but running is totally out of the question; so that I
am afraid I should come off poorly in a hand-to-hand encounter with
these rascals. I applied to the doctor for some medicine, but he said
"he could give me none;" in fact, they will not give an officer any
medicine now unless he is very seriously ill, as they are very short of
medical stores.

I hope you may be able to get through this letter; the blue paper I have
been writing on is Russian, and bought in Candahar. I do not think I
have anything more to say. I will write again when I reach Cabool. Tell
Kate I will write to her too: I hope she got my letter which I wrote in
January last under cover to you.

With best love to all at home,

Believe me your very affectionate son,
T.W.E. HOLDSWORTH.

P.S.--By-the-bye, there is an officer here in H.M. 13th Light Infantry,
with the Bengal force, who knows Arthur very well, in fact, I think a
great deal better than I do myself. His name is Wood; he is a
Canterbury man, and seems to know Mr. Baylay and everybody else there.
He was in the 48th when Arthur was at Canterbury with the 4th Drag.
Guards. He desired to be kindly remembered to Arthur when I wrote. I
hope Eliza's hooping-cough is well. I was very sorry to hear of poor
Sluman's death: as far back as I can recollect he is always associated
in my mind with home. I hope Ghiljee, Kauker, Beloochee, and Co., will
let this pass.

LETTER VIII.

Camp, near Ghuzni, July 24th, 1839.

MY DEAR FATHER,--You must put down yesterday, the 23rd of July, in your
memorandum book as a memorable day for your son Tom, and, I may say, for
the British army. Ghuzni, the strongest fortress in Afghanistan, was
taken by assault in three-quarters of an hour, by the four European
regiments of the a