, the bases of which were
stuck in the ground. El Obeid was close by, the great arched gate of the
Mudirieh towered above the other houses of the town, and over it floated
the red Egyptian flag, which was hoisted every Friday. Some of the
Dervishes used to conceal themselves in the deserted houses of the town
and fire at the fort, while others pulled down the roofs and walls and
dragged away the beams to the camp, and there cut them up for firewood.
Our church, which was covered with galvanised iron plates, was
completely destroyed; even the mosque was not spared. There was a busy
scene day and night at the Oshra well; here thousands of male and female
slaves drew water, and frequent quarrels and fights took place.

All this change of scene made a deep impression on me; the strain of the
last few days, the tiring journey from Delen to El Obeid, the continual
uncertainty as to our fate, anguish, fear, din, tumult, bad food, had
already considerably affected our health, and now that we were at rest,
and that the Arabs had ceased to molest us, the re-action came, and we
fell a prey to disease. The infected atmosphere of El Buka--as the
Mahdi's camp is always called--brought on a burning fever and constant
diarrhoea. Besides all this, when confined with the robbers in
Abdullah's house, we had become covered with horrible vermin; it was
impossible to get rid of them--they seemed to increase daily. We had no
clothes to change, and as we had scarcely enough water to drink, washing
was out of the question. With a feeling of utter despair we lay helpless
and comfortless on the floor of that miserable black hut. Our maladies
became worse, and ere a month had passed, three of our number were dead.
Sister Eulalia Pesavento, of Verona, died of fever on the 28th of
October; carpenter Gabriel Mariani died of dysentery on the 31st of the
same month, and sister Amelia Andreis died on the 7th of November, while
we four who still remained, hovering between life and death, lay
helplessly side by side with our dead brothers and sisters. It was a
terrible exertion to us to sew the corpses in mats and drag them to the
door of the hut. At length some slaves--much against their will, and on
the promise of good pay--removed the already decaying bodies, and buried
them in shallow pits, which they covered up with sand. No one lent a
hand to bury these "Christian dogs," as we were called. It was a
terrible grief to us not to accompany our poor compa