From Thomas Charles Higginson   May 25th 1843.

Camp Kurrachee¹ | May 25th 1843.

My dearest Tyndall

You cannot imagine the delight with which I received yours² and more so when it appeared you had not received mine³ at the time you began. It showed that you at last determined to write to me but I think when you did receive mine and found the reason I did not write to you and that it was not for lack of love or friendship you might not have been so careful of a sheet of paper but have torn it up and not used the cutting expressions which are therein written. I suppose you wanted to show me the state of your mind before you received my letter, you need not have done so, as I knew by my own what your feelings were. I knew the mistake which you laboured under, such the expressions sound so much harsher in my ear than I am convinced you intended them for – such as – no I will not mention any of them, I know if even I did, they are so badly cherished in your breast towards your poor old bedfellow Harold⁴ you scarcely remember them. I know Wallace⁵ too well to think he would harbour a bad opinion of me. No more on the subject. I must finish this part with the promise of not again letting a month pass if possible without giving you an account of my adventures and protestations of eternal affection. Now I must begin and give you a short account of all that has befallen me since I started from England – my voyage out⁶ is almost erased from my memory, suffice to say it was very favourable but very unpleasant as we had on board a young lady, daughter of Col. McNiel,⁷ who is a disgrace to her sex, she annoyed all the officers in every possible manner. My uncle⁸ coming round the Cape in a storm got his arm broken which did not get well for some months. On the 30th July we arrived in Bombay after a passage of three months and a half. I suffered very much for want of exercise being accustomed to so much on the Survey. On my arrival I immediately went ashore. I was greatly disappointed on seeing Bombay. I expected to see a beautiful city like Dublin, but instead a dirty place more like an Irish village than a city; The hotel a dirty miserable place. I, my uncle, and two other officers with two hundred men were stationed in a barrack outside the town for 10 days. The 86th Reg.⁹ were there also, and of their men ten were dying every day with cholera; but none of our men died. Then we commenced a horrid march of one hundred miles through a miserable country and on the 18th of August we arrived in Poona,¹⁰ which is rather a handsome place – that is, where the officers are quartered; but the native town is a miserable place, the huts are made up of any thing. The officers bungalows are all built in lines with handsome gardens before them but on arriving all were obliged to buy their own bungalows. My uncle bought one for himself and me during the winter months. It is a very pleasant place as the bigwigs came up from Bombay and then there were plenty of balls and parties; but the worst of them is that there is such a scarcity of females, none but officers wives. There were only about three or four unmarried ladies in all Poona. The first time I went I was so very much ashamed putting on the kilt¹¹ that I was almost afraid to dance but now I dont care much about it. I then took to study the Hindoostanee language¹² and in six months – on the 5th of this month – passed my examination. Out of 13 officers my name was third. The Col.¹³ recommended me for an interpretership, which would have seven or eight pounds per month more; but they said I was too short a time in the service to obtain it. When I came down to Bombay for the examination I heard that our Regt.¹⁴ was to be off to Scind¹⁵ to fight the battles of her country, so after I passed I immediately started for Poona to get my things ready and arrived only two days before we began our march, which we did on the night of the 9th at 12 o’clock, in this country we always march at night as the sun in the day is so powerful it is impossible to be out of doors. We were always at the end of our march before the sun rose and then immediately pitched the tents. About half of the march was over when we received orders to take very little baggage and to leave all the women behind, so that after that we brought very little clothes. One of the men died by a sun stroke and we were obliged to bury him with his ‘Martial Cloak around him’¹⁶ as no coffins were to be obtained. We then embarked in small boats to come down a river into the harbour where we immediately embarked on board a large steamer which was to take us here. I got on shore for an hour, eat a good breakfast, had a pleasant chat for a short time with a couple of handsome girls who I suppose have come out on speck,¹⁷ then bought a tent and went on board again when we began our voyage, and in 5 days arrived here. All slept on deck at night as the heat in the cabins was not bearable. When the vessel anchored off, this place is about 9 miles from the landing place, we disembarked into small boats but, to get on shore, for a quarter mile were obliged to walk up to our knees in mud, just as bad a place as was at sweet Youghal.¹⁸ This place was taken three years since¹⁹ and some of the young fellows who were at the taking of it have exchanged into this Regt. It is a most miserable place, just one plain of sand. The men have some kind of barracks but are all obliged to lie on the ground. I and two other officers are living in a kind of barn, the walls made of bamboo matting and the roof of some kind of reeds. I often pitied the people of Ireland on account of living in little mud cabins, I wish I had one of them here it would keep out the sand and dust. To day we were obliged to cut <word[s] illeg.> of the house and go into my tent which was near. A whirlwind of dust came and filled the house with sand and when we returned what a picture everything was – covered an inch thick with it. The hot winds begin at twelve o’clock in the day. Just imagine yourself before a furnace and the blaze almost touching your face, this wind is not very far short of it. The thermometer in the middle of the day is from 100° to 110°,²⁰ lying on the bed a drop of sweat is continually dropping from our chins. We are here expecting every day to receive the order to proceed to Hyderabad,²¹ about 140 miles from this, where the Army is. When we go there I am afraid I shall not be able to write to you, as this country is in such as state, a detachment is always obliged to be sent with the dispatches, and monsoon sets in immediately and lasts for four months which stops all communication between Bombay and this. But every opportunity that offers I will write to you. This will not leave Bombay for England for another month. Remember me affectionately to Jim,²² Tidmarsh, Ginty and all enquiring friends. I must close now, as I am afraid I shall be late for the post. Excuse all blunders I have not time to read it over – there is not much sentiment in it but you will see what Bony²³ has been doing in this country. I hope we shall be removed immediately as this is such a horrid place. If you write to old Mr. Manaway²⁴ remember me to him. He has never written to me and I know not where he is. George Holmes has not written to me for many months, although I have not forgotten him. Read this if you can I almost defy you

I remain now and for ever | Your affectionate friend | Harold of Old.

RI MS JT 1/11/3734–6

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