Aug. 3.—Had some good soup, and feel better. All is done for me that can be done by my friends. Rowe and Sanders in almost as bad a condition as myself. Just about where I was two or three weeks ago. Seem to have come down all at once. August goes for them.
Aug. 4.—Storm threatened. Will cool the atmosphere. Hard work to write.
Aug. 5.—Severe storm. Could die in two hours if I wanted to, but don’t.
Aug. 12.—Warm. Warm. Warm. If I only had some shade to lay in, and a glass of lemonade.
Aug. 13.—A nice spring of cold water has broken out in camp, enough to furnish nearly all here with drinking water. God has not forgotten us. Battese brings it to me to drink.
Aug. 14.—Battese very hopeful, as exchange rumors are afloat. Talks more about it than ever before.
Aug. 15.—The water is a God-send. Sanders better and Rowe worse.
Aug. 16.—Still in the land of the living. Capt. Wirtz is sick and a Lieut. Davis acting in his stead.
Aug. 17.—Hanging on yet. A good many more than two hundred and twenty-five die now in twenty-four hours. Messes that have stopped near us are all dead.