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Sydney Infirmary, No.1 Ward, July the 1st. 1858.

Revd Mr. Hassall,

Revd Sir, — I would have written to you long ere this, but I had two blisters on my side and belly, which remained sore for so long a time, that it was totally impossible for me to venture to write sooner.  I am going on very slowly but my physician says my recovery must be a work of time; for my system was so much deranged from my disease that it cannot be expected I could go on so favorably as I should under different circumstances. Still I have to thank my God I am so well.  Several, say 3 persons — have died in this ward since your kind visit, one from the rupture of a blood vessel, one from Dysentry, and one last night from fever of a malignant type, all here now are doing well. 

But the changeable weather experienced here of late tells fearfully on us all,  I keep my snug nest all the while, and only rise at nature's call, or to get my bed made up.  My head feels queer at times, owing to the disorganised state of my bowels  —  and I experience twenty queer changes during the lapse of the 24 hours — yet I am vigorous in mind, thank God, and this is mainly due to my favorite Book, the blessed and holy Bible.  In the Sanctified pages of that divine work I find all the Consolation I need in this world.  'Tis a treasure of treasures to me at any rate — I find comfort and assurance when I look into its glorious pages, and derive Sweet Consolation from the promises contained in that Sacred and inspired volume.  O, Revd. Sir, few there be, men amongst us, sick and infirm as we are — who do not prefer any other production to the Blessed Scriptures.  Yet there are some here who pretty frequently read it, and seem to take more than ordinary interest in its delightful perusal. 

I have been shocked though more than once at the utter indifference, the recklessness that the greater bulk of the patients display when a fellow-sufferer is called to his long account.  I have seen and heard them laugh, and joke, and converse on subjects foreign to the scene enacting under their very eyes, as if they were in some groggery quaffing the accursed dram, and revelling and glorying in their horrid Bacchanallian orgies. Death has no terrors for them to all appearance, they chat and laugh away as if so dreadful an act in the last scene of  suffering humanity was to be considered only in the light and meaning of the death of an ox or a hog.  It acts otherwise on me.  It calls up melancholy, tho' pious reflections, and hurries me on more eagerly to make my peace with my Almighty Father thro' the atoning blood of his beloved Son Jesus Christ.  This place, Revd Sir, is a fine school for taking impressive lessons in, but I regret to say few there are here who seem to profit by its instructions.  The coarse ribald jest — the low and foul expressions indicative of the class  that gives them utterance — not unfrequently offends and hurts the ear, And often those expressions are interlarded with blasphemies and oaths, and shocking curses.  And all this is heard in the very chambers of disease and death, unproductive of no concern for the welfare of their immortal spirits. 

Of late — barring on Sundays — we have had no visits from the clergymen of this City. even the Methodist tract distributor, ever foremost in promoting christian knowledge —  has not shewn his face here for some time.  'Tis strange they do not come to such places as this at any [Stagger?] — but they of late they have not