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established near this. Government speak of sending to the Cape for horses—rather a long look out. A lovely day for vegetation, warm and damp. No flood yet.
12th.—The cow is dead! Dies atro notandus lapillo!
13th.—Cut up and salted my poor deceased companion, and made candles of the tallow. Query, shall I make a mourning suit from the hide, which is jet black? I dined sumptuously on one of poor dear Cowsy's marrow-bones—and now she's gone—"marrow-bones, and all."
The weather has been so very mild that I have seldom observed the thermometer, which was at 52° at sunrise this morning, and 64° at noon in the shade; really the winter of this climate is delightful, like your charming June. The air at this moment is perfumed by a shrub resembling jessamine, bearing a yellow flower; this is the fifth odoriferous plant that I have met with; the ground is almost covered with it. I have had a disappointment in some more of my farming stock—thirteen eggs which should have produced chickens about this time, have every one failed. I have been favoured with two new songs from birds like thrushes; the notes are not much varied, but seem rather a repetition of something corresponding with these words, "come with me and let us make a nest, ah! do," to which the other seems to reply, "no indeed I shan't, at least with you"—the last note accented.
15th.—I turn from the harmony of these charming birds to the disrespectful tones of James, who swears that he will leave me, even if I should send him to Botany Bay, and because I will not allow him to hunt the dogs after some strange cows which have wandered on my land. I do not well know what to do with him; he looks very sulky, but has commenced his work again. I laughed him into good humour by leading him to the ditch at which he had been working, and putting a spade into his hand. And what do you think was the reason which he assigned for not leaving me, after all?—his going away would vex you!!! Poor Letty has a sore
