8th.—Heavy rain last night. Cannot go on dressing. Did nothing all day.
9th.—Stayed in the hut doing nothing.
10th, Sunday.—Ditto.
11th.—Tired of doing nothing. Dressed sheep most of the day. Muston out kangarooing; caught three.
12th.—Cooking. Made a "sea-pie," which was generally admired.
August 1st.—The Doctor arrived from York, driving tandem in E.'s trap. He has brought me a parcel of books just come from England. Blessings on my dear sister for remembering me. I thought myself forgotten by all the world. Sisters (Heaven for ever bless them!) are the only people that never forget. News from home! How many thoughts come flooding upon me!
2d.—Last night, I confess, I cried myself to sleep, like a great big baby. I am very comfortable and contented so long as I receive no letter from home; and yet I am such a fool as to wish for them; and when they come I am made miserable for a week afterwards. Somehow, they make me feel my loneliness more. I feel deserted, forgotten by all but ONE. She says she is constantly wishing for me in her rides. They seem to enjoy themselves more at home than they used to do, now that we are gone—always picknicking, boating, or forming riding parties. "Fairy" continues the favourite—I always thought she was a good hack. "Light-foot," whom I lamed hunting, was obliged to be sold. It seems to be a sore subject with the Governor. I wonder how Juno has turned out; she was a splendid-looking whelp. I wish they'd enter more into particulars when they write. It's ridiculous my asking questions, as it will be more than a year before answers can arrive. They ought to write about EVERY THING. I cannot bear to think to-day of anything but home.
3d.—The Doctor gone back to York—sulky about the sheep being so bad. Why does he not send us more tobacco and turpentine? Says we smoke it all. The Doctor is an——. Promises to send K. next week with mercurial ointment; it is therefore useless to waste any more tobacco on the sheep—the stock is low enough as it is.
4th.—Lay all day on my couch, reading "Rose d'Albret." Wish I had her here. One wants somebody to sympathize with so desperately in the bush.
5th.—Ditto, ditto.