Our Mutton, A
Leg, Was Very Nicely Done, Also Our Vegetables, Rice, And Beans; But
The "Evaporated" Apples, Which We Use Much, Required Boiling Previous
To Being Put In A Tart, Which We Neither Of Us Knew.
Therefore they
were not done, and the crust was all burst.
The men from the tent, who
generally spend their Sundays here, were allowed some dinner, on
condition they washed up afterwards.
* * * * *
June 18.
I am afraid our letters will not be so interesting as the novelty
wears off: the monotony of our life may begin to pall upon us. We
hardly ever go two miles beyond the farm; to take our neighbours
at the tent their letters or parcels brought out from town, is
about the limit to our wanderings. We did drive one of the waggons
to our neighbour Mr. Boyle to fetch home some oats the other
night, and we also have been into town to pay our respects to the
Governor and his wife. We happily don't want much outside
attraction, for we have so much to do on the farm. The men work us
pretty hard, I can tell you; as, besides all our indoor work, we
have had three afternoons cutting potatoes for seed, until our
hands are too awful to look at, and the water is so hard that we
never shall get them a decent colour again. Some "white elephants"
potatoes, planted three weeks ago (thirty in number we cut into
420 pieces) already make a great show, and will want banking up
next week.
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