Captain Mangles told us yesterday that a ship had come in; it was not known with certainty, when he came off, what ship it was.
11th.—Sat up last night sketching a plan for employing prisoners as a working gang, I shot a duck before breakfast, and had, very reluctantly, to swim across the river for it; found the water by no means so cold as I have often experienced in bathing at home in summer; on the surface it was cold, but was quite agreeable at the depth of two feet. A little rain this morning, but the middle of the day as warm almost as your summer:—certainly this is a fine climate, though rather on the warm side in summer. Shot two cockatoos, which are excellent eating. Rain commenced at one P.M., and has continued pretty constant, and sometimes heavy. River swollen fourteen inches.
12th.—Rain all day. Continued building within doors. Weather not cold, like your wet summer.
13th.—Rain has ceased. Every thing looking well in the garden; all my cabbages strong and healthy. Shot a brace of ducks, one fell in the river, had to swim for him—any thing for a fresh mess. In the evening shot a bird which some call a squeaker. Tied my two cows for an hour to feed; they became tame,—thanks to the tethers.
16th.—Nothing worth noting has occurred for the last two days. My men have been enclosing the distant field. Crows are very persevering and destructive; shot one, with its stomach full of wheat—hope to have the field finished tomorrow. Much thunder and rain on Monday night, but the weather looks settled again; we have had nothing like winter yet. The Stirling has arrived; I must go down to buy a boat and other things.
17th.—Have been kangaroo hunting with young Shaw; we had three runs, but got only one brush kangaroo, about fifteen pounds' weight; I got half of it (the usual terms of hunting in company)—dined on part of it—delicious eating.