Wednesday, February 26th

A hot forenoon, wind N.E. but almost calm. The two last days have been singularly calm for this place. Becoming rather disturbed by the protracted absence of Henry and Fredk., no sign of them yet. The bullock is drawing gaily firewood and poles from the wood. The yawl is getting on well, her sides being today completed. Griffin made a pair of brands E.W. which being seen in his shop produced twenty orders for similar ones. Andy choosing ribbons and neckerchiefs to send home to his wife as specimens of the productions of New Zealand—a curious idea. This is drowsy work for me. I have nothing to do while every one else is busy; do not expect much active work until operations commence on the Island. I sit in the cool stable and imagine myself at Ballylin, and imagine the ducks and the grey plover at the hall door; turf-smoke and organs mingle strangely in these daydreams—heigh-ho! for two years and the patience of Jacob. 'And the seven years seemed to him but as seven days-for the love be bore her'. It could not have been so, but vice-versa.