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. About ten acres of ground close to the house have been
reserved and are called "the garden," in which have been planted
turnips, flax, beet-root, lettuce, tomatoes, and potatoes; in
short, all the luxuries of the season. But I am afraid none will
be ready before we leave, if we carry out our idea of going to
Colorado early in August.

We have been craving for rain, and at last, luckily, had a
delightful shower a few days ago, which has freshened us up and
will make things grow. There is no grass as yet above four inches
in height, and this time last year they were hay-making. The men
are beginning to fear there will be none; but with a little warm
weather and a certain amount of rain everything grows as if by
magic, so we may still hope to have a good season.

Only very few of the garden-seeds have made their appearance,
which is disappointing after all the trouble they were; but the