MY DEAR MOTHER,
I have again to plead guilty of the sin of omitting to write. It
is many months since I have heard from you, and as for Charley and
the girls, they do not write at all. I have just left the bush and
am living, for the present, in town. The change is pleasant, after
being so long in the bush. Melbourne is wonderfully altered since I
last saw it. There are some very fair buildings in it now, and
things are a little cheaper than they used to be. I am, of course,
living in lodgings, and am fortunate in getting into a comfortable
house; a private family with no other lodgers, and Mrs. H. takes
almost as much care of me as you would. It is quite strange, and at
the same time amusing to me, to see her anxiety about my eating,
drinking, catching cold, and all that sort of thing, as I have been
so long unaccustomed to these little attentions. I am sure if some
of you who have never been away from home were to see how we live
in the bush, you would not expect us to survive more than a few
weeks, and yet it does us no harm whatever. I passed through
Ballaarat on my way down, and spent a few days with my father. He
was looking better than he used to be, very healthy, and not so
stout.
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