August 14 1852 My own Douglas This is Saturday night and you can scarcely conceive how dull I feel without you and how often I think of you. I have been confined to the house all day sorting letters, burning old useless papers, talking to natives and as 11 o'clock strikes I am just conveying my love to you which is ever as constant and durable as the sun that shines over us. The confinement and damp weather has given me a slight cold so my attendant has boiled a kettleful of water and placed a tub in my bedroom that I may bathe in, and [crossed out] tomorrow I expect to rise as happy, healthy and cheerful as the lark, or the koromoko that represents that bird in this country. I have no news for you puss excepting that I shall endeavour to leave here about the end of August for Wellington. I spend every Sunday after church till 8pm with the Wilson's. The Taranaki people go to bed generally at 10 and rise at 7. They are much more regular than at Wellington so much so indeed that the bad habits you have encouraged me in has more than once nearly deprived me of my 8 o'clock breakfast, my half past dinner I can manage and 6 o'clock tea, no supper, no wine excepting on Saturday night when I indulge in one or two glasses and a few almonds and raisins. The weather has broken although I expect tomorrow will be a fine day. Every Sunday here is remarked as being fine compared with week days. My work is going on favorably and I am most industrious. The word industry reminds me of poor Mama who used to think from the time I spent with you that I must have had little to do. She is now retired from all the perplexing cares of this world and I trust my pussy that you may never do anything that she would object to. Remember the faithful counsel she has often given you and may the reflection of her departed spirit on your mind ever guard you from all evil. I am ever my own Douglas you affectionate and devoted husband Donald McLean