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Kangatong
27th August 1846
My dearest Mother, 
Your last letters were dated February, wishing us to return, but our lot is cast at least for the present here and were we to return we should be in a worse position than when we left. Besides, I trust the worst is past. We could live here now upon the increase of the cattle, in your country it would not pay house rent. Had we a station now we might be saving money as dairy produce is again paying well, but the country is so much taken up that I fear there is little chance of procuring one so George thinks of turning farmer but we are still unsettled yet as he will not be able to get this land, if he does, until the beginning of next year. 
I wish my mind was easy about you all. Mary does not seem to be getting so many scholars as I could wish. Dear Mother, I cannot tell you how constantly you are all in my sleeping and waking thoughts. The forms of the departed ones are always more vivid to me when asleep than the living; doubtless they are the same to you. Well, I for one would not want my nightly visions for a trifle.
I am glad you like Mrs Slate although one part of Mary's last letter grieved and astonished me, that relating to the Dawsons. I suspected that his friends would not be so free with their cash as he supposed and frequently said as much as I could do to that effect to Mrs D. but to no purpose and when they lately received a bill for one hundred pounds they were consequently disappointed. Still I think Mrs Slate ought not to have said to any of you, almost strangers, what she did, and I hope you will not repeat in your turn anything I may say about the D. Family, for it is necessary to bear in mind that all persons are not as sincere or little given to make mischief as yourselves. I am really sorry for Mrs Dawson. She would give her last penny to another, and she fancies all are like herself, and I am convinced this expectation of money from home has done and is doing them a great deal of harm, for they spend a great deal uselessly and though there are plenty of milking cows on the run and butter and cheese are realising good prices, they are not yet milking any.
Mrs Dawson is still very unwell. Indeed I fear she will never be better. I am sure hers is a life of suffering, and yet she clings to it. A change to her must be for the better.
So poor Mr Aspland is released at last, he was long ill. I saw a notice of his death in two different London papers and cut one out. The boys read aloud one of his sermons every Sunday night, which brings you all to my recollection. Mrs Dawson says that Mrs Slate's father and mother were Unitarians, what she is, and that the Dawson family are also. She says that Mr D. here is one, but I think he is an Anything Arian.
An old Irish woman gave me a lesson in stocking knitting, so now I can knit