[Campton—Wednesday, 12 June 1867]
Wednesday. Still perfect weather—we sit and read and sew and write a few letters, but our chief business and occupation is life out-of-doors in this delicious air. No sounds come to us here, but the “baa” of sheep, the cry of the crow, the occasional “whip” of the whippoorwill and the exquisite song of the thrush and his companions, though I must not forget a noisy robin who sits in our fir-tree by the door who is highly sociable and conversational. Jamie brings ferns & flowers in the morning, rides and drives & is happy.
