The winter during our first season was extremely mild: we had, it is true, several days of intense cold, and paroxysms of wind and hail, that merited, for their violence, the epithet of storms and tempests; but when the autumnal broken weather was again knit-up, we were surprised at the softness and tranquillity of the winter. It was certainly more temperate than the climate of England; even when the cold in the shadow of the trees and buildings was severest, the dryness of the air made it much less sensible than we had prepared ourselves to experience.

Agreeably to my predetermined plan, on the first of November I suspended for the winter all the outdoor labour on my own lands, and sent the emigrants to their’s; but the system, from the inattention of some, the self-opiniatedness of others, and a general disposition to postpone their work from day to day, convinced me that my troubles were only commencing. Novelty, no doubt, was an influential ingredient in preserving the sobriety with which our first tasks were executed; something was also due to the feeling of strangeness that existed for a considerable time; but as familiarity increased, discipline became flexible, so that long before the winter was over, it was found that the advantages of reciprocal civility were not enough to restrain the heats and spurts of individual peculiarity. But, on the whole, the plan worked onward, and I had the satisfaction to perceive, that although the progress was not regular, the forthcoming would not be disappointment.