100 St Vincent 3 June, 1891. I was shown into a room, but afterwards descended and said he would not ride to town. According to an examination I gave him the required certificate as he was really ill. He came pretty frank with him in regard to the cause of much of his illness, and he promised me to answer, and pleaded on the cause, the great trouble he had had. His wife was in Paris, and one of his children had been very ill. He was in the French army during the Franco-Prussian war and had married a French marquise. She had taken him and his wife's photographs. A few years ago she was a fine looking fellow, and now he is a wreck. He is, I know, a first Horse Ruler, and he showed me a letter from Ireland. I told him I thought that the frightened ploughman was running Ireland, and he promptly replied that he didn't care a devil what she becomes of them all now. On getting back to Grand Table I was received warmly by my genial host, who had all the same graces as had been at dinner last night. We had another banquet, and afterwards carriage was brought round, and we all went to Wolvis' Internment at Mr Dentwich's. We were preceded by Mr Patu, and Miss Mary the Frenchman, and had a pleasant evening with Sirguis, Muni & Williams. We got back to Grand Table just before the rain came down heavily. 101 St. Vincent. 4 June, 1891. It rained in torrents all night, awfully tropical storm, and as I had to shut all the glass windows, it was exceedingly hot and close. All the others left early in the morning, Jack Howell on a bicycle, and the others in carriages, so they were going back to town, and we anxious to get across the ford at over the Yamba River at Aigle, before it became impossible. So I was left alone in my plan to wait for Dr Bruce Austin who had gone the previous night to sleep at Georgetown, and intended to call for me this morning, or for me to go into Jumby's Cottage to stay with him for a few days. But the rain came down, down, down, and he came on. So I went to inquire what was to do and he said come on to them, so he ran with Kenneth storm-stayed at Georgetown at the old police station. So I went in and met him cantering straight down the main street to join me. Whether had a consultation or whether we should go on, the stream would be very swollen, and at last decided to join Kenneth when we found searching for a dry place in the old station so that he could put a comparatively dry jackboot. He had no shoes, and finally decided to make do with it. So we left Kenneth behind,