It is at least a month later than that in the gardens at Sydney.

Behind the maize is a field of wheat, which looks tolerably for this part of the world.

It will, I reckon, yield about twelve bushels an acre.

Continued my walk and looked at a little patch of wheat in the governor's garden, which was sown in drills, the ground being first mixed with a clay which its discoverers pretended was marle.

Whatever it be, this experiment bespeaks not much in favour of its enriching qualities; for the corn looks miserably, and is far exceeded by some neighbouring spots on which no such advantage has been bestowed.