| Title: | Terence Finnigan, California, To "Biddy Darlin." Ireland |
|---|---|
| ID | 1041 |
| Collection | Irish Emigration Database |
| File | Finnigan, Terence/11 |
| Year | 1850 |
| Sender | Finnigan, Terence |
| Sender Gender | male |
| Sender Occupation | gold miner |
| Sender Religion | unknown |
| Origin | San Francisco, California, USA |
| Destination | Ireland |
| Recipient | Finnigan, Bridget (Biddy) |
| Recipient Gender | female |
| Relationship | husband-wife |
| Source | The Belfast Commercial Chronicle, Monday, 15 April, 1850 |
| Archive | The Linenhall Library, Belfast. |
| Doc. No. | 9808313 |
| Date | 15/04/1850 |
| Partial Date | |
| Doc. Type | EMG |
| Log | Document added by LT, 14:08:98. |
| Word Count | 593 |
| Genre | |
| Note | |
| Transcript | AN IRISHMAN'S LETTER FROM CALIFORNIA. As everything from California is important, we offer no apology for publishing the following letter, kindly furnished by an Irish damsel, whose sweetheart went out some fourteen months ago to dig up a "fortin" [fortune?] for himself and Biddy, in the land of gold:- "Sanfransiskey [San Francisco?], Dec. 8, 1849. Biddy Darlin, - I've been diggin in the mines - bad luck to the spalpeen that deluded me to [to] come next or nigh them - for seven weeks, Biddy, accushla, sarching [searching?] for goold [gold?]; but a body might as well look for new pitayies [potatoes?] in Thriffalgar-square [Trafalgar Square?]. The schayming [scheming?] villyan [villain?] of a say-cap'n [sea-captain?] that tuck [took?] me out tould [told?] me I'd be [be] sure to meet an ould [old?] friend, one Terry Fermor, as soon as we made land, but by the powers o' [of?] war, we made wather [water?] so fast all the way, that it was a mercy we ever set out tin [ten?] toes alive out o' [of?] the ship; and after all the divil [devil?] a morsel of Terry could I find anywhere, so I started off for the diggins all alone by himself, maning [managing?] to ketch [catch?] fortin in time, but instid [instead?] of that I caught the yalla [yellow?] fayver [fever?], which is the only favour [fever?] I ever met with in these parts, not to spake [speak?] of a touch of the dissentherey [dysentery?] (I niver [never?] liked anything belonging to them dissenthers) [dissenters?]; by rason [reason?] of working so hard in the bowels of the airth [earth?], and lying on an empty stummick [stomach?], for we mostly had nothin [nothing?] to ate [eat?] for brekfast [breakfast?], the same for dinner, and ditto repaited [repeated?] for supper, and all the time throwing up mud and wather [water?], which is mighty wakening to the inside. Washin' is plenty here, but I can't say much for their boardin' or lodgin'. Pitayties [potatoes?] was a dollar a pound and no mate [meat?] but gristly [grissly?] bares [bears?] which is tuff [tough?] customers to dale [deal?] with. Some of the boys who came out in the same ship with me, I heerd [heard?] picked up a decent [-----?] of gold in the river, but divil [devil?] as much as the makings of a weddin' ring did I get for my trouble. Ah then Biddy darlin' wasn't I misfortunate blaggard for laving [leaving?] a purty [pretty?] colleen like yourself to come to a country where the wimmen [women?] - saving your presence, Biddy - are the colour of a copper tay [tea?] kettle and have no more dry goods on their backs than ould [old?] Mother Eve, before she turned manty-maker, and brought in the fashion of vegetable aprons? What's to become of my [me?] now I don't know. I thought of turning my hand to a crossin-sweeping in Sanfransiskey [San Francisco?], but the street-cleaning is done by birds in this place, and the only fashionable amusements are gambling, jewelling [dualling?], and shooicide [suicide?], which keeps things alive. You may have read in the papers that the diggers [-----ing?] goold [gold?] in quartz [quarts?]; but don't believe it, Biddy. I'll be on my oath none of them ever found a pint of it; so you see how they exasperate things far off. Biddy, darlin', I wish you could hit on some way to get me out of this crewel [cruel?] spot. If you wor [were?] to thry [try?] and raffle me. I think the boys of the Sivin Diles [Dales?] and Droorey Lain [Drury Lane?] would take tickets to raise me out of my grate [great?] trubble [trouble?]. If I was oncest [once?] back wid [with?] you, Biddy, I'd never ax [ask?] to lave [leave?] you agin [again?] while grass grows and wather [water?] runs. "Your lover in disthress [distress?], "Terence Finnigan". |
