| Title: | McMahon Glynn, Patrick to Glynn, Mary Agnes, 1885 |
|---|---|
| ID | 4384 |
| Collection | Patrick McMahon Glynn: Letters to his family (1874-1927) [Gerald Glynn O'Collins] |
| File | glynn/34 |
| Year | 1885 |
| Sender | McMahon Glynn, Patrick |
| Sender Gender | male |
| Sender Occupation | lawyer |
| Sender Religion | unknown |
| Origin | Kapunda, South Australia, Australia |
| Destination | Gort, Co. Galway, Ireland |
| Recipient | Glynn, Mary Agnes |
| Recipient Gender | female |
| Relationship | siblings |
| Source | |
| Archive | |
| Doc. No. | |
| Date | |
| Partial Date | |
| Doc. Type | |
| Log | unknown |
| Word Count | 733 |
| Genre | correspondence, weather, decease, family, description of landscape |
| Note | |
| Transcript | Kapunda January 23rd 1885 My dear Mary Agnes They say that women are more thoughtful than men, and I have no doubt about it, as I never think of sending Xmas cards until a few days before Xmas, as if it was only a couple of days sail from here to Ireland. Yours, with the Shamrock, was the prettiest one I have seen, as was the opinion of every one who saw it. The photograph which Mama enclosed in her letter of you, Eugene, Joseph, and, I suppose, Rollo the third, seems very good. Joseph has changed so much, that, if he had been taken by himself, I would scarcely have known him. All the boys deserve great credit for having passed their examinations so well. Tell Bob and Joe to remember me to my old friends at Blackrock. By the way, I see on looking at your letter, that the name of the four legged individual in the photo is Gip, not Rollo. We are in the midst of the summer here now, though really the place is exceptionally cool this year. It is hot enough, but nothing to last year, when on some days bottles flew to pieces, candles bent in all shapes and styles, and Kettles almost boiled (dry) without being put on the fire. Sometimes, in the very dry weather, the little birds, timid as they are, go to people's houses and help themselves to water. What would [you] say on seeing a magpie flying after Regsheen for a drink? They have been known here to alight upon the billies, or cans, of bushmen, when they had them in their hands. You might mention that Mrs. O'Neil, Elly Glynn, that was, lost her eldest son — a very promising boy. It was a great blow to her. Of course, I never see her, as she lives over a thousand miles from here in Sydney, but she writes sometimes. She is very much to be pitied. I am glad the Tuam News takes notice of our work here, trying to make the state — that is, the whole people, own the land and not a few landlords. It may do some good to know that we are working for that here. Johnny Wallsh had a nice situation in a large furnishing place in Adelaide as bookkeeper, but the house was recently burned down, so he has been out of a billet since. Tell Tommy that I had a letter this week from a young fellow named William Reams, who lived next door to Brannon's at Merrion Row when Tommy was there. He is, he says, son of Daniel Kearns of Peterswell. He wrote to me to know could I get him a Government appointment, which, of course, I can't. There is not much fun to be got out of doors here. We have no rivers nor lakes. The Murray, about 50 miles from here, is a mud colored, sluggish, river about 200 yards wide, running between dreary flats, lined or rather covered with sickly gums, and cliffs of clay and fossils. In parts of it you can get codfish, which the blackfellows catch in a funny way. The trees are nearly always hollow at the stump, after a certain age, spreading out like a goul ogue [? ghoul ogre]. The blackfellows dive and get up into the hollows of the sunken stumps where the cod fish are fond of camping, & generally come up with one. But the other rivers are merely chains of water holes, with no fish in them except crayfish, a little smaller than Dublin prawns, which Johnny knows something about, or three times the size of shrimps & some, pinkuns. In the interior the rivers often get completely soaked up by the thirsty earth, having no mouths. I would give a good deal for a day's trout fishing now. If Ireland had a little of the Australian sun, or Australia some of the Irish water, either would be a fine place. Remember me to Paddy Madden when you see him. Tell him I don't forget the trips to dear Island. I see James has been recording the beauties of New Quay and its surroundings for the Hotel Mail. I have written to him today also, so have got through any news I had. I must now close, with love to you all. Your affectionate brother P. McM. Glynn |
