| Title: | McMahon Glynn, Patrick to Glynn, Mary Agnes, 1896 |
|---|---|
| ID | 4426 |
| Collection | Patrick McMahon Glynn: Letters to his family (1874-1927) [Gerald Glynn O'Collins] |
| File | glynn/78 |
| Year | 1896 |
| Sender | McMahon Glynn, Patrick |
| Sender Gender | male |
| Sender Occupation | politician |
| Sender Religion | unknown |
| Origin | Adelaide, 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 | 822 |
| Genre | bachelorhood, horses, family |
| Note | |
| Transcript | Queens Chambers Pirie St. Adelaide 1 February 1896 My dear Agnes I have been looking everywhere tonight—it is Saturday and I am in my office—for your letter, but have not had as yet the luck to find it. Some how or another I always forget that between me and Gort there are 13,000 or 14,000 miles of intervening ocean, which makes me only think of Christmas cards when the festive season is upon me I must therefore all the more appreciate the thoughtfulness of those at home in not forgetting me. No wonder you did not know me, as when I last saw you on the left hand side of the fireplace in the parlor you were merely a girl in embryo & very short dresses. I am glad that my photographic appearance still passes muster with one member of your sex, as it raises in me some hopes that the charity of some fetching woman may even yet be extended, and perhaps put an end, to my loneliness. What a life I have misled. Here I am at 40, still on the shift, for I believe I gave notice of a change of lodgings for today, but omitted -to look up other quarters—and my stable companion has gone on a holiday leaving me to arrange for new accommodation in his absence. Marriage may be a failure, but it cannot be much worse than single misery. I happen to be one of those fellows that know everyone, but no one really knows. I gave you this piece of self portraiture as Mrs. Madden told me once you wondered what sort of a card I am. Not that she said "card", but meant about the same thing. I have still some Modesty—in the horse line. She was photographed this morning with a lady on her back. I wanted a photo of the girl and got Modesty taken, so you see I am not such a fool after all. This little, or rather little-big Mare, carried me without a false step last season—indeed never, excepting when tripped by a loose wire, fell in her life—is very pretty, very flash in the field, so no wonder I think much of her. For the last 10 months, unfortunately, a cataract has spread over her left eye. Still, with one eye, she is an artist over fences. I rode a new mare last year 6 or 7 times, who will not fall in a hurry, but is not perfectly straight yet. It was old Cadger, Brilliant as he is, that always came down once or twice a season. I have superannuated him. By the way, tonight I found a letter at Parliament House from a William Rosen grave, No.1 Polk St. South Melbourne, wanting to know who I am. I believe I am myself; but He seeks to identify me as a son of my mother and nephew of Johnny Wallsh, Grace Wallsh, to whom he claims first cousinship. I am going to reply that he is not. Gort must be somewhat different now, with Joseph a married man in officer's quarters, you grown up to majority, etc. etc. I would like to be there sometimes, to see what the river looks like now from the Bridge, how the Punch Bowl gets on, hear the Breakers again on the Rocky shore at New Quay, sail round Auglinush to Deer island —but whether my mind would ever admit of any intervals of dreaming rest again, I hardly know and somewhat doubt. I think the New Quayites and people like them, who live in the elements and the affections are, with all their poverty, or half poverty, the happiest in the long run. Their lives are better than the civilised drugcry of an office. Somehow I have almost begun to detest politics, but I dare say it is principally from its destruction of leisure, and its coarse conditions. When I see ladies in the gallery, if their years are capable of being acknowledged, I sometimes am made to feel what a contrast they suggest between the two atmospheres in which a man might live. In some letter from home I had an enquiry about a Miss Flanagan, sister of the Flanagans of Rosegreene lane. That ought to be the name, but I don't think it is. Well, she is here and comes in to enquire about her Brother Tommy sometimes, wanting to know whether he is still in the Militia. I will find her out, if necessary. Eugene I have not seen for about three months. How are you all at home. Give my love to my mother and the Rest, I am afraid I am in arrears with letters. I must now reply in the negative to a deputation that yesterday asked me to stand for another District in the approaching elections. For the present, excuse Your affectionate Brother P. McM. Glynn |
