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Title: McMahon Glynn, Patrick to Glynn, Mary Agnes, 1884
CollectionPatrick McMahon Glynn: Letters to his family (1874-1927) [Gerald Glynn O'Collins]
SenderMcMahon Glynn, Patrick
Sender Gendermale
Sender Occupationlawyer
Sender Religionunknown
OriginKapunda, South Australia, Australia
DestinationGort, Co. Galway, Ireland
RecipientGlynn, Mary Agnes
Recipient Genderfemale
Doc. No.
Partial Date
Doc. Type
Word Count585
Genrefamily, weather
TranscriptKapunda South Australia
Jany 16th 1884.

My dear Mary Agnes
Your letter has been in my waistcoat pocket waiting for an
answer for the last two mails, but the reply had from something or
another to be put off till now. However, the news that I could send
you about people here would be stale to you at any time. From what
you told me it seems that you have grown into quite a young woman
for the last 31/2 years; a short time to look back upon, but it brings
about many changes. I remember when Tommy, John MacNamara,
Wafly Cook, Shiel, and myself used to make up Jerry Brougham's
fifth class; fourteen years ago now. Denis Hoolean and Rollo used to
call for us when Jerry kept us too late, and Denis was the man that could make himself heard. You probably go to the Nuns school.
Remember me to the Reverend Mother and all the Sisters. Has Mrs.
De Sales got that short butt of a ruler yet, that used to tickle our
hands for us every morning, and defy all the horse-hairs in Christiandom
to split it? Many a night I dreamt of it, and went to school
smiling next day at the prospect of having to shake hands with it
again. Well, Gort was not such a bad place after all. There are not
many places so nice as the Punch Bowl, nor are there many things so
pleasant as to sit down on the seat that faces the ladle, and study away
there for hours as I used to do when preparing for College Examinations,
with Duxey McKeon helping me to understand what was hard.
There was a sweetness in everything around, which fellows out here
often dream about when they get into a thinking mood. I suppose you
sometimes go for a Sunday to New Quay in the Summer time, and get
Paddy Madden to take you for a row to Dear Island. If you don't,
you should get Johnny to take you down some day as he used to do
before. Remember me to Paddy Madden. Curious to say, about 18
months ago I wrote at random the first two chapters of a story in
which the Maddens were the principal characters, with an addition
to their family created by my imagination. I laid it aside unfinished,
not being satisfied with it.
This is a very hot country sometimes, but very changeable. For
the last few days I might as well have been in a Turkish bath as in
my office. You will see by the extract from a paper enclosed in this
that Sunday last was a regular Scortcher. The wind from the
North, which, of course here means from the Equatorial regions, is
like the blast from a furnace. It gets heated passing over dry, sun
withered countries. When a change comes on, the houses are like
ovens for a few days longer.
You said in your letter that Baby O'Donnell was able to say
"Go. Wa." when she left Gort after her visit. If so, she is picking up
Chinese, which is a language altogether of monosyllables. In the
enclosed photograph—the middle man is Fooks, whom I met for the
first time a few hours before it was taken, the other a client of mine
named Miller. My time being now up, I must bid you goodbye, with
love and remembrances to all
Your affect, brother
P. McM. Glynn
Miss M. A. Glynn