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Title: McMahon Glynn, Patrick to Glynn, Mary Agnes, 1896
CollectionPatrick McMahon Glynn: Letters to his family (1874-1927) [Gerald Glynn O'Collins]
SenderMcMahon Glynn, Patrick
Sender Gendermale
Sender Occupationpolitician
Sender Religionunknown
OriginAdelaide, South Australia, Australia
DestinationGort, Co. Galway, Ireland
RecipientGlynn, Mary Agnes
Recipient Genderfemale
Doc. No.
Partial Date
Doc. Type
Word Count822
Genrebachelorhood, horses, family
TranscriptQueens 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