"Mister Robert Brown! Here Bobby, here's a letter from one of them ere lords as you is related to."
"Chuck it over ere, and hold yer thundering jaw," growled the gentleman alluded to.
When the tub was cleared of its contents, a sale of letters commenced, i. e. those who had none purchased one or two at second hand from their more fortunate shipmates.
"Now, then," shouted a freckled-face Pat, "here's a chance for yez, my boys,—a letthur from me Cousin Eiley—full av love and tinderness. Who sez a pint ov grog for this? wid two songs, one called 'Teddy Regan,' and the other 'Nora O'Shane,' put into the bargain. The letthur is worth all the grog, as it's chock full of family matters. Come, me boys! who sez a pint?" Upon this a big, stupid-looking topman called out in a half-ashamed manner,—"Heave it over here, Tim, I'll give ye a pint for it next time I'm cook." Having received it, the man walked below to his mess, where he indulged in the luxury of spelling over the letter, which we will give, with his comments upon the same.
"Limerick (I wish I was there).
"My darlin Tim (that's affectionate, anyhow),
"Ye will be sorry to learn that your aunt O'Brien is dead, an' has bin waked and berried, rest her sowld." (She's a good religious girl, anyhow.) "Peter McMahon swears he'll kill ye the fust time he sets eyes on ye, as yer brother Michael split the skull of his father's uncle during the wake." (Never mind, Tim; I'll help you.) "Tim achushla machree, send us yer half pay, for the love of Mary—we're nigh starved at times, an' it's hard work for a poor girl to keep straight, and she so poor and so many temptations round her." (Poor girl, I'll send her my half pay if he don't. Tim ain't half thoughtful for her.) "Mary Connor is married, and her husband gone to sea with a black eye she gave him" (I suppose he deserved it, anyhow); "an' Kathleen Shea wants to know if ye mean to keep yer word with her." (If he don't I will.)
"Yer mother sends her love, and with the same from yer loving
"Eiley Rooney."
(Bless her dear heart, how life-like she do write; that's what I call a nateral sort of letter.)
At the first quiet opportunity, the sailor questioned Tim as to what his Cousin Eily was like, and the answer he obtained was a quencher to his passion. "She's an ould devil, as keeps a fruit stall, an' is as ugly as the skipper, an' that's saying no little, me boy. But if ye wants to fall in love wid an illigant slip ov a colleen, I'll intrejuce yez to me Cousin Nora for a trifle ov grog." However, once bit twice shy, and the now enlightened sailor concluded to leave Tim's relations alone.
Thompson received about twenty-five letters in all, including one in the German language from Miss Pferdscreptern, which having opened, turned over, and held in every conceivable position, he reluctantly sold to a foretopman, who, not being able to read, did not care whether it was in German or Hebrew. After picking out Mary Ann's epistles, Jerry sold the balance of his correspondence unopened, and realized thereby a very handsome profit.
Clare had three short notes from Polly, that is, they were written for her by a friend, as she was unable to write even her own signature, although she contrived to spell out the letters Tom sent her, he always writing in a very round hand for her accommodation. Clare found that his wife had made him a father, and that the mother and child were doing well.