PAUDEEN’S LETTER TO BIDDY IN IRELAND.

Kumara Times, Issue 794, 17 April 1879, Page 2

PAUDEEN’S LETTER TO BIDDY IN IRELAND.

The following communication has handed us for publication; the phraseology and ideas to be elucidated we must leave to the intellect of our readers to fathom : Dear Biddy T write these few lines to let you know that myself and Darby Flinn got here just as you tould us, the divil a trauneen betune, but sure we wor tould that in this grate town rain loike we would soon make a fortun, what betune diggin for goold and workin for the Corporation, we wor all right. So, Biddy darlin, you may soon expect a sheck for a big lot of money to bring you and the childher out to Kumara. The Borrey Council, more power to ’em, ai’e a dacent lot of boys, and more betoken these is a boy of the Blake’s, the mare, and he must have a drap o’ the ould Galway blood in him, too, for he nearly druv the Council wild over a sartin motion made by one Councillor Hanna, because none o’ the other divils of Crs. would second his motion, and he wouldn’t do it himself—God betune us and harm. He keeps a whisky shop something like ould Dinny Sullivan, at the cross roads ; and the same Cr. Hanna keeps one too. Oh ! sure, Biddy darlin, ’tis a grate council intirely. They tell me that I must stand at the next illiction, and then they’d be made up intirely, and that I’ll soon fill the vacant mare’s sate. Sure, and won’t Father Murphy be the proud man thin 1 and the ould hedge schoolmaster—him thatlarnt me the Latin ould Tim Pinnigiu ? Requiescat in pace, as the undertakers say, whin the poor divil dies. The lamed body of Councillors wouldn’t back up the motion. More power to ’em, i say, for sure and wouldn,t it ruin some o’ them that keeps the whisky shops 1 because ould Price—that’s the magistrate—couldn’t give them (hransfers and the like when they are insolvent! Oh ! Phwat did I say ! Insolvent ? Sure, and it ia a mistake,

for none can be that way here. Goold ( goold ! and plenty of work for tin bob a day ; and Biddy, isn’t it grate money that 1 I’ll bny you a foine big washtub and a new scrubbing-brush when you get here, and I’m the mare, the divil a finer pair there’ll be, at all, at all. The Peelers are the finest fellows in the country ; blue coats and white buttons, and nothing to do but wink at the girls, and drink and eat in the whisky shops j because the Council (good luck to them !) don’t ax them to do anything. The foine dancing houses, begorra, a pantheon or fair was no* tiling to thim Bangs Bannagher, and all the world knows that Bannagher bangs the divil. The Council wants to make them pay a licence 5 but the Peelers won’t ax them ; and, sure, what can the Council do ? Share and when I’m the mare, ’tis then I’ll show* them. I think, darlin, that I can’t say any more at present; but whin I write the next time, if the Borrey Conucil don’t give me a job at more than ten bob a day, I’ll tell you all about it, and I'll up-et constitution and bye-laws. No more at present, from your loving has-' baud, PAUDfiKN O’fU.FFERTY, Kumara, April 16,1879. P.S. Give my love to little Molshie Darby, fayther, and Barney, not forgettin ould Father Murphy. Shure an' 111 be the grate man, yet.—P. O’R. For remainder of news see last page.