But Mr. Snowdon's interest was strongly
excited, and in a few moments he had made out the following
communication:
'I don't begin with no deering, because it's a plaid out thing, and
because I'm riting to too people at onse, both mother and Clem, and
it's so long since I've had a pen in my hand I've harf forgot how to
use it. If you think I'm making my pile, you think rong, so you've
got no need to ask me when I'm going to send money home, like you
did in the last letter. I jest keep myself and that's about all,
because things ain't what they used to be in this busted up country.
And that remminds me what it was as I ment to tell you when I cold
get a bit of time to rite. Not so long ago, I met a chap as used to
work for somebody called Snowdon, and from what I can make out it
was Snowdon's brother at home, him as we use to ere so much about.
He'd made his pile, this Snowdon, you bet, and Ned Williams says he
died worth no end of thousands. Not so long before he died, his old
farther from England came out to live with him; then Snowdon and a
son as he had both got drownded going over a river at night. And Ned
says as all the money went to the old bloak and to a brother in
England, and that's what he herd when he was paid off.
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