To John Tyndall, Snr   Oct. 19th, 1841.

Kinsale, Oct. 19th, 1841.

My dear Father

A more welcome sight than your last letter¹ did not greet my eyes these six and thirty years!!² My mind was on the rack of anxiety on account of being so long without hearing from you. I was quite certain that all was not right; and being informed that the fever was raging in the vicinity of Leighlin³ added not a little to my disquiet. But all my gloomy anticipations were hushed into oblivion when your well known handwriting met my view. Hurrah! I cried – and a standing leap accompanied the whoop – he is still able to write! I hope you are comfortably situated in your new house⁴ I think the change will be for the better, the other was both too small and too far removed from the thoroughfare. Where has Bill pitched his tent?⁵

The account you gave of Bergan’s affair was quite new to me I did not imagine that you had any thing at all to do with it. You behaved bravely, I must say. You may laugh at me, but youd hardly imagine the long proud stretch I gave my neck after reading the account of the transaction to our fellows. You see a son can plume himself on his father’s courage.

We are still in uncertainty here as to the result of the movements that have recently taken place. We are to get a new officer, but he has not yet been seen. A Captain Rimington⁶ who had charge of a division in Dungarvan has been fixed upon, tho’ some imagine that Lieut Beatty⁷ is to take charge. This latter was stated in the newspapers.⁸ However one thing is certain that we are to remain in Kinsale. I am not sorry for this, as I would not like to be interrupted in my drawing, and, besides that, moving about is expensive.

You may recollect hearing of Foy’s being reduced from the rank of Corporal for disobedience of orders in marrying.⁹ He got a very nice wife, for her he sacrificed his hopes of promotion in the corps, a blight was cast upon the poor fellow’s prospects, and now the being for whom he gave up all is a tenant of the lonely tomb. Mrs Foy died of consumption and Tom had not the poor gratification of closing her eyes or of hearing her last farewell.

I’m beginning to fear that Carlow will hardly ever be the same social place it was when I left it. I see that some of the Leighlin boys¹⁰ have grasped the pen and rung changes on the subject of repeal. Did you see last Saturday’s Sentinel?¹¹ and, if so, did e’er a little rhyme of satire meet your view? I hear that a fellow signing himself as W.S.¹² gave some of the young patriots a dressing.

You have asked me when I’ll go home. It is impossible for me to answer this question situated as I am at present. One thing you may rest assured of, and that is that I’ll go as soon as ever I can. I am, if possible, more anxious to see you all than you are to see me. In a week or two perhaps when everything is settled I will be able to answer that question. You tell me to come home if I am tired of the Survey. I am not at all tired of it. Many a better man is not half so well off as I am on the Survey. I am therefore content with my present lot, and if providence does not think proper to place me in a better situation I shall remain content. Give my love to my mother and Emma.

Your affectionate son, John Tyndall

RI MS JT/1/10/3248

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