I am an ancient of days, without hope or pleasure, save what pleasure comes in thinking of one whom I worship, yet must ever worship from afar.
I wonder why I seem to feel you very near to-day! Perhaps it's because 'tis Christmas Day.

I am not a religious man but Christmas is a day of memories.
Is it because of the past in Ireland?
Am I only--God, am I only to be what I am for the rest of my days, a planter denied the pleasure of home by his own acts! Am I only a helpless fragment of a world of lost things?
I have no friends--but yes, I have.

I have Michael Clones and Captain Ivy, though he's far away-aye, he's a friend of friends, is Captain Ivy.

These naval folk have had so much of the world, have got the bearings of so many seas, that they lose all littleness, and form their own minds.

They are not like the people who knew me in Ireland--the governor here is one of them--and who believe the worst of me.