something of FitzGerald's attitude by now) realises this he will be able
to appreciate the long-suffering generosity of this cultured scholar whom
fools have painted as a mere eccentric hermit. Posh, now that he was
well started by the aid of his governor, began to yearn for independence.
Possibly he had some reason to complain that his sleeping partner
interfered in matters of which he was ignorant. On September 21st, 1869,
FitzGerald wrote to Mr. Spalding (_Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 118):--

"Posh came up with his Lugger last Friday, with a lot of torn nets,
and went off again on Sunday. I thought he was wrong to come up, and
not to transmit his nets by Rail, as is often done at 6d. a net. But
I did not say so to him--it is no unamiable point in him to love
_home_: but I think he won't make a fortune by it. However, I may be
very wrong in thinking he had better _not_ have come. He has made
about the average fishing, I believe: about 250 pounds. Some boats
have 600 pounds, I hear; and some few not enough to pay their way.

"He came up with a very bad cold and hoarseness; and so went off, poor
fellow: he never will be long well, I do think."

Probably Posh knew all about the best way of making a profit out of
herring drifters, and FitzGerald may have been wrong in fearing that he
did not. FitzGerald, with his superb culture, may not (I do not say he
did not) have understood that Posh, on his native North Sea, may have
been more than a match for all the culture in the world. For what I know
of the old longshoreman, I am convinced that if he brought his nets home
in his lugger he did so because he thought it was the most profitable way
of bringing them back. But FitzGerald grew anxious, and his anxiety was
not understood by the natural child of the beach, and caused friction and
mutual irritation.

But this did not break out till the north voyage was over and the _Meum
and Tuum_ had been on the home fishing for more than a month. Then Posh
began to have the fingering of a good deal of money, and FitzGerald had
already had reason to doubt his abilities to keep his credit and debit
sides of account in proper order. Moreover, the usual autumn gales had
been bringing the stormy and dark nights which are as profitable as they
are dangerous to the drifters. On Monday, November 1st, 1869 (one of the
few letters of FitzGerald's which I have seen completely dated), the
sleeping partner