Hello to Everyone! I am certain I will be very glad to know you.
Hallo again, I say!
My name's Harbert Brown. I'm eighteen years old, and presently stuck abed recovering from a bullet wound and fever. It's terribly unfair, really, but I know I'll have to be patient. I'll be well enough again in a month or so. Although it is presently summer out there, and I do so wish to be out looking at all the plants and animals and - Ahem. I will not complain. I'm alive, I must not complain.
In the meantime, I'm quite surprised and delighted to have found this. Is anyone here living in the year 1867? If you are, I would be most thankful if you could inform someone that Mr. Cyrus Smith of the Union Army, Mr. Gideon Spilett of The New York Herald, and Mr. Pencroff are stranded on an island located at roughly thirty-seven degrees south latitude and roughly 152 degrees west longitude. Also Neb and myself (and Joop and Top), but I'm not quite sure how one would speak formally of us, so you can leave us out.
But if no one is and no one can, that is quite all right, too! We're fine, I think, although we do seem to have an infestation of pirates and are all very sad that our friend Ayrton is most likely dead. And also there's something very strange going on, although no one will tell me much about it - they're afraid I'll get overexcited and strain my heart. It is all very understandable, since I did nearly die, but I wish they wouldn't be quite so protective. I'm almost grown!
That aside, I do look forward greatly to meeting everyone. People are so very interesting!
Edit: Oh, yes. I was told to say that it might be best to ignore certain 'temporal issues', as Mr. Verne seems to have paid them no mind and 'we shall all be most confused if we do'. I'm not sure what that means, but there it is.
My name's Harbert Brown. I'm eighteen years old, and presently stuck abed recovering from a bullet wound and fever. It's terribly unfair, really, but I know I'll have to be patient. I'll be well enough again in a month or so. Although it is presently summer out there, and I do so wish to be out looking at all the plants and animals and - Ahem. I will not complain. I'm alive, I must not complain.
In the meantime, I'm quite surprised and delighted to have found this. Is anyone here living in the year 1867? If you are, I would be most thankful if you could inform someone that Mr. Cyrus Smith of the Union Army, Mr. Gideon Spilett of The New York Herald, and Mr. Pencroff are stranded on an island located at roughly thirty-seven degrees south latitude and roughly 152 degrees west longitude. Also Neb and myself (and Joop and Top), but I'm not quite sure how one would speak formally of us, so you can leave us out.
But if no one is and no one can, that is quite all right, too! We're fine, I think, although we do seem to have an infestation of pirates and are all very sad that our friend Ayrton is most likely dead. And also there's something very strange going on, although no one will tell me much about it - they're afraid I'll get overexcited and strain my heart. It is all very understandable, since I did nearly die, but I wish they wouldn't be quite so protective. I'm almost grown!
That aside, I do look forward greatly to meeting everyone. People are so very interesting!
Edit: Oh, yes. I was told to say that it might be best to ignore certain 'temporal issues', as Mr. Verne seems to have paid them no mind and 'we shall all be most confused if we do'. I'm not sure what that means, but there it is.