JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD BLESS YOU ALL.
Thank you Riobard & Joan. I also wish you and Joan a very, very, Merry Christmas & Happy New Year! Jean ----- Original Message ----- From: "Riobard O' Dwyer via" <beara@rootsweb.com> To: "beara@rootsweb.com" <Beara@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, December 13, 2014 10:20 AM Subject: [BEARA] GREETINGS TO ALL. > JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD > FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD > BLESS YOU ALL. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message
Thank you Riobard...Happy Christmas and Happy New Year!!! 2015!!!! To you and Joan and all the Beara lister Sandra M Cummings (Harrington FLOR) -----Original Message----- From: beara-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:beara-bounces@rootsweb.com] On Behalf Of Riobard O' Dwyer via Sent: Saturday, December 13, 2014 10:21 AM To: beara@rootsweb.com Subject: [BEARA] GREETINGS TO ALL. JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD BLESS YOU ALL. ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
Bright Blessings to all this Holiday Season, Julie O'Hanley Fall River, MA, USA On Dec 13, 2014 11:38 AM, "John via" <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > Merry Christmas to all!! > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message >
Dear Riobard, Brightest Blessings to you & Joan for a very Merry Christmas and Happy, Healthy New Year. Julie O'Hanley On Dec 13, 2014 10:25 AM, "Riobard O' Dwyer via" <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD > FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD > BLESS YOU ALL. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message
Merry Christmas to all!!
Thank you Riobard and Joan. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year , happiness and good health to you and Joan. Sent from my iPad > On Dec 13, 2014, at 10:20 AM, Riobard O' Dwyer via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > > JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD > FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD > BLESS YOU ALL. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
And the blessings of this season to you and family, Riobard! How do you say Happy Christmas or Happy Feastday in Irish? May this new year bring good health and much joy to you. Susan - in redwoods country of northern California On Dec 13, 2014, at 7:20 AM, Riobard O' Dwyer via wrote: > JOAN & I WOULD LIKE TO SEND OUR VERY, VERY, VERY BEST WISHES TO OUR GOOD > FRIENDS IN THE BEARA/BEARA-L COLUMN FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND 2015. GOD > BLESS YOU ALL. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message From the... Music Studio of Susan Twomey 89 - 12th Street Arcata, CA 95521 tel. 707-826-0920
Dear Dan Harrington, Would like to inquire as to what townland your Harrington's come from in Beara?? My Harringtons came from Ardgarv, Killmacowen. Thanks, Margaret O'Neill ----- Original Message ----- From: "Dr. Dan Harrington via" <beara@rootsweb.com> To: "Riobard O' Dwyer" <bearariobard@gmail.com>, beara@rootsweb.com Sent: Wednesday, December 10, 2014 5:57:17 PM Subject: Re: [BEARA] Poem:- "The dying mother to her son". Riobard: That is a beautiful poem. SO IRISH. I am back in Butte for three months, getting ready to return to our medical school in St. Lucia in a few weeks. St. Lucia is as green as Ireland, but with less soul. Barbara and I often recall our with you and your wife a number of years ago. It was a highlight of my life to see where the Harringtons and Sullivans came from. I think of you often, of your writings, but mostly of your character, which comes out in all your writings. When you were in Butte, I wasn't able to speak with you, but it was a thrill for many of us in Butte to have you visit. I hope you and your wife are well. Barbara and I are getting ready to sell the medical school. When that takes place, perhaps we'll pay you another visit. All the best, and thank you from all the Butte Irish. Dan Harrington On Wed, Dec 10, 2014 at 3:47 PM, Riobard O' Dwyer via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > On my first visit to Butte, Montana, U.S.A., to help in the film "From > Beara to Butte" which was based on my genealogy research on the emigration > of many, many miners from the Allihies copper mines in Beara to the mines > in Butte in the distant past, I recited this poem "The dying mother to her > son" in an interview on Butte Radio. It was about the emigrations; the > evictions in Beara by the Landlords and their agents; of the father dead, > and his dying widow left at home with her youngest son, Willie. All the > others in the family had emigrated. Before I go on, I want to explain a few > Gaelic/Irish words. "mo bhrone" = pronounced like muh vrown = my sorrow. "A > stor mo chroi" = pronounced like a stowr muh chruheeh = the pet of my > heart. "Mo bhuachaill ban" = my white/lovely child. It went like this:- > (1) > Open the window, Willie, oh, > I'm faint and feeble now. > My heart throbs weak, and the damp, cold, dew is gathering on my brow. > Oh, let me breathe the evening air, and list' to the thrush's song, > and the music of the neighbouring stream as it gently glides along. > (2) > Open the window, Willie, now all is hushed and still; and > the Summer's sun is sinking behind Kilgrogan Hill. > I'd look upon the green fields, > and upon the cloudless sky. > I'd look upon the scene I love, > once more before I die. > (3) > I'd look upon the scene once more > and take my last farewell > of mountain, glen, and woodland glade and lake and grassland dell. > And the sheltered little Churchyard and the Abbey ruins there, > where oft upon your father's grave we knelt in silent prayer. > (4) > And, oh, what visions of the past > sad memory recalls > while gazing on the whitethorn hedge around long roofless walls. > The two old elms stand there still outside the broken gate. > Mo bhron, the tyrant came > that home to desolate. > (5) > They came, the Agent and his men > one dreary winter's morn, > and quenched our hearts forever, > and laughed our cries to scorn. > I strove their hearts to soften, > but, for mercy, prayed in vain. > They drove us o'er the threshold > we were ne'er to cross again. > (6) > Ahy, we were driven from our home where your father's ceaseless toil > had changed the barren mountainside into a generous soil. > One sorrow seldom comes alone; > in one short year he died; > And we were left without a friend > in this whole world wide. > (7) > Yet, when my heart was heavy, > and my eyes, with tears, were dim, > I mumbled, not against God's will, for then I thought of Him, > who, when on earth, did, patiently, > the scorn and scourge endure > which, still, the rich and powerful inflict upon the poor. > (8) > Your brothers and your sisters all, they went beyond the sea. > But you, the last, my baby, > still lingered here with me; > and shared my bitter sorrow, > when, fled had ev'ry joy, > and, now, I'm leaving you, a stor, > a lonely orphan boy. > (9) > Don't cry, a stor mo chroi, don't cry --- sure, God's good will be done. > I'm leaving you, mo bhuachail ban, here, friendless and alone, > 'mongst strangers, unprotected, > but, my son, there' One above, > Whose love is more endearing > even than a mother's love. > (10) > May that Father of the fatherless stretch His protecting arm > to guide you on life's weary way, > and shield you from all harm. > And, may the Virgin Mother > take you, darling, in her care, > and look with pity on you, > is your dying mother's prayer. > > RIOBARD. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
That is a sad but beautiful poem, Riobard. It brought tears to my eyes, as it was fact for many of our ancestors. Leesa in Oregon ----- Original Message ----- From: "Riobard O' Dwyer via" <beara@rootsweb.com> To: "beara@rootsweb.com" <Beara@rootsweb.com> Sent: Wednesday, December 10, 2014 2:47:04 PM Subject: [BEARA] Poem:- "The dying mother to her son". On my first visit to Butte, Montana, U.S.A., to help in the film "From Beara to Butte" which was based on my genealogy research on the emigration of many, many miners from the Allihies copper mines in Beara to the mines in Butte in the distant past, I recited this poem "The dying mother to her son" in an interview on Butte Radio. It was about the emigrations; the evictions in Beara by the Landlords and their agents; of the father dead, and his dying widow left at home with her youngest son, Willie. All the others in the family had emigrated. Before I go on, I want to explain a few Gaelic/Irish words. "mo bhrone" = pronounced like muh vrown = my sorrow. "A stor mo chroi" = pronounced like a stowr muh chruheeh = the pet of my heart. "Mo bhuachaill ban" = my white/lovely child. It went like this:- (1) Open the window, Willie, oh, I'm faint and feeble now. My heart throbs weak, and the damp, cold, dew is gathering on my brow. Oh, let me breathe the evening air, and list' to the thrush's song, and the music of the neighbouring stream as it gently glides along. (2) Open the window, Willie, now all is hushed and still; and the Summer's sun is sinking behind Kilgrogan Hill. I'd look upon the green fields, and upon the cloudless sky. I'd look upon the scene I love, once more before I die. (3) I'd look upon the scene once more and take my last farewell of mountain, glen, and woodland glade and lake and grassland dell. And the sheltered little Churchyard and the Abbey ruins there, where oft upon your father's grave we knelt in silent prayer. (4) And, oh, what visions of the past sad memory recalls while gazing on the whitethorn hedge around long roofless walls. The two old elms stand there still outside the broken gate. Mo bhron, the tyrant came that home to desolate. (5) They came, the Agent and his men one dreary winter's morn, and quenched our hearts forever, and laughed our cries to scorn. I strove their hearts to soften, but, for mercy, prayed in vain. They drove us o'er the threshold we were ne'er to cross again. (6) Ahy, we were driven from our home where your father's ceaseless toil had changed the barren mountainside into a generous soil. One sorrow seldom comes alone; in one short year he died; And we were left without a friend in this whole world wide. (7) Yet, when my heart was heavy, and my eyes, with tears, were dim, I mumbled, not against God's will, for then I thought of Him, who, when on earth, did, patiently, the scorn and scourge endure which, still, the rich and powerful inflict upon the poor. (8) Your brothers and your sisters all, they went beyond the sea. But you, the last, my baby, still lingered here with me; and shared my bitter sorrow, when, fled had ev'ry joy, and, now, I'm leaving you, a stor, a lonely orphan boy. (9) Don't cry, a stor mo chroi, don't cry --- sure, God's good will be done. I'm leaving you, mo bhuachail ban, here, friendless and alone, 'mongst strangers, unprotected, but, my son, there' One above, Whose love is more endearing even than a mother's love. (10) May that Father of the fatherless stretch His protecting arm to guide you on life's weary way, and shield you from all harm. And, may the Virgin Mother take you, darling, in her care, and look with pity on you, is your dying mother's prayer. RIOBARD. ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
On my first visit to Butte, Montana, U.S.A., to help in the film "From Beara to Butte" which was based on my genealogy research on the emigration of many, many miners from the Allihies copper mines in Beara to the mines in Butte in the distant past, I recited this poem "The dying mother to her son" in an interview on Butte Radio. It was about the emigrations; the evictions in Beara by the Landlords and their agents; of the father dead, and his dying widow left at home with her youngest son, Willie. All the others in the family had emigrated. Before I go on, I want to explain a few Gaelic/Irish words. "mo bhrone" = pronounced like muh vrown = my sorrow. "A stor mo chroi" = pronounced like a stowr muh chruheeh = the pet of my heart. "Mo bhuachaill ban" = my white/lovely child. It went like this:- (1) Open the window, Willie, oh, I'm faint and feeble now. My heart throbs weak, and the damp, cold, dew is gathering on my brow. Oh, let me breathe the evening air, and list' to the thrush's song, and the music of the neighbouring stream as it gently glides along. (2) Open the window, Willie, now all is hushed and still; and the Summer's sun is sinking behind Kilgrogan Hill. I'd look upon the green fields, and upon the cloudless sky. I'd look upon the scene I love, once more before I die. (3) I'd look upon the scene once more and take my last farewell of mountain, glen, and woodland glade and lake and grassland dell. And the sheltered little Churchyard and the Abbey ruins there, where oft upon your father's grave we knelt in silent prayer. (4) And, oh, what visions of the past sad memory recalls while gazing on the whitethorn hedge around long roofless walls. The two old elms stand there still outside the broken gate. Mo bhron, the tyrant came that home to desolate. (5) They came, the Agent and his men one dreary winter's morn, and quenched our hearts forever, and laughed our cries to scorn. I strove their hearts to soften, but, for mercy, prayed in vain. They drove us o'er the threshold we were ne'er to cross again. (6) Ahy, we were driven from our home where your father's ceaseless toil had changed the barren mountainside into a generous soil. One sorrow seldom comes alone; in one short year he died; And we were left without a friend in this whole world wide. (7) Yet, when my heart was heavy, and my eyes, with tears, were dim, I mumbled, not against God's will, for then I thought of Him, who, when on earth, did, patiently, the scorn and scourge endure which, still, the rich and powerful inflict upon the poor. (8) Your brothers and your sisters all, they went beyond the sea. But you, the last, my baby, still lingered here with me; and shared my bitter sorrow, when, fled had ev'ry joy, and, now, I'm leaving you, a stor, a lonely orphan boy. (9) Don't cry, a stor mo chroi, don't cry --- sure, God's good will be done. I'm leaving you, mo bhuachail ban, here, friendless and alone, 'mongst strangers, unprotected, but, my son, there' One above, Whose love is more endearing even than a mother's love. (10) May that Father of the fatherless stretch His protecting arm to guide you on life's weary way, and shield you from all harm. And, may the Virgin Mother take you, darling, in her care, and look with pity on you, is your dying mother's prayer. RIOBARD.
...so sad and beautiful...thanks for sharing. Your translation from the Irish reminds me of a song I sang as a child at all the family gatherings when we would sit around and sing the old Irish songs ...Mother Machree. I always just assumed that was her name, but now I am guessing that the meaning of the song is "mother of my heart"? I never made the connection before today...mo chroi" = pronounced like a muh chruheeh = of my heart. Thank you, Riobard! Susan Twomey from California (child of Harrington, Holland /O'Houlihan, Hampston, Sullivan...from Beara) ................................ Mother Machree There's a spot in my heart which no colleen may own there's a depth in my soul never sounded or known There's a place in my mem'ry my heart that you fill no other can take it no one ever will CHORUS Oh I love the dear silver that shines in your hair and the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care I kiss the dear fingers so toil worn for me Oh God bless you and keep you Mother Machree Every sorrow or cure in the dear days gone by was made bright by the light by the smile in your eye like a candle the burns in the window at night you fond love has cheered my and guided me right CHORUS (Lyrics by Rida Johnson Young, Music by Chauncey Olcott and Ernest R. Ball,1910) On Dec 10, 2014, at 2:47 PM, Riobard O' Dwyer via wrote: > On my first visit to Butte, Montana, U.S.A., to help in the film "From > Beara to Butte" which was based on my genealogy research on the emigration > of many, many miners from the Allihies copper mines in Beara to the mines > in Butte in the distant past, I recited this poem "The dying mother to her > son" in an interview on Butte Radio. It was about the emigrations; the > evictions in Beara by the Landlords and their agents; of the father dead, > and his dying widow left at home with her youngest son, Willie. All the > others in the family had emigrated. Before I go on, I want to explain a few > Gaelic/Irish words. "mo bhrone" = pronounced like muh vrown = my sorrow. "A > stor mo chroi" = pronounced like a stowr muh chruheeh = the pet of my > heart. "Mo bhuachaill ban" = my white/lovely child. It went like this:- > (1) > Open the window, Willie, oh, > I'm faint and feeble now. > My heart throbs weak, and the damp, cold, dew is gathering on my brow. > Oh, let me breathe the evening air, and list' to the thrush's song, > and the music of the neighbouring stream as it gently glides along. > (2) > Open the window, Willie, now all is hushed and still; and > the Summer's sun is sinking behind Kilgrogan Hill. > I'd look upon the green fields, > and upon the cloudless sky. > I'd look upon the scene I love, > once more before I die. > (3) > I'd look upon the scene once more > and take my last farewell > of mountain, glen, and woodland glade and lake and grassland dell. > And the sheltered little Churchyard and the Abbey ruins there, > where oft upon your father's grave we knelt in silent prayer. > (4) > And, oh, what visions of the past > sad memory recalls > while gazing on the whitethorn hedge around long roofless walls. > The two old elms stand there still outside the broken gate. > Mo bhron, the tyrant came > that home to desolate. > (5) > They came, the Agent and his men > one dreary winter's morn, > and quenched our hearts forever, > and laughed our cries to scorn. > I strove their hearts to soften, > but, for mercy, prayed in vain. > They drove us o'er the threshold > we were ne'er to cross again. > (6) > Ahy, we were driven from our home where your father's ceaseless toil > had changed the barren mountainside into a generous soil. > One sorrow seldom comes alone; > in one short year he died; > And we were left without a friend > in this whole world wide. > (7) > Yet, when my heart was heavy, > and my eyes, with tears, were dim, > I mumbled, not against God's will, for then I thought of Him, > who, when on earth, did, patiently, > the scorn and scourge endure > which, still, the rich and powerful inflict upon the poor. > (8) > Your brothers and your sisters all, they went beyond the sea. > But you, the last, my baby, > still lingered here with me; > and shared my bitter sorrow, > when, fled had ev'ry joy, > and, now, I'm leaving you, a stor, > a lonely orphan boy. > (9) > Don't cry, a stor mo chroi, don't cry --- sure, God's good will be done. > I'm leaving you, mo bhuachail ban, here, friendless and alone, > 'mongst strangers, unprotected, > but, my son, there' One above, > Whose love is more endearing > even than a mother's love. > (10) > May that Father of the fatherless stretch His protecting arm > to guide you on life's weary way, > and shield you from all harm. > And, may the Virgin Mother > take you, darling, in her care, > and look with pity on you, > is your dying mother's prayer. > > RIOBARD. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message From the... Music Studio of Susan Twomey 89 - 12th Street Arcata, CA 95521 tel. 707-826-0920
Riobard: That is a beautiful poem. SO IRISH. I am back in Butte for three months, getting ready to return to our medical school in St. Lucia in a few weeks. St. Lucia is as green as Ireland, but with less soul. Barbara and I often recall our with you and your wife a number of years ago. It was a highlight of my life to see where the Harringtons and Sullivans came from. I think of you often, of your writings, but mostly of your character, which comes out in all your writings. When you were in Butte, I wasn't able to speak with you, but it was a thrill for many of us in Butte to have you visit. I hope you and your wife are well. Barbara and I are getting ready to sell the medical school. When that takes place, perhaps we'll pay you another visit. All the best, and thank you from all the Butte Irish. Dan Harrington On Wed, Dec 10, 2014 at 3:47 PM, Riobard O' Dwyer via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > On my first visit to Butte, Montana, U.S.A., to help in the film "From > Beara to Butte" which was based on my genealogy research on the emigration > of many, many miners from the Allihies copper mines in Beara to the mines > in Butte in the distant past, I recited this poem "The dying mother to her > son" in an interview on Butte Radio. It was about the emigrations; the > evictions in Beara by the Landlords and their agents; of the father dead, > and his dying widow left at home with her youngest son, Willie. All the > others in the family had emigrated. Before I go on, I want to explain a few > Gaelic/Irish words. "mo bhrone" = pronounced like muh vrown = my sorrow. "A > stor mo chroi" = pronounced like a stowr muh chruheeh = the pet of my > heart. "Mo bhuachaill ban" = my white/lovely child. It went like this:- > (1) > Open the window, Willie, oh, > I'm faint and feeble now. > My heart throbs weak, and the damp, cold, dew is gathering on my brow. > Oh, let me breathe the evening air, and list' to the thrush's song, > and the music of the neighbouring stream as it gently glides along. > (2) > Open the window, Willie, now all is hushed and still; and > the Summer's sun is sinking behind Kilgrogan Hill. > I'd look upon the green fields, > and upon the cloudless sky. > I'd look upon the scene I love, > once more before I die. > (3) > I'd look upon the scene once more > and take my last farewell > of mountain, glen, and woodland glade and lake and grassland dell. > And the sheltered little Churchyard and the Abbey ruins there, > where oft upon your father's grave we knelt in silent prayer. > (4) > And, oh, what visions of the past > sad memory recalls > while gazing on the whitethorn hedge around long roofless walls. > The two old elms stand there still outside the broken gate. > Mo bhron, the tyrant came > that home to desolate. > (5) > They came, the Agent and his men > one dreary winter's morn, > and quenched our hearts forever, > and laughed our cries to scorn. > I strove their hearts to soften, > but, for mercy, prayed in vain. > They drove us o'er the threshold > we were ne'er to cross again. > (6) > Ahy, we were driven from our home where your father's ceaseless toil > had changed the barren mountainside into a generous soil. > One sorrow seldom comes alone; > in one short year he died; > And we were left without a friend > in this whole world wide. > (7) > Yet, when my heart was heavy, > and my eyes, with tears, were dim, > I mumbled, not against God's will, for then I thought of Him, > who, when on earth, did, patiently, > the scorn and scourge endure > which, still, the rich and powerful inflict upon the poor. > (8) > Your brothers and your sisters all, they went beyond the sea. > But you, the last, my baby, > still lingered here with me; > and shared my bitter sorrow, > when, fled had ev'ry joy, > and, now, I'm leaving you, a stor, > a lonely orphan boy. > (9) > Don't cry, a stor mo chroi, don't cry --- sure, God's good will be done. > I'm leaving you, mo bhuachail ban, here, friendless and alone, > 'mongst strangers, unprotected, > but, my son, there' One above, > Whose love is more endearing > even than a mother's love. > (10) > May that Father of the fatherless stretch His protecting arm > to guide you on life's weary way, > and shield you from all harm. > And, may the Virgin Mother > take you, darling, in her care, > and look with pity on you, > is your dying mother's prayer. > > RIOBARD. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message
The Harrington farm in Drombohilly is said to be the largest farm in County Kerry. Don 't have any idea if they would be interested, but it never hurts to ask! Someone on the list must know how to get in touch with them. Ruth Bortolan , descendant of Thomas Harrington, Drombohilly from Connecticut, USA. Good luck! Sent from my iPad > On Dec 4, 2014, at 8:28 AM, Bill Gawne via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > > Dear friends of Beara, > > > > My cousin Annie, in California, asks: > > > > "My daughter's friend, a lovely girl, is going to study abroad in Ireland > and she needs to be on a working farm. Does any of the Irish crowd have any > place in mind?" > > > > If anyone reading this knows of a working farm that would be interested in > hosting her, please let me know and I'll get the word to her. > > > > Thanks, > > > > Bill Gawne > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
Dear friends of Beara, My cousin Annie, in California, asks: "My daughter's friend, a lovely girl, is going to study abroad in Ireland and she needs to be on a working farm. Does any of the Irish crowd have any place in mind?" If anyone reading this knows of a working farm that would be interested in hosting her, please let me know and I'll get the word to her. Thanks, Bill Gawne
Great news. Sent from my iPad > On 1 Dec 2014, at 16:44, Riobard O' Dwyer via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > > Fantastic news. Bill, how would I go about getting all the Beara Peninsula > ones ? You see, I have sent my Records to Boston, so now I'm like the cat > without his breakfast. Riobard. > > On 1 December 2014 at 15:01, Bill Gawne via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > >>> From today's Irish Genealogy News: >> >> >> >> Monday, 1 December 2014 >> >> It's happening! Ireland's Roman Catholic registers to go online >> >> John Grenham has announced the news every Irish genealogist has been >> longing >> - dreaming - of hearing for years: the National Library of Ireland is to >> publish its collection of pre-1880 Roman Catholic Registers online. >> >> >> >> For more, see >> >> http://www.irishgenealogynews.com/2014/12/its-happening-irelands-roman-catho >> lic.html >> >> >> >> Bill Gawne >> >> >> ------------------------------- >> To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to >> BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes >> in the subject and the body of the message > > > > -- > Riobard (O'Dwyer) > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
I hope this helps everyone. I found this list of RC Parish Registers in the National Library Ireland. The main source for genealogical research in the Library is Roman Catholic Parish Registers. The Library holds microfilm copies of the records of most Roman Catholic parishes in Ireland for the years up to 1880 and in some cases to 1900. For further information on these registers, please read our Family History information leaflet entitled Parish Registers in the National Library of Ireland which can be downloaded here: - Family History - Parish Registers NLI_FamilyHistory_ParishRegisters.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=0f34d392-6432-4272-98f0-5fcd99865eda> (1.10 MB, Adobe PDF) The Library has produced a list of the parish registers and their microfilm call numbers. Parishes are listed alphabetically by diocese along with the dates of the registers in each parish. To assist your research when you visit the Library, we have made the parish register list, divided into four parts, available for download: - Parish Register List : Achonry - Cloyne NLI_ParishRegisters_Achonry_Cloyne.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=7b58a068-ac21-4bd1-a2d9-244ff778a041> (1.12 MB, Adobe PDF) - Parish Register List : Cork - Dublin NLI_ParishRegisters_CorkRoss_Dublin.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=6f2c8113-db60-4723-95c1-7c7417247973> (1.02 MB, Adobe PDF) - Parish Register List : Elphin - Killaloe NLI_ParishRegisters_Elphin_Killaloe.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=da336de9-d90b-4d71-af14-8aa7de999a39> (1.18 MB, Adobe PDF) - Parish Register List : Kilmore -Waterford NLI_ParishRegisters_Kilmore_Waterford.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=af8921f3-d26c-4492-b1f0-5a59bb4c0d5e> - Parish Register List : Kilmore -Waterford NLI_ParishRegisters_Kilmore_Waterford.pdf <http://www.nli.ie/GetAttachment.aspx?id=af8921f3-d26c-4492-b1f0-5a59bb4c0d5e> - (1.36 MB, Adobe PDF) Slán, Marge in Southern California Searching: Golden, Sullivan, Kelly, Shea, in Kerry and Connecticut O'Connor in Kerry Fee, Cassidy, Gilbride in Fermanagh, Cavan, Kildare and Connecticut Lynch in Limerick and Connecticut Walsh, Stackpole, Garry/Garrey/McGarrey, Donovan, Doyle, Clowney/Clooney, King in Kildare
Fantastic news. Bill, how would I go about getting all the Beara Peninsula ones ? You see, I have sent my Records to Boston, so now I'm like the cat without his breakfast. Riobard. On 1 December 2014 at 15:01, Bill Gawne via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: > >From today's Irish Genealogy News: > > > > Monday, 1 December 2014 > > It's happening! Ireland's Roman Catholic registers to go online > > John Grenham has announced the news every Irish genealogist has been > longing > - dreaming - of hearing for years: the National Library of Ireland is to > publish its collection of pre-1880 Roman Catholic Registers online. > > > > For more, see > > http://www.irishgenealogynews.com/2014/12/its-happening-irelands-roman-catho > lic.html > > > > Bill Gawne > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message > -- Riobard (O'Dwyer)
Thanks for this great news, BIll! Jane Sullivan On Monday, December 1, 2014 7:10 AM, Bill Gawne via <beara@rootsweb.com> wrote: >From today's Irish Genealogy News: Monday, 1 December 2014 It's happening! Ireland's Roman Catholic registers to go online John Grenham has announced the news every Irish genealogist has been longing - dreaming - of hearing for years: the National Library of Ireland is to publish its collection of pre-1880 Roman Catholic Registers online. For more, see http://www.irishgenealogynews.com/2014/12/its-happening-irelands-roman-catho lic.html Bill Gawne ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to BEARA-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message
>From today's Irish Genealogy News: Monday, 1 December 2014 It's happening! Ireland's Roman Catholic registers to go online John Grenham has announced the news every Irish genealogist has been longing - dreaming - of hearing for years: the National Library of Ireland is to publish its collection of pre-1880 Roman Catholic Registers online. For more, see http://www.irishgenealogynews.com/2014/12/its-happening-irelands-roman-catho lic.html Bill Gawne