Thanks for the poem My line is from the Wingfields Regrds Mary

I have taken the round trip boat from both Doolin in Co. Clare and from Rossaveel in County Galway. I believe there is also one that leaves from Galway town. The boats leaving Doolin can be a bit rough near the Doolin dock but then settle down. They tend to be smaller and older than the Rossaveel boats. The rocking didn't bother me but some did get seasick on the boat going to the Island that I took in August. I have only gone to the larger island, Inishmore and I do believe they have b&bs there for staying overnight. I think if you check online you can find out more. -- Pat Connors, Sacramento CA http://www.connorsgenealogy.com

Hi Mary - (Love it when somebody responds to my posts with more information!!!) So your line is from the WINGFIELDs. I understand that the mansion's interior is partially restored after a 1974 fire, and there are meticulously kept aristocratic gardens - Ireland's best! The house was commissioned in the 1730s by Richard WINGFIELD, first viscount of Powerscourt, as you are no doubt aware. Per a recent guide book - The gardens were created during the Victorian era (1858-75), and are called "the grand finale of Europe's formal gardening tradition ... probably the last garden of its size." As a backdrop is the impressive summit of the Great Sugar Loaf Mountain, and there is a fine Japanese garden, Italian garden and what has been called a "goofy" pet cemetery - what would that be like??? Apparently there was a movie, "Barry Lyndon" filmed in this green, well-watered aristocratic area of Wicklow. The Gardens of Powerscourt, a mile above the village of Enniskerry, cover several thousand acres within the 16,000 acre estate and the "dreamy driveway" alone is a mile long. There is a nearby waterfall four miles away. Thanks for your comment. (The correct title of CLEARY's beautiful poem is "A Trip to Powerscourt." - my subject line was off.) Jean xx ----- Original Message ----- From: "Doug Connell" <doug.connell@sympatico.ca> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, November 12, 2005 12:11 PM Subject: [IRELAND] RE: VISIT TO POWERSCOURT. > Thanks for the poem My line is from the Wingfields > Regrds > Mary

I don't have anything except a hint that this is the right County. The only other thing I have is that my Fielding family were W. Methodists. Trudy -----Original Message----- From: Mary Ellen Chambers [mailto:maryln61@sbcglobal.net] Sent: Saturday, November 12, 2005 9:12 AM To: IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com Subject: Re: [IRELAND] County Carlow & Wexford Trudy~ In Wexford, what are the particulars for your ancestors (i.e. parish, barony, townland/village, poor union, etc.) As you may or maynot know the timeline you are researching will be with sacramental records, not Civil. The records are few and far between. Also this is at a time immediatly after the bloodbath of the "98 Rebellion in Wexford. CMCRP has donated records for Wexford (we did 5000 for parish of Rathangan). The website is www.cmcrp.net Mary Ellen Chambers Lakewood, OH Trudy Fielding <trcharly@sbcglobal.net> wrote: Where can I find records for these Counties Carlow & Wexford for the around 1800-1819?? Trudy Fielding ==== IRELAND Mailing List ==== Ireland Mailing List website..surname registry, links, lookup volunteers,unsubscribe, change your subscription from L to D or D to L http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrelandList/ ==== IRELAND Mailing List ==== Ireland Mailing List website..surname registry, links, lookup volunteers,unsubscribe, change your subscription from L to D or D to L http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrelandList/

Thank You Edna!! Thanks in advance to anyone else with comments. Kansas - I have Quaker Simmons/Cox relatives from Rose Hill (Butler Co.), KS. J. xx ----- Original Message ----- From: "Edna Burns" <irishgrammy@sbcglobal.net> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, November 12, 2005 12:34 PM Subject: [IRELAND] Aran Islands > Jean: We took the ferry from Galway to the largest of the Aran Islands in April of '04. The ferry ride was smooth, <snip>

Jean: We took the ferry from Galway to the largest of the Aran Islands in April of '04. The ferry ride was smooth, we took a tour of the island on a bus, had stops where we could walk up to a round tower, and other stops to visit shops, a cemetery, cafes/pubs. All in all a very nice, full day. There were many small buses waiting to load up with tourists, and we got a great driver. He gave us lots of information on the island(s). It was great! We got our tickets from the host at our B & B, and he gave us very good directions to get to the pier. Edna in Kansas

QUERY: Has anyone had experience with the round-trip ferries or Aer Arann flights to Aran Island? Overnight accommodations on the island? Planning trip to Ireland summer 2006 and hope to visit this (or another) island with ambience, heard travellers love the uniqueness of the islands, but worry about rough seas/sea-sickness getting there and back. Apparently there are also islands connected to the mainland with land bridges? Thank you for any input. Jean

QUERY: Has anyone taken the ferry across the Irish Sea, or Aer Lingus or Ryanair flights from Dublin to Liverpool's John Lennon airport and back? If so, what were your experiences? Did you have problems with seasickness rough sea?) and length of crossing, flight cancellations, transportation to/from airports, finding decent accommodations? Hope to visit Liverpool (where dad was born in 1903) on my summer 2006 trip to Ireland. Since likely a two-day stay in Liverpool, will probably get around by bus or taxi. Will likely save seeing rest of England for another trip. Thank you! Jean

SHE WALKED UNAWARE O, she walked unaware of her own increasing beauty That was holding men's thoughts from market to plough, As she passed by, intent on her womanly duties And she without leisure to be wayward or proud; Or if she had pride then it was not in her thinking But thoughtless in her body like a flower of good breeding. The first time I saw her spreading coloured linen Beyond the green willow she gave me gentle greeting With no more intention than the leaning willow tree. Though she smiled without intention yet from that day forward Her beauty filled like water the four corners of my being. And she rested in my heart like a hare in the form That is shaped to herself. And I that would be singing Or whistling at all time went silently then; 'Till I drew her aside among straight stems of beeches When the blackbird was sleeping and she promised that never The fields would be ripe but I'd gather all sweetness, A red moon of August would rise on our wedding. October is spreading bright flame along stripped willows, Low fires of the dogwood burn down to grey water -- God pity me now and all desolate sinners Demented with beauty! I have blackened my thought In drouths of bad longing, and all brightness goes shrouded Since he came with his rapture of wild words that mirrored Her beauty and made her ungentle and proud. To-night she will spread her brown hair on his pillow, But I shall be hearing the harsh cries of wild fowl. -- Patrick MacDONOGH (1902- ).

WHAT WE LOST It is a winter afternoon. The hills are frozen. Light is failing. The distance is a crystal earshot. A women is mending linen in her kitchen. She is a countrywoman. Behind her cupboard doors she hangs sprigged, stove-dried lavender in muslin. Her letters and mementos and memories are packeted in satin at the back with gaberdine and worsted and the cambric she has made into bodices; the good tobacco silk for Sunday Mass. She is sewing in the kitchen. The sugar-feel of flax is in her hands. Dusk. And the candles brought in then. One by one. And the quiet sweat of wax. There is a child by her side. The tea is poured, the stitching put down. The child grows still, sensing something of importance. The woman settles and begins her story. Believe it, what we lost is here in this room on this veiled evening. The woman finishes. The story ends. The child, who is my mother, gets up, moves away. In the winter air, unheard, unshared, the moment happens, hangs fire, leads nowhere. The light will fail and the room darken, the child fall asleep and the story be forgotten. The fields are dark already. The frail connections have been made and are broken. The dumb-show of legend has become language, is becoming silence and who will know that once words were possibilities and disappointments, were scented closets filled with love letters and memories and lavender hemmed into muslin, stored in sachets, aired in bed linen; and traveled silks and the tones of cotton tautened into bodices, subtly shaped by breathing; were the rooms of childhood with their griefless peace, their hands and whispers, their candles weeping brightly? -- Ms. Eavan BOLAND

Trudy~ In Wexford, what are the particulars for your ancestors (i.e. parish, barony, townland/village, poor union, etc.) As you may or maynot know the timeline you are researching will be with sacramental records, not Civil. The records are few and far between. Also this is at a time immediatly after the bloodbath of the "98 Rebellion in Wexford. CMCRP has donated records for Wexford (we did 5000 for parish of Rathangan). The website is www.cmcrp.net Mary Ellen Chambers Lakewood, OH Trudy Fielding <trcharly@sbcglobal.net> wrote: Where can I find records for these Counties Carlow & Wexford for the around 1800-1819?? Trudy Fielding ==== IRELAND Mailing List ==== Ireland Mailing List website..surname registry, links, lookup volunteers,unsubscribe, change your subscription from L to D or D to L http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrelandList/

Dear Cathy, No need to apoligize. l really appreciate the time you take to post all the wonderful history. You are doing a great job! One of my Grandfather Dowdall's favorite songs was the Manchester Martyrs. Go raibh maith agat, Margaret (Máiread) ----- Original Message ----- From: Cathy Joynt Labath To: IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com Sent: Friday, November 11, 2005 3:07 PM Subject: [IRELAND] Sorry for repeats !! I apologize for sending duplicates of some parts of the news article "Manchester Tragedy". It just took several hours for parts of the articles to come through the list (at least to my mailbox) and I got impatient and resent the ones I didn't happen to see right away. I also broke up the original part 3 since I thought it might be too large to make it to the list. Again, sorry for the dups. I didn't mean to clog up any mailboxes. Cathy

Not to worry, Joyce Lindsey ----- Original Message ----- From: "Cathy Joynt Labath" <labaths@worldnet.att.net> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Friday, November 11, 2005 5:07 PM Subject: [IRELAND] Sorry for repeats !! >I apologize for sending duplicates of some parts of the news article > "Manchester > Tragedy". It just took several hours for parts of the articles to come > through the list (at least to my mailbox) and I got impatient and resent > the > ones I didn't happen to > see right away. I also broke up the original part 3 since I thought it > might > be too large to make it to the list. > > Again, sorry for the dups. I didn't mean to clog up any mailboxes. > > Cathy > > > > > ==== IRELAND Mailing List ==== > Ireland Mailing List website..surname registry, links, lookup > volunteers,unsubscribe, change your subscription from L to D or D to L > http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrelandList/ >

I apologize for sending duplicates of some parts of the news article "Manchester Tragedy". It just took several hours for parts of the articles to come through the list (at least to my mailbox) and I got impatient and resent the ones I didn't happen to see right away. I also broke up the original part 3 since I thought it might be too large to make it to the list. Again, sorry for the dups. I didn't mean to clog up any mailboxes. Cathy

Where can I find records for these Counties Carlow & Wexford for the around 1800-1819?? Trudy Fielding

I might have found the counties where my Fielding family may have come from: Carlow or Wexford. I found a Fielding with 2 family members listed as settlers in November 1817 to go to Canada. I also found some Freeholder list for Drumgose. The web site is http://proni.gov.uk/freeholders. I have also maybe found the ship. But I haven't been able to locate the ships passenger list. I'm looking for the Brig Victoria leaving Belfast arriving in Quebec July 17, 1819. Can any one tell what to do next? Trudy

Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 NIGHT - THE STREETS About ten o'clock large crowds began to gather in the streets immediately in the neighbourhood of the scaffold, but the outer barrier arrested all further progress, and then these Englishmen sat down. The peculiar characteristic of the nation was fully displayed by the lively disputes concerning the purchase of hot potatoes which were being cooked in enormous quantities by machines resembling fire-engines. Around these were squatted those chattering, swearing, obscene; but eating assemblages to be found nowhere but in England. Wrangles and jokes were settled and laughed at, and politics and Fenianism warmly and energetically discussed. Cans of beer and lumps of cheese; hot potatoes and squares of bacon; steaming pies and odorous onions- hodge-podges of marvellous and heterogeneous confusion were discussed and consumed with a gusto that only the eve of an execution can bring to the enlightened Englishman. Females sat in these gatherings, and joined in these disgusting festivals as confidently as if that were the scene for woman. Young lads and girls sported in high glee in front of the glaring gas jet that told of the beer-cellar and youthful lips rang out the ready oath that spoke the culture of degraded parents. A strong contrast was found in the stolid, stupid, besotted mass that leaned against the barricade; it stirred not, breathed not, spoke not- but patiently awaited the chance of improving their position, and with unruffled and bovine quiet, stayed out the weary night to witness the strangulation of three human beings. Just before the barricade a wall of policemen prevented the possibility of entrance. Those who had tickets forced a difficult way through the crowd that hoarsely shouted in reckless blasphemy, or roared a line of drunken song, or warmly disputed the possession of food, or hotly quarrelled for the right to drink, and were then blocked by that immovable barrier of stolid savages through whose compact gathering passage was impossible. It was pleasant - if one could be pleasant then - to know that "the mere Irish" were not of these brawlers, that the never failing charge of riotous uproar must this night be laid to the account of the uncouth sons of Lancashire. I learned on inquiry that the Catholic clergy had inculcated peace and moderation to their people and especially requested them to absent themselves from Salford and its neighbourhood during the night of the execution. This commendable injunction was strictly obeyed and there was no Irish element in the motley crew whose ugly shadow was thrown in grotesque outline across the feebly lighted streets. At last I made my way to the Albert Hotel, a house standing almost fifty yards from the scaffold on the opposite street. I had learned that 'the fourth estate,' was there and there only; and soon I found myself in presence of some fifty press-men from every port of the United Kingdom. At intervals during the night we dropped out in couples to see the streets, but there was a general cluster when a Manchester gentleman brought in a copy of an anonymous letter which had been received by Calcraft, with the pithily illiterate rejoinder of that worthy man! - "If you hang any of the gentlemen condemned to death at the New Bailey Prison, it will be worse for you; you will not survive afterwards." Calcraft immediately sent the note to the visiting justices of the jails, with this comment - " I have received the enclosed letter. It seems a serious job. I hope you will look after it that I shall get home safe again." It seems that the executioner was in some say worried; and in truth if preparation could ease his mind, he must have been content. About twelve o'clock the police entered every house, and took the name and address of all persons who did not permanently reside therein. It is rather lucky Mr. Calcraft was not shot, or else we might all have been put on trial on the capital charge in that "constructive" spirit which marks the administration of recent law. About two o'clock the fog was dense and bitterly cold. An hour later; vocalism became popular, and the ringing tones of "John Brown" from a hundred throats pierced the thick "blanket" of the night." And thus, in eating, and drinking, and singing, and dancing ,and talking, and swearing, and marching, did these Englishmen hail the morn whose first light heralded coming and certain death to three men hard-by. ...to be continued... Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/

...continued... Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 NIGHT - THE STREETS There is little to add respecting the prison life of the condemned. Clinging to hope at first, they believed for some days after sentence was passed that they would not be hanged. The assurances which they received from without, however, dispelled this feeling a few days ago, and since Wednesday the men have been fully resigned to their fate. The parting interviews of Allen and Larkin with their friends took place on Friday; and after their final severance from earthly ties, the doomed men devoted themselves with increased fervour to their religious duties. They were locked up at the usual hour - about half-past six o'clock. Strange as it may appear; the three men, standing on the brink of the grave, about to suffer an ignominious death, slept as soundly as had been their wont. At a quarter to five o'clock on Saturday morning, Mr. Holt, the warder in charge, went to their cells and awoke them. The priests in attendance, the Rev. Canon Cantwell and the Rev. Fathers Quick and Gadd, celebrated mass at half-past five, and administered the holy communion. After partaking of the sacred rite, the convicts spent their time in prayer until nearly seven o'clock, when they breakfasted. The last preparations were then begun. At twelve minutes to eight o'clock, the executioner and his assistant, Armstrong, were introduced into the cell in which the convicts were placed, and the process of pinioning their arms was gone through. The priests stood by the side of the unhappy men, administering the consolations of religion, and exhorting them to firmness to meet the last dread ordeal. The convicts at this time manifested a remarkable fortitude. Not one of them flinched in the least. They had severally expressed an intention to address the crowd from the scaffold, but at the urgent entreaty of the priests they abandoned that intention. At a quarter to eight o'clock the interior court of the gaol presented a strange and striking spectacle. Behind the wall in New Bailey-street was erected the long staircase leading to the scaffold, and by the side were platforms for the tise of the military. The fog was so dense that objects could be but faintly distinguished at a distance of thirty yards. Suddenly the worlds of military command were heard and a company of the 72nd Highlanders marched round the Roundhouse and took up a position in line of the foot of the staircase. Simultaneously small detachments of the same regiment ascended to the platform, and crouched there, with their loaded rifles slightly projecting over the prison wall. At almost the same moment the heads of a line of soldiers arose above the parapet of the railway viaduct. A line of warders was formed in the gaol court. The sentries on duty ceased their walk; magistrates and reporters stood aside, and a dead silence prevailed for a few moments, as a signal was given from the corner of the Roundhouse. At three minutes past eight o'clock the solemn voice of a minister repeating the litany of the Roman Catholic Church was heard; and the head of the procession became visible through a thick fog, about thirty yards from the foot of the staircase. The Rev. Cantwell walked first, by the side of Allen. The convict was deadly pale; his eyes wandered alternately from the priest to the individuals standing round and then he uplifted his gaze in a vain endeavour to pierce the dense canopy which hung above him. He walked with a tolerably steady step, and uttered the response, "Lord, have mercy upon us." in a firm voice. As he ascended the staircase he seemed to summon all his courage, and he succeeded so far as to be able to confront the crowd with an unshrinking countenance. Next to him came Larkin, in whose appearance confinement and anxiety of mind had wrought a striking change. He walked with difficulty and required the support of the warders as he mounted the staircase. He seemed to join mechanically in the responses; and as he neared the head of the stirs he gave one hasty glance at the black beams overhead and seemed about to faint. Gould was the last, and he met hi fate firmly. Joining in the responses with a steady voice, and keeping his eyes upward, after one glance at the group assembled below, he mounted the steps without hesitation and took his place upon the drop. ...to be continued... Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/

Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 NIGHT - THE STREETS About ten o'clock large crowds began to gather in the streets immediately in the neighbourhood of the scaffold, but the outer barrier arrested all further progress, and then these Englishmen sat down. The peculiar characteristic of the nation was fully displayed by the lively disputes concerning the purchase of hot potatoes which were being cooked in enormous quantities by machines resembling fire-engines. Around these were squatted those chattering, swearing, obscene; but eating assemblages to be found nowhere but in England. Wrangles and jokes were settled and laughed at, and politics and Fenianism warmly and energetically discussed. Cans of beer and lumps of cheese; hot potatoes and squares of bacon; steaming pies and odorous onions- hodge-podges of marvellous and heterogeneous confusion were discussed and consumed with a gusto that only the eve of an execution can bring to the enlightened Englishman. Females sat in these gatherings, and joined in these disgusting festivals as confidently as if that were the scene for woman. Young lads and girls sported in high glee in front of the glaring gas jet that told of the beer-cellar and youthful lips rang out the ready oath that spoke the culture of degraded parents. A strong contrast was found in the stolid, stupid, besotted mass that leaned against the barricade; it stirred not, breathed not, spoke not- but patiently awaited the chance of improving their position, and with unruffled and bovine quiet, stayed out the weary night to witness the strangulation of three human beings. Just before the barricade a wall of policemen prevented the possibility of entrance. Those who had tickets forced a difficult way through the crowd that hoarsely shouted in reckless blasphemy, or roared a line of drunken song, or warmly disputed the possession of food, or hotly quarrelled for the right to drink, and were then blocked by that immovable barrier of stolid savages through whose compact gathering passage was impossible. It was pleasant - if one could be pleasant then - to know that "the mere Irish" were not of these brawlers, that the never failing charge of riotous uproar must this night be laid to the account of the uncouth sons of Lancashire. I learned on inquiry that the Catholic clergy had inculcated peace and moderation to their people and especially requested them to absent themselves from Salford and its neighbourhood during the night of the execution. This commendable injunction was strictly obeyed and there was no Irish element in the motley crew whose ugly shadow was thrown in grotesque outline across the feebly lighted streets. At last I made my way to the Albert Hotel, a house standing almost fifty yards from the scaffold on the opposite street. I had learned that 'the fourth estate,' was there and there only; and soon I found myself in presence of some fifty press-men from every port of the United Kingdom. At intervals during the night we dropped out in couples to see the streets, but there was a general cluster when a Manchester gentleman brought in a copy of an anonymous letter which had been received by Calcraft, with the pithily illiterate rejoinder of that worthy man! - "If you hang any of the gentlemen condemned to death at the New Bailey Prison, it will be worse for you; you will not survive afterwards." Calcraft immediately sent the note to the visiting justices of the jails, with this comment - " I have received the enclosed letter. It seems a serious job. I hope you will look after it that I shall get home safe again." It seems that the executioner was in some say worried; and in truth if preparation could ease his mind, he must have been content. About twelve o'clock the police entered every house, and took the name and address of all persons who did not permanently reside therein. It is rather lucky Mr. Calcraft was not shot, or else we might all have been put on trial on the capital charge in that "constructive" spirit which marks the administration of recent law. About two o'clock the fog was dense and bitterly cold. An hour later; vocalism became popular, and the ringing tones of "John Brown" from a hundred throats pierced the thick "blanket" of the night." And thus, in eating, and drinking, and singing, and dancing ,and talking, and swearing, and marching, did these Englishmen hail the morn whose first light heralded coming and certain death to three men hard-by. There is little to add respecting the prison life of the condemned. Clinging to hope at first, they believed for some days after sentence was passed that they would not be hanged. The assurances which they received from without, however, dispelled this feeling a few days ago, and since Wednesday the men have been fully resigned to their fate. The parting interviews of Allen and Larkin with their friends took place on Friday; and after their final severance from earthly ties, the doomed men devoted themselves with increased fervour to their religious duties. They were locked up at the usual hour - about half-past six o'clock. Strange as it may appear; the three men, standing on the brink of the grave, about to suffer an ignominious death, slept as soundly as had been their wont. At a quarter to five o'clock on Saturday morning, Mr. Holt, the warder in charge, went to their cells and awoke them. The priests in attendance, the Rev. Canon Cantwell and the Rev. Fathers Quick and Gadd, celebrated mass at half-past five, and administered the holy communion. After partaking of the sacred rite, the convicts spent their time in prayer until nearly seven o'clock, when they breakfasted. The last preparations were then begun. At twelve minutes to eight o'clock, the executioner and his assistant, Armstrong, were introduced into the cell in which the convicts were placed, and the process of pinioning their arms was gone through. The priests stood by the side of the unhappy men, administering the consolations of religion, and exhorting them to firmness to meet the last dread ordeal. The convicts at this time manifested a remarkable fortitude. Not one of them flinched in the least. They had severally expressed an intention to address the crowd from the scaffold, but at the urgent entreaty of the priests they abandoned that intention. At a quarter to eight o'clock the interior court of the gaol presented a strange and striking spectacle. Behind the wall in New Bailey-street was erected the long staircase leading to the scaffold, and by the side were platforms for the tise of the military. The fog was so dense that objects could be but faintly distinguished at a distance of thirty yards. Suddenly the worlds of military command were heard and a company of the 72nd Highlanders marched round the Roundhouse and took up a position in line of the foot of the staircase. Simultaneously small detachments of the same regiment ascended to the platform, and crouched there, with their loaded rifles slightly projecting over the prison wall. At almost the same moment the heads of a line of soldiers arose above the parapet of the railway viaduct. A line of warders was formed in the gaol court. The sentries on duty ceased their walk; magistrates and reporters stood aside, and a dead silence prevailed for a few moments, as a signal was given from the corner of the Roundhouse. At three minutes past eight o'clock the solemn voice of a minister repeating the litany of the Roman Catholic Church was heard; and the head of the procession became visible through a thick fog, about thirty yards from the foot of the staircase. The Rev. Cantwell walked first, by the side of Allen. The convict was deadly pale; his eyes wandered alternately from the priest to the individuals standing round and then he uplifted his gaze in a vain endeavour to pierce the dense canopy which hung above him. He walked with a tolerably steady step, and uttered the response, "Lord, have mercy upon us." in a firm voice. As he ascended the staircase he seemed to summon all his courage, and he succeeded so far as to be able to confront the crowd with an unshrinking countenance. Next to him came Larkin, in whose appearance confinement and anxiety of mind had wrought a striking change. He walked with difficulty and required the support of the warders as he mounted the staircase. He seemed to join mechanically in the responses; and as he neared the head of the stirs he gave one hasty glance at the black beams overhead and seemed about to faint. Gould was the last, and he met hi fate firmly. Joining in the responses with a steady voice, and keeping his eyes upward, after one glance at the group assembled below, he mounted the steps without hesitation and took his place upon the drop. ...to be continued... Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/

Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 THE MANCHESTER TRAGEDY The earnest and persevering efforts made to save the lives of the Fenian prisoners at Manchester having unfortunately failed of success, the last sentence of the law was carried out on Saturday morning at eight o'clock on the three prisoners Allen, Gould and Larkin. the crowd was very much smaller than was anticipated and all was quiet. Extensive arrangements had been made by the authorities to insure the peace being preserved. No attempt, however, was made to disturb it, and the number of those who assembled to witness the sad scene was much fewer than was expected. The mayors both of Manchester and the adjoining borough of Salford issued notices urging the people to abstain from being present on the occasion and all the Catholic clergy impressed similar advice on their flocks. We give the following details which will be read with melancholy interest. THE CONDEMNED MEN The boat and train which brought me here yesterday morning also conveyed the sister and cousin of Allen, and two sisters-in-law of Larkin. When I got to the prison at ten o'clock I found these poor women seeking admission for the last time to those ill-fated and unhappy men. Inside the iron gate set Larkin's wife and children - mere babes. They were soon joined by his affected mother and a more heart-tearing scene I never witnessed. Words have no power to convey the blank despair - the wild but speechless mercy of these poor women. They were possessed by that dumb, hopeless grief, whose expression was the big unhidden tear that rolled down the wan and emaciated face. But the eloquent and ominous silence twas broken by the presence of young Allen's almost distracted affianced whose low piteous cry and frequent bursting sob compelled the sympathy of all, and made even strangers turn swag. For reasons I daresay unknown, and certainly never to be explained, this miserable band were refused even the hope of admission, and after clinging to those iron bars for hours, they were sent away by authority. Subsequently a message was sent to Allen's mother that she would be allowed in, and his sister, cousins and his youthful betrothed were denied that last interview for which they had come so far. Of Larkin's relatives, his mother, his wife and baby child were permitted to see him. Larkin's mother was greatly excited in the corridors and she approached the cell in which lay her unfortunate son; but she and her companions in misery were soothed by the Rev. McGadd, who had been in continual and immediate attendance on the men since their conviction. He told them to allay their fears, and quiet the expression of their sorrow- that their unfortunate relatives had received in meek submission the never-failing consolations of religion. The reverend father administered the Holy Communion to his charges every alternate morning for the past ten days. LETTER OF THE MARCHIONESS OF QUEENSBURY I happened to meet at the jail, yesterday morning, a young gentleman who was the bearer of good news to these unhappy men and their afflicted relatives. He came from the Dowager Marchioness of Queensbury, of ancient Catholic lineage. he was the bearer of a letter to Father Gadd, in which the noble lady enclosed £100 to be distributed as his reverence should deem proper. Subjoined is the letter, which is certainly one of the most beautiful ever written- "My Dear Friends - It may be that these few lines may minister some consolation to you on your approaching departure from this world. I send you by the hands of a faithful messenger some help for your wife, or wives and children in their approaching irreparable loss, and with the assurance that as long as I live they shall be cared for to the utmost of my power. Mr. M'Donnell, the bearer of this for me, will bring me their address and the address of the priest that attended you. "It will also be a comfort for your precious souls to know that we remember you here at the altar of God, where the daily remembrance of that all-glorious sacrifice on Calvary for you all is not neglected. "We have daily Mass for you here, and if it be so that it pleases the good God to permit you thus to be called to himself on Saturday morning, the precious body and blood of our Lord and Saviour, and our Friend, will be presented for your before God at eight o'clock on that day, that blood as precious which cleanses from all sin. May your last words and thoughts be Jesus. Rest on Him who is faithful and willing and all powerful to save; rest on Him and on his sacrifice on that Cross for you, instead of you, and her him say - 'To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.' Yet will we remember your souls constantly at the altar of God after your departure, as well as those whom you leave in life. "Farewell, and may Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, save us all, and give you His last blessing upon earth, and an eternal continuance of it in Heaven. "CAROLINE QUEENSBURY. "Ventnor, Isle of Wight." Father Gadd immediately communicated the contents of the letter to the condemned and their families. They were deeply grateful. The Dowager Marchioness of Queensbury, is a daughter of the present Sir William Clayton, Bart. Her mother was heiress of Colonel O'Donel, eldest son of Sir Neil O'Donel, Bart. of the county of Mayo. Her husband, while still a young man, killed himself in 1858, by accident, when out shooting. One of her sons lost his life two years ago when ascending Mount Blanc. ...to be continued... Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/