...continued... Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 THE EXECUTION As the moment drew nigh there was a stillness in the crowd that might be felt. The jail clock rang out eight in sharp cold tones, and the units were repeated by the anxious multitude. At the moment the cap of the officer commanding the Third highlanders inside the jail appeared above the wall, and soon the gleaming guns moved briskly towards the scaffold. At two minutes past the hour the door was opened and Allen appeared. By those who looked up and saw that young but distorted face, it will never be forgotten. he stepped firmly on the drop, his wan and convulsed countenance raised to the sky; in his pinioned hands he clasped the cross, and in agonizing tones fervently cried, "Jesus, have mercy on us; Jesus, have mercy on us." Calcraft was by his side instantly, quickly drew the close-fitting white cap over his head, and threw the noose round his neck. Allen continued to pay loud and fast. The executioner just touched his hand and turned to receive Gould who boldly stepped on, raised his bound hand, and laid it on Allen's; he then kissed him on the cheek, and immediately joined in prayer. At this moment Larkin stepped on and looked collected, but almost immediately reeled, staggered, and fell with bent knee and helpless body slightly against Gould and fainted in the arms of a warder. Gould turned and looked on Larkin, who was held up while Calcraft with rapid hand adjusted the cap and noose. A dull crash was heard, and the three ropes sprung to their utmost length. Allen's was perfectly still, Gould's quivered for a moment, Larkin's had a rotary motion, and then all was still. The clergymen continued to repeat the prayers for the dead, standing uncovered over the suspended corpses. For three quarters of an hour the prayers were repeated, and then all retired. At seven minutes past nine the door was re-opened and Calcraft appeared to remove the bodies. He looked a comely old man, with a large, flowing white beard. He wore a velvet travelling cap and stood right firmly on the scaffold. With one hand he held the single portion of the rope, while, with the other, he undid the knot which ran round the beam. he then held in his two hands the rope from which was suspended the body; and so on to the end of his foul work. He was assisted by a young man who is practicing this vile trade in Chester ,and who is styled in a Manchester paper, " a manly fellow." At half-past nine the huge crowd began to melt - the deed was done - the law was revenged - the sight was over. And every man went into his place. AFTER THE EXECUTION The Times says - "When at nine o'clock the bodies were cut down, hardly any persons but those on duty round the spot were present. The remains of the culprits were at once carried down the ladders leading from the scaffold, and taken across the prison yard into a little soil, where they were laid on benches. The straps which had bound them were then removed. and the surgeon came and certified formally as to their deaths. Singularly enough, as far as the expression of their features might be judged, Allen seemed to have suffered most, through he died earliest and apparently without a struggle. The features of Larkin, who jerked the scaffold itself in his convulsive struggle, were as placid as though he had merely fallen asleep. The remains of Gould, too, showed equal signs of tranquility in death as those of Larkin. The hands were opened wide; those of Larkin were merely folded together; but with Allen, who had apparently never moved, the finger nails seemed almost dug into the flesh. About the middle of the day the bodies were buried, without form or ceremony, in the jail passage where Burrows the murderer is laid, the only murderer - indeed, the only other criminal- that has ever suffered death in Salford jail. 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 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/

Hello. I was told that there is a Mary Tannyan in WFT vol 108, tree 1106 and WFT vol 125, tree 915. Would anyone have these cd's? I think this Mary Tannyan was married to a William Langley in Loughrea Galway, Ireland in the 1840s. I am trying to find out what information is on the cd's, and who put in the information, I would like to try and contact them. Mary was my grgrandfathers sister. Any information on Mary would be appreciated. I do have some information on her children and grandchildren, The family owend a Shoe and bootware house in Loughrea.Thank you. Best wishes. Bob

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/

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/

Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 THE MANCHESTER TRAGEDY Contrary to our most recent hopes and prayers, those of the Fenian prisoners at Manchester - Allen, Larkin and Gould (or O'Brien) have been put to death, nominally for the murder of Sergeant Brett, but really for the successful rescue of the Fenian leaders Colonel Kelly and Captain Deasy. The political scaffold has thus, after the lapse of half a century, been once more raised in England. It is well understood, and will be dearly remembered hereafter, that these men were put to a horrible death because they were Irishmen and because they strove to the best of their knowledge and power to win their country's independence. Had that country been England - and not Ireland, their reward had been, not the gallows, but the Spectator tells us "something very like admiration and sympathy." It is not a question for discussion - blood is thicker than water, and millions of Irishmen feel that a great public crime has been committed, not the less odious because of its base hypocrisy. Had those men or any others been tried, convicted, and hanged for treason, the curse of the British government, however cruel and unwise, would at all events have been straightforward. But public hypocrisy has ever been a great British talent, and in this case the utmost advantage has been made of it. The common sense of the world will, however, scout with contempt the false pretence that three men were executed for murder. Mankind indeed will be apt to characterise by the foul name of murder, not the casual death of the policeman, but the deliberate and dastardly slaughter of the Fenian victims. At all events Irishmen and have but one feeling regarding this odious crime, and all who have committed, advised, abetted, or rejoined at it. Nor is it a feeling that will quickly pass away. In that miserable five minutes on the scaffold of Manchester a deed was done that has sundered Englishmen and Irishmen for this generation. "There rolls between us a great sea of blood." In one day the political relations between the two countries have retrograded half a century. Ireland cannot forgive that wanton and cruel bloodshed. England must account for the lives of these three men, humble though they were. Millions who know nothing of Fenianism feel for these men as if they were their own kindred foully murdered. God knows we do not exaggerate. Men who resisted with their whole strength the Fenian movement - priests who denounced it from the altar - have shed hot and bitter tears over this deed of blood. Could it be otherwise while they had the hearts of Irishmen in their bosoms? The government have committed a great - a fearful- an irreparable mistake. The problem of Irish disaffection and Irish misery, always difficult, they have made well night hopeless. Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/

SNIPPET: Per the late Susan FLYNN (nee NESDALE), living in Ireland in her early years was different than it is today. There were large families and people lived on food they produced on their own farms -- "Every Christmas a big pig was killed. The ham was cured separately and was boiled for Christmas dinner. A turkey was roasted in a big oven alongside the hearth fire with coals heating the lid... What a pleasure to sit down to your Christmas dinner and taste the flavour of that delicious bird along with your own home-grown vegetables. Our church was over two miles away and all the neighbours, old and young, would assemble together on Christmas morning. The older people had lighted lanterns. With the frost and snow thick on the ground, we liked to start long before daylight. Over the road we joined with several more families. It is a memory I will never forget with such a pleasant atmosphere as we all made our way to our church to worship. There was such craic o! n the way home as we started snowballing. You had to give as much as you got. Some took offence, and then the fat was in the fire. After Christmas the young fellows would go out to bury the wren and collect plenty of money on Stephen's Day. A meeting was held to choose a house for the spree. All the neighbours from miles round were invited and the music would light your heart. We often danced to four violins playing together for the twelve days of Christmas. It was such a pleasure living in Ireland in those days. Old people got such respect and the door never had to be locked at night. My father was a great man for plenty of crop. It took several days to harvest our oats. Remember that it was a hook and a scythe that was used then. It took several days to bring home the oats on the horse and cart. You had to be very careful building the oats on the cart because if the sides were not even the cart could very easily overturn. I was witness to a few such upsets. It such an emergency we all had to lie on the horse's neck while my brothers with skilled hands and practice would release every strap. The oats were then removed from the cart. The cart was very quietly pushed off the animal. Up he would jump and not a bone would be broken .... My father and brothers were violin players who loved music and Dad took great delight in passing on the tradition by giving lessons to eager youngsters. Our home was a home of music and games, but there was plenty of hard work too. All the local boys would come to practice football in our meadow. We had a great football team in the our immediate area. My father was the referee, and he was a strict one. He stood for no nonsense and demanded the best of every player. The match that was played on the Sunday would later be replayed at our fireside. It gave him great pleasure to hear of our team's huge feat in achieving victory. Our footballers were greatly skilled and always played it clean. They were a joy to watch ... Unfortunately employment was very scarce in Leitrim at the time and as a result several of those fine young men were forced to emigrate and were lost to future Leitrim teams .... I retained a lifetime love of Gaelic football and I enjoy nothing more th! an following the games every Sunday on the radio and television. The Leitrim team's performance against Roscommon this year was wonderful and one that will be remembered for a long time. They were a credit to the county. Well done to the manager, Declan ROWLEY on how well he had them prepared ... The war years were difficult times. Many items were scarce. We often had to seek out the black market. A tyre for a push bike used to be about 3/6 in old money. It rocketed to one pound but we had no option but to buy it. Otherwise you would have to stay at home from dances, which were miles away. The dance halls were a great source of pleasure. Young people travelled from miles around for those dances. I met my own beloved at one such dance ... One thing you had to know how to do in our time was know how to dance or you would be a wallflower all night. There was an old school house up the road and there was a dancing class held there every Tuesday night. It was there that we learned the Irish dancing steps. We perfected the Highland fling, the Barn dance, the Stack of Barley, the Walls of Limerick and the Irish Reel and many more. ... There were great singers - it was a treat to hear them sing The Black Bird of Sweet Avondale, The White Cliffs of Dover and one ! of my favourites The Fields of Athenry. One chap used to sing Danny Boy - it was a hard song to sing but let me tell you he could reach the notes. We would stand in the lane and listen to the echo of beautiful voices on many a cold frosty night. When I hear those songs now it brings back sweet memories. When the war ended emigration started. It's sad to think that some of the finest looking boys and girls left our shore, the cream of our country departed. Most of them settled in England. It grieves me to think of the loss they were to our lovely country. I myself emigrated because I knew I was doomed to hardship. All my father wanted for me was a man with a farm. Age didn't come into it. If he was fifty years or ten more it didn't matter, as long as he had the acres he was a great choice. Often these farmers were up to their necks in debt .... Our mother was a far seeing woman. She was in America for many yeas and so she put me wise and gave great advice. My beloved went to London. We made a secret pact and I followed later. We married in England. My mother was in failing health, so we came on a visit. A local farm was up for sale and we bought it. We did not return to England. I took care of both parents with the help of my two brothers. My mother died f! irst and my father seven years later, at the ripe old age of ninety-three. We had many long talks, and it would draw a tear from a stone to hear of the hardships of his youth. And I for one am delighted to be living in lovely Leitrim." -- Excerpts, "Leitrim Guardian" 2004 annual magazine, with photos of Susan FLYNN, and of John FLYNN on his Massey Ferguson tractor.

georgia de salvo <redheadedwitch6969@yahoo.com> wrote..................... >My Mother believes that we may be of Irish descent because of the >similarities >of her surname and the County of Trim? Can anyone with any local access (In >County Trim), tell me if any TRIMMER'S ever lived there? Thank you, Georgia, >Too close too New Orleans. Probably British............. But try a Google.com search of the name. TRIMMER was one of the "Adventurers for land" in Ireland. "Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland" " According to the scheme of the Parliament for suppressing' the Irish Rebellion (of 1641), 2.500,000 acres of Irish lands, to be forfeited, were offered as security to those who should advance moneys toward raising and paying a private army for subduing the rebels In Ireland. "

Hi, Georgia -- You can do a surname search by goggling Irish Times ireland.com ancestor word group. Trim and Trimmer are apparently both surnames, looking through the Internet. When I first saw Trimmer, I though perhaps variation or misspelling of Treanor, Traynor, Trainer, Trimble or Turner, but it looks to me like Trimmer IS a surname and often connected with England. J. ----- Original Message ----- From: "georgia de salvo" <redheadedwitch6969@yahoo.com> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Wednesday, November 09, 2005 5:33 PM Subject: [IRELAND] TRIMMER surname help???? > My Mother believes that we may be of Irish descent because of the similarities of her surname and the County of Trim? Can anyone with any local access (In County Trim), tell me if any TRIMMER'S ever lived there? Thank you, Georgia, too close too New Orleans.

SNIPPET: Per article by Brendan CANNING in the 1999 issue of the yearly "Leitrim Guardian" magazine, Leitrim's "Lost Treasure" is Tom McGREEVY of New Haven, CT. Activated in February, 1941, Tom, a Jamestown, Co. Leitrim native, served six years in active duty, much of it spent in battles in the Pacific. Now 92, Tom easily remembers the experiences of this period in his life and how he earned six ribbons, including a Purple Heart - the most revered award at the time. Thomas Patrick McGREEVY, born March 1, 1906, was the second of ten children born to Michael and Ellen (McNABOLA) McGREEVY. His siblings included Elizabeth, James, Frank, John, Michael, Margaret, Joseph, Willie and Pat. Tom emigrated to the United States on April 3, 1927, and days later began a career working on the railroad that would last 44 years. In 1941, Tom joined the National Guard's 102nd Service Company known as "Hegarty Guards." His company was activated that year for a one-year training period and he was sent to Fort Blanding in Florida. As Tom and his mates began packing to come home, the Japanese struck Pearl Harbour. Previously a member of Co. D, 102nd Infantry, 43rd Division, Tom was transferred to the 169th Infantry and sent to Camp Shelby in Mississippi, where his skills were used to train newly-drafted troops, readying them for the battles to come. Shortly, the time would come when Tom's own skills would be needed in the Pacific. Tom was sent to Auckland, New Zealand, then New Caledonia and Guadalcanal where he first came face-to-face with enemy troops in December, 1942. As soon as he hit the beach at Guadalcanal he saw battle. Later, in a particularly fierce battle on Munda Island in New Georgia, Tom's unit was charged with taking the local airport back from Japanese troops; this took 23 long days, and Tom sadly remembers seeing his best friend killed, one of the 1,136 who died during "Operation Toenails." On August 16, 1943, while Tom lay in a foxhole trying to sleep, he was hit by flying debris (a five-pound chunk of metal) that broke his collarbone. After spending ten days in a field hospital he was moved to a hospital in New Zealand where he spent six months recovering from his wounds. Tom was subsequently awarded the Purple Heart. Tom was later reunited with his unit and continued to battle enemy forces in New Guinea and the Philippines. Ribbons he earned during his tenure in the war include the Combat Infantry ribbon which requires that a unit be on the front lines for a minimum of 24 hours. Tom also received a unit citation for volunteering to march 17 miles in an attempt to beat the Japanese to a certain point in New Guinea. This was a nonstop march with no transportation. A staff sergeant by the end of the war, Tom was discharged in September, 1945, and returned to his work on the railroad. He was reactivated briefly for the Korean War in 1952, but he was never sent overseas. Tom met his wife, the former Frances SMITH of Ballinagh, Cavan, in 1953. Married in 1956, they had one daughter, Peggy. At the time of the article, Tom was still active in Irish affairs in greater New Haven. Tom enjoys telling his stories to his grandchildren, Sean, Kathleen and Patrick, and with humble reverence shows off his medals, his uniforms and the debris from the time of his injury. Brendan CANNING, contributor to the "Leitrim Guardian," lives in Hamden, CT with his wife, Anne Marie. He is the son of Bridie (SCANLON) CANNING, a native of Dowra, and Sean CANNING, originally from Drumshanbo

SNIPPET: Englishman Richard LOVETT kept notes of his journey throughout the Emerald Isle in 1888, and these were published that same year by 'The Religious Tract Society.' Vowing to "keep an open mind," LOVETT demonstrated a deep interest in Ireland and genuine respect for its people. In fact, he stated that if the English spent more time getting acquainted with Ireland they would rethink their position on the Irish. Lovett stated, "A steamer ran regularly to the Arran Islands, these are three rocky island lying off the mouth of Galway Bay, abounding in ruins of the most remarkable kind, and inhabited by a simple and kindly race of peasant fisherman. On these islands, at places like Barna, in Galway Bay, and in fact almost universally along the western coast, the traveller meets and can readily test the seaworthy qualities of the curragh, the representative of the ancient coracle. These boats, made of tarred canvas stretched over a light frame, frail as they seem, can live in very rough weather, and are managed with very great skill by the boatmen. Their chief defect is that they make much leeway when there is a strong breeze. But any one who wishes to make a voyage along this coast in much the same fashion as the Christian missionaries in the fifth and sixth centuries, can do so by employing the modern curragh. After exhausting in a more or less rapid fashion the sights of Galway and the neighbourhood, most travellers push on into the wilds of Connemara. Loughs (lakes) Corrib and Mask, together with the village of Cong, lie at the beginning of the route. During the summer a steamer sails daily from Galway to Cong, traversing Lough Corrib, which is not only one of the largest but also one of the loveliest in Ireland. It covers an area of no less than 44,000 acres. it is studded with islets, the most important being Inchagoill, or the "the island of the devout foreigner,' which contains an ancient graveyard and the ruins of two very old Irish churches. The more ancient of the two is known as Teampull Phaidrig, or St. Patrick's Church, and has claims by no means despicable to be considered as belonging to the age of the great Irish missionary. There is, moreover, upon Inchagoill a stone monument bearing the inscription, "the stone of Lugnaedon, son of Limeneuh," who is generally held ! to have been the sister of St. Patrick. Experts have decided that on paleographical grounds the inscription cannot be referred to a later date than the beginning of the sixth century. The second church, Teampull-na-Neave, "the church of the Saint,' is several centuries younger than St. Patrick's, and presents to the student of church architecture a very fine example of the decorated, circular-arched, cluster-pillared doorway. On the isthmus connecting Loughs Corrib and Mask stands the village of Cong, the name being derived from the Irish word "Cunga," which mean "a neck." About the year 1010 Cong was the seat of a bishopric, and there are still extant the ruins of a very fine abbey dating from the twelfth century. It belonged to the wealthy order of St. Augustine. During the last fifty or sixty years the remains have suffered severely from the depredations of those who considered and used it as a handy quarry. It was famous in early days for wealth and ecclesiastical treasures; of the latter the famous Cross of Cong, is a good example. This is a famous relic, dating from the Middle Ages, enshrining and illustrating, the traditions and habits and life of the early Irish church. This cross was constructed, as one of the five inscriptions upon it states, for the following purpose: 'In this cross is preserved the cross on which the Founder of the World suffered.' In other words, it is a reliquary (a! receptacle for sacred objects) and at one time was believed to contain a piece of the cross upon which Jesus Christ suffered 'the just for the unjust,' in order 'that He should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad' It was made by order of Turlough O'Connor, father of the last king who ruled Ireland prior to the Norman invasion, about the year 1123, and placed in the Church of Tuam, during the Archbishopric of Muiredach O'Duffy, who died in 1150. This is clearly shown by the inscriptions still decipherable upon it. It was transferred to Cong either by O'Duffy, who died there, or by order of King Turlough O'Connor, who founded and endowed that abbey. At that time of the Reformation it was concealed in an oaken chest, and early in the present century a parish priest, the Rev. Mr. Prendergast, found chest and relic in a cottage. From his successor, Professor MacCullagh bought it, and presented it to the Museum (Dublin). The shaft is thirty inc! hes high, the arms eighteen and three-quarter inches broad, and it is one and three-quarter inches thick. It is of oak, covered with plates of copper. On the central plate of the front at the junction of the cross is a large crystal, through which what was supposed to be the true cross could be seen. Eighteen jewels were placed at regular intervals, and of these thirteen still remain. Two out of the four beads which originally surrounded the central boss of the four beads remain. The lower part of the shaft is the head of a grotesque animal, beneath which is the richly decorated ball containing the socket into which the pole was inserted by which the reliquary was borne aloft on processional occasions. The Annals of the Four Masters record that in "A.D. 1150, Muireadhach Ua Dubhthaigh, Archbishop of Connaught, chief senior of all Ireland in wisdom, chastity, in the bestowal of jewels and food, died at Cong in the 75th year of his age.' This man's name is inscribed upon the p! rocessional Cross of Cong.".. (The village of Cong) -- "Roderick O'Connor, who is often described as "the last King of Ireland,' died here in 1198. The popular view, that he was also interred in Cong Abbey, is incorrect, he having been buried at Clonmacnois. But here he spent the last fifteen years of his life. 'Standing between the river and the abbey, the picture naturally rises before us of the ancient monarch, broken down by the calamities which his family was suffering from, a foreign invasion, which he was no longer able to resist, but still more so by the opposition and ingratitude of his own children and relatives - passing up the river with his retinue, landing here in 1183, and received by the Lord Abbot and his cannons and friars, and then taking leave of his faithful adherents at the water's edge, being conducted in procession to the abbey, which, it is said, his munificence had endowed. There as a recluse, untrammelled by the weight of state affairs, and possibly unaffected by the quarrels o! f his chieftains and kinsfolk, the Last Monarch of Ireland, abdicating his authority because the country no longer supported him, died, a sad but fitting and prophetic emblem of the land over which he had ruled.' Not far from Cong is the plain of Moytura, where one of those famous battles - half-historic, half-mythic, lasting three days, took place in the dawn of Irish history between the Firbolgs and the Tuatha de Danaan. Those who wish to get some accurate notion of what really took place on that occasion cannot do better than consult Sir W. Wilde's "Lough Corrib," where they will find the history of the great struggle minutely traced. Lough Mask is about nine miles long and four wide, in a very beautiful part of the country, abounding in traces of ruined castles and churches. The river connecting the two lakes runs partly underground, and we are able to give an engraving of one part of this subterranean channel where it is easily accessible and widens out into what is known as the 'Pigeon Hole.' The lively Celtic imagination, which has produced all over Ireland such a rich crop of fairy lore and local legends, has enriched the stream with a brace of holy white trout, which it would be impious in the extreme to catch."

In a message dated 11/9/05 5:34:19 PM, redheadedwitch6969@yahoo.com writes: > My Mother believes that we may be of Irish descent because of the > similarities of her surname and the County of Trim? Can anyone with any local access > (In County Trim), tell me if any TRIMMER'S ever lived there? Thank you, > Georgia, too close too New Orleans. > Check out: http://www.beechwood-lodge.com/trim.htm Trim is in Co. Meath, Ireland and Trimmer is one of the few Irish toponymics. Linda

I am looking for any info. about this family: 1st Gen.-Patrick Henry McGUIRE,b. 14 Jun 1844 in Derrylahan who emigrated to Ontario, Canada & U.S. 2nd Gen.-Patrick's parents were: Bernard McGUIRE, b. bet. 1809-1817 in Derrylahan,& died in Peterborough, Canada; and wife, Susan McHUGH, b. 1811 in Killinagh (dau.of Peter McHUGH, b. 1785 & Mary McBRIEN, b. 1789) 3rd Gen.-Patrick McGUIRE, b. 1783 of Glangevlin who md. Catharine DOLAN, b. 1787 in Glangevlin or Killinagh & died 11 Nov 1853. 4th Gen. Patrick McGuire, b. 1721(?) of Co. Fermanagh, d. 11 Apr 1776 & md. Nellie O'REILLY of Red Hill. Most of this info.is family tradition. Are there Catholic parish records, cemetery or history records available for this time period? Any suggestions appreciated. Thanks, Renee Harris __________________________________ Yahoo! FareChase: Search multiple travel sites in one click. http://farechase.yahoo.com

Dear listers! I am new to the list and search for the location LOMBRIK in Ireland. Can anybody help me? Kind regards, Feliks

My Mother believes that we may be of Irish descent because of the similarities of her surname and the County of Trim? Can anyone with any local access (In County Trim), tell me if any TRIMMER'S ever lived there? Thank you, Georgia, too close too New Orleans. --------------------------------- Yahoo! FareChase - Search multiple travel sites in one click.

A TRIP TO POWERSCOURT GARDENS Oh endless flower and plant that grow Within your beautiful gardens so vast and rare, Juggling with colour, The silken work graces your countenance. The trees in their stately moods, Pompous yet arrogant too, A garden laced with Grecian figures, Caught in a web of Oriental intrigue, The waterfall nearby, Churning out a spray of mist Perfumed like the Arabian sands Ne'er sun or moon would ever compare With this blanket of beauty. -- Rita Cleary (contemp.), born Dangan, Tuam, Co. Galway.

Hi, Feliks -- While there is a Lehurick, Co. Galway, and a Lambeg Town, Co. Antrim - it may be that you are looking for Co. Limerick. J. ----- Original Message ----- From: "IHFF" <office@ihff.at> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Wednesday, November 09, 2005 11:25 AM Subject: [IRELAND] LOMBRIK > Dear listers! > > I am new to the list and search for the location > LOMBRIK in Ireland. > > Can anybody help me? > > Kind regards, > Feliks >

SNIPPET: In 1649, when Oliver CROMWELL came to Ireland, determined to bring the entire population to the Protestant faith, he once ordered the Irish natives to go "to Hell or to Connacht...," to make room for his planters. Maybe he, too, got it right by happenstance. Many millions of visitors would, today, join with the natives in claiming that Connacht is so far away from Hell that it is, in the words of Patrick PEARSE, as close as you can get on this earth to the gates of Heaven. Galway and Mayo, Sligo and Roscommon and lovely little languid Leitrim, these are stops along the twisting road which runs west into the heart of Connacht. Along the edge of that road in a small place called Rosmuc in Connemara, one can still visit Patrick PEARSE's cottage, the summer holiday home of the schoolteacher-poet who championed the clandestine Irish Republican Brotherhood and was later executed for his part in the Easter Rising of 1916. One imagines he must have often sat inside the small windows dreaming his revolutionary dreams and writing poetry, "The little fields where mountainy men have sown, And soon will reap, Close to the gates of Heaven." Although by far the poorest of the provinces economically, it is, by common consent, infinitely the richest in what it has to offer those who comes to see, to hear, to smell, to touch; to taste the core of a culture. Gaelic is still the musical mother tongue in parts of Connemara as it is on many of the offshore islands where the tough yet delicate currachs nimbly dance on waves, as durable as the culture itself. There are many more musicians per acre of flute, fiddle and accordion than anywhere else except maybe in Co. Clare. In the quietest corners of the great mountains of the west there are still hardy bands of moonshiners in a ritual, although illegal, almost as old as the hills themselves. Hay is still cut and saved the old, slow way on many farms, turf is burned aromatically through old chimneys, salmon are still poached from the rivers as they have always been poached. The Currach Boat-racing Competition is the highlight of "An Patrun (the pattern) Festival" which is held at the end of June on the island of Inishmore in honor of St. Peter and St Paul's feast day. Three-man rowing teams come to Inishmore from all over Connemara and the nearby islands to compete with ancient rowing skills; nowadays the event has taken on a "new" spirit which allows the "fairer sex" to demonstrate their prowess on the sea. State grants are helping to preserve thatched cottages, approximately 2,550 nationwide with 500 of which are found in Connacht. The cottages in the Aran Islands would have been typically made of rye straw and rope. Visitors from Northern Ireland pour into Connacht in their tens of thousands when summer comes to get away from the hustle and bustle. You can still see Connemara funeral groups following the coffins to seaside cemeteries in Carraroe, Co. Galway.

Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 BIRTHS November 22, at Westminster, Grosvenor-road, Rathmines, the wife of R.O. Anderson, Esq., of a daughter. November 24, at 41 Lower Dominick-street, the wife of P. Gibbons of a daughter. MARRIAGES November 29, at the Roman Catholic Church, Borris-in-Ossory, byu the Rev. J. Bi9rch, P.P., William Delany, Esq. of Rathdowney, to Winny, second daughter of James Farrell, Esq., merchant , Borris-in-Ossory. November 23, at the Church of St. John the Baptist, Clontarf, Mr. Joseph H. Keenan, son of Charles Keenan, Esq., of Mary-street, to Theresa, youngest daughter of the late Thomas Collins. November 23, in the Church of St. Andrew, Westland-row, by the Rev. Canon Farrell, Christopher D. Woods, to Mary, Daughter of the late Mr. John Brougham, of Sough Great George's-street. DEATHS November 24, at her residence 4 Merrion-avenue, Blackrock, after a long and painful illness, borne with Christian resignation, in the 68th year of her age, Mrs. Mary Jordan, relief [sic - relict?] of Richard John Jordan, much regretted by her family and friends. May she rest in peace. November 25, at Upper Abbey-street, William Bergin, aged 65 years. May he rest in peace. November 26, at 10 Cole's-lane Market, Mr. James Mullen. May he rest in peace. November 22, at the Convent of Mercy, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Sister Mary Xavier of the Holy Cross, in the 34th year of her age and the 15th of her profession, daughter of the late John Hayden of this city. R.I.P. November 27, Mary, wife of William Owens, Esq., of Shallen County Meath. 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 PROFESSION AND RECEPTION - On the festival of the Presentation, the Convent of our Lady of Mercy in Ardee was the scene of an interesting and edifying demonstration, the profession and reception of two young ladies. The Most Rev. Dr. Kieran, Primate of all Ireland, officiated on the solemn occasion. the young lady professed was Miss Pally, of the county of Down and the lay sister was Miss Mary Callan, youngest daughter of Mr. Thomas Callan, of Shanlis. LAUNCH OF THE STEAM-SHIP "MULLINGAR" - On Wednesday this magnificent steamer was successfully launched from the building-yard of the enterprising firm of Messrs. Walpole, Webb and Bewley, Northwall. She has been built for the City of Dublin Steampacket Company. Lady Esmonde, widow of the late Right Hon. Sir Thomas Esmonde, whose death is recorded, has bequeathed the sum of £30,000 to the board of Trinity College as Trustee, for the purpose of building and endowing a classical school in the county of Waterford. A man named Thomas Francis was arrested on Monday morning at New-street, on suspicion of being a Fenian Centre, and he was conveyed under the Lord Lieutenant's warrant to Kilmainham Prison. BREAD RIOTS AT BELFAST On Saturday evening a serious bread riot occurred here, and although it lasted but for a comparatively short time, there was a considerable amount of damage done. A few weeks ago the journeymen bakers of the town made a demand for higher wages, and threatened to go on strike if their employers did not grant it. After some consultation, the master bakers decided to give an increase, and about the same time they raised the price of bread. This course excited general dissatisfaction among the working classes and proposals were freely mooted in the newspapers and elsewhere for the establishment of one or more bakeries on the co-operative principle to enable householders to purchase bread at a cheaper rate. the employers in several of our large foundries and mills held meetings, at which resolutions were unanimously passed condemning the increase in the price of bread as unjust and oppressive, and pledging the people not to purchase any more bread from the bakers until they could obtain it a lower rate. No general public meeting however, was held and yesterday afternoon, when a large assembly of persons met at Carlisle Circus, a piece of waste ground on the Antrim road, to consider what steps should be taken to reduce the present tariff. The meeting lasted about an hour, and on breaking up portions of the crowd attacked the model bakery. Not more than two or three panes were broken when a small force of constabulary arrived, and drew up in front of the building. The crowd then rushed down the road and did not halt till they came to the bakery of Mr. Trueman, T.C., having broken the glass in the windows, they made a sweep of all the biscuits, confectionary, &c, exposed for sale. By this time all the constabulary in town were on duty, and the mayor and resident magistrates were most active in their exertions to preserve the peace. A cry was then raised, "To the public bakery!" (in Church-street) and accordingly to the public bakery they went. A volley of stones through the windows announced their arrival here. Thereupon some one inside fired among them. They then went to the steam bakery, a large establishment belonging to Marsh & Co. and having smashed the glass, took all the bread they could get. Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/