Dear Friends, I have a very high brick wall. It concerns my ancestor, James Casey born in Ireland. That is my problem -- that's all I know. Even that is precarious, because the only record of James is on his son's death certificate in 1933. Since Eugene's wife was the informant I am assuming she knew about his father's name. The scenario is: Eugene Casey was born April 1847 in Chicago Cook Co Illinois. This is what he states on various documents throughout his life. On some early censuses (1850 & 1860) he is listed as born in Ireland. His own diary states that he never recalls ever seeing his father. I presume his mother died early as by age 2 he was taken to an Aunt in Saint Louis, Missouri and never saw his parents again. The aunt was either Catherine or Margaret GARLAND in St. Louis in 1850. I wondered if one might be a grandmother and the other an aunt. Margaret was the oldest of the two Garlands. I have not been able to track the two ladies in St. Louis, but this was a turbulent and active time in the US Midwest. People were moving around a lot. Eugene was on his own by age 9, he says in his diary, and lost track of his aunt. James Casey, surely would have been young enough to marry again, but with so many James Caseys it is hard to tell which may be him. I don't even know when he was born, although I would estimate 1815-1825. I have not found anything definitive on the passenger lists. Therefore I am wondering how "impossible" it would be to find him in Ireland. No County, no Parish, no area known, to begin to look. The only clue is that he may have married a GARLAND. If any Irish genealogy experts could narrow down a possible place for me to begin to look for him I would sure appreciate the help. Perhaps CASEY is a name common in a certain area? Patricia A. Johnson in Fort Collins, Colorado, USA

Hi Mary -- I tried to help you, but came out confused with info. on the web. There are St. Andrew and St. Andrew's Churches in various locations. What is your resource? Are you sure there is/was a "Monkswood Parish" in Dublin? Did you mean Monkstown Civil Parish, Poor Law Union Rathdown? Looking briefly around the web, I did find Monkswood placename in England and (Wales?) - There is a St. Thomas More & St. Edward Catholic Church, Monkswood Avenue, London, and Monkswood association with Monmouthshire. There is a Monkstown Road in Dublin. There are also some placenames in Ireland called Monkstown and Monktown (see IreAtlas website at http://www.seanruad.com/ or the Leitrim-Roscommon website. Set the townland search to "begins in" Monk.. There is a Monkstown, Dublin resource (Hall of Names Genealogy Centre, Adrian Rowan, Reduit, The Hill, Monkstown, Dublin). Monkstown is an affluent seaside village in south County Dublin, is pleasant, picturesque, home to "Birdwatch Ireland." I didn't see a St. Andrew/St. Andrew's church in Dublin that was Presbyterian, but I may have missed it. There are Church of Ireland Parish Records in Dublin Repositories (and LDS FHC resources) for Monkstown, Co. Dublin: Baptisms, Marriages and Deaths all for years 1669-1800 in a Parish Registry Society Publication, Vol. 6, per John Grenham in "Tracing Your Irish Ancestors." Not sure where you access that publication. . There are St. Andrew Parish (Dublin City) Church of Ireland records with marriages 1672-1800, Parish Registry Society Publication, Vol. 12. There are also marriages (1672-1819) at the National Archives in Dublin reference M.5135. There are also St. Andrew Parish C of I records of baptisms (1694-1803), marriages (1695-1802), and Burials (1694-1796) - extracts only, reference Trinity College Dublin manuscript 2062. There is a St. Andrew's Church, Westland Row, constituted c. 1750 in Dublin City. There is a St. Andrew Church, Suffolk St. & St. Andrews, Dublin, built in Gothic style, designed by Charles LANYON, constructed between 1860-1873, on a site once home to an ancient nunnery, today headquarters for Dublin Tourism Organization. Anything ring a bell? Do you have any other points of reference or names for clues? There are St. Andrew's churches in Northern Ireland. Jean ----- Original Message ----- From: "Doug Connell" <doug.connell@sympatico.ca> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2005 10:29 AM Subject: [IRELAND] ST. ANDREW CHURCH > Hi Listers > My grandfather Robert James Henry Graham was confirmed by the Archbishop of Dublin in St. Andrew Church > possibly Monkswood Parish. in 1857 age about 17 years. > I believe it was a Presb. church. > Any information on where it was located, greatly appreciated > Regards > Mary >

Hi all, Found this in my drafts folder, so forgive me if you have already received this from me. My mail session expire quickly and are often disrupted, leaving some of my mails in drafts and sending others on. Will straighten this out eventually... regards, Jim McNamara http://www.clarelibrary.ie/eolas/library/local-studies/locstudi1.htm Hi all, The above URL is for the Clare Local Studies Project group which is one nice group of writers, editors, and publishers linked to Co. Clare Library site. This is where I got this book, though you can also buy it at Amazon dot com. The full title is: 'Folklore of Clare, A Folklore Survey of County Clare, and County Clare Folk-Tales and Myths', written by T.J. Westropp "Water Spirits and Mer-Folk" "The Shannon, according to the Dindsenchas, derived its name from a sea-lady, but evidently not a 'water-breather.' Sinenn, daughter of Lodan, came from Tir-tairngire, the Land of Youth, under the sea, to visit the well of Connla, under the river now called Shannon. She came to Linn na feile, but was drowned at Tarrchinn 'on this side Shannon,' and gave her name to the great river.(1) A water spirit, or mermaid, is remembered at Killone Lake and Newhall. The legend is preserved in several variants. In 1839 it was told how O'Brien of Killone saw a lovely girl in the lake, and caught her. Bringing her home, he found to his great disgust and disappointment that she had a fish's tail. He ordered her to be kept in a 'crib,' and fed and well-treated. As she never spoke, a local fool threw scalding water on her to make her say something. He was only too successful, for, after a wild, blood-curdling shriek, she cried: 'As the return of the salmon from the stream, A return without blood or flesh, May such be the departure of the O'Briens Like ears of wild corn from Killone.'(2) The legend recorded, almost at the same time (1840), by Crofton Croker was told me by the old peasantry, about 1876, as follows: - A mermaid used to swim up a stream that flowed under the cellars of Newhall, in order to steal wine. The 'master' (an O'Brien), or the butler, hid and stabbed her, (or threw her into a tub of scalding water where she became a big lump of jelly), and her blood ran down the stream and reddened all the lake. As the wounded ["were"] being floated away she wailed: - 'As the water maid floats weak and bloodless down the stream So the O'Briens shall go from Killone.' Prof. Brian O'Loonehy heard in his youth, and told me, a tale nearly identical: - 'As the mermaid goes on the sea, So shall the race of O'Briens pass away Till they leave Killone in wild weeds.' The lake, like the stream already noted at Caherminaun, turns red at times from iron scum and red clay after a dry summer. This is supposed to be caused by the local Undine's blood, and to foretell a change of occupants in Newhall. Strange to say, I saw it happen last when the place was let by MacDonnells to the O'Briens. The cellar at Newhall has its outer section roofed with large slabs, and the inner consists of long, low, cross vaults. In the end of the innermost recess is a built-up square patch, which sound hollow, and is said to show the opening closed to keep out the theivish mermaid. There seems no evidence of any stream running underneath the cellar, but local tradition tells of a vaulted passage down to the lake. Sruhaunaglora (prattling brook), in Kilseily on the flank of the easter hills, probably owes its name, as many brooks their legend, to the supposed talking of water-folk. There was some belief in mer-folk at Kilkee before 1879, but it has nowadays got touched-up for tourists. Such touching-up, however, cannot have affected the ugly, drunken, stupid merrow Coomara (sea-dog), who kept the souls of drowned sailors in magic lobster-pots in his house under the sea, off Killard, as related by Crofton Croker. The merrow's power of passing through the waves depended on a magic cap, and a duplicate of it enabled his human guest to visit him. The last reported appearance of a mermaid is so recent as the end of April, 1910. Several people, including Martin Griffin, my informant. saw what they are firmly convinced was a mer-woman in a cove a little to the north of Spanish Point, near Milltown, Malbay. She was white-skinned and had well-shaped white hands. The partyh tried to make friends with her, giving her bread, which she ate. Then a Quilty fisherman got frightened, said she was 'something bad,' and threw a pebble at her, on which she plunged into the sea and disappeared. Soon afterwards King Edward died. An old man was seen the year of the Great Famine (1846), and that such an appearance foretells a public disaster. (1) 'The Dind Senchas,' Revue Celtique, vol xv. (1894), p. 456 (2) Ordnance Survey Letters, (Co. Clare), vol. ii, p. III." -------------------------- Anyway, can recommend the books I have found through CLASP and this one in particular. Best regards, Jim McNamara Searching: McNAMARA-McGRATH, CLEARY-CONWAY, HANNA(H)-BRADY-McCORMICK-THOMPSON-CAIN-WAUGH-DAVIS-HUNTER

LAST LINES, 1916 The beauty of the world hath made me sad, This beauty that will pass; Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy To see a leaping squirrel in a tree, Or a red ladybird upon a stalk, Or little rabbits in a field at evening, Lit by a slanting sun, Or some green hill where shadows drifted by, Some quiet hill where mountainy man hath sown And soon shall reap near to the gate of Heaven; Or children with bare feet upon the sands Of some ebbed sea, or playing on the streets Of little towns in Connacht, Things young and happy. And then my heart has told me: These will pass, Will pass and change, will die and be no more, Things bright and green , things young and happy; And I have gone upon my way Sorrowful. I have no treasure trove The wealth of fame is gone Even the very joys of love Have vanished and left me alone. Gold I haven't piled Nothing of this I leave behind My wish to be remembered by a child By something said which pleased his mind. Nior cruinniodh liomsa or - I have not garnered gold. -- Dublin-born Padraig Pearse, English and Gaelic-speaking schoolteacher-poet, spent his summers in a small cottage in a place called Rosmuc in Connemara 21 miles SE of Clifden, Galway, where he did most of his writing. As a champion of the clandestine Irish Republican Brotherhood he was later executed for his part in the Easter Rising of 1916 by firing squad. On the eve of his execution, Pearse remembered the beauty of his beloved world. At his trial, the president of the court remarked, "I have had to condemn to death one of the finest characters I have ever come across."

I SAW FROM THE BEACH I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on; I came when the sun from that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone. And such is the fate of our life's early promise, So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave that we danc'd on at morning ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone. Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning The close of our day, the calm eve of our night; Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best light! -- Thomas Moore

Hi Jean I did an e-mail to you last week, however it didn't go through I printed out the history you sent on the Loyal Orange Lodge. and I do appreciate your sending it. I hope this gets through Regards Mary

Hi Listers My grandfather Robert James Henry Graham was confirmed by the Archbishop of Dublin in St. Andrew Church possibly Monkswood Parish. in 1857 age about 17 years. I believe it was a Presb. church. Any information on where it was located, greatly appreciated Regards Mary

Hello all, Is there anybody in the Midleton area of Cork who could let me know the names of Churches and schools in the area in the 1800's as I hope this would help me in the search for my family, thankyou Eileen Researching MCDONALD and LAW in the Cork area

Any information will be appreciated. William and Mary Langley, Loughrea 1840 --1890 Langley children 1840 -- ??, Gort and Loughrea Fahy and McNamara, married to Langley's and Shiel, related to Langley family. Also researching Tannian, Tannyan Tannyane Tanian. In Galway O'connor, Culhane, Madigan in Limerick. Best wishes Bob

Am really trying to figure out this HOLLARON family: Widow, Honora, b. bet.1820-1827 (Was she the widow of Patrick HOLLERON of Tullycrine, Kilmurry-Conderlaw, Co.Clare, Ireland?) She died in Canadaigua, Ontario, NY. Known children are: Margaret, b. 1847; Wm.,b.1848;Ann, b.1854; XX-John b.1851-1855(md. Catherine FLYNN) & d. abt. 1900 in Buffalo, Erie, NY. Also of these same two counties were: Matthew, b. 1830 & Thomas, b. 1827 - How are they related? How are these Hollaran's related?: Patrick Halloran & Honora Culligan of Kilmurry & Buffalo, NY who had children: Honor(md. Mr. Quinn), John, Margaret, Michael, Susan (md. Michael Behen), Mary Ann(md. Simon J.Crotty) & Bridget(md. Martin Crotty. - Would appreciate any help on this family. Thanks, Renee __________________________________ Yahoo! Mail - PC Magazine Editors' Choice 2005 http://mail.yahoo.com

SNIPPET: In 1888, Victorian traveller to Ireland, Englishman Richard LOVETT, referred to an event in history as a "most brilliant exploit performed by Limerick's military hero, SARSFIELD." "When, in 1690, WILLIAM III was marching upon Limerick expecting an easy capture, it was only by SARSFIELD's energy and courage that the resolution was taken to resist to the last. Things looked gloomy indeed for the Irish cause. WILLIAM and his army arrived and pitched their tents; at some distance in the rear followed ammunition trains and supplies, together with some heavy ordnance, and a bridge of ten boats. SARSFIELD, with the skill of a true soldier, saw that his one supreme hope was to destroy the enemy's train. The incident can hardly be better described than in LORD MACAULAY's words: 'A few hours, therefore, after the English tents had been pitched before Limerick, SARSFIELD set forth under cover of the night with a strong body of horse and dragoons. He took the road to Killaloe, and crossed the Shannon there; during the day he lurked with his band in a wild mountain tract named from the silver mines which it contains. He learned in the evening that the detach! ment which guarded the English artillery had halted for the night seven miles from WILLIAM's camp on a pleasant carpet of green turf, and under the ruined walls of an old castle; that officers and men seemed to think themselves perfectly secure; that the beasts had been turned loose, and that even the sentinels were dozing. When it was dark the Irish horsemen quitted their hiding-place, and were conducted by the people of the country to the spot where the escort lay sleeping round the guns. The surprise was complete; some of the English sprang to their arms, and made an attempt to resist, but in vain; about sixty fell, one only was taken alive. The victorious Irish made a huge pile of waggons and pieces of cannon. Every gun was stuffed with powder, and fixed with its mouth in the ground, and the whole mass was blown up. The solitary prisoner, a lieutenant, was treated with great civility by SARSFIELD. 'If I had failed in this attempt,' said the gallant Irishman, 'I sho! uld have been sent off to France.' SARSFIELD returned to Limerick, WILLIAM was compelled to retreat, and it was not until the following year the SARSFIELD honourably capitulated to GINKELL, and retired with a part of his army to France. A fine statue of the general now adorns one of the streets of the city."

Pat - You are wicked! You made me laugh out loud - J. xx ----- Original Message ----- From: "Pat T" <tray@lanset.com> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Thursday, October 27, 2005 2:49 PM Subject: [IRELAND] Donkey Sancturaries > At last! ........ An item about my Irish relatives! > Thanks, Jean.

At last! ........ An item about my Irish relatives! Thanks, Jean. > History says donkeys were first domesticated in Mesopotamia and >Egypt between 3000 and 4000 B.C., and were prized as pack animals for their >intelligence, patience and sure-footedness and because they survive on less >food and protein than horses of similar size. Donkeys can live for 60 years, >although few survive beyond 40............... Jack A.

SNIPPET: Readers of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine shared their thoughts in the Nov-Dec 2005 issue:. Katherine Russell WILSON, Hemet, CA wrote: "I just love your magazine - my son Steve gave me my first copy, after we returned home from Ireland last year. We both fell in love with your country, a place I never thought I would be able to visit. It was made even more special, because I was with family. I look forward to receiving each copy but I can read it all in one day and then I hate to think I have to wait two months before the next one arrives. I'd like a copy every month. I especially like reading all the letters which people send to you about their trips to Ireland and of their family history that brings them to your shores. Are we all realising the dream of our forefathers who could not return to their homeland? When I was growing up in AZ, my mother often spoke about her father, who left Ireland as a child, with his mother and two brothers. They were from Birr, King's County, now Offaly. Most of the information from my mother came in bits and pieces with m! any stories and not a lot of facts; it has been hard to research my roots in Ireland. We visited Cobh, as this is from where my grandfather had left for America. As I stood on the dock and looked out to sea, I felt I could see the ghost ships leaving with so many Irishmen for so many different countries, never to return. How sad, that they were leaving loved ones behind knowing they would never see them or their homeland again. In Birr, we visited St. Brendan's Catholic Church where I found records of the MANNION family - their dates of birth and where they lived. It's not easy to explain the emotions one feels seeing a true record like this; I just wish that I could have shared it with my mother and wished my grandfather had known that I made the journey back to his home. Birr is a great town to visit and Birr Castle is a must-see. It has the largest telescope in the world in its grounds; it still looks and moves just like it did over 150 years ago. I would like to ! go back to Ireland in a heartbeat. I'd like to come back to research my other grandfather's family, the RUSSELLs, who left Antrim back in the 1800s, however I don't know where they left from, so I just wish there was an easy way to do this research.". The editor suggested she contact the Ulster-American Folk Park Centre for Migration Studies.. Roger PETERSON, Ossining, NY shared: "After reading your wonderful magazine, I would like to find out one thing - what is a shillelagh? In your article about County Antrim, you say that Victor McLAGLEN in his part in 'The Quiet Man,' carried a shillelagh. But all I've ever seen him with is a rosewood walking stick. I was always told that a shillelagh was about two feet long with a knob on the end. Please let me know that I'm walking with a shillelagh and not a walking stick? I have been using this rosewood cane since 1975, following a car accident in 1974. This stick has helped me get around. My mother Kitty GRAHAM was born in Co. Cork around 1899. She married a Swede in the 'Roaring Twenties.' My lsat trip to Ireland was in 1993 and I can't wait to get there again. Everyone was so nice and polite, no matter where you went - day or night - and it was always as clean as a whistle. Your magazine is great and it makes you feel like you are in the heart of the Irish! world." The editor wrote - "A shillelagh is indeed a walking stick with a knob on the end, it is traditionally made from Blackthorn and the natural growth of the wood gives its distinctive style, so no two shillelaghs are the same." John SAUNDERS, Argyle, NY wrote: "I've been receiving IOTW since 1972, when my company was doing business with Neodata headquarters, in Limerick. My gggrandfather came to America from Northern Ireland and I've visited there many times and will visit again soon. Unfortunately, I've lost contact with Mike McMAHON from Neodata but I hope to get in touch with him again on my next visit."

SNIPPET: The winter of 1846/47 was extremely harsh. Snow fell in early November and there was continuous frost. Local relief committees, comprised of the local magistrate, Roman Catholic priest, Protestant clergyman, the Poor Law Guardians and the three largest ratepayers, who had been up to then selling meal at market prices, were informed by the government that they were to distribute free soup from January onwards. The setting up of soup kitchens was not a new idea. The Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) had set up central relief committees in Dublin and London in November 1846. These committees collected information from agents around the country with regard to the hardest hit areas. Leitrim was in a "fearful measure of distress" according to the Board of Works Inspector, Captain LAYARD and advocated that soup shops be established at every police barracks throughout the country. The Quakers collected funds to set up soup kitchens themselves and also sent funds to local relief committees to do likewise in their areas. The Quakers made the largest contribution of 15 pounds towards the establishment of a soup kitchen in Manorhamilton in February 1847. The local relief committee donated 4 pounds, Mr. TOTTENHAM of Glenfarne Hall donated 5 pounds and Mrs. TOTTENHAM 2 pounds. This money was to go towards buying boilers and strainers and the buying of foodstuffs. This outdoor relief, given to persons who were not inmates of the workhouse, was preferable to going into the workhouse, where the family would have to give up its plot of land and be segregated. People were encouraged to continue to tend their land. At a Manorhamilton Board of Guardians meeting in April 1847, it was agreed that any person holding more than one acre of land should not be entitled to outdoor relief unless the land was cultivated. The soup kitchen distributed the soup on two conditions: (1) That the application for relief should be made in person, with the exception of the sick and elderly. (2) That the relief should be in the form of cooked food so that it could not exchanged or sold. The term "soup: soon came to mean anything cooked in a boiler and distributed in a liquid state, thick or thin. Doubts were soon expressed as to the soup's nutritional value and many doctors were of the opinion that all the soup kitchens did was simply prevent the people dying of starvation. The soup comprised of basically the same recipe: One oxhead, without the tongue 28 lb turnips 3.5 lbs onion 7 lbs carrots 21 lb pea meal 14 lb Indian cornmeal These ingredients were boiled in a strainer which sat into the boiler and when cooked, sufficiently or not, they were lifted out and strained, the liquid "soup" being left behind. Each ration was to consist of 1 lb biscuit, meal or flour or 1 quart of soup, thickened with meal and 4 oz of bread or biscuit. For a people used to a staple diet of potatoes and milk or buttermilk, this soup did not compensate. The method of distribution at the soup kitchens was very degrading and was hated by the recipients. Each person was required to bring a bowl, pot or tin and stand in line until the soup was ladled into it. Dysentery, and infection of the intestine was rife in Manorhamilton throughout 1847. A highly infectious bacterial disease, it was passed from person to person. With overcrowding in the workhouses and through the close contact of people in the soup kitchens there was little wonder that it spread so quickly and caused so many deaths. Originally intended to be an emergency measure, outdoor relief continued throughout the 1847, 1848 and into the late summer of 1849. At the end of September 1849, the Manorhamilton committee struck off all the recipients of outdoor relief except the old and the ill. The committee offered admission tickets to the workhouse in which there was room at that time. The steaming apparatuses and boilers used by the relief committee were auctioned on 1 Nov 1849. In early January 1850, there were just fifty people on outdoor relief in the whole of the Manorhamilton Union. A strainer, said to have been used in Manorhamilton during the famine year, is now on display in the County Sligo Agricultural Museum in Riverstown. -- Excerpts, "Leitrim Guardian" yearly magazine (1996)

DONKEYS They are not silent like work-horses Who are happy or indifferent about the plow and wagon; Donkey's don't submit like that For they are sensitive And cry continually under their burdens; Yes, they are animals of sensibility Even if they aren't intelligent enough To count money or discuss religion. Laugh if you will when they hee-haw But know that they are crying When they make that noise that sounds like something Between a squawking water-pump and a fog-horn. And when I hear them sobbing I suddenly notice their sweet eyes and ridiculous ears And their naive bodies that look as though they never grew up But stayed children, as in fact they are; And being misunderstood as children often are They are forced to walk up mountains With men and bundles on their backs. Somehow I am glad That they do not submit without a protest; But as their masters are of the deafest The wails are never heard. I am sure that donkeys know what life should be But alas, they do not own their bodies; and if they had their own way, I am sure That they would sit in a field of flowers Kissing each other, and maybe They would even invite us to join them. For they never let us forget that they know (As everyone knows who stays as sweet as children) That there is a far better way to spend time; You can be sure of that when they stop in their tracks And honk and honk and honk. And if I tried to explain to them Why work is not only necessary but good, I am afraid that they would never understand And kick me with their back legs As commentary on my wisdom. So they remain unhappy and sob And their masters who are equally convinced of being right Beat them and hear nothing. -- "Donkeys" from "Stand Up, Friend With Me," by Edward Field, 1963. Edward Field was born in 1924 in NYC, contributed regularly to the "Evergreen Review." Donkeys have been an intregal part of Ireland. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jean R." <jeanrice@cet.com> To: <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Wednesday, October 26, 2005 11:53 AM Subject: [IRELAND] Donkey Sancturaries - England & Liscarroll, Co. Cork <snip>

SNIPPET: History says donkeys were first domesticated in Mesopotamia and Egypt between 3000 and 4000 B.C., and were prized as pack animals for their intelligence, patience and sure-footedness and because they survive on less food and protein than horses of similar size. Donkeys can live for 60 years, although few survive beyond 40; a donkey gelding, or jennet, is a useful guard animal for cattle, sheeps or goats, especially against canine marauders. The donkey is actually a relative newcomer to Ireland and there is no record of donkeys being there prior to 1780. Irish donkeys average between 10 and 14 hands and range in colour from black, brown and grey to cream, frosted or spotted white. True horse pinto, horse appaloosa, palomino and buckskin does not occur in donkeys. Like the bog pony, donkey numbers declined after mechanisation of farms, emigration and The Famine. Among those stepping forward to help or advocate for donkeys was Dr. Elisabeth D. SVENDSEN, MBE, who founded The Donkey Sanctuary in England in 1969. The Sanctuary's aim is "to prevent suffering of donkeys worldwide through high quality, professional advice, training and support on donkey welfare." In 1987, she joined forces with an Irish donkey sanctuary in Liscarroll, Co. Cork, and since then the two facilities have taken in more than 11,000 donkeys. The Irish sanctuary was started in the 1920s by Paddy BARRETT's grandfather on his 35-acre farm i! n Liscarroll. Paddy and his father both worked for the Irish Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ISPCA) before working with donkeys and that devotion to animal rescue still runs in their family. Working with Paddy, who is now the Liscarroll Sanctuary manager, are his wife and daughters. A second farm, not open to the public, was purchased nearby in 1996, adding another 70 acres to the Sanctuary's Irish holdings and providing space for a new veterinary hospital and fields for newly-arrived donkeys and others that need special care. Some 380 donkeys are housed between the two farms and another 640 are in foster homes around the country. Dr. Eamon WALSH, the on-staff vet for the Liscarroll Sanctuary, says the operating facility in the vet hospital is "second to none in the country." High tech testing and screening can be done on site now, so diagnoses are given accurately and quickly. In addition, the Sanctuary has launched school, library and youth education p! rogrammes. Because they are sociable creatures, donkeys seek companionship of their own kind and form strong bonds. Pairs that arrive together are kept together and the staff tries to pair up single donkeys when they arrive at Liscarroll. One Sanctuary resident - a large, timid sheep named Ivy - came in from Co. Wexford with her friends, donkeys Nellie and Tess - and stayed. In the UK and Ireland, permanent sanctuary is now provided to any donkey in need of refuge and, the Sanctuary charter guarantees, "the right of life, regardless of age or health, and the best possible treatment, care and drugs to preserve life to the maximum." Excerpts, "Sure-Footed Survivors," Judy ENRIGHT's article about donkeys, Kerry bog ponies and Irish Draught Horses, w/photos and drawings, Nov-Dec 2005 issue Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine. More information - www.thedonkeysanctuary.ie

I am a history buff and no comparison of history interests me more than an event reported by two sides of the Atlantic Ocean. When the German, the Scot, the Welsh, the Irish, the Swedish, the English, and emigrants from a dozen other countries, who for the day put their nationalities aside to band together in common cause, to challenge and defeat the minions of a tyrant King. In those days New England and Ireland had a lot in common. This is about the battle of Lexington in which my grandma said 3/4th of the british forces were killed or wounded. Battle of Lexington, April 19, 1775. The Fight at Lexington. A Ballad of Massachusetts by Thomas Dunn English Tugged the patient, panting horses, as the coulter keen and thorough, By the careful farmer guided, cut the deep and even furrow; Soon the mellow mould in ridges, staightly pointing as an arrow, Lay to wait the bitter vexing of the fierce, remorseless harrow - Lay impatient for the seeding, for the growing and the reaping; All the richer and the readier for the quiet winter-sleeping. And his loom the pallid weaver, with his feet upon the treadles, Watched the threads alternate rising, with the lifting of the heddles - Not admiring that, so swiftly, at his eager fingers' urging, Flew the bobbin-loaded shuttle 'twixt the filaments diverging - Only labor dull and cheerless in the work before him seeing, As the warp and woof uniting brought the figures into being. Roared the fire before the bellows, glowed the forge's dazzling crater Rang the hammers on the anvil, both the lesser and the greater; Fell the sparks around the smithy, keeping rhythm to the clamor, To the ponderous blows and clanging of each unrelenting hammer; While the diamonds of labor, from the curse of Adam borrowed, Glittered like a crown of honor, on each iron-beater's forehead. Through the air there came a whisper, deepening quickly into thunder, How the deed was done that morning, that would rend the realm assunder; How at Lexington the Briton mingled causeless crime with folly, And a king endangered empire by an ill-considered volley. Then each heart beat quick for vengeance, as the anger-stirring story Told of brethren and of neighbors lying corses stiff and gory. Stops the plow and sleeps the shuttle, stills the blacksmith's noisy hammer, Come the farmer, smith, and weaver, with a wrath too deep for clamor; But their fiercely-purposed doing every glance they give avouches, As they hurry from the work-shops, from the fields and from the forges. Venting curses deep and bitter on the latest of the Georges. Matrons gather at the portals, some with children round them grouping, Some are filled with exultation, some are sad of soul and drooping - Gazing at our hasty levies as they march unskilled but steady, Or prepare their long-kept firelocks, for the combat making ready - Mingling smiles with tears, and praying for our men and those who lead them, That the gracious Lord of Battles to a triumph sure may speed them. I was but a beardless stripling on that chilly April morning, When the church-bells backward ringing, to the minute-men gave warning; But I seized my father's weapons - he was dead who one-time bore them - And I swore to use them stoutly, or to nevermore restore them; Bade farewell to sister, mother and to one then even dearer, Then departed as the firing told of red-coats drawing nearer. On the Britons came from Concord - 'twas a name of mocking omen; Concord nevermore existed 'twixt our people and the foemen - On they came in haste from Concord where a few had stood to fight them, Where they failed to conquer Buttrick who had stormed the bridge despite them; On they came, the tools of tyrants, 'mid a people who abhorred them; They had done their master's bidding, and we purposed to reward them. We, at Meriam's Corner posted, heard the fifing and the drumming, In the distance creeping onward, which prepared us for their coming; Soon we saw the lines of scarlet, their advance to music timing. When our captain quickly bade us pick our flints and freshen priming. There our little band of freemen, couched in silent ambush lying, Watched the forces, full eight hundred, as they came with colors flying. Twas a goodly sight to see them; but we heeded not its splendor, For we felt their martial bearing hate within our hearts engender, Kindling fire within our spirits, though our eyes a moment watered, As we thought on Moore and Hadley, and their brave companions slaughtered; And we swore to deadly vengeance for the fallen to devote them, And our rage grew hotter, hotter, as our well-aimed bullets smote them. Then in overpowering numbers, charging bayonet, came their flankers; We were driven as the ships are, by a tempest, from their anchors; But we loaded while retreating, and regaining other shelter, Saw their proudest on the highway, in their life's blood fall and welter, Saw them fall or dead or wounded, at our fire so quick and deadly, While the dusty road was moistened with the torrent raining redly. >From behind the mounds and fences poured the bullets thickly, fastly; >From ravines and clumps of coppice leapt destruction grim and ghastly; All around our leaguers hurried, coming hither, going thither, Yet when charged on by their forces, disappearing, none knew whither; Buzzed around the hornets ever, newer swarms each moment springing, Breaking, rising and returning, yet continually stinging. When to Hardy's Hill their weary, waxing-fainter footsteps brought them, There again the stout Provincials brought the wolves to bay and fought them; And though often backward beaten still returned the foe to follow, Making forts of every hill-top and redoubts to every hollow. Hunters came from every farm-house, joining eagerly to chase them - They had boasted far too often that we ne'er would dare to face them. How they staggered, how they trembled, how they panted at pursuing, How they hurried broken columns that had marched to their undoing; How their stout commander, wounded, urged along his frightened forces, That had marked their fearful progress, by their comrades' bloody corses; How they rallied, how they faltered, how in vain returned our firing. While we hung upon their footsteps with a zealousness untiring. With nine hundred came Lord Percy, sent by startled Gage to meet them, And he scoffed at those who suffered such a horde of boors to beat them; But his scorn was changed to anger, when on front and flank were falling, >From the fences, walls and roadside, drifts of leaden hail appalling; And his picked and chosen soldiers, who had never shrunk in battle, Hurried quicker in their panic when they heard the firelocks rattle. Tell it not in Gath, Lord Percy, never Ascalon let hear it, That you fled from those you taunted as devoid of force and spirit; That the blacksmith, weaver, farmer, leaving forging, weaving, tillage, Fully paid with coin of bullets base marauders from their pillage; They, you said, would fly in terror, Britons and their bayonets shunning; But the loudest of the boasters proved the foremost in the running. Then round Prospect Hill they hurried, where we followed and assailed them; They had stout and tireless muscles, or their limbs had surely failed them. Stood abashed the bitter Tories, as the women loudly wondered - That a crowd of scurvy rebels chase to hold eleven hundred, Chased to hold eleven hundred, grenadiers both light and heavy, Leading Percy of the Border, on a chase surpassing Chevy. Into Boston marched their forces, musket-barrels brightly gleaming, Colors flying, sabres flashing, drums were beating, fifes were screaming. Not a word about their journey; from the General to the drummer, Did you ask about their doings, than a statue each was dumber; But the wounded in their litters, lying pallid, weak and gory, With a language clear and certain, told the sanguinary story. 'Twas a dark and bloody lesson; it was bloody work to teach it; But when sits on high Oppression, soaring fire alone can reach it. Though but raw and rude Provincials, we were freemen, and contending For the rights our fathers gave us, and a country worth defending; And when foul invaders threaten wrong to hearthstone and to altar, Shame were on the freeman's manhood should he either fail or falter. On the day the fight that followed, neighbor met and talked with neighbor; First the few who fell they buried, then returned to daily labor. Glowed the fire within the forges, ran the plowshare down the furrow, Clicked the bobbin-loaded shuttle - both our fight and toil was thorough; If we labored in the battle, or the shop or forge or fallow, Still there came an honest purpose, casting round our deeds a halo. Though they strove again, these minions of Germaine and North and Gower, They could never make the weakest of our band before them cower; Neither England's bribes or soldiers, force of arms nor titles splendid, Could deprive of what our fathers left as rights to be defended; And the flame from Concord spreading, kindled kindred conflagrations Till the Colonies United took their place among the nations. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth History & Genealogy Janice Farnsworth _http://tfeeney.esmartbiz.com/janice.htm_ (http://tfeeney.esmartbiz.com/janice.htm) and Toni Feeney _http://www.tfeeney.esmartbiz.com/page7.htm_ (http://www.tfeeney.esmartbiz.com/page7.htm)

Hello As a new subscriber I would like to post my interests:- NELL WOOD both from the 1800's Margaret larjos@calisa.wanadoo.co.uk

Lots of stumbling blocks. Wouldn't it have been nice if what public official had asked and recorded "And where were you from in Ireland?"