THE LOVER MOURNS FOR THE LOSS OF LOVE Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day And saw your image was there; She has gone weeping away. -- William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

SNIPPET: ..."As we were a large family and were not the possessors of a big farm, it was essential to cultivate every bit of arable land possible. We were surrounded by acres of common land and "shroicks" or rough land, where heather and wild grass and rushes grew in abundance. Certain families had a share in this so-called no-man's-land with only a bog-hole or stream to mark its boundaries. So when cattle were put to graze on these strips of land, they had to be constantly watched to keep them confined to their own piece of grazing. It was a monotonous chore for us children so it was up to ourselves to find a way of relieving the boredom. There were plenty of bog holes to jump, and also flax holes. These were relics of bygone times, when flax was grown locally and had to be seasoned in deep holes in the marshes. They were now death traps, rumoured to be bottomless, and we were forever being warned against playing near these swally-holes, as they were called. We were also told that a monster called the alpluchor lived in those holes and that he was always waiting for man or beast to drop in so he could feast on their hearts, his favourite food. We listened, but we did not always obey. The hot summer sun baked the crust that formed on the green, spongy, bubbling mass of fungi in the holes. It was like a witch's cauldron, and my brothers and I would take a running jump, landing in the middle of this crust. It would sink with the weight of our bodies, and up again it would pop, propelling us to the other side. We had found a perfect trampoline, and as we were out of sight of our homes, our parents were not aware of the danger we courted. When the small rivers ran shallow in hot water, we would build a "courigh," or barrier, with stones and "clauber" -- damp pieces of grassy earth from the river bank - to stay the flow of water. We would put lime into a sack, then secure the sack between the stones with the bag mouth opening into the flow of water. When the water volume built up, fish unwittingly became trapped in the bag. The lime stunned them and we would take the trout home to be fried in home-made butter ..." - Excerpt, "An Irish Country Childhood, A Bygone Age Remembered" (biography), Marrie Walsh, dedicated to the memory of her late husband, Tom. Marrie was born under the shadow of the Ox Mountains in Attymass, Co. Mayo, in 1929, the ninth child of a large farming family.

Joseph WARD marr. Catty KING 1779 Ardee Louth. Family - Peter, Nelly, James, John, Mary, Bernard & Jams. Catherine HENRAN bn abt 1805 Dublin and went to Tasmania before 1834. Patrick McGRATH marr. Margaret ?? abt 1820 Limerick. One known daughter, Mary Ann bn 1828 Limerick and went to Australia before 1850. Anyone know anything about these names? Judith

SNIPPET: The faded elegance of New Orleans, the houses with their ornate iron balconies and long-shuttered windows; the glimpse of courtyards hung with jasmine, is very different from Ireland and yet James GALLIER, one of the city's most influential architects had come from County Louth and his father was the builder of Anaverna, the house where Melosina LENOX-CONYNGHAM was brought up. Now residing in Kilkenny and regularly broadcasting for RTE radio, this well-known authoress has written an interesting article entitled 'From Ravensdale to New Orleans' (with colorful photos and drawings) in the May-June 2006 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine. "James GALLIER was born in Ravensdale in 1798. The GALLAGHERs, (it was only when James arrived in America that he called himself GALLIER, claiming a French descent for the family) had been established in the area for several generations. His father, Patrick, was a builder whose two big commissions were Anaverna for BARON McCLELLAND and Mourne Park on the other side of Carlingford Lough for LORD KILMOREY, the proprietor of Newry. Patrick GALLAGHER also acted as builder and engineer for the linen bleaching mils on the Flurryriver and with a farm he rented, he made a comfortable living until the defeat of the French at Waterloo when there was a serious agricultural depression and the linen trade was in decline. James was the eldest son of a family of thirteen. He learnt to read and write at a small local school 'in a miserable cottage of one apartment that served as kitchen, parlour, bedroom for the master and his family.' as well as school .... " (You can learn more about his career by reading Melosina's interesting article, enjoy the beautiful photo of Claret Rock, the small country house on the border of counties Louth and Armagh designed by James when he was just 20, etc.) Briefly, this talented young man studied architectural drawing. His first solo commission was constructing a waterwheel for the spade factory in Ravensdale. James worked on Grange Church, Co. Louth before he emigrated. In New Orleans, commissions included St. Patrick's Church. He built many public buildings in New Orleans to include the Post Office, the Exchange, City Hall, and the Greek revival building known today as Gallier Hall. His son, also named James GALLIER, also became a distinguished architect in New Orleans and designed the opera house. In retirement, James GALLIER Sr. took to travelling. In 1866, when returning to New Orleans on the steamer 'Evening Star,' the ship was lost in a hurricane off Cape Hatteras. Along with many other prominent people from New Orleans and the members of a French opera troupe, James and his wife perished in the disaster. There is a fine monument in the St. Louis Cemetery designed by the son to commemorate him. (I only hope the buildings have survived the latest disaster to befall New Orleans!)

SNIPPET: Gaeltacht is the collective name for areas where Irish is spoken. In 1922 Irish was still the general medium of communication in parts of Cos. Waterford, Cork, Kerry, Galway, Mayo, and Donegal. Scattered pockets of Irish speakers in Cos. Louth, Kilkenny, and Clare were not considered true Gaeltacht. Native governments have given the Gaeltacht preferential treatment, including grants for Irish-speaking children, employment schemes, and since 1979 a development authority. In 1970 a radiostation for the Gaeltacht was established with headquarters in Costello, Co. Galway. The decline in the numbers of Irish speakers continued, however, and by the 1980s the actual areas of Irish speech were considerably less than the official Gaeltacht. Indeed many now fear that the true Gaeltacht is on the verge of extinction. The Irish of the Gaeltacht has been studied in detail by FINCK (1899), QUIGGIN (1906), SOMMERFELT (1922), SJOESTEDT-JONVAL (1931), WAGNER (1958-69), and others. The Gaeltacht has produced many writers in Irish, for example, Tomas O'CRIOMHTHAIN (1856-1937) from Kerry, Mairtin O CADHAIN (1907-70) from Galway, and Seosamh MAC GRIANNA (1901-93) from Donegal. In the 1930s some Gaeltacht families were resettled in the province of Leinster. The Irish-speaking community in Rath Carn, Co. Meath, is still fairly vigorous in the 1990s. -- Nicholas WILLIAMS, Lecturer in Irish, University College, Dublin.

SNIPPET: In the 9th century, figures began to appear along with decorative designs on Irish crosses. This stylistic change was probably based on cultural influences, per "British Heritage" periodical. The movement for reform within the Church put a new emphasis on biblical events as models for behavior. Also, the frequency of Viking raids on Ireland evoked appeals to God, which was reflected on the crosses in portrayals as God's assistance to His chosen people. Clonmacnois, in County Offaly, was one of the most famous monasteries of the pre-Norman era. Today, its peaceful setting is littered with remnants of monastic churches, round towers, grave slabs (one of the best collections in Ireland) and high crosses. The South Cross is part of the transitional period; there are bosses and mouldings and remains of what may once have been cap, it is also covered with spirals, protuberances and interlacings and has a crucifixion panel on the western side. Two crosses at Castledermot in County Kildare exhibit transitional features that include on the South Cross, rich decorative design on one face while the opposite face has a crucifixion in a central position within a ring of a wide range of biblical scenes. The North Cross is similar except that scenes cover both sides. The fall of man occupies the central ring position on one side and the crucifixion on the other. The South Cross at Kells in County Meath probably predates both the Clonmacnois South Cross and the Castledermot crosses and can be classified as a transitional cross, combining biblical scenes with large areas of decorative designs. Known as the cross of Saints Patrick and Columba, this cross is one of the four remaining at Kells. The site is probably best remembered for the "Books of Kells," one of the most beautifully illuminated manuscripts ever produced and now housed in Trinity College Library, in Dublin. This particular Kells high cross seems to echo the ornamentation of the "Book of Kells": abstract designs as well as interlaced and intertwined birds and animals. Even the biblical scenes seem to be more ornamentation than portrayals of events. Carved in low relief with abstract designs in between, they seem to run into each other in the same continuous way the interlacings do. The high cross at Moone in County Kildare is unique. Possessing none of the flowing, continuous lines of the Kells Cross of Saints Patrick and Columba, the Moone cross is one of flat relief and stripped-down detail. The charm, humor, and originality of this particular cross sets it apart from others of the same period. On the base of the cross beneath the scene of the crucifixion are pictured the 12 apostles: armless, geometric figures standing in three rows of four, one row above the other, looking like acrobats on each other's shoulders. The other scenes all show the same originality of design: a bulbous-nosed, dour Abraham sacrifices his son, Isaac, while the calf that will be substituted for Isaac hovers just above him; a goggle-eyed, somewhat bewildered-looking Daniel stands armless in the midst of seven lions who look more like kittens than fierce lions. Spanning the period from the mid-9th century into the 10th century are the masterpiece crosses that represent the fullest development of the high cross. They are distinguished by having the ornamentation confined to the ring and sides of the cross, and their biblical scenes are highly organized into a logical sequence. Usually, the crucifixion occupies the center of the ring on one side with New Testament scenes presented in the panels. Christ in judgment typically occupies the center of the ring's reverse side and is surrounded by panels of Old Testament scenes. The high cross at Durrow in County Offaly is a good example of this. Christ's crucifixion is portrayed in the center of the cross's west side. On the other side we see Christ in majesty looking very much like the Egyptian god of the dead, Osiris. The sides of the Durrow cross carry scenes as well as designs. There is a particularly lovely illustration of the flight into Egypt, showing a worried Joseph holding his chin. Walking in front of him is Mary, holding the Christ child on her back. Kells boast two high cross that fall into the masterpiece category; the West Cross and the Market Cross. Standing in the churchyard close to the earlier cross of Saints Patrick and Columba, all that remains of the West Cross is the bottom half of what once must have been one of the most magnificent of the high crosses. What is left is enough to show the quality of the carving. There is an interesting depiction of Noah's ark with Noah and his sons peering through the windows. There is also a panel of Christ's baptism in the river Jordan: John the Baptist pours water from a spoon over Christ's head while two spectators witness the event. Kells Market Cross stands a short distance from the churchyard where the other three Kells high crosses are situated. It may once have marked the limits of the sanctuary of the Kells monastery. The upper part of this cross is damaged and there is a legend that it once served as the town gallows. The carving covering the entire cross, including the base, is remarkable. Monasterboice in County Louth is rich in reminders of the early days of the Church in Ireland. The site, one of the foremost monastic establishments in pre-Norman Ireland, boasts two churches, several early tombstones, a round tower and what many consider to be the finest surviving example of a high cross. The carving of Muirdach's Cross, both the scenes on the east and west faces as well as the abstract interlacing and vine scrolls, is remarkable. The sculptor was a master in perfect control of his medium. He knew both how to organize his scenes for effect and how to execute them with skill. But it is the amount of detail in each panel that make the cross such a masterpiece. One example is the Christ in Judgment depicted in the ring. Assembled on Christ's right are the blessed praising him to the accompaniment of David's harp. On Christ's left the damned troop off to hell, prodded along by Satan's trident and the kick of an energetic assistant devil. Below Christ's feet the archangel Michael weighs a soul while a demon attempts to tip the scale in Satan's favor. The period of the masterpiece crosses was followed by a century in which the quality of the carving declined. Biblical scenes disappeared to be replaced by high-relief carvings of Christ, often accompanied by a bishop or abbot. Most characteristic of these late crosses is the general absence of the carving that distinguished the crosses of preceding centuries. One of the latest high crosses Dysert O'Dea, in County Clare, is also one of the most unusual. Though it has the characteristic 12th century high-relief carving of the crucifixion and an abbot (perhaps St. Tola), it is completely ringless. The carving is so sparse and free of decoration that the cross appears modern. The low-relief carving covering the reverse side barely emerges from the stone. In a way, the high crosses had come full circle, from the stark simplicity of an early pillar with a cross design to the simplicity of a monumental piece of stone, bearing one or two high-relief carvings. The era of the Irish high cross ended with the high-relief crosses. Although the Irish landscape was once profusely dotted with these stone monuments, today perhaps less than 100 remain and may of these are in fragments. But the few survivors bear noble witness to the era that produced them

SNIPPET: Recent studies of American origins have forced historians to revise the conventional picture of the colonists as English. Only 60.9% of colonial Americans came from England. Another 14.3% were Scots and Scotch-Irish from Northern Ireland, 8.7% were German, 5.8% were Dutch, 3.7% were southern Irish, and 6.6% miscellaneous. Apparently there were 540,000 blacks - most of them slaves. Religion was also varied. America boasted 749 Congregational churches, 485 Presbyterian, 457 Baptist, 406 Anglican, 328 Dutch or German Reformed, 240 Lutheran and 56 Catholic. There were also 200 Quaker meetinghouses and 5 synagogues. There was often hostility among the denominations. Catholics were tolerated only in MD and PA. Quakers were not welcomed in most of New England. Presbyterians regarded Anglicans as a threat to their religious freedom because they talked of bringing bishops to America to set up an established church as in England. Well-to-do colonial families spent a great deal of money on clothes and education for their children. Families were large - eight children was not unusual. There were few public schools outside New England, and tuition at private schools was high. Singing, dancing, the playing of musical instruments, concert-going and quilting were favorite recreations. Thomas JEFFERSON played the violin. Benjamin FRANKLIN the guitar, harp, and violin. Patrick HENRY played the violin, the lute, the flute and the piano! The impression, then, that Americans of the revolutionary era were poor is incorrect. Each of the 13 colonies, a highly stratified, class-conscious society already existed. In the northern colonies, the wealthiest 10% of the population owned about 45% of the property. In many parts of the South, 10% of the taxpayers possessed 75% of the wealth. This was not surprising, as the colonies had been in existence for 150 years when the Revolution began - more than enough time for the talented and ambitious to acquire money and land. In the 1770s George WASHINGTON was a typical member of the upper class, thanks in part to his marriage to wealthy Martha Dandridge CUSTIS. He owned 12,463 acres of VA farmland and 24,103 unimproved acres in the western wilderness along the Kanawha and Ohio rivers. On his farms he kept 130 horses and maintained 135 slaves, and earned as much as 3,213 pounds a year from his various crops - a fortune compared with the landless laborer's income of 30 pounds. WASHINGTON paid a thousand dollars (the equivalent of $50,000 today) for a spinet for his granddaughter, Nelly CUSTIS. Wealth was also dispersed widely through the rest of the population. About 40% of the people were independent farmers who lived in considerable comfort. When artisans, shopkeepers were added to this group, they made up a thriving middle class whose members typically owned property worth about 400 pounds. One prosperous craftsman in Charleston, SC, spent 313 pounds a year to live in genteel fashion and educate his two sons at a private school. It took about 500 pounds a year for a family to feel well-to-do. Skilled workers such as carpenters earned from 45 to 90 pounds a year. Schoolteachers were wretchedly paid, as little as 30 pounds a year, unless, like Nathan HALE, they taught at an academy or private school. Harvard paid its professors 100 pounds a year, one-eighth the salary of a judge. Yale paid its president 150 pounds a year, considerably less than the owner of a prosperous tavern made. Ministers did somewhat better, as did doctors. Near the top of the economic pyramid were lawyers. Boston attorneys often made 2,000 to 3,000 pounds a year. At the very top were merchants, who spent money as freely as they made it. The ultimate sign of wealth was an "equipage" - a coach drawn by four matched horses, with servants in livery riding outside. There were no fewer than 84 of these elaborate vehicles in Philadelphia - 30 of them owned by supposedly "unworldly" Quakers! In the cities, indigents and men temporarily out of work were placed in almshouses. In New England, "going on the town" was considered a catastrophe among the poor. At the town meeting, the selectmen "bid off" the indigent to whoever would hire them - a procedure almost as humiliating as a slave auction. Newspapers were full of ads for slaves who had run away. Rewards were offered for their capture. Indentured servants also ran away regularly. Excerpts, "Liberty! The American Revolution," Thomas Fleming (1997)

HOMEBOY Taken from his mother at birth and reared in the County Home, left with strangers on a farm at fourteen, there was no time for education. A life of slavery lay before him, working for abusive farming men and women. He grew old in his youth, suffering backache from hard work and wettings as he laboured at every job he was given. Sleeping in lofts, cattle gave heat to his tired body night after night. The farmers he had slaved for know nothing of his whereabouts. In his sixties, on a week's holiday paid for by the St. Vincent De Paul, he enjoys the company of women, and is overcome when given a present of a book, or a woman asks for his address. Never before getting as much as a Christmas card, this old man seems cared for, happy in Knock. -- Mary Guckian, "Perfume of the Soil," Swan Press/1999.

1. "The Nana In The Chair and the Tales She Told, An Anecdotal Biography of Mary Dunne WARE (1860-1956)," by Edward C. McMANUS (AuthorHouse p/b). Per review - "The author met his grandmother in the 1940s and listened to her stories through the mid-fifties while he shared his family's pleasure in caring for a fascinating, gentle lady with a remarkable memory. The fact that she was blind did little to depress her spirits. She must have been a pleasure to know. A book to enjoy." ISBN 1-4184-4806-0 p/b. 2. "And So I Did, A Northern Irish Memoir," by Patricia SHEEHAN (Infinity Publishing.com, p/b.). "This is a delightful account of a girl who was 14 in 1956 when she left Belfast for Los Angeles with her family. The book ends as she enters her 20s when she meets the young man whom she is eventually to marry. She gives an extremely vivid account of the life of a Catholic working-class family in Belfast. Her description of how brilliantly they all adapt to life in the U. S. is equally exciting. Patricia SHEEHAN is a gifted writer, she transports the reader right into the middle, with the sight, sound, taste and the very smell of the event she is recalling. Definitely worth tracking down this book." ISBN 0-7414-1725-1 3. "Buried Memories," by David MARCUS (Mercier Press p/b). "David MARCUS is owed a great debt by readers of books. He has edited over 30 collections of poetry and short-stories, founded literary publications, and been a most influential Literary Editor with a popular Irish newspaper, sadly now defunct. We are greatly blessed to have him amongst us. Now in his early 80s he has written a delightful second volume of his splendid autobiography." My note - sounds like he has a connection to Cork. ISBN 1-86023-157-8. 4.. "Dublin's Lost Heroines, Mammies and Grannies in a Vanished City," by Kevin C. KEARNS (Gill & Macmillan, h/b). Per review, "This is an extraordinary book. There are seven sections in Professor KEARNS latest book dealing with wives and mothers budgeting, wives having babies, unwed mothers and grannies, mothers and Christmas, mothers and dead children, memories of mothers and deaths of mothers. Page after careful page, filled with personalities, anecdotes, descriptions - and ringing red with rage! Beleaguered women philosophically reasoned and religiously accepted - but the social historian from North Carolina carefully records the story as acid might incise a stone." 5. "The Life Of Other Days, A Memoir of Cork," by Tim CRAMER (Collins Press p/b). He started off as a humble proof reader, went on to become editor and on the board of directors of our national newspapers .... The recollections of 'an unrepentant Corkman' as he describes himself, brings one back to a past that is a much more gentle and kindly place, for all its poverty and hardship. The book first appeared to wide acclaim, in 1992, and the second edition is welcome." ISBN 1-903464-95-X. 6. "Two Little Boys, An Account of the Dublin & Monaghan Bombings and their Aftermath," by Timothy O'NEILL with Barry OJ. WHYTE (Currach Press p/b). "'The true cost of these atrocities in human terms incalculable. In addition to the loss of human lives, hundreds more were scarred by physical and emotional injuries. The full story of suffering will never be known and it is ongoing in many cases.' Mr. Justice Henry BARRON was referring to the investigation into a series of 1974 bombings which he undertook, at the behest of the Irish government. In truth, his remarks could be applied to the entire series of horrific events, over many years, of which these particular still unexplained outrages were only a part." ISBN 1-85607-909-0. 7. "A Life In the Wild," by Eamon De BUITLEAR (Gill & Macmillan h/b). "He ran businesses, organised, promoted and led a group of traditional musicians of great importance, made wild life programmes for television, contributed to radio programmes and served in the Irish Senate. He is an accomplished man, likely to be recognised on sight by 90% of our population. But, at different stages of his life he worked for others, as an assistant in a leading angling shop, a manager in a sporting goods emporium, and as a vital member of the group who surrounded and supported that eccentric musical magician Sean O RIADA." ISBN 0-7171-3615-9. 8. "Saint Patrick, Ireland's Patron Saint," by George Otto SIMMS (O'Brien Press, h/b). "Delightful little book, reprinted for the fifth time since 1991. The late Archbishop SIMMS was a most learned man, a clergyman, a historian and an expert on ancient manuscripts. He wrote a charming, elegant book about our national saiint for which he deserves our gratitude..." ISBN 0-86278-749-1. 9. "The Quiet Quarter, Anthology of New Irish Writing," ed. by Eoin BRADY (New Island/RTE Lyric FM p/b. "Tune in to RTE Lyric FM (www.rte.ie). Since 1999 it has been playing classical music most of the day - a dependable refuge from the torrent of events pouring across the airwaves. Just to give us a little extra variety Eoin BRADY and Maire Nic GEARAILT commissioned 15-minute essays and poems which are read to us mid morning, just to divert, or even to sustain, our minds! Now we have a selection of about 100 of them on subjects as far apart as snails and Oughterard lemons, the Fastnet lighthouse and corner boys." ISBN 1-904301-62-2. 10. "Northern Ireland, A Journey," with Alf McCREARY (Lagan Books) large format h/b. 'The best way to discover Belfast is to start at the City Hall and the neatly landscaped gardens at the heart of Donegall square --- County Down stretches from the border city of Newry to the north of the Ards peninsula and from Portavogie on the east coast to the almost English rural beauty of Hillsborough ... Downpatrick has an impressive Church of Ireland cathedral dating in various versions from the 13th century ... it was damaged by an earthquake in 1245 - a particularly rare event in Ireland --- apart from the always fascinating but at time claustrophobic building Castle Ward has splendid gardens ...' Per review, "It's as if you were wandering around his beloved locality with Alf McCREARY's voice in your ear. A great companion on your tour whether virtual or in reality! Brilliantly chosen photographs." ISBN 0-86281-914-8.

SNIPPET: In the Jan-Feb 2000 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine is a several-page article featuring singer Daniel O'DONNELL by Alf McCREARY, writer, author, award-winning journalist who lives in Belfast, with several colorful photos by Brian LYNCH. Per O'DONNELL - "I feel more complete as a person in Donegal than anywhere else the world ... At home, the people are not influenced by what I do. It's no big deal to them, and that's the way it should be." His musical talent, professionalism, and easy-going manner have come together in such a way that he has become outstandingly successful in his chosen profession. Daniel has performed before thousands at London's Wembley Arena, New York's Carnegie Hall, the Sydney Opera House and in many venues along the length and breadth of Ireland, etc. The youngest of five children, Daniel O'DONNELL was born in the early 1960s in the small farming village of Kincassalagh. His parents, both from Donegal, met in the Shetland Islands while working in a fish-gutting factory. Jobs in Donegal were scarce, and his father had to work as a migrant labourer. He died at 49, when Daniel was only six. His mother Julia, a strong woman, raised the family single-handedly. Daniel says, "Although times were hard, I never felt that it was a tough childhood. There was a sense of freedom, amid the beaches and the beauty of the landscape. There was no danger for us as children of Donegal, though we had to be respectful of the sea. We used to cross over to Owey Island for the summer holidays. I had an awareness of the great beauty of the island and of the ocean. Donegal can be very wild and windy, especially in winter-time but it has its own rare beauty, and I loved it in summer. You would wake up, knowing that the promise of a good da! y lay before you. Later on, near the harbour, you could hear the sound of wellington boots on the gravel as the fishermen brought home their catch, and maybe they would give you a wee bit to see how it tasted. At home I remember the crabs roasting over the fire, hanging on a big crook over the burning turf." There was a highly-developed sense of community in Donegal. "There were 'wakes" when a neighbour died, and story-telling by great characters. During my boyhood there was lots of music around. Nearly everyone was able to sing, and there was a great deal of dancing." From an early age he began singing at social events in the village. In his chapel beautiful carols like 'Silent Night,' were sung at Christmas-time, in a wonderful atmosphere with people who had come back 'home' to rediscover their roots. As a young man Daniel worked part-time in a local store, and after passing his Leaving Certificate, he took a summer job washing dishes in a Dublin hotel. His older sister, Margo, who had established herself as a singer, encouraged Daniel to focus on a career in music. Daniel could afford to live anywhere in the world, but he chooses to remain at Kincasslagh. He has a Fan Club in Wembley, Middlesex, England. Tourists from all over will gather at the Viking House Hotel in Kincasslagh for a cup of tea with their favourite singer. O'DONNELL has recorded many beautiful inspiration and Irish songs and has written his autobiography which is simply titled, "Daniel O'Donnell: My Story." And Daniel says of Donegal -- "This is home to me, and what I enjoy most is having space and quietness, the opportunity to play cards and golf with the friends. In the long run it's the people who matter. I have never wanted for anything, and I never wanted much materially. If it all fell apart tomorrow, I could still live happily in Donegal. Here, you know that if you need assistance, the neighbours will help you. There's always an open door.". Note -- One of the photos is of the clean sheltered beach on nearby Arranmore Island which can be reached by a small car ferry from Burtonport.

HELP THE HALLOWEEN PARTY Dark Autumn is the season of the dead And when my doorbell rings I think I feel A little startled if not yet afraid But when I switch the light on in the hall And opening the door see just the night Glimpsing bleak roof tops under frosty stars I hear ... 'Help the Hallowe'en Party,' The low sepulchral voice beneath my chin Draws down my eyes to where the mummers stand Their stage my doorstep lighted from the hall Flaunting their shabby carnival of cast-offs And looking up with painted grins and scowls. That's when I truly feel a thrill of fear As if the infant dead rose from the clay To ape an age to which they never grew. -- Warren O'Connell

SNIPPET: Thought to have originated as a silent Play, performed by masked players in the Middle Ages, mumming is still carried on in many countries, including Ireland. Based on the legend of Saint George and the Seven Champions of Christendom, the mummers play was a dumb show -- hence the word 'mum,' meaning 'silent.' It was traditionally enacted on Christmas Day by masked performers. The main plot consisted of a duel between Saint George and an infidel knight in which one of them is killed but is later revived by a doctor. The mummers' play has changed slightly over the years. The duels often take place between Saint George or Saint Patrick and a well-known scoundrel such as Oliver Cromwell, etc. ... Cuchulainn and Fionn Mac Cumhaill sometimes figure in the duels also. Nowadays, rhymes are spoken by the different players -- these vary slightly from place to place. Other forms of mumming were played in some places -- Bandbeggars, Wrenboys and Strawboys were always popular in Ireland. After a country wedding, when the party was taking place and all the neighbours were gathered in the house, there would be a loud knock on the door and the Strawmen would swarm into the kitchen to dance and to sing. It was supposedly a lucky sign if the Strawmen came -- if they didn't come there was a fear that some ill luck would occur. They were also meant to bring a symbol of fertility to the newly-married couple. Wrenboys usually performed at Halloween and at Christmas. They carried a dead wren, as blood was supposed to appease the gods ... a lucky omen. The Wrenboys wore masks and sang and danced to entertain the household. Lately, that custom has changed to 'Trick or Treat' at Halloween. The horse is also part of the mummers' play - handed down traditionally. In Munster the Billyboys travel around at Halloween. They carry a doll - perhaps an effigy of Saint Brigid or some other person. The doll is also a sign of fertility. Many of these old customs date back to Pre-Christian times and to the four main divisions of the year at which pagan festivals were celebrated: Feabhra (February), Bealtaine (May), Lughnasa (August) and Samhain (November). The plays performed by the mummers may be connected with fertility and the re-gaining of life after death. The rhymes may be changed and dances performed to suit the area or country where they live. In Sofia, in Bulgaria, groups gather from all over the world to perform their rituals on a few occasions each year. Straw is used mainly by Irish mummers but other countries also wear straw headgear and skirts. Masks are worn everywhere and so the voices behind the masks are mumbled - as part of the disguise. The actual origins of mumming can only be guessed at but they are certainly of Pre-Christian origin. They have become modernised but still show Good fighting Evil and Good always winning. One of the best-known groups of Mummers are the Aughakillamaude Mummers of County Fermanagh. They travel to Bulgaria to take part in the rituals there. Cavan, Leitrim, Donegal, Kerry and Wexford also keep the tradition alive ... Posted by permission, "Leitrim Guardian" yearly magazine.

John Hyland Born: 1833 thereabouts In or near Dublin? or Ireland? No Ireland? married June quarter of the year 1853 London Stepney Middlesex England Spouse: Mary or Maria Dwyer Witnesses Thomas & Catherine Hyland were they his parents? brother and sister? Grandparents? Brother and wife? Mary or Maria Dwyer born Scotland oral history tells possibly Edinburgh Scotland. Oral history said they came to America to avoid parental displeasure. Settled in or near Bloomington, IL McHenry County. Can anyone help me with this family. these two people were my fathers' paternal grand- mothers' parents. Thanks so much

Thank you for this gem. Maisie ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Friday, November 24, 2006 12:02 AM Subject: IRELANDGENWEB Digest, Vol 1, Issue 55 > > > Today's Topics: > > 1. "When The Frost Is On The Punkin" -- James Whitcomb RILEY > (1849-1916) (Jean R.) > > > ---------------------------------------------------------------------- > > Message: 1 > Date: Thu, 23 Nov 2006 15:00:48 -0800 > From: "Jean R." <[email protected]> > Subject: [IGW] "When The Frost Is On The Punkin" -- James Whitcomb > RILEY (1849-1916) > To: <[email protected]> > Message-ID: <[email protected]> > Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" > > WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN > > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, > And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, > And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, > And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; > O, it's then's the time a feller is a feelin' at his best, > With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, > As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shrock. > > They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere > When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here -- > Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees, > And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; > But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze > Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days > Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock -- > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. > > The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, > And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; > The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like but still > A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill; > The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed, > The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover over-head! > O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. > > Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps > Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; > And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmen-folks is through > With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! -- > I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be > As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me -- > I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- and the whole-indurin' flock -- > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. > > -- James Whitcomb RILEY(1849-1916) won fame as the "Hoosier Poet." Riley, > the son of a lawyer, was born 7 Oct. 1849, in Greenfield, IN. He left home > after receiving a grammer-school education, and worked for a time a a sign > painter. He next joined a medicine show a an actor. In his spare time he > composed songs and revised plays for the company. Riley came to know very > well the dialect and the peculiarities of the country folk of Indiana, and > he began to write poems about them. Returning to Greenfield, Riley worked > on the local paper, then on the "Anderson" (IN) Democrat." In 1877, he > joined the "Indianapolis Journal." He began to contribute poems to several > papers under the name "Benj. F. Johnson of Boone." These verses soon made > him famous. He traveled about the country with "Bill" NYE, lecturing and > reading his poems. > > RILEY's remote genealogy is apparently in dispute - reaching back to Cork, > Ireland or, perhaps, to an English RYLAND family > > ------------------------------ > > To contact the IRELANDGENWEB list administrator, send an email to > [email protected] > > To post a message to the IRELANDGENWEB mailing list, send an email to > [email protected] > > __________________________________________________________ > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] > with the word "unsubscribe" without the quotes in the subject and the body > of the > email with no additional text. > > > End of IRELANDGENWEB Digest, Vol 1, Issue 55 > ******************************************** >

WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O, it's then's the time a feller is a feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shrock. They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here -- Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock -- When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like but still A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed, The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover over-head! O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmen-folks is through With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! -- I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me -- I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- and the whole-indurin' flock -- When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. -- James Whitcomb RILEY(1849-1916) won fame as the "Hoosier Poet." Riley, the son of a lawyer, was born 7 Oct. 1849, in Greenfield, IN. He left home after receiving a grammer-school education, and worked for a time a a sign painter. He next joined a medicine show a an actor. In his spare time he composed songs and revised plays for the company. Riley came to know very well the dialect and the peculiarities of the country folk of Indiana, and he began to write poems about them. Returning to Greenfield, Riley worked on the local paper, then on the "Anderson" (IN) Democrat." In 1877, he joined the "Indianapolis Journal." He began to contribute poems to several papers under the name "Benj. F. Johnson of Boone." These verses soon made him famous. He traveled about the country with "Bill" NYE, lecturing and reading his poems. RILEY's remote genealogy is apparently in dispute - reaching back to Cork, Ireland or, perhaps, to an English RYLAND family

SNIPPET: Melanie le BROCQUY was born in Dublin in 1919. Now in her 80s, she postponed her artistic career to rear her family, returning to sculpture in her forties. Most of her work shows the interaction between parent and child or elements of that relationship - a baby's feet, entwined fingers, leaning figures perhaps. The pieces are small, sometimes just inches high, but her ability to capture the essence of a piece is stunning. Her bronze of St. Patrick, Ireland's patron saint who spent his early days as a slave tending sheep on the hillsides of rural Ireland. now stands on a plinth in the aisle of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. The sculpture was a gift to the cathedral, in 2002, from Dr. Edwin OWEN, former Bishop of Limerick and Killaloe, in thanksgiving for fifty years of his ministry. Tradition tells that the saint baptized converts in a well on the site of the cathedral; the present building was founded in the 12th century and later restored by the GUINNESS family in the 19th century. A photo of this beautiful sculpture appeared in the March-April 2003 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine.

THE MIRROR In memory of my father I He was no longer my father but I was still his son; I would get to grips with that cold paradox, the remote figure in his Sunday best who was buried the next day. A great day for tears, snifters of sherry, whiskey, beef sandwiches, tea. An old mate of his was recounting their day excursion to Youghal in the Thirties, how he was his first partner on the Cork/Skibbereen route in the late Forties. There was a splay of Mass cards on the sitting-room mantelpiece which formed a crescent round a glass vase, his retirement present from C.I.E. II I didn't realize till two days later it was the mirror took his breath away. The monstrous old Victorian mirror with the ornate gilt frame we had found in the three-storey house when we moved in from the country. I was afraid that it would sneak down from the wall and swallow me up in one gulp in the middle of the night. While he was decorating the bedroom he had taken down the mirror without asking for help; soon he turned the colour of terracotta and his heart broke that night. III There was nothing for it but to set about finishing the job, papering over the cracks, painting the high window, stripping the door, like the door of a crypt. When I took hold of the mirror I had a fright. I imagined him breathing through it. I heard him say in a reassuring whisper: I'll give you a hand here. And we lifted the mirror back in position above the fireplace, my father holding it steady while I drove home the two nails. -- Paul Muldoon, born `1951 Co. Armagh.

SNIPPET: "If the first and most pressing problem for the living was how to remain alive, the second was how to dispose of the dead. For though there were virtually no births and therefore few infants less than a year old - pregnant women being too starved and emaciated to carry, much less feed, a fetus - the deaths from starvation, typhus, relapsing fever, famine dropsy, scurvy, dysentery or from combinations of any of them became so frequent and numerous, the dead so common everywhere, that if the driver of a car felt a bump at night, he knew he had ridden over a body stricken on the highway. Next to food, clothing, and medical help, families stood in need of coffins, and as they became too expensive to buy, and then almost impossible to obtain at any price, a sad and humiliating change took place in the way the Irish put their dead to rest. Before the famine, the poorest farmer believed in and strove for the credit and respectability attached to a good, large, well-conducted funeral. Many saved for no other purpose than to have the necessary money to buy a coffin, finance a wake, engage professional keeners, and hire the horse-drawn hearse that hundreds would follow on foot to the grave. No custom was more firmly rooted in Ireland's pagan past or more resistant to Roman Catholic criticism (primarily, for excesses at wakes) .... In Ireland the pagan and Christian rituals had become so intertwined as to be inseparable. About the importance of a coffin, however, there was no argument from either side. In everyone's eyes the coffin represented the dead person's ultimate seclusion, his final and inviolable private room. To be without one at the end was to lose respect and to cast shame on those you left behind. It was so important that in 1847, when deaths outnumbered burials and unburied bodies began to accumulate, relatives of the dead pulled old family chests apart to make coffins. When the chests were gone and the people kept dying, tables and boats were torn apart, warped coffin boards were stolen from old graveyards. In Armagh, County Tyrone* where people knew the art of basketry, basket coffins were made for the dead when wood became unobtainable. In other districts the dead were wrapped by their relatives in sheets, sacking or straw mats or in barrel staves bound up with straw ropes. One woman brought her wasted dead husband, wrapped in a sheet, on her back to Kilsarcon churchyard to be buried. The edges of the sheet were held together by 'scannans,' then bogdeal spars worked in and out through the edges of the sheet. Finally, a new kind of reusable coffin, called a 'trap coffin,' came into use. Built sturdy enough to withstand the wear and tear of hundreds of funerals, it was fitted with a hinged bottom that swung open like a trap door when released at the graveyard, whereby the dead person was dropped into the grave. The man who owned it also owned the horse and cart that carried the dead person to the graveyard. He made several trips a day, always with the same coffin and often to the same grave, which was filled with as many as six bodies, the topmost one being very close to ground level, before the grave was closed and covered over. This explains why starving dogs, so starved they could no longer bark, raided graveyards at night and why one famine graveyard, Cashel, Co. Tipperary, was later, after the turn of the century, barbarously and contemptuously called 'The Shank Yard..' As the manner and means of burial became uppermost in everyone's mind, some starving and exhausted people, knowing they had a short time to live, sought admittance to the poorhouse. They wanted not so much aid as the coffin and decent burial that their families and friends could not afford them. Others, not so desperate but expecting a death in the family, rushed to the carpenter's and ordered a coffin ahead of time for fear there would be no lumbar left when the death occurred. 'In every village the manufacture was remarkable at the doors of the carpenters' homes, and in the country parts I often met coffins, and boards for making coffins, carried on the backs of women,' wrote the Reverend F. F. TRENCH in a letter dated 1847. 'At Glengariff, the Roman Catholic Chapel is turned into a place for making coffins ... I entered .. and said to one of the carpenters, 'What are you making boys?' -- 'Coffins and wheelbarrows, Sir.'" *(Note -- Apparently the Poor Law Union town of Armagh was a civil registration district for some townlands in both Cos. Armagh and Tyrone). -- Excerpt, "Paddy's Lament, Ireland 1846-47", Thomas and Michael Gallagher (1982).

SNIPPET: Irish legend has it that The Curragh was reputedly a place for chariot racing and the ancient Brehon Laws listed a complicated set of rules and regulations for the practice of the sport by young men of noble birth. But racing as we know it today began in Kildare in more modern times, and by 1727, when 'Cheney's Racing Calendar' was published for the first time, The Curragh had already become the headquarters of the 'Sport of Kings' in Ireland. Early on, the great contests were in the form of 'match races' in which one great champion was pitted directly against another. In a contest of this type in September 1751, a steed called 'Black and All Black' took on a rival named 'Bajazet' for a prize of 1,000 guineas. The side bets came to a total of 10,000 guineas, a vast fortune in those days. By 1812 a new phenomenon arrived on the scene in the form of Patrick CONNOLLY who set up as a 'public trainer' of racehorses at Waterford Lodge. Up to that time the landed proprietors trained their own champions.

SNIPPET: Researchers with Northern Ireland roots may enjoy Seamus DEANE's work. DEANE was born in Derry in 1940, has taught at Notre Dame and published a number of works including his novel which won the 1996 Guardian Fiction Prize, "Reading In The Dark." Derry-born poet Seamus HEANEY, referred to the novel "a masterful transformation of family griefs and political violence into something at once rhapsodic and heartbreaking ..."