spelling may be altered. That is the way my grandmother spelled it when she emigrated to the U.S. supposedly from County Mayo any suggestions would be appreciated. I can't seem to get any information about this name. elaine

John, Read # 3, LAND WARS, about the Land League & the boycott. That is what got Bryan Kilmartin in trouble. Barb

IDEAL Naked I saw thee, O beauty of beauty! And I blinded my eyes For fear I should flinch. I heard thy music, O sweetness of sweetness! And I shut my ears For fear I should fail. I kissed thy lips O sweetness of sweetness! And I hardened my heart For fear of my ruin. I blinded my eyes And my ears I shut, I hardened my heart, And my love I quenched. I turned my back On the dream I had shaped, And to this road before me My face I turned. I set my face To the road here before me, To the work that I see, To the death that I shall meet. Padraic Pearse (1879-1916) Born in Dublin, charismatic leader of the April 1916 rebellion, executed May 1916: "We have the strength and the peace of mind of those who never compromise." (His patriot friend, Tipperary's Thomas MacDonagh, was executed the same day).

Savannah, Georgia, dates its Irish tradition back to 1733, when the British first colonized the area. Early settlers included wealthy Irish Protestants who were awarded land in the New World by the Crown, followed by poor Irish Catholics who helped build the railroad lines in the 1830s. Thousands more settled there after fleeing the Famine of the 1840s, especially from Mayo, Cork, and Kerry. Others came from Co. Wexford, which had a direct shipping line to Savannah. Jimmy RAY, head of the city's parade committee, says Savannah has been celebrating Saint Patrick's Day continuously since 1824, with a few exceptions. "We didn't have the parade for a few years during the Civil War, and one year when Saint Patrick's Day landed on Easter Week, but we always observed the holy day," he says. His Irish great-grandparents, Mathias H. RAY and Mary Elizabeth MAHANY, came to Savannah in the 1850s, when 70% of immigration to the city was Irish, and they settled there. A century and a half later, Irish-American clans such as the Rays maintain their sense of Irishness, not just from family tradition, but from the Irish Sisters of Mercy and Irish priests who have had a constant presence there. "We were taught Irish history by the nuns," Ray says proudly. That awareness extends to descendants of Protestant Irish, who also participate in the parade activities, and to the local Scottish Americans, who consider Saint Patrick's Day part of their Celtic tradition, too. It extends to Savannah's sizeable Jewish and Greek communities, who don green and partake in the annual parade, which is the second largest in America next to New York City's. In 1997, Floyd Adams, the African-American mayor, was seen at every Irish event, wearing his green topcoat. -- Excerpt, "Irish in America," Coffey & Golway

O Ireland, isn't it grand you look -- Like a bride in her rich adornin'? And with all the pent-up love of my heart I bid you the top o' the mornin'! -- John Locke, "The Exile's Return" We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English. -- Winston Churchill My one claim to originality among Irishmen is that I have never made a speech -George Moore, author Everywhere in Irish prose there twinkles and peers the merry eye and laugh of a people who had little to laugh about in real life. -- Diarmuid Russell O Ireland my first and only love Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove. -- James Joyce There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting. -- John Synge Where there are Irish there's loving and fighting And when we stop either, it's Ireland no more! -- Rudyard Kipling. For the great Gaels of Ireland Are the men that God made mad, For all their wars are merry, And all their songs are sad. -- G. K. Chesterton

The reality for the poor populations of cities like Limerick, Cork and Dublin was grim - diseases such as T.B. (consumption) and diphtheria continued to take their toll in the 1930s as they had at the turn of the century. Hospitals were not the cheerful, open places that they are today. Improvements in medical knowledge and patient care, and changes in social attitudes, have brought about a great transformation. But in the 1930s and 1940s they were still authoritarian places. Care was free, but the poor were made to feel that they were being looked after on sufferance. The slightest hint of enjoyment or high spirits was heavily frowned upon. The natural kindness of the nurses was chilled into repression by the inhuman formality of the system. There was another presence in the hospitals too - and that was fear. By the time someone was admitted, it might well be too late. There were many diseases considered incurable. Especially in the tuberculosis wards, many people old and young, were admitted in the expectation that they would die there. The ever-present fear of death helped to create the chilly, brooding atmosphere that sometimes also seems reflected in the architecture itself. "When I saw her first reclining Her lips were mov'd in prayer, And the setting sun was shining On her loosen'd golden hair. When our kindly glances met her Deadly brilliant was her eye; And she said that she was better, While we knew that she would die." -- Richard d'Alton WILLIAMS, extract "The Dying Girl." Classified Ad, "Limerick Chronicle," 1943 -- "Coughs and Colds are prevalent. Be sure and ask for EMBY's Essence of Benzoin by name (registered) and avoid substitutes. Emby's warms up chest, cuts away phlegm, and has an unexcelled reputation for doing what it says. IT CURES COUGHS. Sold by all chemists. Manufactured by WIDDESS, Chemist, Roche's Street. 1/6 and 2/6 per bottle. Special Children's Essence, 1/3." -- Excerpts, "Through Irish Eyes" 1998

Crookhaven is a tiny hamlet which lies about as far down in south-west Cork as you can go without falling into the sea. This sleepy little fishing village has a colorful history involving smuggling, shipwrecks, burnings and battles, East India merchantmen and Spanish galleons, lobsters, pilchards (a sardine-like fish related to herring), traders, businessmen, soldiers, spies and starving emigrants. It played a major role in the development of world communications; in 1901, Crookhaven became a site for a radio station that would transfer messages from America to England. In 1659, Crookhaven had just 36 inhabitants. There was a famine there is 1822-23, but the people were put to work in the making of the Skibbereen-Crookhaven road. By 1837, the population had expanded to 424. Fishing and the export of fish have always been important in Crookhaven. In the the 17th century, Sr. William HULL, an English tenant of the Earl of Cork, developed an industry across the harbour from the village. In his "Pilchard Palace" fish were salted or smoked and then barreled for export. It gave useful employment to many people in the surrounding area, but this did not stop them from turning against Sir William during the 1641 rebellion, attacking his household, burning his property to the ground and carrying off all his goods. In later years, merchants from Brittany sailed across regularly to bargain with local fishermen for lobster, crayfish, sea urchins, periwinkles and salmon for the French dining tables. "Black 1847" saw another, far worse famine. The little settlement of Crookhaven was cruelly hit. There were two soup kitchens set up in that year. Of the 91 children on the school roll in 1846, only eight remained in in March 1847. The position of the safe harbour became something of a blessing. Ships pausing before the Atlantic crossing took off large numbers of desperate and starving emigrants who had not the means to get to Cork City. Some succeeded in reaching the New World and a new life. In the 1850s and early 1860s there was much activity around the copper mines, giving welcome employment to many before closing in the 1860s. The little church of St. Brendan which stands on a grassy knoll above the village dates from the 1700s, but probably replaces earlier buildings. In its peaceful graveyard the grass waves long and tall around ancient stones which record losses at sea, untimely drownings, or the quiet end of a well-run life. This church and graveyard were featured in a 1950s film, "I Thank A Fool," starring Susan Hayward, and in O'SULLIVAN's pub on the quayside, faded black-and-white stills from the film, in which all the villagers appeared as extras, are still displayed with pride. -- Excerpt, "Irish Roots"

BLUESHIRTS -- Like the rest of Europe, Ireland was susceptible to extremist politics. Blueshirts were considered an extremist group modeled after Mussolini's Blackshirts and Hitler's Brownshirts but were "weak stuff" compared to the real fascist article and never openly adopted the policies advocated by Hitler and Mussolini such as condemnation of democracy, imperalism and racism. I believe this was post-1921 and there was "street brawling" between republicans and members of the opposition . There were clashes between the Blueshirts and the IRA. They did a lot of marching in parades. There was legislation against the wearing of the shirts in March 1934. I found a photo of "Blueshirts on parade," in a book with a lady leader, Mrs. "General" O'NEILL, Kinsale, Co. Cork, with the familiar salute seen with the Nazi's. They were anti-communism. One of the leaders was Eion O'DUFFY who worked with assorted anti-Finanna Fail parties but was expelled from constitutional politics in 1923. In 1936-37 he led 700 Blueshirts to Spain to fight for Franco.

Starting in the later 1600s, migration from Ireland to America began to take on a recognizable pattern. While this migration to America included Irish Catholics, Anglicans, Quakers, and Baptists from every region of Ireland, from approximately 1680 to the Revolution (1776), the overwhelming majority were Presbyterians from Ulster. They were the descendants of settlers brought in from the Scottish lowlands by James I to settle (and ideally pacify) confiscated lands in Ulster. By the end of the 17th century, they began moving to America to escape high taxes and soaring rents known as "rack rents." Between 1700 and 1820 they constituted 30% of all Europeans coming to America, and 50% between 1776 and 1820. Drawn by the promise of free land, most Scotch-Irish headed for the "western frontier." For the earliest arrivals, this meant the frontier of NH and MA. But poor farming and contentious relations with their eastern counterparts led many to move southward to western PA by the 1720s and 1730s. As the number of Scotch-Irish arrivals continued to rise in the 18th century, they settled still farther to the south, all the way to Georgia. As they did, they established places like New Ireland, MD. These tough Irishmen played a crucial role in pushing westward settlement, a process that brought them into frequent conflict with Indians. Many prominent Americans, among them President Andrew JACKSON and Davy CROCKETT, descended from Scotch-Irish settlers. Per another resource -- A total of 2,280 Irish immigrated to Savannah between 1800 and 1860. Between 1848-52 alone some 800 Irish arrived in GA. Savanannah was a major port. Workers were needed for shipping, construction, road building, ditch digging, labor on canals and railroads, and to count and load bales of cotton arriving from the interior of the state onto cargo ships. Many Irish in GA during this time period primarily came from Cos. Wexford, also Mayo, Tipperary, Kerry, Cork and Cavan. Looking for a warmer climate and less crowding after arriving first in NY, Boston & Philadelphia, they hoped for "better" conditions in the south. Some took the Great Philadelphia Wagon Road from Philadelphia to Augusta. Later generations joined them for support and help in getting established. Some came during the famine years in the mid 1840s. Some had drifted in from the north and west into the south as early as 1734. Many Irish did not speak English (spoke Gaelic) and the Hibernian Society helped to teach them. Not all came by road, some came in steerage in coastal steamers from other locations. In 1839 many Irish laborers were working in Marthasville, the original name of Atlanta.

"ON THE RESTORATION OF ST. BRIGID'S CHURCH, KILTUBRID" Starting from the baptismal font, where water Once sprinkled on his head, now I his daughter Lean to the rose windows of the mystical cross Worshiping creation, in his name, the loss Of the land and language by the holy well When green-mouthed corpses had tongues swell Hungered for food and truth of race and kind Eight thousand teeming souls to bind In their febrile agony, and to long for an end To betrayal, anguish, exile of foe and friend I now honour memory, the blessed well's return The church anew, the well to fill the churn. To hope and faith, where we long to learn, Undo the history, right from wrong discern. -- Rosemarie Rowley, "The Leitrim Guardian" (1997)

The history of emigration from Ireland to America has been well documented in song and this is one of the most poignant emigration songs. For the families of the emigrant the parting was a time of great sorrow, akin to a death. There was the horrendous journey on the emigrant ship that many did not survive, then there were the perils of the New World. Even if all went well it was unlikely that they would ever see their beloved again, due to the great distance involved. The "American Wake" was a traditional send off for the immigrant. The family and friends would hold a "wake" for the emigrant which was a party through the night, with a mixture of celebration and sadness. Then the next day, those that were able to, accompanied the emigrant on foot to the Port, sometimes a journey of sixty miles or more, where the emigrant ship was docked. The emigrants were required to carry on board not only their clothes and personal possessions but also cooking pots and enough food f! or six weeks. A STOR MO CHROI (Darling of my heart) A stor mo chroi when you're far away >From the home that you'll soon be leaving. Tis many the time by night and by day That your heart will sorely be grieving. For the stranger's land is bright and fair And rich in its treasures golden But you'll pine I know for the long long ago And the love that never is olden. A stor mo chroi, in the stranger's land There is plenty of wealth for the willing Where jewels adorn the great and the grand While our faces with hunger are paling. For the road may be toilsome and hard to tread And the lights of their cities may blind you. Then turn a stor to the Eastern shore To the ones that you're leaving behind you A stor mo chroi when the evening mists O'er mountain and sea are falling, Then turn away from the throng and list, And maybe you'll hear me calling For the sound of a voice that I sorely miss, for somebody's quick returning. A run, a run, won't you come back soon To the love that always is burning.

In Ireland, when a child smiles in its sleep, it is said to be "talking with angels." THE ANGEL'S WHISPER A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And the tempest was swelling Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, "Dermot, darling, oh! come back to me." Her beads while she number'd, The baby still slumber'd, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee; "Oh blest be that warning, My child's sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. "And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me And say thou wouldst rather They'd watch o'er thy father! For I know that the angels are whispering with thee." The dawn of the morning Saw Dermot returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; And closely caressing Her child, with a blessing, Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering with thee." -- Samuel Lover (1797-1868)

Looking for information/connections of Patrick FEE. Appears Patrick was born Co Mayo, Ireland 1829-1835 possibly immigrated to Canada where some of the family may still live in the Hamilton area. Patrick FEE enlisted in Co D 67th Ohio Infantry Volunteers in Toledo Ohio, was wounded in South Carolina 1863 and was discharged in Richmond, Virginia in 1865. His pension papers indicate that he might have been born March 11, 1829 somewhere in County Mayo, Ireland. Although throughout the papers his age changes. In one place he states he was 27 when he enlisted in 1862 which would indicate he was born in 1835. He was wounded in the charge at Ft..Wagner Morris Island, SC and suffered considerably for the rest of his life. His leg was shattered below right knee, he limped and had considerable difficulty in walking. He could not stand and could not do manual labor. He also had lumbago, rheumatism in both arms and shoulders, impaired vision and heart disease. It appears his only income was the military pension which was $6 to 15 a month. He resided at National Military Soldiers Home in Leavenworth Kansas and in Columbus, Montgomery County, Ohio. He also resided at 521 Franklin Ave and 839 South Ewing Ave, St. Louis, Missouri. He visited with his sister Ann FEE LAW WALTON 603 Luzerne St. Scranton, PA. The pension papers indicate that 1876-1886 he resided with relatives in the Southern part of Arkansas living off their charitable efforts. It appears he might have spent his final years at the National Military Home in Ohio living to at least 1907 when he claimed to be 78 years old. Patrick sister Ann FEE m LAW in Canada c 1845; m Robert WALTON c 1848 in Hawley, PA they lived in Scranton, PA. His sister Helen FEE m William BRENNAN c 1852 in Hawley, PA. Walton J. Sullivan at wsullivw@aol.com Paternal - SULLIVAN, COLEMAN, CUMMINGS, O'BRIEN, BOLD, BLACK, BRENNAN, CAFFREY, CAVENEY, CARROLL, CORBETT, CROWE, DISKIN, DONEGAN, FEE, GABRIEL, GIBLIN, GORMAN, GERRITY, GREP, JENKINS, JENNINGS, LAW, LYNCH, MC GREEVEY, MC NALLY, O'CONNOR, PHILBIN, REGAN, ROLAND, SHEA, SHIELDS, STAFFORD, STANTON, STEINHAUSER, WALTON, WEISS, PA-Old Forge, Minooka, Taylor, Scranton, Hawley, Mt. Pleasant, Pittsburgh; NY-Kingston, New Amsterdam; Wales-Rhymney, Tredegar PA-Old Forge, Minooka, Taylor, Scranton, Hawley, Mt. Pleasant, Pittsburgh; NY-Kingston, New Amsterdam http://worldconnect.rootsweb.com/cgi-bin/igm.cgi?db=wsullivw http://www.gencircles.com/users/wsullivw http://www.familytreemaker.com/users/s/u/l/Walton--J-Sullivan/index.html

THE READING LESSON Fourteen years old, learning the alphabet, He finds letters harder to catch than hares Without a greyhound. Can't I give him a dog To track them down, or put them in a cage? He's caught in a trap, until I let him go, Pinioned by "Don't you want to learn to read?" "I'll be the same man whatever I do." He looks at a page as a mule balks at a gap >From which a goat may hobble out and bleat. His eyes jink from a sentence like flushed snipe Escaping shot. A sharp word, and he'll mooch Back to his piebald mare and bantam cock. Our purpose is as tricky to retrieve As mercury from a smashed thermometer. "I'll not read any more." Should I give up ? His hands, long-fingered as a Celtic scribe's, Exploring pockets of the h.... drunk Loiterers at the fairs, giving them lice. A neighbour chuckles. "you can never tame The wild-duck: When his wings grow, he'll fly off." If books resembled roads, he's quickly read: But they're small farms to him, fenced by the page, Ploughed into lines, wiht letters drilled like oats: A field of tasks he'll always be outside. If words were bank-notes, he would filch a wad; If they were pheasants, they'd be in his pot For breakfast, or if wrens he'd make them king. -- Richard Murphy

THE WOMAN OF THE HOUSE (In memory of his grandmother Lucy Mary Ormsby whose home was in the west of Ireland 1873-1958). On a patrician evening in Ireland I was born in the guest-room: she delivered me. May I deliver her from the cold hand Where now she lies, with a brief elegy? It was her house where we spent holidays, With candles to bed, and ghostly stories: In the lake of her heart we were islands Where the wild asses galloped in the wind. Her mind was a vague and log-warmed yarn Spun between sleep and acts of kindliness: She fed our feelings as dew feeds the grass On April nights, and our mornings were green: And those happy days, when in spite of rain We'd motor west where the salmon-boats tossed, She would sketch on the pier among the pots Waves in a sunset, or the rising moon. Indian-meal porridge and brown soda-bread, Boiled eggs and buttermilk, honey from gorse, Far more than we wanted she always offered In a heart-surfeit; she ate little herself. Mistress of mossy acres and unpaid rent, She crossed the walls on foot to feed the sick: Though frugal cousins frowned on all she spent People had faith in her healing talent. She bandaged the wounds that poverty caused In the house that famine labourers built, Gave her hands to cure impossible wrong In a useless way, and was loved for it. Hers were the fruits of a family tree: A china clock, the Church's calendar, Gardeners polite, governesses plenty, And incomes waiting to be married for. How the feckless fun would flicker her face Reading our future by cards at the fire, Rings and elopements, love-letters, old lace, A signet of jokes to seal our desire. "It was sad about Maud, poor Maud!" she'd sigh, To think of a friend she lured and teased Till she married the butler. "Starved to death, No service either by padre or priest." Cholera raged in the Residency; "They kept my uncle alive on port." Which saved him to slaughter a few sepoys And retire to Galway in search of sport. The pistol that lost an ancestor's duel, The hoof of the horse that carried him home To be stretched on chairs in the drawing-room, Hung by the Rangoon prints and the Crimean medal. Lever and Lover, Somerville and Ross Have fed the same worm as Blackstone and Gibbon, The mildew has spotted "Clarissa"'s spine And soiled the "Despatches of Wellington." Beside her bed lay an old Bible that Her Colonel Rector husband used to read, And a new "Writers' and Artists' Year-book" To bring a never-printed girlhood back. The undeveloped thoughts died in her head, But from her heart, through the people she loved Images spread, and intuitions lived, More than the mere sense of what she said. At last, her warmth made ashes of the trees Ancestors planted, and she was removed To hospital to die there, certified. Her house, but not her kindness, has found heirs. Compulsory comforts penned her limping soul: With all she uttered they smiled and agreed. When she summoned the chauffeur, no one obeyed, But a chrome hearse was ready for nightfall. "Order the car for nine o'clock tonight! I must get back, get back. They're expecting me. I'll bring the spiced beef and the nuts and fruit. Come home and I'll brew you lime-flower tea!" "The house in flames and nothing is insured! Send for the doctor, let the horses go. The dogs are barking again. Has the cow Calved in the night? What is that great singed bird?" "I don't know who you are, but you've kind eyes. My children are abroad and I'm alone. They left me in this gaol. You all tell lies. You're not my people. My people have gone." Now she's spent everything: the golden waste Is washed away, silent her heart's hammer. The children overseas no longer need her, They are like aftergrass to her harvest. People she loved were those who worked the land Whom the land satisfied more than wisdom: They've gone, a tractor ploughs where horses strained. Sometimes sheep occupy their roofless room. Through our inheritance all things have come, The form, the means, all by our family: The good of being alive was given through them, We ourselves limit that legacy. The bards in their beds once beat our ballads Under leaky thatch listening to sea-birds, But she in the long ascendancy of rain Served biscuits on a tray with ginger wine. Time can never relax like this again, She in her phaeton looking for folk-lore, He writing sermons in the library Till lunch, then fishing all the afternoon. On a wet winter evening in Ireland I let go her hand, and we buried her In the family earth beside her husband Only to think of her, now warms my mind. -- Richard Murphy

The late 1870s brought to the fore leading Irish nationalist, Michael DAVITT (1846-1906), born in Mayo into a family of poor Catholic tenant farmers. Like so many others, they survived the Famine only to be evicted. He migrated to England and found work in a Lancashire factory town. It was here that DAVITT, at the age of 11, lost his right arm in a factory accident. In his late teens he joined the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) and became its secretary in 1868. Arrested in the crackdown on the IRB following the Fenian Uprising, he served seven years of his 15-year sentence before being released in 1877. Eager to resume his nationalist activity, he immediately sailed for NY to foster support. The Land League agitation started by DAVITT was supported by Charles Stewart PARNELL (1846-1891). PARNELL was born in Avondale, Co. Wicklow and was a member of a wealthy, landed family. Educated in England and drawn into politics, especially the home rule variety, he won a seat in Parliament in 1875. Although a member of the Protestant ascendancy and a landlord himself, PARNELL had genuine sympathy for the plight of Irish Catholics and hostility toward English domination of Irish affairs. He joined with others in firmly linking the land question to the national question. As the League put it in its Declaration of Principles" -- "The land of Ireland belongs to the people all of Ireland, to be held and cultivated for the sustenance of those who God decreed to be the inhabitants thereof. Land being created to supply mankind with the necessities of existence, those who cultivate it to that end have a higher claim to its absolute possession than those who make it an artic! le of barter to be used or disposed of for purposes of profit or pleasure." In a country where 70% of the land was owned by only 2,000 people while 3,000,000 tenants owned none at all, this was a powerful and popular message. The League called for the redistribution of property from landlords (who would be compensated) to tenants. To bring this about, tenants began to withhold their rents. Some resorted to violence, destroying crops, maiming cattle, and in a few cases murdering landlords or their agents. The struggle became known as the "Land War" and its revolutionary potential sent chills through the Protestant Ascendancy. Another tactic employed in the Land War was social ostracism. Anyone who aided the landlord by collecting rents or carrying out evictions found themselves cut off from social contact. This was especially true for those "land grabbers" who took over an evicted farmer's holding. As PARNELL put it, "When a man takes a farm from which another has been evicted, you must show him on the roadside when you meet him, you must show him in the streets of the town, you must show him at the shop-counter, you must show him at the fair and at the market-place and even in the house of worship, by leaving him severely alone...by isolating him from the rest of his kind, as if he were a leper of old, you must show him your detestation of the crime he has committed." The most famous victim of his policy was the land agent for Lord ERNE's Mayo estate, Captain Charles BOYCOTT, whose name became a synonym for the practice. Shunned by locals, he needed over 1,000 British troops to harvest the estate's crops (at a cost of 10,000 pounds to the government.) -- Excerpts, "1001 Things Everyone Should Know About Irish American History," Edward T. O'Donnell (2002).

The administrators and coordinators of Ireland Genealogy Projects (IGP) send their support to the Government of Australia and to our Irish Cousins in OZ who lost loved ones in the dastardly terrorist attack on the innocent peaceful people of Bali, Indonesia. May the terrorists soon occupy their special place in hell. Our prayers to our Deity of free choice reach out to you wherever you are. We hold hands with you across the miles that separate us geographically, but not in reality. Donald O'Collaugh Kelly National Coordinator Ireland Genealogy Projects, IGP TM URL= http://irelandgenealogyprojects.rootsweb.com --- Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free. Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com). Version: 6.0.394 / Virus Database: 224 - Release Date: 10/3/02

Hello List I am hoping that someone can recommend a book that will tell me about the everyday life of middle class working people in Ireland in the 1800's. My ancestors consisted of jewelers, watchmakers, milliners and photographers who reside in and around Dublin, Carlow City and Drogheda in the 1800's. I would like to find out what the day-to-day life was like for these people in these areas. It would have to be a book that is still in publication as I would have to purchase it since we do not have a very good library selection in this part of northeastern Vermont. Our local one consists of donated books (mostly paperbacks) on a couple of shelves in the back of the General Store which other than the post office is the only business in our town. We even have to drove 7 miles to get to the closest gas station, and most all of our roads are still dirt roads. Thanks again Michelle-Vt. USA researching:FARLEY, MAGEE, LEMON, McMILLAN, QUINNELL-Ireland

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"1996

MONUMENT Last week I watched her being carried Towards a green gash in the convent grounds in Middletown. Yesterday she lifted me from tears Because the stones were sharp-toothed. She carried me skywards Between the high bog of crimson-umber bilberries And the cello-music of the swollen Shannon Past the bridge of Rooskey To Ardbraccan And over to Bornacoola To the white marble monument Which stands Between the old monastery and the Ogham Stone, Last week I watched her being carried Towards a green gash In the convent grounds In Middletown. Today I engrave her name Clara O Beirne On the white marble monument Which stands Between the old monastery And the Ogham Stone In Cloonmorris graveyard. -- Patricia Burke, "Leitrim Guardian" 1996, first published in "The Salmon" #19, Autumn 1988