EMILY DICKINSON Emily Dickinson, I think of you Waking early each morning to write, Dressing with care for the act of poetry. Yours is always a perfect progress through Such cluttered rooms to eloquence, delight, To words - your window on the mystery. By christening the world you live and pray -- Within those lovely titles is contained The large philosophy you tend towards: With the lexicon the birds that play Beside your life, the wind that hold your hand Are recognized. Your poems are full of words. In your house in Amherst, Massachusetts, Though like love letters you lock them away, The poems are ubiquitous as dust You sit there writing while the light permits -- While you grow older they increase each day, Gradual as flowers, gradual as rust. -- Michael Longley (b. 1939 Belfast, Co. Antrim) lexicon/vocabulary -- ubiquitous/seeming to be present everywhere (Note - Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), was one of America's most gifted lyric poets. A Massachusetts spinster and recluse, disappointed in love, Emily wrote over a thousand short lyrics on odd scraps of paper. Only two were published during her lifetime, and those without her consent. When she died, her poems were discovered. Here are four: I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell! They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! ---- I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? "For beauty," I replied. "And I for truth, -- the two are one; We brethren are," he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names. ---- If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain. ---- The Chariot Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; He roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 't is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.

Received this follow-up note about a Aran Island website with lovely photos, more information about John M. Synge: Don wrote: > I designed and wrote the original Aran Islands page and posted with > permission the set of photographs. > > My cousin Richard O'Donnell adopted and improved the website, and > integrated it with Galway. > > I went on to write about the ancient history of the area. > > Enjoy: http://www.rootsweb.com/~irlgal2/ > > > BIO: John Millington SYNGE went to visit Irishmaan off the coast of > Galway five times between 1898 and 1902, and the subsequent publication > of his classic study of island life, "The Aran Islands" was published in > 1907. "My Wallet of Photographs: The Photographs of J. M. Synge."....

BIO: John Millington SYNGE went to visit Irishmaan off the coast of Galway five times between 1898 and 1902, and the subsequent publication of his classic study of island life, "The Aran Islands" was published in 1907. "My Wallet of Photographs: The Photographs of J. M. Synge," introduction by Lilo STEPHENS, was published by the Dolmen Press in Dublin in 1971, but it may be currently out of print. It contained 23 Aran pictures taken by Synge with his Lancaster-Instagraphic "plate-and-bellows" camera of polished mahogany in a black leather case with eyeholes for lens and viewfinders, an apparatus now in the Trinity library. Synge was one of the island's first tourists, bringing with him the first clock to the island and also one of the earliest cameras. It was the poet YEATS who advised him, "Go to the Aran Islands and live there as if you were one of the people themselves; express a life that has never found expression." Two years later Synge acted on his suggestion a! nd abandoned his possibly unsatisfactory and mildly decadent big-city life and, though already conscious of his own serious ill health, sought a spiritual and physical renewal of sorts in Aran's primitive conditions. YEATS wrote of him: And that enquiring man John Synge comes next That dying chose the living world for text And never could have rested in his tomb But that, long travelling, he had come Towards nightfall upon certain set apart In a most desolate stony place, Towards nightfall upon a race Passionate and simple like his heart. A Dublin Protestant, SYNGE had studied Irish at Trinity, music in Germany , and Breton literature at the Sorbonne, all of which equipped him admirably for the task in hand. Aran was Irish-speaking, and his "fiddle" would ensure social acceptance. He was to call "The Aran Island," his first serious piece of work. He arrived on May 10, 1898, at Inishmore by steamer from Galway, spent two days at the grandly named, but really quite modest, Atlantic Hotel in Kilronan before moving on, by curragh, to the middle island, where the book really begins: "I am settled at least on Inishmaan in a small cottage with a continual drone of Gaelic coming from the kitchen that opens into my room" This was the MacDONAGH house, on the main island road below Dun Chonchuir, a short walk from the church and the post office. He described it: "My room is at one end of the cottage, with a boarded floor and ceiling, and two windows opposite each other. Then there is the kitchen with earth floor and open rafters, and two doors opposite each other opening into the open air, but no windows. Beyond it there are two small rooms of half the width of the kitchen with one window apiece...The kitchen itself, where I will spend most of my time, is fully of beauty and distinction. The red dresses of the women who ! cluster around the fire on their stools give a rich glow of almost Eastern richness, and the walls have been toned by the turf-smoke to a soft brown that blends with the grey earth-colour of the floor. Many sorts of fishing tackle, and the nets and oilskins of the men, are hung upon the walls or among the open rafters; and right overhead, under the thatch, there is a whole cowskin from which they made pampooties." (a word of Javanese origin, which are a type of shoe). "Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic beauty of medieval ife. The curraghs and spinning-wheels, the tiny wooden barrels that are still much used in the place of earthenware, and home-made cradles, churns and baskets, are all full of individuality, and being made from materials that are common here, yet to some extent peculiar to the island, they seem to exist as a natural link between the people an! d the world about them." Drowned men on these islands are identified by bits of their clothing. Women's red flannel skirts created a dramatic contrast to the surrounding world of grey. Synge commented that had "a strange sense of exile and desolation" as well as "tranquility" and he thought himself "a companion of the cormorants and crows." The island girls fascinated him - some were "tall girls" with frankness and modesty about them, an absence of self-regard that he found appealing and who "shared some of the liberal features thought peculiar to the women of Paris and New York." He did say that if there was tension or crisis in the air the women would become over-excited and speak loudly all at once; at those times he would take out his wallet of photographs and they would then clamber around him in an ordinary mood. Real Aran artificats were used in the first Abbey production of "Riders to the Sea," and members of the Druid Theatre were brought ashore before captivating islanders at a performance of Synge's "The Playboy of the Western World." Actor Macdara O FATHARTA has worked in several of Synge's plays including "The Well of the Saints," which is also Aran inspired. The MacDonagh cottage has been restored by London-based (1998) Treasa Ni Fhatharta the great-granddaughter of the family. Her brother is actor Macdara O Fatharta. Her mother, Maire Bean Ui Fhatharta, is granddaughter of the MacDonaghs whom Synge knew and lives next door to the MacDonagh cottage (now known as Synge's Cottage or Teach Synge) which remains in the family; her father's name is Micheal O Fatharta. In 1998 a Mairin CONCANNON apparently lived opposite the one pub. The island is only a distance of three miles from end to end, and the island church has a lovely CLARKE stained glass window. The late Maggie DIRRANE of Inishmore appears in both of these films - "How the Myth Was made," Prof. George STONEY of NY University's record of the making of "Man of Aran," Robert Flaherty's documentary classic. Tim ROBINSON's "Stones of Aran" volumes are another resource for researchers, as well as fine paintings by Sean KEATING. -- Excerpts, "Ireland of the Welcomes".

In 1995, an unassuming man from South Derry, a rural Catholic and farmer's son, won the Nobel Prize for Literature almost 30 years after he published his first book on poetry. Born in Mossbawn in 1939, Seamus Heaney joins other literary giants such as Yeats, Beckett and Shaw. Heaney has described his work - "Poetry grows like a moss inside you and at certain times you start picking it off. You can't sit down and do it just by willing it." Following ceasefires, Heaney wrote an article in a Scottish newspaper in which he stated that cessation of violence is an opportunity to open a space in the first level of each person's consciousness - a space where hope can be developed and grow. Hope, he said, is a state of the soul rather than a response to evidence. It is not the expectation that things will turn out successfully but the conviction that something is worth working for, however it turns out." Heaney also has said, "When the ceasefires were announced, there was an ! open if uncertain future ahead, just as there was a dark past behind." Today, the future of Ireland seems brighter than ever. A CHORUS Human Beings Suffer, They torture one another, They get hurt and get hard. No poem or play or song Can fully right a wrong, Inflicted and endured. The innocent in gaols Beat on their bars together. A hunger-striker's father Stands in the graveyard dumb. The police widow in veils Faints at the funeral home. History says, Don't hope On this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime The longed-for tidal wave Of justice can rise up, And hope and history rhyme. So hope for a great sea-change On the far side of revenge. Believe that a further shore Is reachable from here. Believe in miracles And cures and healing wells. Call miracle self-healing: The utter, self-revealing Double-take of feeling. If there's fire on the mountain Or lightning and storm And a god speaks from the sky That means someone is hearing The outcry and the birth-cry Or new life at its term. It means, once in a lifetime That justice can rise up, And hope and history rhyme. -- "A Chorus" from "The Cure at Troy," 1990

ON A POLITICAL PRISONER She that but little patience knew, >From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers' touch And from her fingers ate its bit. Did she in touching that lone wing Recall the years before her mind Became a bitter, an abstract thing, Her thought some popular enmity : Blind and leader of the blind Drinking the foul ditch where they lie? When long ago I saw her ride Under Ben Bulben to the meet, The beauty of her country-side With all youth's lonely wildness stirred, She seemed to have grown clean and sweet Like any rock-bred, sea-borne bird: Sea-borne, or balanced on the air When first it sprang out of the nest Upon some lofty rock to stare Upon the cloudy canopy, While under its storm-beaten breast Cried out the hollows of the sea. This poem was first published in "The Dial" in November 1920. The prisoner refers to lovely Irish Nationalist Countess Constance (Gore-Booth) Markiewicz. Although she was sentenced to death for her role in the Easter 1916 Rebellion, her sentence was ultimately commuted and she was released from prison on 18 June 1917. On 24 April 1916, the day after Easter Sunday, an Irish Republic had been proclaimed, and a force of approximately 700 Irish Volunteers occupied parts of Dublin; the rebellion was suppressed by the British forces with the final surrender occurring on the 19th of April. The word enmity refers to deep hatred, often between enemies. Yeats also refers to Ben Bulben, a mountain near Sligo, the principal town in Co. Sligo, in northwestern Ireland, the home of Yeats' maternal grandparents. Born in Dublin, Yeats spent a good portion of his early years in Sligo. Lissadell House, 4 miles (6 km) NW of Drumcliffe, is a 19th century Georgian house, the childhood home! of the Constance Gore-Booth and her sister Eva Gore-Booth. W. B. Yeats was a guest at their home regularly and slept in a bedroom above the porch. The dining and music rooms of Lisaddell House are particularly striking, as are the gardens with their masses of daffodils in spring, nearby pine forests and access to Drumcliffe Bay.

A COAT I made my song a coat Covered with embroideries Out of old mythologies >From heel to throat; But the fools caught it, Wore it in the world's eyes As though they'd wrought it. Song, let them take it, For there's more enterprise In walking naked. -- William Butler Yeats (1914)

"Random Acts of Genealogy Kindness" website may have a volunteer to help you obtain documents, acquire photos of tombstones, look-ups in directories, etc. Just type that title in your browser in place of the URL. There are also cemetery look-up e-mail lists on the web via Rootsweb. Check out what Rootsweb has to offer in the way of e-mail lists. Also check out Cyndi's List of Genealogical Websites: http://www.cyndislist.com/ Google Searches are great! Best to use advanced search and put in a few keywords to limit number of hits and zero in on what you are looking for. USA Social Security applications - Even though the price has gone up to approx. $27 each, these records give valuable information on your relatives --i.e. circa 1936 addresses, employment, as well as birthdate, place of birth. Can find/order these on-line. John Grenham's "Tracing Your Irish Ancestors" (1999 ed.)

Some Resources for Research: IreAtlas for townland information: http://www.seanruad.com/ An unusual given name may be a "surname in disguise," -- i.e., mother's maiden name. Names were repeated from one generation to the next. Often the first son and daughter carried the paternal grandparents' names, the second the maternal grandparents. 1. The Filby volumes in your genealogy library. Mr. Filby transcribed data on thousands of immigrants worldwide to the USA and Canada from hundreds of passenger lists and fragments thereof circa late 1700s to early 1900s. Keep track of which of the 10 or so volumes you have looked in, as they were published yearly circa 1980s. Names are alphabetical given info. to include destination, traveling companions.. 2. Perhaps your families or their grown children crossed back and forth across the Canada/USA border between 1895 to circa 1924/25. Check out the wonderful St. Alban's VT emigration/immigration border-crossing records. microfilms found in local LDS (Mormon) Family History Centers, also in branches of National Archives, Wash. DC. They are something of a misnomer. While the records were stored in the state of Vermont they pertain to aliens crossing back and forth at ANY point along the ENTIRE border. All of the travellers with the same surname (or similar) for that entire period of time would be found on 1-2 microfilms in alphabetic order. If you are looking for a John Edmund Smith, for example, also check information on John E. Smith, John Smith, as well as J. E. Smith, which would be on the same microfilm in close proximity to each other. The data is in the form of microfilmed cards and contain such valuable information as traveling companions, place of birth, date of birth, names and addresses of relatives in the "old" country, the same at the "intended destination," name of any ship or train involved in their travel, port, dates, and even descriptive information such as color of hair, eyes, identifying scars, etc. This information can even lead you to a second microfilm containing the ships' manifest. (I speak from experience. I got very lucky, as I had checked out these particular microfilms not expecting to find any connection to my family and Canada!). Liverpudlians might take a steamer such as the "Montcalm," land in Quebec City and immediately take a train across Canada, entering the USA at some point. It was a cheaper "package deal" offered by the Canadian Pacific Railway who also owned ships, rather than sailing straight to the U.S. (Note, St. Albans Soundex Film group is M1461.) I found information on my dad and his mother and and siblings not only when they immigrated but later, as they crossed back and forth across the border to visit, work, honeymoon, and as they left to return on visits to England. 3. My best advice -- For info. on those who immigrated to the USA, contact the county historical society in the area where they lived and died, see if a volunteer will help you obtain wills, land deed, and marriage applications for a donation to their society. First subscribe to their USA county periodical. Not only will it demonstrate your interest in "their" county (of which they have much expertise), but they are more likely to go "all out" for you in helping find documents on your particular family! In the periodical you can place queries that are seen by Internet and nonInternet researchers alike. The periodicals contain information families and towns, and most winter issues contain an every-name index for that year's issues. Turn of the century USA county marriage applications often give much information on the parents of the bride and groom; don't confuse these with marriage certificates. Wills, land records, b/m/d abstracts give info. on family relationships place of birth and/or last location lived. The secret to success is to obtain as many documents you can on the families in the KNOWN places they lived. 4. Old USA county history books obtained via free interlibrary loan program and your reference library in the USA (not sure about Canada) give information on families just because they were early settlers, belonged to particular agricultural, fraternal or religious organization, were involved in Civil War, were schoolteachers or held office of some sort. To my amazement, I found some of my "humble" farming ancestors written up in these old history books. You don't need the name of an author, just order "History of ____, ____," with the help of your reference librarian and fill in the name of the county and state. 5. Many old USA newspapers are microfilmed and available via free interlibrary loan; your reference librarian has books that tell her what is available for particular time periods, areas, what newspapers were in business, etc. Good way to locate death notices. Request the newspaper for the two days following death and check both the obit and the death notice sections. 6. If you don't have a definite death date but a good idea of where and when check out the LDS FHC microfilmed USA state death indexes that are divided into approximate ten-year increments. Info. includes date of death, age at death, county of death, spouse's name and number of death certificate! 7. There are USA Federal Census indexes in book form going all the way back to the Rev. War divided by state and census year at your genealogy libraries on the Index Shelf. 8. There MAY still be free census USA look-ups for particular USA counties: http://www.rootsweb.com/~uslookup/census.html. If not go to your local LDS (Mormon) Family History Center which is open to all; there are volunteers to assist you. If they don't have what you need on-site they will order it for from Salt Lake. 9. Be SURE and read about your surname in Irish and other surname books at your genealogy library for history behind the name, variations in spelling, distribution in Ireland. Some surnames were found more often in particular counties, even some exclusive to particular townlands. The surname Smith, for example, has different histories depending on which Irish county it is found in. 10. Ancestry.com has published booklets containing USA city directory data. They include several decades and help to replace some data for 1890, the census year that was accidently destroyed. 11. Check out surname information (circa 1890 births) at the Matheson databases on the Internet. (I note that one database is under the name "Mateson"). 12. I got lucky leaving a query at a school alumni board at an all-boys school in England that I thought my uncles' families may have attended. I really didn't expect a response, but lo, and behold, I got a transatlantic phone call from a gentleman in England, a retired teacher, who not only knew my cousins very well but takes one of them (Doris Ford) shopping there in Tunbridge Wells, Kent, England!. Not only did Mr. Michael Wheeler phone me with information but he sent me a copy of his book about nearby Langton Green where some of the family lives. Turns out he is a local historian, local photographer, and he even sent me a wedding photo of photo of one of my cousins. Bottom line, don't get discouraged -- Serendipity is alive and well! And don't forget to track down ALL our living relatives for their help. You may find just the right clue to Irish origins in their memories or references in their old photo albums.

SNIPPET: It is widely known that today Gaelic is the musical mother tongue in parts of Connemara (Co. Galway) as it is on many of the offshore islands. Less know is that, ironically, Co. Meath today is the only county in the province of Leinster where the Gaelic tongue is still spoken. The Gaeltacht region in the parish of Rath Chairn near Athboy is not the result of the tenacity of a small group of the indigenous population, however, but stems from a social experiment of the 1930s in which families from the beautiful region of Connemara left their infertile, rocky and tiny parcels of land in the west to take up small-holdings on an estate which was divided among them.

SNIPPET: Province of Leinster - Fairyhouse in County Meath, home of the Irish Grand National, is one of Ireland's premier racecourses. First run in 1870, when it was won by "Sir Robert Peel" owned by Mr. L. DUNNE, the Grand National quickly became Ireland's most valuable and prestigious steeplechase. Over the years each race has had its own rich tale, none more amazing than the win in 1929 of a six-year-old mare, "Alike," owned and ridden by Frank WISE who was missing three fingers and who rode with a wooden leg!

Mary, Baltimore townland is 615 acres in Co. Cork in the Barony of West Carbery, Civil Parish of Tullagh, Poor Law Union of Skibbereen, Province of Munster. There is also a Baltimore Town in the same area. Baltimore is 8 miles (18 km) SW of Skibbeern. It is a centuries old fishing village full of atmosphere. The tall, whitewashed "Beacon" offers fine view of the harbor and Skerkin Island across the bay, per my 1980s tourist guide. At that time there were regular passenger sailings to Clear Island, also boats to Hare Island and Long Island, also in Roaring Water Bay. Nearby Barley Cove has a magnificent sandy beach. Robert R. Matheson compiled a database of the occurrences of births (5 or more) in Ireland in 1890. There were a total of 136 O'Sullivan births that year, 6 in the Province of Connaught, 0 in the Province of Ulster, 8 in the Province of Leinster, and 122 in the Province of Munster (Kerry with the most, then Cork, followed by Limerick). ---- Original Message ----- From: "Mary E. YOung" <meyoung@syix.com> To: "'Jean Rice'" <jeanrice@cet.com> Sent: Saturday, October 05, 2002 3:17 PM Subject: RE: [IGW] Irish Provinces > Where would I look for Baltimore, Cork? Family lore says my O'Sullivans > came from there, but inquiries there say only that it's O'Dwyer > territory, and there were never any O'Sullivan's there-- > Mary E. Young, California, USA > > -----Original Message----- > From: Jean Rice [mailto:jeanrice@cet.com] > Sent: Tuesday, October 01, 2002 9:54 AM > To: IrelandGenWeb-L@rootsweb.com > Subject: [IGW] Irish Provinces > > IRISH PROVINCES > > CONNACHT -- Cos. Galway, Leitrim, Mayo, Roscommon & Sligo. > > MUNSTER-- Cos. Clare, Cork, Kerry, Limerick, Tipperary & Waterford. > > LEINSTER -- Cos. Carlow, Dublin, Kildare, Kilkenny, Laois (Queen's > Co./Leix), Longford, Louth, Meath, Offaly (King's Co.), Westmeath, > Wexford & Wicklow. > > ULSTER -- Two subdivisions: (1) Republic of Ireland with Cos. Cavan, > Donegal and Monaghan. (2) Northern Ireland with Cos. Antrim, Armagh, > Derry/Londonderry, Down, Fermanagh & Tyrone. > > Added notes: Connacht is often spelled Connaught. > "Connemara" is part of Co. Galway > >

Emigration - One of these final partings was witnessed by a writer named Harriet MARTINEAU, "Letters from Ireland," pub. London 1852. The writer, who frowned upon grief openly expressed reacted accordingly with a peculiarily British blend of sympathy and disdain, prejudice and an assumption of moral superiority: "The last embraces were terrible to see; but worse were the kissings and the claspings of the hands during the long minutes that remained...When we saw the wringing of hands and heard the wailings, we became aware, for the first time perhaps, of the full dignity of that civilisation which induces control over the expression of emotions. All the while that this lamentation was giving (me) a headache...there could not but be a feeling that these people, thus giving vent to their instincts, were as children, and would command themselves better when they were wiser. Still, there it was, the pain and the passion: and the shrill united cry...rings in our ears, and long will ring when we hear of emigration." A description of an emigrant's parting is also found in manuscript #1411, Irish Folklore Department, University College, Dublin: "...It was just like a big funeral..and the last parting...was indeed sad to see...The parents especially were so sad, as if the person leaving were really dead...You would rather not be there at all if you would be any way soft yourself."

FOLLOWER My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue. An expert. He would set the wing And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. The sod rolled over without breaking. At the headrig, with a single pluck Of reins, the sweating team turned round And back into the land. His eye Narrowed and angled at the ground, Mapping the furrow exactly. I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Sometimes he rode me on his back Dipping and rising to his plod. I wanted to grow up and plough, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. All I ever did was follow In his broad shadow round the farm. I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is my father who keeps stumbling Behind me, and will not go away. -- Seamus Heaney

BRIAN O'LINN Brian O'Linn was a gentleman born, His hair it was long and his beard unshorn, His teeth were out and his eyes far in -- "I'm a wonderful beauty," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn was hard up for a coat, He borrowed the skin of a neighboring goat, He buckled the horns right under his chin -- "They'll answer for pistols,: says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no breeches to wear, He got him a sheepskin to make him a pair, With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in -- "They are pleasant and cool," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no hat to his head, He stuck on a pot that was under the shed, He murdered a cod for the sake of his fin -- "'T will pass for a feather," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no shirt to his back, He went to a neighbor and borrowed a sack, He puckered a meal-bag under his chin -- "They'll take it for ruffles," said Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no shoes at all, He bought an old pair at a cobbler's stall, The uppers were broke and the soles were thin -- "They'll do me for dancing, " said Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn had no watch for to wear, He bought a fine turnip and scooped it out fair, He slipped a live cricket right under the skin -- "They'll think it is ticking," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn was in want of a brooch, He stuck a brass pin in a big cockroach, The breast of his shirt he fixed it straight in -- "They'll think it's a diamond," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn went a-courting one night, He set both the mother and daughter to fight -- "Stop, stop," he exclaimed, "if you have but the tin, I'll marry you both," says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn went to bring his wife home, He had but one horse, that was all skin and bone -- "I'll put her behind me, as nate as a pin, And her mother before me, " says Brian O'Linn! Brian O'Linn and his wife and wife's mother, They all crossed over the bridge together, The bridge broke down and they all tumbled in -- "We'll go home by water," says Brian O'Linn! -- Anonymous

Richard LOVETT, a visitor to Ireland, traveled across the length and breadth of Ireland, keeping a careful journal that was first published in 1888 by the Religious Tract Society. His notes reveal his appreciation of the breathtaking Irish countryside, its people and their way of life, the architecture, beautifully-illuminated books and marvelous artifacts. Of the Donegal peasantry, he said, "They are a fine sturdy race, well-made and seemingly well-fed. There are not the evident signs of mental quickness so readily seen in some districts of Ireland, and the hints that life is a hard struggle with poverty are abundant, but they are self-reliant and free from all tendency to cringe. They are not forward to make advances, but they respond readily to the kindly look or the civil word. Until recently, perhaps more than in many parts, they were strongly swayed by their landlords, and on this account possibly the Home Rule feeling runs very strongly among them. But they do not obtrude this side of their life upon the passing stranger. There was nothing of the wild pursuit of tourists by child-beggars, and grown-up beggars, and nothing of the fierce scowl at all supposed well-to-do people, which I have been told we should find in this land ripe for revolution. And though they were as poor as poor could be - a poverty which our English poor could hardly realize - they all looked respectable; a word which implies more than at first appears, since a man who is worthy of respect must first respect himself. They would have been a problem to many English who pass rash and harsh judgments upon Ireland. Nothing strikes one more in Donegal, or indeed, throughout Ireland, than the exceedingly wholesomeness of the children. Ragged they may be, thin, and half-starved, but they are seldom either crippled or diseased. They can run like hares, and spring like wild-cats; they look up at you fearlessly with their big, bright, Irish eyes, and grin at you with their dazzling teeth, till you laugh in spite of yourself, and they laugh back again, as if, in spite of all this misery, life were a capital joke."

Richard LOVETT, a visitor to Ireland, traveled across the length and breadth of Ireland, keeping a careful journal that was first published in 1888 by the Religious Tract Society. His notes reveal his appreciation of the breathtaking Irish countryside, its people and their way of life, the architecture, beautifully-illuminated books and marvelous artifacts. Of the Donegal peasantry, he said, "They are a fine sturdy race, well-made and seemingly well-fed. There are not the evident signs of mental quickness so readily seen in some districts of Ireland, and the hints that life is a hard struggle with poverty are abundant, but they are self-reliant and free from all tendency to cringe. They are not forward to make advances, but they respond readily to the kindly look or the civil word. Until recently, perhaps more than in many parts, they were strongly swayed by their landlords, and on this account possibly the Home Rule feeling runs very strongly among them. But they do not obtrude this side of their life upon the passing stranger. There was nothing of the wild pursuit of tourists by child-beggars, and grown-up beggars, and nothing of the fierce scowl at all supposed well-to-do people, which I have been told we should find in this land ripe for revolution. And though they were as poor as poor could be - a poverty which our English poor could hardly realize - they all looked respectable; a word which implies more than at first appears, since a man who is worthy of respect must first respect himself. They would have been a problem to many English who pass rash and harsh judgments upon Ireland. Nothing strikes one more in Donegal, or indeed, throughout Ireland, than the exceedingly wholesomeness of the children. Ragged they may be, thin, and half-starved, but they are seldom either crippled or diseased. They can run like hares, and spring like wild-cats; they look up at you fearlessly with their big, bright, Irish eyes, and grin at you with their dazzling teeth, till you laugh in spite of yourself, and they laugh back again, as if, in spite of all this misery, life were a capital joke."

Paddy DEVLIN died at the age of 77 in 1986, leaving behind a typescript of nearly 170,000 words describing a career which began in a place called The Rock near Buncrana in Co. Donegal. He had a great memory and a good command of words to describe a life which saw the War of Independence and the Civil War, work as a servant boy for Ulster farmers, work as a laborer for British building firms, a spell in the British Army, another period doing all sorts of jobs and picking up enough educational certificates to "paper a bedroom." War brought his recall to the colors which took him to northern France in World War II and to the retreat from Dunkirk. After demobilization, work as a post office engineer, in trade unionism and as a small farmer brought him at last to retirement and the making of a record of his life. His niece Kathleen BARR edited the manuscript and saw to it that Paddy DEVLIN and the many men and women he represents were not, in their turn, destined for oblivion. "That Was The Way Of It," by P. J. Devlin (ed. Kathleen Barr), published within the last year or two by Mercier Press (ISBN 1-85635-354-0) paperback. Perhaps you can locate a copy if the subject interests you. Review, "Irish Roots" magazine.

Bassett's Louth Guide & Directory, first published in 1886, is so scarce it has been reprinted. (No doubt, the National Library of Ireland, Dublin has a copy, however). Per article in a 1999 "Irish Roots" period, a high-quality facsimile of this valuable 418-page trade directory was reprinted by the Co. Louth Archaelogical & Historical Society, Oliver Plunkett Park, Dundalk, Co. Louth, Ireland. (At that time the cost was 3 pounds for those in IR and the UK, and 5 pounds abroad. Perhaps they still have copies). Valuable information regarding circa 1886 manufacturers, professions, landowners, merchants, traders, farmers, local businesses is included. There are 250 advertisements! Most of these pertain to Co. Louth businesses which are long gone, but the information also includes some references to adjoining areas such as Iniskeen, Co. Meath and Forkhill & Ballsmill, Co. Armagh. I note that a researcher, Patrick Garland, left a message a couple years ago on the Rootsweb Message Boards that he had a copy and would be happy to do look-ups. At that time, his e-mail was pgarland6@juno.com

A mile or thereabouts out of Omeath on the Carlingford Road there was an open-air shrine popularly known as Calvary: its official name was Mount St. Carmel. There was an altar, and the field was laid out as the Stations of the Cross. At every station there was an image of the Agony, culminating in the Crucifixion. It was a standard trip to make. You could walk, if you had a mind to, or go by horse and jaunting car, a jollier method and pleasant on a sunny day. The jaunting car held four people, not counting the driver, two on either side. While the men were drinking in the public houses up from the jetty, the women and children made the little pilgrimage to Calvary. The Stations of the Cross are a rare devotion now but were common in my day: women, especially, did the stations in the few minutes before Mass. At each of the fourteen stations you recited the appropriate phrase: the first station, Jesus is condemned to death; the second station, Jesus is stripped of ! his garments. The first time I heard the word "afflicted" was at the stations: Jesus meets his afflicted mother. Jesus falls the first time. If a priest were conducting the service, he called out the title of the station - Veronica wipes our Lord's face - and asked the congregation to "consider" some aspect of the event. At the end of the consideration he said: "I love Thee, Jesus, my love above all things. I repent of my whole heart for having offended Thee. Never permit me to separate myself from Thee again. Grant that I may love Thee always, and then do with me what Thou wilt." Was it the Our Father or the Hail Mary that followed, when priest and congregation knelt down? Isn't it odd that I can't remember the detail while I recall easily the ritual that preceded it? -- Denis Donoghue, "Warrenpoint," 1991.

Arthur MacMorrough KAVANAGH was a popular Carlow landlord. The following are paragraphs from a book with the title "The Incredible Mr. Kavanagh" by Donald McCormick. page 156 "The Kavanagh custom of holding an unofficial court from the stone mounting-block which surrounded the old oak in the courtyard of Borris House was kept up by Arthur. There, like a chieftain in the midst of his vassals, he would sit patiently listening to all who came from far and near, with their tales of perplexity or grievance, to seek counsel or redress [somewhat melodramatically wrote Mrs Steele]. All were received, men and women alike, with the same unfailing sympathy, and many a curious piece of family history or story of impending feud could that old tree reveal. But it could also tell of the invariably just decision, given with the cheery, sympathetic smile and words that robbed even an adverse 'ruling' of all sting. Nor was it only in matters of dispute that he was consulted by them, or his mediation sought. Many a happy marriage between 'likely' parties was planned and made by him under the shadow of the old oak tree." page 159 "He had a passion for pets of all kinds. A young bear was kept chained up in the courtyard and its 'house' was near enough to the oak tree for him to entice it out to sit beside him during these 'courts'. He would play with the bear and talk to it throughout the proceedings, though no one else would dare touch the animal and the villagers were terrified of it. The legend that it was a bear he had captured in India was propagated, but there was no truth in this. The animal was eventually given to the Dublin Zoo.