SNIPPET: Much has been written about the disappearance of the corncrake from the fields and meadows of Ireland, but the humble cricket, once a resident of almost every rural hearth, has all but vanished from Irish country life, unnoticed and unsung. Accidentally introduced into Ireland from the semi-tropical Mediterranean in the 17th century, they found comfort in the Emerald Isle only around the warm hearth and chimney corners. Hot sunny days enticed them out to the ditches and hedgerows, but they returned to the fireplace at harvest time with the onset of colder weather. Crickets evoked only two emotions in country homes long ago, a great affection or intense dislike, and both of these sentiments were firmly rooted in Irish country folklore which held that they brought either good or bad luck depending on which you believed. One woman was to recall that her husband would bang the tongs on the hob three times and say, "If you came for good luck, stay, but if ye came for bad luck, go." Rarely seen in the daytime, it was when night fell that they came to life, moving out from their secret hiding places by the fire to forage. Their musical chirping, produced by the male in an effort to attract a mate, could be heard in almost every country house in Ireland until the rapid modernization of housing that took placed in the early 1960s. The replacement of flagstone floors with concrete, sod-lined thatched roofs with slate and lime walls with cement left no comfort or place for the little creatures to hide. Long ago people believed that their departure foretold a death. Elderly Jimmy FLYNN of Laughty Barr, near Kiltyclogher, has been a gentle guardian and protector of a thriving brood of crickets. Living alone in a house where the warm hearth fire was the focus and heart of his cozy kitchen, he remarked, "They sit up on me shoulder there and sing to me at night. They never did a hate wrong to me, they make lovely music in the summer, all night long, like a French fiddle. Sometimes that's a sign of rain coming. If you bother them though the least they'll do is cut holes in yer socks, but if you lave them alone they'll lave you alone." It's almost too late now to save the humble cricket - that's even if anyone wanted to. There are no nature preserves left aside for them, their fate is sealed. Still, their passing will be mourned by some who fondly remember them, just as is yellow home-made butter, sweet country buttermilk or the lovelorn "kraak-kraak" call of the corncrake seeking a mate in the honeysweet, morning meadowfields of long ago. Excerpt, yearly "Leitrim Guardian" a handful of years ago.

SNIPPET: Per the Nov/Dec 2008 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine, this popular Munster province surname was first recorded in Co. Tipperary, although O'SULLIVANs are believed to be direct descendants of the first Celts who settled in Ireland as far back as 300 BC. Later, the name began cropping up in other Munster counties, where it is still most widely found - in fact, over 80% of Ireland's O'SULLIVANs can be found in Cork and Kerry. The exact meaning of the name is still a topic of debate among scholars. It is agreed that the Irish 'suil' is the root word of the surname, meaning 'eye,' but it is to this day uncertain whether the name as a whole means 'hawk-eyed' or 'one-eyed,' with some even claiming that there is a derivative of dubh (black) in the original surname, making it meaning 'little dark-eyed one.' Whatever its true meaning, the O'SULLIVAN tribe was no doubt a force to be reckoned with from an early stage in history, with a family motto of An Lamh Fhoisteanach Abu, or 'The Steady to Victory.' Following the Anglo-Norman invasion, the O'SULLIVANs became a powerful and plentiful tribe, with the O'Sullivan Mor sept settling in South Kerry, and the O'Sullivan Beares in West Cork. Along with the McCARTHYs and O'DONOHUES, the O'SULLIVAN clan defeated the Normans in 1261 at the battle of Caisglin, and again in battle the following year, helping to establish boundaries between the Normans of North Kerry and the Gaels of South Kerry and Cork. Maureen O'SULLIVAN, who starred in many movies and was regarded as Ireland's first film star, was born in Boyle, Co. Roscommon. Her roles included Jane in the Tarzan series. She died in 1998, and her children include the actress Mia FARROW.

CLIMBER All summer the clematis wilted in a container The trefoil leaves were pale their roots repressed in silence. Until a climber was planted out back - filled with dark earth. Shoots discovered new found space growing with energy from suns an awareness of moons. Now the faint-scented pink and white flowers are dancing in the sky, foliage spread benignly camouflaging the grey of winter looking ahead to layering in spring. -- Paddy Glavin "Seeing the Wood and the Trees," ed. Rowley & Haughton, Cairde Na Coille, Forest Friends Ireland/Rowan Tree Press ( 2003).

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 (1924-2008)

THE BRIDGE TO AMERICA On board the rotting coffin ships they fingered icons, beads, invoked the Sacred Heart of Christ, my Sligo forbears, proud in rags, with mouths of crooked teeth, the meek who dared inherit earth. Unswayed by intimations scrawled across prophetic winds they hailed the solitude of stars. At last a landfall came in view, a dark expanse of coast, this brooding New Hibernia. I picture them on rundown wharfs, the greenhorns striking out for Canaans all across the land. Pretenders to the whirlwind night, the vast unchosen staked their claims, the meek who dared inherit earth. -- T. S. Kerrigan

Joan, well said - and any woman who chose, from the kindness of her heart, to put herself in that horrendous, bloody environment to comfort the wounded, WAS truly an "angel." J. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Joan McKenty" <joanmariemckenty@yahoo.com> To: <irish-american@rootsweb.com> Sent: Tuesday, October 14, 2008 10:02 AM Subject: Re: [IRISH-AMER] Walt WHITMAN/Poet of ACW -- Observation -- "Irishnurse....tenderly...." Thank you for this beautiful post. I appreciate WW's appreciation of this nurse. However, there are assumptions imbedded in the word "illiterate" that do not recognize that people of oral traditions, non literate traditions, hold within them their own knowledge and genius. Joan

DEDICATION I speak with a proud tongue of the people who were And the people who are, The worthy of Ardara, the Rosses and Inishkeel, My kindred -- The people of the hills and the dark-haired passes My neighbours on the lift of the brae, In the lap of the valley. To them Slainthe! I speak of the old men, The wrinkle-rutted, Who dodder about foot-weary -- For their day is as the day that has been and is no more -- Who warm their feet by the fire, And recall memories of the times that are gone; Who kneel in the lamplight and pray For the peace that has been theirs -- And who beat one dry-veined hand against another Even in the sun -- For the coldness of death is on them. I speak of the old women Who danced to yesterday's fiddle And dance no longer. They sit in a quiet place and dream And see visions Of what is to come, Of their issue, Which has blossomed to manhood and womanhood -- And seeing thus They are happy For the day that was leaves no regrets, And peace is theirs, And perfection. I speak of the strong men Who shoulder their burdens in the hot day, Who stand on the market-place And bargain in loud voices, Showing their stock to the world. Straight the glance of their eyes -- Broad-shouldered, Supple. Under their feet the holms blossom, The harvest yields. And their path is of prosperity. I speak of the women, Strong-hipped, full-bosomed, Who drive the cattle to graze at dawn, Who milk the cows at dusk. Grace in their homes, And in the crowded ways Modest and seemly -- Mother of children! I speak of the children Of the many townlands, Blossoms of the Bogland, Flowers of the Valley, Who know not yesterday, nor to-morrow, And are happy, The pride of those who have begot them. And thus it is, Ever and always, In Ardara, the Rosses and Inishkeel -- Here, as elsewhere, The Weak, the Strong and the Blossoming -- And thus my kindred. To them Slainthe. -- Patrick MacGill (born 1890)

Thank you for this beautiful post. I appreciate WW's appreciation of this nurse.  However, there are assumptions imbedded in the word "illiterate"  that do not recognize that people of oral traditions, non literate traditions, hold within them their own knowledge and genius.  Joan --- On Tue, 10/14/08, Jean R. <jeanrice@cet.com> wrote: From: Jean R. <jeanrice@cet.com> Subject: [IRISH-AMER] Walt WHITMAN/Poet of ACW -- Observation -- "Irish nurse....tenderly...." To: IRISH-AMERICAN-L@rootsweb.com Date: Tuesday, October 14, 2008, 11:08 AM SNIPPET: During the Civil War, while working as a volunteer throughout the conflict in Washington DC's overcrowded, understaffed military hospitals, American poet Walt WHITMAN wrote in a notebook -- "One of the finest nurses I met was a red-faced illiterate old Irish woman, I have seen her take the poor wasted naked boys so tenderly up in her arms." Whitman was born in West Hills, Long Island, NY, in 1819, and grew up in Brooklyn. He was a printer and journalist in the NYC area, very patriotic and a great observer of people. As a hospital volunteer in his 40s, he did what he could to make the sick and wounded more comfortable -- writing letters, reading to them, bringing them oranges, or merely sitting quietly by so they didn't have to die alone. He wrote his observations regularly in several notebooks. After suffering a stroke in 1873, Whitman spent the rest of his life in Camden, NJ, where he continued to write poems and articles until his death in 1892. His poem, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" was written on the occasion of the death of Abraham LINCOLN. Interestingly, he received literary acclaim from English writers long before American critics recognized him as a great poet. RECONCILIATION Word over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin -- I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin. Walt Whitman (1865-6) YEAR THAT TREMBLED AND REEL'D BENEATH ME Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me! Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me, Must I change my triumphant songs! said I to myself, Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled? And sullen hymns of defeat? Walt Whitman (1865) A SIGHT IN CAMP IN THE DAYBREAK GRAY AND DIM A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless, As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by the hospital tent, Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there untended lying, Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woolen blanket, Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all. Curious I halt and silent stand, Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the first just lift the blanket; Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-gray'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes? Who are you my dear comrade? Then to the second I step -- and who are you my child and darling? Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming? Then to the third - face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man I think I know you -- I think this face is the face of the Christ himself, Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies. -- Walt Whitman (1865) ====Irish American Mailing List===== Add/check your surname to the Irish-American mailing list Surname Registry at: http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrishAmerican/ ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to IRISH-AMERICAN-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

SNIPPET: During the Civil War, while working as a volunteer throughout the conflict in Washington DC's overcrowded, understaffed military hospitals, American poet Walt WHITMAN wrote in a notebook -- "One of the finest nurses I met was a red-faced illiterate old Irish woman, I have seen her take the poor wasted naked boys so tenderly up in her arms." Whitman was born in West Hills, Long Island, NY, in 1819, and grew up in Brooklyn. He was a printer and journalist in the NYC area, very patriotic and a great observer of people. As a hospital volunteer in his 40s, he did what he could to make the sick and wounded more comfortable -- writing letters, reading to them, bringing them oranges, or merely sitting quietly by so they didn't have to die alone. He wrote his observations regularly in several notebooks. After suffering a stroke in 1873, Whitman spent the rest of his life in Camden, NJ, where he continued to write poems and articles until his death in 1892. His poem, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" was written on the occasion of the death of Abraham LINCOLN. Interestingly, he received literary acclaim from English writers long before American critics recognized him as a great poet. RECONCILIATION Word over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin -- I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin. Walt Whitman (1865-6) YEAR THAT TREMBLED AND REEL'D BENEATH ME Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me! Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me, Must I change my triumphant songs! said I to myself, Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled? And sullen hymns of defeat? Walt Whitman (1865) A SIGHT IN CAMP IN THE DAYBREAK GRAY AND DIM A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless, As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by the hospital tent, Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there untended lying, Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woolen blanket, Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all. Curious I halt and silent stand, Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the first just lift the blanket; Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-gray'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes? Who are you my dear comrade? Then to the second I step -- and who are you my child and darling? Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming? Then to the third - face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man I think I know you -- I think this face is the face of the Christ himself, Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies. -- Walt Whitman (1865)

>From Famine to Five Points: Lord Lansdowne's Irish Tenants Encounter North America's Most Notorious Slum by TYLER ANBINDER http://www.historycooperative.org/journals/ahr/107.2/ah0202000351.html -- Pat Connors, Sacramento CA http://www.connorsgenealogy.com

Thank you Jean Rice for this letter re "" the Earthquake1906''.. The information it reveals is and should be a unique learning document for generations...i am still researching my Shea line eg arch bishop thomas o'shea son of Edmond and Johanna o'sullivan born san Francisco but moved to anew Zealand.. Edmonds parents were Thomas shea and Nellie Miles.. there were 11 chn born at whitesland KK near Callan .. then the family disappears from there .. birthdates 1820 -- 1840--..Have just got Dna Results for our family line..which link to Borrisoleigh KERRY and Ballyferriter more distantly.. Would love to share our info..So much food for thought in this letter .. nz is also right on the fault line ..our thermal activity vents hopefully will keep on gently venting and allay a big one.. oh to be so lucky;; Warm wishes.. Helen O'shea Kingi NZ sginal Message----- From: irish-american-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:irish-american-bounces@rootsweb.com] On Behalf Of Jean R. Sent: Sunday, 12 October 2008 8:25 a.m. To: IRISH-AMERICAN-L@rootsweb.com Subject: [IRISH-AMER] San Francisco Earthquake/Fire (1906) -- Excerpt Letter/Frederick H. COLLINS (1869-1922) SNIPPET: An enormous earthquake on April 18, 1906, followed by four days of fires set off by overturned stoves, fallen lanterns, and broken gas pipes, destroyed much of San Francisco, CA. Hundreds were killed and thousands more injured; 514 city blocks were devastated and more than half of the city's 450,000 residents were left homeless -- an estimated Richter scale reading of 8.3. Frederick H. COLLINS (1869-1922) was co-owner of a women's clothing shop that was burned in the fire. Nellie Alice COLLINS (Fred's sister) was in OR at the time. Robert Knox COLLINS owned a cigar store. Max KOENIG was COLLINS' partner. Floyd McKENNY was a reporter for the "San Francisco Bulletin." April 24, 1906. "My Dears - I don't know when I will get to write again so send this for me to Nell and then you (Nell) send it to mamma -- The pouring rain compels us to stay in at Sadies, and our two trips to what was S. F. made us Thank God! to get back. From the ferry to Van Ness it looks like a gray and black graveyard, as far as you can see, there isn't a home visible until you get within a few blocks of Van Ness. The fire passed way beyond Van Ness on both sides of the City. Rob was wiped out same as Max and I. We haven't heard from nor seen him yet but Floyd McKenny saw him with some of his household goods being driven toward the Park. Max and I stayed out on Buchanan and Sutter with a friend of ours. But what a night. We felt that if we got home here alive again we would stay here, for no lights of any kind are the houses and they take a shot at you if you are out after 8:30 p.m. So you sit in pitch darkness with a gloomy pall of smoke over your heads and a graveyard silence and an occasional earthquake tremor. We never closed our eyes that night an it began to rain and a cold mournful wind began to howl around open chimney holes and busted roofs. At 5 o'clock a rifle shot was heard on the block and some young fellow fell dead who was misprudent enough to venture out to borrow some whiskey for his sick mother. A soldier ordered him to throw it away and shot him for refusing. This is only one of the many cases. When daylight came we helped cook our breakfast in the street where rich and poor alike squat side by side cooking on brick stoves, and then all go stand in line to get their share of provisions. No one is allowed to sell a thing there but every thing left in stores has been distributed, and loads are coming in every day. We tried to find some of our friends but it's almost impossible. We found Mrs. Young. She has joined the red cross forces and is begging clothes to put on the new born babies in the parks. She had 18 to clothe in one day. Soon as they are born they just have to roll them in some old coat or rags until they find clothes. One woman had triplets. Then on top of all yesterday, the rain just poured in torrents soaking bedding, grass and ground and people's clothes. With it a cold wind. People are draggled with mud, and there is hardly a house left that isn't twisted or unsafe. Some are toppled into the streets. Some are leaning over on their next door neighbors, and stone stairs fallen away from front doors. Church towers of stone have crashed and crushed into homes besides them. Many places crushing the occupants. No one will ever know the hundreds that were killed under fallen buildings and then buried. Valencia St. has slid 40 feet out of its course and a hotel on that street and Market collapsed, killed 103 out of 106 that were in it. The earth split open there wide enough for a man to fall in and you can hear a running river or creek under it. Another street a little mound raised up and burst open and a little fountain of regular clear mountain spring water is shooting up out of it....." -- Excerpt, ."America 1900-1999, Letters of the Century," ed. Grunwald and Adler (1999) ====Irish American Mailing List===== Add/check your surname to the Irish-American mailing list Surname Registry at: http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrishAmerican/ ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to IRISH-AMERICAN-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

SNIPPET: Handsome and impeccably dressed, John O'CONNOR and Joseph KELLEHER are among those pictured in the Official Programme of the Irish Fair which was given by the Celtic Union at Mechanics Pavilion, San Francisco in Aug-Sept 1898, primarily as a fundraiser for the purchase of land for the proposed United Irish Societies Hall.. Afternoon concerts of classical music were performed by BENNETT's Exposition Band. Booths included Cong Abbey Lemonade Booth, Official Souvenir Programme Booth, Lakes of Killarney Booth, Dewey Victory Booth, Irish Fair Button Booth, Badges and Button Booth, Celtic Union Hall Stock Booth, Floral Booth, Soda Water Booth, Pop Corn Crisps Booth, Coffee and Sandwiches Booth, and, of course, there were many Exhibitors. Note is made of one programme advertisement stating -- "The Emerald Isle produces a host of good things. California has a few herself; one of her best products is the water from Napa Soda Springs, sold everywhere as Jackson's Napa Soda." Eight years later the Great San Francisco Earthquake and Fire would destroy many buildings - perhaps, the new hall?. Per the programme - "O'CONNOR & KELLEHER - The visitors to the Irish Fair will readily recognize in the illustrations in this space two bright and worthy young business men of San Francisco, who have endeavored in times past to entertain to the best of their ability thousands of persons at various times by their talented work, and skillful and graceful jig dancing. They have always shown prompt willingness to respond to any call for their services, and by their dancing they have been of splendid assistance to many a good cause. The fact that they were to appear and dance has proved a drawing card many a time, and has been instrumental in the success of many a function. In their business as tailors and shirt-makers they are now established in the new Examiner Building, and those who desire the best work at reasonable prices should call on them. They are bright young men, as bright in their trade as otherwise, and will give full satisfaction. Both have had years of experience, have worked for the best houses on this coast, have helped, therefore, in the success of others, and it is time they should try and build up for themselves. And we are sure our people, who are quick to appreciate what is worthy, will back them up. They are our own, and have proven themselves true, and we should reciprocate."

On Oct 11, 2008, at 1:25 PM, Jean R. wrote: > An enormous earthquake on April 18, 1906 Thanks for passing this along Jean. We all remember the quake, but we cannot quite imagine how it was for those who lived there. A letter like this adds a bit of understanding. -- Doras Cúil Travel--Your one-stop travel source Do you like to travel? How about wholesale, AND tax-deductible? Ask me how. http://www.dorascuil.com

Hello all. I thought I wrote to you all, but I have not seen my message yet. I'm new to this, and I know my 2x great-grand-father was born/baptized in Galway, came to America in mid-late 1800's and wound up in Brookline, Massachusetts. He was married abt 1869 ish in Brookline, Mass, county of Norfolk, so he was here before 1869. Would anyone know "how" I can find ship's manifests from Ireland to Boston area? Thank you for any help. D **************New MapQuest Local shows what's happening at your destination. Dining, Movies, Events, News & more. Try it out (http://local.mapquest.com/?ncid=emlcntnew00000002)

SNIPPET: An enormous earthquake on April 18, 1906, followed by four days of fires set off by overturned stoves, fallen lanterns, and broken gas pipes, destroyed much of San Francisco, CA. Hundreds were killed and thousands more injured; 514 city blocks were devastated and more than half of the city's 450,000 residents were left homeless -- an estimated Richter scale reading of 8.3. Frederick H. COLLINS (1869-1922) was co-owner of a women's clothing shop that was burned in the fire. Nellie Alice COLLINS (Fred's sister) was in OR at the time. Robert Knox COLLINS owned a cigar store. Max KOENIG was COLLINS' partner. Floyd McKENNY was a reporter for the "San Francisco Bulletin." April 24, 1906. "My Dears - I don't know when I will get to write again so send this for me to Nell and then you (Nell) send it to mamma -- The pouring rain compels us to stay in at Sadies, and our two trips to what was S. F. made us Thank God! to get back. From the ferry to Van Ness it looks like a gray and black graveyard, as far as you can see, there isn't a home visible until you get within a few blocks of Van Ness. The fire passed way beyond Van Ness on both sides of the City. Rob was wiped out same as Max and I. We haven't heard from nor seen him yet but Floyd McKenny saw him with some of his household goods being driven toward the Park. Max and I stayed out on Buchanan and Sutter with a friend of ours. But what a night. We felt that if we got home here alive again we would stay here, for no lights of any kind are the houses and they take a shot at you if you are out after 8:30 p.m. So you sit in pitch darkness with a gloomy pall of smoke over your heads and a graveyard silence and an occasional earthquake tremor. We never closed our eyes that night an it began to rain and a cold mournful wind began to howl around open chimney holes and busted roofs. At 5 o'clock a rifle shot was heard on the block and some young fellow fell dead who was misprudent enough to venture out to borrow some whiskey for his sick mother. A soldier ordered him to throw it away and shot him for refusing. This is only one of the many cases. When daylight came we helped cook our breakfast in the street where rich and poor alike squat side by side cooking on brick stoves, and then all go stand in line to get their share of provisions. No one is allowed to sell a thing there but every thing left in stores has been distributed, and loads are coming in every day. We tried to find some of our friends but it's almost impossible. We found Mrs. Young. She has joined the red cross forces and is begging clothes to put on the new born babies in the parks. She had 18 to clothe in one day. Soon as they are born they just have to roll them in some old coat or rags until they find clothes. One woman had triplets. Then on top of all yesterday, the rain just poured in torrents soaking bedding, grass and ground and people's clothes. With it a cold wind. People are draggled with mud, and there is hardly a house left that isn't twisted or unsafe. Some are toppled into the streets. Some are leaning over on their next door neighbors, and stone stairs fallen away from front doors. Church towers of stone have crashed and crushed into homes besides them. Many places crushing the occupants. No one will ever know the hundreds that were killed under fallen buildings and then buried. Valencia St. has slid 40 feet out of its course and a hotel on that street and Market collapsed, killed 103 out of 106 that were in it. The earth split open there wide enough for a man to fall in and you can hear a running river or creek under it. Another street a little mound raised up and burst open and a little fountain of regular clear mountain spring water is shooting up out of it....." -- Excerpt, ."America 1900-1999, Letters of the Century," ed. Grunwald and Adler (1999)

I was surprised to read the last lines in this letter. My Irish ancestors settled in San Francisco where I was born. For those who may not know, Lone Mountain is one of the old cemeteries in San Francisco. Colleen researching Tierney/Dillon/O'Shea/Greeley Message: 2 Date: Fri, 10 Oct 2008 10:12:19 -0700 From: "Jean R." <jeanrice@cet.com> Subject: [IRISH-AMER] Wm. MURPHY's 1880 "American Letter" to Family in Belfast To: <IRISH-AMERICAN-L@rootsweb.com> Message-ID: <109001c92afb$5a908b70$2b1ecac6@jean> Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed; charset="iso-8859-1"; reply-type=original ....... Their graves are scattered far and wide, By mountain, steam and sea.' James, the latest of our loved and lost, laid him down to rest in the far away California. He like thousands more tried to find a fortune and instead he found a grave. But where could he find a more fitting resting place than in Lone Mountain? The last rays of the setting sun kiss his grave as it sinks behind the waters of the Great Pacific, and his spirit has crossed the Great Divide and joined the others in that better land beyond. Dear sister and brother; may God bless and preserve you is the earnest prayer of your affectionate brother." William -- Excerpt, "Letters of a Nation," ed. A. Carroll

I have Ancestry.com. If you give me the name, I'll try a look-up. Do you know anything about his arrival? Did he land in Canada first? Any info other than name is helpful. Trish --- On Sat, 10/11/08, PatriotGirl777@aol.com <PatriotGirl777@aol.com> wrote: > From: PatriotGirl777@aol.com <PatriotGirl777@aol.com> > Subject: [IRISH-AMER] Brookline, Massachusetts Irish immigrants > To: IRISH-AMERICAN@rootsweb.com > Date: Saturday, October 11, 2008, 9:25 AM > Hello all. I thought I wrote to you all, but I have not > seen my message > yet. > > I'm new to this, and I know my 2x great-grand-father > was born/baptized in > Galway, came to America in mid-late 1800's and wound up > in Brookline, > Massachusetts. > > He was married abt 1869 ish in Brookline, Mass, county of > Norfolk, so he was > here before 1869. > > Would anyone know "how" I can find ship's > manifests from Ireland to Boston > area? > > Thank you for any help. > > D > > > **************New MapQuest Local shows what's happening > at your destination. > Dining, Movies, Events, News & more. Try it out > (http://local.mapquest.com/?ncid=emlcntnew00000002) > > ====Irish American Mailing List===== > Add/check your surname to the Irish-American mailing list > Surname Registry at: > http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrishAmerican/ > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > IRISH-AMERICAN-request@rootsweb.com with the word > 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and > the body of the message

can anyone help me by searching for a seaman Peter Coyle or Kyle alleged to have drowned around 1870's I would be very grateful god bless Liz Hamilton **************

SNIPPET For five years, beginning in 1845, a plant disease ravaged Ireland and destroyed the country's basic food crop, the potato, and there was subsequent widespread disease, malnutrition and starvation. By 1850, over a million Irish men, women and children were dead, and those who could afford to leave headed primarily for America. During and immediately following the famine over one and a half million Irish citizens came to the United States. One of them was a young man named William MURPHY, who immigrated with his younger brother James and searched for work. Even when he found a steady job constructing railroad bridges, he was moved from Virginia to California and many states in between. In December 1880, MURPHY wrote the following letter to his sister and her husband in Belfast to share his thoughts on the American experience: "Dear Sister and Brother, I have to knock around so much at the work I follow that I am hardly ever more than a week or two in one place. And I make up my mind to write home every place I go. But when I get there, I think this way: "Well, I'm not going to be long here; perhaps the next place I go I can wait and get an answer." And so it goes. No doubt you think, why don't I settle down like other people? I have asked myself that question a thousand times. I have gone further - I have tried to do so. But when I try, I soon get tired and the restless spirit gets the best of me all the time. The fact is, traveling is so natural to me that I might as well try to live without eating as without wandering around. But what difference does it make? Life is but a dream, and although I know that my last days will be spent in all probability amongst strangers, I almost wish sometimes the dream was over. Don't think for a moment that I am despondent or downhearted. But just think for a second of the past that has gone, never to be recalled. It seems but yesterday since we were a happy and united family - mother, father, brothers, and sisters. Where are they now? 'They grew together side by side, They filled one hall with glee. Their graves are scattered far and wide, By mountain, steam and sea.' James, the latest of our loved and lost, laid him down to rest in the far away California. He like thousands more tried to find a fortune and instead he found a grave. But where could he find a more fitting resting place than in Lone Mountain? The last rays of the setting sun kiss his grave as it sinks behind the waters of the Great Pacific, and his spirit has crossed the Great Divide and joined the others in that better land beyond. Dear sister and brother; may God bless and preserve you is the earnest prayer of your affectionate brother." William -- Excerpt, "Letters of a Nation," ed. A. Carroll

Several people contacted me off-line, looking for the full transcript of Lord Norbury's Address to the Jury in the Trial of the Rathvilly Gang in 1822. * Carlow Morning Post* * * *Thursday July 25th 1822* Transcribed by Shirley Fleming TEN MEN TO BE HANGED!!! Our Assizes ended yesterday, and contrary to all expectation, there was more business of a real and serious nature, than we recollect for many years. Nor could we have imagined, that where the Calendar, as we said in our last, was so very light as to contain the names of only eighteen prisoners— Ten of the number should have been capitally convicted, and sentenced to an ignominious death! The trials of these unfortunate persons, have been taken down in detail, by our Reporter; we have commenced their publication this day, and shall continue them in our next; for we deem it a duty which we owe our country, to hold out to society, the moral lesson which these trials must afford; and we should hope, that the awful example which the fate of so many of our wretched and guilty countrymen holds forth, may operate as an antidote to thousands, and call them from their evil pursuits, to seek the paths of rectitude and peace. It is, indeed, happy for our country that this knot of robbers has been discovered, and brought to justice; besides the injury which has been done, from time to time, to individuals, the character of the entire neighbourhood has suffered; and many of the crimes committed by such men as these, have been attributed to others, and represented as arising from far different motives. Yet while we rejoice in the detection of the midnight robber, and incendiary, we deplore that necessity which consigns them to an untimely grave; — and if there were any other medium, by which the ends of justice might be attained, we should feel more liberty, at this moment, in commenting upon the turpitude of those crimes which have induced the present observations: but we must, at all events, and however unpleasant to our feelings, continue the melancholy subject, til we bring it to its proper conclusion; and it is our ardent wish, that we may never again, in our native country — nor in any other — have to record such "a tale of woe!" Five of the unfortunate persons, whom we have been writing of, were tried, and found guilty on Monday; the other five on Tuesday; at the conclusion of the second day's trial, the Chief Barron while charging the jury – in which he recapitulated the entire of the evidence — took occasion to pay a high, and well deserved compliment, to the Rev.Mr.Doyle, Parish Priest of Clonegal, for the admirable line of conduct which he had observed, in bringing about the means by which the offenders, through his advice, had been delivered into the hands of justice. Such a character is an honor, and a blessing, to the country in which he holds and exercises his sacred function; and we present him as a pattern, worthy of imitation! — Were the Clergy, of every class and denomination to perform their duty, as this GENTLEMAN does, we should have less occasion to deplore that state of moral and physical degradation, to which this ill fated island is now a prey; and from which it can never be rescued, except through the instrumentality of faithful Pastors, who will feed their flocks, and not make merchandize of men's souls and bodies!— We did not intend to dilate thus; but the state of our unhappy fellow creatures, our brethren and countrymen, has drawn us a little beyond our regular limits: — to return, however: when the jury gave in their dreadful verdict Guilty! The Chief Baron ordered five unhappy beings (from the youth of some of them, we cannot call them men) who were convicted on Monday, viz. — *Andrew* and *Armstrong Anderson, Nicholas* and *Thomas Troy*, and *Christopher Dooley*, to be put to the bar, together with *Michael, Timothy*, and *Hue Finegan, William Nowlan*, and *William Walsh*.— The appearance of such a group, in this hitherto peaceable County, and under such circumstances, made an impression that will not be readily effaced from the recollection of the greatest number of persons we ever saw at any one time in our County Court-House. His Lordship said, when he first entered the peaceable County of Carlow, he did not expect to encounter such an awful scene, as now presented to his view. There were only eighteen prisoners for trial on the calendar — and yet the awful duty devolved upon him of passing the dreadful sentence of death upon *ten! *It was melancholy to reflect, that neither youth nor age could protect them.— Some he thought too old to have been found in so degrading and distressing a situation, while if the parents of the others had done their duty, and paid proper attention to their children, some of them ought now be under chastisement in school, instead of standing forward to await the penalty of the law. Year after year, examples have been made that ought to strike terror to the hearts of such offenders, and prevent the commission of such crimes. It was a mistaken view, if they supposed that the law would not sooner or later catch those offending against it, and bring down upon them its just vengeance. The prisoners, *Nicholas and Thomas Troy, and Christopher Dooley*, were convicted of attacking and firing into a dwelling-house, and for threatening to sacrifice the life of Timothy Byrne, the proprietor, if he did not quit a farm recently taken. This was a dreadful denunciation, to come from three young persons—instigated to the commission of the crime, (his Lordship had no doubt), by other agents. Instead of being violators of the public peace, it should have been their first and paramount duty to protect those laws from which they derived so much benefit, and not pollute them as they have done. *Andrew and Armstrong Anderson,* were convicted of a robbery on the highway. The man whom they robbed was, on his way to market, disarmed, and the means of his existence taken from him. If the honest and industrious were obliged to give up their property to such as were determined not to earn a livelihood for themselves— if such practices, said his Lordship, were allowed to escape with impunity, there would be no security in the County. *Michael Finegan,* continued his Lordship, is, according to his own account, the aged father of nine children — and has led such a life, as to put it out of his power to produce a single man to give him an honest character — he has acknowledged that he has promoted the destruction of his own children — and yet implores mercy for them! — but that mercy, now sought for his son, ought to have come from the father — he ought to have inculcated in him moral truths, and taught him to discharge that duty in society, which would not only insure a respect for the laws — but impress him with a love and fear of his God: — but having neglected his own offspring, he cannot now expect mercy from others. His Lordship earnestly entreated the prisoners to turn to the Almighty God — to attend their Clergyman — to implore God to open their hearts, and to lay their sins before him. It was his duty to instruct them, that they had no hope here — that they should look only to the future — as this world would shortly close upon them for ever! His Lordship then (greatly affected — and with tears in his eyes), pronounced in the most feeling manner, the awful sentence of the law. He told the prisoners, when they severally implored a long day, that sufficient time for preparation would be afforded them, provided they made a good use of it. — Here closed the first scene of this awful tragedy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ SENTENCE. *Michael, Timoth*y, and *Hue Finegan, William Nowlan*, and *William Walsh*, to be hanged on Tuesday, 6th August. *Andrew *and *Armstrong Anderson*, *Nicholas* and *Thomas Troy*, and *Christopher Dooley*, to be hanged on Saturday, the 10th. *Michael Molloy* to be imprisoned six months and publicly whipped at Rathvilly ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ INTERESTING TRIALS. — We shall give a full report of the trial of the Finegans, Nowlan, and Walsh, in our publications of Thursday: and a full report of the very interesting trials — "lessee of Murphy vs Paine," and "lessee of Bernard vs Dillon" — together with Counseller Wallace's admirable speeches, will be published in the two ensuing numbers of The Carlow Morning Post.