SNIPPET: Molly Dolls, fascinating reminders of Ireland in the 19th century, have been made with a great deal of care and research in Ireland, per Sheila WALSH, former Women's Editor of the "Irish Press, " in the Mar-April 1988 issue of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine. At that time they were a small but successful cottage industry in Omagh, Co. Tyrone. (Perhaps they are still being made?) These exquisitr hand-made costumed porcelain dolls, four inches in height, wear authentic traditional costumes in carefuly chosen fabric, hand-sewn with the utmost attention to detail. In 1988 they sold for about 45 pounds in Ireland and fetched about 100 dollars in the USA. The biggest seller at that time was likely Molly Malone, the Dublin fishmonger, immortalised in a ballad by the same name. Ms. WALSH said that the Granny doll was one of her favourites, dressed in a black hand-crotched shawl, blouse adorned with a cameo brooch, long cotton print dress over lace-trimmed petticoat and pantaloons. Seated on her sugan chair, black cat at her feet, while she knits the traditional Aran jumper, the wool emerging from a tiny basket. The Emigrant doll, attired in a hand-woven cape of Magee tweed, trimmed with brown velvet, matching hat over her Sunday best clothes, she carries a velvet purse and a wicker trunk in which a tiny crochet shawl and a minute photograph of her parents she is leaving behind. Owen SMITH, creator of the dolls, explained the personal story connected to the Emigrant doll from his small workshop in Omagh -- "My inspiration for this particular doll came from my memory of Aunt Eileen PHELAN, who now lives in Long Island. She was a terrible good-lookin' girl, they say, and Maureen O'Hara couldn't hold a candle to her in looks. At 19, the poor wee girl set off down the glen road, never she believed, to return, for in those days there was no Aer Lingus! She took the train for Derry, where she boarded the tender for the big ship, and ended up in Manhattan ...": Owen's own mother was a teacher and he said that since he was knee-hgh horses had been the passion in his life, and he constantly mitched from school, to spend the day in someone's stable, working with ponies and horses, or sketching them. To his mother's despair, he left school at 14, went to work on the farm of the late Molly HUGHES, a much-loved woman in Omagh - hence, his name for his dolls. 'For it was she,' he says, 'who set me on my career, and I will never forget her generosity and kindness. She rented me a tiny cottage, and while I helped to look after Molly's cattle and horses, I started to make artifacts from pressed turf which came from the Black Bog near Omagh. My breakthrough came when Shannon Airport bought 18 of my Owencraft turf crucifixes ..." Later on, SMITH asked his daughter and her friend to help him design a range of dolls from photos in the Lawrence collection of photographs in the National Library. This Omagh cottage industry was led in 1988 by a "fantastic seamstress," Dymphna GORMLEY. (SMITH and GORMLEY are pictured in the article with Dympha's sewing machine and several charming dolls, including one playing the harp and another churning butter). Per Ms. GORMLEY, "God has given everyone a gift, even if it is to sweep the streets properly ... my gift was in my hands... " SMITH said he had no plans to ever leave Ireland - "The fields around here are sacrosanct, and I love every blade of grass." As for Ms. WALSH - the Emigrant doll recalled the poignant true story of the Abbey Theatre's first visit to America many years ago. The Hall was crowded with Irish emigrants, most of whom had never a hope of ever seeing the old country again. There was a genuine turf fire on the stage, and when the turf smoke suddenly started to waft down into the auditorium, bringing powerful memories of home, the whole audience was reduced to tears. --- Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free. Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com). Version: 6.0.716 / Virus Database: 472 - Release Date: 7/13/2004