A question was raised on a list re education in Ireland and I posted the following to show what the situation was in one area of County Laois at the time. Most people believe that the Irish were uneducated, yet, looking at census figures for the19th century would give the impression that this is not absolutely correct. This was the situation re education in a town in Co. Laois and it's Hinterland in 1835. I am now sending this to other lists as it will give people an idea of what the situation was in one area - and so was probably very similar the country over. My apologies to those who receive multiple postings Jane Rathdowney has a population today of about 2000 people. The article is taken from 'The Rathdowney Review' 1999. I cannot credit the author as none is listed. The article is entitled 'Primary Education in Rathdowney and Skeirke in 1835. In 1831, seven men met in 22 Merrion Street, Dublin, in what was afterwards the office of the Irish Land Commission and more recently the Merrion Hotel. It was an important meeting, as they had come together to provide primary education for people ill-supplied with school buildings, school books and indeed school teachers. There were, it is true, thousands of schools in Ireland at that time, but most of them were mud walled, earthen floored, thatched-roof cabins. Yet despite the poverty of the school buildings and despite the poverty of the people, the Commission of 1835 set out to ascertain the state of each parish with reference to the means of education and could report in the whole of Ireland there were 9,657 "Daily Schools" of which 5,653 were supported wholly by payments from the children and 4,404 supported wholly or in part by endowment or subscription. Most of the schools supported by payment from the children, had their origin in the Hedge Schools of earlier centuries. These schools were the result of a policy of repression by the English Government aimed at denying education to Irish Catholics They were so called because the teacher - who was often treated as an outlaw knew that there was less danger of detection, in conducting classes in the open. The position in Rathdowney as per the Commissioner's report was as follows: 1. School endowed by the London Hibernian Society and conducted by Ina Nolan. On the roll were 36 males and 32 females. Curriculum included Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, Scriptural Instruction, Needlework for the girls. 2. Daily school conducted by Samuel Mason. Payment by scholars from 2 shillings to 3 Shillings a quarter. Subjects taught English Grammar, Geography and Book-keeping. Forty eight males and thirty seven females attended. 3. William White, school grant-aided by the Board of Education. On the roll were forty five males and twenty five females. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were on the curriculum. 4. School conducted by Patrick Bergin. Payments by children of 2 shillings to 4 shillings a quarter. There were fifty males and thirty females on the roll. Reading, writing and Arithmetic were taught to all students, a few learned Book-keeping, Mensuration and English Grammar. 5. School educated by Francis Comerford, closed in Winter. Attendance forty males and twenty females. Curriculum was Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. Payments by children. 6. School conducted by Patrick Phelan, closed in Winter. Forty seven males and thirty three females attended. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were taught. Payment by children. 7. Luke McLean was the teacher. School supported by the London Hibernian Society and payments by children. Forty five males and thirty five females attended. Curriculum was Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. 8. School conducted by Patrick Byrne. Payments by children. Forty males and twenty females. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were taught. 9. School conducted by John Kelly, Twenty nine males and ten females attended, Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were in the curriculum. 10. School conducted by Michael Glen. Forty males and twenty females attended. Subjects taught were Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. 11. School conducted by Michael MeEvry. There were fifty males and twenty females. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were taught. Schools 9, 1 0 & 11 were supported by subscriptions from the pupils. A Sunday School was conducted in conjunction with Ina Nolan's School. Teaching was gratuitous. Attendance thirty males only. Spelling, Reading and Religious Instruction were on the curriculum. In Skeirke there were two schools operating in 1835. One was a "daily school" connected with the London Hibemian Society. Hugh Beale was the master. It received three pound from the Society, five pounds annually from the vicar plus a house and an acre of ground. Books were supplied by the Society. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic were taught. Fifty eight males and twenty five females attended the school. The second day school was kept by Michael Browne. Payment was from one shilling to three shillings per quarter. Thirty six males and twenty four females were on the roll. Reading, Writing, Book-keeping, Arithmetic and Mensuration were taught. The London Hibernian Society, The Baptist Society, The Erasmus Smith Schools and others all had aims as much religious and proselytising, as educational. The Commissioners of Public Instruction in Ireland withdrew grants from the various societies and according to Lord Stanley (the Chief Secretary) were to provide for "combined moral and literary separate religious education" scrupulously avoiding interference "with the peculiar tenets of any description of Christian Pupils". The bitterness of subsequent disputes between Church and State, seems to obscure these facts. Local contributions through Boards of Management, and paid out of Church funds are still in operation; while free second level and almost free third level are in vogue. With falling walls in small schools in rural areas, and increasing numbers of non- compliant and non-paying members in large urban areas, complete financing from central funds cannot be too far away. The present position or primary schools is a far cry from the sod of turf, lack of sanitary facilities, special vacation for potato sowing in spring and general harvesting in Autumn, as well as closure for protracted periods in winter.

From the Epilogue: 'Michael Collins The Lost Leader' by Margery Forester. Published by Gill & McMillan 1989. A number 0 7171 1711 1 may be the ISBN it doesn't say. I am told that the books by Tim Pat Coogan 'The Big Fellow'and the Long Fello' one about Michael Collins and the other about Devalera are the two best concerning the lives of these two men. The circumstances of Michael Collins's death caused a fierce controversy that has never wholly been forgotten. The temper of the time added rumours of treachery to the jealousies and tragic idealism to which his life had been sacrificed. Later years have heightened certain incidents and distorted others in the memories of those who witnessed his death. Time is an unreliable collaborator. There can be no value today in dwelling upon a dispute which has, in its time, aroused a bitterness which the generous soul of Collins himself could only have deplored. Only one fact of any importance emerges when all has been said and done: Michael Collins was dead. Of all the tributes paid him after his death there was none to equal that which, in his lifetime, he had already received, and which he left among his possessions: a hundred door keys; by which he might come and go as he pleased in the houses of his friends in safety and the certainty of welcome. The numbing shock which had struck first his comrades at Beal na mblath and then those in Cork in the early hours of Wednesday morning 23 August, spread quickly to Dublin and the rest of Ireland and so to the world. The Army was the first to hear the news. Keyin O'Higgins took the telephone message with the same inability to believe what he heard as those to whom he passed it. Realizing only the terrible aftermath at must come, Richard Mulcahy went away to write, at 3.15 a.m., his call to the Army which was to have an immensely steadying effect upon it. As the news spread, soldiers whom the chances of the guerilla years had inured to human shocks, gave way to grief. The Government, like the Army, had lost its leader. Its members were awakened by young Army officers, incoherent with shock, despite their efforts to observe discipline. All the available Ministers gathered, a sober and heavy-hearted little group, and appointed W. T. Cosgrave in Collins's place. He issued his own call to the people that day: "Michael Collins's death is a terrible blow to the Irish nation at the time it stood in greatest need of his wise and courageous guidance, but we are confident that the example of his life impressed on the people's mind by this tragedy will raise their spirit to face difficulties in a great crisis as he faced them, and to triumph over them. His death has scaled his work, and before the tragedy of his death the nation is resolved to bring the work to triumph." It was not easy to think of the future's responsibilities without him. To Dublin, as to Ireland generally, Collins's death was a traumatic shock. Men and women who had never met him felt a sense of personal loss. They crowded to Government Buildings, to the newspaper offices, stopping those in the street who might be able to add to the reports in the censored papers. Shopkeepers worked desultorily, or closed their doors completely. Blinds were drawn in many houses as if death had come within. At de Valera's political offices in Suffolk Street the flag hung at half- mast. Not all Ireland mourned. Young Republican soldiers, who saw only a great victory against the Free State, rejoiced. But those soldiers of the Republic who had been his comrades-in-arms did not share their elation. There can have been few times of war in which the death in battle of the opposing Commander-in-Chief has aroused such personal sorrow as Republicans felt at the passing of Michael Collins. Peadar Kearney, then the official censor in Maryborough (Portlaoise) Prison, broke the news to a Republican prisoner. The man, stunned, cried: 'Good God - no!' then added quietly, 'Ireland is lost' Tom Barry had been captured in the Four Courts' fighting and was then imprisoned in Kilmainham Gaol. He writes: "I was talking with some other prisoners on the night of August 22nd 1922 when the news came in that Michael Collins had been shot dead in West Cork. There was a heavy silence throughout the jail, and ten minutes later from the corridor outside the top tier of cells I looked down on the extraordinary spectacle of about a thousand kneeling Republican prisoners spontaneously reciting the Rosary for the repose of the soul of the dead Michael Collins." Frank O'Connor, destined to make his own reparation of love to Collins's memory, was one of the youngsters in arms who rejoiced then to hear of his death. He was with Erskine Childers, and was to recall in later years 'how Childers slunk away to his table silently, lit a cigarette, and wrote a leading article in praise of Collins' It appeared in Poblacht na h.Eireann on 24 August 1922. 'This supremacy of tragedy', Childers termed Collins's death. Three months later he was himself to die, no less bravely, before a firing squad of Collins's men, his alleged crime of a small revolver, given him in earlier days by Collins himself, and prized by him long after each had gone his reluctant, irreconcilable way. Of all the tragedies of the Civil War, that which came upon that strangely consorted friendship is perhaps the most moving, for only Collins of all the Free State leaders really understood Childers's sincere devotion to Ireland, even while he hated its negation of the evolutionary processes he himself believed in. Certainly, had Collins lived, he would have saved Childers to serve his espoused country in more comprehending days, as Childers himself found only cause for mourning in the killing of Collins. The times in which he lived were the turbulent times of a nation's rebirth. They were not to be set apart from those, less chronicled, that followed them, but were the spring from which that future took its life. They should, therefore, be regarded only in the light of its achievements, as President John Kennedy pointed out when, on 28 June 1963, he addressed Dail Eireann: " . . . There are those who regard this history of past strife and exile as better forgotten, but to use the phrase of Yeats: "Let us not casually reduce that great past to a trouble of fools, for we need not feel the bitterness of the past to discover its meaning for the present and the future." ". . . . Great powers have their responsibilities and their burdens, but the smaller nations of the world must fulfil their obligations as well.... My friends, Ireland's hour has come. You have something to give to the world, and that is a future of peace with freedom." The President of the United States, a young man who, like Collins himself, was to crowd the work of a lifetime lived at full stretch into a handful of years, spoke to the assembled representatives of Ireland who had come together, forgetful of political differences, to hear him. His words were surely words of which Michael Collins, a man, not of party or creed, but of all Ireland, whose stride had lengthened to reach to constantly expanding horizons, would have approved.

From the Prologue to 'The Path to Freedom' a book of articles and speeches written by Michael Collins The Prologue was written by Tim Pat Coogan. Published by Mercier Press in Cork. 1996. ISBN: 1 85635 148 3 America's loss was to be Ireland's gain. For if Michael Collins had taken his brother Pat's advice, the Republic of Ireland might not exist today. Watching the storm clouds of World War 1 gather over Europe, Pat had written to Michael from Chicago urging his young brother to leave his job in a London financial institution and come to join him in America. Had they teamed up, one is tempted to speculate that one of the all-time great Pat-and-Mike success stories might have resulted. As it was, Pat became a captain of police in Chicago and Michael went on to destroy the Irish police force, the armed Royal Irish Constabulary (R.I.C.). In doing so he laid the foundations for today's unarmed Irish police, the Garda Síochána or Civic Guard. In the early stages of World War 1, the then twenty-six year-old Collins agonised over Pat's letters inviting him to America. He took long lonely walks through London's dockland, seeing the ships leave for the New World, wondering should he go himself. War meant conscription would come, bringing with it an unthinkable choice: to become a conscientious objector, a course repugnant to his warrior soul, or to don a British uniform and fight for the Crown. Collins solved the problem in his own inimitable way. He put on an Irish uniform and went to fight for Ireland, in the 1916 Easter Rebellion in Dublin. He was captured and sent to Frongoch Internment Camp in Wales, the Republican University as it was known. It was here, in prison, that he began to think out a new philosophy of warfare and to re-organise the Irish Republican Brotherhood, the I.R.B., which later spearheaded the fight for Irish independence and led to the creation of modem Ireland. He was also the founder of modem urban guerilla warfare, the first freedom fighter, or urban terrorist. Mao Tse tsung studied his methods. And Yatzik Shamir, the former Prime Minister of Israel, was so impressed with Collins that not alone did he study him, he took the codename "Micail" for his Irgun unit during the Israel! war of independence against the British. Michael Collins was born, the youngest of eight children, on a ninety-acre farm, a good holding for Catholics of the time, near Clonakilty in West Cork in 1890, to a remarkable set of parents. His father was nearly forty years older than his mother, Marianne, and was in his seventy-sixth year when Michael arrived. Neither parent had much formal education but they both knew French, Latin, Greek, Irish and English. And, apart from being an expert farmer and veterinarian, Michael senior was also noted for his knowledge of astronomy, mathematics and for his skill as a builder.

Dear Listers I have two queries for you: 1. My Great Aunt Christina Brennan was a member of the ATS in Ballimena, Co. Antrim in 1937. 2. She also went to Birmingham during the 2nd World War and worked in a munitions factory there. Can anyone throw any light on these two questions as to where I might find more details of these two activities. Regards Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk I am also researching the following members of my family: All descendants of William BRENNAN, (c1800's) of Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. IRL MORAN & LALOR/LAWLER/LAWLOR, Arless Co. Laois. IRL; KELLY/CARTER, Ardateggle, Co. Laois. IRL BULGER/BOLGER/BRENNAN, Dublin City. IRL; BORAN, WALL & RYAN, Arless, Co. Laois. IRL BRENNAN, James, IRL; BRENNAN, Martin, d1963, Belfast, N.IRL

Dose this ring any bells with anyone out there? The following was taken from a newspaper cutting: " Mark BULGER/BOLGER worked for the Irish Press (DeVeLara Paper). He was a member of the Bohemians FC Dublin. He died in the Palliative Care Unit in Our Lady's Hospice, Harolds Cross, Dublin on Saturday 18th Feb 1995. He was then removed on Monday at 5pm to The Church of Our Mother of Divine Grace, Ballygall Road East, Dublin. Cremated at Glasnevin Crematorium on Tuesday 21st Feb 1995 after 11am mass". His wife's name was Alice His Fathers name was Mark BULGER/BOLGER and he lived at 5 Phibsborough Avenue, Dublin. His mothers name was Christina BRENNAN (my Great Aunt) who was born in Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. I have no other dates for this family or where the rest of the family lived or came from. If there is anyone out there who knows anything about this family I would love to hear from you. Regards and good luck with your research Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk I am also researching the following members of my family: All descendants of William BRENNAN, (c1800's) of Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. IRL MORAN & LALOR/LAWLER/LAWLOR, Arless Co. Laois. IRL; KELLY/CARTER, Ardateggle, Co. Laois. IRL BULGER/BOLGER/BRENNAN, Dublin City. IRL; BORAN, WALL & RYAN, Arless, Co. Laois. IRL BRENNAN, James, IRL; BRENNAN, Martin, d1963, Belfast, N.IRL

Hi Everyone Has anyone got around to putting Gravestone Inscriptions from Co. Carlow, Co. Laois, Co. Dublin and Dublin City on the Web/Internet yet?. If anyone can give me the site names I would be very grateful Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk I am also researching the following members of my family: All descendants of William BRENNAN, (c1800's) of Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. IRL MORAN & LALOR/LAWLER/LAWLOR, Arless Co. Laois. IRL; KELLY/CARTER, Ardateggle, Co. Laois. IRL BULGER/BOLGER/BRENNAN, Dublin City. IRL; BORAN, WALL & RYAN, Arless, Co. Laois. IRL BRENNAN, James, IRL; BRENNAN, Martin, d1963, Belfast, N.IRL

An extract of a story written by John Keegan of Laois, published in Dolman's Magazine September 1846. Source: John Keegan Selected Works, published by Galmoy press: ISBN 0 9531583 0 6 edited by Tony Delaney 1997 The Dihreochs Legacy Scattered over the length and breadth of 'the Green Isle', are numerous, commodious, and many beautiful, Roman Catholic chapels and houses of public worship. The ugly, uncouth thatched sheelings of the last century have nearly all disappeared, and are replaced by substantial edifices of stone and mortar, with slated or tiled roofs, well-glazed windows, and in many instances, with light graceful spires or plain massive steeples and bells. The Catholic priest is no longer hunted as a beast of prey through the bogs and fastnesses of his native land, nor is the faithful, patient Catholic peasant compelled, as in the days of old, to steal to the lonely glen or mountain cavern, to 'bear the word of God', or bend his knee to worship in the manner of his ancestors - those sleeping martyrs who wept and bled, and suffered persecutions for 'the faith that was in them', that one true faith which they kept with undying fidelity, and transmitted to their children of the present and future generations. The Irish Catholic can now breathe as freely as any other of his fellow-subjects, and when he gazes on the grey steeple of the village chapel, and hears through the sacred haze of the Sabbath morning, the deep-pealing bell calling the gay, light-hearted peasantry to early mass, he may well-uphold his brow in triumph and pour forth his thankfulness to that providence which preserved to the old 'Isle of Saints', that saying faith, without which there is no true happiness on earth, and no final blessing from above. Though plain and small, one of the prettiest and most convenient of those rural Catholic chapels is that of Shanaboe, in the Queens County, the beautiful little 'house of God', where the writer of this tale some five-and-twenty years ago, first bent his tiny knees in public worship, and where, ever since, he has appeared each Sabbath, to join in prayer and sacrifice with the friends and playmates of his childhood and youth. This chapel possesses peculiar attractions, and is invested with peculiar interest. Situated in a retired, but beautiful and highly-improved district of country - a district too, eminently rich in antiquarian remains and historic associations; it forms a pleasing and a soothing feature in the scene. At a little distance eastward flows in calm unruffled tranquility, the silver waters of the river Nore, its banks studded, in the vicinity, with monastic and military ruins. In this neighbourhood, too, will be found the cave of the Firbolg, the rath of the Dane, the Norman castle, and Cromwellian bawn; whilst about a mile westwards lies the classic vale of Gurtnaclea - i.e. 'the plain of wattles, or the plain of stakes', where the Mac Giolia Phadruig, dynast of Ossory, treacherously led his warriors to way-lay the Dalcassian heroes on their return from the battle of Clontarf But independent of these considerations, this chapel boasts another matter which must render the place highly interesting to the traveller, the virtuoso, the man of taste, and the lover of the mysterious and the curious. This is a splendid portrait of St. Peter, holding the keys in the usual position, encased in a richly gilt frame. This magnificent picture is attributed to different masters; but at all events, it is of considerable antiquity, and allowed by competent judges to be one of the finest paintings in the British islands, or perhaps in Europe. Besides its inimitable beauty, this picture derives very much interest from the romantic circumstances attending its introduction to the little chapel, of which it now forms such a rare ornament. These incidents I am about to relate: they have never before met the public eye, and I shall offer no introductory remark farther than to say, that how improbable or strange so-ever my story may appear, the truth of the leading features or circumstances of the narrative, cannot, as far as I can learn, be, even for a moment, disputed. About forty years ago, one dreadful day in mid-winter, an old man, feeble and bending, tottered, with the aid of a long iron-shod wattle, which he carried in his withered hand, to the door of a snug-looking public-house, which then stood on the 'cross, or four-roads' of the village of Shanahoe. The stranger's step was slow and painful, for he was faint and way-worn, and the biting west-wind, and the cutting cold sleet-shower, was driving full bang in his pale face, as he struggled to open the door of the 'Fighting Cocks'. "God bless all here", said the old man in Gaelic as he stood on the threshold, and cast a wistful glance on the brilliant turf fire which blazed so red and so tempting on the clean well-swept hearth of the village hostelry. "Amen, - all but the cat and the dog" replied Mrs. Carwell gruffly as she poked her red fat face from the chimney-corner to scrutinize the appearance of the stranger. "Ah then, mistress agrah, for the love of God and His Virgin Mother, would you let me in to-night to your chimney-corner, for in troth I am not able any longer to endure the piercing severity this tremendous blast that's blowing." "Indeed, and I will not," replied the woman, unceremoniously. "A public-house is no place for strollers, and even if it were, I have no accommodation for you at this present." "No way for me, is it," echoed the old man. "I want nothing but the shelter of your roof until morning. I have my own blanket in this little wallet on my back, and I have as many cold potatoes as will for my supper," and he exhibited his miserable stock of provisions a tin can which hung from a horse-hair girdle, beneath the tattery remnants of his old grey frieze bang-up. "Who are you, or what are you, or what keeps you out on Shaugh-rawn this wicked-blowing day?'" asked the landlady. "As to who I am," replied the wanderer, "it matters little. I am a Dihreoch by profession, and did not sleep two nights endwise in the same house these twenty years. I never troubled you before, and probably never will again; so let me in to-night, and may God never shut the gate of paradise before your soul." "Go and try at Denny Bergan's, he has a good warrant to give lodgings to shoolers," said the woman. "Jem Rooney, the tinker, and his whole retinue are there to-night" said Mrs. Carwell's husband, speaking in an under-tone from the fire-place. "Aye, and Mat Carroll's is crammed, from the hearth to the dresser, with boccoughs and beggars, going to the fair of Ballinakill to-morrow," observed a little chubby-face gorsoon, who was, devouring a piece of bread and butter at his father's knee in the warm corner. "The worse luck now, the better to-morrow," said the unfeeling woman, accompanying her observation with a signal to the old man that his presence at her door was no longer desirable. "Must I go?" asked the wretched man, whilst his palsied limbs shook with cold and weariness, and a big tear rolled slowly downhis furrowed cheek. "Aye, while your shoes are good," answered the hardened Mrs. Carwell. "Shoes inagh," said the trembling stranger. "Shoes! I did not know the comfort of shoe or stocking these twenty long years and more and he looked as if mechanically at his thin legs and naked feet, -, blistered with travel, and bloody with that cutting December wind "To make a long story short," resumed the woman with increasing impetuosity: "I want no further conversation with you or any Skibbeeya like you. Be off in a jiffey, or I will set the dog after you,, and she commenced calling the mastiff, which slumbered in the ashes, as if about to put her threat into instant execution. Without a word of reproach or remonstrance, the old man hobbit away from the door. Mrs. Carwell popped her head out in the storm to gaze on his woe-begone figure, and as she viewed him, an unusual. violent gust of wind turned up the tattered skirts of his old coat, an exhibited his naked legs and thighs to observation. "Fair weather after you and snow to your heels," cried the heartless wretch, and as she closed the door her laughter at the supposed smartness of her rude joke, mingled with the melancholy wailing of the storm, which as now momentarily increasing. And the wind whistled and the snow fell bleakly, and the night came down dark and dreary on the lonely plains around. The door and windows of the 'Fighting Cocks' were secured against the hissing storm; the fire burned with a redder and a merrier glow; a good jug of punch smoked on the little table, at either side of which sat Mr Carwell and her 'good man' enjoying the comforts of the scene; but alas! they thought not of the abandoned condition of the poor pilgrim whom they had so rudely turned from their door to face the 'pitiless peltings' of that wild winter's tempest. The night set in quickly, and it was as dark and as dismal a one as ever descended from heaven. Shooler: Strolling beggars, wanderers, pickpockets, persons of suspicious character. Boccoughs are of this class; but that term is usually applied to the blind, crippled and the mutilated. Skibbeya: Jack Ketch the common hangman, but vulgularly used to represent a big, ugly, naked, strolling beggar man.

A song was played at the funerals of two of the greatest Irishmen who ever lived............. they lived in different countries.......... one was born here - one wasn't..............yet, his Irish heritage was very important The words were written by an Irish man. 1. Who were these two men, and who wrote the song? The British saluted the man who was born and bred in Ireland in a way which very few people know about on part of his final journey in a way which everyone should know about........... 2. How was he saluted? Another 'song' was played to honour the man who was not born and bred in Ireland.........and this song/music stood out because it had never been played for a dead man before - only to those who lived. 3. What was this song? Three days after President Eamonn De Valera of Ireland died, the Irish Army marched from Cathal Brugha Barracks (I think it was - I can be brought up on that one) to Glasnevin Cemetery and played a salute to a man who had died a long time before 4. Who was that man? In 1938, when the British Navy were leaving Haulbowline in Cork, they sent a request to President Eamonn Devalera. 5. What was the request and what happened afterwards....... Jane :-)

I have read many times that Priests could be greedy when it came to 'donations' for the various ceremonies in which they participated. It is recorded that many marriages were performed by 'defrocked' priests who would wander the country and who charged less money than their 'frocked' counterparts. These men recorded the marriages which they performed in their notebooks and all of their notebooks were lost in the fire in the Four Courts. There are two sides to every coin and every story and each side should be presented. John Keegan was an author and poet from Co. Laois. His works were published in many of the journals and papers while he lived. John lived in Killeaney, near Shanahoe in Laois and was 33 years of age when he died in 1849. He lived with his parents in the home of Thomas Moloney, his mothers brother who was a hedge school teacher who then taught children out of doors. his mothers name was MAry. This letter from John Keegan appeared in 'Dolman's Magazine in 1845. Letters of John Keegan to Dolman's Magazine 17 September 1845 Sir, It appears that the anti-Catholic press of London is still indefatigable in its slanderous attacks on the venerable and high-minded priesthood of Ireland. A paragraph is now running through the low Irish Orange newspapers, copied from the Times, denouncing the Irish Catholic priests as tyrants and extortioners, and inveighing against the exorbitancy of their 'fees', particularly with regard to marriages, baptisms, 'offerings' at funerals, and 'blessing of cattle'. Base and ignorant calumniators! I know the Irish Catholic clergy as well, perhaps, as any man of my rank and years in this kingdom, and consequently am able to bear testimony to the utter falsehood of those charges. It is alleged that in parts of Ireland the 'fee' for marriages is sometimes as high as £20 (May be 20 guineas: is listed in the book as 20l). True: but why is it not added that those cases are indeed 'few and far between', and never occurring but when the contracting parties are wealthy and respectable, and willing as they are able to make their parish priests 'the better of them', as we say, at their weddings? Not a word is said about the innumerable marriages of persons in the poorer grades of life, for which the officiating priest never claims or receives one farthing. Not a syllable about the many cases in which peasant-marriages, proving unusually unfortunate, the marriage-fee is generously returned to the poor struggling wretches. Oh no; these bright instances of the charity and generosity of the Irish priests are left in the shade, and they are shewn forth as heart-hardened, merciless, and avaricious tyrants. Shame! shame upon such base and villainous conduct; and shame upon the British people, who allow themselves to be duped by the foul misrepresentations of those mercenary and hypocritical slanderers! When an Irish peasant contemplates getting married, he gives notice to the priest of his parish: the 'banns' are duly published from the altar, and on the appointed day the parties attend at the residence of the clergyman, where the ceremony is performed. If the bridegroom can afford it, he pays the priest £1 (seldom more is given, and more is never asked) as his fee; but if he states his disability to pay, or if he appears unusually distressed, the priest officiates cheerfully without the least demand in the shape of remuneration. When a marriage occurs in wealthier classes, the priest, and sometimes his co-adjutors, are invited to the house of the bride's family. They seldom refuse to attend - more with a view to indulge the good-natured pride of their parishioners, and to maintain that feeling of affection and cordiality which ever subsists between the people of Ireland and their clergy, than through any self-interested or pecuniary motive. The ceremony is there performed; the bridegroom pays whatever he chooses, and on the distribution of the 'bride's-cake', the friends of both parties give some trifling silver coin - the whole amounting to a sum averaging from ?£3. to ?£5 (again 3l and 5l in the text) . - in a few cases, when the parties are 'very well off', perhaps to ?£l0. Then there is a group of beggars at every Irish wedding - perhaps there are thirty. To each of them the priest gives a sixpence or a shilling, and to the piper or fiddler, he gives half a crown or five shillings. In the morning, when he gets from bed he finds his door blockaded by all the beggars and 'poor widows' and 'fatherless children' in his parish. They have heard of 'the wedding' they know the priest has had a 'Wind-fall' and the opportunity is too good to he suffered to escape. They come en masse to make their claims; and, before the siege is raised, the pocket of the clergyman is nearly as empty as ever. Here is a faithful statement from one who has no motive which might induce him either to 'extenuate' or 'set down aught in malice'. It is very true that the marriage-fee sometimes does amount to ?£20 (20l) . and even more; but these cases occur only when the marriage takes place in the very highest class of the Irish Catholic gentry, and the proceeds are generally disposed of in the manner I have stated. With respect to that charge which represents the Irish priest as encouraging early and improvident marriages for their own selfish gain, I will merely observe that I have been regularly in attendance at public worship during the last twenty years, and I fearlessly assert, that there is no subject connected with the social condition of the peasantry, to which the attention of their priests is more assiduously directed that to their marriages, and that I never saw an instance of sch unions being introduced, that the priest did not publicly denounce and reprobate that reckless practise, and caution his parishioners against the results invariable arising from improvident and ill-assorted marriages, I had intended to notice the other equally ill-grounded charges against our beloved clergy; but, as this letter has already run to a greater length than I anticipated, I must defer my observations on those matters to the next publication of your invaluable Magazine. I am Sir, Yours respectfully, J.K

Hi Listers everywhere I am currently researching the history of some of the local villages where my ancestors were born in the southern corner of Co. Laois. IRELAND. The areas I am particularly interested in are: BALLICKMOYLER, ARLES, BALLINAGALL, ASHFIELD and COOPER HILL. I would love to hear from anyone who may have information, stories, tales, photos or postcards and names of families who lived or worked in these areas or, anything at all which will help me build up a picture of what life was like in these areas during the 1800's and 1900's. Depending on the response I get I hope to be able to gather enough material which I can then share with others through this medium and help people out there, especially those of you who have never been to this lovely part of our island of Ireland, and more especially, Co.Laois. Correct me if I am wrong but to my knowledge very little has been written about this part of Co.Laois and I have searched second-hand bookshops in both Ireland and England but have not come across anything about this part of Co. Laois. Regards and good luck with your research Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk I am also researching the following members of my family: All descendants of William BRENNAN, (c1800's) of Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. IRL MORAN & LALOR/LAWLER/LAWLOR, Arless Co. Laois. IRL; KELLY/CARTER, Ardateggle, Co. Laois. IRL BULGER/BOLGER/BRENNAN, Dublin City. IRL; BORAN, WALL & RYAN, Arless, Co. Laois. IRL BRENNAN, James, IRL; BRENNAN, Martin, d1963, Belfast, N.IRL

Hi Peter At least you are one of the few people out there who recognise and understand that Ireland is not an island with one parish, one town and one county. To read some of the mails you would think from reading them that that is all Ireland is and people expect you tell them where their ancestors were born when all they know is: 'My mother was born in IRELAND, can any one help me find her???' Any way down to business. BALLINAKILL is located about 4 miles south east of ABBEYLEIX on the main road between Portlaoise and Kilkenny. In the AA Illustrated Road Book of Ireland. (2nd Illustrated Edition 1966) the following information about BALLINAKILL is printed: BALLINAKILL, Laois. Baile na Cille; The Town of the Church. Marks the path of Cromwell's march by the slight remains of a Castle stormed by him in 1641. Heywood House, on the northern outskirts was an 18th century mansion (1773), which was rebuilt in 1950 following a fire, and is now a college. BALLINAKILL is also the name of the parish so when you are searching for your family you need to look at all the DUNPHY's who lived in this parish and then what location (village/town) within that parish. ABBEYLEIX is also a parish so you need to do the same with the MORRISSEY's until you find the right ones Both parish's are next door to each other ABBEYLEIX is about 9 miles south of Portlaoise and again on the main road between Portlaoise and Kilkenny. ABBEYLEIX, Laois. Mainistir Laoise; Monastery of Laois. This town can trace its history back to the 12th century when the Abbey was built in the town. Nothing remains of it to-day. I hope this helps. Once you have the village name if they were not born in either of the above towns let me know and I will try and locate them for you. Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk ----- Original Message ----- From: "Peter Hayse" <marhayse@tpg.com.au> To: <michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk> Sent: Sunday, November 05, 2000 5:31 AM Subject: DUNPHY RESEARCH > I am probably no clearer on where I should be looking though as there seems > to be no end of Parish, or County locations etc and us poor mortals who > don't know one end of Ireland from tuther...it's like where is that?? > Can I bother you for a little guidance on Ballinakill/Abbeyleix please. > Where exactly were Mary and her family located?based on these places. In > relation to major regions is there a precise area worth concentrating on? . > I don't appear to be getting to the right people judging by the general lack > of response/ or is that quite normal? > I know for instance that Mary's parents were married in Ballinakill in 1809, > Simon D. / Margaret Morrissey and that Mary was baptised in 1829 in > Abbeyleix. Whilst the Offaly Historical Society has acknowledged the > Baptism/the Ballinakill Parish Priest has acknowledged the marriage plus 3 > other children's births, it seems as though I just keep going around in > circles.

Hi Kim IN MY OPINION it would seem that the Place of Birth for many of the Emigrants who left Ireland in the 17 & 1800's to travel to other countries was given as IRELAND. Researchers of our time are looking at the Port of Embarkation to try and establish where people came from and because of the lack of accurate information obtained by the authorities at the Port of Disembarkation (Arrival) they had very little to go on and rightly or wrongly assumed that the Port of Embarkation was their Birth Place. We also have to look at the possibility that peoples accents from what ever country they came from caused problems, along with the spelling of Irish Village and Town names. The authorities probably didn't have the time to get the proper spelling of a place name and if the person happened to be illiterate as well the authorities probably went for the easy option which was the word IRELAND. It seems to me and from my own research that people travelled long distance's to get to a port of embarkation which was not necessarily the one nearest to their home. Several members of my family travelled around Ireland during the 1800's and I am having great difficulty tracking them down. So you can imagine what it must be like for other researchers if their ancestors went abroad. To date I have only been able to trace one of my travelling ancestors who left Ireland in this way and that was my Great Aunt Hannah BRENNAN who went to India to become a Nun. I still don't know what ship she sailed on or what port she left from but I have everything else about her including a photo of her Headstone in Lucknow, India. If your James BRENNAN is one and the same person that I am looking for his fathers name was William BRENNAN and he was born in Ballickmoyler, Co. Laois. IRL in the mid 1800's. If anyone has any comments to make on this subject I am sure we would love to hear from you what ever they may be. It must be so frustrating for people who are trying to research their Irish ancestors if all they have to go on is 'They came from IRELAND'? That's like asking someone in America or any other large country the question; 'Can anyone tell me where my Great Grandfather JOHN SMITH was born in ENGLAND?' Sorry I can't be of more help but I will keep looking. Good Luck Also researching the following members of my family: All descendants of William Brennan (c1800's) of Ballickmoyler or Arless, Co. Laois. IRL Moran & Lalor/Lawler/Lawlor; Arless Co. Laois. IRL Kelly/Carter; Ardateggle, Co. Laois. IRL Bulger/Bolger/Brennan; Dublin City. IRL Boran, Wall & Ryan from Arless, Co. Laois. IRL Brennan, James; Co. Meath, Ireland Brennan, Martin; 1963, Belfast, NI Michael Brennan Kent England Home: michael@janbren.freeserve.co.uk ----- Original Message ----- From: <Kimb9758@aol.com> To: <BRENNAN-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, October 28, 2000 8:13 PM Subject: [Brennan] Re: BRENNAN-D Digest V00 #191 > In a message dated 10/25/2000 11:37:18 AM Eastern Daylight Time, > BRENNAN-D-request@rootsweb.com writes: > > Michael Brennan - I am also searching for a James Brennan who immigrated to > Canada with his parents and wife Margaret Anna Ward in about 1844/1847. My > James was born about 1812 and rumor says Cork but have not been able to find > anything. Connections? > > << Brennan, James; Co. Meath, Ireland >> > Kim Brennan > Beautiful Northern Michigan > > > ==== BRENNAN Mailing List ==== > Great Brennan Sites! > Brennans of Idough: http://hometown.aol.com/jmbrennan/brennan/index.htm > Brennans of Connaught: http://www.leitrim-roscommon.com/brennan/ > Brennans of Kilkenny: http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/brennansofkilkenny > > ============================== > Visit Ancestry's Library - The best collection of family history > learning and how-to articles on the Internet. > http://www.ancestry.com/learn/library > >

The following are the transcriptions from the gravestones at Killermoe Protestant graveyard in Co. Laois. Each / in a line of words indicates that this is a new line on the stone itself. These are to date unpublished and I have not finished all corrections. Jane Bailey: In/Loving memory/of/John Bailey/of Grantstown/died April 1876/and 45 years/And his wife Jane/died August 1902/aged 66 ears/Margaret Bailey /wife of Richard Bailey/died March 23rd 1939/aged 63 years/Her husband Richard Bailey/died 27th April 1951 aged 80 years/Their son John Harold Bailey/died 18th Oct 1942 aged 37 years/They rest from their labours/and their work do follow them Bailey/Hilton: In loving memory of/our dear parents/Richard Samuel Bailey/late of Grantstown, Ballacolla/departed this life 8th May 1990 /aged 73 years/and his wife/Jessica Mary (nee Hilton)/departed this life 22nd Dec 1990 /aged 71 years/With Christ which is far better Thompson: Sacred/to/the memory of/Victoria Helena/beloved wife of/John Thompson Esq JP/of Deck.../died April 8th 1806 (1906) Stone made by Coffey Ballyragget. Fitzgerald: In/loving memoryof/ Geraldine Fitzgerald/who fell asleep in Jesus/19th December 1896,/with Christ which is far better./phil.I.23/Succoure of many/Romans XVI.2 Fitzgerald/Seton: Marble monument. In/loving memory of/my beloved husband/John Fitzgerald of Levalley/late Captain 87th Regt./ Royal Irish Fusiliers/son of /Robert Fitzgerald Esq./born 20th June 1821/entered into rest 24th May 1897./Looking for that blessed hope/also of his wife /Henrietta Seton /Fitzgerald/died 17th Jan 1912/For so he giveth his beloved sleep/I know/That they who are not lost but come before/are only waiting till I come for death has only parted us a little while. St. George: In memory of/Capel Lucas St. George/died Dec 6th 1896/aged 77 years. St. George: In memory of/Anna Maria St. George/wife of Arthur St. George/died Dec 15th 1897/aged 74 years/Also of the above/Arthur St. George/who died 29th July 1904/aged 84 years. Neville/St. George: In memory of/Essie Neville/ the adopted child of/Arthur and Anna Maria St. George/she died June 1st 1863/ aged 8 years/Jesus said suffer little children /and forbid them not to come /unto me. For such is the kingdom of heaven made Neville: In memory of/Gareth Tarnell Neville/who died 18th April 1878(5)/aged 22 years/Forever believe that Jesus died/and rose again even so them also/which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him Brownrigg: In loving memory/of/Arthur Henry Brownrigg/Esq. JP/of Durrow in the Queen's County/born September 17th 1865 died Nov 23rd 1904. Dods/Davidson: Family Plot:Can't read top./In /loving memory/of/Sarah Dods/(nee Davidson/dearly beloved wife of/William Dods, Dunmore/ who died 26 Dec 1903/aged 69 years/And the above/William Dods/who died 2 Sep 1920/aged 91 years/Also their son/Thomas/who died 25 April 1931/aged 60/Also their daughter/Margaret/died 17 Jan 1943/Blessed are the dead/which die in the Lord Can't read next one. Table tomb: Can't read Newman: Francis Sylvester/Frankie/Newman/1946-1997 Harvey: In loving memory of/Arthur George Harvey/Bloomville, Cloneygowan/died 17th March 1986 aged 69 years/his brother Robert Sidney/died 14th Feb 1993/aged 74 years/The day thou gavest/Lord is ended Bailey: Robert S. Baliey, Ballylogue/departed this life Sept 6th 1982/aged 54 years/his infant daughter Louise/died June 1967/For now we shall see through a glass darkly/but then face to face/ Erected/by his wife and son/Alexander/ in loving : can't read Roe: To the memory of /Thos. & Eliza Roe/of Coolfin/the former of whom died Aug 1880/in his 89th year/ the latter Oct 1884/in her 85th year/Their children shall rise up/and call them blessed/Proverbs Percy/Smyth: In/loving memory/of/Helena Percy/Castletown, Ballybrophy/died January 16th 1919/aged 82 years/Her daughter Margaret Anne/wife of Albert E. Smyth/born Jan 30th 1873 died Oct 25th 1982/Helen Alberta/born Sept 7th 1901 died Feb 18th 1990/The dead in Christ/shall rise first. Same plot: Smyth: In/loving memory/of/Albert Ernest Smyth/Castletown, Rathdowney/born July 31st 1869(8)/died May 8th 1932/William Percy Smyth/born March 10th 1900/died Feb 3rd 1978/Father in thy gracious keepnig/leave we now thy servants sleeping Next stone can't be read. Harvey: In loving memory of/Joseph Harvey/died 24th Oct 1962 aged 77 years/His wife Charlotte/died 25th Dec 1963 aged 79 years/Abide with me Bailey: In loving memory of/Margaret Louisa (Pearl) Bailey/Ballygogue/who departed this life/ on 19th November 1979/aged 52 years/Safe in the arms of Jesus Bailey: In loving memory of/Samuel Bailey/Ballygogue/died 15th July 1962/his wife Louisa died 21st March 1987/Forever with the Lord Bailey: In loving memory of/My dearly beloved husband/Samuel Bailey/died 15th March 1961/aged 28 years/I am the resurrection and the life sayeth the Lord. Bailey: In loving memory of/Albert Bailey/who departed this life on Good Friday/12th April 1974/aged 75 years/Also his wife Francis/departed this life January 10th 1977/aged 74 years./Forever with the Lord Bailey: In/ever/loving memory of/Maria Bailey/of Shanavaughy House/who departed this life/on October 22nd 1929/aged 63 years/and of her husband/Samuel Hugh Bailey/died Feb 9th 1934/Blessed are the pure in heart/for they shall see God Stone broken: In/ever loving memory of/Harriet Adelaide/ wife of Rev. ?? ?who departed this life interred into rest in ?? Art church on Sunday/can't be read Switzer: In loving memory/of/Thomas Switzer/of Edmundsbury/born 18th May 1851/died 8th March 1913/Also /his beloved wife/Emily/born 20th Oct 1802/died 10th Aug 1924/ Can't be right!!!? Thou wilt keep him/ in perfect peace whose mind/is stayed on thee/because he trusted in thee Clarke/Switzer: In/loving memory of/Elizabeth Clarke/Dairyhill/born April 20 1821, died March 18 1917/Also her grandson John Harrison Clarke/born March 12 1888, died January 17 1913/And her son /George Harrison Clarke/born April 29 1852 died MArch 15 1932/Also his beloved wife/Emma/born October ?? 1882, died November 12 1932/Irene Margarie Clarke (nee Switzer)/died 6 Oct 1972/her husband George Harrison Clarke/died 16 Aug 1975/His aunt Jane Emma Clarke died Sept 193?4/Botom can't be read. McWilliam: Broken stone: In/loving memory/of/William McWilliam/died 7th Dec 1931/aged 66 years Montgomery: In memory/of/The Rev. W. S. Montgomery BD/??four years the beloved Minister of this Parish Can't read rest. Thomson/Stuart: In loving memory of/William Thomson/of Rathdowney/died 3rd February 1943 /aged 74 years/Also his daughter/Margaret Stuart/died 23rd August 1935/aged 33 years/His wife Elizabeth/died 13th January, 1953 aged 90 years/And in Gods house forevermore my: can't read Grant: In /loving memory of/Charlotte Elizabeth/beloved wife of/William Henry Grant, Johnston/tenure: Can't read

The end of the piece on Festivals from : Folk Customs and Belief: Seán Ó'Súilleabháin: Published for the Cultural Relations Commitee, Dublin: 1967 The Feast of St. John (June 24th) seems to have been celebrated by the church in an attempt to Christianise the old festival of midsummer, which occurred about that time. The lighting of bonfires which is still carried out in many areas in Ireland is a very ancient custom and was once found all over the world. Village inhabitants often joined together in the lighting a huge fire; but in scattered farms each owner lit his own bonfire and ended by throwing some of the blazing bushes into his crops for luck. As at May Eve, cattle were driven between two such fires to protect them from harm of various kinds. Diseases were said to grow less as each ceann féile approached; still people also tried to help themselves and improve their health by bathing on midsummer eve and drinking the boiled juice of St. John 's weed. The reaping hook was symbolically placed among the unripe corn on that evening too. As on May Eve, fairies and spirits were active then also. Bonfires again blazed on the Feast of SS. Peter and Paul (June 29th ) and people looked forward to the day being fine as an augury of a good harvest: Lá 'le Póil ma fhónann grian go geal, Beidb grán go leor, 's gach sórt sa bhliain go maitb. (If the sun shines brightly on St. Paul's Day, plenty, of grain and all good things are assured for the year). St. Swithin's Day in July was said to commemorate the day on which the Deluge began, and rain on that day was a bad omen for the ensuing forty days. The Feast of Lughnasa was celebrated either at the end of July or early in August. As Máire Mac Neill has shown in her monumental study of this ancient Celtic festival, it was celebrated to welcome in the first fruits of the harvest. It was popularly known by scores of local names, ranging from Domhnacb Chrom Dubh (Crom Dubh's Sunday), Donagh Sunday, Bilberry Sunday, Fraughan Sunday, Garland (Garlic) Sunday, Mountain (Rock) Sunday, Domhnach ba bhFear (The Mens Sunday) and many others to the Sunday ofthe New Potatoes. The feast was celebrated on the last Sunday in July or the first Sunday in August, whichever fell closest to the first of August. It is now best known as the Sunday on which the annual pilgrimage is made to Croagh Patrick in Co. Mayo, but scores at least of local pilgrimages, of a social rather than a religious character, were made formerly on that day to hills throughout the country where the day was spent in sports, picking whortle-berries, and other amusements. The first fruits of the harvest, in the form of wild berries, were eaten on that day, as later were the first new potatoes of that year's crop. People also assembled at certain lakes and rivers on that festival, and horses and cattle were set to swim in the water. Many wells were also meeting, places for the people on that day, and fairs (such as Puck Fair in Killorglin, in Kerry, and many others) were also associated with the festival of Lughnasa. People tried to have their harvest of grain crops secured by the time the Feast of St. Bartholomew (August 24th ) came around. Flails for threshing were then got ready. High winds were also expected at that time, which were jocosely explained as being caused by the saint wielding his own own flail. . St. Michael (the Archangel) was commemorated by the feast of Michaelmas in September. "Summer is Summer until Michaelmas" was a common saying. Sickness was expected to grow less at the approach of the festival. An animal (sheep) or bird (goose) was ceremonially killed and eaten in the saint's honour; in many districts some of the blood was rubbed to the doors. As well as this kind of sacrificial slaying, this was the period of the year when most farmers killed a beef for winter food, and the slaying also served to lessen the number of livestock they would have to feed during the winter. As on some other festivals, fishermen would not go to sea on the eve of the Feast. Halloween piece posted to Ireland, Clare, Laopis, & Limerick on 30th Nov 2000 As Hallowe'en corresponds with an ancient Feast of the Dead, it was to be expected that much of its lore would be concerned with the dead, the fairies and spirits in general. All " fairy forts " were said to be open on the eve of the festival, and their occupants were believed to change their residence from one centre to another on that night; it was a dangerous night for people to be out of doors, it was said, for fear of "fairy stroke" or abduction. Houses were got ready for any deceased relatives who might visit the old home during the night and food was laid out for them. Candles were lighted in windows too. Colcannon was a popular dish as the evening meal as were nuts, and many games were played and divinatory acts performed afterwards. The food supply for the winter being very important, hunger and famine were symbolically banished by throwing a cake of bread against the door. As the weather was expected to deteriorate from that date on ("when the cold stone was put into the water"), sheep were brought to the lowlands from the higher grazing grounds, and other farm livestock were housed for the winter. This was the time too, for the payment of "gales" or "half-gales" of rent to the landlord, and the servants who had been hired for the summer and harvest were allowed to go. "Naoi n-oíche agus oíche gan áireamh Ó oiche Shamhna go hOíche 'l Mártain" (Nine nights and a night uncounted from Hallow'een to the Eve of the Feast of St. Martin). The Irish commemeration of the saint (who was not an Irishman) was on November 11th, and it seems it was meant to christianise an ancient prechristian festival. As on the feast of saint Brigid, no action should be performed on St. Martin's day which involved twisting or turning: no spinning, no use of wheels, no fishing 9which involved the turning of boats),and, above all, no grinding of corn in mills or quern stones. St. Martin is said to have been ground to death in a mill - hence the prohibition against milling on his feast day. There is no record of any saint named Martin having had this fate and this tradition is believed to come from some earlier pre Christian story. St. Martin replacing some Christian deity. In any case, as in the earlier Feast of Michaelmas, a bird or animal was sacrificed on the eve of the feast of St. Martin with much traditional ritual, and some of the blood was placed on the foreheads of members of the family and on the doors 9possibly as in the case of the Holy Innocents, to signify that the sacrifice had been carried out). The flesh was eaten at a ceremonial feast the next day. Like some of the other chief festivals, the customs and beliefs in this case have roots which go down inot prehistory and the early beliefs of our ancestors. In Ireland, this sacrificial shedding of blood was practically unknown in the south-west and north-east. Christmas like Hallow'een, was also an ancient time for commemorating the dead and approximated to the winter solstice. The Christmas tree came from Europe. One of the most beautiful of our old Irish customs is that of lighting one large candle in the kitchen window on Christmas Eve, as well as a smaller one in each of the other windows of the house This was said to be in honour of the Holy Family who sought shelter on that night long ago, and the lights also served as a beacon for lonely and homeless wayfarers. The placing of a large log (bloc na Nollag) at the side of the open hearth in Irish homes for the Tweleve Days of Christmas had a possible counterpart in the tinte éigin ("need fires") custom in Gealic Scotland. There is no tradition in relation to St. Stephen being the patron of horses in Ireland. Instead, St. Stephen's day was popularly observed by "wren-boys", a group of boys or young men who went from door to door carrying a holly bush, on which was either a dead wren or something to represent the bird. The sang a song which began "The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, St. Stephen's Day was caught on the furze; Although he is little, his family is great, So rise up, landlady, and give us a treat; Bottles of whiskey and bottles of beer, And I wish you all a happy New Year." When the song had ended (often in the grey dawn, as rival groups tried to be the first to visit each house), thehy would be given some money. All wore masks or some other facial and bodily disguise, in the traditional manner of carnival singing the world over. This custom still exists in some areas but has died out in mosr. People used to abstain from meat on St. Stephen's Day; the reason popularly given for this was that when plague threatened a parish in olden times the people prayed to St. Stephen to save them - which he did - and ever since they have thanked him in this way. Lá na Leanbh (Children's Day: Feast of the Holy Innocents) fell on December 28th and for some unknown reason was also known as Lá Crosta Bliana ("The Cross Day of the Year"). The word "cross" (crosadh) here signifies prohibition: people would not begin any kind of work on that day, or dig a grave or get married. New Year's Eve, the last night of the Old year, was known as Oíche Chinn bhliana (Year's End night) and Oíche na Coda Móire (The Night of the Great Feast). Candles were again lighted in the windows and special food was eaten. It was a night which was associated with the dead too and both they and absent members of families were remembered in the family rosary. As the New Year, with its many uncertainties, was near at hand, a cake of bread was again dashed at the door to banish the danger of hunger, and the rise or fall of rivers was observed to foretell whether prices would correspond during the ensuing year. There was no general custom of bidding goodbye to the old year and welcoming in the new one.

No there isn't. Once upon a time, it was considered ok............then the powers that be began to think about privacy..... and laws.......... and being sued........... and so whatever was there stopped. you can always give a guess though....... look at me - jlyons1@iol.ie how many guesses do you have to give to maybe come up with something like that............ the initial& surname and the server........ we don't have that many servers iol.ie eircom.ie oceanfree.ie maybe there's an esat........... stick in a name - or aguess at it......... and who knows!! :-) Jane ----- Original Message ----- From: "Joyce and/or Thomas Urban" <tlurban-chgo@worldnet.att.net> To: <IRL-LAOIS-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Wednesday, November 01, 2000 8:39 PM Subject: email addresses Ireland > Is there a search engine for finding email addresses for private > citizens in Ireland? I think there was one once, but I do not have the > address. > > Thank you for any response you might give. > > Joyce > > > ==== IRL-LAOIS Mailing List ==== > > >

This address was sent to me for email searches for Ireland. I understand the telephone directory is no longer online, but email is because joining the address list is voluntary. http://www.esearch.ie/e-search/Email/Default.asp Joyce

Is there a search engine for finding email addresses for private citizens in Ireland? I think there was one once, but I do not have the address. Thank you for any response you might give. Joyce

More from Irish Folk Customs and Belief: Seán Ó'Súilleabháin: Published for the Cultural Relations Commitee, Dublin: 1967 The festivals of the Virgin Mary in Spring (March 25th ) and in Autumn (August 15th ) were not important, so far as the popular lore attached to them is concetned. Fishermen did not put to sea on the eve f the first-names feast. It was considered a bad omen if it coincided with Eastr Sunday (díol do bhó agus ceannaigh lón: if it happens, sell your cow and buy food). People tried, if possible to start the reaping of their grain crops around the August festival. Many patterns (local festivals) took place on both feasts, and rounds were made at Holy Wells popularly dedicated to Our Lady. Shrovetide was a popular time for weddings, and the last night of it was an occasion for feasting. Meat, if available, was eaten that night, and a boiled piece of it known as Tadgh an Gheimhridh (Tim the Winter) was hung on a spike in the kitchen for the duration of Lent, which began the next day. Pancakes, baked in some areas over the blazing Christmas Holly, were a popular food on Shrove Tuesday night. Lent was a much more strict period of fast and abstinednce in olden times (the flesh of barnacle geese, said to have the nature of fish, was eaten in some areas, however.) "Bia bocht" (poor fare) was the general diet. On Ash Wednesday people were wont to take some turf ashes to the church to be blessed and some of it was sprinkled over the house and land. Palm Sunday was known as Domhnach na Slat from the sprigs of yew worn as palm, and on that day children started to collect eggs from the neighbours for the Easter Sunday feast. Many customs and taboos centred around Good Friday: no meat should be hung on a nail that day, nor should any nail be driven, or wood burned; no blood should be shed on that day, when the sun was said to grow darker after noon; no milk was drunk; cakes baked on that day had the Sign of the Cross marked on them; women and girls allowed their hair to hang loose. It was supposed to be lucky to plant some seed potatoes that day, and anybody who had his hair cut would be free from headaches for a year. Eggs were the most popular food on Easter Sunday - meat was also eaten. Blessed Easter water was drunk, and some of it was sprinkled on the fields. The shells of used eggs were used to decorate the May bush in those areas of Ireland where such bushes were erected - it does not seem to have been a native Irish custom at all. Whitsuntide wasa dangerous time for bathing:"Tá stiúradh ag an gCincís ar an bfaraige" (Whitsuntide has control of the sea) To judge by the hundreds of customs and beliefs which were associated with May Day, it must have been the most important annual festival in ancient Ireland. Both the eve of May Day and the day itself were important as signifying the start of Summer and the coming in of the milk and butter produce which were staple foods of our forefathers. Almost every custom and belief associated with them seems to have sprung from the need the people felt to protect their livestock ad preserve their luck at this crucial time. Summer was welcomed in by the carrying of green branches and flowers into the house or strewing them around the doors and windows. "Thugamar féin an Samhradh linn" (We have brought the Sdummer with us) s the name of an Irish song which was associated with this custom, which is still popular in many rural districts. A description of the precautions taken to protect the live, stock at that time of year would fill a large volume. Holy water was, of course, sprinkled on the byre and cows in later times, but older precautions involved the recitation of charms, driving the cattle between blazing bonfires, and the tying of rings of rowan on the animals' tails (red ribbons were attached to the manes and harness of horses, too). Reference has already been made to the means traditionally adopted to protect the cows, the milk, and the churn, and all of these were more important than ever at Maytime, when evilly disposed persons would try to steal a whole year's "profit" by magic. So people guarded their wells on May Eve and May Morn, as it was believed that they were intimately connected with the family's prosperity. By hailing a neighbour's well water in the direction of her own home or by drawing a rope or cloth over the dew on a neighbour's grass on May Morn, while chanting "Come all to me!" a hag was supposed to be able to steal the potential produce of milk and butter for herself As a counter to this, salt and holy water were put into the well. I have already described how no coal of fire would he allowed out of a house while churning was in progress. Similarly, people did not light their fires early on May Day as a further precaution. In olden times, and still in some districts, people did not work at all on May Day. Being associated with a ceann féile (chief festival), May Eve and May Day were supposed to be times of greater than usual activity among supernatural beings. Every lios ( "fairy fort") in Ireland was said to be open that night, and their inhabitants moved abroad in great numbers, often changing their residence at that time. Thus, people were loth to be out late on May Eve, and many stories were told of the strange experiences of those who took the risk. Other strange things were said to happen too : enchanted riders like Donal O'Donoghue rode on a white horse,, with silver shoes, over the lakes of Killarney; bewitched rocks moved from place to place; and mermaids were often seen. Like all chief festivals, May Eve was a great tmie for attempts at divining the future, but these cannot be listed here.

What is a Fairy? 'Fairy' is the generic term for all creatures, mistakenly called 'supernatural', who are neither in God's nor the devil's service. Fairies inhabit most countries in the world, but each nation has it's particular cultural group. Irish leprechauns, Scottish brownies and German Kobolds are all fairies, all independent of religion and quite natural in movement, taste and manners. In Ireland two distinct fairy types exist - the trooping fairies and the solitary fairies. The trooping fairies are to be found in merry bands about the hawthorn tree or at feasts in gilded fairy palaces. They delight in company, while the solitary fairies avoid large gatherings preferring to be left by themselves and separate from one another. The trooping fairies are the major and presiding residents of fairyland, but the solitary ones have greater interest in mortal affairs and hence are generally more familiar to us. Irish fairyland exists now. It has always existed alongside mortal l borders and there has always been considerable intercourse between the two realms, although the traffic has slowed down a bit in modern times. But, although few mortals have the ability any more to see those of fairyland, fairies still live in immortal and good health and will yet manifest themselves to those sincere of belief and simple and passionate in nature. Fairies and the Devil The story goes that when fairies were cast from Heaven some were cast into Hell and became the Devils servants engaged in tempting mortal souls from their heavenly purpose. The proof for this some claim is that fairies have cloven feet; and since the devil and farieis conduct most heir business at nitght they must be in league. But, in truth, the fairies are most indifferent to the devil, except for maybe the Pooka. Besides, the continual torments of hell allow Devils little opportunity to disport about the Irish countryside; and the fairies are nothing if not ladies and gentlemen of leisure. In the ancient days witches, devils and evil spirits as well as fairies molested the mortal lands; and humans were not always able to discriminate between mailicious and mischievous deeds. All spirits were conveniently lumped together. But since the fairies act from desire and not morality, the principles of evil are as incomprehensible as the principles of good. The sidhe, like their familiar friend Death, stand outside of all human moral categories Pooka At night the Pooka goes abroad, sometimes as an eagle flinging a man on his back and flying to the moon, sometimes as a black goat with wide wicked horns leaping on a mortals shoulders and clinging with its claws until the man drops dead or blesses himself thrice. It is a bird, a bat, an ass, a solitary nightmare shape. Although it is an indistinct creature, like a dream dimly remembered yet arousing great fears, its flesh is warm, solid and palpable to the touch. Most often it appears as a terrible black horse, huge and sleek, breathing blue flames, with eyes of yellow fire, a snort like thunder, a smell like sulphur, a stride that clears mountains and a human voice deep as a cave. With a sound sometimes like the head on crashing of trains, sometimes like the wind ripping of trees from the earth, it haunts rivers and frightens fishermen and sailors, shivering in their boats, fearful of approaching land. Sometimes it follows ships to sea. Often at night the pooka lays pitfalls before horses' feet, taking a man up and riding him clear round the country at breakneck speed until he loses his grip and flies headlong into a bog or ditch. Yet, for all its black deeds, the pooka now is a tame creature compared to what it was before Brian Boru curbed it. In ancient days the pooka was Lord over all that went forth after dark, save on those errands of mercy. All roads belonged to it; and few who travelled them lived to tell. For the pooka kicked hard enough to pulverise human bones and could lift a man like an empty sack onto its back and jump with him into the sea, so deep that he drowned. Sometimes it sprang over a cliff and let the man, a bloody corpse tumble to the bottom. Satan's minister it was then and God save the poor sinner caught by the pooka on Halloween Eve, for he would find himself in the midst of a witches ring, with his limbs torn from their sockets, and the fiends toasting his health with huge noggins of his blood! But, Brian Boru tamed it with a charm made from three hairs from the pookas tail and thrown around its neck like a bridle. At the first pull, the hairs were transformed into threads of steel. Crossing himself and mounting, Brian Boru fiercely reined the beast and rode it until it heaved with exhaustion and promised never to kill another man save un-Irish blackguards. Since then it takes only drunkards on its madcap ridings and always returns them to the ditch where it found them, no worse for some bruises and a drunken tale. Now, it avoids the highways, sticking to the footpaths, where a man with too many pints might stumble, but, heroes such as Brian Boru hardly travel. Many precipices and caverns, places where a mortal might go astray in the night are named after it. But now as always, those who walk on God's path suffer no harm.

What is a Fairy? 'Fairy' is the generic term for all creatures, mistakenly called 'supernatural', who are neither in God's nor the devil's service. Fairies inhabit most countries in the world, but each nation has it's particular cultural group. Irish leprechauns, Scottish brownies and German Kobolds are all fairies, all independent of religion and quite natural in movement, taste and manners. In Ireland two distinct fairy types exist - the trooping fairies and the solitary fairies. The trooping fairies are to be found in merry bands about the hawthorn tree or at feasts in gilded fairy palaces. They delight in company, while the solitary fairies avoid large gatherings preferring to be left by themselves and separate from one another. The trooping fairies are the major and presiding residents of fairyland, but the solitary ones have greater interest in mortal affairs and hence are generally more familiar to us. Irish fairyland exists now. It has always existed alongside mortal l borders and there has always been considerable intercourse between the two realms, although the traffic has slowed down a bit in modern times. But, although few mortals have the ability any more to see those of fairyland, fairies still live in immortal and good health and will yet manifest themselves to those sincere of belief and simple and passionate in nature. Fairies and the Devil The story goes that when fairies were cast from Heaven some were cast into Hell and became the Devils servants engaged in tempting mortal souls from their heavenly purpose. The proof for this some claim is that fairies have cloven feet; and since the devil and farieis conduct most heir business at nitght they must be in league. But, in truth, the fairies are most indifferent to the devil, except for maybe the Pooka. Besides, the continual torments of hell allow Devils little opportunity to disport about the Irish countryside; and the fairies are nothing if not ladies and gentlemen of leisure. In the ancient days witches, devils and evil spirits as well as fairies molested the mortal lands; and humans were not always able to discriminate between mailicious and mischievous deeds. All spirits were conveniently lumped together. But since the fairies act from desire and not morality, the principles of evil are as incomprehensible as the principles of good. The sidhe, like their familiar friend Death, stand outside of all human moral categories Pooka At night the Pooka goes abroad, sometimes as an eagle flinging a man on his back and flying to the moon, sometimes as a black goat with wide wicked horns leaping on a mortals shoulders and clinging with its claws until the man drops dead or blesses himself thrice. It is a bird, a bat, an ass, a solitary nightmare shape. Although it is an indistinct creature, like a dream dimly remembered yet arousing great fears, its flesh is warm, solid and palpable to the touch. Most often it appears as a terrible black horse, huge and sleek, breathing blue flames, with eyes of yellow fire, a snort like thunder, a smell like sulphur, a stride that clears mountains and a human voice deep as a cave. With a sound sometimes like the head on crashing of trains, sometimes like the wind ripping of trees from the earth, it haunts rivers and frightens fishermen and sailors, shivering in their boats, fearful of approaching land. Sometimes it follows ships to sea. Often at night the pooka lays pitfalls before horses' feet, taking a man up and riding him clear round the country at breakneck speed until he loses his grip and flies headlong into a bog or ditch. Yet, for all its black deeds, the pooka now is a tame creature compared to what it was before Brian Boru curbed it. In ancient days the pooka was Lord over all that went forth after dark, save on those errands of mercy. All roads belonged to it; and few who travelled them lived to tell. For the pooka kicked hard enough to pulverise human bones and could lift a man like an empty sack onto its back and jump with him into the sea, so deep that he drowned. Sometimes it sprang over a cliff and let the man, a bloody corpse tumble to the bottom. Satan's minister it was then and God save the poor sinner caught by the pooka on Halloween Eve, for he would find himself in the midst of a witches ring, with his limbs torn from their sockets, and the fiends toasting his health with huge noggins of his blood! But, Brian Boru tamed it with a charm made from three hairs from the pookas tail and thrown around its neck like a bridle. At the first pull, the hairs were transformed into threads of steel. Crossing himself and mounting, Brian Boru fiercely reined the beast and rode it until it heaved with exhaustion and promised never to kill another man save un-Irish blackguards. Since then it takes only drunkards on its madcap ridings and always returns them to the ditch where it found them, no worse for some bruises and a drunken tale. Now, it avoids the highways, sticking to the footpaths, where a man with too many pints might stumble, but, heroes such as Brian Boru hardly travel. Many precipices and caverns, places where a mortal might go astray in the night are named after it. But now as always, those who walk on God's path suffer no harm.