My Home Beyond the Sea

Beyond the dark and rolling tide,
     Beyond the deep blue sea,
There is a lowly mountain cot,
     Earth’s dearest place to me.

My youthful vision first beheld
     In it the light of day.
And, Oh, it is the loveliest spot
     To me on life’s rough way.

In dreams I see its snow-white walls,
     Bedecked with roses rare;
The honeysuckle and the vine
     Entwine their branches there.

The earliest beams, of God’s great sun
     Light up each nook and dell;
And chase the dewdrops from each flower
     And path I love so well.

The sparrow and the swallow flit
     Around those whitewashed walls;
But dearer is that spot to me
     Than all earth’s lordly halls.

I love to think when sets the sun,
     Of that dear home afar;
Upon whose roof at close of day
     Beams down my polar star.

And though my eyes may never see
     That humble cot again.
The vision of its loveliness
     With me will still remain.

C. I. HOBSON.

New York City.

Poem from The Witness, 1st March 1918.
Image: Granny's Irish Cottage, an oil painting by Norma Wilson.

Notes on the Rock of Cashel

In O'Hanlon's "Life of St. Mochoemoc of Liath Mor," in the Diocese of Cashel, some curious particulars, from which the following is selected, are given concerning the Rock of Cashel:–

"Again was the same king (Failbhe) visited by St. Mochoemoc and by St. Colman, son of Dare. Failbhe spoke haughtily to both, but he was reproved by our saint, who declared that the bishop, his companion, on account of his nobility, relationship, and virtues, at least ought to receive some courtesy from the monarch, while Mochoemoc also announced that the Demon of Pride and the Demon of Lust held sway over him. Sensible of his crimes, the king felt sorrowful, and Mochoemoc then cried out to the Demon of Pride, 'Thou seed-sower of vices, take flight, and sit on yonder stone until joined by your companion, when I shall speak to you.' Next was the Demon of Lust banished from the king, and he went to keep company with the other wicked spirit. Then said the saint to both, 'Depart you two seducers to the north side of Cashel Tor, where we have not to travel, and may you do little mischief until the Day of Judgment.' The mediaeval legend pointed out the place of their captivity, where their moans and wailings were frequently heard." I think that the place of the captivity has been quarried away, so that the Demons of Lust and Pride are no longer imprisoned in the Rock.

Dante ("The Vision of Hell," Canto i.) has represented Lust, Pride, and Avarice by the leopard, lion, and she-wolf, and in Canto xxxiv. the three winds produced by the wings of Lucifer are lust, pride, and avarice. It was a commonplace of mediaeval ethics that lust, pride, and avarice were the roots of all the sins of the world.

According to the "Chronicum Scotorum," Failbhe died A.D. 636, and Mochoemoc A.D. 646. But according to the Irish hagiologists, Colman of Derrymore, a few miles east of Liath Mor, was son of Aengus, King of Cashel, who, according to the "Chronicum Scotorum," was slain A.D. 487. Dare, mother of Colman, is stated to be sister of St. Enda of Arranmore, and daughter of Conall derg, son of Daimen, King of Oriel, whose chief fort, Raith mor, was near the Cathedral of Clogher, in the demesne of the old bishops of Clogher. Adamnan in his "Life of St. Columba " makes mention of "Clocherum filiorum Daimeni," or "Clogher of the sons of Daimen," who was father of Conall derg, who endeavoured to prevent St. Molasius from taking possession of Devenish, in Lough Erne, which belonged to the kings of Oriel. Conall derg launched his boat on Linn an tairb ("the pool of the bull"), beside Portora (corrupted from the Irish, Port an tairbh), and set sail for Devenish, but the saint proved too many for the king of Oriel. It appears to me that Colman of Derrymore could not possibly be son of Aengus and Dare, but it is not easy to discover his real parentage owing to lack of particulars, but he may be identical with Colman of Bruis (Cluain Bruices) and Doon (Dun Blesce), in the Diocese of Emly.

O'Clery, in the "Donegal Martyrology," has made Colman of Cluain Bruices, son of Nathfraoch, and brother of Aengus, king of Cashel. No light is cast on this Colman of Cluain Bruices by the editors of Donegal Martyrology, Drs. Todd and Reeves, who do not even identify Cluain Bruices, but this I was enabled to do some years ago by means of the entry in the "Calendar of Aengus," p.167, concerning Colman, who therein is stated to have been the founder of the monasteries of Dun Blesce and Cluain Bruices, and I published this discovery, which after all was not very much in itself, being so easily attained, in one of our archaeological journals. There the matter for some time rested, but afterwards I was enabled to carry it further, when I found that Colman, or Columb, the founder of these old monasteries at Doon and Bruis, was the Colman or Columb, son of Eochaid and Aiglenn, who founded the monastery of Snamh Luthir, and this item is now for the first time published. Adamnan ("Life of St. Columba," ii., 43) refers to "Columbanus, son of Eochaid, a holy man, founder of that monastery which in the Irish tongue is called Snamluthir, who acted as guide in the same ear with St. Columba." Bishop Reeves identified Snamluthir as Slanore, in the County Cavan.

Years ago an old man told me that the Rock of Linfield, near Pallas Grean, was, in Irish, named Carraig Coluim Chille, or the "Rock of St. Columb Cille," and that the well and the old church on this rock were named Tobar Coluim Chille and Cill Coluim Chille. These particulars were also published, but at the same time I thought that the name Columb Cille had in the local tradition superseded the less well known Columb or Colman of Doon and Bruis, and, moreover, Lewis in his article on Grean Parish names this old church on Linfield Rock, Kilcolman, and states that it was founded in the seventh century. Thus it is likely that the monastery on Linfield Rock, like those at Doon and Bruis, was founded by Columbanus, the friend of Columb Cille, and hence we have opened a new chapter in the early ecclesiastical history of the Diocese of Emly, and probably also of Cashel, if Columb, son of Eochaid and Aiglenn, be identical with the Columb, who, according to the legend, accompanied Mochoemoc to the Rock of Cashel.

J. F. Lynch

This article, written by J. F. Lynch, appeared in the Church of Ireland Gazette, 6th March 1914.
Image: Rock of Cashel, Co. Tipperary by Elizabeth O'Kane.

My Tour in the West - Ireland 1915 (pt 3)

If in my previous paper I have dwelt much on hotels and comforts it was for the purpose of showing intending tourists that in these matters at least man has done much for Connemara and the South-West. I had frequently heard complaints made or doubts expressed into the character of the accommodation to be found in the West, but our experience proved that in all respects the accommodation was most satisfactory. Of course, I would not advise intending tourists to follow us in our lightning speed. The ground that we covered in a day would serve for three or four days, or even a week. There was scarcely a spot we visited that we did not wish to remain longer, both for the charm of the scenery and the various excuses offered. For lovers of the picturesque or for lovers of the rod, for those who want to enjoy scenery or to enjoy the milder form of sport, such as angling, there are opportunities and facilities in abundance. There are touring routes planned out of endless variety. We only enjoyed a selection. In looking over the guide-books on my return I was as much surprised by what I had not seen as by what I had. With regard to what I had seen, the writer of the guide bock had not exaggerated. So, assuming them to be as truthful in regard to the others, I can only say that in the resources of Connemara and the West and South-West, so far as touring is concerned, must be inexhaustible.

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Though I cannot say that man, meaning thereby the local man outside hotel proprietors, has done much for the West, Mr. Balfour did much by his light railway and the road scheme, and prepared the way for more. The Midland Great Western, in developing the railway system, have really opened the gate of the West, and allowed easy, I dare not say, free access, but by these railways, motors, and hotels they have done all that could be expected, and I am sure at as reasonable rates as the circumstances would warrant, and what the Midland has done for the West the Great Southern has done for the South and South West, and as a result we find excursions to Killarney from Belfast at wonderfully cheap rates. Of course, our own Great Northern has its part in that. And I should mention specially Messrs. Thomas Cook & Co., who by their enterprise and their arrangements in the matter of touring in Ireland have conferred a great boon not only on tourists, but on the inhabitants of all touring centres. They seem to have planned tours for all tastes and all pockets.

College Street, Killarney c1900. National Library of Ireland L_CAB_03397

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But I must pay that while I met with no disappointment in the scenery I met with disappointment in other respects. I wished I had been able to see the West as Thackeray, Barrow, Johnson, and others did in the first half of the last century. They had no railways and motors to rush them through. A Bianconi's car or a modest side-car was all they had to depend on. It afforded them time to go when they, pleased and as they pleased and to talk to men, women, and children as they passed along. Most of these writers, Thackeray specially, seem to have been more impressed by and interested in the people and the pigs than in anything else. In fact, pigs, potatoes, poteen, and petticoats seem to have made the strongest impression of them. Thackeray, we know, was particularly impressed by the neat handed Phyllis's, who ministered to his wants in the various hotels he stopped at, of which we have lasting evidence in "Peg of Limavady" and "Kitty of Coleraine." He was, if possible, more charmed by those he met in the South and West, over whom he seems to have gone into ecstasies. I must say, however, that none of us had any time to study these houris of the West as Thackeray had, but I am afraid the race must be extinct or that all are so good that it is difficult to pick out the best. But I do not think any of us lost our hearts or our heads as Thackeray seems to have dome. But then, perhaps, we had not such artistic eyes as he had or such an appreciation of a good dinner and graceful service.

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By my recollections of those old tourists and chroniclers I was prepared to meet pigs and red petticoats at every step, but it was the third or fourth day before I saw a single pig, and as to red petticoats, I only found them in graceful abundance in Achill. Indeed, I think it was only here we saw the life of the West in all its ancient characteristics unmarred by modern developments. Here we found in endless number along the road the donkey with panniers carrying goods to or from markets, donkeys carrying small loads and men and women who, it appeared to us, would have been more humanely occupied in carrying the donkeys. Here, too, we saw red petticoats in abundance, and also the old custom of a man and woman riding the one horse. It was all interesting, all picturesque, all truly Irish, and we were grateful, for it assured us that in their encroachments upon Ireland English customs had not penetrated as far West as Achill.

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In another respect we met with disappointment. Thackeray, for example, tells us that he saw thousands of people idling on the bridge at Galway. I did not see more than half a dozen on it, but it was early morning when I passed over it. Then he and other writers dwelt at large upon the wonders of Claddagh, and upon its ancient people, ancient laws and customs. In these grand old days the Claddagh people had a King and Queen of their own, and one of them describes a ball at which all the inhabitants attended, except the King and Queen, who were out selling fish, which was and is the principal source of livelihood of these descendants of Irish kings. But I did see the part of the town in which the present generation live, and I must say that if ever ruin and desolation were stamped on human dwellings it was here.

Claddagh, Galway c1900 – www.walkaboutgalway.com

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But so far as I could observe the track of desolation is over the place. Passing over the bridge, where Lough Corrib flows with a power that might drive any amount of machinery, I saw a huge building of bad and derelict look. I found it was Persse's distillery, which is now used as a store for lumber. I saw other old buildings, which had seen better days, but which now seemed to exist more as memories of the past than as incidents of the present. Eyre Square is the principal square and centre of Galway. On looking out from the Railway Hotel, on one side of it the first thing that meets the in a small old building, such as one would have associated with Carrick Hill in its oil days, and next to it a one-storey building, with its old thatch remaining, and, of course, unoccupied. I was not surprised to hear that many of the Home Rulers who visited Galway were disillusioned as to the advantages of local government in one part of Ireland at least.

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I could not say with these writers that I saw much idleness in the West, for in many parts of my tour I saw few people of the peasant class either working or idling. I do not think I saw a man working in a field in all Connemara. I could sympathise with a young lady who recently made a short stay in the West, who said that she was glad to get back to Dublin to enjoy the sight of a man. Had it not been for what I had read about the slackness of recruiting I should have said the men were all with the colours. But if there were many they were old, and not new recruits, if we are to believe the statistics. I dare say, however, many of them were away harvesting in England or Scotland.

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Still I must say I do not know what man would do in many parts of Mayo or Galway. In many places the stones are as plentiful as grass, and that does not seem of the richest. There is very little tillage over the greater part of the West that we passed through, so that it would be difficult to know how men could he employed. I did not observe any signs of what is called congestion, except, perhaps, at the extreme West, where the people seem to depend on fishing or tourists for a living.

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I must add, however, that I did not see so much beggary as I expected, and I will add, so many signs of poverty, so far as the dress or countenance of the people we met would suggest poverty. One of those old writers said that if giving to the poor was lending to the Lord, Ireland would be the place for promoters to establish Celestial banks. I honestly believe we have more poverty, so far as appearances would suggest poverty, in some of our Belfast slums than there is in the West of Ireland, so far as we saw it. It is true we may not have mingled much with the madding crowd in districts where poverty is paramount. But I can only speak of what I saw and heard. I have seen what I would call more poverty-stricken looks in the city than I saw in my entire route in the West.

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In reading old accounts of tours in the West I find that the principal features that struck the tourists in many districts were the workhouses, the jail, and the convents or chapels. We did observe that the workhouse does form a prominent feature of many towns, and so do chapels; but in some parts of the country jails have been amalgamated, and those that are left are only wrecks of their former selves, and not calculated to impress tourists. We found churches, or the vanes of churches, on various sections of our route, so that the moderns seem to keep pace, and more than pace, with the ancients in the great attention and lavish money they spend on their ecclesiastical buildings. While Roman Catholic churches so largely predominate, and while the popular representation both of the counties and the towns is chiefly in the hands of Roman Catholics, or of Protestants who do the work for them, perhaps even better than they could themselves, the Protestant element is well represented in both the West and South so far as our exploitation extended. In many of the towns and small districts a large number of the principal shops were occupied by Protestants. This is true from Connemara to Clare and from Sligo to Limerick, and of all places else most true of Limerick, where some of the finest shops and almost all the principal industries are in the hands of Protestants. And I am bound to say that, so far as my inquiries and information wont, these Protestants seem to be held in the highest respect. It is not for me either to explain or moralise on that. I merely mention this as one of the most striking features of my trip apart from the scenery.

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I can only say that it left on me the most pleasant recollections, and I would advise any Northerner who has the time and means to enjoy a holiday in either the West or the South. They will be warmly welcomed and well repaid in the variety of scene and life they will enjoy, in the wild picturesqueness of mountain and lake and dell that will pass like a splendid panorama before their eyes at every turn, and in the new experience of life and character that will be theirs.

– "The Man in the Street," in "The Ulster Echo."

Source: The Witness, 13 August 1915.

My Tour in the West – Ireland 1915 (pt2)

I must admit that so far as comfort and arrangements were concerned the evening and the morning that were our first day augured well for the pleasure as well as the enlightenment of the trip. It is true we did not see much of Sligo, but we saw much of its bays and surroundings. But we saw enough of it to satisfy is that both this town and its local government might be better, and that it should be in better hands. But I am afraid that that could be said of many other Urban Councils, so perhaps we should not regard Sligo as the chief of sinners in that; respect. But I do think from all I saw and heard that it is entitled to a front place in the ranks. At the railway station we discovered what great things the Midland Great Western Company had done for us, as they have done great things for the West of Ireland, of which more anon. We had a special saloon car at our disposal, and it continued with us till we took leave of its system at Ennis. We also had in special charge of us, so far as the railway was concerned, Mr. Thomas Elliott, the traffic superintendent, who is not only a most careful and capable official, but a most courteous and obliging gentleman. He looked after our comforts, creature and otherwise, so long as we remained in his bailliewick, and we all feel grateful not only to him for his attention and care, but grateful to the company for having sent him. I may say that I here, too, met for the first time Prof. Cook, who edits one of the best Irish guide books, and is himself a cyclopedia of information on the district and its resources, and can tell as many and as strange "fishing" stories as ever entered into the mind of an angler to relate or invent. He is a great angler as well as a great raconteur. At Galway he almost made me weep over the sufferings to which the salmon are exposed by nets. I felt ashamed to finish the salmon I had for breakfast lest it might have been unmercifully netted and deprived of a sporting chance of life. However, he was a most interesting companion, and we were all sorry to find that professional duties in Dublin called him away before the end of our tour. Under pleasant auspices and in a spirit of combined jollity, observation, and inquiry, we set out for Claremorris, Castlebar, and Westport to Mallaranny, a railway journey of four hours' duration. But with the variety and charm of the scenery, and advantages of conversation and comment, the journey did not seem long, and was far from wearisome. There were many points on the route, and especially Westport, with its rich foliage, and the residence of the Marquess of Sligo in its neighbourhood. But we had to push on, only glancing at what we might have dwelt on, with Achill and the Atlantic as our farthest object for the day. But when we got to Mallaranny and to the picturesque and well-equipped hotel which the Midland Railway provided, we did not desire to leave the place, and nothing but the assurance that we were to come back and remain overnight could have reconciled us to the departure. There, indeed, one in search of rest could remain many days, the world forgetting, by the world forgot. It is a considerable descent from the level of the railway to the level of the sea, and through beautiful hedgerows with fuchsias in plenty, we reach the hotel, about midway to the shore. The hotel is not only picturesque itself, but has in front a beautiful bay, with islands and mountains, so that the prospect was one to charm and delight. I may just stop here to say that the rivers and bays seem as plentiful in Connemara as mountains, and that the disciples of Isaac Walton could find rest and enjoyment, with abundance of fish waiting for the hook, and scenes that would delight the eye of an artist, and give pleasure and repose to any wearied soul. It is fishing, fishing everywhere, and plenty of fish to catch, if one knows how and cares for the sport. For my part I neither know nor care. But if any do they cannot go astray in finding fish and kindred sport in almost any part of the route over which we were carried.

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Tourists arrive by horse-drawn cart at Slievemore Hotel, Dugort, Achill c1900.
 National Library of Ireland LROY 06798

After luncheon and a short run on the railway we were once more on motoring bent, and a pleasant run of an hour and a half or so brought us through Achill to Dugart. where we were entertained by Mr. Sheridan at the Slievemore Hotel, to tea and talk, for Mr. Sheridan is not only a custodian of many curiosities, but he is a curiosity in himself, being an artist as well as hotel proprietor, and whose pictures are as much a feature of the hotel as its cleanliness and cuisine. A lovely and restful spot in itself, it had a special interest for me in the fact that just in front lies Blacksod Bay, about which so much has been heard in connection with the all Red route from Ireland to Canada. It seems that war vessels, can anchor in the bay, so that Atlantic liners might do the same. It would be an expensive matter to construct railways and harbour for such a service, and it is a question if it will be ever, or at any rate for a long time, carried out. But those who profess to know say that it is feasible, except for the money, and would shorten the distance between this country and Canada. Here as elsewhere the rod and gun have fine opportunities for exercise.

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It was on our return to Mallaranny, I think it was at Achill station, that we witnessed an interesting sight, in the light of the fate that has overtaken the Canadian flour in the Dufferin Dock – namely, the distribution of some waggon-loads of Canadian flour to the supposed poor people of the district. There were fifty or one hundred people, chiefly women, looking carefully after the flour, which some men were carrying out for them. They were all dressed, in the now to us familiar red petticoats, and were pushing and rushing and jabbering away in what I suppose was Irish, and laughingly welcoming the treasure trove. I found that some got two bags and some four, whether according to their relative necessities or the scale of their valuation I cannot say. All I can say is that if there was much distress among these people they disguised it wonderfully. I did not see half a dozen of pinched faces or ragged clothes such as we would associate with distress in Belfast. There was a healthiness and a cheerfulness suggestive of anything but poverty. It is perhaps true, as suggested to us by a native looker-on, that the people who were getting the flour were not the real and deserving poor at all, but those who understood the gentle art of manipulating. At any rate, if there was much distress among the people they did not show it. It may be, however, that the air is a food in itself, and that that made them all look so healthy. I cannot say. Someone, however, a looker-on, made the remark, whether original or not I cannot say, that "If it was not for these famines we would be all starved." The saying has its meaning and the incident its moral.

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On our return to Mallaranny we were entertained to diner by the Railway Company, the proprietor's of the hotel, and in due time, and after toasting our hosts and Mr. Elliott, and discussing the incidents of the day, we retired to rest with that contented feeling that arises from something having been accomplished, something done, to earn a night's repose. We had done Achill, and got a Pisgah view of the Atlantic, wherewith we were content. Sufficient for the day were the ever-changing panorama of wild and picturesque beauty and the moderately bright sun thereof.

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We have now reached the third day of our journey, and I must hurry up, as I find I am spending more days at the tale than at the trip. We bade farewell, and a regretful farewell, to Mallaranny at ten o'clock in the morning. Though our enthusiasm remained high, our spirits fell, for the morning was wet and dull, and in great part the day was as the morning. This was the day reserved for some of the best scenery, especially of mountain – the mountains known as the Twelve Pins and Croagh Patrick coming within our line of route. But, alas! We could see little, if any, mountain except its base, for their caps were all covered with clouds, and while their fleeces may have had a charm of their own we should have preferred the mountains to have had a place in the sun rather than in the clouds. However, we had to make the best of it. And we did.

Bath Hotel, Westport c1911

Our first stop was at Westport, where the Midland Great Western had motors to meet us. We had not time to observe the surroundings of Westport, which are beautiful, but we had a drive in the town, and saw the river which glides through it. And then we made our entry into Galway. Here we had mountains and valleys, rivers and bays at every turn. We had more foliage and less stones than at Mayo, and picturesqueness everywhere. It was on part of this route, if I remember aright, we were pointed out the residence of the inventor of the submarine, Mr. Holland. It appears he offered it at first to the British Government, which refused it, as usual, and the inventor had to find a market for it in the United States, whence it proceeded to Germany, and we now know the use the Germans have made of it. As a counterblast to that we were told that the man who fired the shell that sunk the first German war vessel came from the same neighbourhood, so that Ireland produced quite as great a hero as Michael O'Leary, though we do not hear so much about him. I could not say whether our run was twenty, thirty, or forty miles for the forenoon, for miles seemed as nothing to the chauffeurs or the motors, but true to time and rule we reached the Grand Hotel, Leenane, at the head of the beautiful Killary Bay, of which we had many fine views, at the scheduled hour. It is remarked in my guide-book that this place is noted for its excellent lunch, and it well deserves to be. The situation is beautiful and central, and the proprietor, Mr. M'Keown, is a marvel, for not only does he run a fine hotel with beautiful grounds, but he makes cloth, and gives considerable employment. It is all conducted in a most primitive way, but the results are said to be satisfactory to manufacturer and wearer. I may just mention -- and it is not peculiar to this place – that programmes are provided for a week's visit, with tours or fishing provided for each day.

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Leaving Leenane our next stop was at Clifden. It was on this part of our route that we enjoyed some of the most picturesque scenes of our trip. One of the finest of these was at Kylemore. With a lough in front, and rich woodland all around, stands the baronial pile erected by the late Mr. Mitchell Henry, M.P., at one time member of the firm of Messrs. A. & S. Henry, and a beautiful church provided by the same lavish hand close by. The mansion is stately and its situation picturesque. Seldom have I seen a residence so beautiful and so far from the madding crowd. Here, indeed, can rest be found, with everything to delight the eye and charm and satisfy the artistic sense. None but a man of taste could have conceived such a residence, and none but a man of great means could have provided it. But then Mr. Henry was rich, and member for Galway at the time, and so he pleased him self, and delighted his constituents at the same time. In the evening we reached Clifden, and saw the little town and some of the artists who make ornaments out of the Connemara marble, which is found within measurable distance of it. Our next halt was at Recess, which, like so many other places, is an angling centre. If Recess has many inhabited houses we did not see any save the Railway Hotel, which is situated at the head of a beautiful lough, and embowered among beautiful foliage. We could have dwelt long on this beautiful spot, but the gong sounded for dinner on arrival, and we found ourselves the guests of the Midland Great Western Railway, with Mr. Brady. M.P. for Stephen's Green, one of the directors of the company, representing them. We did ample justice to the dinner, which was as fine as could have been provided in any hotel in the kingdom, and the attendance, which was excellent, was all provided by girls. Our guides and ourselves took advantage of this occasion to thank the directors of the railway company for their kindness, which was marked, and their hospitality, which was lavish. At a late hour we entrained for Galway, which we reached after midnight, when we had our first news about the settlement of the coal strike, for during the rest of the time we were out of range of newspapers.

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Church Street, Ennis

Reserving what I might have to say about Galway I content myself to-day with a brief account of our next day's run, which in many respects was among the most pleasant of our tour. We travelled by the Midland Great Western through Athenry to Ennis, the capital of Clare, where we bade farewell to that railway that had done so much for us. Here we were transferred to a light railway, that of West Clare, and introduced to its veteran manager, Mr. P. Sullivan, the doyen of railway managers, and the finest specimen of a good-natured and kindly Irishman I have met. Here we were also joined by Mr. Smith, the traffic superintendent of the Great Southern and Western Railway, which company interests itself in this movement, and is co-operating heartily in every effort to develop touring in the South and South-West. Mr. Smith proved an interesting companion as well as a most capable and experienced railway official. Here, as in the former part of our route, we had a special saloon carriage, but it was like a toy compared with the other. But if smaller in size, it was a model of taste and neatness, with fine coloured glass windows, more suggestive of a Cathedral than a railway carriage. And, what is more, it was all of home manufacture, this small railway making all its own carriages. We had a pleasant run through Clare, which is more noted for pasture than tillage, and more noted for crime than either. Our first stop was at Lahinch, a lovely little spot by the sea, with an hotel constructed of Norwegian pine, and removed from its natal place in sections. It is picturesque and comfortable. In addition to the sea, the pride of Lahinch is its golf course and its hotel, which is named after golf, and its charming scenery. Here we were entertained to an elegant luncheon, presided over by Mr. Murray, who is chairman of the company. I had an idea I had seen him before, and after an introduction I was sure, for he is Mr. Murray, of Limerick, head of one of the finest drapery establishments in the South – Tod & Co. – and connected with many of the most flourishing concerns in the city. He is a member of the Presbyterian Church, and I then remembered I had met him at the Assembly in Belfast in the old days of instrumental music, in which he took a great interest. I was proud to hear that he is held in honour all over Limerick, where his name and work for the promotion of industry and all good work is a household one. From Lahinch we were motored by the coast to Ballyvaughan, and then by a serpentine or cork-screw road over the mountains to Lisdoonvarna. With the Atlantic on one hand and for the great part mountains covered with stone, on the other, the experience of this drive was as novel and interesting as the scene was picturesque and suggestive. For mile upon mile, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but mountains of huge boulders that at a distance suggested heather till you realised that they had another covering. Lisdoonvarna, celebrated for its spas and its health-giving propensities, is situated at the top of the mountain, and is mainly a town of hotels and boarding-houses. My part of the company was entertained at the Queen's Hotel, which has a charming prospect, and is well equipped with all comforts and conveniences. Lisdoonvarna is a favourite health resort not only for the people of the South, but from many other parts of the country, and not least by Roman Catholic clergy, of whom there were many. We sampled the waters, and were shown over the grounds. I must say that the spot seems ideal as a health resort, and its arrangements are most modern.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Having done justice to Lisdoonvarna, we were motored to Ennis, a station on the Clare Railway, and driven by a special train to Kilkee, where we were put up at Moore's Hotel, of which Miss M. Fulham is the manageress. It was morning before we could see Kilkee, but the sight of it was worth the whole journey. It is one of the most picturesque watering-places in Ireland, with a beautiful strand and ruggod rocks that add to its picturesque grandeur. The morning was bright and beautiful, and we saw the place at its best, with hundreds of children enjoying themselves in the sands and in the surf. It has a local Council, but its guide, philosopher, and friend seem to be the Rev. Canon Glynn, who did the honours of the reception for us, and explained what he and others had done for modernising the town in the matter of sanitation and water. Pure water to drink and the waters and waves of the Atlantic to sport in Kilkee must surely have a great future before it, as it is very good and growing in the present.

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At noon we left for Kilrush, a fine shipping port a few miles from Kilkee. It seems an industrious and thriving little town. Here we joined the Limerick Steamship Company's Shamos, and steamed up to Limerick, which we reached at four o'clock.

– "The Man in the Street," in "The Ulster Echo."

Source: The Witness, 6 August 1915.

My Tour in the West – Ireland 1915

Monday.

I have just returned from a tour in Connemara and in the West and South-West of Ireland. It was most interesting and illuminative. It was a lightning tour, but it was unaccompanied by any thunder except the thunder of eloquence, and occasionally the thunder of the Atlantic. Tt was carried out under the most pleasant auspices. We had as guides, philosophers, and friends two of the leading spirits of the Irish Tourist organisation, Mr. J. Maher Loughnan and Mr. C. Hartnell, with Mr. Moore, of the celebrated Cook Touring Agency, and Mr. Hewitt, of the Lunn and Polytechnic Touring Organisations, and we had as hosts the Midland and Great Western Railway Company, and we had saloon carriages, special trains, and, motors placed at our disposal. But if our programme was interesting it was also exhausting. We were assured there was "no time" in Connemara, but we found if there was none among the natives, our guides and our guardians took good care to keep us up to time – and a good time I admit it was. We were conducted over all the principal spots of interest in the West, from the Corrib to the Shannon, from Achill Point to Kilkee and Limerick. Regarded as pleasure it was delightful; regarded as work the most tolerant trades unionist would have rebelled. There was no eight hours' day. From early morn to dewy eve we were on the run and rush, and on one memorable occasion it was after midnight before we were delivered safe and sound in the City of the Tribes. But we know that the pleasure we delight in physics pain; in this case physicked work -- for there was no pain and no grumbling.

Between sleeping and rushing between dining and driving, between talking and listening, between rest and refreshment, between posing for the camera and watching nature's poses there was little time left for either blessing or cursing, for writing, or even reading. News travelled so slowly compared to us that it hardly overtook us. We were all interested in the fate of Warsaw and the Welsh coal strike, but we could hear nothing about either until any that was bad become stale to the rest of the world. Forced to forget the world, and by the world forgotten, we pursued the even, and occasionally the uneven, tenor of our way. We knew there was day or night, but we had difficulty in remembering the day of the week; in fact, often we had to look up our itinerary to discover what day of the week it was at any time any of us found leisure to inquire.

I set out with the intention of writing up each day's proceedings in the form of a diary, and I made an attempt at the outset, part of which I hope to reproduce. But while I hoped to present my narrative in the form of a diary I assure my readers it will be as great though as pleasant a task on my memory to do so as it was on my energies to keep pace with the young men in a hurry, who dragged me at their heels. Reserving my diary for future day or days, as my pen will provide or my readers endure, I wish, to-day

Reserving my diary for future day or days, as my pen will provide or my readers endure, I wish, to-day to present a brief outline of our tour, and a few general impressions. If I happen to bore my readers by my narrative it will be my fault, for I assure them they would not be bored by travelling over the same ground. But I would advise any who would do so, and I hope many will to hasten more slowly than we did; to tour in a more leisurely fashion, though I would not ask them to do it in a more lordly fashion. We were through all Connaught, and witnessed, or were within easy reach, of all places of scenic interest, from Sligo Bay to Blacksod Bay, and round by Clew Bay to lough Corrib and Galway Bay. Thence we proceeded through Gaffe to Ennis and Kilkee and the Atlantic. Then we sailed for four hours on the Shannon, winding up our tour to Limerick, where among many other cases I was snapshotted beside the Treaty Stone. There was little worth seeing that We were not shown, and little worth telling that we did not hear. The only disability we suffered from that the sun did not shine on us with the brilliancy it did this morning, as I peered out at my temporary home from home, at Whitehead. The clouds and the rain, were too dense for even him to peer through, and too dense to enable us to see the various mountain pinnacles that rose majestically along our route. But the sun gave us an occasional peep and an occasional beam. He seems, however, to have partially sulked while we were in Connemara, but he came out of his tent on the lordly Shannon, and made our journey there so pleasant that we unanimously decided to forgive him for his neglect of us in Connemara. I may say, however, in justice to ourselves and our hosts, that we did not miss him much, for with the combined warmth of our own hearts and theirs quite a summer heat and brightness pervaded us everywhere. I hope to prove this before I conclude.

It would, of course, be impossible to keep politics and religion out of the minds of any of us, but we never touched it with our tongues, except in chaff, or in sadness for what these had done, or not done, for Connemara. Out hosts differed as much in politics and religion as we did. There were among the twenty odd journalists both Unionists and Nationalists, Roman Catholics and Protestants. There was the "News-Letter" and "Evening Telegraph" and the "Freeman" and the "Independent," and there was "The Witness" and the "Irish Catholic." With such comminglings it would hove been folly to spoil our pleasure by arguing and quarrelling with each other as if we represented rival factions of Nationalists. We agreed to conceal our differences and unite in our points of agreement, which was to enjoy the scenic charms of Connemara, Clare, and the Shannon, and ask others to enjoy them for themselves. Unionism and Nationalism, Protestant and Catholic were only names to us, and only mentioned as matters of fact and not as matters of controversy. And to do the Tourist Organisation Society justice, I am perfectly satisfied that the one feeling that animates them is to do practical good to the country by attracting visitors from one part to another, and to bring plenty in their train to North and South. The one thing needful for this season and for all summer seasons is that people should find rest and change, and how could they find both better than by exploring and exploiting their own country, and making more prosperous those parts of our beautiful island that are most dependent on tourists far their livelihood; and in many of these districts the people have nothing but their scenery to live on and what it can bring in the way of tourists.

I may just say in conclusion that during the week I must have covered between trains and motors and steamers over seven hundred miles – not a bad week's work in itself.

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Thursday.

The best laid schemes of mice and journalists often gang agley. Between the best intentions and their execution there is sometimes a great gulf fixed. I set out on my Western trip with the idea of writing it up in diary form, but as I did not write it up daily, as I meant to do, and I now find days and places so inextricably mingling in any brain that I must content myself with a general rather then a diurnal record. Our tour began on Monday, and continued until Saturday, when the Northern contingents took leave of their colleagues. Having enjoyed the sweet toil of travel far a week we have all resumed the less sweet toil of labour, abandoning high jinks in the drawing room of life for the more simple enjoyments of the kitchen. That we had a good time goes without saying. No one could have been sad in such company and amid such varied scenes.

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According to the original programme, we from the North should have joined the party in Dublin, and left that Capital on Monday morning, paying a visit to Lough Gill on the way. Two Belfast journalists and myself chose the shorter route via Enniskillen. But we missed not only a scene of beauty, but of great joy, for the Mayor and Corporation of Sligo entertained the party in the little vessel with that generous hospitality so characteristic of the West from the days of Charley O'Malley to the present time. Even with the cost and waste of war to face, and with the local rates in the locality running from 12s to 15s in the £, the hearts of the people of the West are given to hospitality. I do not say this in a churlish, but rather in a disappointed way, for I was told by my colleagues that the welcome and the hospitality were alike cordial and characteristic. But if we missed the treat of the Mayor and Corporation in the morning we enjoyed it in the evening, and it was all the heart or home of man could expect anywhere, to say nothing of the West.

Lough Gill, Sligo – Atlas and Cyclopedia of Ireland (1900) Library Ireland

It was four o'clock on Monday afternoon when we reached Sligo by way of Clones and Enniskillen, and the Sligo and Leitrim Railway. At Enniskillen we met Mr. Armstrong, the excellent manager of the latter, who is doing so much to develop the district which he serves. We had half an hour in Enniskillen, where we met an old journalistic colleague, Mr. William Ritchie, who has crowned a life of labour by an age of ease, as the successful proprietor and Editor of the "Fermanagh Times," and who hospitably entertained us. The only thing that troubled Mr. Ritchie, and I may add Mr. Armstrong also, was that Lough Erne, with its picturesque islands and rich woodland surroundings, had hot been included in our tour. But Mr. Ritchie was not the only journalist we met there. Mr. Trimble, a local Editor and proprietor, and the organiser of the Fermanagh Horse, was out travelling companion till the borders of Sligo, and from him we learned all that need be known about the grandeur of Fermanagh.

What we did notice, however, that as soon as we left the County Fermanagh we left something like a cold shiver come over us. While Fermanagh showed abundance of rich lands and fine woods, Leitrim was bare of both. We passed at once from timber to stones, from rich lands to poor lands. The trees were few and far between, and the soil was more like that associated with Connaught than with Ulster, or whose borders it lies. Rain began to fall at the time, which added to the chilling and depressing effect. Sligo brightened us up a little, for we began to see green trees and arable land instead of stones and barrenness. This was not my first visit to Sligo. I spent some days in it nearly forty years ago when the Land League was in its infancy and only in training for an age of crime and outrage. The occasion was the trial of Michael Davitt, the founder of the League; John Daly, of Castlebar; and John B. Killen, then a young Irish barrister with advanced leanings on land and national questions. He, I am told, is still alive. They were summoned for language used in speeches at a meeting somewhere in the county, is regard to which one of the best professional reporters of his day and some police shorthand writers, among whom, if I remember right, was Mr. Jerry Stringer, afterwards a head constable in Belfast, gave evidence.

I may here say that part of the contention of the Crown was that the speakers, or some of them, made suggestive reference to the fate that landlords deserved; but the case of the defendants was that it was landlordism and not landlords the threats were made. Mr. John Rea, I have little doubt on the inspiration of Mr. Killen, was specially engaged to defend the prisoners, which he did with a vigour and thoroughness that surprised not only the local magistrates, but the local public. But, to do his memory justice, he did it in his best style. I cannot remember the results of the trial, but I think a short imprison, but followed. I may here recall that Mr. Davitt stopped at the same hotel as myself, so that I saw a great deal of him. He was a very dark, sinister-looking man, and devoid of the right arm. But at the time he had taken to journalism, and between his writing in the court, and he wrote at a rapid rate with his left hand, and in his hotel must have turned out reams of copy during the trial. As I am writing, the impression comes to me that Davitt conducted his own defence, but I am not quite sure.

Castle Street, Sligo c1910 – National Library of Ireland

There was a difference between my first arrival in Sligo and my second. The first was in the middle of the night, and in very cold weather, so that I was muffled up. Some one had given me the name of the Imperial Hotel to stop at, and at the station I made my way to the hotel 'bus to find myself alone, all my colleagues from Dublin having booked for the Victoria. No sooner had I got seated than I observed a band forming up in front of the 'bus as if to escort some occupant to the hotel. As I did not think such a distinction was intended for me, I questioned the hotel boots as to the meaning or occasion for this unexpected tribute. His reply was that Mr. Parnell had been expected that night, and the members of the band had mistaken me for Mr. Parnell – my beard was more brown than it is to-day, and that was almost all of me they could see, and Mr. Parnell had a brown beard. I hurriedly explained to the man that I was not Mr. Parnell, whereupon the band melted away, and so I had to go to the hotel unhonoured and without a musical escort. It was the only time in my life when I had the chance of a Nationalist ovation, and I sometimes regret that I had not taken advantage of it. Still I dreaded what would have been the consequence when my hour of repose and speech had come.
On my late tour, in common with my two friends, I had been booked for the Victoria Hotel, and we all got into the 'bus, glad of a change from our long journey. But we were no sooner seated than a young man came up and asked if we belonged to the Tourist Organisation party. I am not quite sure if he did say organisation, but we understood him, and we said we did. He told us that he had a motor, and had been told to convey us somewhere or other. We took him on trust. No sooner were we seated in the car than we discovered that there was something distinguishing about it. I have sometimes seen motors engaged in special Unionist or legal work displaying a couple of small "Union Jacks." Our motor sported a couple of flags, too, but they were of a different colour. One was the Irish flag, and the other the Belgium flag. I may just here say that from I entered the gateway of the West till I left it I did not see a Union Jack, except, perhaps, on a recruiting poster. The only sight suggestive of the red, white, and blue was three young and pretty girls at a station in Clare, one of whom wore a red jacket, the second a white jacket, and the third a blue one, and whether from accident or design they walked abreast with the colours in the order, mentioned.

In a few minutes we met nearly half a score of motors containing the members of our expedition from Dublin and several members of the Dublin Corporation, who had been doing the honours of Lough Gill to our colleagues. We then set out on a twenty or thirty mile motor drive, which included the Falls of Glencar and Rosse's Point, a fine watering-place within short distance of Sligo, where we were entertained by the heads of the Golf Club, and where there is an excellent golf course that the members claim to be a champion course. I did not go over it and I cannot say; and, to be candid, I could not have said if I had gone ever it. This was our first motor drive in the West. The scenery was interesting, but the land was not. We saw little tillage and little ground that could be tilled, and we did not see many cattle on the land that appeared suitable for grazing.

On our return to Sligo part of us were housed at the Victoria and part at the Imperial Hotel. I was among those at the Victoria. We found the hotel clean and comfortably, and were hospitably entertained by Mr. Hall the proprietor. I had not sufficient time to see how far Sligo had improved or otherwise since my visit, but did notice some good business houses, especially that of Lyons, as well known and popular in the West. I had hoped to see Mr. Jackson, a Belfast man, who is at the head of a large milling add shipping industry in Sligo, but unfortunately he was not at home, as I hoped to learn from him something of the business and labour conditions of the city. There is here, as in many other places in the West, a magnificent Roman Catholic church; I think, indeed, it must be a Cathedral, it is so grand. I understand Sligo is a good business town, but cannot be nailed a progressive or prosperous one. Yet it seems a fine centre for business, but its local government is none of the best. I am told that the local rates ran from 12s 6d to 14s or 15s in the £. That is a great charge upon the ratepayers, and they do not seem to get very much for it all. As a rule Sligo comes in as the end of Connemara touring, but we made it the beginning, so that Sligo and not Galway was, as the guidebooks say, our gateway to the wonderful West.

– "The Man in the Street," in "The Ulster Echo."

Source: The Witness, 30 July 1915.

Irish Proverbs

The Milesian Irish believe that their ancient Kings, Brehons, and Fileas were men of great intelligence and wisdom, — that the sayings of Ollamh-fodhla, Fithil the wise, Moran, and Cormac Mac Art, were so many lessons of human wisdom, — that the venerable dicta of Finghin, Kicran, Columbkille, &c. were so many maxims of sacred truth, and their actions so many examples of virtue; and the wit of Goban Saér, the celebrated Deadalus of Ireland, is yet remembered and told with vivacity.

Amongst a people who entertain so high an opinion of the talent of their predecessors, it should be expected that some trace of this wisdom would still remain, and that a few at least of these proverbial sayings should be discovered; but whoever makes the enquiry, through the medium of books, will find that, amongst all the nations of the world, the proverbs of the Irish are the most vulgar, awkward, incoherent, and ridiculous, indicating a lowness of sentiment, and a total lack of mental refinement.

Proverbs owe their origin to the sayings of wise men, allusions of ancient poets, the customs and manners of nations, they are adapted to common use as ornaments of speech, set rules of instruction, arguments of wisdom, to which time has given assent, and maxims of undeniable truth. The peculiar veneration which the Irish have for their ancient proverbs, has given rise to a well known assertion: Ni feider an sean-fhocal do sharúghadh. It is impossible to contradict the old word (proverb.)
From this it will, I think, be granted, that a perfect list of the proverbs of any people is, as it were, an index to the national character, or the elements of the moral notions, customs, and manners of a people.

In Ray's splendid collection of English, Scotch, Italian, Spanish, Danish, and Oriental Proverbs, the following list of Irish ones are given, which shows how Ireland has been made known to the world, by the circulation of that learned and excellent work, as a nation of blunderers and blockheads!! And no Irishman has ever since come forward to defend the wisdom of Ollav Fodhla, by translating and publishing a list of genuine Irish proverbs!! Shame Ireland!

Ray says, "The following proverbs are presumed to be Irish:"

1.	"She is like a Mullingar heifer, beef to the heels.
2.	"He is like a Waterford merchant, up to the -------- in business.
3.	"His eyes are like two burnt holes in a blanket.
4.	"Full of fun and foustre, like Mooney's goose.
5.	"He looks as angry as if he were vexed.
6.	"'Tis as bad as cheating the devil in the dark, and two farthing candles for a halfpenny.
7.	"He'd skin a louse, and send the hide and fat to market."

These are, without doubt, modern English-IRISH proverbs of the lowest order, and rudest nature, but they have no more to do with the wise sayings of the ancient Milesian Irish, than with the proverbs of Solomon, or the wise savings of the Brahmins; the following list of genuine Irish proverbs, translated principally from Hardiman's Irish Minstrelsy, will satisfy the philosophic enquirer of national character, on this head:

1.	An t-scod dofhaghála's i is áilne. The rare jewel is the most beautiful.
2.	Air li ni breith fear gan suilibh. A blind man is no judge of colours.
3.	Annair a bhidheann an cat a muigh bidheann na lacha a g rainnceadh. When the cat is out, the mice dance.
4.	Annair is cruadh dón chailligh caithfidh si rith. When the old hag is in danger she must run.
5.	Bidh ádh air Amadán. Even a fool has luck.
6.	Beul eidhin a's croidhe cuilinn. A mouth of ivy, a heart of holly. [The leaves of ivy are soft and smooth, those of holly rough and prickly — a metaphorical proverb.]
7.	Beatha an Staraidhe firinne. The historian's food is truth.
8.	Bidh borb fo sgeimh. Fierceness is often hidden under beauty.
9.	Bidh boirbeacht i n-geal ghaire. There is often anger in a laugh.
10.	Bidh cluanaidhe a n-deagh-chulaidh. A good dress often hides a deceiver.
11.	Buaine clá na saoghal. Fame is more lasting than life.
12.	Briathar baoth baothantacht. A foolish word is folly.
13.	Bocht an Eaglais bhios gan cheol. The church that has no music is poor indeed.
14.	Cnuasaigh an am oireamhmach. Lay up in time.
15.	Caoin re ccannsa. Mild to the meek.
16.	Briseann an duthchas tre shíalibh an chait. Cat after kind. "Da mheid Eolais, radhare is foghlaim "Do gheibheann an cóbach, mac an Daoi "Briseann an duthchas tres an m-bruid "Tar eis gach cúrsa do chur a g-crích. Whatever knowledge, education, or learning. The clown, son of the low-bred man, acquires. His own congenial nature still appears, After passing through every course.
17.	Claoidheann neart ceart. Force overcomes justice.
18.	Caomhnann dochas ant-ingreamach. Hope consoles the persecuted.
19.	Ni thuigeann an Sáthach an seang. The satiated forget the hungry.
20.	Codlda fada spaideann leanbh. Long sleep renders a child inert.
21.	Deineacht gan luas. Hurry without haste.
22.	Dearbhralhair leadranachta olachán. Drunkenness is the brother of robbery.
23.	Dóchas liagh gach anró. Hope is the physician of each misery.
24.	Duilghe an t-uaibhreach do cheannsughadh. It is difficult to tame the proud.
25.	Diomhaoineas mian amadain. Idleness is the desire of a fool.
26.	Dearc sul leimir. Look before you leap.
27.	Dearbh caraid roimh riachtanas. Prove a friend before necessity (poverty.)
28.	Eadtrom ór ag Amadan. Gold is light with a fool.
29.	Feárr deire fleidhe 'ná tus bruighne. The end of a feast is better than the beginning of a quarrel.
30.	Feárr dreoilin i n-dorn 'ná corr air cairde. A wren in the hand is better than a crane out of it.
31.	An te Chidheann amiúgh fuaruigheann a chuid. He who is out, his supper cools.
32.	Fada cuimhne sein-leinbh. The memory of an old child is long.
33.	Foillsighthear gach nidh re haimsir. Every thing is revealed by time.
34.	Féadann Cat dearcadh for righ. A cat can look at a king.
35.	Foighid leigheas sean-ghalair. Patience is the cure of an inveterate disease.
36.	Foghlaim mian gach Eagnaidhe. Learning is the desire of the wise.
37.	Fearŕ clú 'ná conach. Character is better than wealth.
38.	Gan oileamhain, gan mhodh. Without education, without manners, i.e. he who is without education, is also &c.
39.	Gan lon, gan charaid. Without treasure, without friends.
40.	Gan chiste is fuar an chlu. Without treasure, character is cold.
41.	Gach nidh ghabhthar go holc imthigheam go holc. Whatever is ill acquired, passes away ill; or whatever is got on the devil's back, falls under his belly.
42.	Gnidheann bladar caradas. Flattery procures friendship.
43.	Gnath ocrach fiochmhar. A hungry man is angry, (peevish.)
44.	Gach am ni h-eagnach savi. No man is wise at all times.
45.	Gach ni daor mian gach mná. Every dear article is woman's desire.
46.	Is treise gliocas 'ná neart. Wisdom exceeds strength.
47.	Is milis fion, is scarbh a ioc. Wine is sweet; to pay for it bitter.
48.	Iomhaigh am bháis codhla. Sleep is the image of death.
49.	Is sodh daochain. Enough is a feast.
50.	Is Dall an gradh baoth. Foolish love is blind.
51.	Is fearr an mhaith a ta 'na an mhaith a bhi. Present good is better than past good.
52.	Is eagnach deaghdhuine. A good man is a wise man.
53.	Loiteann aoradh mor-chlá. Satire wounds a great character.
54.	Lnidheann proimpeallan for otrach. A BETTLE buries himself in DUNG.
55.	Luidheann cruadhtan for dhiomhaoineas. Hardship attends idleness.
56.	Liagh gach boicht bas. Death is the physician of the poor.
57.	Mairg dárb ceilc baothan borb. Woe to her whose husband is a surly fool.
58.	Mairg fheallas air a charaid. Woe to him who betrays his friend.
59.	Mairg a threigeas a thighearna. Woe to him who abandons his lord.
60.	Má's maith leat a bheith buan caith fuar agus TEITH. If you wish to be long-lived eat cold and hot; or if you wish to be long-lived eat cold and flee. (fuge.) The ambiguity lies in the last word, which signifies either the adjective hot, or the imperative form of the verb to fly. [This is not properly speaking a proverb; but we must admit it affords a striking instance of the happy inventive powers, comprehension, and shrewdness, of the lower classes of the Irish: perhaps few instances could be adduced more happy in conception, or successful in application than this sentence, as will appear from the circumstance from which it is said to have originated. It was given as a friendly advice, a long time since, to a celebrated Irish freebooter in the town of Naas. The freebooter it appears called at an inn and ordered a hot dinner to be prepared for him, but the innkeeper recognized the freebooter, and, as a good member of the community, he deemed it his duty to send for the authorities in order to have him secured; fortunately for the freebooter, it happened that the waiter, who was preparing the dinner, had been heretofore his intimate friend and companion in many a desperate and perilous enterprize of misguided valour, but as the master was present, the waiter was afraid to inform the freebooter in plain terms that his enemies were at hand; he therefore gave him the hint as conveyed in the above ambiguous sentence, which the freebooter (being a man of the quickest apprehension) immediately comprehending, mounted his horse, which had on many previous occasions borne him in safety from his pursuers, and flying with the swiftness of the Arabian steed escaped, for that time, the strong arm of justice.]
61.	Ni fhuil gaol ag aon re saoi gan seun. No one is related to a man without prosperity.
62.	Ni car gach bladaire. Every flatterer is not a friend.
63.	Ni uaisleacht gan subhailce. There is no nobility without virtue.
64.	Ni fhuil ro aosta re foghuim crionachta. Never too old to learn wisdom.
65.	Ni fhuil saoi gan locht. There is no one without fault. Nemo sine crimine visit.
66.	Or iodhal na santach. Gold is the idol of the covetous.
67.	Olc síon nach maith d'aon. That weather is bad which is not good for some person.
68.	Otracht sodh an Liaigh. Sickness is the physician's feast.
69.	Righ miofhoghlamtha is asal corónta. An ignorant king is a crowned ass.
70.	Saruigheann Eagna gach saidhbhreas. Wisdom exceeds riches.
71.	Soightheach folamh is mo torann. An empty vessel makes most noise. [Applied to a talkative man.]
72.	Saidhbhreas sior subhailce. Virtue is eternal wealth.
73.	Sgeitheann fion firinne. In vino veritas. Wine pours out the truth. [Applied to a drunken man who foolishly blabs out his secrets.]
74.	Tig grian a n-diaidh na fearthana. Sunshine follows rain; i.e. joy succeeds affliction.
75.	Tig iomchar re foghlaim From education comes conduct.
76.	Tos mhaith leath na h-oibre. A good beginning is half the work.
77.	Tosach coille a's deirc móna. The beginning of a wood; the end of a bog.
78.	Umhlacht d' uaisleacht. Obedience to nobility.
79.	Fion a n-diu, uisge amarach. Wine to-day, water to-morrow.
80.	Buail an ceann a's seachain an muineul. Strike the head, but touch not the neck; i.e. there are two ways for killing a man.
OF WEATHER.
81.	Dearg aniar is ionann a's Grian. Red in the west portends sunshine; i.e. when, after the setting of the sun, the west appears red, it portends that the next day will be fine.
82.	Dearg anoir is ianann a's sioc. Red in the east is a sign of frost.
83.	Bogha fliuch na maidne, bogha tirm na trathnona. Rainbow in the morning is a sign of rain; in the evening, of dry weather.*
84.	"Mathair eatha oigh. "A thair sailla sneachta. "Tuarfola fleacha. "Tuar teadma tart. "Deach do sionuibh ceb' "Acht do mhuir ni torthach torann."                               Cormac Mac Art. Frost favours the growth of corn; (i.e. it prepares the earth for its production.) Snow favours the growth of trees.† Much rain is an omen of blood. Drought is an omen of plague. Fog is good for the seasons. Thunder destroys the fertility of the sea.                             JOHN O'DONOVAN.

* A rainbow can only occur when the clouds, containing or depositing the rain, are opposite to the sun, and in the evening the rainbow in the east, and in the morning in the west; and as our heavy [--?--] this climate, are usually brought by the westerly wind, a rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on the road, by [--?--] us; whereas the rainbow in the east, proves that rain in thes[--?--] passing from us. -- Salmonia.
† La nieve per otto di é madre allaterra da indi in la é matrig[--?--] Snow for a se'ennight is a mother to the earth, for ever after a step-mother.


Source: The Dublin Penny Journal, Vol. 1, No. 20 (Nov. 10, 1832), pp. 158-159

The French Settlers In Ireland - No. 9

BELFAST.

Few of the present inhabitants of Belfast are aware that there are still amongst them the descendants of French refugees, who settled here, as in other parts of Ireland, in consequence of religious persecutions. The town, which was afterwards to become the prosperous capital of Ulster, exhibited a very different appearance at the time of their arrival from its present one. Thick woods encompassed it on every side; the extensive garden and orchard of the Castle are described, by an English tourist of the time, as reaching down to the Lagan, which was then a wide river; while the Castle itself (of which we know nothing but the site) is mentioned as "a dainty and stately palace, the beauty and glory of the town." A narrow stream flowed down the principal thoroughfare (now High Street), planted at each side with trees, and crossed at intervals by several bridges. The town was regularly fortified and surrounded by a deep fosse. No busy sound of manufacturing industry filled the air; nor was there seen the crowded traffic of populous thoroughfares, nor the shipping of a flourishing port. No factories with their tall chimneys poured forth volumes of smoke into the atmosphere, nor polluted the pure stream with their refuse. Indeed there was nothing to indicate that, after the lapse of two centuries, this third or fourth rate town would reach its present size and eminence. Nevertheless, Belfast had even then mercantile importance sufficient to attract the attention of strangers, and, amongst others, a number of French emigrants were induced to settle here. These may be described as the pioneers of the refugees who afterwards became citizens of the place. One of these bore the well-known name of Le Byrtt,^a descended from the brave ancestor who obtained great renown in the French wars of Henry V. of England, by slaying in single combat, the celebrated warrior, De Penicè, and contributing greatly by his gallant conduct to the defeat of the enemy; and who, as the old chronicle says, "so did the King great service" that he was allowed to adopt the coat of arms of his opponent along with his own, and the motto "Loyal au Mort." Another of the early settlers was the descendant of the private secretary of Mary Queen of Scots, and whose heroic sister, Mary Curl, remained with her royal mistress during all her trials, and was her attendant even when she suffered on the scaffold; her conduct and demeanour being in perfect accordance with the motto of her family, "Un Dicu, un Roi, une Foi."^b

It may be also mentioned, in connection with the refugees, that Belfast afforded the last resting-place for the remains of the Chevalier De Champagné, a French officer in King William's army, and for those of a Balquière. One of the honoured founders of our Belfast Charitable Society was a Gillan: and there also settled here a Gaussen of the same family that gave to Saumur a professor, and in after times to Geneva another theological teacher of high repute.^c It was here, likewise, that De Lolme sought employment at one period of his eventful career. The parish church received as its vicar James Saurin,^d nephew of the most celebrated preacher of his day. Here is the grave of a descendant of the noble Chartres^e family: his brave ancestor came over to this country with King William III., in whose service he held the rank of colonel. Here too lived and died a descendant of Kins Henry the 4th of France.^f Near Belfast resided a lineal descendant of the Count of Thoulouse, whose ancestor escaped from France before the "Massacre of St. Bartholomew," but who assumed the name of Dolling, from a village on his brother's property.^g The Belfast Academy at one time had, as its English Master, the son of a Huguenot settler, named Goyer, who was an excellent teacher of the language. A distinguished surgeon of Belfast, named Forcade, who died about twenty-five years ago, was the son of a Huguenot merchant; and the descendants of a French clergyman, named Sueter, are known to have lived in this town.

These few names of French settlers are the only ones we have been able to trace with certainty; and we have descendants of all of them among us still. Other French names are met with in the Belfast parish registers of the period, viz.:--

Bruet,	Juret,	Pimblet,	Luney,	Guest,	Godsell,	Mallard,
Culbert,	Lisle,	Prynault,	D'Alton,	Floyer,	Cuney,	Bey,
Dumay,	Luney,	Pettigrew,	Ayres,	Latimer,	Morrin,	Jamphrey,
Delap,	Nipe,	Sandal,	Lackney,	Hugart,	Delap,	Cately?

But, besides the descendants of Huguenots, many other inhabitants of Belfast are of French or Norman extraction. Some of these came over from Scotland or England at a very early period, while others immigrated much more recently. Subjoined are some of the names of the former class.

Charters,	La Mont,	Montgomery,	Joy,
Dunville,h	Suffern (Souverain),	Sinclair (St. Clair),	Lesqueir,
Weir (De Vere),	Tomb,	Telfair (Taille-fer),	Mereci.

Of the more recent class may be mentioned Bourdot, the well-known name of a hair-dresser in Belfast forty years ago. His father landed in Ireland with General Thurot, at his unsuccessful attack on Carrickfergus; and, with a number of other men who were taken prisoners, preferred remaining here to returning home after their release. We trace to a French origin the family of Pottinger, recently distinguished by the eminent services, in the East, of the late Sir Henry Pottinger, as well of his brother Eldred. Another brother, Colonel W. Pottinger, still survives. Thomas Pottinger was the first "Sovereign" of Belfast; and his son Thomas was High Sheriff of the County Antrim at the time of King William's arrival, and is recorded to have raised the county in his favour, to have sold his own plate, and to have induced others to do the same, in order to aid the army of that monarch. The brother of the High-Sheriff, Captain Edward Pottinger, conveyed King William to Carrickfergus in his frigate, the Dartmouth. It was the same intrepid captain, in his vessel of 280 tons, and accompanied by another ship of war, who convoyed the merchantmen who broke the boom at the Siege of Derry. This gallant man and his vessel were shortly after lost by shipwreck off the Isle of Mull, while on the look-out for some French vessels which were expected with supplies for King James's army. From these ancestors the present Pottinger family is descended. The name is still preserved as the appellation of two localities in Belfast and the vicinity, "Pottinger's Entry" in High Street, and "Mount Pottinger" in the suburb of Ballymacarrett.

C. D. PURDON.

[a] Le Byrtt. -- The last descendant of this family, which formerly gave, more than once, a chief magistrate to the town, was the late Surgeon W. Byrt, who died in Belfast, after an honourable career as military surgeon. This estimable citizen was a large contributor, by will, to the endowment of Christ's Church, where a monument to his memory exists.

[b] The present John Currell, Esq., of Belfast, is the descendant of Queen Mary's Secretary.

[c] Gaussen. -- The present family of Gaussen resident in the County of Derry, some collateral branches of which also reside in Belfast, trace their descent from this source. Pierre Gaussen, nephew of one of the brothers who came to England, became a Governor of the Bank of England, and a Director of the Hon. East India Company. His high position did not alter the benevolence of his character, as he became one of the directors of the Hospital of Refugees in 1779, and consented to act as its treasurer. The same kindly disposition is perpetuated among the descendants of the brother who settled in Belfast.

[d] For an account of the family of Saurin, see the paper on the Lisburn Huguenot Settlement, in this Journal.
In connexion with the settlement of certain of the Huguenot refugees as religious teachers among the people of this kingdom, the following rather humorous and characteristic anecdote, from the Belfast News Letter of the year 1788, may be not inappropriately introduced:--
"Some time since a Rev. French Huguenot, having been presented to a living in a remote part of Ireland, chose to officiate without the assistance of a curate; and, as his accent and the idioms of his language rendered him scarcely understood, his audience did not restrain their complaints, but brought them before the bishop, who appointed a day for hearing both parties in the presence of each other. The Huguenot, having received an account of their remonstrance to the bishop, took the first opportunity of inviting his discontented parishioners to 'deene with him on rost-beuf and ploom pudang,' which invitation tiny readily accepted, and hugely and heartily did they partake of the fare provided by their venerable pastor. On the day of hearing, the complainants set forth their allegations of his unintelligibility; to which the Huguenot replied:== 'My Lord, my parishioners say, when I read the Liturgy, and from the pulpit exhort them to amendment of life, that they cannot comprehend my meaning; but, my Lord, to put the matter to a test, I asked them to dine with me on rost-beuf and ploom-pudang: this they chose very well to understand, and really performed their parts to admiration; which is a demonstrative proof how groundless are their complaints.'"

[e] Chartrès. -- The descendants of this family exhibit as their crest the fleur de lis.

[f] Documents which go far to vindicate for the late Dr. Purdon, well known in Belfast as an eminent medical practitioner, the pedigree here referred to, are still in the possession of his family, but too long to admit of insertion here. The line is traceable through an immediate descendant of the royal line of France, the Viscount de Lavalle, who was among the Huguenot settlers in Portarlington, of the sixteenth century. Traditions also to the same effect still exist in various branches of the family. -- EDIT.

[g] Dolling was the younger brother of Count Dolling, of the village of Dolling, near Toulouse; but, having embraced Huguenot doctrines, he was obliged to fly to England about the time of the "massacre of Saint Bartholomew." The family chateau was of such magnitude and solidity, that it resisted the ravages of time until the commencement of the present century. The motto of the family, "Spero," was all that remained to the unfortunate emigrant.

[h] Dunville. -- The head of this family came from Normandy with William the Conqueror. Tradition states that the name is taken from a village in that country. The name of the first ancestor referred to above was Hugh; and his great grandson, Sir Roger Dunville, resided at Beyrsheath, in the County of Chester, A.D. 1281. His descendants continued there for many generations. William Dunville, Esq., of said county, left three sons, A.D. 1628, of whom Gilbert and John came to Ireland. Gilbert became Clerk of the Hanaper and M.P. for Kildare, and John became Clerk of the Common Pleas. W. Dunville, Esq., of Richmond, near Belfast, is the representative here of this family.

The above article is reproduced from the Ulster Journal of Archaeology, vol. 9, 1861.