A Narrow Sea

How did I miss this... Yet another great production from BBC Radio

A Narrow Sea, is a series of six minute episodes which explores the long history and relationship between Scotland and Ireland.

"The sea between the North East of Ireland and the South West of Scotland is a narrow sea. For centuries men and women have been crossing that narrow sea - known today as the North Channel and in the past as the Waters of Moyle - to settle, to visit, to trade, to raid."

Broadcast on BBC Radio Ulster weekdays at 6.54pm it is also available through BBC iPlayer or you subscribe through iTunes

Some of the recent episodes were:

• Warrior families from the Hebrides start to settle in Ulster.
• The MacDonnells of the Glens join forces with the Earls of Tyrone and Tír Conaill.
• Hugh Montgomery helps Conn O’Neill make a daring escape from Carrickfergus Castle.
• Sir Hugh Montgomery wastes no time in setting up his new home in Co. Down.
• Sir Randal MacDonnell invites Scots to settle in the Glens.
• The Flight of the Earls offers a new opportunity to King James.

Lisburn Writers from The Poets of Ireland, 1912. (part 4)

SOME EXTRACTS

FROM THE
RECORDS OF 
OLD LISBURN
AND THE
MANOR OF KILLULTAGH.

-- -- -- --
Edited by JAMES CARSON.
-- -- -- --

XV.

-- -- -- --

THE POETS OF IRELAND.

By D. J. O'DONOGHUE.

(Oxford University Press, 1912.)

(Continued.)

Twenty-seven names of writers of verse, of local interest, from "The Poets of Ireland," have been selected -- these will be extracted and given here with the relative notes from the volume on each writer. The notes will be given in full and verbatim. Where possible the notes from "The Poets of Ireland" will be supplemented and augmented by additional and new matter gathered from other sources.
-- -- -- -- -- --

Dobbs, Francis. (See notes, Article XIV.). -- On June 7th, 1800, he delivered a long address in the Irish House of Commons in which he predicted the Second Coming of the Messiah. "Memoirs of Francis Dobbs, Esq.," were published in 1800. " Millennium" -- a poem in four books -- was published by him, also "A History of Irish Affairs, 1779 to 1782 " The "History of Irish Affairs" refers to the Ulster Volunteer movement of 1780. From "Poems, by Francis Dobbs, Esq.," Dublin, 1788, the following extracts are taken:--

AN ELEGY

On the Death of the Rev. JOHN DOBBS,

Who died at Lisburn, in Ireland, at the age of 22 years, the Author being then in England.

Ah me! what means that shriek of woe?
     From yonder oak, why screams the owl?
Why do these tears unbidden flow?
     And whence this anguish of the soul?

Too well this mournful seal declares,
     Some valu'd friend, for ever fled:
Some darling of my earliest years,
     Doth now lie mingl'd with the dead.

Oh! 'tis too much! art thou no more --
     Am I for ever robb'd of thee?
Must I in vain thy loss deplore?
     And ne'er again, my brother see?

My brother! oh too cold the name!
     Poor are the ties bf blood alone:
To join our hearts, sweet friendship came,
     And virtue, my affection won.

How oft, with transport did I view,
     Thy worth, expanding, with thy days:
Thy virtues with thy stature grew,
     And honor nurtur'd, all thy ways.

Benevolence adorn'd thy heart --
     Philanthropy, thy soul inspir'd:
Sincere thou wert, and knew not art,
     For no disguise, you e'er requir'd.

Ah! why! thus distant did I roam,
     When sickness lurk'd within thy frame?
Why absent, from my native home,
     When this, last fatal arrow, came.

Why was I not at hand to pour,
     The balm of friendship round thy head?
To watch by thee, the midnight hour,
     And sooth the pangs disease had bred.

Why was I not at hand to pay,
     The last sad duties of a friend?
To wait upon thy honor'd clay,
     And all its solemn rites attend.

Methinks, that I should less have griev'd,
     Had I, thy dying hand possess'd --
Had I, one last farewell receiv'd,
     And with a fond adieu been bless'd.

For oh! a thousand thoughts arise,
     That in thy life time dormant lay:
My language rude -- my tart replies --
     Now glare, in all the blaze of day.

Hear this, ye living brothers, hear!
     'Tis not enough that we approve.
Each word -- each gesture -- still should bear.
     The stamp of friendship, and of love.

Ah cruel death! could'st thou not find,
     Some hateful object for thy aim?
Some wretch abhorr'd -- whose tainted mind,
     Disgrac'd his kindred, and his name.

Is all that's lovely, most thy choice?
     Do'st thou the vicious longest save?
Do'st thou in human woe rejoice?
     Doth goodness hast'n to the grave.

But whither doth my frenzy stray?
     How dare I chide th' Almighty's deed?
Oh pardon! pardon what I say,
     And to my sorrows lend thy aid?

Reason proclaims, that God is just --
     That virtue's his peculiar care --
I bend submissive in the dust,
     And from my mournful theme forbear.

An ELEGY on the death of Lieutenant WILLIAM DOBBS.

The circumstances attending his loss, were I peculiarly honorable, and melancholy. He happened to be at Belfast, when Paul Jones in the Ranger Privateer appeared off the mouth of the harbour. The Drake sloop of war, was then at anchor in the bay, and her only Lieutenant was buried a few days before. Lieutenant DOBBS, whose ship was at Portsmouth, in this situation, thought it his duty to go on board the Drake, and in the engagement that followed, was mortally wounded, but the Drake being taken, and carried to France, his death was not known for some time after. He had been privately married only three days, when he voluntarily undertook this danger.

At length, thy mournful fate's disclos'd --
     No more can fancy life bestow.
To hope -- is certainty oppos'd --
     And expectation's lost in woe.

Too well thy naval pride was known --
     Thy love of glory, too -- too plain --
To let me think, the day was gone,
     And thou in safety, did'st remain.

Yet still I hop'd -- still fondly thought,
     My much lov'd friend, again to see.
Oft in idea, wert thou brought,
     Again to bless, thy home, and me.

Oft did my fancy, lead thee forth,
     'Midst crowds, whoso breasts with friendship glow'd;
Where ev'ry tongue proclaim'd thy worth --
     And ev'ry heart, with joy o'erflow'd.

Oft have I view'd thy rising days --
     Thy certain prospects of reward.
Blest with a grateful country's praise,
     And honour'd with thy king's regard.

Oft have I painted the dear scene,
     When I, my Will's return should greet --
When after separation's pain,
     I should again my brother meet.

Alas! no thronging crowds shall now,
     With loud applause, declare thee here --
Thy friends with heavy sorrow bow,
     And shed, the unavailing tear.

No more shall flow, the sparkling wine,
     Thy heart-felt welcome to declare
No more the transport shall be mine,
     Thy lov'd society to share.

Why would'st thou risk, a life so dear --
     And court those dangers, thou could'st shun?
No loss of honour thoud'st to fear
     No duty left, by thee undone.

How could'st thou leave a weeping bride --
     The dearest object of thy choice?
Scarce had thy nuptial knot been tied,
     When thou wert caught by glory's voice.

Oh where was then the God of love!
     When thus invaded was his sway?
Why not at hand, his power to prove,
     And banish glory, far away.

But thou art gone -- and all is o'er --
     And all that's of thee's but a name.
No earthly bliss, hath heav'n in store,
     But thou hast sacrifie'd to fame.

Hear this ye lining sons of war,
     Like him, belov'd -- if such there be! --
Oh! let not spirit urge too far,
     But live from needless dangers, free,

Do not, like him, all fear disdain --
     All thoughts but glory thus despise.
Hear not like him, a bride in vain,
     But learn, your safety more to prize.

What tho' no praise mankind bestow,
     You he not in a wat'ry grave:
But live t' enjoy, what's worth below --
     Nor friends, nor wife, to sorrow leave.

Oh thou dear youth! that thou wert here!
     Thus undistinguish'd, living now.
That I could raise thee from thy bier!
     And tear such laurels from thy brow.

Forbear -- forbear -- his shade exclaims!
     To wish that deed thou mourn'st undone.
Rather rejoice, at what proclaims,
     Immortal fame, and bright renown.

It is not life, merely to live --
     For length of time, to breathe unknown
This, to the vilest, fate may give --
     By merit only glory's won.

Short is the life of oldest age --
     Where worthless years unnotic'd fly,
Their days are long, in wisdom's page,
     Who live belov'd -- lamented die.

The inhabitants of Lisburn, where Lieutenant DOBBS was born, have erected a very beautiful Monument to his memory, on which is the following Epitaph, written by counsellor JOHN DUNN.

This marble is sacred to the memory
Of Lieutenant William Dobbs,
A Naval Officer.
Who terminated his career of virtue,
By an illustrious display of valour.
On board one of his Majesty's sloops of war;
Where endeavouring to snatch Victory from Fortune,
In opposition to superior force,
He fell a self-devoted victim to his country.
His body rests in that element,
On which Great-Britain has long rode triumphant,
By the exertions of men like him.
His afflicted townsmen
By strewing laurels over his empty monument,
Derive honour to them-selves,
They can add nothing to his fame.

He was born at Lisburn, on the 22nd day of September, 1746, and died of his wounds on board the Drake, the 26th of April, 1778.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Jones, William Todd. (See notes, Article XIV.) -- In 1803, Dublin, was published the "Case of William Todd Jones, a prisoner in the County Gaol of Cork, upon a charge of High Treason." Dublin, 1792, "Letter to the Societies of United Irishmen of the Town of Belfast." Dublin, 1802, "Authentic Details of an Affair of Honour between William Todd Jones and Sir Richard Musgrave." Jones shot his man through the body.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Hancock, Thomas, M.D. (See notes, Article XIV.) -- In 1844, London, was published by him a lengthy treatise entitled "The Principles of Peace, exemplified in the Conduct of the Society of Friends in Ireland during the Rebellion of 1798, with some preliminary and concluding observations."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Cowan, Samuel Kennedy. -- POEMS. London, 1872; THE MURMUR OF THE SHELLS, etc. (short poems), Belfast, 1879; A BROKEN SILENCE AND SOME STRAY SONGS, Belfast and London, 1883; PLAY, a picture-book, verses by S. K. C, London, 1884; LAUREL LEAVES, Belfast, 1885; JEMIMA JENKINS AND OTHER JINGLES, Newry, 1892; ROSES AND RUE, Newry, 1894; VICTORIA THE GOOD, Newry, 1897.

Born at Lisburn, Co. Antrim, August 13, 1850. B.A., T.C.D., 1871; M.A., 1874. Is represented by two pieces in "Lyra Hibernica Sacra," at the time of whose publication he was living at Glenghana, Bangor, Co. Down. Contributed to "Kottabos," and is included in J. M. Dowry s "Book of Jousts." "Kottabos" was a celebrated literary magazine published, at intervals from Trinity College, Dublin.

-- -- --

Major Cowan's mother was a sister of Mrs. Barbour, wife of William Barbour, Hilden, Lisburn, who died in 1875. He married in 1881 Miss Reilly, a niece of the late John D. Barbour, Hilden. Shortly after his marriage he went to reside at Drenta, Dunmurry. Since 1898 he has been living in Belgium and Holland. In Anahilt Parish Church are some fine brasses to the Cowan family.

In 1872 Major Cowan wrote his first lyric, which was set to music by Alfred Scott Gatty. It was entitled "The Old Sweet Story," and proved a great success. Acting on the composer's advice, he adopted literature as a profession, and has since written many and various works. His poems, set to music, number over a hundred: among the most popular being "Anchored," "Out on the Deep," "The Haven Aloft," "The Sentry," "One Love Alone," "Weather Permitting," and "Quaker Cousins" (set by James L. Molloy), "Just Because (Pinsuti), "Old Love-Letters" (Sir Arthur Sullivan), "Soldier Jack" (Theo. Bonheur), "My Darling's Dream" (Virginia Gabriel),. "Farewell, Dear Erin," specially composed for Madame Titiens, and sung by her at Queenstown on her departure for America; "The Song of the Irish Eight" (written for the winners of the Elcho Shield), and in July last "The Charge of the Ulster Division at Thiepval," He has also written many poems for recitation, which have become popular, notably "Becalmed," "In the Old Canteen," "Round the Bivouac Fire," and "Lame Jim." "On the Battlefield" was specially written for and recited by the late J. F. Warden, Theatre Royal, Belfast. For him he also composed an Ode on the death of Barry Sullivan, which was recited by Mr. Warden at the burial of the great actor in Glasnevin Cemetery and moved many of those present to tears. For a number of years he has been writing largely for several fine art house, including Messrs. Raphael Tuck & Sons, Eyre & Spottiswoode, Birn Brothers, and Hilderheimer & Faulkner, his average output of booklets, Christmas cards, birthday, wedding, and other cards being about 500 annually. He contributed pieces to "The Girl's Own Paper," "The Theatre Magazine," "The Sunday at Home," "The Book of Helen's Tower," "Garry's Elocutionist," "Poets at Play," "What to Read at Entertainments," Padrig Gregory's collection of Irish poems, etc, etc. His volume of parodies on Tennyson, entitled "Laurel Leaves," has been favourably received. His last volume was published in 1913, and is entitled From Ulster's Hills." It was produced by M'Caw, Stevenson & Orr, Limited, Belfast, and has had a wide circulation.

As a specimen of his work three pieces from his pen may be quoted:

ON THE WAY.

There lies, unseen, before us
     A goal of Love and Glory,
          Whereto we journey day by day:
Singing, in solemn chorus,
     Life's never-ending story
          Of Rue and Roses on the way.

Whatever Time be weaving
     Out of the Rue and Roses --
          The bitter Rue, the Roses sweet --
Fare bravely on, believing
     A vien of gold reposes
          In every stone that wounds your feet!

Brook not Regrets, but brave them,
     And cherish Faith more dearly
          For every Hope whose light has fled:
'Tis by the tears that lave them
     Our eyes perceive more clearly
          The glory of the goal ahead!

Guiding -- consoling -- giving --
     Make every man your debtor,
          As you fare onward, day by day:
Life were not worth the living
     If someone were not better
          For having met you, on the way!

THE CROWN OF ENGLAND.

Coronation Day, 22nd June, 1911.

What is the Crown of England? Are its gems
Costlier than other Kingly diadems?
More precious stones -- or purer gold -- than they?
What is its wondrous worth, whereof the fame
Hath won, to-day, the whole vast world's acclaim?

What is the Crown of England? It is fraught
With vaster worth than wealth hath ever bought!
The gems, therein, are Loyalty and Love,
And Virtue is the virgin gold thereof!
Its precious stones are Light and Liberty,
And Truth and Justice are its jewelry!

This is its worth that wins the world's renown!
This is the wondrous wealth of England's Crown!
This is the Crown of England, that to-day
Girds our King's head, as with an aureole's ray!
This is the Crown of England, that doth now
Gleam? like a Glory, on our Monarch's brow,

And whispers: "Wake up, England, to the Light!
Lo! thro' mine Empire it is never Night:
Awake! the brave Sun -- somewhere -- never dies
Where the Old Flag of Merrie England flies!
Awake! Where Britain's Banner is unfurled,
Morning is always shining on the World!"

THE CHARGE OF THE ULSTER DIVISION AT THIEPVAL,

July 1st, 1916.

Was ever a Charge in the world like this?
Shall ever a son of Ulster miss
A fame that is wholly and solely his --
     A fame of sublimest splendour?
The lads who laughed in the face Death!
Above the roar of the cannon's breath
Singing their sacred shibboleth
     Of "The Boyne" and "No Surrender!"

Giant-strong, with the strength of Right --
Fired, by the soul of their sires, to fight --
What cared they for the foeman's might,
     Or how many cannons thundered?
Face to face with a hundred Huns,
Half-a-score of Ulster's sons
Silenced the thunder of the guns --
     Ten -- a match for a hundred!

Nought could stay them: nought them stop:
A thirst for blood to the last red drop,
Charging along on the topmost top
     Of the waves of Fire that bore them!
On, with a thirst that nought could quell,
Thro' a hurricane-shower of shot and shell,
To fight -- or fall, as their Fathers fell,
     In the doughty days before them!

Merrily -- every mother's son --
Laughing, as tho' they fought for fun,
With a song and a cheer they charged the Hun,
     Marring his Maker's image!
Chaffing, as tho' each shell might be
The whistle-call of a Referee!
And the bloodiest tussle in History
     Only -- a Football scrimmage!

Into the Hell of "No Man's Land,"
Thro' poisoned air, at their soul's command,
And a shrapnel-storm that none could stand,
     Charging, in wild derision.
Past Sentry Death, who, wondering, kept
His vigil there -- on, on they swept,
Where never a man could live -- except
     Ulster's Divine Division!

Flinging his fun in the face of Death --
Above the roar of the cannon's breath
Singing his sacred shibboleth
Of "The Boyne" and "No Surrender!"
Wherever a son of Ulster is,
Honour and Glory shall aye be his!
Was ever a fight in the world like this,
Or a charge of sublimer splendour?

-- -- -- -- -- --

Further Extracts from the "Poets of Ireland" next week.


(This article was originally published in the Lisburn Standard on 26 January 1917 as part of a series which ran in that paper each week through 1917. The text along with other extracts can be found on my website Eddies Extracts.)

Digging up Your Roots

Digging up Your Roots, BBC Radio Scotland's genealogy and family history programme has returned.

Now in its fifth series, the programme relates many inspirational stories and gives advice for those delving into their family history.

While focusing on Scottish genealogy and history it by necessity touches on many events and places worldwide referring to a variety of sources and much of the advice translates well to any genealogical search.

Episode 2 looks at myths and stories that have been passed down through generations and in episode 3 a panel of experts: genealogist Dr Bruce Durie from the University of Strathclyde, former Chairman of the Tay Valley Family History Society, John Irvine, and Senior Archivist at Angus Council Archives, Fiona Scharlau, answers questions posed by a live audience.

The programme is broadcast on Sundays at mid-day and is available on the  BBC iPlayer. It can also be downloaded through iTunes where all three of the episodes are still available.

Lisburn Writers from The Poets of Ireland, 1912. (part 3)

SOME EXTRACTS

FROM THE
RECORDS OF 
OLD LISBURN
AND THE
MANOR OF KILLULTAGH.

-- -- -- --
Edited by JAMES CARSON.
-- -- -- --

XIV.

-- -- -- --

THE POETS OF IRELAND.

By D. J. O'DONOGHUE.

(Oxford University Press, 1912.)

(Continued.)

Twenty-seven names of writers of verse, of local interest, from "The Poets of Ireland," have been selected -- these will be extracted and given here with the relative notes from the volume on each writer. The notes will be given in full and verbatim. Where possible the notes from "The Poets of Ireland" will be supplemented and augmented by additional and new matter gathered from other sources.
-- -- -- -- -- --

Creany, William. -- A NEW YEAR'S OFFERING, poems, Belfast, 1832. Lived at George's Island, near Ballinderry, and was perhaps a farmer.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Crossley, Thomas Hastings Henry. -- A frequent contributor of poems to "Kottabos," both translated and original, and composer of some hymn tunes. He published a translation of "The Fourth Book of the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius," 1882; Sch. T.C.D., 1865; B.A., 1869; M.A., 1871. Son of Major-General F. H. Crossley, and born at Glenburn, near Lisburn, Co. Antrim, on August 1, 1846. Educated at Royal School of Dungannon. Has been senior classical master at Trinity College (Glenalmond), and Professor of Greek at Belfast. Sixteen of his pieces are in "Dublin Translations," 1890. As a musician, he seems to be somewhat distinguished. He was a pupil of Berthold Tours.

-- -- --

T. H. H. Crossley, born 1846, is referred to in "Who's Who" for 1916, where there is a pretty full account of his life given. Probably a relative or descendant of John Crossley jun., referred to by Henry Bayly in his "Historical Account of Lisburn," 1834, as joint founder in 1810, with the Rev. Thomas Cupples, of the Male Free School, Dublin Road, Lisburn. Reference is also made to a legacy of £100 left by George Whitla to this school. Bayly, in verse, thus gives expression to his sentiments regarding the school and its founders --

Lisburn's free school! thy seeds of virtuous lore
Have shed their influence on a foreign shore;
So long as virtue is on earth endeared,
Thy founders' memory shall be revered;
Their patriotic acts shall win renown,
Long as philanthropy shall rule the town.

Crossley, thy worth is yet remembered well
And coming ages more thy praise shall tell.
In many a heart thy memory is enshrined,
Few like thyself on earth thou'st left behind.
When here below, 'twas thine to wipe the tear
Off sorrow's cheek -- the poor man's home to cheer --
Where lank-fac'd Poverty took her abode,
To raise Despair, and point to Zion's God.
Peace to thy shade -- the children thou hast nurst
In Learning's lap, ere thy bright spirit burst
Its bonds of clay, bless'd Crossley's honor'd name,
And live the trophies of thy glorious fame

And thou, too, Cupples, generous friend of youth
Long may you live the advocate of Truth;
Still in that path thy footsteps be inclined,
Guide of the opening and inquiring mind.
'Tis glorious work the voice of youth to raise,
A noble course was thine, to take the field
In Virtue's cause. Philanthropy thy shield
Wherever Vice with all her strain arose,
Thou wert enroll'd among her greatest foes. --
Amid the world's half-worshipp'd worthies thou
Hast won unfading laurels for thy brow.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Dobbs, Francis. -- MODERN MATRIMONY, a poem, to which is added THE DISAPPOINTMENT, an elegy, by the author of "The Irish Chief; or, The Patriot King," Dublin, 1773; THE PATRIOT KING; or, THE IRISH CHIEF, a tragedy in verse, London, 1774; POEMS, Dublin, 1788. Various other works on Irish history and politics. He was the younger son of the Rev. Richard Dobbs, and was born in Ireland, probably at Lisburn, Co. Antrim, on April 27, 1750; died, April 11, 1811. Was first an officer in the army, and finally a member of the Irish Parliament. There is a portrait and biography of him in "Walker's Hibernian Magazine" for June 1980.

-- -- --

Francis Dobbs was a son of the Rev. Richard Dobbs, incumbent of Lisburn Cathedral, 1749-1777. From the "Compendium of Irish Biography" it would appear that Francis represented Charlemont in the Irish Parliament from 1798 to the Union, which measure he consistently opposed and voted against. He represented a Northern Volunteer Corps, Southern Armagh, at the Dungannon Convention in 1782. Published a "Universal History" in several volumes and many tracts. Was obsessed with a belief in and exposition of the prophetical portions of the Scriptures. Frequently predicted the advent of the millennium, and proved to his own satisfaction that a Union between Great Britain and Ireland was specially forbidden by Scripture. He is said to have sunk into "unmerited neglect and difficulties " before his death.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Dubourdieu, Captain Francis. -- WILD FLOWERS FROM GERMANY, Belfast, 1850. Of the Royal Hanoverian Engineers. A native of the North of Ireland. Was a son of Rev. John Dubourdieu, the author of the "Statistical Survey of Antrim and Down."

-- -- -- -- -- --


Flecher, Henry McDonald. -- RHYMES AND RAVINGS BY A CO. ANTRIM LAD, Belfast, 1859; POEMS, SONGS, AND BALLADS, Belfast, 1866; ODIN'S LAST HOUR AND OTHER POEMS, Chicago, 1900. Born in Ballinderry, Co. Antrim, about 1840, and was first a schoolmaster at Moneyrea, Co. Down. Went to Belfast about 1866, and contributed a good deal to "The Northern Whig" and other journals, over the signature of "Coilus." Wrote one of the Burns' Centenary Poems published by Finlay and Anderson in 1859, his name being given as Henry Fletcher (and his address as Dundonald, Co. Down), and won the second prize. He became manager of a mill in Belfast in the sixties, and in the spring of 1871 he emigrated to Texas, U.S.A., where he still lives (1909). In Connolly's "Household Library of Ireland's Poets" he is included as "H. M. Fletcher."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Hancock, Thomas, M.D. -- ELEGY, supposed to be written on the field of battle, 1818; THE LAW OF MERCY, a poetical essay on the punishment of death, with illustrative notes, 1819 (both poems were anonymous.) Born at Lisburn, Co. Antrim, in 1783, of Quaker parentage. He was educated in England, and graduated M'.D. at Edinburgh in 1809. Died at Lisburn on April 6, 1849, aged 66. Wrote several works on the Friends, and medical books.

-- -- --

Dr. Hancock was a member of the Society of Friends, lived at Stannus Place, Lisburn, and was buried in the Friends' Burying-ground Railway Street. It is probable he was related to John Hancock, who was the original founder of the Friends' School, Prospect Hill. This School was opened in 1774 as a Boarding School for the children of Friends. Its first head master was John Gough, who published in four volumes his "History of the People called Quakers." He also compiled an Arithmetic which for many years was a standard work on the subject in Irish schools.

In the "Northern Whig," Saturday, May 19th, 1877, there is to be found an interesting account of the foundation and progress of the Ulster Provincial School to that date. Joseph Radley, the head master, in an address thus refers to Dr. Hancock: "In the year 1765 John Hancock, of Lisburn, an eminent and enlightened Friend, the ancestor of Dr. Hancock, who wrote the famous treatise on the exemplification of the peace principles held by Friends during the Rebellion of 1798. bequeathed the sum of £1,000 for the purpose of purchasing land and founding a school."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Henderson, James. -- A poet of this name, residing at Hillsborough, County Down, contributed numerous poems, signed by his initials, to " Walker's Hibernian Magazine," from 1779 onwards.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Johnston, John Moore. -- HETEROGENEA, OR MEDLEY, etc., in prose and verse, Downpatrick, 1803. A farmer, church-warden, and land-agent to Lord Moira and others, and born at Portmore Park, Co. Antrim, on December 14th, 1747. The book is very curious, and contains a lot of information about parishes and baronies in Co. Down and Co. Antrim, with lists of centenarians. There is also a long biographical account of Lord Moira, father of the eminent soldier who became Marquis of Hastings.

-- -- --

His life and work have already been reviewed in these "Extracts."

-- -- -- -- -- --


Jones, William Todd. -- This well known pamphleteer of the '98 period was also a writer of verse. He is included in the collection of poems (1790), edited by Joshua Elkins. He was born in Lisburn in or about 1759, and died May 10, 1818.

-- -- --

William Todd Jones and Colonel Sharman, in the famous struggle for electoral independence in 1783, were returned to the Irish Parliament as the popular members for Lisburn. Jones had his portrait painted by a Robert Hunter and engraved by Alexander M'Donald, a Dublin engraver.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Keightley, Sir Samuel Robert, LL.D. -- A KING'S DAUGHTER, and other poems, Belfast, 1878; second edition, 1879. Born at Belfast in 1859, and educated at Academy and Queen's College of that city where he graduated. He wrote the above poems while a student, and is since better known by his various historical novels.

-- -- --

Barrister and novelist. He received his Knighthood in 1912. Married -- issue two sons and two daughters. Contested three Parliamentary elections unsuccessfully -- South Antrim in 1903, as Independent Unionist; South Derry twice in the Liberal interest. Resides at The Fort, Lisburn. Has written a large number of interesting and entertaining novels, amongst them may be mentioned -- The Crimson Sign, The Cavaliers, The Last Recruit of Clare's, The Silver Cross, Heronford, The Pikemen. A Beggar on Horseback, A Man of Millions.

-- -- -- -- -- --

McCall, Rev. William. -- Published a volume of poems in Belfast many years ago, but I have been unable to obtain the title or date of the work. He was the son of Robert McCall, of Lisburn, Co. Antrim, and was born there on April 17, 1821, and graduated B.A., T.C.D. He wrote for various Ulster papers over the signature of "Lamh Dhearg." He became finally rector of St. Mary Axe, and of St. George's, Tufnell Park, London, and died on June 80, 1881.

-- -- --

He was the son of Robert McCall, Lisburn, by his second wife, Eliza Sweeny, a descendant of a French refugee named Peter Goyer. Mr. McCall's sister, Eliza, married Redmond Jefferson, of Lisburn, in 1841. Hugh McCall, writer of a number, of valuable books dealing with the North of Ireland, was the Rev. Wm. M'Call's half-brother.

-- -- -- -- -- --

McCall, Hugh. -- Born in Lisburn, 1805, Died in the town of his nativity, 1897. His name does not appear in "The Poets of Ireland," probably because his poems were never collected and published in book form. He is best, known for his prose works, which are a valuable contribution to the history of Ulster, and will be referred to later, in detail in these "Extracts."

The following song was contributed by Mr. McCall to the collection of prose and verse, entitled "The Republic of Letters," published by Blackie and Son in four volumes in 1841. It is given as a specimen of the verse he was contributing to various journals:--

ROVER'S GLEE.

Hurrah! -- my bark -- my ocean bird --
     The Sun's broad rays are flung
Across the cliff's majestic brow,
     Where eagles oft have swung --

Spread thy light pinions to the gale,
     Dash thro' the foaming spray
That sparkles with a thousand hues
     My bark! away, away!

Hurrah! -- the monarch of the wild
     May climb the mountain side,
And gaze upon his forest-home
     With freedom's conscious pride!

But liberty upon the waste
     Of waters seems more free;
Strike, strike the deep-toned harp again
     Thou bright and glorious sea!

Hurrah! -- again with joy I hear
     The dashing of the wave, --
Sound that is welcome to my ear
     As victory to the brave.

Oh! When my life's last pulse is gone,
     I ask no more than this --
My requiem be the light sea-breeze!
     My grave, the blue abyss!

R. A. McCall, K.C., a son of Hugh McCall, is a successful barrister living in London. Valuable articles from his pen have appeared from time to time in the Belfast and local Press dealing with the Huguenot Settlement of Ulster.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Further Notes next week from "The Poets of Ireland."


(This article was originally published in the Lisburn Standard on 19 January 1917 as part of a series which ran in that paper each week through 1917. The text along with other extracts can be found on my website Eddies Extracts.)

Lisburn Writers from The Poets of Ireland, 1912. (part 2)

SOME EXTRACTS

FROM THE
RECORDS OF 
OLD LISBURN
AND THE
MANOR OF KILLULTAGH.

-- -- -- --
Edited by JAMES CARSON.
-- -- -- --

XIII.

-- -- -- --

THE POETS OF IRELAND.

By D. J. O'DONOGHUE.

(Oxford University Press, 1912.)

(Continued.)

Twenty-seven names of writers of verse, of local interest, from "The Poets of Ireland," have been selected -- these will be extracted and given here with the relative notes from the volume on each writer. The notes will be given in full and verbatim. Where possible the notes from "The Poets of Ireland" will be supplemented and augmented by additional and new matter gathered from other sources.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Bayly, Henry -- TOPOGRAPHICAL & HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF LISBURN, with a Poem on the same, etc. Belfast, 1834. A Lisburn lawyer.

-- -- --


Henry Bayly published in 1834 A Topographical and Historical Account of Lisburn, also a Poem on same, comprehending The Maze--A Satire, to which is added some miscellaneous pieces, etc. The volume, which runs to 160 pages, is dedicated to the Very Rev. Jas. Stannus, Dean of Ross, and to the Representative, Seneschal, Burgesses, and Citizens of Lisburn.

The volume contains a list of the names of subscribers. Fifty-seven pages are devoted to the Historical Account of Lisburn, and some eighty pages occupied with verse. The author was a clerk in a lawyer's office in Lisburn. The book will be fully reviewed later. Printers -- Thomas Mairs, Joy's Entry, Belfast.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Bultitaft, William Lyon. -- Not included in "The Poets of Ireland." A small volume of his collected poems was published in 1901 -- J. Thompson & Co., Ltd., 99 Donegall Street, Belfast -- entitled "Songs on the March." A note to the volume states -- "These verses are printed as they were left by the author at his his death. If he had lived they would no doubt have received further revision before publication."

-- -- --

Born in Chatteris, Cambridgeshire, in 1870. Died at Belfast in 1900. Soon after his birth his parents came to reside at Kircassock, near Lurgan; later they went to Laurel Vale, Tandragee, and again removed to Lisnoe, Ravarnette, Lisburn. At Lisnoe W. L. Bultitaft spent the greater part of his short life. He was related to the Sinton family of Ravarnette. The little volume contains twenty-five pieces, many of them showing real evidence of ability and originality. Two may be quoted as fair specimens of his work.

ROSE MADNESS.

What is the charm that dwells among the roses
     The wild sweet blossoms of the month of June?
What is the spell that this frail flower encloses,
     That binds me late or soon?

The very perfume with its sweet insistence
     Holds some unknown relation to my will --
Some subtle influence of a pre-existence
     That clings about me still.

Some mind-controlling power that's more than mortal --
     Strange impression from the silent Past --
Some hidden hand, outstretched beyond the portal,
     To touch my hand at last.

O, strange bewilderment! O, curious power!
     The wild, weird magic of the wild sweet rose!
The spirit-madness latent in the flower
     Into my spirit flows.
      
A QUESTION.

Oh, is it loss or gain, our competence of sorrow?
     Are we fitted any better for the way we have to tread?
From a present day of trouble shall we reap a happy morrow?
     Will the future recompense us when our dreary past is dead?

Though we all may ask the question, there is none of us can answer:
     We must toil beneath the burden till the end shall come at last:
Yet we trust, though sore misdoubting, as the darkness groweth denser,
     That the Only One who knoweth will reward us for the past.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Brown, Rev. W. Wallace. -- CHRIST THE LIFE OF LIVES, with other poems, Belfast, 1887. Preface is addressed from Brookhill, near Lisburn.

-- -- --

William Wallace Brown was born at Brookhill, Lisburn, in 1849, and died unmarried in the same place in 1891. He went out out as a missionary with the Presbyterian Church in 1874, returned home in 1882, and then visited Australia on account of his health, where he remained was a son of the Rev. J. S. Brown, who was Minister of Magheragall Presbyterian Church for almost half a century. Some members of the family still reside at Brookhill. His book of poems, published in 1887, runs to 72 pages. There are 13 pieces, all chiefly of a religious nature. One piece occupies 40 pages of the volume, and is a life of Christ in verse.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Campbell, Thomas. -- LAYS FROM LISNAGARVEY. Belfast, 1884. Was a millworker, born at Lisnagarvey, Lisburn. Wrote to local Press over signature of "Pat M'Blashmole."

-- -- --

Thomas Campbell was born in Sandy Row, Belfast, 15th June, 1855. His family removed to Derriaghy, Lisburn, in 1857, where they remained some five years, thence to the Low Road, Lisburn, in 1862, where he has resided since. His educational training, which was necessarily limited, was given in the first instance by Mr. John Richardson, Tullynacross National School, County Down, and later by Mr. Samuel Hull, Market Square Presbyterian Church School, Lisburn. At the early age of eleven years he entered the employment of William Barbour & Sons, Hilden, and has in this year (1916) completed a half century's honourable work in connection with the Hilden firm. He was one of the founders of the Lisburn Co-operative Society, Limited; was its first treasurer, and was president of the society from 1892 to 1899. He served on the committee for twenty-five years, and was closely identified with the early struggle of the Society, and during the period of its early prosperity. Mr. Campbell was initiated into the mysteries of Free Masonry in St. Patrick's Lodge, No. 602, Derriaghy, in 1877, and has ever since taken the keenest interest in the Masonic Order. He still maintains his connection with his mother lodge, and is in addition in fellowship with numerous other lodges in the neighbourhood. He is also closely associated with the Orange Institution. In 1884 he issued a book of poems entitled "Lays from Lisnagarvey," printed by John Reid & Co., 20 Linenhall Street, Belfast. The volume contains some 66 pieces. In the introductory note to the book he states -- "They were composed by a mill operative in his leisure moments, who from boyhood has been nurtured among the whirl of belts and the din or machinery -- no enviable situation for the cultivation of the Muses." Between 1884 and 1900 a large number of poems from his pen appeared in the "Lisburn Standard," but have never been collected into book form, and it is to be feared are now irretrievably lost. Many of his poems dealt with Masonic subjects. A song, entitled "Derriaghy," published about 1898, may be quoted.

DERRIAGHY.

There's a place called Derriaghy,
     And I'd have you all to know,
Whene'er the stated time comes round,
     'Tis there I love to go
Where a lodge of right good fellows meet,
     Who wear the red and lue [sic];
And friendship sits enshrined within
     Hearts that are kind and true.

               Chorus --
          Of all Masonic Lodges,
               'Tis the best one that I know.
          It is there the finer feelings
               Of our natures ebb and flow.
          You may talk of other lodges.
               And may think they're up to Dick;
          But the lodge in Derriaghy.
               Beats the whole rick-ma-tick.

Our Lodge is called St. Patrick's --
     'Tis a highly honoured name,
That on the roll of Masonry
     Is not unknown to fame.
The day-star of our Order there
     Is shining very clear,
And the genius of Masonry
     Is hovering very near.

The mysteries the Masters taught
     In ages long ago.
Which none but proved craftsmen
     Of our Order e'er may know,
Are seen in all their splendour,
     In their wisdom, strength, and might,
While beauty sheds a lustre
     Like a halo of delight.

There you may see the meaning plain
     Of Faith, and Hope, and Love --
Masonic lights that brilliant shine
     Like stars from out above;
Strong Faith in the great Architect,
     And Hope in power to save,
And Love that lives for brothers true
     For aye, beyond the grave.

Now there's a lodge Eternal,
     Far beyond this world of woe,
To which by truest merits' claim
     We hope at last to go:
And there, beneath the Master's eye,
     As in the days of yore,
It shall be a Derriaghy
     And St. Patrick's evermore.

From the "Lays of Lisnagarvey" the following may be given as specimens of his work

MAGHRALEAVE.

Sweet Maghraleave's green hills and vales,
     Bring fondest recollections, O;
Of many whispered tender tales
     That charmed my young affections, O.
There blue-bells grow, white hawthorns blow,
     And Spring's first pale primroses, O.
Calm peace and love, those joys that rove,
     In that sweet spot reposes, O.

'Tis there the snowdrop early rears
     Above the snow its blossom, O;
The tender flower is not more pure
     Than the heart in Bessie's bosom, O.
Her witching smile that charmed the while,
     Her teeth like pearls disclosing, O;
Her every charm did my heart warm
     At many a daylight's closing, O.

Around that place fond memory strays,
     Recalls each bush and bramble, O;
A charm still lingers there always,
     Where Bess and I did ramble, O.
Each sweet retreat and verdant seat.
     Where oft we held our meeting, O;
Each bosky dale, and leafy vale,
     Reminds how time is fleeting, O.

Since then we've wandered side by side,
     With hand in hand together, O;
Contented down life's stream to glide,
     'Mid fair and cloudy weather, O.
But memory still, through good or ill,
     Wherever time shall find us, O;
Of many an eve in Maghraleave,
     Will evermore remind us, O.

PADDY'S WOOING.

Young Kathleen was bonnie, young Kath was fair,
And bright were the braids of her brown silken hair,
That around Paddy's heart wove a magical chain,
Made him sigh when away to be with her again.

Kathleen, though bewitching, inclined Pat to tease,
And Patrick, so loving, tried Katty to please;
The maid was so shifty, enchanting, and coy,
That Pat found much torment mixed up with his joy.

One evening, when seated in a sweet, verdant lane,
O'er head birdies twittered an am'rous refrain;
'Mid sweet hawthorn blossoms that I scented the vale,
Young Pat mustered courage to tell her his tale.

First his face reddened up, then his hair gave a tweak,
Something stuck in his throat e'er a word he could speak;
Then in desperation he whispered, "Ah, Kate,
"Shure I mended the rail where the cow broke the gate."

Her bright eyes were sparkling, she saw something wrong,
Then murmured, "Dear Pat, did the job keep you long?"
"An hour," next he muttered. She said, with a laugh,
"Shure any gossoon could have done it in half."

Pat's confusion increased, his face was a sight,
As over it quickly the red chased the white;
Then, growing quite calm, whispered, "Katty, my dear,
"How happy the birds all around us appear.

"How blythely they're singing this bright summer day!
"Ah, Kate! could not we be as happy as they?"
She knew his heart spoke, so earnest his tone,
And the time had arrived her heart's love to own.

Then timidly, bashfully, she hung down her head,
And "We could be as happy," she murmuring said;
Pat's heart gave a flutter, his arm clasped her waist,
Then her head in submission sank down on his breast.

His emotions, his feelings, what pen could express,
As he asked her a question to which she said "Yes."
The birds sang more sweetly, the sun brighter shone,
As in rapture he pressed to his bosom his own.

The hawthorn still blossoms, the grass is still green,
And down in that loaning fond lovers are seen;
Some hopes are deceived -- others, joy gilds their life,
And live afterwards happy, like Pat and his wife.

More "Extracts" from "The Poets of Ireland" next week.


(This article was originally published in the Lisburn Standard on 12 January 1917 as part of a series which ran in that paper each week through 1917. The text along with other extracts can be found on my website Eddies Extracts.)

Lisburn Writers from The Poets of Ireland, 1912.

SOME EXTRACTS

FROM THE

RECORDS OF 

OLD LISBURN

AND THE

MANOR OF KILLULTAGH.

-- -- -- --

Edited by JAMES CARSON.

-- -- -- --

XII.

-- -- -- --

THE POETS OF IRELAND.

By D. J. O'DONOGHUE.

(Oxford University Press, 1912.)

This valuable and interesting work contains 504 pages and over 4,000 references to Irish writers of English verse. Generally speaking, those writers who were only partly or remotely of Irish blood are not included. English writers who have made their homes in Ireland, and identified  themselves with it, have been considered admissable. Mr. O'Donoghue is librarian, University College, Dublin, and has also written biographies of several distinguished Irishmen. A much smaller and less perfect edition of this work was published about 1892. Twenty-seven names, of writers of verse, of local interest are selected -- these will be extracted and given here with the relative notes from the volume on each writer. The notes will be given in full and verbatim. Where possible the notes from "The Poets of Ireland" will be supplemented and augmented by additional and new matter gathered from other sources.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Burdy, Rev. Samuel. -- ARDGLASS; or, THE RUINED CASTLES; also THE TRANSFORMATION, with other poems, Dublin, 1802."

Author of a "Life of Rev. Philip Skelton, Derriaghy, Lisburn" (1792), "A Tour of a few Days to Londonderry and the Giant's Causeway " (Dublin, 1807), and a "History of Ireland" (1817). Born at Dromore, Co. Down, probably in 1754; of Huguenot descent. Sch. T.C.D., 1780; B.A., 1781. Died March 7, 1820, and is buried at Kilclief, Co. Down. Was never married.

-- -- --

The Life of Skelton was published in 1792, and reprinted, 225 pages, in 1914 by the Oxford University Press. In the introduction to the 1914 edition there is a short sketch of Burdy's life, by Norman Moore. It is stated that Burdy was descended from a Huguenot soldier who was wounded at the battle of the Boyne. In a poem written by Burdy on the death of a friend, James Agnew, linen-draper, Moss-vale, Lisburn, who died in 1798, he : thus refers to their common ancestor:--

"Our common grandsire left fair Gallia's land,
Forc'd from her plains by Lewis' stern command,
Join'd great Prince William on Batavia's shore,
At Boyne's fam'd waters heard the cannon roar."

Bishop Reeves expressed the opinion that Burdy was probably an altered form of Dubourdieu. He entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a sizar in 1777, won a scholarship in 1780, and took his B.A.  degree in 1781. In 1783 he was appointed Curate at Ardglass. Kilclief, a perpetual curacy in the County Down, was the only further ecclesiastical preferment he attained.

The Life of Skelton deals with daily life and not with political events. It gives an interesting view of the Ulster of that period. One gathers that Burdy was a disappointed man, and dissatisfied with the recognition that his abilities received.

He writes --

"My service treated, and my studious pain,
With cold neglect or insolent disdain,
No friend to assist me, and no patron smile,
No gift to sooth my literary toil."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Skelton, Rev. Philip, D.D. -- An eminent theologian, born at Derriaghy, near Lisburn, Co. Antrim, in February, 1706 (or 1707). Sch. T.C.D., 1726; B.A., 1728, He wrote some excellent hymns, which will be found in his collected works. They are still included in representative collections, two of them being in "Lyra Hibernica Sacra." There are sixteen lengthy poems of a pious nature at the end of volume 6 of his collected works. His life was written by the Rev. Samuel Burdy. He wrote some valuable and learned works, and died in Dublin on May 4, 1787, and was buried in St. Peter's Churchyard in that city.

-- -- --

Richard Skelton, Philip's father, and his family resided in a house in the townland of Aghalislone, Parish of Derriaghy. A short mile from Derriaghy Village, going in the direction of Pond Park, there is a road branches off to the right and connects, barely a mile distant, with the Ivy Hill and Castlerobin Road. About half-way, on this short connecting road, and on the right-hand side of the road, there is a low thatched cottage standing back a short distance from the road. This cottage, it is said, was the home of the Skeltons, and that it was here that Philip Skelton was born. Around this locality his youthful memories centred, and in the long years of his later life to this homely spot his heart ever turned with warm affection. The house has been in the occupation of the M'Comb and Crone families, who intermarried, for over 120 years; it is now known as Crone Cottage, the present occupier being Mr. Marcus M'Comb. The house, from its construction and appearance, is evidently of considerable antiquity, and it is quite possible that it was the original building occupied by the Skelton family. It is, however, beyond doubt that, whether Crone Cottage was the original building or not, it is quite close to the original site. Some authorities say that the old homestead was about twenty yards further on in the direction of Derriaghy, on the same side of the road, where the old foundations of a house are still to be seen.

From the "Compendium of Irish Biography," by Alfred Webb, 1878, it may be gathered that the Rev. Philip Skelton acted as Curate near Newtownbutler in 1729, where he also taught the children of the Rector, Dr. Samuel Madden; Curate in Monaghan, 1732, at a salary of £40 a year; Vicar of Pettigo, 1750. In 1759 he was removed to the Parish of Devenish, near Enniskillen, worth £300 a year, and in 1766 made his last change to Fintona, Co. Tyrone. He was the author of numerous sermons which had a large circulation, and of "Deism Revealed," an important work published in London, 1749. He had previously published "Some Proposals for the Revival of Christianity," which was attributed to Swift. His sermons were warmly commended by Wesley, and were as eagerly listened to by London audiences as by his own simple parishioners. He was bitterly opposed to all dissent, yet was the friend of Wesley. In character he was simple and chivalrously honest. In manners outspoken, if not uncouth and rude, and careless in his dress. He was of large, gigantic size, and an adept at cudgels and the use of his fists, and was not backward in the use of either when he considered the occasion required. His whole life was one of self-devotion. He lived on the sparest diet. Even when his stipend was but £40 a year he devoted a portion to the relief of the suffering poor. He was extremely fond of flowers, and would send twenty miles for a curious specimen. He was never married.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

The Life of Philip Skelton.

By SAMUEL BURDY, B.A.

-- -- --

EXTRACTS.

Philip Skelton was born in the Parish of Derriaghy, near Lisburn, in February, 1706-7. His father, Richard Skelton, was a decent honest countryman, who held under Lord Conway a large farm at a cheap rent. The father of Richard was the first of the family that came over from England to reside in Ireland.

Richard had served an apprenticeship to a gunsmith, and was employed at that trade when he went to Kilwarlin, and married there Arabella Cathcart, by whom he got the farm in Derriaghy already mentioned. Having removed, on his marriage, to that parish, he wrought diligently at his trade, until the whole country was put in confusion by the war between William and James. He was then carried off by King James, and compelled to work for his army. His wife, who had two children, and was with child of the third, having obtained a pass from the King, retired with her family to lsland-Magee, a small peninsula near Carrickfergus; where she was delivered of her third child, and experienced, during her illness, tender usage from the poor inhabitants, who sat up with the stranger to-night." Nor was she ungrateful to them for their kindness. She entrusted her house and farm to a Roman Catholic family called Hamill, who, acting with singular honesty on the occasion, sent her, in abundance, butter, flour, and every other necessary of life, the produce of her farm, to her place of retirement. With a large share of what she received she rewarded the people of Island-Magee for their services. On her return she found everything belonging to her carefully preserved by the Catholics, who took as much care of her property as if it had been their own. Such instances of fidelity were but rare in those turbulent times, when bigotry too often destroyed the force of moral obligations. Her children, on that account, had always a regard for those of the Catholic persuasion. I heard Mr. Skelton often say, that the poor original Irish were naturally faithful, humane, and averse to blood.

In the latter part of his life he quitted the gunsmith trade, which could not be profitable in a country place, and kept a little tan-yard. So that Mr. Skelton used to call himself the son of a tanner. At his father's, he said, they always got beef on a Sunday, but not regularly during the rest of the week. The farm he had was indeed sufficient of itself to afford a competent support to himself and family; yet it was necessary he should be frugal and industrious, for he had six sons and four daughters. Three of his sons were educated for clergymen of the established church, of which he was a member; Philip, who was the youngest; John, who was schoolmaster at Dundalk; and Thomas, who had the small living of Newry.

Philip, when he was about, ten years old, was sent to Lisburn. Latin school, which was then kept by the Rev. Mr. Clarke, a man of eminence in his profession; who, having afterwards left that place on account of a dispute with Lord Conway, obtained the school of Drogheda, where he lived to an advanced age. His spirited resistance thus helped to get him promotion in the world, which too frequently is the effect of tame submission to superiors. However, he did not leave Lisburn until after Mr. Skelton had completed the course of his school studies. His father, though he lived within two miles of the town, placed him at lodgings there, that he might enjoy every opportunity of improvement. Sensible of its importance, he did not spare expense to give his children education. On Sunday evening he always went to his father's and returned to Lisburn on Monday morning.

At first he did not relish his grammar, which seemed dry and disagreeable, and therefore he would not confine himself to it. The master complained of this to his father, who used the following method to cure him of his idleness. He raised him one Monday morning early out of his. bed, and having put a pair of coarse brogues on his feet, ordered him to go out immediately to the fields to work with the common labourers. This command he willingly obeyed, supposing it would be less laborious to toil there, than to fatigue his head with hard study. His father made him carry stones on a hand-barrow, and submit to the severest drudgery; not allowing him to come home to his breakfast, but keeping him fasting long beyond the usual time, and then sending it to him of the coarsest food to take in the open fields. When he returned from his day's work, he treated him as he did the lowest servant. He would not suffer him to keep company with the rest of his children, but bade him go  to his companions the servants, and stay with them. Broken down at last by this hard usage he began to relent, and burst into tears. His father then said to him, "Sirrah, I'll make this proposal to you: Whether do you choose to toil and drudge all your life, as you have these few days past, living on coarse food, clad in frize clothes, and with brogues on your feet, or to apply to your books, and eat, and drink, and be dressed like your brothers here?" pointing to his brothers, who, at vacation, had just then come down from the university, decked out in Dublin finery. Poor Philip, whose bones ached with, the hand-barrow, said, "he would readily go to school, and be attentive to his studies." Accordingly he did so, and continued studious ever after.

The success of this project proved the sagacity of his father, who was remarkable for his good sense over the whole Parish of Derriaghy. The gentlemen of fortune in that place had such a high opinion of him, that they used to invite him frequently to their houses, for the sake of his conversation. A Bishop Smyth in particular, who lived there, showed him every mark of attention, and his Lordship's daughters were pleased to make a companion of his oldest daughter, a young woman of sense and accomplishments superior to her opportunities. His father had also some knowledge of architecture, being employed to superintend the building of the present church of Derriaghy. His circumstances, by his care and industry, were daily improving, when death carried him off from his disconsolate family in the fiftieth year of his age; while he was engaged in building a dwelling-house, and making a new tan-yard, neither of which were ever after completed. Such are the hopes of man! A few hours before he died, he called to him his ten children to give them a charge. Philip, who had been then but half a year at the Latin school, he desired to study physic, and learn to cure the disease that was killing his father. He obeyed, as I will shew, his dying command, but fixed on divinity for his profession, to which he believed himself called by a voice more than human. Thus did he lose in his tender years an excellent father, a man of admirable sense, a strict observer of religion, and a careful instructor of his children. He retained ever after a grateful remembrance of his worth. In his "Senilia" he calls him "his wise and good father." He used to say with Horace, that if he were appointed to choose a father out of all the men in the world, he would take the one he had.

His mother was left with ten children. She had indeed the benefit of the family farm, but land at that time wee comparatively of little value, and a great part of hers was rough and mountainous. Of consequence, her means of support for such a family were not over abundant; but she made amends for this by her care and prudence in managing her affairs. Her son Philip, who continued still to go to the Latin school, lived, as it seemed convenient, partly at her house and partly at lodgings in Lisburn. The sharp medicine which his father administered to him, having cured him effectually of his idleness, he was ever after, as I said before, extremely attentive to his studies. He that gains the prize of literature has passed through a previous course of discipline while a boy. His parts, at first, wore not remarkably quick or retentive, but his diligence enabled him to overcome every obstacle. When he was at a loss for candles to read at night, which frequently happened, he made use of furze, which he gathered for the purpose, and then throwing them piece by piece upon the fire, read by the glimmering light. Such was the expedient suggested by an ardent desire for learning. He used to tell us, that when he was at school, he and some of his school-fellows, who were also remarkably studious, often meet together in the fields and examined each other most strictly for halfpence. He that missed the answer of the question proposed was forced to give a halfpenny to the boy who examined him; which made them, as he remarked, prepare themselves with great care, for halfpence were then very scarce.

The following incident of his life, while he was at the Latin school, cannot, I think, be unworthy the attention of the curious. Straying one day through the fields near Lisburn, he happened to shout out on the top of a hill there, and found that the echo repeated the same words successively in a still lower tone. He used afterwards to amuse himself often with speaking loud at this place. One morning he was repeating there the first line of Virgil, when the usher of the school, a Scotchman, of a sour temper, very fat, and remarkable for chewing tobacco, walking near the place, and hearing the echo, imagined he was calling to him in a jeering tone of voice, "fat chops, tobacco box." The Scotchman was so enraged at this supposed insult, that he insisted on Skelton's being turned out of school; if not he would leave it himself. Skelton told the master the story of the echo, and appealed to his school-fellows for the truth of what he said. But the usher would not be pacified, and at last, as a great favour, was content with his being whipped.

This odd sort of echo near Lisburn is mentioned in his Latin treatise on sounds by Dr. Hales, late of Trinity College, one of the most worthy clergymen of Ireland, whose humility can be only equalled by his learning. For he had none of that stiff dignity and supercilious importance that too often distinguish academic authority. The whole account of the echo, conveyed in Mr. Skelton's own words, is inserted in a Latin note at the end of the volume; but, on examination, I find it is of too philosophic a nature to be introduced into a work of this kind. I cannot now recollect, any other incident of his life, white at school, worth relating. It appears indeed that he was not upon that, occasion treated with over indulgence by the master, who, without, any fault of his own, whipped him just to please a peevish Scotch usher. To the sons of poor or middling men it would, I think, be a disadvantage to meet with too gentle usage from their preceptors. It is fit they should, from the beginning, be trained to difficulties, with which they may be forced to struggle all their days.

While he was at college, he went once to Donnybrook fair, and heard it proclaimed there that a hat was set up as a prize for the best cudgel-player. The two cudgels with basket-hilts lying for public inspection, Skelton, like a second Dares, stepped forward, took up one of them, made a bow to the girls, and challenged an antagonist to oppose him. On this a confident young fellow came up and accepted the challenge. Immediately a ring was formed, and the two heroes began. They fought for a while on equal terms, warding off the blows by their skill in the science of defence. But at last his antagonist was off his guard, and Skelton taking the advantage, hit him some smart strokes about the head, and made him throw down the cudgel and own he was conquered. He thus gained the victory, and won the hat. He then took the hat in his hand, showed it to the gaping crowd, made a bow to the girls, and told them, "he fought just to please them, but would not keep the hat, that they might have more amusement"; and then bowed again and retired. A hero in romance could not have been more complaisant to the fair sex.

The following trick of his, which has been since practised by some others, is not unsuitable to the character of a young man in the college. He and twelve more dining at an inn near Dublin, when they reckoning was to be paid, they discovered there was no money in the company. Skelton then invented the scheme of blindfolding the waiter, that the first he might catch should pay the reckoning, and thus they all escaped. However, he took care to have the landlord paid for his dinner.

During the college long-vacations he amused himself with various exercises at Derriaghy, such as throwing the stone, the sledge and the like. But long-bullets was his favourite exercise, in which there was no match for him in the whole parish. Long-bullets is an exercise wherein a metal ball of two or three pound weight is thrown along a public road. He whose ball, in an equal number of throws, goes furthest past a fixed point is victorious

The summer, in which he commenced Bachelor of Arts, he spent, as usual, in the Parish of Derriaghy, where he met with a terrible accident, which he considered ever after as an instance of the divine judgment. He was then, as he informs us, twenty-one years of age, and since he was eight years old had never once omitted, morning and evening prayers to God, until one morning that two or three of his companions broke in on him while he was in bed, and carried him off with them to play long-bullets. While he was engaged in this sport, a three pound ball, thrown by one of his companions, hit a stone, and leaping back struck him above the left eye and flattened the projecting part of his skull. He fell down seemingly quite dead, and was carried to the house of a Mrs. Granger, a woman that knew a little of surgery, who stitched the wound in five different places and kept him for some time at her own house. A small splinter of a bone came out of his skull before he quite recovered. This hurt with extreme abstinence and large evacuations, necessary to prevent a fever, greatly shattered, he says, his excellent constitution.

He usually travelled, when living in Monaghan, all the way to Derriaghy on foot, to save money for his mother and the poor. His two brothers the clergymen, were also liberal to their master. He generally preached two Sundays at Lisburn church, when he paid those visits of filial duty., and always brought thither a crowded audience; for the people flocked from all quarters to hear him. His mother died in 1748.

When he was in London, there was a man from the parish of Derriaghy, he he assured us, that passed there for a wild Irishman, and was exhibited as a public show, dressed up with a false beard, artificial wings, and the like. Hundreds from all quarters flocked to see a strange spectacle, which they had often heard of before; and among others, a Derriaghy man, who happened to be in London, came in the crowd, and saw the wild Irishman, a hideous figure, with a chain about him, cutting his capers before a gaping multitude. Yet notwithstanding his disguise, he soon discovered that this wild Irishman was a neighbour's son, a sober, civilised young man, who had left Derriaghy a little time before him. When the show was finished he went behind the scene, and cried out so as to be heard by his country man, "Derriaghy, Derriaghy." Upon this the seeming wild Irishman, starting up  with surprise, spoke aloud, "I'll go any place for Derriaghy." They had then a private meeting, when he told him, that being scarce of money, he took that method of gulling the English, which succeeded far beyond his expectations.

Once a year he went to Lisburn to see his relations, when he generally took with him sixty guineas, which he divided among them. In Derriaghy there is a handsome rural place called the Big Glen, near Collin Mountain, which has been so often celebrated in poetry, where he used every summer to give his friends a treat on the grass, who spent one day with him in innocent relaxation.

Returning once from Lisburn with his hat tied over his face he met with his tithe-farmer near Enniskillen, and lifting up the brim of his hat, he saw him and said, "Is this you, George Irwin?" "Yes," replied "George. "Can you give me a guinea?" "I can." "Can you give me a shilling?" "I can." "O then," he said, " I'm as rich as a Jew, I'm as rich as a Jew."

Derriaghy, the place of his birth, belongs, it is well known, to the Earl of H. Before that nobleman obtained the government of this kingdom he used frequently to say, as Mr. Skelton told me, that it was a shame for the Lord Lieutenants of Ireland not to make Skelton a Bishop. It was reasonable then to suppose that these sentiments should operate with his Lordship, if an opportunity offered of putting them in practice. Consequently, when he came over to us Lord Lieutenant in the year 1765, Skelton probably expected to be raised by him to that high office, for which, from his virtue's and abilities, he was so eminently qualified. But he was disappointed, we know, in his hopes, if he had any.

Philip Skelton, it has been shown, was of a tall stature and majestic appearance; his countenance was agreeable and placid, displaying evident marks of a mind replete with humanity. His strong athletic frame enabled him in his youth to excel in the manly exercises, of his skill in which and of his bravery sufficient specimens have been produced. But it was the chief business of his life, he considered, to perform the sacred duties of the ministry with conscientious care, wherein he was hardly exceeded by any clergyman of any age. Sincere, strenuous, vehement in his admonitions, he was truly sensible of the importance of the glorious end he had in  view, the eternal happiness of his fellow creatures. He told them of a heaven and a hell where the virtuous shall be rewarded and the wicked punished, exciting them, by the most powerful arguments to seek the felicity of the one, and avoid the misery of the other. He declared open war against vice and impiety in every station, careless of the event, and only influenced by conscience. To instruct the ignorant, rouse the indolent, rebuke the obstinate, rectify the misguided, and turn the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, was the great object of his labours.

"The Poets of Ireland" to be continued.


(This article was originally published in the Lisburn Standard on 5 January 1917 as part of a series which ran in that paper each week through 1917. The text along with other extracts can be found on my website Eddies Extracts.)

Ancient Churches in Down and Connor.

SOME EXTRACTS

FROM THE

RECORDS OF 

OLD LISBURN

AND THE

MANOR OF KILLULTAGH.

-- -- -- --

Edited by JAMES CARSON.

-- -- -- --

XI.

-- -- -- --

ANCIENT CHURCHES IN DOWN AND CONNOR.

From "Belfast News-Letter," 23rd July, 1886.

How stuck modern archaeologists and other lovers of bygone history owe to those writers who, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, left behind them authentic records of the events that were passing in their own times could hardly be overestimated. This is especially the case with regard to ecclesiastical buildings, the stories connected with which read in many cases like the pages of romance. Our Scottish neighbours can boast of a long fine traditional and historic details connecting national and sectarian annals in almost uninterrupted sequence. And in remote ages England had collected together the scattered material of ecclesiastical history, all of which has been carefully preserved.

When Thomas Moore was writing his work on Ireland he had much difficulty in obtaining all the information he sought for in reference to sacred fanes and other buildings. Since his day an immense extent of light has been thrown on the subject by the genius and research of archaeologists.

Some years ago the learned Dr. Reeves, now Bishop or Down and Connor, published, in a handsome quarto, the most valuable collection of antiquarian lore that had ever appeared on the subject of diocesan history, and which as a book of reference seems to have been written for all time. And still more recently, the Rev. James O'Laverty, parish priest of Holywood, issued three volumes on the Church history of Down and Connor, which abound in information relating to the Reformed as well as the Roman Catholic Church. Thee labour and research which were brought into play in collecting material for these respective works must have been far beyond ordinary conception.

Respecting the priority of ages of ecclesiastical buildings, much difference of opinion may be found in the writings of men of high position in the literary world. When the church of Carrickfergus was being rebuilt is 1581, Lord Deputy Gray gave an order to the Mayor and Corporation of the town, which order was addressed to the provincial authority, desiring that gentleman to give the Corporation of Knockfergus whatever timber they required from "ye woods of Belfast." At that time the now capital of Ulster was a small fishing village that stood outside the English pale, and the order was, therefore, refused.

The parish of Shankill is frequently referred to in Dr. Reeves' history, and also in that of the Rev. J. O'Laverty. It's name signified old church, but at the tine of the erection in Carrickfergus not a vestige of the building remained.

Very soon after Sir Arthur Chichester was presented with the castle of Belfast and the lands that comprised the estate. It would appear that among the first of his acts as a landlord was that of providing a place of worship for the people. In October, 1615, the municipal authorities of the town issued a proclamation to the effect that on each Sabbath Day the burgesses and free commoners should assemble in their Town Hall, dressed in their official robes, and march in procession to the residence of the Sovereign, James Burr, and escort him to church. Penalties ranging from one to five shillings, according to the rank of the offenders, were recoverable for non-attendance at public worship. The church alluded to is supposed to have stood on the site now occupied by St. George's, High Street, and which in 1645 was pulled down and replaced by the erection of the building named the Corporation Church.

Lisburn.

Sir Fulke Conway, like Sir Arthur Chichester, enjoyed the patronage of Queen Elizabeth and her immediate successor. He too was sent to Ireland as commander of troops ordered there to aid in quelling the rebellion, and after partial peace had been made with several native chiefs, the gallant knight laid aside his weapons of war. and betook himself to the duties of landlordism. In addition to the Crown lands granted him, he became owner of the rectorial tithes of several parishes on the estate, and at once set about repairing such of the old churches as had been injured during the rebellion. He also erected new houses of worship.

The early history of Killultagh -- Church of the Wood -- has been lost in the mists of time, and that of Ballinderry is only partially known. In the middle of the sixteenth century, however, that old place of worship was put in thorough repair by Earl Conway, and to the present day there remain portions of the sacred walls that once re-echoed the sublime oratory of Jeremy Taylor.

Lisnagarvagh and Blayruss were separate parishes in the reign of James the First. Tradition has it that when Sir Fulke Conway took up his residence in the stronghold previously owned by the O'Neill known as captain of Killultagh there stood in the immediate vicinity a chapel in which the chief had mass celebrated when the fit of religious fervour came on, but as neither he himself nor his retainers paid much attention to such things sacred the house was left in decay. The new lord of the manor had the roof and walls partially repaired, but in 1623 the whole was taken down and the original of the present cathedral erected in its stead. The old warrior died the following year, and his brother Edward had arrived in Lisnagarvagh some months before the church was consecrated. That ceremonial was performed by Bishop Robert Echlin, the Rev. Alexander Forbeson, rector of Blaris, assisting.

The second owner of the estate in Warwickshire, as well as that in Down and Antrim, was in the same year raised to the peerage as Baron Conway of Ragley. This nobleman died in 1630. His son Edward, Viscount Killultagh, made many improvements in the Church, and about 1641 got a law passed, which was known as "Conway's Act," for the uniting of the parishes of Lisnagarvagh and Blaris.

Most schoolboys who have read about the rebellion of 1641 are aware that the Irish army in its retreat from Lisnagarvagh set fire to that town. Nearly all the thatched houses were burned, but except some damage to the roof the church had a fortunate escape, and was speedily repaired.

Another change of proprietorship took place in the Conway estate in 1655, and when the third viscount arrived at the capital of the property, then called Lisburn, he found the town garrisoned by Cromwell's troops, and on Sundays those soldiers occupied so many seats in the church, that only a few of the parishioners could be accommodated. The Rev. Alexander Wike, an Independent minister, had just settled in the town, and many of the Episcopal families attended his ministry.

Dr. Jeremy Taylor.

Lord Conway, finding that the great majority of the tenants on his estate were opposed to the Protectorate, induced the celebrated polemic Dr. Taylor to come over from England as a missionary to those Loyalists. His Lordship had a handsome cottage built and furnished at Portmara, near the borders of Lough Neagh, and a house in Lisburn, also furnished, for the future prelate, on whom he settled a handsome income. It was chiefly through Viscount Conway's influence at Court that Jeremy Taylor was elevated to the Episcopal Bench of Down and Connor. Very soon after the Restoration Charles the Second raised Lisburn Church to the dignity of cathedral of the diocese as a mark of respect to the people for their loyalty towards himself and his father.

A second fire took place in Lisburn in April, 1707, and did immense damage. Numbers of people were left homeless, but except the wooden tower that stood at the west end of the church that sacred building escaped serious injury. During that fire the splendid set of musical bells presented to the parishioners by the Countess Conway were melted into masses of metal.

Francis Seymour, the second member of the house of Somerset that inherited the Conway estates, and who resided in Lisburn several months of each year, had the church repaired and extended considerably. A stone tower was erected and a huge bell placed there. This gentleman had been raised to the peerage as Baron Seymour Conway of Ragley and Viscount Killultagh of Antrim. He repaired the churches of Lambeg and Derriaghy, and it was stated by Bishop Edward Smythe "that Lord Seymour Conway liberably supplemented the incomes of the smaller benefices on his estate."

The Cathedral Bells.

The baron died at his residence in Lisburn in February, 1732, and was succeeded by his eldest son, who became earl, and ultimately Marquis of Hertford. Like his predecessor, this nobleman was always ready to contribute towards the support of the churches connected with the different parishes on his estate. In 1752 he had the fused metal of Lady Conway's set of bells, and which had been preserved from the time of the great fire, sent to an eminent founder in Dublin, and, with a large increase of silver, the whole was recast, and when finished turned out one of the richest and soundest toned bells in the kingdom. In the course of the casting the words "Francis, Earl of Hertford!" were inscribed on the outside.

The old tower of the Lisburn Cathedral was taken down in 1804, and the second Marquis engaged the eminent architect, John M'Blain, to build the present spire Four pinnacles were raised on the basement, and as a work of art, viewed from foundation to the weathercock that swings on the topmost stone, the steeple is a great triumph of design and workmanship.

From 1796 to 1876 there were only two changes of rectors in the cathedrals of this diocese. The Rev. Dr. Cupples during his forty years of ministerial duty, effected many improvements in the sittings and galleries of the church, and it was in his day that the splendid organ, the gift of the third Marquis of Hertford, was set up in the eastern gallery.

Dean Stannus became rector in January, 1836, and he held office for forty years.

In the early months of 1847 the Ecclesiastical Commissioners had the steeple perfectly pointed with cement, the pinnacles, which had been blown down in a storm, were rebuilt and finished lower than before, and the vane and a ball regilt. The front entrance, which had been through the basement of the tower, was built up, a new door made in the side, and stone steps erected as an approach to the galleries. This added much to the sitting accommodation, and at the same time the pulpit and reading-desk were detached and remodelled, a new chancel was built, and the exceedingly handsome eastern window of satined glass, which gives its picturesque beauty to that end of the cathedral, was placed there. The cost, raised by private subscription, was said to have been considerably above £200.

Dean Stannus frequently alluded to the valuable assistance which, respecting design and finish of that eastern window, he had received from the late Mr. George Stephenson, a gentleman possessed of rare taste and judgement in the fine arts. It was afterwards a source of regret to the dean that when the chancel was being extended he did not go a little farther in the good work, and form a loft for the organ on one side the communion rails, and a range of seats for the choristers on the other. There is always something detractive from the effect of church music when it comes over the backs of the congregation.

The great bell of the cathedral set up in 1762 received some injury half a century afterwards, but which did not materially affect its tone. On the second Sunday of February, 1861, the breach made in the instrument sixty years before suddenly gave way, and all sound ceased. Richard, fourth Marquis of Hertford, immediately afterwards sent an order to the founder, Thomas Hodges, of Dublin, for a new bell of still greater dimensions, and more beautiful tone. The work was finished in January, 1862, and the grand tower of the cathedral once again resounded with the musical call to Divine worship.

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"A RAMBLE THROUGH DROMORE."

By JOHN F. MULLIGAN, Solicitor, Belfast.

From "Belfast News-Letter," November 9, 1886.

The name Dromore was derived from two Irish words signifying "The great ridge," or "The great back of a hill." Dromore was, either from an antiquarian or an ecclesiastical point of view, one of the most interesting towns in Ireland. The See of Dromore was founded about the year 500 by Saint Colman, who established a monastery or abbey there, and presided over it in the joint capacity of bishop and abbot. This abbey had acquired extensive possessions early in the tenth century, and was frequently plundered by the Danes. They read that "this town (Dromore) was in the fourteenth century the place of exile of two corrupt English judges -- viz., Sir John Holt and Sir Robert Bechnap -- who, for delivering their opinion that King Richard II. was above the laws, were found guilty of high treason and condemned to die; but, at the intercession of the clergy and some temporal lords, their sentences were changed to banishment to the village of Dromore, in Ireland, and they were confined not to go out of the town above the space of two miles on pain of death."

On 14th March, 1688, a skirmish generally known as the "Rout," or "Break," took place near this town, between a party of Protestants and some of the adherents of James the Second, and it was there that the first Protestant blood was shed in that memorable year.

Mr. Mulligan refers to the various places and objects of interest to be seen in the course of a ramble through Dromore, and gives interesting particulars regarding the Bishop's Palace, the Parish Church, which is also the Cathedral of the Diocese of Dromore; Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Percy, "Hafiz " (the nom de plume of the late Mr. Thomas Stott), the Lagan, the Presbyterian churches of Dromore, the schools, the Rev. James Porter (author of "Billy Bluff"), who was at one time a school teacher in Dromore; the old castle, the Unitarian Church, the Rev. Alexander Colvill, M.D.; the old Cross, the Stocks, the Mount, Thomas Romney Robinson and William Cunningham, the boy-poets of Dromore; the Methodist Church, St. Colman's Roman Catholic Church, and the "Break of Dromore."

The remains of Bishops Jenny Taylor, George Rust, Essex Digby, Capel Wiseman (who was grand-uncle of the late Cardinal Wiseman), and Thomas Percy were interred within the cathedral, as were also the remains of Mrs. Percy, the "Nancy" of Dr. Percy's charming ballad, "O, Nancy, wilt thou go with me?"

The Lagan,

upon whose banks the town of Dromore is built, rises on the northern slope of Slieve Croob, and flowing past Dromara, Dromore, Moira, and Lisburn, falls into the sea at Belfast. The name Lagan was an Irish word signifying "a hollow or hollow district between hills or mountains." In early Irish authorities the river was called "Cassan Linne," but in the life of Saint Colman it was designated "The Locha." The mouth of the river, where it fell into the sea, is called Vinderius by Ptolemy, the geographer.

Belfast Lough was anciently called Loch Laogh, and Dr. Reeves had said that the name Locha seemed to be derived from a common origin with Loch Laogh. This loch was afterwards called Lough Bannchor, then the Bay of Knockfergus, and finally Belfast Lough.

In an old map of the lough and adjoining country, drawn in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the river Lagan is called F. Leganda, and to the portion of the map representing the river are appended these words: "Alonge this river by ye space of twenty-six miles groweth much woodes as well as okes for tymber as hother woodde, wich maie be brought in the bale of Cragfargus with bote or by dragge."

The introduction of frogs in to County Down was said to have occurred at a place a few miles distant from Dromore, and it was stated that it was from County Down they had spread in such numbers through the rest of the country.

At one time there was a chalybeate spa in Dromore, but it had long since disappeared in consequence of the cutting of a drain. There were eight principal chalybeate spas in County Down. These were at Ardmillan, Killaghee, Gransha, Kirkdonnell, Magheralin, Dromore, Newry, and Turkelly. The waters of these spas differed from each other chiefly in the different degrees of strength of the mineral impregnation. The water of the Dromore spa was more brackish than the rest, curdled more with soap, and imparted some redness to beef boiled in it, having a greater proportion of calcareous nitre. The Dromore spa stood in the town, by the river side, with an exposure to the south, but being covered by an arch and trees the sun had no power over it. Some experiments were made in May, 1743, on the water of the spa; from which it appeared that its taste was strongly ferruginous, and it struck a very deep purple with galls and a light blue with logwood; a light purple with brandy and rectified spirits of wine; all evidences of an impregnating iron, and by the hydrometer it appeared to be nearly of the same specific gravity with the water of the Lagan. Its operation was purgative, and it was often drunk with success in some diseases of the kidneys.

The Cross and Stocks.

There was formerly a very fine sculptures granite cross sytanding in Dromore. The remains of it lay for many years at the south-west corner of the old Market-house, and the base of the cross was used as a stand for the town stocks. Both the stones of the cross and the stocks were removed to another part of the Market Square when the erection of the new Market-house was commenced.

Steps were being taken for the re-erection of the cross was originally erected by St. Colman at the time he founded the abbey in Dromore, and that it stood near the church. The late Mr. Welsh's theory regarding the origin of the Dromore Cross was to the following effect -- When Druidism was the prevailing religion there were throughout the country a great many holy wells or fountains at which religious ceremonies were performed. On the introduction of Christianity the missionaries erected crosses in the neighbourhood of these fountains, so that the early converts might be baptised at the foot of the cross, with the sacred water associated with their former religion, and in this way the ancient inhabitants were more easily persuaded to accept the new doctrines. Mr. Welsh's idea was that the Church Well (as it is now called), which is near the church, was a Druidical well or fountain, and that the Dromore Cross was originally erected near it for the purpose already indicated. Whatever uncertainty there may be as to the time of the original erection of the cross there was no doubt whatever of its having been a conspicuous object in Dromore in the beginning of the reign of James the First, as in the charter of 1609 that King granted a free market every Saturday, and two fairs yearly, to be held near the Church of Dromore, where a great stone cross then stood.

The cross afterwards either fell or was pulled down, and for many years it lay at that corner of the Market Square which was now known as Mr. Edgar's corner.

In 1803 company of the Donegal Militia being quartered in Dromore, a resident of the town proposed that these men should erect the cross in the Market Square, and offered to pay them half a guinea for their trouble. The militiamen accepted the offer, but, having accomplished their task in a very, short time, their employer would only give them five shillings. The men were so indignant at his conduct that they at once pulled the cross down again.

A short time afterwards the town stocks were erected at the south-west corner of the Market-house, upon the stone which formed the base of the cross, and at the corner of the Market-house the remaining stones of the cross lay on the ground beside the stocks from that period until the present year.

It was scarcely necessary to explain that the common stocks were an apparatus of wood or iron much used in former times for the punishment of petty offences. The culprit was placed on a seat with his ankles fastened in holes under a movable board of wood or bar of iron.

The period of the first introduction of the common stocks was uncertain, but in the 2nd statute of Labourers, 25th Edward III. (1350) provision was made for applying the stocks to unruly artificers; and in 1376 the Commons prayed Edward III. that stocks should be established in every village. The Dromore stocks, which were made of iron, were probably as good a specimen of this instrument of punishment as could be found in the United Kingdom. They were probably standing in Dromore previously to their being erected on the basement of the cross; but without doubt they stood on the south-west corner of the Market-house from 1805 till 1886, and, although exposed to all the changes of our variable climate for more than eighty years, they are now as complete as on the day they were first erected.

In the burial-ground in connection with the First Presbyterian Church (Dr. Strain's) lie the remains of John Morgan, whom Denis Holland pronounced "the intellectual Titan of the North." Unhappily, no stone marked the resting-place of this talented man in that burial-ground at Dromore which he himself described as the "pine-girt graveyard."

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LOUGH NEAGH AND ITS CASTLE.

By Mrs. CRAIK in the "English Illustrated Magazine."

Scarcely a stone's throw from a gloomy graveyard we came out suddenly upon the glittering expanse of Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the three kingdoms, twenty miles long by fifteen broad, looking like an inland sea. Not a ship or boat of any sort dotted its vast smooth surface; its long level shores -- for there is not a mountain near -- added to the sense of silent, smiling, contented desolation.

"See how we Irish throw away our blessings," said my companion, as we stood looking at the lovely sight. "In England such a splendid sheet of water would have been utilised in many ways, and made a centre of both business and pleasure. Factories would have sprung up along its shores, yachts, steamers, fishing boats, would have covered it from end to end. Now, Moore's solitary fisherman, who is supposed to stray on its banks

     " 'At the clear, cold eve's declining'

(probably bent on catching pollan, the only fish attainable here) -- might easily imagine he saw

     " 'The round towers of other days
         In the wave beneath him shining!' "

"But did he?" I was foolish enough to ask, because most fiction has a grain of fact at its core. "Was there ever anything curious seen at the bottom of Lough Neagh?"

"I have dredged it from end to end and found many submarine curiosities, but never a round tower or a king's palace. Even the fossilising power which is said to be in its waters, I believe, lies not in the lake itself, but in one of its tributaries, the Crumlin river, which has probably the same petrifying and preserving qualities that exist in bog. At any rate, the fossil wood which is often found in the lough is extremely beautiful."

"And there is really no record of submerged cities?" said I, still craving after my pleasant fiction, "The waters must cover such an enormous surface, which was dry land once."

"Certainly. It is said that about A.D. 100 the river Bann overflowed, and drowned a prince of Ulster with all his kingdom. Or, if you prefer it, your own Caxton declared that the prince and his people, being 'men of evyle lyvinge,' opened a holy well, which was always kept closed. A woman went to draw water with her child, the child cried, she ran to it, leaving the well uncovered, when up welled the waters, destroying the whole country -- including the woman and child. This is said to have happened A.D. 65. So you can choose between two conflicting dates and traditions, and please yourself, as you mostly can in all histories. But here's an undeniable fact -- the Castle."

Not the original fortress, built by the first O'Neill on the shores of Lough Neagh, with the good right hand yet left to him, but the half-modern, half-mediæval one which was burned to the ground as late as 1816. Its ruins, picturesque and ivy-grown, showed what a fine building it must have been. I was shown "Lord O'Neill's safe" -- a sort of cupboard in the enormously thick wall -- still left standing in what had been an upper room. Also the black stone, once a carved head, fixed in the outer masonry, to which clings a tradition that when it falls the family of O'Neill will end.

Of course they have a banshee -- all real old Irish families have. Not the modern Anglo-Irish, who came over with Edmund Spencer, Oliver Cromwell, or King James, but the true Celts. A friend, whose uncle was present at the burning of Shane's Castle, told me the story of it. Lord O'Neill -- a bachelor -- has a party of gay bachelor friends dining with him. In the midst of their jollifications fire broke out in a different room. Nobody minded it much at first -- nobody does mind evil in Ireland till too late to mend it -- and then they inquired for the fire-engine. It had been carried off that very day a dozen miles to destroy a wasp's nest in a cottage roof! So their was nothing for it but to remove the pictures, furniture, and valuables -- or as much of them as they could -- and let the castle burn. Lord O'Neill and his companions, who must have been pretty sober now, sat on an old box and watched it burn. With the Lough and its waters only a few yards off, they yet could do nothing, unless it was to curse their own folly in letting go the only means of safety -- the fire engine. While they sat helplessly gazing, my friends uncle always declared he saw, and several of the other guests affirmed the same, a female figure, all in white, stand wringing her hands, and then pass and repass from window to window of the burning house, in which they were certain there was no living creature, Of course it was the Banshee of the O'Neills.

After this, no one attempted to rebuild the old castle.

Next week will commence a series of Articles on Local Literary Men.


(This article was originally published in the Lisburn Standard on 29 December 1916 as part of a series which ran in that paper each week through 1917. The text along with other extracts can be found on my website Eddies Extracts.)