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COUNTY OF GALWAY,
THE CASTLE OF AUGHNANURE,
been written. They have been sketched by the practised hand of Inglis, and by the more graphic pencil of Cæsar
Otway ; but its history and more important antiquities have Nor many years since there was an extensive district in the been as yet but little noticed, and, consequently, generally west of Ireland, which, except to those inhabiting it, was a passed by without attracting the attention or exciting any sort of terra incognita, or unknown region, to the people of interest in the mind of the traveller. We propose to our. the British isles. It had no carriage roads, no inns or hotels, selves to supply this defect to some extent, and have conseno towns ; and the only notion popularly formed of it was quently chosen as the subject of our first illustration the anthat of an inhospitable desert-the refugium of malefactors cient castle, of which we have presented our readers with a and Irish savages, who set all law at defiance, and into which view, and which is the most picturesque, and, indeed, important it would be an act of madness for any civilized man to ven- remain of antiquity within the district which we have described. ture. This district was popularly called the Kingdom of Journeying along the great road from Galway to Oughterard, Connemara, a name applied to that great tract extending and at the distance of about two miles from the latter, the from the town of Galway to the Killery harbour, bounded on attention of the traveller will most probably be attracted by a the east by the great lakes called Lough Corrib and Lough beautiful little river, over which, on a natural bridge of limeMask, and on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, and comprising stone rock, the road passes ; and looking to the right, towards within it the baronies of Moycullen and Ballinahinch, and the the wide expanse of the waters of Lough Corrib, he will perceive half barony of Ross. It is not an unknown region now. It the grey tower or keep of an extensive castle, once the chief has two prosperous towns and several villages, good roads, and seat or fortress of the O'Flaherties, the hereditary lords of comfortable hotels. “ The Queen's writ will run in it;" and West Connaught, or Connemara. This castle is called the the inhabitants are remarkable for their intelligence, quiet- Castle of Aughnąnure, or, properly, Achaidh-na-n-Jubhar, ness, honesty, hospitality, and many other good qualities ; and Acha-na-n-ure, or the field of the yews—an appellation de in the summer months it is the favourite resort of the artist, rived from the number of ancient trees of that description antiquary, geologist, botanist, ornithologist, sportsman—in which grew around it, but of which only a single tree now short, of pleasure tourists of all descriptions, and from every survives. This vestige is, however, the most ancient and in
quarter of the British empire ; for it is a district singularly teresting ruin of the locality. Its antiquity must be great inrich in its attractions to all those who look for health and deed more than a thousand years; and, growing as it does pleasure from a summer's ramble, combined with excitable out of a huge ledge of limestone rock, and throwing its wioccupation. Of its picturesque beauties much has already thered and nearly leafless branches in fantastic forms across
NO. 1.THE WASHERWOMAN.
BY MRS S. C. HALL.
the little river which divides it from the castle, the pictur
THE IRISH IN ENGLAND. esqueness of its situation is such as the painter must look at with feelings of admiration and delight. It has also its historical legend to give it additional interest; and unfortunately this legend, though quite in harmony with the lone and melan. The only regular washerwomen extant in England at this choly features of the scene, is but too characteristic of the present moment, are natives of the Emerald Isle. unhappy social and political state of Ireland at the period to We have_I pray you observe the distinction, gentle reawhich it relates—the most unfortunate period, as it may be der-laundresses in abundance. But washerwomen!-all the emphatically called, of Ireland's history—that of the civil wars washerwomen are Irish. in the middle of the seventeenth century. The principle, how. The Irish Washerwoman promises to wash the muslin curs ever, which we propose to ourselves in the conducting of our tains as white as a hound's tooth, and as sweet as “new mowi publication, will not permit us to give this legend a place in hay ;” and she tells the truth. But when she promises to its pages ; it may be learned on the spot; and we have only “get them up” as clear as a kitten's eyes, she tells a story. alluded to it here, in order to state that it is to the religious | In nine cases out of ten, the Irish Washerwoman mars her own veneration kept alive by this tradition that the yew tree of admirable washing by a carelessness in the " getting up." Aughnanure owes its preservation from the fate which has She makes her starch in a hurry, though it requires the most overtaken all its original companions.
patient blending, the most incessant stirring, the most conThe Castle of Aughnanure, though greatly dilapidated by stant boiling, and the cleanest of all skillits ; and she will not time, and probably still more so by the great hurricane of understand the superiority of powder over stone blue, but last year, is still in sufficient preservation to convey to those snatches the blue-bag (originally compounded from the who may examine its ruins a vivid impression of the domestic “ heel” or “ toe” of a stocking) out of the half-broken teahabits and peculiar household economy of an old Irish chief cup, where it lay companioning a lump of yellow soap since of nearly the highest rank. His house, a strong and lofty last wash-squeezes it into the starch (which, perhaps, she tower, stands in an ample court-yard, surrounded by out has been heedless enough to stir with a dirty spoon), and then works perforated with shot-holes, and only accessible through there is no possibility of clear curtains, clear point, clear any its drawbridge gateway-tower. The river, which conveyed thing. his boats to the adjacent lake, and supplied his table with the “ Biddy, these curtains were as white as snow before you luxuries of trout and salmon, washes the rock on which its starched them." walls are raised, and forms a little harbour within them. Cel. “ Thrue for ye, ma'am dear." lars, bake-houses, and houses for the accommodation of his They are blue now, Biddy." numerous followers, are also to be seen ; and an appendage
“ Not all out." not usually found in connection with such fortresses also ap- “ No, Biddy, not all over
r-only here and there." pears, namely, a spacious banqueting-hall for the revels of Ah, lave off, ma'am, honey, will ye ?—'tisn't that I mane; peaceful times, the ample windows of which exhibit a style of but there's a hole worked in the blue-rag, bad luck to it, and architecture of no small elegance of design and execution. more blue nor is wanting gets out; and the weary's in the
We shall probably in some early number of our Journal starch, it got lumpy; give a genealogical account of the noble family to whom this “ It could not have got 'lumpy' if it had been well castle belonged; but in the mean time it may be satisfactory blended." to the reader to give him an idea of the class of persons by “ It was blended like butther ; but I just left off stirring whom the chief was attended, and who occasionally required one minute to look at the soldiers.” accommodation in his mansion. They are thus enumerated “Ah, Biddy, an English laundress would not run after in an ancient manuscript preserved in the College Library :- the soldiers !' O’Canavan, his physician; Mac Gillegannan, chief of the Such an observation is sure to offend Biddy's propriety, horse; O'Colgan, his standard-bearer ; Mac Kinnon and and she goes off in a “ huff," muttering that if they didn't go O'Mulavill, his brehons, or judges ; the O'Duvans, his atten- “ look afther them, they'd skulk afther them; it's the London dants on ordinary visitings; Mac Gille-Kelly, his ollave in Blacks does the mischief, and the mistress ought to know that genealogy and poetry; Mac Beolain, his keeper of the black herself. English laundresses indeed ! they haven't power in bell of St Patrick ; O'Donnell, his master of revels; O'Ki-their elbow to wash white." cherain and O'Conlachtna, the keepers of his bees ; O'Mur- Biddy says all this, and more, for she is a stickler for the gaile, his chief steward, or collector of his revenues. honour of her country, and wonders that I should prefer an
The date of the erection of this castle is not exactly known, thing English to every thing Irish. But the fact remains th though it was originally inscribed on a stone over its entrance gateway, which existed in the last century. From the style The actual labour necessary at the wash-tub is far better of its architecture, however, it may be assigned with sufficient performed by the Irish than the English ; but the order, certainty to the middle of the sixteenth century, with the neatness, and exactness required in " the getting up,” is exception, perhaps, of the banqueting-hall, which appears to better accomplished by the English than the Irish. This is be of a somewhat later age.
perfectly consistent with the national character of both While the town of Galway was besieged in 1651 by the par- countries. liamentary forces under the command of Sir Charles Coote, Biddy Mahony is without exception the most useful person the Castle of Aughnanure afforded protection to the Lord I know, and she knows it also ; and yet it never makes her Deputy the Marquess of Clanricarde, until the successes of his presuming. It is not only as a washerwoman that her talent adversaries forced him and many other nobles to seek safety shines forth : she gets through as much hard work as two in the more distant wilds of Connemara. This event is thus women, though, as she says herself, “ the mistress always stated by the learned Roderick O'Flaherty in 1683:
finds fault with her finishing touches.” There she stands, a “Anno 1651.-Among the many strange and rare vicis fine-looking woman still, though not young; her large mouth situdes of our own present age, the Marquis of Clanricarde, ever ready with its smile ; her features expressive of shrewd Lord Deputy of Ireland, the Earl of Castlehaven, and Earl good humour ; and her keen grey eyes alive and about, noti of Clancarty, driven out of the rest of Ireland, were enter- resting for a moment, and withal cunning, if not keen; the tained, as they landed on the west shore of this lake for a borders of her cap are twice as deep as they need be, and! night's lodging, under the mean roof of Mortough Boy Bran- fiap untidily about her face; she wears a coloured handkerhagh, an honest farmer's house, the same year wherein the chief inside a dark blue spotted cotton gown, which wraps most potent monarch of Great Britain, our present sovereign, loosely in front, where it is confined by the string of her bowed his imperial triple crown under the boughs of an oak apron ; her hands and wrists have a half-boiled appearance, tree, where his life depended on the shade of the tree leaves." which it is painful to look at-not that she uses as much soda
There are several of the official letters of the Marquis pre- as an English laundress, but she does not spare served in his Memoirs, dated from Aughnanure, and written exertions, and rubs most unmercifully. One bitter frosty during the stormy period of which we have made mention. day last winter, I saw Biddy standing near the laundry win
The Castle of Aughnanure has passed from the family to dow, stitching away with great industry. whom it originally belonged ; but the representative and the " What are you doing, Biddy?” “Oh, never heed me chief of his name, Henry Parker O'Flaherty, Esq. of Lemon- ma'am, honey, field, a descendant in the female line from the celebrated Why, Biddy, what a state your left wrist is in !—it is posi Grania Waille, still possesses a good estate in its vicinity. P. I tively bleeding; you have rubbed all the skin off.”
ain't I going to put a skin on it?" she said, smiling through character, or work—it's all I have to be proud of in the wide the tears which positive pain had drawn from her eyes, in world." spite of her efforts to conceal them, and showing me a dou- How much more respect does this beget in every rightble piece of wash leather which she was sewing together so thinking mind, than the mean attempt to conceal a fact of as to cover the torn flesh. Now, was not that heroism? which we all, as well as poor Biddy, have a right to be proud! But Biddy is a heroine, without knowing it.
The greatest hero in the world was unfortunate, but he was And in common with many others of her sex and country, not less a hero.; the most highly favoured country in the her heroism is of that patient, self-denying character which world has been in the same predicament, but it is not less a
passeth show.” She is uniformly patient-can bear an ex. great country, traordinary quantity of abuse and unkindness, and knows Biddy's reply, however, to any one in an inferior grade of quite well that to a certain degree she is in an enemy's society, is very different. country. Half the bad opinion of the “ low Irish," as they
“ Is it Irish?—to be sure I am. Do ye think I'm going to are often insultingly termed, arises from old national preju- deny my counthry, God bless it ! Throth and it's myself that
the other half is created by themselves, for many of is, and proud of that same. Irish ! what else would I be, I them are provokingly uproarious, and altogether heedless of wonder?” the manners and opinions of those among whom they live.
Poor Biddy ! her life has been one long-drawn scene of This is not the case with Biddy; she has a great deal of what incessant, almost heart-rending labour. From the time she was we are apt to call “cunning” in the poor, but which we gen- eight years old, she earned her own bread; and
any, ignorant teelly denominate “tact” in the rich. While you imagine she of the wild spirit-springing outbursts of glee, that might is only pulling out the strings of her apron, she is all eye, almost be termed “the Irish epidemic,” would wonder how it ear, and understanding; she is watchful as a cat; and if she
was that Biddy retained her habitual cheerfulness, to say indulges in an aside jest, which sometimes never finds words, nothing of the hearty laughter she indulges in of an evening, on the peculiarities of her employers, there is nothing very and the Irish jig she treats the servants to at the kitchen atrocious in the fact. Poor Biddy's betters do the same, and
Christmas merry-making. term it “badinage." It is not always that we judge the Last Christmas, indeed, Biddy was not so gay as usual. poor and rich by the same law.
Our pretty housemaid had for two or three years made it a With young servants the Irish Washerwoman is always a
regular request that Biddy should put her own wedding ring favourite: she is cheerful, tosses a cup to read a fortune in had the luck to find it in her division. But so it was.
in the kitchen pudding - I do not know why, for Jessie
А perfection, and not unfrequently, I am sorry to say, has half of a dirty torn pack of cards in her pocket for the same pur- The cook puffed out with additional importance,
merry night is Christmas eve in our cheerful English homesing steam that winds from the upraised skylight of the laun- ingredients according to rule, for « a one-pound or twodry, comes some old time-honoured melody, that in an instant pound pudding;” surveying her larded turkey, and probrings the scenes and sounds of Ireland around us. She will
nouncing upon the relative merits of the sirloin which is to be rend our hearts with the Cruskeen laun,“ or “ Gramachree, for the kitchen ; although she has a great deal to do, like all
“ roast for the parlour,” and “the ribs" that are destined and then strike into “Garryowen” or “ St Patrick's Day,” with the ready transition of interest and feeling that belongs is a great deal to eat ; and she exults over the “ dozens” of
English cooks she is in a most sweet temper, because there only to her country.
mince pies, the soup, the savoury fish, the huge bundles of Old English servants regard the Irish Washerwoman with celery, and the rotund barrel of oysters, in a manner that suspicion; they think she does too much for the money, that must be seen to be understood. †he housemaid is eqall y she gives “ Missus” a bad habit; and yet they are ready busy in her department. The groom smuggles in the mistleenough to put their own clothes" into the month's wash, and toe, which the old butler slyly suspends from one of the bacon expect Biddy to “ pass them through the tub;" a favour she is hooks in the ceiling, and then kisses the cook beneath. The too wise to refuse.
green-grocer's boy gets well rated for not bringing “ red Happily for the menage of our English houses, the tempta. berries on all the holly. The evening is wound up with potion to thievery which must exist where, as in Dublin, ser- tations, “ pottle deep," of ale and hot elderberry wine, and a vants are allowed what is termed " breakfast money,” which loud cheer echoes through the house when the clock strikes means that they are not to eat of their employers' bread, but twelve. Poor must the family be, who have not a few pounds “ find themselves,” and which restriction, all who understand of meat, a few loaves of bread, and a few shillings, to distri. human nature know is the greatest possible inducement to bute amongst some old pensioners on Christmas eve. picking and stealing; happily, I say, English servants have In our small household, Biddy has been a positive necesno temptation to steal the necessaries of life; they are fed sary for many Christmas days, and as many Christmas eves. and treated as human beings; and consequently there is not a she was never told to come_it was an understood thing. tithe of the extravagance, the waste, the pilfering, which is Biddy rang the gate bell every twenty-fourth of December, to be met with in Irish kitchens.
at six o'clock, and even the English cook returned her national For all this I blame the system rather than the servant; salutation of " God save all here,” with cordiality. and it is quite odd how Biddy accommodates herself to every Jessie, as I have said, is her great ally ; I am sure she has modification of system in every house she goes to. The only found her at least a score of husbands, in the tea cups, in as thing she cannot bear is to hear her country abused; even a
many months, jest at its expense will send the blood mounting to her cheek; The morning of last Christmas eve, however, Biddy came and some years ago (for Biddy and I are old acquaintances) not. Six o'clock, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, and the maids I used to tease her most unmercifully on that head. There were not up. is nothing elevates the Irish peasant so highly in my esteem “How did they know the hour ?-Biddy never rang." The as his earnest love for his country when absent from it. Your house was in a state of commotion. The cook declaring, well-bred Irishman, in nine cases out of ten, looks discon- bit by bit, that she knew how it would hend! -- it was certed when you allude to his country, and with either a halways the way with them Hirish. Oh, dirty, ungratebrogue or a tone, an oily, easy, musical swing of the voice, ful!-- very pretty! Who was to eat the copper, or boil which is never lost, begs to inquire “ how you knew he was the am, or see after the sallery, or butter the tins, or old Irish ?” and has sometimes the audacity to remark, that the pudding cloth ?"-while Jessie whimpered, or drop the people cannot help their misfortunes.'
ring in the kitchen pudding !" But the peasant-born have none of this painful affectation. Instead of the clattering domestic bustle of old Christmas, Hear Biddy when challenged as to her country: the ques- everyone looked sulky, and, as usual when a household is tioner is a lady.
not astir in the early morning, every thing went wrong. I “ Thrue for ye, madam, I am Irish, sure, and my people got out of temper myself, and, resolved if possible never to before me, God be praised for it! I'd be long sorry to dis- speak to a servant when angry, I put on my furs, and set grace my counthry, my lady. Fine men and women stays in forth to see what had become of my poor industrious country, it and comes out of it, the more's the pity—that last, I mane; it's well enough for the likes of me to lave it ; I could do it no She lived at the corner of Gore Lane !-the St Giles's of our good. But, as to the gentry, the sod keeps them, and sure respectable parish of Kensington ; and when I entered her they might keep on the sod! Ye needn't be afraid of me, my little room- - which, by the way, though never orderly, was lady; I scorn to disgrace my counthry; I'm not afraid of my always clean-Biddy, who had been sitting over the embers
of the fire, instead of sending the beams of her countenance to wedding ring aff my hand—the hand that had saved and greet me, turned away, and burst into tears.
slaved for her! The ring! oh, many's the tear I've shed on This was unexpected, and the ire which had in some it; and many a time, when I've been next to starving, and it has degree arisen at the disappointment that had disturbed the glittered in my eyes, I've been tempted to part with it, but house, vanished altogether. I forgot to say that Biddy had I couldn't. It had grown thin, like myself, with the hardship been happily relieved from the blight of a drunken husband of the world; and yet when I'd look at it twisting on my poor about six years ago, and laboured to support three little wrinkled finger, I'd think of the times gone by, of him who children without ever having entertained the remotest idea had put it on, and would have kept his promise but for the of sending them to the parish.
temptation of drink, and what it lades to; and those times, She had “her families,” for whom she washed at their when throuble would be crushing me into the earth, I'd think own houses, and at over hours “took in" work at her small of what I heard onct—that a ring was a thing like etarnity, cottage.
having no beginning nor end; and I'd turn it, and turn it, and To assist in this, and also from motives of charity, she turn it! and find comfort in believing that the little penemployed a young girl distinguished by the name of Louisa, ance here was nothing in comparison to that without a whom she preserved from worse than death. This creature beginning or an end that we war to go to hereafter-it she found starving; and although she brought fever amongst might be in heaven, or it might (God save us !) be in her children, and her preserver lost much employment in con- the other place ; and,” said poor Biddy, “ I drew a dale sequence, Biddy “saw her through the sickness, and, by the of consolation from that, and she knew it-she, the sarpint, goodness of Almighty God, would be nothing the worse or that I shared my children's food with—she knew it, and, the poorer for having befriended a motherless child.” while I slept the heavy sleep of hard labour, she had the
Those who bestow from the treasures of their abundance, heart to rob me!--to rob me of the only treasure (barring deserve praise ; but those who, like the poor Irish Washer the childre) I had in the world! I'm a great sinner; I can't woman, bestow half of their daily bread, and suffer the say, God forgive her ; nor I can't work; and it's put me apast needy to shelter beneath their roof, deserve blessings. doing my duty; and Jessie, the craythur, laid ever so much
The cause of Biddy's absence, and the cause of Biddy's store by it, on account of the little innocent charrums; and, tears, I will endeavour to repeat in her own words :
altogether, it's the sorest Christmas day that ever came to “ I come home last night, as usual, more dead than alive, me. Oh, sure, I wouldn't have that girl's heart in my breast until I got sitting down with the childre; for, having put two for a goolden crown—the ingratitude of her bates the world !" or three potatoes, as usual, my lady, to heat, just on the bar, It really was a case of the most hardened ingratitude I I thought, tired as I was, I'd iron out the few small things had ever known—the little wretch! to rob the only friend she
Loo' had put in blue, particularly a clane cap and hand- ever had, while sleeping in the very bed where she had been kercher, and the aprons for to-day, as yer honor likes to see tended, and tendered, and cared for, so unceasingly. me nice; and the boy got a prize at school; for, let me do as might take all I had in the world, if she had only left me I would, I took care they should have the edication that makes that,” she repeated continually, while rocking herself back. the
poor rich. Well, I noticed that Loo's hair was hanging wards and forwards over the fire, after the fashion of her in ringlets down her face, and I says to her, My honey,' country; "the thrifle of money, the rags, and the child's I says, “if Annie was you, and she's my own, I'd make her book-all—and I'd have had a clane breast. I could forgive put up her hair plain; the way her Majesty wears it is good her from my heart, but I can't forgive her for taking my enough, I should think, for such as you, Louisa ;' and with that ring—for taking my wedding ring 5" she says, 'It might do for Annie; but for her part, her mo- This was not all. The girl was traced and captured; and ther was a tradeswoman.' Well, I bit my tongue to hinder the same day Biddy was told she must go to Queen-square myself from hurting her feelings by telling her what her mo- to identify the prisoner. ther was, for the blush of shame is the only one that misbecomes Me,” she exclaimed, "who never was in the place of the a woman's cheek.
law before, what can I say but that she tuck it ?” But I waited till our work was over, and, picking her out An Irish cause always creates a sensation in a police-office. the two mealy potatoes, and sharing, as I always did, my half The magistrates smile at each other, the reporter cuts his pint of beer with her, when I had it, I raisoned with her, as pencil and arranges his note-book, and the clerk covers the I often did before; and looking to where my three sleeping lower part of his face with his hand, to conceal the expression childre lay, little Jemmy's cheek blooming like a rose, on his that plays around his mouth. prize book, which he took into bed with him, I called God to Biddy's curtsey—a genuine Irish dip—and her opening witness, that though nature, like, would draw my heart more speech, which she commenced by wishing their honours a to my own flesh and blood, yet I'd see to her as I would to merry Christmas and plenty of them, and that they might them.
have the power of doing good to the end of their days, and She made me no answer, but put the potatoes aside, and never meet with ingratitude for that same," was the only said, Mother, go to bed.'. I let her call me mother,' con- absurdity connected with her deposition. tinued Biddy, 'it's such a sweet sound, and hinders one, when When she saw the creature with whom her heart had one has it to call, from feeling lonesome in the world; it's the dwelt so long, in the custody of the police, she was completely shelter for many a breaking heart, and the home of many a overcome, and intermingled her evidence with so many wild one; ould as I am, I miss my mother „still ! Louisa,' I entreaties that mercy should be shown the hardened delinsays, 'I've heard my own childre their prayers-kneel down, quent, that the magistrate was sensibly affected. Short as a'lanna, there, and get over them."
was the time that had elapsed between Louisa's elopement My throat's so sore,' she says, 'I can't say 'em out. and discovery, she had spent the money and pawned the Don't ye see I could not eat the potatoes ?' This was about half ring: and twenty hands at least were extended to the Irish past twelve, and I had spoke to the po-lis to give me a Washerwoman with money to redeem the pledge. call at five. But when I woke, the grey of the morning was Poor Biddy had never been so rich before in all her life ; in the room with me; and knowing where I ought to have but that did not console her for the sentence passed upon her been, I hustled on my things, and hearing a po-lis below the protegé, and it was a long time before she was restored to window (we know them by the steady tramp they have, as if her usual spirits. She Hagged and pined; and when the they'd rather go slow than fast), I says, “ If you plaise, what's spring began to advance a little, and the sun to shine, her the clock, and why didn't you call me?' • It's half past misery became quite troublesome, her continual wail being seven,' he says; and sure the girl, when she went out at “ for the poor sinful craythur who was shut up among stone half past five, said you war up.'
walls, and would be sure to come out worse than she went in !" · My God !_what girl ?' I says, turning all over like a The old cook lived to grow thoroughly ashamed of the corpse; and then I missed my bonnet and shawl, and saw my reproaches she cast on Biddy, and Jessie shows her off on all box empty; she had even taken the book from under the occasions as a specimen of an Irish Washerwoman. child's cheek. But that wasn't all. I'd have forgiven her for the loss of the clothes, and the tears she forced from the eyes of QUICK SENSES OF THE ARAB.— Their eyesight is pecumy innocent child; I'd forgive her for making my heart grow liarly sharp and keen. Almost before I could on the horizon oulder in half an hour, than it had grown in its whole life discern more than a moving speck, my guides would detect a before; but my wedding ring, ma'am!—her head had often stranger, and distinguish upon a little nearer approach, by this shoulder for its pillow, and I'd throw this arm over her, his garb and appearance, the tribe to which he belonged.so. Oh, ma'am darlint, could you believe it ?—she stole my | Wellsted's City of the Caliphs.
deep on their floors, and on their windows, and many of them THE IRISH IN 1644:
ornament the ceilings with branches. AS DESCRIBED BY A FRENCHMAN OF THAT PERIOD.
They are fond of the harp, on which nearly all play, as We are indebted to our talented countryman, Crofton the English do on the fiddle, the French on the lute, the ItaCroker, for the translation of the tour of a French traveller, lians on the guitar, the Spaniards on the castanets, the
Scotch on the bagpipe, the Swiss on the fife, the Germans on M. de la Boullaye Le Gouz, in Ireland in 1644. Its author the trumpet, the Dutch on the tambourine, and the
Turks journeyed from Dublin to the principal cities and towns in on the flageolet. Ireland, and sketches what he saw in a very amusing man- The Irish carry a scquine [skein) or Turkish dagger, which The value of the publication, however, is greatly en
they dart very adroitly at fifteen paces distance; and have this
advantage, that if they remain masters of the field of battle, hanced by the interesting notes appended to it by Mr there remains no enemy; and if they are routed, they fly in Croker and some of his friends ; and as the work is less such a manner that it is impossible to catch them. I have known in Ireland than it should be, we extract from it the
seen an Irishman with ease accomplish twenty-five leagues a Frenchman's sketch of the habits and customs of the Irish but they have few drums, and they use the musket and cannon
day. They march to battle with the bagpipes instead of fifes ; people as they prevailed two centuries back, in the belief that
as we do. They are better soldiers abroad than at home. they will be acceptable to our readers.
The red-haired are considered the most handsome in Ire“ Ireland, or Hibernia, has always been called the Island land. The women have hanging breasts ; and those who are of Saints, owing to the number of great men who have been freckled, like a trout, are esteemed the most beautiful. born there. The natives are known to the English under the
The trade of Ireland consists in salmon and herrings, name of Iriche, to the French under that of Hibernois, which which they take in great numbers. You have one hundred they take from the Latin, or of Irois, from the English, or Ir- and
twenty herrings for an English penny, equal to a carolus landois from the name of the island, because land signifies of France, in the fishing time. They import wine and salt ground. They call themselves Ayrenake, in their own lan- from France, and sell there strong frize cloths at good prices. guage, a tongue which you must learn by practice, because The Irish are fond of strangers, and it costs little to travel they do not write it; they learn Latin in English characters, amongst them. When a traveller of good address enters with which characters they also write their own language their houses with assurance, he has but to draw a box of and so I have seen a monk write, but in such a way as no one
sinisine, or snuff, and offer it to them; then these people rebut himself could read it.
ceive him with admiration, and give him the best they have Saint Patrick was the ostle of this island, who according to eat. They love the Spaniards as their brothers, the French to the natives blessed the land, and gave his malediction to all
as their friends, the Italians as their allies, the Germans as venomous things ; and it cannot be denied that the earth their relatives, the English and Scotch as their irreconcileable
enemies. and the timber of Ireland, being transported, will contain
I was surrounded on my journey from Kilkinik neither serpents, worms, spiders, nor rats, as one sees in the Kilkenny) to Cachel (Cashel] by a detachment of twenty west of England and in Scotland, where all particular per
Irish soldiers ; and when they learned I was a Frankard (it is sons have their trunks and the boards of their floors of Irish thus they call us), they did not molest me in the least, but wood; and in all Ireland there is not to be found a serpent
made me offers of service, seeing that I was neither Sazanach or toad.
[Saxon) nor English. The Irish of the southern and eastern coasts follow the
The Irish, whom the English call savages, have for their customs of the English ; those of the north, the Scotch. The head-dress a little blue bonnet, raised two fingers-breadth in others are not very polished, and are called by the English doublet has a long body and four skirts ; and their breeches
front, and behind covering their head and ears. Their savages. The English colonists were of the English church, and the Scotch were Calvinists, but at present they are all
are a pantaloon of white frize, which they call trousers. Their Puritans. The native Irish are very good Catholics, though shoes, which are pointed, they call brogues, with a single knowing little of their religion ; those of the Hebrides and of sole. They often told me of a proverb in English, Airische the North acknowledge only Jesus and St Colombe [Columkill], brogues for Englich dogues' [Irish brogues for English dogs] but their faith is great in the church of Rome. Before the
• the shoes of Ireland for the dogs of England,' meaning English revolution, when an Irish gentleman died, his Bri
that their shoes are worth more than the English. tannic majesty became seised of the property and tutellage of the neck, the body, and over the head, and they never quit
For cloaks they have five or six yards of frize drawn round the children of the deceased, whom they usually brought up this mantle, either in sleeping, working, or eating. The gein the English Protestant religion. Lord Insequin (Inchiquin] was educated in this manner, to whom the Irish have nerality of them have no shirts, and about as many lice as given the name of plague or pest of his country.
hairs on their heads, which they kill before each other without
any ceremony. The Irish gentlemen eat a great deal of meat and butter,
The northern Irish have for their only dress a breeches, and and but little bread. They drink milk, and beer, into which they put laurel leaves, and eat bread baked in the English The women of the north have a double rug, girded round
a covering for the back, without bonnets, shoes, or stockings. manner. The poor grind barley and peas between two their middle and fastened to the throat. Those bordering stones, and make it into bread, which they cook upon a small
on Scotland have not more clothing. The girls of Ireland, iron table heated on a tripod ; they put into it some oats, and this bread, which in the form of cakes they call haraan, they a ribbon, and if married, they have a napkin on the head in
even those living in towns, have for their head-dress only eat with great draughts of buttermilk. Their beer is very good, and the eau de vie, which they call brandovin (brandy) comes only to their breasts, and when they are engaged in
the manner of the Egyptians. The body of their gowns excellent. The butter, the beef, and the mutton, are better work, they gird their petticoat with their sash about the abthan in England. The towns are built in the English fashion, but the houses colour (couleur minime ] of which the cape is of coarse woollen
domen. They wear a hat and mantle very large, of a brown in the country are in this manner :-Two stakes are fixed in frize, in the fashion of the women of Lower Normandy." the ground, across which is a transverse pole to support two rows of rafters on the two sides, which are covered with leaves and straw. The cabins are of another fashion. There are four walls the height of a man, supporting rafters over
BARBARITY OF THE LAW IN IRELAND A CENTURY AGO. which they thatch with straw and leaves. They are without “ Last week, at the assizes of Kilkenny, a fellow who was to chimneys, and make the fire in the middle of the hut, which be tried for robbery, not pleading, a jury was appointed to greatly incommodes those who are not fond of smoke. The try whether he was wilfully mute, or by the hands of God; castles or houses of the nobility consist of four walls ex- and they giving a verdict that he was wilfully mute, he was tremely high, thatched with straw; but, to tell the truth, they condemned to be pressed to death. He accordingly suffered are nothing but square towers without windows, or at least on Wednesday, pursuant to his sentence, which was as folhaving such small apertures as to give no more light than lows:- That the
criminal shall be confined in some low dark there is in a prison. They have little furniture, and cover room, where he shall be laid on his back, with no covering their rooms with rushes, of which they make their beds in except round his loins, and shall have as much weight laid summer,
and of straw in winter. They put the rushes a foot | upon him as he can bear, and more; that he shall have no.