Ancient and modern Sketches of the County Westmeath: historical, traditional, and legendary

Front matter

■pcieitt anfr lllokn SHietcJjes COUNTY WESTMEATH: HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL, AND LEGENDARY. ay .) A M E S WOODS. ley keep a record the true-hearted, Who fell with thj they had vowed to maintain . They show us bright shadows of glory departed, jrerw cold. ■, rain. Fexjtces Browse. VOL. I. DUBLIN: PRINTED BY W. J. ALLEY & CO., , CAPEL STREET, 1890. PRICE ONE SHILLING. RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE (&%xWH &ann unb Jpogjitm or PAIR WESTMEATH. indent anfr ffMertt S^fteft^ OF THE COUNTY WESTMEATH: HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL, AND LEGENDARY. BY JAMES WOODS. For they keep a record of those, the true-hearted, Who fell with the cause they had vowed to maintain ; They show us bright shadows of glory departed, Of love that grew cold, and the hope that was vain. Feajtces Bbowne. VOL. I. DUBLIN: PRINTED BY W. J. ALLEY & CO., RYDER'S ROW, CAPEL STREET 1890.

CONTENTS, PAGE Kilkenny West ........ 1 Old Lough Ree ....... 1 Tim Sharkey's Dream . . . . . . .2 Hare Island ........ 4 St, Kieran ........ 5 St. Kieran's Well : A Legend of Hallow-E'en ... si Mucknagh ........ 8 Paddy Brannigan's Married Life ..... 8 Lough Ree and its Isles . . . . , . .10 Moohdheen Chalke . . . . . . . 13 Legend of Lough Reo ....... 14 Legend of Innishoftin . . . . . . IB Innismore ........ 18 The Dillons of Kilkenny West . . ' . . 18 Lord Roscommon . . . . ... ,20 Bethlem ........ 21 Sweet Auburn ........ 23 Oliver Goldsmith ....... 23 Pastors of Kilkenny West ...... 29 Drumraney : Ancient References . . . . . 31 A Legend of St. Enan ....... 31 Noughaval or Tang ....... 34 Monastery of Ardnacranuy ...... 35 Father Dillon and the Priest-Hunters .... 3si Pastors of Drumraney — The Poot Leo — Leafy Tang . .37 Bhrnlo ........ 40 Mr. Slator ........ 41 Raparee ......' . 43 Legend of Jack Mulnix ...... 44 The Plan of Campaign ...... 45 Ballymahon — Cornet O'Brien and the Orange Magistrates . 46 Abbey shrule . . . . . . . .47 Ballymore : Ancient and Modern ..... 49 Mullaghcloe . . . . . . . .50 St. Patrick and the Blackthorn ..... 50 The Castle of Ballymore — Father Mooney's Imprisonment and Escape from the Castle — The Siege — The Monastery ... 51 Legend of Tubber Cormac Well . . . . 5si How Ancient Ballymore was Destroyed .... 58 Temple Lynn — Killare — Putchuckhawn . . . .58 The Pastors of Ballymore ...... 59 Ballinacargy — Kilbixy — Sir Henry Piers' Account of it in 1680 .

CO Logend of St. Bigseach's Well ..... 62 Tristernagh Abbey ....... 63 The Piers Family — Sir John Piers and Lord Cloncurry . . 64 The Corpnu ........ 66 Templecross . . . . . . : . 67 The Monks of Old ... .68 Legend of Priest-park ...... fi8 Legend of Lough Iron ....... 69 The Malones of Baronstown— Sir Anthony Malone Outwitted . 7-' The Tuites of Soona ....... 73 Ballinacroighy — Joe Rigney — Water Street ...

Preface

. IT is a source of regret that many localities in fair Westmeath, which have been rendered sacred by the lives of distinguished or holy personages, religious institutions, and remarkable events, which should hold prominent places in the memories of West meath men, are utterly forgotten, perhaps despised or desecrated. The desire of visiting places which have been the scenes of memorable events, the birthplaces or dwellings of remarkable men, where philosophers have taught, sages and saints meditated and prayed, or poets sung, is one of the most general and invariable of human feelings, and is interwoven with the best sympathies of our nature. No man ever yet stood and meditated upon a spot sacred in his memory and his feelings without appreciating more fully than before the events of which it had been the scene, without feeling, although it might only be momentarily, his love and veneration for the old land increase, his patriotism grow warmer, and his hatred of oppression was stronger.

To assist in awakening such feelings and associations in the hearts and minds of my fellow-countrymen, I have undertaken the publication of the " Local Sketches," which were so favourably received by the readers of the Westmeath Examiner ; and the success or failure of the little work depends on their generosity for support. JAMES WOODS. Ballymore. anb fyketcljez OF THE COUNTY WESTMEATH, KILKENNY WEST, OR TUBBERCLARE. |||§IKKENNY WEST, or, as it is commonly called, Tubber «pT| clare, is situated in the western extremity of Westmeath, jggjfe atld is bounded on the west by the Shannon. It derives its name from St. Canice, who lived about the middle of the sixth century, and is called aster him, Cill-Chainnigh. The Four Masters state that St. Canice died in 518. Adamsran, in his life of St. Columbkill, written in the seventh century, has the following passage : — "St. Columbkill being in the monastery, Avhich is called in Latin, com pulns bovis {i.e., the field of the cow), but in Irish, Achea-bow (Achaboe in the Queen's County)."

A large portion of Tubberclare parish is truly picturesque and romantic. Old Lough Ree, with its numerous islands, rich in historic association, and full of glorious traditions of the past, stretches for miles from Athlone to Lanesboro', and is a favourite haunt for the angler and antiquarian. Innisboffin, Inchmore, Hare Island, and Saint's Island, what memories do they not recall, — saints and sages, poets and bards, warriors and scholars, who frequented its shores and enjoyed the hospitality of the pious recluse, who, far from the vanities of life, practised austerities, and kept the faith alive, despite tyrannic statutes, the bribe, and the halter. Kilkenny West. A monasteey was erected here about the middle of the sixth century by St. Canice, which was called after him, Cill-Chainnigh, and from which the parish and barony derive its name.

After the Anglo-Norman invasion the noble family of Dillon became possessed of vast property iu this neighbourhood ; and in the thirteenth century the Rev. Thomas Dillon, son to Henry, Lord of Drumraney, founded at Kilkenny West a monastery for Crucifix or Crossbearers, a branch of the Canons Regular of St. AiUgustine, which he placed under the patronage of St. John the Baptist. From this to the period of its suppression, in the .time of Henry YIIL, the house of Dillon patronised this priory. ■2 Very many of its members joined the community, and frequently were elected by the fraternity to govern the same. The prior paid one mark annually proxies to the bishop of Meath, and in 1335 the grand priory of Kilmainham, near Dublin, had an exempt hospital in this town, and probably in this priory (King, p. 75).

On the 2nd of May, the 11th year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, this monastery with all its appurtenances, with twelve messuages and two cantreds of land in Kilkenny, one cantred in Britlass, and all their tithes, were granted to Robert Dillon in capite, at the annual rent of £22 Os. lOd. (Aud-Gen). Many members of the noble house of Dillon are interred here. The abbey walls were torn down, and the old church was uprooted to make way for the present Protestant house of worship. There is a mortuary chapel in the graveyard, which measures nineteen feet by twelve feet, over the entrance of which is a stone with the following quaint inscription : — Within this chapel lieth the body of the secular priests, Father Christy Dillon and Father Peter Dillon, Died in the year 1678 ; Christy in the year 1685.

The debris of ruined castles and monastic edifices are profusely scattered about this neighbourhood. There is a holy well in the locality dedicated to St. Canice. In old times the festival was celebrated on the 11th of October. There are many legends in connection with this old well, one of which I shall endeavour to relate — Tim Shakket's Dream. Tim Sharkey was a peasant boy, who lived near the holy weU. He was hale and hearty, and the son of a widow. In common with the peasantry of his time, he religiously believed in ghosts and fairies. Like the renowned Darby Kenny, of baUad-lore notoriety, he was always dreaming about gold ; asleep or awake his thoughts were about money. The fine ould yolla sav rins that wor hid by the ould Irish jintry and rich farmers in Crumwell's time and the wars iv Ireland.

Tim had a great aversion to red-haired people, particularly women ; he firmly believed that all the misfortune that befeU the human race, since the fall of Adam, was clearly traceable to the malig nant influence of red-haired people ; and he even went so far as to say that Eve had a red head. One morning Tim arose from his couch apparently in elated spirits. The time was summer, and the skylark was warbling its early lay, warning laggards that it was time to be ' up and doing.' After making the usual ablution, he called his mother and told her he had grand news for her. Shure he had a dhrame last night that ud make him and aU belongin' to him up for ever. He was brakin' his heart all his life workin' for nothin' wid the farmers j shure last night after he lay down, and after he fell asleep, he began to dhrame about the ould monastery, the ould castle of the Dillons, and the ould well, and he was wondering where they could have hid all the money.

Well, at that very minute a woman ruz up out iv the ground ; she had a red head, and every hair iv hers was jist lek a harrow pin, and her nose was as big as the coulther iv a plough. ' The top iv the mornin' to ye.' sez she, 'but yer up early; still dhramin' about goold.' ' I am, in troth.,' sez Tim, ' shure a thrifle iv id ud sarve a poor man.' 'Well,' sez she. ' ye wor always runnin' down red-haired people, but they're not as bad as you think ; ye know the divil is painted blacker than he is.' 'Now,' sez she, 'Tim Sharkey, the whole ground about here has crocks iv goold buried under it that wor hid at the time ivthe Danes, so the people that hid it wor kilt, so iv ye jist dig away here, ye'U be weU paid for yer time ; but mind ye, there's a life to be lost, but iv ye got a black cat and have it whin the danger comes on, ye'll be all right, and anything I can do for ye I will; but mind, the cat can't have a tingle spot iv white on it — can ye get one T ' I can, in troth,' replied Tim. ' Shure there's one at the priest's, and shure I hope id wont be a sin to steal id whin id's for a good purpose, goin' to take a poor boy and his mother out iv poverty.' ' Not the least harm in the world,' sez the red ould hag. ' Now, Tim, listen to what I say — to-morrow night go over to the little hill near the well, and jist under it begin to dig, and yo'll soon find what yer dhramin' about ; and mind, have the black cat, and above all, no one must see ye, bekase that ud spile all; so bannalh lath.' The joy of the old woman on hearing that her son was about to become the possessor of incalculable crocks of gold, the hoardings of the princely family of Dillon, was unbounded. ' Shure no gintleman iv the counthy ud have half as much money as he would, and sure enough id's the girls ud be breakin' their necks afther him ; but sarra farmer's daughter he'd marry, bekase they made little iv him whin he was poor, but now he could afford to look down on thim.' Tim's first duty was to obtain the black cat ; he told his mother that he was sure if he asked the priest for it he would give it, but the old woman reminded him that if he got it honest the charm might be broken.

For tunately for our hero's plans, there was a neighbour of his sick in the locality, and this afforded him the desired opportunity of abstracting the cat. After giving the name of the sick person to the priest's housekeeper, who was to be attended, and warning her that the case was urgent, she went in search of his reverence, and during her absence Tim thrust his sable feline friend into a bag and quietly retired with his prey. The shades of evening were beginning to descend when Tim emerged from his cabin to go digging for gold. He was provided with a spade, crowbar, a bottle of poteen, and the black cat. His heart was buoyant ; before another sun rose to brighten and gladden the universe, he would be the richest man in the parish. Arrived at the spot indicated by the old hag, he commenced opera tions.

The night was unusually fine, not a sound disturbed the solemn and death-like silence save the shrill scream of the bittern, the occasional bark of a watch-dog, the hooting of the owl through the ruins of the old monas tery, and the murmuring of the waters of a little rivulet that lay at some distance from the scene of his labours. Tim worked away with great courage and perseverance, and after three hours' severe toil the crowbar struck something hard, which he discovered to be a square flag with a ring fastened in the centre of it. With some difficulty he removed it, and to his joy and astonishment he found that it concealed a stone stairs that led into a cave beneath the little hill already alluded to. What an important moment for poor Tim, gold galore to no end. The dreams of youth and manhood were about being realised — crocks of rale ould yolla goold, the rale savrins that wor hid to purvent Crumwell and his sojers gettin' thim, were almost within his grasp.

After taking a drop of poteen, and wishing success to his undertaking, he descended the stone stairs, bringing with him the cat in case of danger. Having got to the bottom he let the cat out of the bag to shift for itself, and he endeavoured to grope his way along the rugged walls of the cave. After a few minutes the creaking of a door grated on his ear, and almost immediately the sound of merry voices resounded with the shout, ' Welcome, poor pussy !' Encouraged with the cheerful sounds, Tim -walked on as weU as the darkness would permit, and in a few seconds he was standing in a splendid apartment, brilliantly illuminated surrounded on all sides by a merry troop of fairy admirers, who welcomed him to their castle. Amazed and bewildered, poor Tim stood petrified, be was unable to move or utter a word, but fortunately for him an old gentle man with spectacles, and a gold watch as big as a turnip, took his hand and .said, ■ Cead mille failtha, Tim Sharkey, troth id's a cure for sore eyes to see vou down here ; troth iv we'd a lock iv green rishes we'd shake thim undher Ver feet.

We're very thankful to ve for the black cat ye brought us, it s jist the very thing we wanted, bekase the rats are beginnin' to brake in on us ; bhud, tare and ages, how are all the naybors overhead V ' Purty well, thank yer honour,' replied Tim, 'bhud shure the times are bad.' 'Well, Tim, sez he, ' our ould charwoman, Kitty Cuffe, the one wid the red head, says that yer always dhramin' iv crocks iv goold ; well yer jist in the place there i . nty.' With that he opened a door and showed the delighted Tim about 11 thousand crocks full of the real yellow metal, and says he, 'Whin yer gom' I'll give ye tin crocks, and that'll do ye for a long time ; and whin yer short ve know where to come to for more.' Supper was prepared for Tim on a sumptuous scalo, such as he had never before witnessed ; the liquor was the best quality he ever tasted ; and the enchanting strains of the music played by his mysterious entertainers rayished the senses of the peasant boy.

Mated in spirits, and labouring under the genial influence of poteen punch, Tim danced and sung for the amusement of Ms gay and merry friends. The following morning Mrs. Sharkey, who remained up all night, feeling uneasy about the return of her son, went in search of him, and found him lying on the side of the little hill fast asleep, with the crowbar and spade, the empty bottle that contained the poteen, and the bag that contained the cat, beside him, and some broken crockery ware scattered about ; gold, silver, ur bronze there were none. On making inquiry it was ascertained that the cat found its way back to its kind owner. There were no traces of Tim'* digging after his three hours' dehing; the green turf appeared untouched, with the daisies and other wild flowers of nature growing on it, although he was prepared to swear that he dug a hole large enough to swaUow a country cabin.

Haee Island. Haee Island, anciently called Inis-Aingin, is situated in Lough Ree, near the Shannon. A monastery was founded here about the year 542, by St. Kieran, who, to distinguish himself from other saints of his name, is usually called Son of the Artificer, patron of Clonmacnoise. This great saint was born in the ancient kingdom of Meath, received his early education under St. Justus, one of St. Patrick's disciples, and then entered the celebrated school of Clonard, where he graduated for some years under the iearned sounder of St. Finian. From Clonard he went to the monastery of St. Nonnidius, in Lough Erne, and subsequently we find him in the great monastery of St. Enda, in the Isle of Arran, Galway Bay, whither he went to improve himself in the knowledge and practice of monastic discipline.

At the expira tion of seven years he entered St. Senan's Abbey of Inisheathy, whence he removed to Hare Island, where he erected a monastery, which was soon filled with holy monks. He governed Inis- Aingin for six years, and then founded the celebrated monastery of Clonmacnoise, which iu after years became one of tire most famous of our Irish religious foundations. He died on the Uth of September, a.d. 548, aged 33, and was buried iu the church of Clonmacnoise. Before St. Kieran left Hare Island for Clon macnoise, he placed over his monastery a Munsterman named Donan or Adonnan, who governed here for several years. The festival of St. Donan is marked in the Martyrology of Tallaght, at 7th of January. In the Martyrology of Donegal, at January 7th, we have the following notice of St. Donan : — "Donnan, priest of Inish-Aingin, in Lohgh-Ribhe.' In the calendar of Irish saints we find the following reference to St. Kieran : — " He had selected as his final choice the monastery of St. Enda, in the Isle of Arran, in Galway Bay, but his future destiny was foreshadowed to him in a vision, which revealed to him the greatness of the establishment with which he was to be identified.

In a dream he beheld a beautiful young tree, which grew in the island, torn up by the roots, carried to the centre of Ireland, and planted on the bank of the great river, whence it sent forth its branches and covered nearly half of the island. St. Enda interpreted the vision, and told his disciples to go forth in obedience to the dictate of Heaven. They erected a cross in sign of perpetual brotherhood between themselves and their communities." On the banks of the Shannon, within a few miles of Athlone, St. Kieran founded his establishment, and a rough glance at the index of any Irish annals shows what a great space it tills in the Irish Church history, and how well it realised the vision of it-; founder. It vied in celebrity with the greatest of St. Columba's institutions, and is repeatedly said to have had nearly half of Ireland tributary to it.

St. Kieran is cited in the Paschal Controversy as one of the fathers of the Irish Church. He was also one of the eight founders of the monastic institute in Ireland. His relics were preserved at Clonmacnoise until the Reformation ; the pillage and desecration of his church at that time by the soldier reformers of Henry VIII. are still vividly remembered in the neighbourhood. His festival is observed on the 9th of September, on which day numerous pilgrims still visit Clonmacnoise. The two round towers and seven churches still existing there arrest the attention of the traveller, and prove that the ancient grandeur of the establishment cannot be unworthy of the great fame (Calendar, pp. 118, 119). The ruins of Clonmacnoise still stand a few miles from Athlone, on the Shannon. Its site was on and between a range of small hills, flanked by extensive morasses, and fronted by the river.

St. Kieran, it i^ said, first designed its erection, and the greatest nobles of Ireland vied with each other in contributing to its completion. O'Melaghlin, prince of Meath, founded Temple Reigh ; The O'Conor Don founded the temple called from his name ; Temple O'Kelly bears the name of another chief ; Temple Finian was built by M'C'arthy More ; and Temple M'Dermott by M'Dermott Besides these were four or five other churches, and not far a .capacious nunnery ; two round towers and a large cemetery, and a circle of crosses, to which pilgrims resorted on the 9 th of September to perform their devotions, and the dwellings of the religious and students completed this famous seat of piety and learning. St. Kieran's Well: a Legend or Hallow-E'en. All Hallow-Eve, AU Hallow-Eve, Busy and brisk blows the wintry wind, Softly whisper the fallen leaf.

With which the moss-grown roads are lin'd. 'Neath the moon's light, ere looks like morn, Boldly waits the rising 6un, Coming to kiss with crimson lips Night's dewy globules, one by one — Oh, 'tis the night for maids to prove Whether be true or false their love, And many a heart will quickly beat As Sabian's magic spells ate wove. Three brave young merry maidens, Now merry as maids can he, And carefully shrouded in dark blue cloaks, Cry out all breathlessly — ' We'll by the road, to the old ruined church, And visit St. Kieran's well ; No fear to-night, for the moon's light WiU guide us safely through brake and dellr And there be sure we wiU divine, Perhaps by sound, perhaps by sign, When or where, or e'en if ever, Our bridal wreaths we may entwine.' These gay and innocent maidens Were all most purely fair and young, Their hearts' wild mirth, welled up to-night, And rippled upon their tongue ; Like music swelled their joyous hearts, As if miracles now to pass ; They lightly talk whilst their naked feet Press the cold November grass.

Courageous Eveline who dares AU things a. mystic mirror bears, In which the moon will truly tell In shadows her virginal years. Sweet Bridget had some rhymes to say, And Maggie seeds to sow, Which in a loved initial would Ere morning take root and grow ; But Kathleen, modest maiden, Only meant to look on when she prayed At the northern cross by St. Kieran's church To implore the good saint's aid, For one away, beloved and true. Alas ! the maiden little knew, From o'er the sea where cold he lay. How Sabian's wind to-night his dead dust blew. They near the church, and at the northern cross For a while young Kathleen kneels, Then one by one with holy awe Round the old church each one steals ; How quick and strong their young hearts beat As down the slopes' steep side they dash, Whose verdure leads to the sainted spring 'Neath the shade of an hoary ash ; The noblest grown or ever seen, In size surpassing all I ween, A canopy fitting a pilgrim's shrine When it spreads its branches green.

The young girls now close crouch together, And silently move along, Lest they might start the bespeckled trout Which ever these waters throng ; Then from the brink of St. Kieran's weU They move the moist weeds away, While many a secret wish they breathe, And many a love rhyme say. And 'tis said from the murmuring spring That up bubbles a murmuring ring On which was written the strange device — ' These words to the grave I bring.' Though all mirth lies hushed within their hearts, The maids have courage still, To try for whose finger tapering fair Came this omen of iU ; Too large for Nell, for Bridget too small, Poor Kathleen tries at last, When, lo ! the fatal ring slips on, Fitting her wedding finger fast. Now faintly breathed and broken Are the words of anguish spoken As they wind their way to their cottage home Bearing with them the awful token.

All Hallow-Eve, All Hallow-Eve, Drearily blows the wintry wind, Ghost-like rustle the skeleton leaf With which the moss-grown roads are lin'd ; The harvest moon broke pale and cold, Half-wise hiding behind a cloud, Her shadow covers each trembling tree With a gray and misty shroud ; Break an ominous warning sound, The woods re-echo aU around, A raven's croak as on he flies 'Mid air o'er the humid ground. Sweet Kathleen pined, sweet Kathleen died ; To the old cross where she made her tryst, Bridget and Nell with grief-stricken hearts Bore her to her chiUy rest. Old matrons tell the legend hour With solemn shaking of the head, Well they knew on that fatal night Kathleen crossed the dust of the dead ; They heard far off a low deep knell, Slowly tolled from the churchyard bell, When by ivied arch and ruined church She walked that night to St. Kieran's well.

Mtjcknagh. Mucknagh is a wild expanse of country bordering on the Shannon, and its inhabitants are a hardy race. Its principal productions are peat and heather ; and some time ago one of the tenants remarked to the Land Commissioners, " that had they inspected the land there from November to March they would be sure to grant good abatements, as the ground was sub merged four mouths in the year." The people of Mucknagh have a decided aversion to landlords and agents, and they look on the payment of rent as unjust and unconstitutional. In the Autumn of '85 an enterprising agent of Mr. DeCourcy Ireland, a fellow not acquainted with the depth of Irish bogholes, binn ing to distinguish himself, had the hardihood to visit the locality, armed with threats and parchment, to overawe the good people of the semi-aqueous territory, but he paid the penalty of his rashness by having himself dragged through every boghole in the district, to the great amusement and edification of all true lovers of law and order.

Paddy Brannigan's Married Life. Paddy Brannigan was a citizen of Mucknagh ; in addition to turf-cutting, he devoted much of his time to catching fish. He was a light-hearted fellow, fond of all sorts of sport, and was to be found at all sportive and festive gatherings. He could handle a kippeeu and crack a cranium as handy as any one in the parish. Paddy had a great t»ste for law. Humphrey's Petty Sessions was his prayer book anel guide in all matters, spiritual and temporal, and he was looked on as a regular " Tom Touchy." He never had a pound but he devoted one third of it to law ; the same amount on strong liquor ; and the balance on the wants of life. He believed and inculcated that no man could lead a pure and holy life, or be at peace with God or his neighbour, unless he had law at least twice a year at the quarter sessions of Moate, and twelve time9 at the petty sessions of Brawney, as Glasson court was then unknown.

Paddy had a great hatred of all henpecked husbands, and was continually advising all those who were subject to their wives to assert their supremacy and to revolt against female domination. Whenever Paddy attacked the victims of female rule he was met with the reply, " Everyone can countermand a scoulding wife but those that has them." Brannigan lived a bachelor life for a few years beyond the period aUoted for happy unions, when suddenly he became enamoured with a young lady in Athlone, the daughter of an humble trader, to whom he used to sell turf. The fair one, before entering into the connubial state, was warned of his strange peculiarities, but nothing daunted, she declared that he might come on, and that she would run a coach-and-four through all his law and Acts of Parliament. In due time the marriage was solemnized, and Paddy, with much ceremony, conducted his bride to the classic region of Mucknagh. where she was to be a pattern of mUdness and obedience for all the good wives of the parish, to her husband.

For a time all things went on well, Acts of Parliament and threats of pains and penalties were left on the hob as useless lumber, but peace was short-lived, before the honeymoon expired the hollow truce was broken, and Mrs. Brannigan appeared in her true colour — a real termagant — Her tongue went glibly all day long, Sweet contradiction still her song, And all that poor Paddy did was wrong And ill done. A truce without doors or within, From speeches long as statesmen spin, Or rest from her eternal din He found not. He ev'ry soothing art displayed, Tired of what stuff her skin was made ; Failing in all to Heav'n he prayed To take her. Paddy would often indulge in a lonely soliloquy — ' Shure I was the happiest Paddy out afore I marrid, sarra haporth I had to consarn me, bhud now I'm fixed at last, afther all my boastin' about how I'd civilize a wdeked wife iv I had her ; troth I think it's a jist judgment fell on me for the way I used to be humbuggin' poor Jack Slattery about his bitter half, Biddy.