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diff --git a/old/54712-0.txt b/old/54712-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 43476ff..0000000 --- a/old/54712-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1659 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 30, -January 23, 1841, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 30, January 23, 1841 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: May 12, 2017 [EBook #54712] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, JAN 23, 1841 *** - - - - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - - - - - - - - - - - THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL. - - NUMBER 30. SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1841. VOLUME I. - -[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF MONEA, COUNTY OF FERMANAGH.] - -The Castle of Monea or Castletown-Monea--properly _Magh an fhiaidh_, i.e. -the plain of the deer--is situated in the parish of Devinish, county -of Fermanagh, and about five miles north-west of Enniskillen. Like the -Castle of Tully, in the same county, of which we gave a view in a recent -number, this castle affords a good example of the class of castellated -residences erected on the great plantation of Ulster by the British and -Scottish undertakers, in obedience to the fourth article concerning the -English and Scottish undertakers, who “are to plant their portions with -English and inland-Scottish tenants,” which was imposed upon them by -“the orders and conditions to be observed by the undertakers upon the -distribution and plantation of the escheated lands in Ulster,” in 1608. -By this article it was provided that “every undertaker of the _greatest -proportion_ of two thousand acres shall, within two years after the date -of his letters patent, build thereupon a castle, with a strong court or -bawn about it; and every undertaker of the second or _middle proportion_ -of fifteen hundred acres shall within the same time build a stone or -brick house thereupon, with a strong court or bawn about it. And every -undertaker of the _least proportion_ of one thousand acres shall within -the same time make thereupon a strong court or bawn at least; and all the -said undertakers shall cause their tenants to build houses for themselves -and their families, near the principal castle, house, or bawn, for their -mutual defence or strength,” &c. - -Such was the origin of most of the castles and villages now existing in -the six escheated counties of Ulster--historical memorials of a vast -political movement--and among the rest this of Monea, which was the -castle of the _middle proportion_ of Dirrinefogher, of which Sir Robert -Hamilton was the first patentee. - -From Pynnar’s Survey of Ulster, made in 1618-19, it appears that this -proportion had at that time passed into the possession of Malcolm -Hamilton (who was afterwards archbishop of Cashel), by whom the castle -was erected, though the bawn, as prescribed by the conditions, was not -added till some years later. He says, - - “Upon this proportion there is a strong castle of lime and - stone, being fifty-four feet long and twenty feet broad, but - hath no bawn unto it, nor any other defence for the succouring - or relieving of his tenants.” - -From an inquisition taken at Monea in 1630, we find, however, that this -want was soon after supplied, and that the castle, which was fifty feet -in height, was surrounded by a wall nine feet in height and three hundred -in circuit. - -The Malcolm Hamilton noticed by Pynnar as possessor of “the middle -proportion of Dirrinefogher,” subsequently held the rectory of Devenish, -which he retained _in commendam_ with his archbishopric till his death -in 1629. The proportion of Dirrinefogher, however, with its castle, -was escheated to the crown in 1630; and shortly after, the old chapel -of Monea was converted into a parish church, the original church being -inconveniently situated on an island of Lough Erne. - -Monea Castle served as a chief place of refuge to the English and -Scottish settlers of the vicinity during the rebellion of 1641, and, -like the Castle of Tully, it has its tales of horror recorded in story; -but we shall not uselessly drag them to light. The village of Monea is -an inconsiderable one, but there are several gentlemen’s seats in its -neighbourhood, and the scenery around it is of great richness and beauty. - - P. - - - - -ON THE SUBJUGATION OF ANIMALS BY MEANS OF CHARMS, INCANTATIONS, OR DRUGS. - -FIRST ARTICLE. - -ON SERPENT-CHARMING, AS PRACTISED BY THE JUGGLERS OF ASIA. - - -Many of my readers will doubtless recollect that in a paper on “Animal -Taming,” which appeared some weeks back in the pages of this Journal, I -alluded slightly to the _charming_ of animals, or _taming_ them by spells -or drugs. It is now my purpose to enter more fully upon this subject, -and present my readers with a brief notice of what I have been able to -glean respecting it, as well from the published accounts of remarkable -travellers, as from oral descriptions received from personal friends -of my own, who had opportunities of being eye witnesses to many of the -practices to which I refer. - -The most remarkable, and also the most ancient description of -animal-charming with which we are acquainted, is that which consists in -calling the venomous serpents from their holes, quelling their fury, and -allaying their irritation, by means of certain charms, amongst which -music stands forth in the most prominent position, though, whether it -really is worthy of the first place as an actual agent, or is only thus -put forward to cover that on which the true secret depends, is by no -means perfectly clear. - -Even in scripture we find the practice of serpent-charming noticed, -and by no means as a novelty; in the 58th Psalm we are told that the -wicked are like the “deaf adder that stoppeth her ear, which hearkeneth -not unto the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely!” And in -the book of Jeremiah, chap. viii, the disobedient people are thus -threatened--“Behold, I will send serpents, cockatrices, among you, which -will not be _charmed_.” These are two very remarkable passages, and I -think we may, without going too far, set down as snake-charmers the -Egyptian magi who contended against Moses and Aaron before the court of -the proud and vacillating Pharaoh, striving to imitate by their juggling -tricks the wondrous miracles which Moses wrought by the immediate aid -of God himself. The feat of changing their sticks into serpents, for -instance, is one of every-day performance in India, which a friend of -mine has assured me he many times saw himself, and which has not been -satisfactorily explained by any one. - -The serpent has long been an object of extreme veneration to the natives -of Hindostan, and has indeed, from the very earliest ages, been selected -by many nations as an object of worship; why, I cannot explain, unless -it originated in a superstitious perversion of the elevation of the -brazen serpent in the wilderness by Moses. In India the serpent is not, -however, altogether regarded as a deity--merely as a _demon_ or genius: -and the office usually supposed to be peculiar to these creatures is that -of _guardians_. This is perhaps one of the most widely spread notions -respecting the serpent that we are acquainted with. Herodotus mentions -the sacred serpents which guarded the citadel of Athens, and which he -states to have been fed monthly with cakes of honey; and adds, that -these serpents being sacred, were harmless, and would not hurt men. A -dragon was said to have guarded the golden fleece (or, as some think, a -_scaly serpent_), and protected the gardens of the Hesperides--a singular -coincidence, as it is of _gardens_ principally that the Indians conceive -the serpent to be the guardian. - -Medea _charmed_ the dragon by the melody of her voice. Herodotus -mentions snakes being soothed by harmony; and Virgil, in the Æneid, says -(translated by Dryden), - - “His wand and holy words the viper’s rage - And venom’d wound of serpents could assuage.” - -Even our own island, although serpents do not exist in it--a blessing -for which, if we are to put faith in legendary lore, we have to thank St -Patrick--has numberless legends and tales of crocks of treasure at the -bottom of deep, deep lakes, or in dark and gloomy caves, in inaccessible -and rocky mountains, guarded by a fierce and wakeful snake, a sleepless -serpent, whose eyes are never closed, and who never for a second abated -of his watchful care of the treasure-crock, of which he had originally -been appointed guardian;[1] and, further, we are told how the daring and -inventive genius of the son of Erin has often found out a mode of putting -a “_comether_” on the “big sarpint, the villain,” and haply closing his -eyes in slumber, while he succeeded in possessing himself of the hoard -which by his cunning and bravery he had so fairly won; in other words, -_charming_ the snake and possessing himself of the spoil. - -Having thus glanced at the antiquity and wide spread of serpent-charming, -I shall proceed to lay before you a short description of the mode in -which the spell is cast over the animals by the modern jugglers of Arabia -and India. - -Of all the Indian serpents, next to the Cobra Minelle, the Cobra Capella, -or hooded snake (_Coluber Naja_), called in India the “Naig,” and also -“spectacle snake,” is the most venomous. It derives its names of _hooded_ -and _spectacle_ snake from a fold of skin resembling a hood near the -head, which it possesses a power of enlarging or contracting at pleasure; -and in the centre of this hood are seen, when it is distended, black and -white markings, bearing no distant or fanciful likeness to a pair of -spectacles. The mode of charming, or, at all events, all that is to be -seen or understood by the spectators, consists in the juggler playing -upon a flute or fife near the hole which a snake has been seen to enter, -or which his employers have otherwise reason to suppose the reptile -inhabits. The serpent will presently put forth his head, a portion of his -body will shortly follow, and in a few minutes he will creep forth from -his retreat, and, approaching the musician, rear himself on his tail, -and by moving his head and neck up and down or from side to side, keep -tolerably accurate time to the tune with which his ears are ravished. - -After having played for a short period, and apparently soothed the -reptile into a state of dreamy unconsciousness of all that is passing, -save only the harmony which delights him, the juggler will gradually -bring himself within grasp of the snake, and by a sudden snatch seize -him by the tail, and hold him out at arms’ length. On the cessation of -the music, and on finding himself thus roughly assailed, the reptile -becomes fearfully enraged, and exerts all his energies to turn upwards, -and bite the arm of his aggressor. His efforts are however fruitless; -while held in that position, he is utterly incapable of doing any injury; -and is, after having been held thus for a few minutes before the gaze -of the admiring crowd, dropped into a basket ready to receive him, and -laid aside until the juggler has leisure and privacy to complete the -subjugation which his wonder-working melody had begun. - -When charmed serpents are exhibited dancing to the sound of music, the -spectators should not crowd too closely around the seat of the juggler, -for, no matter how well trained they may be, there is great danger -attending the cessation of the sweet sounds; and if from any cause the -flute or fife suddenly stops or is checked, it not unfrequently happens -that the snake will spring upon some one of the company, and bite him. -I think that it will not be amiss if I quote the description of Indian -snake-charming, furnished by a gentleman in the Honourable Company’s -civil service at Madras, to the writer, who vouches for its veracity:-- - -“One morning,” says he, “as I sat at breakfast, I heard a loud noise and -shouting among my palankeen bearers. On inquiry I learned that they had -seen a large hooded snake (or Cobra Capella), and were trying to kill -it. I immediately went out, and saw the snake climbing up a very high -green mound, whence it escaped into a hole in an old wall of an ancient -fortification. The men were armed with their sticks, which they always -carry in their hands, and had attempted in vain to kill the reptile, -which had eluded their pursuit, and in his hole he had coiled himself -up secure, while we could see his bright eyes shining. I had often -desired to ascertain the truth of the report as to the effect of music -upon snakes: I therefore inquired for a snake catcher. I was told there -was no person of the kind in the village, but, after a little inquiry I -heard there was one in a village distant three miles. I accordingly sent -for him, keeping a strict watch over the snake, which never attempted -to escape whilst we his enemies were in sight. About an hour elapsed, -when my messenger returned, bringing the snake catcher. This man wore no -covering on his head, nor any on his person, excepting a small piece of -cloth round his loins: he had in his hands two baskets, one containing -tame snakes, one empty: these and his musical pipe were the only things -he had with him. I made the snake catcher leave his two baskets on the -ground at some distance, while he ascended the mound with his pipe alone. -He began to play: at the sound of the music the snake came gradually and -slowly out of his hole. When he was entirely within reach, the snake -catcher seized him dexterously by the tail, and held him thus at arms’ -length, whilst the enraged snake darted his head in all directions, but -in vain: thus suspended, he has not the power to round himself so as to -seize hold of his tormentor. He exhausted himself in vain exertions, when -the snake catcher descended the bank, dropped him into the empty basket, -and closed the lid: he then began to play, and after a short time raised -the lid of the basket, when the snake darted about wildly, and attempted -to escape; the lid was shut down again quickly, the music always playing. -This was repeated two or three times; and in a very short interval, the -lid being raised, the snake sat on his tail, opened his hood, and danced -quite as quietly as the tame snakes in the other basket, nor did he again -attempt to escape. This, having witnessed it with my own eyes, I can -assert as a fact.” - -I particularly request the attention of my readers to the foregoing -account, as, from the circumstance of its having been furnished by an -eye-witness, and a man whose public station and known character were -sufficient to command belief in his veracity, it will prove serviceable -to me by and bye, when I shall endeavour to disprove the ridiculous -assertions of Abbé Dubois[2] and others, who hold that serpent-charming -is a mere imposition, and assert, certainly without a shade of warranty -for so doing, that the serpents are in these cases always previously -tamed, and deprived of their poison bags and fangs, when they are let -loose in certain situations for the purpose of being artfully caught -again, and represented as _wild_ snakes, subdued by the charms of their -pipe. I shall, however, say no more at present of Dubois, Denon, or -others who are sceptical on this subject, but shall leave the refutation -of their fanciful opinions to another opportunity--my present purpose -being the establishment of _facts_, ere I venture to advance a theory. - -I shall therefore conclude my present paper, and in my next, besides -adducing many other important facts relative to serpent-charming, shall -endeavour to throw some light upon the real mode by which it is effected. - - H. D. R. - -[1] See numerous legends of the “Peiste.” - -[2] Description of the People of India, p. 469. - - - - -GRUMBLING. - - -If it be no part of the English constitution, it is certainly part of -the constitution of Englishmen to grumble. They cannot help it, even if -they tried; not that they ever do try, quite the reverse, but they could -not help grumbling if they tried ever so much. A true-born Englishman is -born grumbling. He grumbles at the light, because it dazzles his eyes, -and he grumbles at the darkness, because it takes away the light. He -grumbles when he is hungry, because he wants to eat; he grumbles when he -is full, because he can eat no more. He grumbles at the winter, because -it is cold; he grumbles at the summer, because it is hot; and he grumbles -at spring and autumn, because they are neither hot nor cold. He grumbles -at the past, because it is gone; he grumbles at the future, because it -is not come; and he grumbles at the present, because it is neither the -past nor the future. He grumbles at law, because it restrains him; and -he grumbles at liberty, because it does not restrain others. He grumbles -at all the elements--fire, water, earth, and air. He grumbles at fire, -because it is so dear; at water, because it is so foul; at the earth, in -all its combinations of mud, dust, bricks, and sand; and at the air, in -all its conditions of hot or cold, wet or dry. All the world seems as if -it were made for nothing else than to plague Englishmen, and set them -a-grumbling. The Englishman must grumble at nature for its rudeness, and -at art for its innovation; at what is old, because he is tired of it; and -at what is new, because he is not used to it. He grumbles at everything -that is to be grumbled at; and when there is nothing to grumble at, he -grumbles at that. Grumbling cleaves to him in all the departments of -life; when he is well, he grumbles at the cook; and when he is ill, he -grumbles at the doctor and nurse. He grumbles in his amusements, and he -grumbles in his devotion; at the theatres he grumbles at the players, -and at church he grumbles at the parson. He cannot for the life of him -enjoy a day’s pleasure without grumbling. He grumbles at his enemies, and -he grumbles at his friends. He grumbles at all the animal creation, at -horses when he rides on them, at dogs when he shoots with them, at birds -when he misses them, at pigs when they squeak, at asses when they bray, -at geese when they cackle, and at peacocks when they scream. He is always -on the look-out for something to grumble at; he reads the newspapers, -that he may grumble at public affairs; his eyes are always open to look -for abominations; he is always pricking up his ears to detect discords, -and snuffing up the air to find stinks. Can you insult an Englishman -more than by telling him he has nothing to grumble at? Can you by any -possibility inflict a greater injury upon him than by convincing him he -has no occasion to grumble? Break his head, and he will forget it; pick -his pocket, and he will forgive it, but deprive him of his privilege of -grumbling, you more than kill him--you expatriate him. But the beauty of -it is, you cannot inflict this injury on him; you cannot by all the logic -ever invented, or by all the arguments that ever were uttered, convince -an Englishman that he has nothing to grumble at; for if you were to do -so, he would grumble at you so long as he lived for disturbing his old -associations. Grumbling is a pleasure which we all enjoy more or less, -but none, or but few, enjoy it in all the perfection and completeness of -which it is capable. If we were to take a little more pains, we should -find, that having no occasion to grumble, we should have cause to grumble -at everything. But we grow insensible to a great many annoyances, and -accustomed to a great many evils, and think nothing of them. What a -tremendous noise there is in the city, of carts, coaches, drays, waggons, -barrel-organs, fish-women, and all manner of abominations, of which -they in the city take scarcely any notice at all! How badly are all -matters in government and administration conducted! What very bad bread -do the bakers make! What very bad meat do the butchers kill! In a word, -what is there in the whole compass of existence that is good? What is -there in human character that is as it should be? Are we not justified -in grumbling at everything that is in heaven above, or in the earth -beneath, or in the waters under the earth? In fact, gentle reader, is the -world formed or governed half so well as you or I could form or govern -it?--_From a newspaper._ - - - - -VULGARITY. - - -The very essence of vulgarity, after all, consists merely in one -error--in taking manners, actions, words, opinions, on trust from -others, without examining one’s own feelings, or weighing the merits of -the case. It is coarseness or shallowness of taste, arising from want -of individual refinement, together with the confidence and presumption -inspired by example and numbers. It may be defined to be a prostitution -of the mind or body to ape the more or less obvious defects of others, -because by so doing we shall secure the suffrages of those we associate -with. To affect a gesture, an opinion, a phrase, because it is the rage -with a large number of persons, or to hold it in abhorrence because -another set of persons very little, if at all, better informed, cry -it down to distinguish themselves from the former, is in either case -equal vulgarity and absurdity. A thing is not vulgar merely because it -is common. It is common to breathe, to see, to feel, to live. Nothing -is vulgar that is natural, spontaneous, unavoidable. Grossness is not -vulgarity, ignorance is not vulgarity, awkwardness is not vulgarity; -but all these become vulgar when they are affected and shown off on the -authority of others, or to fall in with the fashion or the company we -keep. Caliban is coarse enough, but surely he is not vulgar. We might as -well spurn the clod under our feet, and call it vulgar. Cobbett is coarse -enough, but he is not vulgar. He does not belong to the herd. Nothing -real, nothing original, can be vulgar; but I should think an imitator of -Cobbett a vulgar man. Simplicity is not vulgarity; but the looking to -imitation or affectation of any sort for distinction is. A Cockney is a -vulgar character, whose imagination cannot wander beyond the suburbs of -the metropolis. An aristocrat, also, who is always thinking of the High -Street, Edinburgh, is vulgar. We want a name for this last character. An -opinion is often vulgar that is stewed in the rank breath of the rabble; -but it is not a bit purer or more refined for having passed through the -well-cleansed teeth of a whole court. The inherent vulgarity lies in the -having no other feeling on any subject than the crude, blind, headlong, -gregarious notion acquired by sympathy with the mixed multitude, or with -a fastidious minority, who are just as insensible to the real truth, -and as indifferent to every thing but their own frivolous pretensions. -The upper are not wiser than the lower orders, because they resolve to -differ from them. The fashionable have the advantage of the unfashionable -in nothing but the fashion. The true vulgar are the persons who have -a horrible dread of daring to differ from their clique--the herd of -pretenders to what they do not feel, and to do what is not natural to -them, whether in high or low life. To belong to any class, to move in -any rank or sphere of life, is not a very exclusive distinction or test -of refinement. Refinement will in all classes be the exception, not the -rule; and the exception may occur in one class as well as another. A -king is but a man with a hereditary title. A nobleman is only one of the -House of Peers. To be a knight or alderman--above all, to desire being -either, is confessedly a vulgar thing. The king made Walter Scott a -baronet, but not all the power of the Three Estates could make another -“Author of Waverley.” Princes, heroes, are often commonplace people, and -sometimes the reverse; Hamlet was not a vulgar character, neither was Don -Quixote. To be an author, to be a painter, one of the many, is nothing. -It is a trick, it is a trade. Nay, to be a member of the Royal Academy, -or a Fellow of the Royal Society, is but a vulgar distinction. But to -be a Virgil, a Milton, a Raphael, a Claude, is what falls to the lot of -humanity but once. I do not think those were vulgar people, though, for -any thing I know to the contrary, the First Lord of the Bedchamber may -be a very vulgar man. Such are pretty much my notions with regard to -vulgarity.--_Hazlitt’s Table-Talk._ - - - - -WINTER COMES. - - - Winter comes with screech and wail, - Piercing blast and thundering gale; - Far from frozen climes he brings - Sleet and snow, and blanching things. - He has trod the North Pole round, - Long in icy fetters bound; - Swept by Greenland’s frigid shore, - Where the western billows roar-- - Roamed o’er Lapland’s ice-bound plains, - Where chaotic darkness reigns; - Rested on that land of woe - Where the Russian captives go; - Land where men of royal race, - Exiled by some tyrant base, - Pined in suffering, died in grief, - No fond hand to bring relief-- - No bright eyes to shed one tear - O’er their cold and lonely bier; - Dying far from wife and child - In Siberia’s stormy wild. - - Winter comes--his footsteps tread - O’er the ocean’s rugged bed; - As a ruthless conqueror he - Sends his storms from sea to sea; - Pity ne’er hath seized his breast, - Sighs do ne’er disturb his rest-- - Shrieks that boom along the wave, - And mark the seaman’s wat’ry grave, - Fail to touch his icy soul, - Fail to stop the billow’s roll. - When enthroned as ocean’s king, - Spirits of his triumphs sing, - Drinking to his sovereign power - In the fearful midnight hour, - From those remnants of the dead - That round ocean’s depths are spread. - - Winter comes, with giant stride - O’er the hills and forests wide; - From his aged brow he sheds - Hoary locks around their heads-- - Mantles in his polar garb - Tree and flower and tender herb. - Not a leaf appears to show - Where the summer cowslips grow; - Not a bud or blossom fair - Scents with sweets the chilly air; - Not a bluebell decks the heath, - All are hid beneath the wreath - Spread by his unfriendly hand - O’er the dark dismantled land. - Gardens once so bright and gay, - ’Neath the summer’s solar ray, - Once so rich in lovely gems, - Hanging on their pendent stems, - Seem as some lone desert wild - Where fair beauty never smiled-- - Where the light of summer’s sun - Never touched or lit upon; - Nature lies all lone and dead, - ’Neath old Winter’s frosty tread. - - Winter comes, and some rejoice, - Glad to hear his sullen voice - Booming o’er the crested waves, - Sounding through old grots and caves-- - Sighing ’mid the forest trees, - Not in songs of summer’s breeze, - But like mournings for the dead, - That as fairy flowers have fled; - Mounting o’er the mountain’s brow, - Where the oak-tree’s trembling bough, - Rushing through the wooded glen, - Swooping o’er the frightsome fen. - This is joy to hearts that know - Nothing of the drifting snow, - But beside the glowing hearth - Spend the hours in joy and mirth, - Laughing at the well-told tale, - While without the rising gale - Sweeps in furious mood along, - Heedless of their boisterous song. - - Winter comes--and sorrow brings - On his dark foreboding wings, - To the poor lone helpless child - On whom fortune never smiled, - To the wretched cots and cells - Where want’s abject sufferer dwells. - Round them he does cast his reins, - O’er them brings his woes and pains. - O! ye lordlings of the earth, - Freed from pinching want by birth, - Let your bosoms heave one sigh - For the poor whose piercing cry - Calls for sympathy from all, - Loud as human woes can call, - Plead with you on every mind - To be moved with mercy kind; - Supplicates for help to save - Suffering equals from the grave. - Hear, O hear their melting cries - Rising upward to the skies; - Hear, and let the good which heaven - Kindly to your hands hath given, - Aid in promptly helping those - Steept in poverty and woes; - Then when earthly days are fled, - And the joys (now dark and dead) - Cease for ever from your eyes, - May you live beyond the skies; - May you hear your Saviour say, - Come, my servants, come away; - Enter in and seize your crown, - Be partakers of my throne; - For on earth you loved your lord; - Hearken’d to his every word-- - Heard his suffering children cry, - Wiped the tear-drops from their eye-- - Inasmuch as thus your love, - Round their troubled souls did move, - So to me that love was given - Enter in with me to heaven. - - Coleraine, December 1840. S. A. - - - - -TALES OF MY CHILDHOOD, BY JOHN KEEGAN. - -No. I.--THE BOCCOUGH RUADH. - -A TRADITION OF POOR-MAN’S BRIDGE. - - “When ghosts, as cottage maids believe, - Their pebbled beds permitted leave, - And goblins haunt, from fire or fen, - Or mine or flood, the walks of men.”----COLLINS. - - -One evening last winter--a holiday evening too--when the western wind was -sweeping on wild pinions from the grey hills of Tipperary, athwart the -rich and level plains of the Queen’s County, when the blast roared down -in the chimney, and the huge rain-drops pattered saucily against the four -tiny panes which constituted the little kitchen window, I was sitting in -the cottage of a neighbouring peasant, amid a small but happy group of -village rustics, and enjoying with them that enlivening mirth and sinless -delight which I have never found any where but at the fireside of an -Irish peasant. The earthen floor was well scrubbed over; the “brullaws -ov furnithure” were arranged with more than usual tidiness, and even the -crockery on the well-scoured dresser reflected the ruddy glare of the red -fire with redoubled brilliancy, and glittered and glistened as merrily as -if they felt conscious of the calm and tranquillity of that happy scene. -And happy indeed was that scene, and happy was that time, and happier -still the hearts of the laughing rustics by whom I was on that occasion -surrounded, and amongst whom I have spent the lightest and happiest hours -of my existence. - -It was, as I said, a wild night, but even the violence of the weather -abroad gave an additional relish to the enjoyments within. The blast -whistled fiercely in the bawn and in the haggard, but the huge fire -blazed brightly on the hearth-stone. The rain fell in torrents; but, as -one of the company chucklingly remarked, “the wrong side ov the house was -out,” and I myself mentally exclaimed with Tam o’ Shanter, - - “The storm without may roar and rustle, - _We_ do not mind the storm a whustle.” - -Whilst, to wind up the climax of our happiness, a gossoon who had been -dispatched for a grey-beard full of “the native,” now returned, and -in a few minutes a huge jug of half and half smoked on the table, and -was circulated around the smiling and expectant ring, with an impetus -of which the peasantry of Ireland will in a short time, from certain -existing causes, have not even the remotest idea. - -Well! such an evening as we had, I shall never forget; it would be vain -to attempt a description. Those who have witnessed similar scenes require -none, and to those who have not, any attempt at one would be useless. -All therefore I shall say, is, that such a scene of fun and frolic and -harmless waggery could not be found any where outside that ring which -encircles the Emerald Isle, and even within that bright zone, nowhere but -in the cabin of an Irish “scullogue.” - -The songs of our sires, chanted with all that melancholy softness and -pathetic sweetness for which the voices of our wild Irish girls are -remarkable, the wild legend recited with that rich brogue and waggish -humour peculiar alone to the Irish peasant, and the romantic and absurd -fairy tale, told with all the reverential awe and caution which the -solemnity of the subject required, long amused and excited the captivated -auditors; but at length, more’s the pity, the vocalist could sing no -more, having “a mighty great could intirely.” The story-teller was “as -dry as a chip wid all he talked,” and even the sides of most of the -company “war ready to split wid the rale dint of laughin’;” whilst, as if -to afford us another illustration of the truth of the old proverb, “one -trouble never comes alone,” even the old crone who had astonished us with -the richness and extent of her fairy lore, was also knocked up, or rather -knocked _down_, for the quantity of earthly _spirits_ she had put _in_, -entirely put _out_ all memory of _un_-earthly _spirits_, and sent her -disordered fancy, all confused as it was, wool-gathering to the classic -regions of _Their-na-noge_.[3] - -Well, what was to be done? It was still young in the night, and, better -than that, a good “slug” still remained in the grey-beard, and as we all -had contributed to procure the stock, so all declared that none should -depart until the very last drop was drained. But how was the interval to -be employed? The singer was hushed, the story-teller was exhausted, and -vollies of wit and waggery had exploded until every one was tired; yet to -remain silent was considered by all as the highest degree of discomfort. -In this dilemma the man of the house scratched his pericranium, and, as -acting by some sudden impulse, started up and handed me an old sooty -book, “hoping that I would read a wollume for the edication of the -company, until it would be time to retire.” - -I agreed without hesitation, and on opening the dusty and smoke-begrimed -volume found that it was “Sir Charles Coote’s Statistical Survey of -the Queen’s County,” printed in Dublin by Graisberry and Campbell, and -published by direction of the Dublin Society in the year 1801. Although -well aware that the dry details of a work professedly and almost -exclusively statistical, were little calculated to amuse or interest -_such_ an audience, yet, as the library of an Irish peasant is always -unfortunately scanty, and in this instance, with the exception of a few -trifling works on religious subjects, limited to the book in question, I -determined to make the best I could of it, and for that purpose opened -it at Sir Charles’s description of the immediate district in which we -were situated, namely, the barony of Maryborough West, and town-land of -Killeany. I read on thus:--“On Sir Allen Johnson’s estate stand the ruins -of Killeany Castle; the walls are injudiciously built of very bad stones, -though excellent quarry is contiguous. … Poor-man’s Bridge over the Nore -was lately widened, and is very safe, but I cannot learn the tradition -why it was so called.” - -“Read that again, sir,” said a fine grey-headed, patriarchal old man who -was present; “read that again,” said he emphatically. I did so. - -“_He_ cannot learn the tradition of Poor-man’s Bridge, _inagh_!” said the -old man with a sneer; “faith, I believe not; I’d take his word for more -nor that. But had he come to me when he was travelling the country making -up his statisticks, I could open his eyes on that subject, and many -others too.” - -Some of those present laughed outright at the old man’s gravity of manner -as he made this confident boast. - -“You need not laugh--you may shut your potato-traps,” said the old man -indignantly. “Grand as he was, with his gold and silver, his coach and -horses, and servants with gold and scarlet livery, I could enlighten him -more on the ancient history and traditions of our country than all the -_boddaghs_ of squireens whom he visited on his tour through the Queen’s -County.” - -These assertions served only to increase the storm of ridicule which was -gathering around the old man’s head; and to put a stop to any bad blood -which the occasion might call forth, I requested of him to tell us the -tradition of “the Boccough Ruadh.” - -After some wheedling and flattery he complied, and told a curious story, -of which the following is the substance. - -The river Nore flows through a district of the Queen’s County celebrated -for fertility and romantic beauty. From its source amongst the blue hills -of Slievebloom to its termination at New Ross, where its bright ripples -commingle with the briny billows of the Irish sea, many excellent and -even some beautiful bridges span its stream. Until the commencement of -the last century, however, except in the vicinity of towns, there were -but few permanent bridges across this river, and in the country districts -access was gained over it chiefly by means of causeways, or, as they are -termed, “foords,” constructed of stones and huge blocks of timber fixed -firmly in the bed of the river, and extending in irregular succession -from bank to bank. Over this pathway foot passengers crossed easily -enough, but cattle and wheeled carriages were obliged to struggle through -the water as well as they could; but in time of floods, and in the winter -season when the waters were swollen, all communication was cut off except -to pedestrians alone. - -One of those “foords,” in former times, crossed the Nore at Shanahoe, a -very pretty neighbourhood, about three miles northwards of the beautiful -and rising town of Abbeyleix, in the Queen’s County. The river here winds -its course through a silent glen, and now several snug cottages and -farm-houses arise above its banks at either side. The country in this -neighbourhood is remarkably beautiful. Several gentlemen’s seats are -scattered along the banks of the river in this vicinity, all elegant and -of modern erection, whilst swelling hills, sloping dales, gloomy groves, -and ruins of church and tower and “castle grey,” ornament and diversify -the scene. - -On a gentle eminence on the eastern bank of the river, stood, about a -hundred years ago, the cabin of a man named Neale O’Shea. At that period -there was not another dwelling within a long distance of the “foord,” -and many a time was Neale summoned from his midnight repose to guide the -traveller in his passage over the lonely and dangerous river pathway. - -One wild stormy December night, when the huge limestone rocks that formed -the stepping-stones of the ford were lashed and chafed by the angry foam -of the agitated river, Neale O’Shea’s wife fancied she heard, amid the -fitful pausings of the wind, the cry of some mortal in distress. She -immediately aroused her husband, who was stretched asleep on a large -oak stool in the chimney corner, and told him to look out. Neale, ever -willing to relieve a fellow-creature, arose, and, flinging his grey -“trusty” over his expansive shoulders, and seizing a long iron-shod pole -or wattle, the constant companion of his nightly excursions, hastened -down to the river’s brink. He stood a moment at the verge of the ford, -and tried to penetrate through the intense gloom, to see if he could -discover a human form, but he could see nothing. - -“Is there any one there?” he shouted in a stentorian voice, which rose -high above the whistling of the blast, and the brawling of the angry and -swift-rushing river. - -A voice sounded at the other extremity of the ford, and the stout-hearted -peasant, with steady step, crossed over the slippery stepping-stones. - -“Who the devil are you?” roughly exclaimed Neale to a man who lay -extended on the brink of the river, convenient to the entrance of the -ford. - -“Whoever I am,” faintly replied the stranger, “you are my good angel, -and it was surely Providence who sent you this night to rescue me from a -watery grave.” - -“Whoever you are,” again said Neale, “come along with me, and Kathleen -and the childre will make you welcome in my cabin until morning.” -So saying, he seized the bending form of the wayworn stranger, and -flinging him on his back with herculean strength, trudged over the -stepping-stones, chuckling with delight, and gaily whistling as he went. - -The dangerous pass was soon crossed, and arriving at the door, Neale -pushed it before him, and with a smile deposited his trembling burthen -on the warm hearth. A fine fire blazed merrily, and its flickering -beams fell brightly on the face of the stranger. He was a tall, portly -figure, stooped as if from extreme suffering more than age, and had a -wooden leg. His features, which had evidently been handsome in his youth, -were worn, pale, and attenuated, and he might be about fifty years of -age. His clothes were faded and ragged; he was entirely without shoes -or stockings; and his head was covered by a broad-brimmed leathern hat, -under which he wore an enormous red nightcap of coarse woollen cloth. - -The good Kathleen now set about preparing supper, and while thus -employed, the stranger gave them a brief account of his bygone life. -He told them that he was a native of the north of Ireland, and that -he had spent several years of his youth at sea; that being wounded -in a fray with smugglers on the coast of France, and losing his leg, -he was discharged from his employment, and sent adrift on the world, -without having one friend on earth, or a penny in his pocket. In this -exigence he had no alternative but to apply to the commiseration of his -fellow-creatures, and had thus for the last twenty years wandered up and -down, entirely dependent on the bounty and charity of the public. - -Supper was now ready, and having partaken of a comfortable meal, the -wanderer went to rest in a comfortable “shake-down,” which the good woman -had prepared for him in the chimney corner. The storm died away during -the night, and next morning the watery beams of the winter’s sun shone -faintly yet gaily on the smooth surface of the silvery Nore. - -The stranger was up at sunrise, and was preparing to depart, but his kind -host and hostess would not permit him to go. They told him to stop a few -days to rest himself, and in the interim, that he could not do better -than take his stand at the ford, and ask alms of those who passed the -way, as a great many frequented that pass; and as nothing was ever craved -from them there, they would cheerfully extend their charity to an object -worthy of relief. - -Acting on their suggestions, the old sailor was soon sitting on a stone -at the western extremity of the ford. With his old caubeen in his hand, -and his head enveloped in the gigantic red nightcap, he craved alms, -in the name of God and the Virgin, from all who passed the way; and -before the sickly beams of the December sun had sunk behind the conical -“Gizebo,” he could show more money than ever he did before, since his -limb was swept off by the shot of the smuggling Frenchman. - -The next morning, and every morning after, found the sailor at his post -at the ford: he soon became well known to all the villagers, and from the -circumstance of his always appearing with no other head-gear than the red -nightcap, they nicknamed him the “Boccough Ruadh,”[4] a name by which he -went ever after till his death. - -Time passed on as usual, and the one-legged sailor still plied his -lucrative vocation at the river pass. Neale O’Shea’s cabin still -continued to afford him shelter every night, and all his days, from the -crow of the cock to the vesper song of the wood-thrush, were passed at -the ford, seated on that remarkable block of limestone called to this day -the “Clough-na-Boccough.”[5] His hand was stretched to every stranger -for alms, “for the good of their souls,” and very few passed without -giving more or less to the Boccough Ruadh. Thus he acquired considerable -sums of money, but constantly denied having a “keenogue;” but when -bantered by any of the neighbouring urchins on the length of his purse, -he would get into a great rage, and swear, by the cross of his crutch, -that between buying the shough of tobacco and paying for other things he -wanted, he hadn’t as much as would jingle on a tomb-stone, or what would -buy a farthing candle to show light to his poor corpse at the last day. -His food was of the very worst description, and unless supplied by the -kind-hearted Kathleen O’Shea, he would sooner go to bed supperless than -lay out one penny to buy bread. He suffered his clothes to go to rags, -unless when any person in the neighbourhood would give him old clothes -for charity, and he would not pay for soap to wash his shirt once in the -twelvemonth. Yet no one could find out what he did with his money; he did -not spend two-and-sixpence in the year, and it was people’s opinion that -he was hoarding it up to give for the benefit of his soul at his dying -day. - -Years rolled away, and Neale O’Shea having now waxed old, died, and -was gathered to his fathers in the adjacent green churchyard of -Shannikill,[6] on the banks of the winding Nore. The Boccough followed -the remains of his kind benefactor to his last earthly resting-place, -and poured his sorrows over his grave in loud and long-continued -lamentations. But though Neale was gone, Kathleen remained, and she -promised that while she lived, neither son nor daughter should ever turn -out the Boccough Ruadh. - -It was now forty years since the Boccough first crossed the waters of -the Nore, and still he was constantly to be found from morning till -night on his favourite stone at the river side. In the mean time, all -O’Shea’s children were married, and separated through various parts of -the country, with the exception of Terry, the youngest, a fine stout -fellow, now about thirty-five years of age, who still remained in a state -of single blessedness, and said he would continue so, “until he would -be after laying the last sod on his poor ould mother.” With gigantic -strength, he inherited all his father’s kindness of heart and undaunted -bravery, and he was particularly attentive to the Boccough, whom he -regarded with the same affection as a child would a parent. - -One morning in summer, the Boccough was observed to remain in bed longer -than was his custom, and thinking that he might be unwell, Terry went to -his bedside, and demanded why he was not up as usual. - -“Ah, Terry, _alanna_,” said the old man sorrowfully, “I will never get up -again until I do upon the bearer.[7] My days are spent, and I know it, -for there is something over me that I cannot describe, and I won’t be -alive in twenty-four hours;” and as he said these words, he heaved a deep -groan, whilst Terry, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, wept -bitterly. - -“Will I go for the priest?” demanded Terry, sobbing as if his heart would -break. - -“No,” replied the old man sorrowfully, “I do not want him. It is long -since I complied with my religious duties, and now I feel it is useless.” - -“There is mercy still,” replied Terry; “you know the ould sayin’, - - ‘Mercy craved and mercy found - Between the saddle and the ground.’” - -The old man replied not, but shook his head, indicating his determination -to die without the consolations of religion, whilst Terry trembled for -his hopeless situation. - -“Well, since you won’t have the priest, will you give me some money till -I bring you the doctor?” said Terry. - -The old man’s eyes literally flashed fire, his form heaved with rage, and -his countenance displayed demoniac indignation. - -“What’s that you say?” he demanded in a ferocious tone. - -Terry repeated the question. - -“Send for a doctor!--give you money!” echoed the old man. “Where the -devil would I get money to pay a doctor?” - -“You have it, and ten times as much,” said Terry, “and you cannot deny -it.” - -“If I have as much money as would buy me a coffin,” said the Boccough, -“may my soul never rest quiet in the grave.” - -Terry crossed his brow with terror. He knew the unhappy wretch was dying -with a lie on his tongue, but he resolved not to press the matter further. - -“You are dying as fast as you can,” remarked Terry; “have you any thing -to say before you go?” - -“Nothing,” replied he faintly. “But let me be buried with my red nightcap -on me.” - -“Your wish must be granted,” said Terry, and he went to awake his old -mother, who still lay asleep. When he returned, he found the old man -breathing his last. He uttered a convulsive groan, and expired. - -He was washed and stretched, and waked, with all the honours, rites, -and ceremonies belonging to a genuine Irish wake; and on the third day -following, being the Sabbath, he was followed to the grave by crowds of -the village peasantry, who remained in the churchyard until they saw his -remains deposited, as they thought for ever, in the rank soil of the -“City of the Dead.” - -Many rumours were now current respecting the Boccough’s money. Every one -but Terry believed that the “lob” fell with Terry himself. But Terry, who -knew better, believed and affirmed that “what was got under the devil’s -belly, always goes over his back,” and that the “old boy” had taken the -spoil, and that it lay concealed in some crevice in the bank of the river. - -The night following the burial of the old sailor was passed in a very -disturbed and agitated manner by Terry O’Shea: he could not sleep a wink; -and when he fell into a slumber, he started and moaned, and appeared -frightened and annoyed. - -“What ails you?” affectionately demanded his old mother, who slept in the -same room, and who was kept awake by her son’s restless and disturbed -manner. - -“I don’t know, mother,” said Terry; “I am so frightened and tormented -with dreaming of the Boccough Ruadh, that I am almost out of my natural -senses. Even at this moment I think I see him walking the room before me.” - -“Holy Mary, protect us!” ejaculated the old woman. “And it is no wonder -that his misforthunate soul would be star-gazing about--and to die -without the priest, and a curse and a lie in his mouth!” - -Terry groaned agitatedly. - -“And how does he appear in your dreams?” asked the old woman. - -“As he always was,” replied Terry. “But I think I see him pointing to his -red nightcap, and endeavouring to pull it off with his old withered hand.” - -“Umph!” said the old woman, in a knowing tone. “Ha! ha! I have it now. -Are you sure that the strings of his nightcap were unloosed before he was -nailed up in the coffin?” - -“I don’t know,” was the reply. - -“I’ll go bail they weren’t,” said the old woman; “and you know, or at any -rate you ought to know, that a corpse can never rest in the grave when -there is a knot or a tie upon any thing belonging to its grave-dress.” - -Terry emitted another deep groan. - -“Well, _acushla_,” said the old mother, “go to-morrow, and take a -neighbour with you, and open the grave, and see if any thing be asthray. -If you find the nightcap or any thing else not as it should be, set it to -rights, and close the grave again decently, and he will trouble you no -more.” - -“God send,” was Terry’s brief but emphatic response. - -Early next morning Terry was at the Boccough’s grave, accompanied by a -man of the neighbourhood. The coffin was opened, the corpse examined, -and, according to the mother’s prediction, the red nightcap was found -knotted tightly under the dead man’s chin. Terry proceeded to unloosen -it, and in the act of doing so, a corner of the nightcap gave way, and -out peeped a shining golden guinea. - -“Ah ha!” mentally exclaimed Terry, “that’s no blind nut any how; there’s -more where that was, but I had better keep a hard cheek!” So, without -seeming to appear any way affected, he opened the knot, closed the -coffin, shut up the grave, and departed homewards, without acquainting -his comrade with what he had seen. - -The moment Terry entered his own door, he told his mother about the -guinea, and expressed his determination to go that very night, and fetch -the red nightcap home with him, “body and bones and all,” “for,” added -he, “that guinea has its comrade; and I’ll hold you a halfpenny there’s -where the old dog has the ‘lob’ concealed, and that’s what made him order -me to have the red cap buried with him.” - -“_Asthore machree_,” said the mother doubtingly, “won’t you be afraid?” - -“Afraid!” echoed Terry, “devil a bit--afraid indeed! and my fortune -perhaps in the red nightcap.” - -The mother consented, but enjoined him to tell nobody about the matter -for fear of disappointment. Terry vowed implicit obedience, and retired -to his usual avocations in the garden. - -Well, at last the night came, and Terry set about preparing for his -strange undertaking. All the arts and prayers and charms of old Kathleen -were put in requisition to preserve him from danger; and about the -witching hour of twelve, with his spade on his shoulder, and his dhudeen -in his mouth, the bold-hearted Terry set forward all alone to the -grave-yard, shaping his course by the winding banks of the glassy river, -and whistling as he went--not “for want of thought,” however, for never -was man’s mind more busily occupied than was Terry’s, in predisposing of -the money which he expected to find in the Boccough Ruadh’s nightcap. - -After a short walk, Terry arrived at the precincts of the churchyard. -It was a lovely summer’s night, the full moon shining gloriously, and -myriads of pretty stars blinking and twinkling in the blue expanse, but -all their native lustre was drowned in the borrowed splendour of the -Queen of Heaven. Terry stood a moment to reconnoitre, and, resting on his -spade, looked around with an anxious gaze. He could discover nothing; all -was silent as the departed beneath his feet, except the murmuring of the -river’s surges in the rear, or the barking of some village cur-dog in the -hazy distance. He advanced to the grave of the Boccough, and in a few -minutes the ghastly moonbeams shone full on the pale grim features of the -dead. He snatched the nightcap quickly from the bald head of the corpse, -put it in his pocket, and, notwithstanding the awe and superhuman terror -under which he laboured, he chuckled with delight as he remarked the -“_dead_ weight” of the Boccough’s head-gear. He then closed the coffin, -and as he proceeded to cover it, the clay and stones fell on it with an -appalling and unearthly sound. The grave now covered up, the intrepid -fellow again shouldered his spade, and sought the river’s margin, and as -he strode hurriedly along its banks in the direction of his home, the -splash of the otter and the diving of the water-hen more than once broke -the thread of his lonely musings. - -Terry was soon at his mother’s side, who since his departure had been on -her knees, praying for his safe return. The nightcap was ripped up, and -lo! three hundred golden guineas were the reward of Terry’s churchyard -adventure! Stitched carefully in every part of the huge nightcap, the -gold lay secure, so as not to attract the notice of any one, or cause the -least suspicion of its proximity to the old man’s pericranium. - -Terry and his mother were in ecstacies. Farms were already purchased -in ideality, cattle bought, houses built, and even Terry began in his -mind to make preparations for his wedding with Onny Kinshellagh, a rich -farmer’s daughter of the neighbourhood, for whom he had breathed many a -hopeless sigh, and who, in addition to her beauty, was possessed of fifty -pounds in hard gold, a couple of good yearlings, and a feather-bed as -broad as the “nine acres.” - -The mother and son retired to bed, as happy as the certain possession -of wealth, and the almost as certain expectations of honour and -distinction, could make them. After a long time spent in constructing and -condemning schemes for the future, Terry fell asleep. He had not slept -long, however, when he started up with a loud scream, crying out, “the -Boccough! the Boccough!” “Och, weary’s on him for a Boccough!” exclaimed -the mother; “is he coming for the nightcap and the goold?” - -“Oh, no,” said Terry, calmly; “but I was again dreaming of him, and I was -frightened.” - -“What did you dream to-night?” asked the old woman. - -“I was dreaming that I was going over the foord by moonlight, and that I -saw the Boccough walking on the water towards me; that he stopped at a -certain big stone, and began to examine under with his hands; that I came -up, and asked him what he was searching for, when he looked up with a -frightful phiz, and cried out in a horrible voice, ‘For my red nightcap!’” - -“God Almighty never opened one door but he opened two,” exclaimed old -Kathleen. “Examine under that stone to-morrow, and by all the cottoners -in Cork, you’ll find another ‘lob’ of money in it.” - -“Faix, maybe so,” replied Terry; “it’s no harm to say ‘Godsend,’ and that -God may make a thief of you before a _liar_.” - -“Amen, _achiernah_,” replied Kathleen. - -Next morning at daybreak, Terry got up, and proceeded to the identical -stone where he fancied that he had seen the spirit of the Boccough. He -examined it closely, and after a strict search, discovered in the sand -beneath the rock a leathern pouch full of money. He seized it joyfully, -and on counting its contents, found it amounted to upwards of a hundred -pounds, all in silver and copper coins. - -“What a lucky born man you are, Terry O’Shea!” cried the overjoyed -gold-finder, “and what a bright day it was for your family that the -Boccough Ruadh crossed over the waters of the Nore.” - -“It was not a bright day at all, but a wild, gloomy, stormy night,” -said the old woman, who, unperceived, had followed her son to watch the -success of his expedition. - -“No matter for that,” said Terry; “there never was so bright a day in -your seven generations as that dark night; I am now the richest man of my -name, and I would not, this mortal minute, call Lord De Vesci my uncle.” - -It is easier for the reader to imagine than for the writer to describe -the manner in which this joyful day was passed by the happy mother and -son. Now counting and examining the gold, and again proposing plans, and -considering the best purposes to which it could be applied, they passed -the hours until the summer sun had long sunk behind the crimson west. - -Terry was again in bed, when he started with a wild shriek. “Mother of -mercy!” he frantically vociferated, “here is the Boccough Ruadh; I hear -the tramp of his wooden leg on the floor.” - -“Lord save us!” said the old woman in a trembling voice, “what can ail -him now? Maybe it’s more money he has hid somewhere else.” - -“Oh, do you hear how he rattles about! Devil a _kippeen_ in the cabin but -he will destroy,” exclaimed poor Terry. “It’s the black day to us that -ever we seen himself or his dirty thrash of money; and if God saves me -till morning, I’ll go back and lave every rap ov id where I got it.” - -“That would be a murdher to lave so much fine money moulding in the clay, -and so many in want of it; you shall do no such thing,” said the mother. - -“I don’t care a straw for that,” said Terry. “I would not have the ould -sinner, God rest his sowl, stravagin’ every other night about my honest -decent cabin for all the goold in the Queen’s County.” - -“Well, then,” says the old woman, “go to the priest in the morning, and -leave him the money, and let him dispose of it as he likes for the good -of the ould vagabond’s misforthunate soul.” - -This plan was agreed to, and the conversation dropt. The ghost of the -Boccough still rattled and clanked about the house. He never ceased -stumping about, from the kitchen to the room, and from the room to the -kitchen. Pots and pans, plates and pitchers, were tossed here and there; -the dog was kicked, the cat was mauled, and even the raked-up fire was -lashed out of the “gree-sough.” In fact, Terry declared that if the -devil or Captain Rock was about the place, there couldn’t be more noise -than there was that night with the Boccough’s ghost, and this continued -without intermission until the bell of Abbeyleix castle clock was tolling -the midnight hour. - -Terry was up next morning at sunrise, and having packed up the money -which was the cause of all his trouble in his mother’s check apron, -proceeded with a heavy heart to the residence of the priest, about two -miles from the present Poor-man’s Bridge. The priest was not up when -Terry arrived, but being well known to the domestics, he was admitted to -his bed-chamber. - -“You have started early,” said the priest; “what troubles you now, Terry?” - -Terry gave a full and true account of his troubles, and concluded by -telling him that he brought him the money to dispose of it as he thought -best. - -“I won’t have any thing to do with it,” said the Father. “It is not mine, -so you may take it back again the same road.” - -“Not a rap of it will ever go my road again,” said Terry. “Can’t you give -it for his unfortunate ould sowl?” - -“I’ll have no hand in it,” said the priest. - -“Nor I either,” said Terry. “I wouldn’t have the ould miser -_polthogueing_ about my quiet floor another night for the king’s ransom.” - -“Well, take it to your landlord; he is a magistrate, and he will have it -put to some public works connected with the county,” said the priest. - -“Bad luck to the lord or lady I’ll ever take it to,” said Terry, making a -spring, and bounding down the stairs, leaving the money, apron and all, -on the floor at the priest’s bedside. - -“Come back, come back!” shouted the Father in a towering passion. - -“Good morning to your ravirince,” said Terry, as he flew with the -swiftness of a mountain deer over the common before the priest’s door. -“Ay, go back, indeed; catch ould birds with chaff. You have the money -now, and you may make a bog or a dog of it, whichever you plaise.” - -In an hour after, the priest’s servant man was on the road to -Maryborough, mounted on the priest’s own black gelding, with a sealed -parcel containing the Boccough’s money strapped in a portmanteau behind -him, and a letter to the treasurer of the Queen’s County grand jury, -detailing the curious circumstances by which it came into his possession, -and recommending him to convert it to whatever purpose the gentlemen of -the county should deem most expedient. - -The summer assizes came on in a few days, and the matter was brought -before the grand jury, who agreed to expend the money in constructing a -stone bridge over the ford where it was collected. - -Before that day twelvemonth, the ford had disappeared, and a noble bridge -of seven arches spanned the sparkling waters of the Nore, which is here -pretty broad and of considerable depth. From that day to this it is -called the “Poor-man’s Bridge,” and I never cross it without thinking of -the strange circumstances which led to its erection. - -The spirit of the Boccough Ruadh never troubled Terry O’Shea after, but -often, as people say, amid the gloom of a winter’s night, or the grey -haze of a summer’s evening, may the figure of a wan and decrepid old -man with his head enveloped in a red nightcap, be seen wandering about -Poor-man’s Bridge, or walking quite “natural” over the glassy waters of -the transparent Nore. - -[3] That imaginary region under ground, supposed by the peasantry to be -the residence of spirits and fairies. - -[4] The red beggarman. - -[5] Anglice, the Stone of the Cripple, or the stone of the beggarman. -This stone lay for many years in the position it occupied in the days of -the “Boccough,” but is now incorporated in the stonework of the parapet -of the bridge. It was believed to be enchanted, and the peasantry of the -neighbourhood used to affirm that it descended to the river to drink, -every night at the hour of twelve o’clock. This belief is now almost -exploded, but however it is affirmed to be the identical stone on which -the Boccough collected his wealth. - -[6] This is a very ancient churchyard, situated on a gentle eminence -overhanging the western bank of the river Nore, and about half a mile -from Poor-man’s Bridge. The ruins of a church or monastic establishment -still remain in the centre of the grave-yard. It is said to have been -erected by St Comgall, from whom it took the name of Cell-Comgall, though -_now_ called Shankill, or Shannakill. St Comgall was born in Ulster in -516, and was educated under St Fintan, in the monastery of Clonenagh, -near Mountrath, in the Queen’s County. He died on the 10th of May 601. - -[7] The bier or hand-carriage on which the dead are borne to the grave. - - * * * * * - -AN EXCUSE.--Miravaux was one day accosted by a sturdy beggar, who asked -alms of him. “How is this,” inquired Miravaux, “that a lusty fellow like -you is unemployed?” “Ah!” replied the beggar, looking very piteously at -him, “if you did but know how lazy I am!” The reply was so ludicrous and -unexpected, that Miravaux gave the varlet a piece of silver. - - * * * * * - -AN INCIDENT.--At the time Commodore Elliot commanded the navy at Norfolk -(I think it was), happening to be conducting a number of ladies and -gentlemen who were visiting the yard, he chanced to see a little boy who -had a basket full of chips, which he had gathered in the yard; probably -to show his importance he saluted him, and asked where he got the chips. -“In the yard,” replied the boy. “Then drop them,” said the brave man. The -little boy dropped the chips as he was ordered, and after gaining a safe -distance, turning round with his thumb to his nose, said, “That is the -first prize you ever took, any how!” - - * * * * * - -Solon enacted, that children who did not maintain their parents in old -age, when in want, should be branded with infamy, and lose the privilege -of citizens; he, however, excepted from the rule those children whom -their parents had taught no trade, nor provided with other means of -procuring a livelihood. It was a proverb of the Jews, that he who did not -bring up his son to a trade, brought him up as a thief. - - * * * * * - -If there be a lot on earth worthy of envy, it is that of a man, good -and tender-hearted, who beholds his own creation in the happiness -of all those who surround him. Let him who would be happy strive to -encircle himself with happy beings. Let the happiness of his family be -the incessant object of his thoughts. Let him divine the sorrows and -anticipate the wishes of his friends. - - * * * * * - -A cheerful heart paints the world as it finds it, like a sunny landscape; -the morbid mind depicts it like a sterile wilderness, palled with thick -vapours, and dark as “the shadow of death.” It is the mirror, in short, -on which it is caught, which lends to the face of nature the aspect of -its own turbulence or tranquillity. - - * * * * * - -The lazy, the dissipated, and the fearful, should patiently see the -active and the bold pass by them in the course. They must bring down -their pretensions to the level of their talents. Those who have not -energy to work must learn to be humble.--_Sharp’s Essays._ - - * * * * * - - Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at - the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, - College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, - Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street, - Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE, - Birmingham; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS, Leeds; FRASER and CRAWFORD, - George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate, - Glasgow. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. -30, January 23, 1841, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, JAN 23, 1841 *** - -***** This file should be named 54712-0.txt or 54712-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/1/54712/ - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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