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3  1833  03395  3941 

Go    941 . 8B0?    B?1 I     v. 1 
Leadheater ,     Mary,     17B8-1R76. 
The    Leadheater    papers 


X  LIB 


DATE  MiCROFILFi'iEO 
NOV  1  1  fl97 

iTEM  #_.^ 

PROJECT  aric-  G  S. 

— rrr — 


86 


mwui^  # 


[CQ.LLECTION 

^^^^^^c^'  APR  10  1959 


THE 


LEADBEATER  PAPERS: 


A   SELECTION   FROM   THE 


MSS.     AND     CORRESPONDENCE 


MARY    LEADBEATER. 


VOL.  L 

MARY    LEADBEATER'S    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE ; 

WITH   A   MEMOIR  OP   THE    AUTHOR.  r*A^/*irnrV 

GENEALOGICAL  SOCIETY 

OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  JESUS  CHRIST 
,  V  SMonOEntlAlJER-DAY  SAINTS 

V  LONDON : 

BELL    AND    DALDY,    i86,  ,FLEET    STREET. 

^.      VVITHDRAWIM 
^^.         .  ^l?"^  fl^e  Family 


R.    D.   WEBB    AND   SON,    PRINTERS,   DUBLIN. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  I. 

A  Memoir  of  Mary  Leadbeater  __        __  i  to  12 

The  Annals  of  Ballitore,  viz.  : — 

CHAPTER  I. 
1766. 
Preliminary  Reflections. — Description  of  Ballitore  in  prose  and 
verse. — The  first  Abraham  Shackleton, — His  ancient  mansion 
in  Ballitore, — The  forge,  Mick  Murray,  and  his  dentistry. — 
Reminiscences  of  Peter  Widdows. — The  widow  Ta.ylor  and  her 
daughter  Polly,  Sarah  Braddock,  the  widow  Jackson  and  her 
daughter  Julia,  Joseph  Wills,  Jonathan  Haughton,  and  Lee 
Masters  __         __         __         __       .__         _-        13  to  36 

CHAPTER  II. 
1766. 
Sketch  of  the  Annalist's  parents,  Richard  and  Elizabeth  Shack- 
leton.— The  school-house  and  garden. — Elizabeth  Haughton, 
WiUiam  Gill,  and  John  Buckley. — Ballitore  School. — French 
and  Norwegian  pupils. — Story  of  Aldborough  Wrightson. — 
Edmund  Burke  an  "  old  Ballitore  boy." — Anecdotes  of  his 
childhood  and  boyhood — His  subsequent  visits  to  Ballitore. — 
FuUer's  Court,  its  inhabitants  and  its  early  attractions. — No- 
tices of  George  Rooke,  one  of  the  early  Quaker  patriarchs. — 
His  daughter  Rachael,  and  granddaughter  Deborah  Carleton.— 
Tom  and  Sara  Eyre  - _         __         __         __         _-       37  to  68 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    III. 
1769. 

Infant  speculations. — Aunt  Carleton's  pets. — Madam  Keatinge. 
— Introduction  of  boarded  floors.— A  court  of  justice  dissolved 
in  laughter. — An  army  officer  flogged  at  school. — Further  no- 
tices of  the  first  Abraham  Shackleton. — He  visits  Burke  at 
Beaconsfield. — His  last  illness. — Is  visited  by  the  lovely  bride, 
Mary  Watson. — His  death  and  funeral. — Burke's  letter  to 
Richard  Shackleton  on  the  occasion. — James  and  Nanny  Mc 
Connaughty — Vain  sports  and  places  of  diversion. — Sabbath 
breaking. — Mummers  in  BaUitore. — A  fairy  doctor  turns  school- 
master.— Death  of  young  Black  in  the  American  war. — A 
"  second  Tom  Eyre." — Little  David  Skinner.       __       69  to  91 

CHAPTER  IV. 

1772. 
Last  days  of  Aldborough  Wrightson — The  first  Jew  visits  BaUi- 
tore.— He  exhibits  a  mandrake. — Story  of  Lady  Cathcart.- — 
A  mail  coach  accident. — A  father's  blessing. — A  relic  of  the 
penal  laws. — The  "  honourable  "  George. — A  mauvais  sicjet. — 
William  Leadbeater. — Aldworth  Phaire — Marriage  of  Mar- 
garet Shackleton. — Death  of  Aunt  Carleton. — Aldborough 
Wrightson's  grave. — Heroism  of  Arabella  Forbes. — Tom  Eyre 
rebuked  by  a  blockhead. — Richard  and  Elizabeth  Shackleton 
remove  to  the  Retreat.  —Marriage  of  the  second  Abraham 
Shackleton  to  Lydia  Mellor, — Sketch  of  the  bride. — Death  of 
a  "  convinced  Friend."— Birth  of  the  second  Richard  Shack- 
leton.— Lines  addressed  to  the  infant  by  his  grandfather. — 
Molly  Hudson  begins  a  twenty  years'  visit  to  the  Retreat. — 
A  convict  rescued  from  ''the  Duke  of  the  World." — A  tender- 
hearted Judge. — Remmescences  and  anecdotes  of  the  Author's 
parents.       .,  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..         92  to  130 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTEE  V. 

1782. 
Anna  Tavemer  settles  in  Ballitore. — The  wet  summer  of  1782. — 
A  fickle  fair  one. — The  mysterious  Welsh  clergyman. — How 
Wentworth  Mansergh  dreaded  coming  to  school — and  how  he 
changed  his  mind. — A  cautious  swain  and  a  terrible  widow. — 
Major  Dunbar. — "Gazetteer"  Walker  invades  Friends'  burial- 
ground. — The  author  and  her  father  visit  Beaconsfield. — Her 
poem  on  the  occasion,  and  Burke's  reply. — Primitive  "coosins" 
in  Selby. — Eeturn  of  Tom  Eyre  from  the  war.  Death  of  his 
brother  Sam. — Travellers'  tales. — His  ideas  on  the  manage- 
ment of  the  war — and  on  the  march  of  improvement  in  Bal- 
litore.—  He  marries,  and  becomes  a  captain. — The  story  of 
Captain  St.  Clair     __         -_         __         _-         _-     131  to  163 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1785- 
Heavenly  music. — Death  of  Jonathan  and  Elizabeth  Haughton. 
— The  lunatic  cousins. — Reminiscences  of  Burke  and  his  last 
visit  to  Ballitore. — A  dinner  at  Lord  Aldborough's. — Squire 
Keatinge's  noble  bride. — A  domestic  tragedy. — Finlay  McClane 
the  Highland   centenarian. — Alterations   in    the  Mill-field. — 

Death  of  a  schoolboy  and  of  old  William  Gill A  mother's 

grief. — Sally  Shackleton  a  minister.— Death-bed  of  Sally 
Haughton. — A  surgical  shoemaker. — Conformity  to  Quaker- 
ism.— Joshua  and  Molly  Webster. — Cousin  Sam  Carleton. — 
James  Mc  Connaughty  fails  in  business. — A  friend  in  need. — 
Nanny  sees  her  husband's  fetch. — His  death  ensues,  and  her 
bitter  grief. — She  returns  to  service,  and  ends  her  days  in 
peace  __         __         __         __         __         _-     164  to  191 

CHAPTER  VII. 
1791. 

The  author's  marriage David  and  Winifred  Doyle. — Thomas 

Wilkinson.— James   White. — Death  of   Samuel  Neale,  and  of 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Richard  Shackleton. — Letters  of  condolence  from  Edmiind 
Burke  and  Thomas  Wilkinson. — Ballitore  visited  by  a  camel, 
— Prospect  of  emigration  to  France, — Ballitore  Mill  built. — 
Death  of  Job  Scott.— Movement  of  troops,  and  illegal  oaths, — 
Squire  Keatinge  a  colonel. — Jack  Moran's  sick-bed  repent- 
ance.— Death  in  the  snow. — Dick  Miles  and  Jacob  Fuller. — 
Biddy  Murray's  prophecy. — Molly  Haughton's  fowling-piece. 
— Mary  and  Anne  Doyle  settle  in  Ballitore. — Tragical  funeral 
of  John  Lecky. — Robbery  of  the  mail. — A  genteel  begger. — 
Military  intrusion. — Death  of  James  Kathrens. — Visit  to 
Ballitore  of  Benjamin  Rotch,  a  native  of  Nantucket,  New 
England. — Division  among  Friends. — Spread  of  Republican 
principles. — Death  of  Edmund  Burke, — Letter  from  him  to 
the  author,  dictated  during  his  last  illness.-  Colonel  Keatinge 
an  M.P. — Sally  Shackleton's  travels  in  the  ministry. — Robbery, 
arson,  and  other  signs  of  civil  war  __         __     192  to  220 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
1798. 
A  rejoicing  household. — Mysterious  disappearances, — Popular 
militia  replaced  by  Orangemen. — Free  quarters, — Seditious 
papers. — Robbery  by  the  yeomen. — Terms  offered  to  the  sedi- 
tious.— Colonel  Keatinge  and  his  family  leave  Ireland.— Public 
whippings. — Six  yeomen  shot. — Alarming  rumours. — The  rebel- 
lion breaks  forth. —  Skirmish  at  Narraghmore. — The  rebels  enter 
Ballitore. — Murder  of  Richard  Yeates  of  Moone. — Skirmish  on 
the  bog-road. — Abraham  Shackleton  and  others  taken  prisoners 
by  the  rebels. — Courage  and  benevolence  of  young  Betsy  Shack- 
leton.— Sad  state  of  affairs  in  Ballitore. — Young  girls  in  costmne 
accompany  the  insurgents, — Merciless  conduct  of  the  military 
in  Carlow. — John  Bewley  appeals  to  Colonel  Campbell  on  be- 
half of  the  people. — His  negociation  fails. — The  military  de- 
stroy Colonel  Keatinge's  house,  and  murder  his  cousin. — Balli- 
tore delivered  up  to  rapine,  fire,  and  slaughter  for  two  hours. 
— Shocking:   incidents. — Cruel   murder  of    Owen   Finn,    Tom 


CONTENTS.  IX 

Dufiy,  and  Dr.  Frank  Johnson.— Friendly  interference  of  Cap- 
tain Palmer.— Escape  of  priest  Cullen.— Visit  to  the  bereaved 
widow  of  Dr.  Johnson. — The  doctor's  fvineral. — Timolin,  Nar- 
raghmore,  and  Crookstown  ravaged.— The  insurgents  send 
hostages,  and  deliver  up  their  arms    __         _-  221  to  251 

CHAPTER   IX. 

1798. 
Reminiscences  of  the  rebellion. — Murder  of  John  JefFers  of  Nar- 
raghmore. — Hugh  Cullen  of  Prospect  saved  by  the  interference 
of  Ephraim  Boake. — Evening  scene  on  Ballitore  bridge. — Land- 
ing of  the  French  at  Killala. — Anecdotes  of  Lord  Cornwallis. 
— Reformation  of  fairs  by  the  military.— Frequency  of  house- 
hold robbery  and  murder. — Robbery  of  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle 
— and  of  William  Leadbeater. — Tom  Eyre's  last  visit  to  Balli- 
tore.— Attack  on  Boakefield  by  the  rebel  Captain  Smith  and 
his  party. —  Visit  of  an  old  Ballitore  boy,  now  an  officer  in  the 
Cavan  militia. — Tragic  scene  in  Baltinglass. — Little  Jane  Lead- 
beater burned  to  death. — Continued  robbery  and  violence  of 
the  defeated  insurgents. — Hugh  Cullen  restored  to  liberty.— 
Death  of  the  Highland  centenarian,  Finlay  McClane — and 
of  Tom  Eyre  252  to  278 

CHAPTER  X. 
1799. 

Destruction  of  trees  in  Ballitore.— Return  of  SaUy  Shackleton 
from  her  travels  in  the  ministry.- Arrival  of  Captain  Smith 
and  his  accomplished  family.— Sudden  death  of  Ephraim 
Boake.— Hard  times. — Outrages  and  robbery  continue.— Betsy 
Barrington.— An  army  officer  becomes  a  "convinced  Friend." 
—Thomas  Bewley  and  his  sisters  settle  in  the  village.— Dolly 
Finn's  second  marriage.— The  Smiths  leave  Ireland.— A  pic- 
turesque funeral.— Peaceful  times  return.— Strange  whim  of  a 
dying  peer.— The  Medlicotts.— Agrarian  murder — The  Union. 
—The  Bishop  of  Meath.— Death  of  Mary  Bewley.— Ballitore 


X  CONTENTS. 

Inn  opened. — Melesina  St.  George. — John  Christy  settles  at 
Irishtown. — His  naval  visitor. — Vain  sports  and  places  of 
diversion. — t)issolution  of  BaUitore  school. — Pensive  reflec- 
tions -_         --         --         --         --         --     279  to  309 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1806. 

Marriage   of  James    White   and   Lydia   Shackleton. — BaUitore 

School  re-opened Lorenzo  Dow. — John  Pirn  of  London. — 

Michael  Kearney. — Patrick  Rogers. — A  friend  of  the  Burke 
family. — A  widowed  mother. — Happy  lovers. — First  vacation 
in  BaUitore  school. — A  Danish  mound. — More  old  BaUitore 
boys. — The  Le  Fanu  family. — A  heavenly  vision. — A  good 
Samaritan.^Harrington  of  Grangecon. — Mrs.  Trench  visits 
BaUybarney, — The  jubUee.— A  straw-plaiting  school  estab- 
lished.— How  Maria  Edgeworth  did  not  visit  BaUitore. — Spread 
of  education. — Spontaneous  combustion. — The  Boiihams  settle 
in  the  vUlage. — Death  of  Lydia  White  __         __     310  to  333 

CHAPTER  XII. 
1811. 
Thomas  Wray  a  "handsome  Quaker." — Departure  and  return  of 
Susy  O'Hara. — A  prisoner  of  war. — The  rich  woman  of  BaUybar- 
ney.— A  new  rector. — Notices  of  Burke  and  Beaconsfield. — 
The  school  library. — Arrival  of  the  Grattan  family,  and  anec- 
dotes of  Thomas  WUkinson.  — The  Duke  of  Leinster  visits  the 
village. — Death  of  Pat  Rogers  in  an  EngUsh  prison. — A  chari- 
table fund  estabUshed. — The  great  snow. — Tale  of  Carlow 
Castle. — Visit  of  Judge  Day. — News  of  the  proclamation  of 
peace. — WiUiam  Robinson,  the  new  usher. — Joyful  return  of 
Joseph  WUliams  from  a  French  prison. — Results  of  the  war. — 
A  luminous  arch. — Fearful  storm  and  faU  of  a  great  ivy  tree  in 
the  school  garden. — Charitable  bequests  of  the  Keatinge  family. 
— Illness  and  death  of  WUUam  Robinson. — Juvenile  Magazine. 
— Visit  from  some  of  the  Edgeworth  family. — Misfortunes  of 


CONTENTS.  XI 

Betty  Curran. — Death  of  Deborah  Wilson. — Hard  times  after 
the  war. — A  studious  invalid. — Happy  end  of  a  Chancery  suit. 
— Fever  in  the  school.^ — Death  of  Samuel  Grubb  __  334  to  362 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
1817, 
Laying  the  foundation-stone  of  Griesemount  house. — A  grand 
funeral  in  Ballitore. — Death  of  Eliza  Grattan. — Kilkea  Castle. 
— Predicted  conflagration  of  the  world —  quenched  in  Ballitore 
by  a  flood. — Scanty  harvest. — Death  of  Margaret  Shackleton. 
— Visit  from  George  Downes. — Opposition  to  Lancasterian 
schools. — Robbers  and  nightly  patrol. — Lord  Norbury  in  Bal- 
litore.— Visit  from  Dr.  E,  C.  Herbert  Orpen,  the  friend  of  the 
deaf  and  dumb. — Story  of  Maria  Lennon. — The  Queen  of  the 
Marshalsea. — Death  of  William  P.  Le  Fanu. — How  Julia  be- 
came Judy  in  Ballitore. — Repeated  bereavements. — Death  of  the 
Princess  Charlotte. — Prevalence  of  typhus  fever.— Marriage  of 
James  W^hite  and  Mary  Pike. — Presentation  of  plate,  and 
social  visiting. — ^Adult  school  established. — An  afflicted  family. 
— Religious  visit  from  Anna  Forster  and  Priscilla  Gurney. — 
Last  re-union  of  the  children  of  Richard  Shackleton. — Par- 
ticulars of  the  last  illness,  and  death  of  the  second  Abraham 
Shackleton. — Review  of  his  character        ..         _.  363  to  397 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

1818. 
Anecdote  of  Cowper's  cousin,  Lafly  Austin. — Fever  in  Ballitore 
— Elizabeth  Fry  in  Newgate. — Friends  in  Carlow  attacked  by 
the  rabble. — John  Pim  of  London. — Visit  from  large  Phibbs. — 
An  old  Balhtore  pupil  attached  in  death. — lUness  of  the 
annalist  and  her  happy  recovery. — Benevolent  activity  of  Mar- 
garet Bonham.— Theodore  E.  Suliot.— The  "  Ballitore  Maga- 
zine."— Visit  from  the  widow  of  Richard  L.  Edgeworth,  and 
the  elder  son  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. — George  and  Wilhelmina 
Downes. — A  tea  party. — Moone  house  and  its  transformations. 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

— Death  of  little  Fanny  Downes. — The  story  of  Mary  Mooney. 
— The  foundlings  of  Ballintaggart. — Burying  alive  of  Patt 
Mitchell's  baby. — The  queen's  trial,  and  visit  of  George  IV. 
to  Ireland. — A  deputation  from  Friends  present  an  address. — 
Death  of  Molly  Webster. — Ebb  and  flow  of  visitors. — Death  of 
Anne  Doyle. — Malicious  burning  at  Ballintaggart. — Gold- 
smith's ideas  of  prison  discipline  verified. — Jacob  Harvey  re- 
turns from  America. — An  interview  with  the  poet  Crabbe. — 
Anecdote  of  Captain  Clarke. — The  prompter  of  R.  L.  Edge- 
worth's  mechanical  genius. —  Death  of  the  Bishop  of  Meath. — 
First  baUoon  ascent  from  Ballitore. — Recollections  of  childhood 
in  Fuller's  Court. — Nancy  McCabe. — A  new  manufacture 
started  __         __         _-         __         __         __     398  to  429 


APPENDIX. 

Ballitore  School  List, 

From  the  opening  of  the  School  by  Abraham  Shackleton,  on 
the  1st  of  Third-month,  1726,  to  the  arrival  of  the  last  board- 
ers at  James  White's  School,  on  the  15th  of  Eighth-month, 
1836  _-        __        —        __         _-        __     43'  to  455 


A   MEMOIR 

OF 

MARY    LEADBEATER. 

]y[ARY  SHACKLETON,  afterwards  Leadbeater,  was 
born  in  Ballitore  in  the  county  of  Kildare,  in  the 
year  1758.  Her  father,  Eichard  Shackleton,  kept  a 
boarding-school,  which  had  been  established  in  that 
village  in  the  year  1 726  by  his  father  Abraham  Shackle- 
ton,  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  and  a  member  of  the  Society 
of  Friends.  Abraham  was  a  learned  and  good  man, 
straightforward  in  all  his  dealings,  and  sincere  in  his 
converse  with  God  and  man.  Such  is  the  character 
handed  down  of  the  first  of  the  Shackletons  who  settled 
in  Ireland.  His  son  Eichard  equalled  him  in  wisdom, 
integrity,  and  learning,  whilst  his  abilities  were  more 
highly  cultivated,  every  advantage  having  been  be- 
stowed upon  him  which  was  attainable  at  that  period. 
Although  the  son  of  a  strict  Quaker,  he  completed  his 
education  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  at  that  time  a 
very  unusual  step  for  one  of  that  persuasion.      His 


2  MEMOIR    OF   MAEY    LEADBEATER. 

temper  was  lively,  lie  had  a  ready  mt,  and  lie  wrote 
with  facility  in  several  languages  besides  his  own. 

Mary  Shackleton  inherited  a  large  portion  of  her 
father's  genius,  and  she  evinced  a  turn  for  poetical 
composition  at  such  an  early  age,  that  she  might  have 
been  injured  by  the  flattering  attention  paid  to  her  on 
that  account,  had  it  not  been  for  the  extraordinary 
modesty  and  sweetness  of  her  disposition,  wliich  were 
yet  more  remarkable  than  her  many  intellectual  endow- 
ments. 

The  high  character  which  her  father  held  in  society 
for  his  learning  and  worth  introduced  her  at  a  very 
early  age  to  the  notice  of  his  friends,  some  of  whom 
ranked  high  in  the  literary  and  political  world.  She 
easily  won  their  friendship  by  her  talents  and  amiability, 
and  she  never  lost  a  friend  except  by  death.  Edmund 
Burke,  whose  first  letter  to  Eichard  Shackleton  was 
dated  from  his  entrance  at  college,  and  who  afterwards 
kept  up  with  his  old  schoolfellow  and  friend  a  regular 
and  most  affectionate  correspondence,  dictated  his  last 
farewell  to  the  daughter  when  he  was  sinking  under 
bodily  and  mental  afflictions,  and  could  no  longer  guide 
the  pen. 

In  the  year  1791  she  was  married  to  William  Lead- 
beater,  a  descendant  of  the  Huguenot  families  of  Le 
Batre  and  Gilliard,  which  were  compelled  to  fly  from 
France  by  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  Being 
left  an  orphan  when  very  young,  he  was  placed  at  Bal- 
litore  school.  Having  completed  his  education  there, 
although  he  had  been  destined  by  his  father's  will  to 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    LEADBEATBR.  3 

be  brought  up  for  the  bar,  liis  guardian,  who  proved 
unfaithful  to  his  trust  in  this  as  well  as  in  other  respects, 
bound  him  to  Mr.  Eoger  North,  a  respectable  attorney 
in  Dublin,  with  a  view  to  his  following  that  profession. 
In  the  office  of  that  gentleman  he  remained  for  the  full 
term  of  liis  apprenticeship  ;  but  having  at  the  end  of 
his  time  become  convinced  of  the  principles  of  Quaker- 
ism, and  at  the  same  time  being  perhaps  unconsciously 
attracted  by  an  attachment  he  had  formed  Avliile  at 
school  to  the  youthful  subject  of  this  memoir,  he  threw 
up  his  profession,  sought  and  obtained  admission  into 
the  Society  of  Friends,  removed  to  Ballitore,  and  after 
some  years  obtained  the  hand  of  Mary  Shackleton.  In 
her  society  he  spent  tliirty-five  years  of  happiness,  unin- 
terrupted, we  believe,  save  by  those  casualties  which 
are  the  lot  of  the  most  fortunate,  and  by  the  calamities 
of  war,  followed  by  disease  and  famine,  which  in  1 798 
and  the  few  following  years  so  fearfully  distracted  and 
afflicted  his  native  country.  Having  a  turn  for  agricul- 
tural pursuits,  he  became  an  extensive  farmer  of  large 
tracts  of  land  in  his  own  neighbourhood,  and  managed 
them  so  successfully  that  he  realized  a  modest  compe- 
tence. He  died  about  a  year  after  his  wife,  to  whom 
he  was  devotedly  attached. 

Her  first  essay  at  authorship  was  in  the  year  1 794, 
when  she  published  anonymously  a  small  volume  of 
"  Extracts  and  Original  Anecdotes  for  the  Improvement 
of  Youth."  This  little  work  attained  considerable 
popularity :  it  was  probably  one  of  the  first  attempts 
to  introduce  literature  of  a  lightsome  and  interesting 


4  MEMOIR   OF    MARY    LEADBEATER. 

yet  instructive  character  into  the  juvenile  hbraries  of 
"  Friends,"  from  which  works  of  an  entertaining  kind 
had  been  heretofore  somewhat  rigidly  excluded.  Like 
all  her  little  books  for  children,  it  contains  many  of 
those  beautiful  touches  which  proceed  only  from  a 
tender  and  benevolent  heart. 

Her  name  first  came  before  the  public  in  1 808,  when 
a  selection  from  her  poems  was  pubhshed  by  subscrip- 
tion. With  the  exception  of  a  "  Translation  of  Mafifeus's 
Continuation  of  the  ^neid,"  these  were  all  written  on 
domestic  occasions,  and  were  addressed  to  the  members 
of  her  own  family,  or  to  some  of  her  most  intimate 
friends ;  and,  although  perhaps  now"  forgotten  by  the 
public,  they  are  still  precious  to  those  who  knew  the 
writer,  and  the  circumstances  that  called  into  action  the 
susceptible  feelings  of  her  heart.  They  all  breathe  an 
innocent  enjoyment  of  the  pleasures  of  domestic  afi"ec- 
tion,  and  of  a  retired  and  rural  life ;  they  are  the  unpre- 
tending effusions  of  a  mind  ahve  to  the  beauties  of 
nature,  overflowing  with  love  to  those  around  her,  with 
charity  to  all  men,  and  with  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of 
those  simple  joys  which  made  the  happiness  of  her  life. 

The  first  series  of  her  "  Cottage  Dialogues  of  the 
Irish  Peasantry'^  appeared  in  the  year  181 1,  and  was 
followed  by  a  second  series  in  18 13.  In  these  Dia- 
logues, with  a  felicity  of  language  rarely  equalled  by 
any  writer  previous  to  her  time,  she  has  painted  the 
virtues  and  the  failings,  the  joys  and  the  sorrows,  the 
feelings  and  the  prejudices  of  our  impulsive  and  quick- 
witted countrymen.     This  is  the  work  by  which  Mary 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    LEADBEATER.  5 

Leadbeater  is  cMefly  known,  and  its  utility  has  been 
fully  proved  by  the  approbation  of  all  who  were  at 
that  time  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  Irish  poor, 
and  by  their  efforts  to  circulate  them  as  widely  as 
possible  among  the  class  for  which  they  were  intended. 
They  were  subsequently  published  in  a  larger  form  for 
the  English  public,  and  were  enriched  with  notes  illus- 
trative of  the  character,  manners,  &c.  of  the  Irish  pea- 
santry by  the  author's  friend  Mr.  W.  P.  Lefanu,  the 
founder  and  proprietor  of  the  "  Farmer's  Journal,"  and 
by  Miss  Edgeworth,  who  interested  herself  warmly  in 
the  success  of  the  work,  and  addressed  several  letters 
to  Mary  Leadbeater  expressive  of  her  esteem,  and  of 
her  desire  to  do  everything  in  her  power  to  promote 
her  benevolent  views.  A  third  series  of  the  "  Cottage 
Dialogues,"  which  remained  in  manuscript  at  the  time 
of  the  author's  death,  was  published  in  a  duodecimo 
volume  along  with  the  earlier  series,*  and  has  been 
pronounced  by  competent  judges  to  be  even  superior 
to  them  in  interest  and  simple  pathos.  In  the  "  Dia- 
logues," we  may  observe  that  Eose,  who  is  a  model 
of  excellence,  always  imparts  advice  or  information  to 
her  idle  neighbour  with  a  mildness  and  diffidence  far 
removed  from  the  loquacious,  self-important  manner  in 
which  some  of  the  perfect  characters  held  up  to  our 
view  are  made  to  dictate  to  their  misguided  companions, 
and  which  almost  disgusts  the  reader  with  perfection. 
They  also  afford  an  example  of  that  lambent  wit  and 

*  In  1 84 1,  by  P.  Kennedy,  Anglesea-street,  Dublin. 


6  MEMOIE    OF    MARY    LEADBEATER. 

liumour  which  made  the  author's  conversation  and  cor- 
respondence so  attractive. 

The  publication  of  the  "  Cottage  Dialogues"  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  "Landlord's  Friend,"  "Cottage  Biography," 
"  Biographical  Notices  of  Irish  Friends,"  and  "  Memoirs 
of  Richard  and  Elizabeth  Shackleton  ;"  besides  which 
she  wrote  poems,  essays,  characters,  and  tales,  some  of 
which  have  found  their  way  to  various  periodical  publi- 
cations. 

The  last  work  she  lived  to  publish  was  a  little  book 
called  "The  Pedlars,"  written  for  the  Kildare- street 
Education  Society,  consisting  of  dialogues  descriptive  of 
t]ie  natural  and  artificial  curiosities  of  various  parts  of 
Ireland,  and  of  what  w^as  always  her  favourite  theme 
—the  character  of  the  Irish  poor,  their  virtues,  their 
sufferings,  and  the  best  mode  of  improving  their  con- 
dition. 

All  these  works,  different  as  they  are  in  subject  and 
style,  bear  the  stamp  of  a  mind  ever  disposed  to  look  at 
the  favourable  side  of  things  and  characters,  to  receive 
the  good  thankfully,  and  bear  the  evil  with  cheerful 
resignation. 

Amongst  her  literary  performances  may  be  reckoned 
a  very  extensive  correspondence  with  people  of  differ- 
ent ranks  and  situations  in  life.  She  excelled  in  this 
department.  She  expressed  herself  with  ease  and  con- 
ciseness, and  related  little  domestic  occurrences  with 
spirit,  accompanied  by  touches  of  the  most  gentle  wit, 
which  gave  a  charm  to  the  merest  trifle.  If  she  were 
the  messenger  of  sorrowful  intelligence,  it  was  delivered 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    LEADBEATER.  7 

with  tenderness  and  caution,  accompanied  by  the  balm 
of  comfort  which  almost  deprived  the  unwelcome  tidings 
of  their  sting.  Being  known  to  hold  the  pen  of  a  read}^ 
writer,  she  was  frequently  solicited  to  write  letters  on 
intricate  subjects,  where  judgment  and  delicacy  were 
required. 

Her  power  of  turning  in  a  moment  from  one  occupa- 
tion to  another  was  amazing.  In  the  midst  of  her  long 
accounts,  if  she  were  asked  to  write  a  letter  of  kindness, 
a  petition,  or  a  recommendation,  she  immediately  gave 
her  thoughts  to  it,  and  put  it  into  execution. 

Exposed  to  continual  interruptions  from  friends,  who 
found  her  always  ready  to  sympathize  in  their  tastes 
and  pursuits,  be  they  ever  so  different  from  her  own ; 
from  visitors,  whom  her  fame  often  brought  from  a 
distance  to  enjoy  her  conversation  j  from  the  poor,  who 
daily  came  to  her  for  advice  or  help ;  she  never  seemed 
in  a  hurry,  and  with  perfect  regularity  carried  on  her 
various  occupations.  She  began  to  keep  a  diary  in  her 
eleventh  year,  and  continued  it  till  within  a  w^eek  of 
her  death.  She  also  kept  a  private  journal  of  her  own 
life,  and  compiled  "  The  Annals  of  Ballitore,'^  extend- 
ing from  the  year  1766  down  to  1824,  two  years  before 
her  death.  These  two  last  works  are  interesting  not 
only  from  the  number  and  variety  of  characters,  ludi- 
crous or  pathetic  incidents,  and  anecdotes  of  celebrated 
individuals  whom  she  met  with  in  her  travels  or  who 
visited  Ballitore,  but  also  on  account  of  the  faithful  and 
lively  picture  which  they  present  of  her  own  home,  and 
of  the  small  but  cultivated  circle  of  which  she  was  the 


8  MEMOIR    OF   MARY    LEADBEATER. 

ornament.  In  these  volumes  she  lays  open  her  whole 
heart,  whose  every  thought  seems  to  have  been  pure 
and  dictated  by  love,  and  upon  whose  warmth  years 
had  no  other  effect  than  that  of  adding  to  it  wisdom 
and  experience.  She  was  to  the  last  youthful  in  her 
affections,  of  an  open  and  unsuspicious  disjDOsition,  and 
ready  to  hail  with  enthusiasm  every  improvement  of 
later  times. 

She  was  for  many  years  instrumental  in  assisting  the 
enlightened  efforts  of  the  late  Mrs.  Eichard  Trench, 
mother  of  the  present  Dean  of  Westminster,  to  reclaim 
a  numerous  body  of  tenantry  on  one  of  her  estates  from 
misery  and  degradation  to  comfort  and  industry  ;  and 
the  inhabitants  of  the  neat  cottages  of  Ballybarney,  a 
few  miles  from  Ballitore,  regarded  Mary  Leadbeater  as 
a  friend,  a  governor,  and  a  judge,  kind-hearted  and 
beneficent  in  all  these  various  capacities.  Happy  w^ere 
the  days  when,  accompanied  by  some  of  her  friends,  she 
visited  the  estate  to  decide  on  the  merits  of  the  tenants, 
and  to  distribute  the  premiums  granted  by  the  gene- 
rous proprietress.  She  was  always  warmly  received, 
and  her  companions  partook  of  the  unstudied  welcome 
and  the  homely  cheer  which  were  so  cordially  offered. 
The  cottagers  familiarly  recounted  their  successes,  their 
misfortunes,  and  their  future  j)lans  ;  and,  when  disputes 
arose  among  them,  she  calmly  heard  both  sides^  and 
neither  party  was  afraid  to  lay  the  whole  matter  before 
her.  She  knew  each  one  by  name  and  character,  and 
remembered  from  one  year  to  another  how  they  pros- 
pered.    She  admonished  some,  encouraged  others  ;  and 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    LEADBEATER.  9 

her  sympathy  was  often  awakened  by  the  lamentations 
of  these  warm-hearted  people  for  their  relatives  who 
had  died  or  emigrated.  An  expedition  to  Ballybarney 
in  her  company  had  the  charm  of  a  party  of  pleasure. 

In  the  course  of  her  Hfe  she  had  many  affhctions 
to  endure.  She  was  deprived  by  death  of  many  rela- 
tions and  friends.  She  saw  her  native  village  almost 
destroyed  by  the  calamities  of  civil  war,  and  she  was 
witness  to  the  succeeding  horrors  of  nightly  robberies. 
No  one  felt  these  distresses  more  keenly  than  she  did  ; 
but  when  she  was  deprived  of  one  enjoyment,  she 
clung  the  more  closely  to  those  which  remained. 

She  was  of  a  most  unsuspicious  nature,  and  was  thus 
delivered  from  a  host  of  distressing  thoughts  and  con- 
jectures ;  and  jealousy,  that  fatal  enemy  to  peace  and 
friendship,  found  no  place  in  her  mind.  She  knew  and 
felt  that  she  was  beloved. 

Her  friends  were  numerous,  and  many  of  them,  with 
whom  she  corresponded,  were  scattered  over  the  face  of 
the  earth ;  but  her  extended  friendships  or  extended 
usefulness  did  not  deprive  her  family  of  her  society 
or  prevent  the  fulfilment  of  her  domestic  duties.  She 
wrote  a  great  deal  while  her  friends  were  conversing 
around  her,  and  sometimes  joined  in  the  conversation. 
One  of  her  daughters  generally  read  to  her  while 
she  was  transcribing.  Her  industry,  perseverance,  and 
energy  were  so  remarkable,  that  her  domestic  perfor- 
mances exceeded  those  of  many  more  active  women. 
She  had  a  famiHar,  persuasive  manner  about  her  house- 
hold affairs,  wliich  induced  her  servants  to  enter  into 


lO  MEMOIR   OF    MARY    LEADBEATER. 

her  views,  and  deliglit  in  doing  what  would  please 
her. 

Many  strangers  who  came  to  Ballitore  wished  to  see 
her,  either  from  admiration  of  her  character  and  wiitings, 
or  from  mere  curiosity.  While  she  sat  to  be  looked  at 
by  such  people,  the  smile  of  politeness  lighted  up  her 
countenance  ;  yet  her  eyes  were  cast  down,  and  she 
was  generally  more  silent  than  usual  on  such  occasions, 
and  seemed  merely  an  attentive  Kstener  to  what  the 
strangers  had  to  say.  If  they  praised  her  writings,  she 
looked  pleased,  and  perhaps  thanked  them  for  their 
approbation,  with  a  modesty  and  simplicit}^  seldom 
equalled.  She  spoke  to  her  familiar  friends  of  her  own 
writings  with  as  much  ease  and  freedom  as  if  they 
belonged  to  another  person,  and  received  their  appro- 
bation or  censure  with  equanimity. 

Although  she  looked  back  upon  the  days  and  the 
friends  and  the  customs  of  her  youth  with  tender 
regret,  with  love  and  veneration,  she  delighted  to  con- 
template the  improvements  of  modern  society,  the  prison 
discipline,  the  schools,  the  savings'  banks,  and  the  other 
means  of  bettering  the  condition  of  the  poor.  She 
used  to  speak  of  Dublin  with  enthusiasm.  She  admired 
its  public  buildings,  its  squares,  its  quays,  and  the 
surrounding  scenery ;  but,  above  all,  its  charitable 
institutions.  She  never  gave  up  the  hope  that  the 
punishment  of  death  would  be  abolished.  Her  horror 
at  the  idea  of  a  human  creature  being  led  out  to  execu- 
tion, for  any  crime  whatever,  was  often  expressed  in 
conversation  and  iil  her  writings. 


MEMOIR    OF    MARY    LEADBEATER.  I  1 

In  her  character  she  exemplified  St.  PauFs  inimitable 
definition  of  charity :  "  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is 
"  kind ;  charity  envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth  not  itself, 
"  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seek- 
"  eth  not  her  own,  is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no 
"  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the 
"  truth ;  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth 
"  all  things,  endureth  all  things.  Charity  never  fail- 
*'  eth." 

Her  humility  rendered  her  averse  to  speaking  of  her 
religious  experience,  but  her  care  to  impress  the  hearts 
of  her  children  with  a  feeling  of  reverend  dependence 
on  their  heavenly  Father,  and  the  many  expressions  of 
her  own  trust  in  divine  aid  which  her  diary  contains, 
show  that  she  was  favoured  with  a  deep  feeling  of  reli- 
gious fear  and  love. 

About  a  year  before  her  death  she  began  to  be  afflict- 
ed with  dropsy,  which,  in  defiance  of  medical  skill  and 
the  tender  cares  of  her  anxious  family,  gradually  in- 
creased till  she  was  confined  to  her  chamber.  Yet 
even  there  her  mind  seemed  unchanged.  She  mani- 
fested the  same  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  all  around 
her ;  and  she  was  equally  accessible  to  the  many  who 
came  to  consult  her,  or  to  enjoy  her  company  once 
more.  She  continued  her  literary  occupations  to  the 
very  last  week,  preparing  a  volume  of  Essays,  Tales, 
and  Anecdotes  for  the  Kildare  Place  Education  Society. 

During  the  few  last  days  she  became  rapidly  worse. 
Her  sufferings  were  great,  and  she  feared  that  her  pati- 
ence would  not  hold  out  to  the  end,  and  that  she  could 


12  MEMOIR  OF  MARY  LEADBEATER. 

not  part  with  perfect  resignation  from  those  blessings 
to  which  her  heart  clung  with  increased  affection.  But 
she  was  supported  by  Divine  help  through  the  trying 
close,  and  her  death  was  indeed  that  of  the  just.  She 
died  on  the  27th  of  June,  1826. 


THE 

ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE. 

CHAPTER   I. 

1766. 

Preliminary  Reflections. — Description  of  Ballitore  in  prose  and 
verse. — The  first  Abraham  Shackleton. — His  ancient  mansion 
in  Ballitore. — The  forge,  Mick  Murray,  and  his  dentistry. — 
Reminiscences  of  Peter  Widdows. — The  widow  Taylor  and  her 
daughter  Polly,  Sarah  Braddock,  the  widow  Jackson  and  her 
daughter  Jvdia,  Joseph  Wills,  Jonathan  Haughton,  and  Lee 
Masters  __         __         __         __         __         —       13  to  36 

TTTHY  do  we  not  better  remember  that  truth  which 
we  know  so  well,  that  we  are  not  sensible  of  the 
value  of  our  blessings  till  we  lose  them  ?  In  sickness 
the  comfort  of  health  is  painfully  recollected,  though 
apparently  in  little  esteem  when  possessed.  When 
death  has  deprived  us  of  our  tender  parents,  affectionate 
friends,  or  engaging  children, — sensible  that  we  are  cut 
off  from  every  hope  of  again  enjoying  their  society,  how 
is  every  endearing  circumstance  of  the  past  revived, 
and  every  omission  on  our  part  towards  them  roused  to 
anguish ! 


14  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1766. 

Wlien  a  state  of  disturbance  pervades  a  nation,  when 
the  horrors  of  war  have  been  felt  or  threatened^  how  do 
we  cast  a  retrospective  view  to  the  days  of  tranquillity, 
when  we  sat  as  it  were  under  our  own  vines  and 
hg-trees,  and  none  made  us  afraid — astonished  that 
any  are  willing  to  relinquish  the  sweets  of  peace.  The 
situation  of  outward  alarm  and  the  prospect  of  unsettle- 
ment  ought  to  loosen  the  mind  from  those  terrene 
things  in  which  it  was  wont  to  delight. 

It  has  not  had  that  effect  upon  me.  JMy  heart  swells 
with  tender  recollections  of  the  past,  and  though  prompt 
to  enjoy  the  present,  feels  a  regret  at  the  memory  of 
what  I  have  lost,  mixed  with  a  pensive  satisfaction 
that  I  have  enjoyed  those  quiet  pleasures.  My  native 
village  was  never  so  dear  to  me ;  and  though  the  vernal 
time  of  childhood  and  the  glowing  sensations  of  youth 
are  past,  the  autumn  of  life  is  not  destitute  of  its  tran- 
quil enjoyments.  This  season  of  the  year  I  am  partial 
to  ;  I  admire  the  rich  and  varied  prospects  of  the 
autumnal  season,  the  employments  by  which  it  is  en- 
livened, and  the  awakened  remembrance  of  the  year 
nearly  gone.  Thus,  in  the  autumn  of  life,  I  feel  my 
early  sensations  revived  in  the  children  and  youth  of 
our  family,  and  I  am  led  to  look  back,  and,  with  the 
partiality  which  I  feel  to  Ballitore,  desire  to  retrace  for 
their  amusement  and  for  my  own  those  scenes,  indiffe- 
rent to  other  eyes,  which  have  passed  before  mine  not 
unnoticed.  My  abilities  are  limited  ;  my  sphere  is 
limited  also  to  the  "  sweet  spot  of  the  world  "  where 


1/66.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I^ 

my  days  have  been  spent,  and  where  I  desire  to  end 
them. 

Ballitore,  in  the  county  of  Kildare,  twenty-eight  Irish 
miles  from  DubHn,  is  a  village  a  little  off  the  high  rbad 
from  Dublin  to  Cork.     It  is  situated  in  a  valley  encom- 
passed by  gently  rising  hills,  except  where  the  river 
Griese  takes  its  meandering  course  of  about  fourteen 
miles  from  its  spring  at  Tubber,  in  the  county  of  Wick- 
low,  to  its  union  with  the  Barrow  near  Jerusalem,  a 
little  hamlet  in  the  county  of  Kildare.    BaUitore  derives 
its  name  from  its  former  marshy  condition  (bally  in 
Irish  signifying  a  town  or  village,  and  togher  a  bog), 
from  which  it  was  reclaimed  by  drainage  and  careful 
cultivation.     This  fertile  portion  of  land  was  purchased 
about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  by  John 
Barcroft  and  Abel  Strettel,  respectable  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends.     It  is  reported  to  have  been  very 
bare  of  wood  till  the  new  proprietors  began  to  plant, 
which  they  did  abundantly,  and  groves,  orchards,  and 
thick  hedge-rows  soon  adorned  the  valley.     In  a  work 
published  in  1792,  it  is  thus  described: — "Within  a 
"  mile  of  Timolin  on  the  right,  our  eyes   were  enrap- 
"  tured  with  the  most  delicious  situation,  when  throucrh 
"  the  lofty  trees  we  beheld  a  variety  of  neat  dwellings. 
"  Through  a  road  that  looked  like  a  fine  terrace- walk  we 
"  hastened  to  this  lovely  spot,  where  nature  assisted  by 
"  art  gave  us  the  most  perfect  gratification.     It  is  a 
"  colony  of  Quakers,  called  by  the  name  of  Ballitore. 
"  The  river  Griese  winds   its   stream  very   near  the 
"  houses  ;   and  the  buildings,   orchards,   and  gardens 


l6  THE   ANNALS   OP   BALLITORE.  [1766. 

"  sliow  an  elegant  simplicity  peculiar  to  this  people. 
"  Their  burying-ground  near  the  road  is  surrounded 
"  with  different  trees,  whose  verdure  made  us  imagine 
"  it  a  well-planted  garden,  till  we  were  informed  other- 
"  wise.  The  hedges  that  enclose  the  meadows  and 
"  fields  are  quickset,  kept  of  an  equal  height,  and  about 
"  every  ten  yards  trees  regularly  pierce  through  them, 
"  forming  beautiful  groves  of  a  large  extent.  Industry 
"  reigns  amongst  this  happy  society ;  all  their  works 
"  are  executed  with  taste  corrected  by  judgment,  and 
"  seem  to  prosper  as  if  Heaven  smiled  on  their  honest 
"  labours." 

I  was  born  in  the  last  month  of  the  year  1758.  I 
suppose  when  about  seven  years  of  age  I  began  to 
remark  the  familiar  shades  under  which  I  grew.  I 
shall  attempt  a  description  as  I  first  remember  them. 

[The  general  description  of  the  village  of  Ballitore  as 
it  appeared  in  the  year  1766,  which  here  follows  in  the 
author's  manuscript,  is  now  so  inappHcable  that  it  is 
thought  best  to  omit  the  few  pages  it  occupies  in  the 
"Annals,"  and  to  substitute,  with  some  omissions,  a 
poem  written  by  her  in  the  year  1778,  which  will 
recall  to  many  of  the  readers  of  these  volumes  some  of 
the  beloved  scenes  and  sports  of  their  childhood,] 

BALLITORE. 

Lo  !  rosy  Summer  now  draws  nigh, 
And  Spring  resigns  the  weeping  sky : 


1766.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  1 7 

Slow  she  retires,  and  turns  again, 

As  loath  to  leave  the  lovely  plain  ; 

While  buxom  Summer,  bright  and  fair, 

Comes  sailing  on  the  glowing  air, 

And  joys  in  Griese's  silver  wave 

Her  loose  ambrosial  locks  to  lave. 

Then  come,  my  friend,  and  taste  once  more 

The  beauties  of  sweet  Ballitore  ; 

This  charming  spot,  where  joys  abound. 

By  rising  hills  encompass'd  round  ; 

Fair  hills,  which  rear  the  golden  brow. 

And  smile  upon  the  vale  below. 

Let  us  begin,  where  fair  and  wide, 
Grac'd  with  young  elms  on  either  side, 
The  lov'd  Mill-avenue  we  tread, 
Dear  to  the  daughters  of  the  shade. 
As  some  fair  virgin  sits  retir'd. 
In  lovely,  lowly  state  admir'd. 
Her  beauties  but  in  part  reveal'd. 
The  rest  in  modest  guise  conceal'd  ; 
So  Ballitore  from  hence  is  seen. 
Half  hid  in  shades  of  deepest  green. 
Whei-e'er  one  turns  his  raptur'd  sight, 
The  beauteous  landscape  gives  delight, 
The  verdant  groves,  the  enamell'd  meads, 
The  rising  hills,  and  opening  glades  ; 
Neat  houses  here  and  there  he  sees 
Dispers'd  among  the  tufted  trees  ; 
The  cultur'd  fields  with  plenty  blest, 
In  summer's  pride  the  gardens  drest, 
The  crystal  streams,  which  gently  flow, 
Diffusing  nurture  as  they  go  ; 
And  Griese,  that,  with  meandering  glitle. 
Past  the  sweet  village  rolls  its  tide. 


l8  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

Our  minds  the  pleasing  prospect  fills, 
Environ'd  by  the  distant  hills  ; 
Dehghtful  hills,  which  gently  rise, 
And  seem  to  kiss  the  bending  skies. 
Far  as  the  e3'e  can  reach,  we  view 
A  tow'ring  structure,  fair  and  new  ; 
Then  a  contrasted  scene  behold, 
A  castle  ruinous  and  old. 
Contemplative,  in  these  we  find 
Fit  objects  for  the  musing  mind  ; 
So  generations  pass  away. 
Born,  rising,  hast'ning  to  decay. 

Onward  our  saunt'ring  steps  we  bend, 
And  now  the  little  bridge  ascend  : — 
How  sweet  to  stand  and  gaze  around, 
And  listen  to  the  dashing  sound 
Of  the  white  wave,  which  foams  along, 
Tumbling  the  rugged  stones  among  I 

There  rears  that  house  its  modest  head. 
Where  my  blest  hours  of  childhood  fled  : 
Amidst  these  bow'rs  so  sweet  and  gay 
Sally  and  I  were  wont  to  stray  ; 
Nature's  soft  chain,  with  friendship  twin"d, 
Our  sister  hearts  in  one  combin'd. 

Here  as  a  sheet  of  silver  bright 
The  mill-pond  charms  the  dazzled  sight, 
Deck'd  with  the  sallow's  hoary  pride  ; 
We  walk  admiring  by  its  side. 

We  cross  the  dyke,  the  field  we  gain, 
The  fair  MiU-field,  a  lovely  plain  : 
But  lovelier  once,  all  gaily  drest, 
The  cowslip  gilding  o'er  her  breast  ; 
The  ruthless  plough  her  bosom  tore, 
The  golden  cowslip  charms  no  more. 


r66.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  Ip 

We  come  to  Fuller's-court,  the  square 
For  widows  fam'd  and  maidens  fair. 
Here  my  dame  Fuller  keeps  her  home. 
And  three  fair  daughters  grace  the  dome  ; 
Enter  the  portal  when  you  will, 
And  all  is  neat  and  all  is  still. 
There  Julia's  ever-open  door, 
Encompass'd  by  the  smiling  poor  : 
Or  to  the  right  direct  thine  eyes, — 
The  thread  industrious  Mary  plies  : 
Though  small  her  house,  her  heart  is  wide, 
For  Truth  and  Friendship  there  reside. 

We  pass  the  gate  :  how  fair  the  sight ! 
The  trees  their  bending  heads  unite  ; 
In  the  blest  cool  we  move  along, 
Eegal'd  vpith  the  wild  warblers'  song  : 
The  village,  through  the  arches  green. 
Is  through  a  long  perspective  seen. 

O'er  the  trim  fence  now  cast  thine  eye. 
The  variegated  la^ndscape  spy  ; 
The  sloping  hill,  upon  whose  side 
The  grove  erects  its  sable  pride. 
Turn  to  the  left  ;  that  structure  tall 
Encloses  those  within  its  wall 
Who  great  by  blood,  but  greater  far 
By  manners  and  by  virtues,  are. 

See  in  the  grove  that  structure  neat. 
Here  we  for  worship  duly  meet : 
Oh,  may  we  clothed  in  silence  hear 
The  still  small  voice  for  ever  near  I 
But,  not  to  place  and  form  confined, 
The  worshi])  of  the  all-perfect  Mind 
Doth  like  the  sun  its  beams  impart, 
And  loves  the  temple  of  the  heart. 


20  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1/66. 

How  pleasant  the  surrounding  grove 
Where  the  gay  students  love  to  rove  ! 
The  stately  fir  with  verdant  head, 
Dear  to  the  Muse  the  beechen  shade, 
United  form  a  calm  retreat 
From  glowing  summer's  raging  heat. 
Here  with  soft  breath  the  tuneful  flute 
To  gentle  Echo  makes  his  suit, 
Though  not  in  strains  so  softly  gay 
As  blooming  Hall  was  wont  to  play. 
Too  venturous  boy,  where  dost  thou  rove, 
Far  distant  from  this  peaceful  grove  ? 
Beyond  the  vast  Atlantic's  wave 
Dost  thou  the  thundering  battle  brave  ? 
Or,  fainting,  pale,  and  bleeding  lie, 
No  tender  parent  weeping  by  '^ 

Perhaps  sad  recollection  strays 
To  former  scenes  and  happier  days, 

To  scenes  which  must  return  no  more, 

Thy  flute,  this  grove,  and  Ballitore  ! 
And  now  the  School  approaching  near, 

A  humming  noise  salutes  the  ear  ; 

The  busy  bees  who  sip  the  flowers 

Which  blossom  in  Parnassian  bowers 

Rich  stores  of  honey  thence  convey — 

The  treasures  of  a  future  day. 

The  door  unbarred,  with  mirth  and  glee 

They  rush  and  hail  sweet  Liberty. 

Come,  we'll  attend  the  sprightly  train 

And  view  them  sporting  on  the  plain, 

With  rosy  cheeks  and  laughing  eyes 

Each  to  his  dear  amusement  hies. 

This  bids  the  bounding  ball  to  fly  ; 

That  sends  the  feathered  cork  on  high  ; 


766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  2  1 

Some  sling  the  stone  with  dext'rous  throw, 

And  others  bend  the  guiltless  bow. 

Those  whip  the  whirling  top,  and  these 

The  rolling  marbles  better  please. 

One  in  his  captive  linnet  joys, 

And  one  his  pigeons'  care  employs  : 

These,  straining  every  nerve  on  high, 

Behold  the  kite  in  rapture  fly  ; 

The  sweets  of  Nature  those  invite 

Who,  in  their  gardens  gay,  delight 

To  sow  the  tender  seed  in  earth, 

And  careful  watch  the  springing  birth  ; 

To  see  the  flower  its  leaves  unfold, 

With  crimson  stained,  and  bright  with  gold  ; 

Or  on  their  mossy  seats  recline. 

And  duteous  court  the  gentle  Nine. 

Amongst  the  throng  ray  darling  Phaire 
Comes  singing  on,  devoid  of  care  ; 
Belov'd  of  all ;  for  o'er  his  head 
Scarce  six  unspotted  years  have  fled  ; 
Sweeter  than  Spring's  first  blossom'd  bough. 
But,  Skinner,  not  more  sweet  than  thou — 
Oh,  fairest  flower  that  grac'd  our  shade. 
How  soon  did  all  thy  glories  fade  ! 

When  Winter  comes,  it  hath  its  charms  ; 
E'en  Winter's  cold  their  bosoms  warms  ; 
Fearless  they  tempt  the  frozen  tide, 
And  o'er  the  slippery  surface  glide  ; 
Or  with  incessant  pains  and  care 
On  high  the  snowy  pillar  rear, 
Or  in  the  hall  at  close  of  day, 
While  six  fair  tapers  lend  their  ray. 
They  turn  the  instructive  page,  and  find 
A  feast  to  feed  the  immortal  mind. 


22  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

Some  trace  the  map  with  curious  eye, 
And  point  where  different  kingdoms  lie  ; 
Here  those  self-taught  the  pencil  guide, 
And  imitate  the  garden's  pride, 
While  these,  with  more  exalted  views, 
Record  the  labours  of  the  Muse. 

Say  why  each  eye  so  bright  appears, 
Why  every  cheek  contentment  wears  ? 
See  where  divine  Hygeia  stands. 
And  scatters  blessings  from  her  hands  ; 
She  o'er  the  cheek  the  roses  spread, 
And  tinged  the  lip  with  brighter  red, 
Kindled  the  lightening  of  the  eye, 
And  taught  the  nimble  feet  to  fly. 
Not  all  the  jewels  that  adorn 
The  crown  by  Britain's  monarch  worn 
Can  equal  or  compare  at  all 
With  those  that  grace  my  father's  hall. 

Scorn  not  these  scenes  which  simply  please  ; 
Great  Burke  once  led  a  life  like  these  ; 
Though  Britain's  cause  he  now  maintains, 

He  sported  on  these  verdant  plains  ; 

Though  now  his  numbers  swell  so  strong, 

Here  tuned  his  Muse  her  infant  song. 
Yet  even  these  have  ills  to  bear ; 

No  state  on  earth  is  free  from  care. 

Perhaps  in  playful  transport  tost 

The  ball  or  shuttlecock  is  lost  ; 

The  pigeons  wander,  linnet  dies. 

And  sorrow  dims  the  brightest  eyes  ; 

Or,  when  the  kite  sublimely  sails, 

Upborne  by  all  the  flying  gales. 

The  cord  is  broken,  down  she  flies, 

And  distant  fields  receive  the  prize. 


;66.]  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE,  23 

Or  when  the  gardens  shine  most  bright, 
(Alas  how  transient  is  delight  !) 
Some  roving  dog,  in  luckless  hour, 
Has  trampled  down  the  fairest  flower  ; 
Or  filthy  swine  with  brutal  taste 
Has  laid  the  pride  of  Summer  waste  : 
Or  when  they  hope  secure  to  glide, 
Descending  rain  has  marred  their  slide  ; 
Their  pillar,  late  so  snowy-white, 
Deformed  and  spoiled  disgusts  the  sight. 

Lo  !  the  poor  invalid  on  high 
From  the  sick  chamber  casts  his  eye, 
Beholds  their  sports  with  jealous  pain, 
And  wishes  for  his  health  again. 

See  all  forlorn  the  new-come  boy  ! 
Tasteless  to  him  each  scene  of  joy  : 
How  does  he  solitary  roam. 
And  whine,  and  sigh,  and  think  of  home  ! 

Some  thoughtless  lads  deride  the  swain. 
While  others  pitying  soothe  his  pain  ; 

Thus  (while  they  wipe  his  tears  away)  : 

"  Like  thee  we  mourn'd  :  but  now  can  say 

'•  No  joys  more  sweet  than  here  thou'lt  find  ; 

"  So  give  thy  sorrows  to  the  wind." 
Alas,  what  grief,  should  Vice  invade 

With  backward  steps  this  learned  shade. 

Or  Folly,  with  unmeaning  face, 

Intrude  into  this  happy  place  ! 

No  longer  are  ye  dear  to  fame. 

But  fall  a  prey  to  guilt  and  shame  ; 

Your  glory  fades,  and  ye  no  more 

Are  deemed  the  pride  of  Ballitore. 

But  heav'n  avert  the  fatal  day 

Which  takes  your  innocence  away  ! 


24  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [lj66. 

Learning  's  the  growth  of  Ballitore  ; 
With  caution  ope  that  close-shut  door. 
High  in  an  antique  chair  of  state 
The  village  mistress  keeps  her  seat  ; 
Her  little  subjects  standing  by 
Their  horn-books  and  their  samplers  ply, 
Watching  with  fear  her  awful  nod, 
And  trembling  at  the  lifted  rod. 

These  piers  were  once  the  Burrow-gate  ; 
(Beneath  each  pier  is  placed  a  seat 
From  whence  the  never-wearied  eye 
As  far  as  Fuller's  Court  can  spy  ; 
The  trees  so  green,  the  houses  white 
With  mingled  beauties  charm  the  sight.) 
The  old,  the  gay,  the  grave,  the  young 
Here  to  the  village  forum  throng  : 
Here  ragged  politicians  muse. 
And  tell  the  listening  crowd  the  news. 
On  the  new  bridge,  fast  by,  we  stay, 
And  the  Retreat's  loved  walls  survey. 
Before  the  door,  a  grateful  view, 
A  verdant  carpet  nature  threw, 

With  thousand  colours  gaily  dyed. 

All  bright  in  summer's  rosy  pride  : 

Here  the  diseased  poor  repair 

To  tell  my  pitying  aunt  their  care  ; 

She  hastens  to  relieve  their  woes. 

Bids  Famine  feed,  and  Pain  repose. 
The  road  hence  from  oiu-  village  leads, 

Which  trees  adorn  with  bending  heads  ; 

So  thick  the  twisting  branches  blend, 

They  hide  the  hiU  we  must  ascend. 

So  when  the  present  bhss  we  know 

We  look  not  at  the  future  woe. 


1/66.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE. 


This  hill  so  steep  when  we  descend, 
Our  feet  with  quickest  motion  bend  ; 
But,  when  ascending,  leave  with  pain 
The  beauties  of  this  charming  plain. 
Still  lingering  on  the  bridge  we  stay 
While  the  sun  shoots  his  evening  ray  : 
Wide  spread  the  silver  waters  here, 
Unruffled,  calm,  serene  and  clear  ; 
But,  straitened  at  the  other  side, 
With  gently-tinkling  murmurs  glide  ; 
A  darker  gloom  these  waves  arrays, 
On  those  a  brighter  lustre  plays. 

And  now  the  setting  orb  from  high 
Rolls  down  the  blushing  western  sky  ; 
Aroimd  he  throws  his  parting  fires, 
And  in  a  blaze  of  gold  reth-es. 
On  every  side  we  cast  our  eyes. 
Behold,  the  fading  landscape  dies  ; 
The  glowing  colours  melt  away, 
And  twilight  dims  the  eye  of  day. 
But  yonder,  see,  arrayed  in  light 
Mounts  the  pale  empress  of  the  night, 
Walking  in  brightness  through  the  shades. 
Onward  the  host  of  heaven  she  leads, 
Brighter  she  gains  the  etherial  way, 
And  sheds  around  a  milder  day  ; 
From  high  beholds  her  silver  beam 
Reflected  in  the  lucid  stream. 
The  stream,  rejoiced  so  bright  a  guest 
Should  sleep  upon  his  placid  breast, 
Would  fain  his  gliding  waters  stay, 
With  her  delightful  locks  to  play. 

A  solemn  silence  reigns  around. 
No  busy  footsteps  beat  the  ground. 


26  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

The  moon  no  careful  watch-dogs  bay, 
No  breezes  shake  the  bendmg  spray, 
No  flute  awakes  the  slumbering  grove, 
Where  not  a  leaf  is  heard  to  move  ; 
Scarce  heard  the  distant  dying  sound, 
Such  solemn  sUence  reigns  around. 

Here  ends  our  walk — and  here,  my  friend, 
The  gay  description  I  shall  end  ; 
These  lines  present  no  fancied  view, 
'Twas  truth  the  faithful  landscape  drew. 
Here  from  the  busy  world  retired, 
The  fragrant  air  I  first  inspired. 
And  here  may  all  my  days  be  spent, 
With  innocence  and  sweet  content  ; 
With  contemplation  ever  calm, 
And  friendship,  life's  most  precious  balm  ! 
But  where  are  all  these  blessings  found, 
Unless  by  thee,  Eeligion,  crowned  ? 
O,  be  thou  first  to  gain  my  breast, 
And  be  it  worthy  of  the  guest  ! 
Content  and  innocence  appear. 
Celestial  maid,  when  thou  art  here  ; 
Thou  raisest  Contemplation's  eye, 
To  see  the  blest  abodes  on  high  : 
Our  friendships,  formed  by  thee,  endure  ; 
'Tis  thou  who  can'st  oiu"  bliss  secure  : 
Thou  bid'st  our  passions  all  subside  ; 
Be  thou  my  guardian  and  my  guide  ; 
Then  in  this  sweet  sequestered  shade, 
More  lovely  by  thy  presence  made. 
Remote  from  envy,  care,  and  strife, 
Calm  shall  I  pass  my  quiet  life, 
Taste  purer  joys  when  these  are  o'er, 
And  lay  my  bones  in  BaUitore  ! 


1/66.]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  27 

The  first  abode  on  entering  the  village  was  that  of 
old  Abraham  Shackleton,  a  man  whose  memory  was 
long  held  in  veneration.  His  exterior  bespoke  his 
character ;  his  countenance  expressed  the  sweetness 
and  humility  of  his  mind,  mixed  with  a  gravity  some- 
times bordering  on  austerity.  Being  the  youngest  of 
six  orphans,  and  his  habit  of  body  not  being  robust 
enough  for  labour,  he  betook  himself  to  letters,  and 
though  twenty  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  learn 
Latin,  he  succeeded  so  perfectly  as  to  write  that  lan- 
guage not  only  with  correctness  but  with  elegance.  He 
was  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  and  became  an  assistant  in 
the  school  of  David  Hall  of  Skij^ton,  in  whose  family 
his  future  wife,  Margaret  Wilkinson,  David  Hall's  near 
relation,  was  also  an  inmate.  Having  removed  to  Ire- 
land, he  was  engaged  by  William  Cooper  of  Cooper- 
hill,  and  John  Duckett  of  Duckett's-grove,  who  were 
both  country-gentlemen  and  Quakers,  as  private  tutor 
to  their  children.  Sensible  of  his  talents  and  worth, 
they  encouraged  him  to  open  a  boarding-school,  which 
he  did  in  Ballitore  on  the  first  of  the  Third-month, 
1726,  having  previously  prevailed  on  liis  beloved  Mar- 
garet to  become  his  wife  and  accompany  him  to  a 
strange  land.  Under  the  auspices  of  piety  and  honesty 
the  school  prospered  beyond  their  humble  hopes.  To 
them  were  born  a  son,  Eichard,  and  a  daughter,  Eliza- 
beth ;  the  latter  wounded  her  parents'  hearts  by  a  clan- 
destine marriage  with  Maurice  Eaynor,  a  young  man 
who  was  usher  to  her  father.  She  died  early  in  life, 
leaving  one  son,  William,  who  was  taken  by  his  gi-and- 


28  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITOKE.  [1/66. 

parents,  and  whom  Margaret  Shackleton,  (who  was 
somewhat  of  a  wit)  nsed  to  call  "  a  twig  of  the  rod." 
Behold  the  venerable  Abraham,  in  the  first  place 
devoting  his  time  to  the  duties  of  religion  and  the 
services  of  his  society,  then  indulging  his  taste  for 
cultivating  his  lands  and  planting,  having  resigned 
the  school  to  his  son  Eichard.  His  wife,  who  was 
some  years  older  than  he,  and  debilitated  by  rheumatic 
pains,  sate  by  her  fireside,  her  countenance  innocently 
sweet,  her  conversation  innocently  cheerful,  and  her 
heart  truly  humble.  Her  sister,  Mary  Barnard,  a  widow, 
was  stout  and  active  on  her  limbs,  but  being  deprived 
of  sight,  she  went  about  the  house,  felt  the  under  parts 
of  the  furniture  to  try  whether  all  was  clean ;  examined 
closely  the  bottom  of  her  petticoat  lest  a  jag  had  been 
worn ;  made  spring-pottage  and  sour-cake,  of  which  her 
friends  partook ;  was  led  among  her  poor  neighbours,  to 
whom  she  made  little  presents  of  a  halfpenny  lace,  a 
row  of  pins,  or  gifts  of  equal  value,  which  were  kindly 
accepted  from  the  simple,  honest-hearted  donor. 

I  hardly  recollect  the  ancient  mansion ;  the  large 
room  like  that  apartment  which  in  similar  residences 
in  Yorkshire  is  called  "  the  hoose  "  (neither  parlour  nor 
kitchen)  in  which  was  a  closet,  and  in  that  closet  an 
owl ;  the  parlour  where  the  afternoon  meeting  was 
held,  with  its  sashdoor  opening  into  the  garden,  and 
the  map  of  Dublin,  ornamented  by  pictures  of  its  re- 
markable buildings,  &c.  over  the  chimney-piece.  But 
"  the  Friends'  room,"  so  named  from  its  being  appropri- 
ated to  the  use  of  strangers,  impressed  my  young  fancy 


Sj66.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  29 

with  an  idea  of  superior  elegance  of  wliich  I  can  scarce 
divest  myself  even  now.  Perhaps  some  peacock's  fea- 
thers about  the  chimney-piece  caused  this  cliildish  error 
of  judgment.  The  ceiling  was  actually  supported  by 
props  to  prevent  it  from  falling  in,  and  the  crazy  state 
of  the  house  occasioned  no  little  uneasiness  in  stormy 
weather  to  the  friends  of  the  occupants,  though  I 
believe  not  to  themselves.  At  length  the  old  man  was 
prevailed  njjon  to  rebuild  ;  he  finished  the  kitchen  end, 
but  was  by  that  time  so  thoroughly  tired  of  artificers, 
that  he  resigned  the  completion  of  the  job  to  his 
daughter-in-law.  Their  grandsons  Abraham  Shaclde- 
ton  and  William  Raynor  resided  with  them ;  the  lat- 
ter was  a  child,  the  former  a  stripling  just  bursting 
out  into  that  brilliancy  of  talent  for  which  he  became 
distinguished,  and  which  was  veiled  by  amiable  mo- 
desty and  softened  by  good  nature ;  he  was  pronounced 
by  Mary  Barnard  a  child  who  could  not  be  spoiled, 
and  was  the  pride  and  darling  of  the  venerable  trio. 

The  forge  next  presents  itself,  at  the  extremity  of  a 
little  row  of  cabins.  Although  a  shattered-looking 
place,  it  was  well  frequented,  both  on  acconnt  of  busi- 
ness and  news  ;  nor  have  the  genteeler  sort  disdained 
to  sit  on  the  stone  bench  at  the  door.  Adjoining 
thereto  was  the  dwelling  of  the  proprietor,  Mick  Mur- 
ray, an  old  man  who  was  not  only  skilled  in  shoeing 
horses  and  prescribing  for  their  distempers,  but  occa- 
sionally drew  teeth  with  his  pincers.  He  is  reported 
to  have  once  lifted  my  mother  three  times  from  the 
floor,  in  his  fruitless  attempts  to  extract  a  tooth ;  and 


30  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^7^^ 

that  good  woman,  who  always  strove  to  be  relieved 
of  pain  of  body  or  mind  as  speedily  as  possible,  sate 
with  heroic  resolution  while  he  went  home  and  sharp- 
ened his  vile  instrument  to  complete  the  operation. 

The  abode  of  Peter  Widdows  adjoined  the  forge. 
He  was  by  trade  a  tailor,  and  by  religion  a  Quaker, 
though  he  had  been  disowned  for  marrying  his  maid 
servant,  who  was  not  a  member  of  the  Society.  He 
had  several  children.  Age  and  infirmity  had  overtaken 
him ;  and  when  bed-ridden  he  kept  a  little  school, 
sometimes  calling  his  son  Joseph  off  his  tailor's  board 
to  correct  untoward  pupils.  The  last  days  of  the  old 
man  were  favoured  with  peace.  He  once  proposed  to 
apprentice  his  son  Joseph  to  Richard  Shackleton  to  fit 
him  to  be  a  schoolmaster  ;  and,  being  asked  why  he 
did  not  teach  him  his  own  trade,  replied  that  his  son 
had  not  capacity  for  it.  The  son  did  not,  however, 
coincide  in  his  father's  choice  ;  for,  after  running  away 
(the  knight-errantry  of  schoolboys),  and  mistaking  Kil- 
cuUen  for  Dublin,  "  because  the  Liffey  ran  through  it," 
he  settled  down  to  the  trade  of  his  father,  at  whose 
death  he  became  master  of  the  cottage.  Having  a 
prospect  of  a  comfortable  livelihood,  he  obtained  the 
hand  of  Abigail  Pope,  a  young  woman  of  high  spirit, 
who  had  been  upper  servant  with  the  Pims  of  Tullalost, 
and  therefore  regarded  herself  as  allied  "  to  some  of  the 
top  families." 

The  ancient  mansion  of  the  Strettels  commanded, 
from  the  casement  windows  in  an  upper  room,  a  view 
of  the  street,  though  further  from  it  than  most  of  the 


1766.]  THE    ANNALS  OF   BALLITORE.  3 1 

other  houses.  Here  lived  the  widow  Taylor  and  her 
daughter,  with  frugal  neatness  and  exemplary  industry. 
The  widow  was  tall  and  thin,  and  had  the  remains  of 
beauty.  She  was  a  chatty  woman,  skilful  in  the  com- 
plaints of  children,  and  kind  in  assisting  by  advice 
and  attendance.  Her  name  was  Bridget,  but  she  gene- 
rally bore  the  ajDj^ellation  of  "  aunt."  About  this 
time,  while  going  to  Abraham  Shackleton's  one  windy 
evening,  wrapped  in  her  camlet  riding-hood,  which 
gathered  the  wmd,  she,  being  very  light,  was  blown 
into  the  river,  and  was  in  danger  of  perishing  before 
the  accident  was  discovered.  The  inflated  riding-hood 
bore  her  up  along  the  stream.  Her  daughter  Polly,  a 
fine  tall  blooming  young  woman,  appeared  to  me,  espe- 
cially when  adorned  with  a  stay-hook  set  with  shining 
stones,  a  beauty  so  resplendent  that  I  gazed  in  silent 
admiration.  She  was  prevailed  upon  by  my  mother  to 
take  my  younger  sister  and  me  as  day-scholars,  before 
we  went  to  my  father's  school.  We  were  very  care- 
fully taught  by  our  fair  instructress,  and  were  great 
favourites  with  her  and  her  mother.  Polly  Taylor 
afterwards  married  Joshua  Haughton,  and  was  known 
as  Molly  Haughton. 

Most  awkwardly  in  the  way  of  the  entrance  to  this 
mansion  was  the  end  of  Edward  Miles' s,  some  of  the 
apartments  of  which  being  quite  dark  gave  rise  to 
stories  that  the  house  was  haunted. 

The  buildings  which  joined  and  darkened  this  house 
were  partly  inhabited  by  journeymen  shoemakers.  One 
of  them  was  called  the  Ball-room,  and  there  the  school- 


32  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1766, 

boys  sometimes  footed  it  to  tlie  scrape  of  old  Bowden's 
fiddle,  which  disgusted  my  ears  with  its  discordant 
sounds,  when,  in  jDassmg  to  school,  I  sometimes  stole 
a  peep  at  what  went  on. 

Over  this  room  was  an  apartment  which  belonged  to 
Sarah  Braddock,  who  would  not  resign  it,  though 
offered  a  bed  at  Eichard  Shackleton's  house,  where  she 
lived  in  the  day-time,  and  where,  seated  in  a  low  arm- 
chair in  the  nursery,  she  was  constantly  employed  in 
mending  the  boys'  stockings.  We  youngsters  deemed 
her  of  a  peevish  temper  because  she  could  ill  bear  with 
our  cliildish  tricks,  for  wliich  some  of  us  wept  with 
remorse  at  her  burial.  A  young  lad  having  accident- 
ally broken  her  pipe,  and  being  unwilling  to  encounter 
her  resentment,  professed  ignorance  of  the  matter ;  but 
this  did  not  avail  him,  for  Sarah  declared  "  there  was 
not  a  Christian  in  the  nursery  but  himself  and  the  cat." 
Cats,  geese,  and  sparrows  were  high  in  her  favour,  and 
manifested  reciprocal  attachment.  As  our  family  were 
always  uneasy  when  she  became  unwell  at  her  lodging, 
she  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  to  stay  at  our  house, 
where  she  would  be  properly  attended  to.  The  day 
before  her  death,  my  father  sat  by  her  bed-side,  and 
spoke  of  the  peaceful  end  of  his  father.  "My  old 
master  !"  said  Sarah,  in  a  shrill  and  angry  tone  ; 
"  don't  tell  me  of  my  old  master.  If  I  was  as  good 
as  him,  I  would  not  be  afraid  to  die  to-night,  before 
to-morrow ;"  which  she  accordingly  did.     She  died  in 

1773. 
The  last  habitation  at  this  end  of  the  village  belonged 


1/66.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  ^^ 

to  the  widow  Jackson,  who  was  remarkable  for  speak- 
ing ill  of  nobody,  though  ever  so  bad.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  clergyman,  and  was  left  by  an  extrava- 
gant husband  in  reduced  circumstances.  She  valued 
her  descent  from  Bernard  Gilpin,  the  apostle  of  the 
JN'orth,  whose  life  she  was  pleased  to  find  in  a  biogra- 
phical dictionary.  Her  genteel  deportment  and  blame- 
less life  interested  her  neighbours.  Joseph  Wills  gave 
her  a  spot  of  ground,  others  I  suppose  assisted  her  in 
building  a  comfortable  cottage;  her  daughter  Julia  it  is 
said  made  some  of  the  inner  partitions  with  her  own 
hands.  This  was  a  fine  young  woman,  industrious  and 
ingenious,  full  of  health  and  vivacity,  but  she  fell  a 
victim  to  the  small  pox.  Her  mother's  sorrows  were 
soothed  by  the  worthy  rector  of  ISTarraghmore,  Eichard 
Beauchamp,  and  his  benevolent  Julia  (one  of  the  Kea- 
tinge  family),  who  took  her  into  their  house,  and  treated 
her  Avith  that  respect  and  affection  which  her  character 
deserved,  and  which  they  were  wont  to  bestow.  Her 
house  was  now  occasionally  inhabited  by  persons  wdio 
took  care  of  it  for  her,  and  kept  her  furniture,  &c.  locked 
up  in  the  parlour.  The  display  of  this  room,  with 
which  I  was  sometimes  indulged,  excited  sensations  of 
admiration  and  pleasure,  not  exceeded  wdien  the  won- 
derful productions  of  the  first  masters,  exhibited  in  the 
gallery  of  Sir  Joshua  Keynolds  or  at  Somerset  House, 
burst  on  my  view.  The  screen  on  which  "  The  Harlot's 
Progress"  was  depicted,  and  the  family  pictures  disposed 
about  the  walls,  especially  one  into  which  a  little  boy 
was  introduced  (rendered  more  interesting  by  hearing 


34  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1766. 

lie  liad  been  killed  by  a  fall  from  a  castle),  were  devoured 
by  my  greedy  eyes  "  with  ever  new  delight." 

But  I  leave  this  enclianting  scene,  and  return  upon 
my  steps  to  the  Burrow-gate,  proceeding  thence  up 
the  main  street  of  the  village,  where  the  habitation  of 
Joseph  Wills  first  attracts  us.  Joseph  was  a  man  re- 
tired from  business,  who  lived  upon  his  income  in  a 
genteel,  comfortable  style,  keeping  what  is  called  good 
company  and  a  good  table,  and  attentive  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  his  land  and  garden,  and  to  the  provision  of 
his  household.  He  was  elderly,  rather  low  in  stature, 
somewhat  corpulent,  and  his  nose  large  and  carbuncled ; 
he  wore  a  gold-laced  hat  and  waistcoat,  and  moved 
along  the  street  with  slow  and  stately  pace,  smoking 
out  of  a  long,  clean  pipe.  Thus  arrayed,  he  frequently 
walked  into  his  neighbours'  houses,  which  opened  with 
latches,  and  enquired  what  they  had  for  dinner,  at  the 
same  time  poking  his  staff  into  the  pot,  for  they  mostly 
sat  in  their  kitchens  in  the  forenoons.  This  familiarity 
was  of  course  not  always  acceptable.  Sarah  Fuller's 
servant  ran  in  to  warn  her  mistress  of  his  approach  : 
"  Here's  Mr.  Wills,  here's  INIr.  Wills  !"  but  she  was 
not  quick  enough.  "  Noble  intelligence  !"  retorted 
Joseph,  gravely,  as  he  followed  her.  He  had  his  sin- 
gularities, but  he  was  "respectable,"  and  Ehzabeth 
Shackleton  piqued  herself  on  being  always  on  good 
terms  with  him.  He  encouraged  and  assisted  her  taste 
for  gardening ;  he  delighted  in  dandling  her  sweet  little 
Eachael  and  receivuig  her  caresses,  and  avoided  the 
house  for  some  time  after  death  had  taken  from  thence 


1766,]         THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  35 

his  little  favourite  :  this  trait  of  tenderness  the  mother 
remembered  with  gratitude.  His  parlour  was  wain- 
scotted  and  hung  round  with  engraved  portraits,  but 
what  I  best  remember  was  a  closet  beside  the  parlour- 
fire,  from  wdiich  Joseph  failed  not  to  bring  comfits, 
which  he  dispensed  to  his  little  guests.  The  back 
window  faced  the  principal  w^alk  of  the  flower-garden  ; 
the  borders  on  either  hand  were  decorated  with  sweet 
peas  chmbing  up  painted  sticks.  From  this  garden 
moss-rose  trees  were  first  introduced  amongst  us. 

We  now  reach  Jonathan  Haughton's.  It  was  about 
this  time  that  worthy  man  was  deprived  of  the  society 
of  a  valuable  and  amiable  wife.  The  care  of  the  house- 
hold and  younger  children  devolved  upon  Hannah,  then 
about  thirteen,  and  admirably  did  she  perform  those 
duties  with  prudence,  economy,  and  affection ;  but  care 
early  furrowed  her  youthful  brow  and  damped  the  viva- 
city of  her  age.  The  other  children  were  John,  Debby, 
Sally,  and  little  Joe.  Debby  was  tw^o  months  elder 
than  I,  Sally  six  months  younger  than  my  sister  Sally, 
so  that  nature  seemed  to  present  to  each  of  us  a  chosen 
friend.  The  tie  was  early  formed,  and,  like  ties  formed 
at  that  age,  peculiarly  tender  and  pecuharly  strong.  Ye 
sweet  companions  of  my  childhood,  whose  loss  I  have 
never  ceased  to  regret ;  although  surrounded  by  dear 
friends  and  dear  relations,  death  has  not  been  able  to 
loosen  that  tie  !  The  father  of  this  family  was  one  of 
the  most  amiable  of  men.  Possessed  of  no  shining 
abilities,  he  possessed  what  was  of  more  value — a  heart 
moulded  by  benevolence,  which  impressed  his  counte- 

3* 


^6  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1766. 

nance.  A  husband  and  father  tender  to  a  great  degree, 
a  kind  master,  a  true  friend,  and  one  of  the  best  of 
neighbours,  his  affectionate  attentions  extended  to  chil- 
dren. I  remember  the  resohitions  I  haxe  made  not  to 
approach  his  knees  when  he  came  to  sit  a  while  with 
my  grandmother  and  aunt,  because  I  was  sensible  that 
I  could  not  keep  within  bounds  when  Jonathan  began 
to  play  with  me,  which  he  surely  would, — but  the 
temptation  always  proved  too  strong  for  my  resistance. 
The  Great  House  was  at  this  time  inhabited  by  Lee 
Masters,  an  English  gentleman  of  fortune,  whimsical, 
and  who  frequently  changed  the  place  of  his  residence. 
His  wife  seems  to  have  partaken  of  his  whims,  for  we 
heard  of  her  haAong  drank  tea  one  evening  on  the 
bridge,  a  freak  which  might  have  been  attended  with 
inconvenience,  if  the  bridge  had  been  half  so  much  of 
a  thoroughfare  as  it  is  now,  for  it  was  then  but  half  its 
present  width. 


4^ 


37 


CHAPTEE  II. 

1766. 

Sketch  of  the  Annalist's  parents,  Richard  and  Elizabeth  Shack, 
leton. — The  school-house  and  garden. — Elizabeth  Haughton^ 
William  Gill,  and  John  Buckley. — Ballitore  School. — French 
and  Norwegian  pupils. — Story  of  Aldborough  Wrightson. — 
Edmund  Burke  an    '^  old  Ballitore  boy." — Anecdotes  of  his 

childhood  and  boyhood His  subsequent  visits  to  Ballitore. — 

Fuller's  Court,  its  inhabitants  and  its  early  attractions. — No- 
tices of  George  Rooke,  one  of  the  early  Quaker  patriarchs. — 
His  daughter  Rachael,  and  granddaughter  Deborah  Carleton. — 
Tom  and  Sam  Eyre  __         __         __         __         __       37  to  68 

gALLITOEE  SCHOOL,  at  the  earliest  period  to 
wliich  my  memory  extends,  was  kept  by  my  father 
Eichard  Shackleton,  who  was  then  in  the  prime  of  life. 
He  was  carefully  educated  by  his  parents,  according  to 
the  system  prevailing  in  the  time  of  his  childhood, 
which  occasioned  greater  restraint  and  awe  of  parental 
authority  than  that  which  he  adopted  in  the  education 
of  his  own  children.  In  early  life,  although,  from  the 
liveliness  of  his  disposition,  exposed  to  temptation,  he 
turned  his  back  upon  the  allurements  of  the  world,  and 
embraced  religion  with  a  heart  sincerely  devoted  to  it. 
He  married  Elizabeth  Fuller,  an  amiable  and  worthy 
young  woman,  to  wliom  he  had  been  long  attached,  and 


38  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1766. 

who  left  liim  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight  a  sorrowful 
widower  with  four  young  children  ;  the  last  of  whom,  a 
son,  was  born  shortly  before  the  death  of  his  mother, 
and  survived  her  only  two  years.  Shortly  after  the 
death  of  this  child,  Eichard  Shackleton  married  Eliza- 
beth Carleton.  She  lived  in  Dubhn  with  her  mother 
and  sister,  and  their  little  property  was  managed  with 
respectable  economy.  In  her  youth  she  indulged  in 
dress  as  far  as  possible,  she  had  a  musical  ear,  she  sang, 
and  had  an  uncommon  taste  for  drawing.  Before  the  sea- 
son of  youth  was  past  she  renounced  those  delights,  and 
was  faithful  and  diligent  in  doing  what  she  beheved  to 
be  her  duty.  Her  adopted  children  witnessed  this,  and 
they  repaid  her  kindness  with  filial  affection.  Lads 
have  been  educated  in  the  family,  and  were  surprised  to 
hear  afterwards  that  my  father's  children  were  born  of 
different  mothers.  The  worthy  pair  were  desirous 
above  all  things  to  promote  the  cause  of  truth  and 
righteousness,  and  were  anxiously  concerned  faithfully 
to  discharge  the  arduous  occupation  in  which  they  were 
engaged.  Eichard  Shackleton  was  a  man  of  wit  and 
learning,  he  had  a  genius  for  poetry,  and  was  conversant 
with  the  classics.  Superior  to  these  was  liis  deep  and 
solid  understanding,  and,  far  excelling  all,  an  honest  and 
benevolent  heart ;  these  he  possessed.  His  conversa- 
sation  was  delightful,  for  he  was  unassuming  and  con- 
descending;  it  was  instructive,  for  amid  the  blaze  of 
superior  talents  humility  shone  unrivalled.  He  was  the 
gentleman,  the  scholar,  and  the  Christian.  His  cheer- 
ful temper  caused  him  to  enjoy  every  good,  while  his 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  39 

pious  resignation  taiiglit  liim  to  bear  what  is  called 
evil  with  quiet  submission.  His  temper  was  naturally 
quick,  but  his  generous  mind  was  ever  ready  to  atone. 
His  wife  had  not  his  liveliness  of  disposition ;  she  was 
grave,  circumspect,  and  cautious,  perhaps  to  an  extreme. 
She  took  upon  herself  the  care  of  all  within  and  with- 
out, and  entered  into  the  affairs  of  her  poor  neighbours, 
not  from  curiosity  but  kindness.  The  multiplicity  of 
her  cares  at  times  caused  her  much  anxiety,  yet,  being 
regular  in  her  habits,  she  probably  got  through  them 
with  more  ease  than  if  she  had  more  quickness  of  action 
and  disposition.  Her  relaxation  consisted  m  the  culti- 
vation of  her  garden,  from  which  she  extracted  much 
pleasure,  and  she  was  curious  in  her  collection  of 
flowers.  With  an  improved  and  solid  understanding 
she  had  much  simpUcity  of  character,  and  it  was  not 
difficult  to  impose  upon  her ;  but  I  believe  few  had  the 
heart  to  injure  her  materially,  she  was  so  much  beloved. 
It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  the  simple  and  artless 
penetrate  into  the  characters  and  motives  of  others 
more  readily  than  those  do  who  are  busy  concealing 
their  own.  This  good  woman  possessed  great  tender- 
ness of  heart,  and  was  a  cordial  sympathiser  with  the 
sick  and  afflicted. 

Casting  their  cares  upon  Providence,  this  exemplary 
couple  felt  the  shackles  of  the  world  hang  loose  about 
them.  Their  duties  to  the  children  intrusted  to  their 
care  were  conscientiously  fulfilled,  and  the  grateful  love 
which  their  pupils  retained  for  them  was  a  convincing 
l)roof  of  it.   They  were  useful  members  of  their  religious 


40  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1766. 

society,  and,  with  clean  hands  and  in  the  meekness  of 
Avisdom,  were  qnalified  to  take  an  active  part  in  con- 
ducting the  affairs  of  the  church.  They  attended  the 
general  meetings  very  constantly,  and  Eichard  Shac- 
kleton  took  a  method  with  his  pupils  which  was  well 
calculated  to  maintain  order  in  his  absence.  He  gave 
in  charge  to  the  eldest  boy,  or  to  him  whom  he 
suspected  of  being  most  likely  to  give  trouble,  a  por- 
tion of  care  over  the  rest ;  he  arranged  matters  to  the 
best  of  his  knowledge  ;  he  addressed  the  boys  in  gene- 
ral ;  and,  above  all,  he  Oi3enly  committed  them  to  the 
care  of  Providence. 

The  house  which  contained  the  family  was  large  ; 
and,  though  old  and  inelegant,  was  comfortable,  and  be- 
came by  dint  of  improvement  convenient.  Between 
the  house  and  garden  was  a  large  yard,  with  two 
squares  of  grass  for  the  boys  to  play  on.  The  piers  of 
the  garden  gate  were  covered  with  iv}^,  the  berries  of 
which  had  been  sown  by  James  Mc  Connaughty  the  day 
my  sister  Sally  was  born,  the  6th  of  Sixth-month, 
1760.  A  broad  walk  reached  from  the  garden-gate  to 
the  old  arbour  of  ycAv  at  the  upper  end  of  the  kitchen- 
garden,  in  which  were  planted  several  apple-trees.  So 
far  as  the  walk  continued  through  the  flower-garden,  it 
was  gravelled  ;  thence  it  became  a  grass  walk,  and  had 
at  each  side  thick  yew  hedges,  in  the  ends  of  which,  as 
they  were  intersected  by  cross-walks,  chairs  were  cut. 
In  the  flower-garden  were  two  large  yew-trees,  all  of 
which  my  mother  used  to  have  trimmed  with  care, 
except  the  tops,  which  she  hoped  in  time  to  form  into 


1766.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  4 1 

an  arch.  The  tardy  branches  were  at  length  extending 
to  meet  her  hopes,  when,  in  hickless  hour,  Fardy  the 
gardener,  either  ignorant  or  forgetful  of  the  wishes  of 
his  mistress,  rounded  off  the  tops  with  great  dexterity 
and  ill-timed  officiousness.  I  need  not  add  what  T'ex- 
ation  and  disappointment  ensued. 

At  the  head  of  the  household  was  placed  Elizabeth 
Haughton,  a  near  relation  of  Eichard  Shackleton's  first 
wife,  who,  being  left  a  widow  in  narrow  circumstances, 
accepted  of  this  charge,  her  two  children  being  taken 
in  also.  She  was  a  religious  woman,  of  an  excellent 
disposition,  kind  and  humane ;  and  "  cousin  Betty " 
was  universally  respected  and  beloved. 

The  steward  was  William  Gill,  a  man  of  strict  and 
approved  fidelity.  He  was  advanced  in  years,  of  a 
portly  person  and  comely  countenance.  He  had  served 
Abraham  Shackleton  in  the  days  when  Edmund  Burke 
went  to  school  to  him,  and  was  attached  to  that  great 
and  amiable  man  by  those  ties  of  affection  and  admira- 
tion which  bound  all  who  knew  him. 

There  also  lived  in  the  family,  at  this  time,  an  old 
man  named  John  Buckley,  son  of  Allan  Buckley,  a 
shoe-maker,  to  whom  Richard  Shackleton  and  Edmund 
Burke  resorted  when  they  were  boys,  when  Edmund 
used  to  amuse  himself  making  mathematical  figures 
out  of  Allan's  wax.  I  supposed  Allan  was  a  Quaker, 
for  his  remains  were  laid  in  our  graveyard  ;  and  his 
son  with  pious  attention  dressed  his  grave,  a  mark  of 
filial  affection  which  refiected  more  honour  than  the 
headstone  placed  at  the  grave  of  Abel  Strettel.     John 


42  THE  ANXALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1766. 

continued  this  affectionate  office  wliile  lie  was  able. 
He  had  been  a  soldier,  was  tall,  thin,  and  upright,  and 
much  older  than  he  appeared  to  be,  cheerful,  lively, 
and  quick  in  temper ;  yet  during  his  occasional  fits  of 
illness  he  felt  much  distress  of  mind,  approaching  to 
despair.  His  duties  were  to  assist  in  cleaning  the 
shoes  and  knives,  to  cut  the  bread,  attend  the  boys' 
table,  and  announce  at  the  schoolroom  door  when  the 
meals  were  ready.  His  age  was  considered  with  ten- 
derness ;  indeed  no  burdens  were  laid  upon  any  ;  and 
I  believe  it  was  thought  Elizabeth  Shackleton  was  too 
indulgent  a  mistress.  When  Johnny  grew  very  old 
and  feeble,  she  thought  proper  to  make  him  a  bowl  of 
Salop  every  evening,  which  at  first  was  grateful  to  his 
failing  appetite  ;  but  I  was  once  greatly  surprised  when 
I  brought  him  the  well-seasoned  draught,  that  he  took 
it  from  me  in  a  pet,  and  hastened  to  the  scullery.  I 
followed,  enquiring  what  he  meant  to  do  with  it.  "  To 
throw  it  down  the  sink,'^  said  Johnny,  "for  I  am  tired 
of  it."  Of  course  no  more  salop  was  made  ;  but  the 
peevishness  of  age  and  infirmity  was  passed  by  without 
exciting  resentment. 

The  inferior  servants,  who  were  generally  Eoman 
Catholics,  often  lived  in  the  house  imtil  they  were 
married,  when  they  were  treated  to  a  wedding  supper, 
and  continued  to  be  friends  after  they  ceased  to  be 
servants. 

The  school  mostly  consisted  of  fifty,  and  sometimes 
sixty  boarders,  besides  day-scholars.  There  were  gene- 
rally a  few  parlour-boarders,  who  were,  for  the  most 


1766.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  43 

part,  grown  young  men.  Several  French  men  and  boys 
came  here  in  the  time  of  my  grandfather,  to  learn 
English,  and  they  left  the  name  of  "the  French  room" 
to  a  large  apartment  in  which  they  slept. 

Two  Norwegians  were  also  sent  to  this  school,  the 
only  natives  of  that  country  who  were  ever  at  it.  They 
were  both  from  Drontheim,  perfect  strangers  to  one 
another,  and  each  was  sent  to  Ballitore  in  order  to  be 
entirely  out  of  the  way  of  meeting  with  a  fellow  coun- 
tryman. They  came  much  about  the  same  time.  The 
elder  was  Svend  Peter  Stuberg ;  the  other  Laurence 
Nicholas  Zelius,  a  beautiful  gentle  youth.  He  did  not 
appear  so  quick  in  capacity  as  Stuberg,  who  was  older 
and  rougher,  and  quite  baffled  Zehus  by  speaking  his 
own  language  to  him  ;  so  that  he  could  make  no  pro- 
gress in  English,  and  was  obliged  to  quit  the  school, 
more  regretted  by  others  than  by  his  countryman,  who, 
it  was  thought,  looked  u^^on  him  as  a  rival  in  the  affec- 
tions of  the  family  and  neighbours.  Peter  then  had 
the  field  to  himself ;  he  soon  spoke  and  wrote  English 
with  facility ;  and  amazed  the  villagers  with  his  won- 
derful stories  of  northern  superstition.  After  he  left, 
he  for  several  years  kept  up  a  correspondence  with  the 
family  ;  presents  were  interchanged  of  the  produce  of 
the  two  countries  ;  and  once  he  paid  us  a  visit,  at 
which  time  I  remember  him  playing  on  a  German  flute 
at  the  lime-kiln  in  the  Mill-avenue,  and  remarking  the 
effect  of  the  echo.  He  told  us  he  was  about  to  marry 
a  fine  young  woman  of  his  own  country,  who  was 
"  very  like  Betsy  Pirn." 


44  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  [^7^^- 

Aldborougli   Wrightson,    whose   short  but  eventful 
history   makes   no   uninteresting   part   of  the  village 
annals,  was  born  in  1746  ;  and,  with  liis  elder  brother 
Thomas,  M^as  sent  to  Ballitore  school  in  1754.     He  was 
a  beautiful  sprightly  child.      Aldborough  went  to  col- 
lege, but  on  his  brother's  death,  his  father,  a  wealthy 
alderman,  wished  him  to  supply  the  vacant  place  in 
his  counting-house  ;  and  his  mother  would  have  desired 
him  to  go  of  her  errands  to  her  milliner  and  man- 
teau-maker,  and  to  attend  her  in  that  round  of  diver- 
sions which,  in  one  of  his  last  letters,  he  said  "  had 
frittered  away  her   understanding."      His  high  spirit 
and  taste  for  letters  not  corresponding  with  their  views, 
he  became  irregular  in  his  habits  ;  which  would  have 
been  freely  pardoned  by  his  parents  had  he  entered 
into  their  plans,  but  as  he  did  not,  these  irregularities- 
served  as  a   pretext   for   holding   him  at  a   distance, 
though  once  their  beloved,  and  now  their  only  son. 
It  is  just  within  the  compass  of  my  memory  his  being 
taken  dangerously  ill,  either  with  a  spitting  of  blood 
which  brought  him  very  low,  or  with  a  mortification  in 
his  thumb  which  was  afterwards  amputated,  and  for 
which  operation  he  strove  to  prepare  liimself  by  the 
Stoic  philosophy  that  pain  was  no  evil.     At  one  of 
those  times  his  father  and  mother  came  down  for  him  ; 
not  so  soon  as  he  expected,  it  seems,  for  the  idea  pre- 
sents itself  to  my  memory  of  the  languishing  youth 
reclined  in  a  straw  arm-chair,  and  his  mother  rushing 
into  the  pari  our  \Aath  maternal   haste,   wringing   her 
hands,  and  exclaiming,  "Did  you  not  think  we  were 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  45 

brutes  f  Her  heart  was  not  callous  then  :  how  it 
afterwards  became  so  I  cannot  explain.  It  was  thought 
that  interest  fomented  family  dissensions.  When 
Aldborough  was  displeased  or  displeasing  at  home,  he 
was  sent  to  Ballitore,  an  exile  from  his  father's  house  ; 
and  he  always  found  a  father  in  his  old  master, 
although  not  by  any  means  dependant  on  him,  for  his 
father  made  him  an  allowance  for  his  ordinary  wants. 
If  Wrightson  had  been  irregular  in  his  habits,  nothing 
of  this  appeared  in  his  conduct  in  Ballitore.  He  was 
to  his  master's  children  as  an  elder  brother  ;  he  en- 
couraged in  young  Abraham  Shackleton  the  love  of 
Literature,  and  I  believe  by  example  and  precept  coun- 
selled him  well.  The  elder  girls  were  driven  by  liim 
with  some  harshness  into  the  parlour,  if  he  found  them 
associating  with  servants  or  other  company  which  he 
disapproved  of.  With  the  younger  ones  he  often 
joined  in  their  childish  plays,  from  which  he  appeared 
to  extract  as  much  delight  as  they  did.  I  have  some 
pride  in  saying  I  was  a  peculiar  favourite  of  his  ;  he 
quarrelled  with  my  mother  for  not  getting  me  inocu- 
lated for  the  small-jDOx  :  some  silly  rhymes  I  made  at 
about  seven  years  of  age  he  seemed  delighted  with,  and 
insisted  upon  my  being  taught  Latui,  which  my  mother 
and  aunt  unfortunately  prevented,  from  a  mistaken 
notion  that  it  would  increase  an  impediment  in  my 
speech.  He  taught  me  some  Greek  verses  and  some 
beautiful  lines  of  Cowley  ;  strove  to  correct  my  walk 
and  carriage  ;  now  commended,  and  then  scolded  me  ; 
and,  fearing  him  more  than  either,  I  loved  him  next 


4-6  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

to  my  father  and  James  Mc  Connauglity.  He  did  not 
attend  school,  for  lie  was  fully  supplied  with  the  trea- 
sures of  learning,  and  his  conversation,  abounding  in 
good  sense,  was  enlivened  by  sallies  of  wit  expressed 
Avith  such  elegant  simplicity,  that  even  I,  a  child, 
understood  and  admired  them.  I  cannot  but  think 
that  in  his  vigorous  turn  of  mind  and  extent  of  genius 
he  strongly  resembled  the  great  Burke.  His  letters 
at  the  same  age  are  fully  equal,  and  very  similar  in 
style,  to  those  of  our  dear  honoured  Edmund.  But 
Wrightson  was  early  crushed  into  the  grave.  Burke 
grew  and  flourished,  the  ornament  of  an  admiring 
world  !  Let  us  hope  that  their  spirits  have  met  in 
that  kingdom  where  human  policy  and  human  acquire- 
ments are  no  more. 

Eichard  Shackleton's  intimacy  with  Edmund  Burke 
commenced  when  Edmund  was  the  pupil  of  old  Abra- 
ham Shackleton,  from  whose  school  he  entered  Trinity 
College  in  the  year  1744.  He  came  to  Ballitore  with 
his  elder  brother  Garrett,  and  his  younger  brother  Eich- 
ard, on  the  26th  of  Eifth-month,  1 741.  They  had  been 
when  very  young  at  school  with  an  old  woman  who 
was  so  cross,  and  they  resented  her  crossness  so  much, 
that  one  holiday  the  three  little  fellows  set  out  for  her 
cabin  with  intent  to  kill  her.  As  her  good  genius 
would  have  it,  she  happened  to  be  from  home,  and  their 
fit  of  fury  evaporated  before  the  next  opportunity. 
Garrett  Burke,  who  had  a  great  turn  for  humour,  was 
an  eminent  lawyer,  and  died  before  my  time.  His 
brother  Eichard  could  not  be  excelled  by  him  in  the 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  47 

talent  for  drollery,  and  it  is  well  known  that  Edmund 
also  had  his  share. 

Burke's  friendship  with  Eichard  Shackleton  grew 
with  their  growth  and  strengthened  with  their  strength, 
and  lasted  to  the  end  of  their  lives.  My  mother  cordi- 
ally entered  into  the  attachment  of  her  husband.  She 
had  first  seen  Edmund  when,  on  a  journey  before  her 
marriage,  she  called  at  Ballitore.  Both  he  and  his  friend 
were  remarkably  short-sighted,  and  they  were  trying 
which  could  read  best  by  twilight.  I  cannot  forget  the 
first  visit  which  occurred  in  my  time  of  this  illustrious 
man  to  Ballitore.  Edmund  Burke  was  expected  ;  we 
naturally  loved  every  friend  of  our  parents,  but  to  these 
predilections  were  superadded  sentiments  of  respect  and 
admiration  in  the  present  instance,  which  caused  his 
visit  to  be  expected  w^ith  impatient  wonder.  The  chaise 
stopped  at  the  big  gate,  which  unfolded  wide,  and  my 
imagination  still  presents  the  graceful  form  of  Edmund, 
as  I  beheld  him  from  the  nursery  ^vindow,  leading  in 
his  Avife,  a  pretty  little  woman,  with  no  covering  on 
her  head  but  her  beautiful  unadorned  auburn  tresses. 
On  Elizabeth  Shackleton  expressing  surprise  that  she 
wore  no  cap,  in  wliich  respect  she  was  singular  at  that 
time,  she  said  that  she  dressed  conformably  to  her  hus- 
band's taste;  however,  she  promised  to  put  on  one,  and 
next  morning  appeared  in  the  first  French  night-cap 
that  was  ever  seen  in  Ballitore.  The  plain  dress  of 
Edmund  disappointed  my  expectation,  and  I  thought 
the  postillion's  habit,  daubed  with  livery  lace,  much  more 
elegant :  the  sight  of  our  guest's  laced  waistcoat,  how- 


48  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [j'j66. 

ever,  a  little  reconciled  me.  Yet,  when,  in  taking  a 
survey  of  the  family  of  his  friend,  he  stood  over  me  as  I 
sat  in  a  little  chair  and  viewed  me  through  the  glass 
which  assisted  his  short  sight,  I  felt  so  abashed  and  con- 
fused that  I  directly  annexed  the  idea  of  austerity  to  his 
countenance  ;  nor  could  the  testimony  of  many  wit- 
nesses efface  that  idea,  till  I  afterwards  saw  him  in 
London  in  the  year  1784,  when  with  a  very  uncommon 
sensation  of  pleasure  and  surprise  it  was  at  once  put 
to  flight ;  for  never  did  I  see  so  much  benignity  and 
intelligence  united,  as  in  the  manly  beauty  of  that 
countenance,  in  wliich  were  blended  the  expressions  of 
every  superior  quality  of  the  head  and  of  the  heart. 
This  visit  was  previous  to  the  purchase  of  Beaconslield, 
and  to  his  "  taking  root  in  England,"  as  he  expressed 
it. 

He  was  frequently  in  Ireland,  and  of  course  often 
in  Balhtore.  At  one  time  my  mother,  while  walking 
in  the  fields  at  the  foot  of  the  jSTine -tree-hill,  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  a  familiar  voice  behind  her  ;  she  turned 
and  beheld  Edmund  Burke,  who  was  going  in  search 
of  her,  and  having  just  arrived,  took  some  path  re- 
membered by  him  which  she  did  not  know  of,  and 
had  got  behind  her.  Their  little  son  sometimes  accom- 
panied them  in  their  visits,  in  one  of  which  he  was 
in  disgrace  with  liis  mother,  and  she  kejot  him  at  a 
distance  ;  but  the  fond  father  was  solicitous  to  put  up 
a  bit  of  bread  for  him  when  they  were  setting  out. 
He  was  now  the  only  child,  for  they  had  buried  another 
son.     My  father  and  mother  went  once  to  visit  Ed- 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  49 

miind  at  Dublin  Castle,  where  he  had  apartments, 
and  found  him  seated  on  the  floor  playing  with  his 
two  little  boys.  Edmund  brought  a  painter  with  him 
at  one  time,  Eichard  Sesson,  a  man  of  talent,  and 
prevailed  on  my  dear  father  to  sit  for  his  picture  ;  he 
consented,  though  it  was  against  his  judgment,  as  not 
consonant  to  the  practice  of  our  Society.  Probably  for 
this  reason  an  expression  of  mieasiness  appears  on  the 
portrait,  although  it  is  otherwise  a  good  likeness.  The 
portrait  of  his  old  master,  Abraham  Shackleton,  was 
also  longed  for  by  his  illustrious  pupil ;  but  he  durst 
not  request  it.  To  the  conversation  of  the  two  accom- 
plished friends,  which  was  indeed  "  a  feast  of  reason  and 
a  flow  of  soul,"  young  Wrightson  listened  with  delight, 
but  with  that  silent  modesty  which  is  often  the  com- 
panion and  ornament  of  exalted  minds,  especially  in 
youth.  Eichard  Shackleton,  suddenly  turning  to  his 
pupil^  enquired,  ^vith  that  liveliness  peculiar  to  him, 
why  he  did  not  speak,  assuring  his  friend  that  he 
could  speak,  and  to  the  purpose.  The  youth  blushed. 
Edmund  grew  angry,  and  retorted  fiercely,  "  You  insult 
his  modesty." 

My  father  used  to  delight  in  detailing  instances  of 
Burke's  singular  aptitude,  and  how  soon  he  attained  a 
superior  station  amongst  his  schoolfellows,  many  of 
whom  he  readily  assisted  in  tlieii*  exercises.  He 
showed  thus  early  his  capacity  for  exerting  his  abilities 
on  a  sudden  emergency,  and  of  turning  the  ideas  of 
others  to  useful  account.  Burke  and  his  schoolfellows 
were  permitted  one  day  to  go  and  see  the  procession 


5©  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLTTORE.  [lj66. 

of  the  judges  into  the  county  town  of  Athy,  on  con- 
dition that  each  of  the  senior  lads  should  write  a  de- 
scription of  the  spectacle  in  Latin  verse.  When  Burke 
finished  his  own  task,  he  was  earnestly  solicited  by 
another  lad  to  assist  him,  the  poor  fellow  declaring 
that  he  had  laboured  in  vain  for  hours  to  knock  some- 
thing out  of  his  brains,  and  that  rather  than  try  again 
he  would  walk  barefooted  to  the  top  of  Lugnaquilla, 
which  is  the  loftiest  of  the  Wicklow  mountains,  about 
twelve  Irish  miles  from  Ballitore.  He  reminded  Ms 
schoolfellow  how  often  he  had  helj)ed  him  before,  and 
said  that  this  was  the  hardest  task  he  ever  got.  Burke 
was  for  the  moment  somewhat  puzzled  how  he  could 
compose  a  second  paper  on  the  same  subject  ;  and, 
hoping  to  obtain  some  hint  for  the  composition,  he 
asked  the  applicant  what  had  struck  him  as  most 
remarkable  in  the  procession.  The  lad  replied  that  he 
had  noticed  nothing  in  particular,  except  a  fat  piper  in 
a  brown  coat.  Furnished  with  this  hint,  Burke  imme- 
diately commenced  and  in  a  very  short  time  completed 
a  humorous  poem  in  doggrel  Latin ;  the  first  line  of 
which  was  as  follows  : — 

"  Piper  erat  fattus,  qui  brownnm  tegmen  habebat." 

He  loved  humour,  and  my  father  was  very  witty. 
The  two  friends  sharpened  their  intellect  and  sported 
their  wit  till  peals  of  laughter  in  the  schoolroom  often 
caused  the  reverend  and  grave  master  to  implore  them, 
with  suppressed  smiles,  to  desist,  or  he  should  have  to 
turn  them  both  out,  as  their  example  might  be  followed 


OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  JESUS  CHRIST 

1766.]    of^fcAm&i^'^^^ftMs        51 

where  folly  and  iij)roar  woul^  take 'the  place  of  humour 
and  wisdom.  Burke's  heart  was  tender,  too,  and  my 
father  was  wont  to  relate  a  circumstance  which  proved 
that  in  boyhood,  as  well  as  in  riper  years,  he  felt  an 
invincible  hatred  to  oppression.  A  poor  man  having 
been  compelled  to  pull  down  his  cabin,  because  the 
surveyor  of  roads  declared  that  it  stood  too  near  the 
highway,  Burke,  who  saw  the  reluctant  owner  perform 
his  melancholy  task,  observed  with  great  indignation, 
that  if  he  were  in  authority  such  tyranny  should  never 
be  exercised  with  impunity  over  the  defenceless ;  and 
he  urged  his  schoolfellows  to  join  in  rebuilding  the 
cottage.  My  grandfather,  however,  would  not  permit 
tliis  to  be  done. 

The  mansion-house  in  Fuller's  Court  was  inhabited 
by  the  widow  Sarah  Fuller.  Her  family  consisted  of 
her  three  daughters  and  three  sons  ;  Deborah  Watson, 
mother  of  her  late  husband,  and  Mary  Pirn,  who  were 
boarders  ;  and  occasionally  boys  who  boarded  there  to 
attend  the  school.  She  was  of  the  Duckett  family ; 
a  very  clever,  domestic  character,  kind  and  goodna- 
tured,  rather  high,  yet  not  very  polite  in  her  manners. 
Although  her  kitchen  inspu^ed  a  laudable  ambition  in 
the  neighbourhood,  it  ever  retained  its  pre-eminence, 
unrivalled  in  cleanliness.  The  dresser  shone  with  pew- 
ter bright  as  silver,  and  brass  and  copper-pots  shining 
like  gold.  I  do  suspect  that  some  of  these  were  kept 
chiefly  for  ornament,  and  that  Aunt  Fuller  Avas  not 
without  some  vanity  in  the  display.  A  little  book- 
closet  beside  the  kitchen  fire  often  attracted  my  obser- 


52  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

vation :  it  was  also  attracted  by  the  china  cupboard 
behind  it,  which  opened  into  the  parlour,  into  wliich 
I  seized  every  opportunity  of  getting  a  peep.  The 
parlours  were  nicely  kept ;  a  sash-door  opened  into  the 
garden,  well  kept  also  and  well  cultivated,  quite  in  the 
antique  taste,  with  large  yew  and  holly  trees,  and  a 
bower  of  yew,  which  at  my  request,  many  years  after 
tliis  period,  was  rescued  from  the  axe, — for,  though 
whatever  beauty  it  had  possessed  was  gone,  my  father 
had  courted  his  first  wife  in  that  bower,  and  therefore 
it  remained  an  object  of  veneration.  A  jessamine  tree 
not  only  surrounded  the  parlour  window,  but  made  its 
way  inside.  How  I  have  delighted  to  pass  and  repass 
the  dairy  window,  which  also  looked  into  the  garden, 
inhaling  the  sweetness  and  freshness  from  within,  min- 
gled with  the  fragrance  of  the  woodbine  from  without. 
Beyond  the  garden  was  an  orchard,  where  the  ground 
was  white  with  snowdrojos  in  spring.  Here  was  the 
bleachgreen  for  the  clothes,  the  large  stone  to  beetle 
them  on,  and  a  hole  cut  through  a  tree  for  a  cider-press, 
and  steps  down  to  the  water  wliich  ran  between  two 
hedge-rows  at  one  side  of  the  garden  ;  the  banks  were 
high  and  narrow,  and,  for  what  reason  I  know  not,  it 
was  called  "  the  Sconce."  At  the  termination  of  a 
walk  which  led  through  the  orchard  was  a  red  door, 
which  I  often  contemplated  with  a  wish  to  pass  this 
ne  plus  ultra.  Seldom  was  it  opened ;  but  when  it 
was,  some  lofty  trees,  and  a  bubbling  stream,  which  I 
supposed  to  be  a  fountain,  and,  above  all,  the  charm 


1766.]  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  53 

of  novelty  made  that  appear  a  delightful  spot  into 
which  the  red  door  admitted  us. 

Deborah  Watson,  the  mother  of  my  father's  first  wife, 
was  possessed  of  considerable  intellectual  endowments, 
and  amiable,  engaging  manners,  and  was  dearly  loved 
by  my  father.  She  had  married  a  second  husband, 
worthy  Samuel  Watson  of  Kilconnor,  when,  both  were 
advanced  in  age,  and  she  survived  him.  She  was  a 
woman  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  daughter  of  John 
Barcroft  of  truly  honourable  memory,  a  man  of  liberal 
mind,  universal  benevolence,  cultivated  understanding, 
and  deep  humility ;  thus  have  I  heard  my  father  de- 
scribe him.  He  had  but  two  children  who  survived 
him,  both  daughters,  one  of  whom  married  John  Pim 
of  Edenderry,  and  left  a  large  family  of  daughters  and 
one  son.  This  son  had  several  daughters,  most  of 
whom  were  married — one  of  them  to  Thomas  Bewley. 
The  eldest,  Mary,  remained  single,  was  now  elderly, 
and  boarded  at  Aunt  Puller's.  She  had  a  strong  and 
well-cultivated  understanding,  was  much  attached  to 
her  relations,  and  was  the  most  eminent  knitter  of  her 
time. 

Forming  an  angle  with  Sarah  Fuller's  house  was  the 
abode  of  my  grandmother  Eachel  Carleton  and  her 
daughter  Deborah.  Eachel  Carleton  was  daughter  of 
the  venerable  George  Eooke,  a  man  whose  sweet  and 
gentle  disposition  made  him  as  much  beloved  as  his 
piety  commanded  respect.  He  was  a  native  of  Cumber- 
land ;  he  joined  the  Society  of  Friends  when  a  youth, 
and  became  a  public  preacher  amongst  them,  in  which 


J4  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1766. 

capacity  he  frequently  travelled  from  home.  In  one 
of  his  journeys  to  Ireland  he  became  acquainted  with 
Joan,  daughter  of  John  Cook  of  Limerick.  She  had 
married  early  in  life  a  person  of  the  name  of  Clarke, 
who  afterwards  went  abroad,  and  was  reported  to  have 
died.  Many  lovers  then  made  suit  to  Joan,  who, 
besides  being  very  beautiful,  was  a  wealthy  heiress. 
Her  mother,  a  widow,  had  suitors  of  her  own,  but  on 
assuring  them  she  would  on  a  second  marriage  make 
over  her  property  to  her  daughter,  she  was  freed  from 
further  importunity.  The  lovely  Joan  would  hearken 
to  no  addresses  till  she  was  better  assured  of  her  hus- 
band's death,  of  which  doubts  hung  about  her  mind, 
though  letters  were  brought  to  her  naming  the  exact 
time  when  the  event  took  place.  At  length,  however, 
return  he  did,  but  in  ill-health,  and  lived  but  a  few 
days,  leaving  his  widow  at  liberty  to  form  a  connection 
with  one  more  deserving  of  her  than  he  had  been. 

Her  beauty  and  her  wealth  were  not  the  charms 
which  secured  the  affections  of  George  Eooke  ;  he  met 
in  her  a  kindred  mind,  and  her  virtue  and  piety  deter- 
mined his  choice.  As  he  rode  to  Limerick  with  intent 
to  make  the  tender  of  Ms  hand,  he  was  joined  by 
another  young  man,  who  opened  his  heart  to  him,  and 
told  him  he  was  on  his  way  to  address  the  fair  widow, 
requesting  his  interest  on  the  occasion.  George's  alarm 
at  finding  he  had  a  rival  was  great,  and  his  emotions 
occasioned  such  agitation,  that  one  after  another  the 
buttons  of  his  waistcoat  burst  open.  However,  he 
proved  the  successful  candidate,   and  was  married  to 


1766.]  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  ^^ 

Joan  in  16S6.  They  were  accounted  tlie  handsomest 
pair  that  had  been  married  in  the  meeting-house  for  a 
long  time,  and  they  lived  in  comfort  and  plenty  in 
Limerick,  till  the  horrors  of  Avar  broke  in  upon  their 
domestic  quiet. 

Wlien  Limerick  was  besieged  by  William  the  Third, 
officers  and  soldiers  of  the  Irish  army  were  lodged  in 
their  house,  and  cannon-balls  passed  through  every 
room  but  one.  On  one  occasion  Joan  Eooke  sate  on 
her  chimney-hob,  watching  the  pot  in  which  her  dinner 
was  boiling,  lest  the  Irish  soldiers  should  make  a  prey 
of  it.  The  pot  was  removed,  and  she  had  left  her  seat 
when  a  cannon-ball  dashed  through  the  hob  where  she 
had  sat,  We  had  also  a  family  tradition  that  she  had 
stooped  her  head  to  let  a  ball  pass  over  it.  That  she 
w^as  a  woman  of  courage  was  evident  from  her  having 
threatened  the  soldiers  who  were  quartered  in  her  house, 
to  complain  to  their  officers  of  the  ruffianly  conduct 
which  they  declared  their  intention  to  pursue.  They 
had  spoken  in  Irish  before  her,  believing  her  ignorant 
of  the  language ;  she  understood  it,  but  heard  them  out 
before  she  let  them  know  that  she  did  so,  and  then 
awed  them  into  good  behaviour. 

After  the  first  siege  of  Limerick,  George  and  Joan 
Eooke  thought  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  await  the 
issue  of  the  second.  My  great-grandmother  quilted 
some  of  her  broad  pieces  of  gold  into  the  tucks  of  her 
under  petticoats,  and  filled  false  heels  in  her  shoes  with 
the  remainder.  They  melted  their  plate  into  wedges, 
and  abandoned  theu-  comfortable  house  and  costlv  fur- 


56  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 


nitiire,  wliicli  had  once  been  the  objects  of  Joan's  nice 
housewifely  care ;  and  ever  after  she  was  perfectly  indif- 
ferent how  simple  her  furniture  was,  if  it  w^ere  only  kept 
whole  and  clean.  They  hired  a  guard  to  convey  them 
to  Dublin,  and  it  was  uncertain  what  might  have  been 
their  fate  had  he  not  been  faithful  to  them.  This  man, 
when  old  and  poor,  was  tenderly  cared  for  by  George 
Eodke,  so  true  is  it  that  "  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 
They  lay  the  lirst  night  in  a  place  surrounded  by 
Eapparees.  My  careful  great-grandmother  lay  awake 
watching  their  property.  Her  husband  forgot  all  care 
in  a  sleep  so  refreshing  that  in  the  morning  he  congra- 
tulated his  wife  with,  "  My  dear,  we  have  had  a  fine 
night;"  she  had  not  found- it  so,  and  notwithstanding 
all  her  care  had  lost  her  riding-hood.  After  a  short 
stay  in  Dublin  they  embarked  for  England  with  their 
three  little  children.  My  grandmother,  who  was  then 
about  three  years  old,  never  forgot  her  great  affliction 
at  letting  her  doll  fall  out  of  the  cabin-window,  and 
seeing  her  treasure  swallowed  by  the  weaves.  They 
staid  till  tliis  land  was  freed  from  disturbance,  sold 
their  estate  in  Limerick,  and  then  settled  in  Dublin. 

George  Eooke  dealt  in  timber,  and  kept  a  timber-yard 
in  Earl-street.  He  outlived  his  wife,  who  was  eighty- 
four  at  the  time  of  her  death.  The  old  man  possessed 
remarkable  sw^eetness  of  temper.  He  often  smiled,  but 
never  laughed,  and  though  a  friend  to  innocent  cheer- 
fulness was  wounded  by  noisy  mirth.  He  rose  early, 
as  all  long-livers,  I  believe,  do,  and  was  often  in  his 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  57 

timber-yard  at  four  o'clock.  Little  cliildren  flocked 
around  him,  and  called  him  "daddy,"  and  he  was  seldom 
unprovided  with  good  things  for  them.  His  neighbours 
called  him  "the  bishop."  A  collegian  seeing  liim 
among  his  timber  called  out,  "See  the  priest  in  the 
wood  !"  "  It  is  better,"  answered  the  pleasant  old  man, 
"than  to  be  a  wooden  priest!"  Although  universally 
beloved,  he  unintentionally  gave  offence  to  one  family 
by  some  familiar  chat.  His  daughter  Carleton,  wdio  lived 
with  him  after  she  became  a  widow,  resented  their 
touchiness,  and  wished  him  not  to  call  at  the  house ;  but 
her  sweet-spirited  father  could  not  harbour  resentment, 
he  visited  there  as  usual,  and  when  his  daughter  enquired 
where  he  had  been,  he  used  to  reply  with  a  smile,  "  In 
a  house."  William  Penn,  grandson  to  the  great  legis- 
lator, had  George  Eooke's  likeness  taken  by  stealth, 
my  aunt  assisting.  This  picture  is  now  in  my  posses- 
sion, with  a  lock  of  the  beautiful  silver  hair  that  curled 
naturally  around  a  face  which  extreme  old  age  could 
not  deform.  He  loved  to  have  the  Scriptures  read  to 
him,  especially  "  the  Little  Prophets,"  as  he  was  wont 
to  call  the  books  at  the  end  of  the  Old  Testament.  He 
died  of  a  pleurisy  at  the  age  of  ninety. 

Bachel  Carleton  was  the  remains  of  a  fine  old  gentle- 
woman, who  had  lived  long  in  the  city,  and  "knew 
what  was  what."  Her  stately  reserve  was  censured  as 
"height"  (the  softened  term  for  pride),  but  she  was  a 
worthy  character,  and  had  in  her  past  life  encountered 
keen  misfortunes,  I  believe  with  patience  and  resigna- 
tion.    Desirous  of  being  near  her  married  daughter — 


58  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLTTORE.  [i;66. 

for  of  a  large  family  but  two  remained — she  and  lier 
daughter  Deborah  came  to  reside  in  Eallitore  about  the 
year  1759. 

My  aunt  Carleton  was  fourteen  years  older  than  my 
mother,  of  a  very  lively,  cheerful  temper.  In  her 
youth  she  had  been  much  admired,  though  her  nose 
had  a  flatness  at  the  upper  part.  Some  of  her  neigh- 
bours being  inclined  to  criticise,  remarked  that  "  Debby 
Carleton  would  be  a  very  pretty  girl,  but  for  her 
nose."  She  happened  to  overhear  them,  and  bolted 
upon  them  with  the  retort,  "  She  would  be  much  worse 
Mdthout  it."  The  voice  of  envy  unjustly  accused  her 
of  sleeping  in  iron  stays  ;  for  her  figure  was  taper  and 
shapely — "  fine  by  degrees  and  beautifully  less."  The 
remains  of  her  fine  figure  and  her  blooming  com- 
plexion were  still  visible  as  I  first  remember  her, 
and  time  could  not  destroy  the  animation,  benevo- 
lence, and  sensibility  of  her  countenance.  From  early 
youth  she  was  subject  to  ill-health,  and  to  a  nervous 
headache  which  often  attacked  her,  confining  her  one 
day  to  her  bed,  or  two  if  she  struggled  against  it. 
When  more  dangerous  illnesses  visited  her,  we  wel- 
comed this  headache  as  a  sign  of  her  recovery  to  usual 
health.  But  no  interruption  of  this  kind  could  lessen 
her  filial  attention  to  her  aged  mother.  Her  life  had 
been  much  devoted  to  the  care  of  the  aged  and  infirm, 
and  she  frequently  remarked  that  it  seemed  to  be  pro- 
longed for  that  purpose. 

She  also  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  saving  several 
persons  from  impending  death.     One  of  these  was  a 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  59 

woman  whose  brutal  husband  in  a  fit  of  drunkenness 
and  rage  held  a  razor  to  her  throat.  My  aunt  heard  her 
cries  as  she  lay  in  bed  ;  she  ran  to  the  window,  and  so 
effectually  employed  that  power  of  persuasion  which 
she  eminently  possessed,  as  to  save  the  life  of  the  unfor- 
tunate woman.  Subsequently,  as  she  was  walking  in 
Dublin,  she  was  advised  to  turn  back,  as  there  was  in 
her  way  a  drunken  woman,  maddened  by  the  insults  of 
the  rabble,  and  throwing  dirt  and  stones  at  all  who  came 
near  her.  My  aimt,  however,  went  on,  and  quickly  per- 
ceived that  this  wretched  woman  was  the  same  whom 
she  had  rescued  from  the  fury  of  her  husband.  Calling 
to  her  by  her  name,  she  reproved  her  conduct,  and 
commanded  her  instantly  to  return  home.  Gratitude 
overpowered  every  other  emotion  in  the  distracted 
creature  ;  she  dropped  on  her  knees  in  the  channel,  im- 
ploring a  blessing  on  her  benefactress;  then,  rising, 
directly  obeyed  her.  She  saved  another  life  by  thrust- 
ing her  hand  into  the  mouth  of  an  enraged  mastiff  who 
had  seized  a  boy  by  the  throat.  The  animal,  knowing 
and  loving  her,  quitted  his  grasp  of  his  victim  in  order 
to  avoid  hurting  her. 

If  her  cares  were  precious  to  the  aged,  they  were  more 
so  to  the  youth.  In  the  science  of  education  I  never 
saw  her  surpassed.  She  had  the  happy  art  of  inspir- 
ing confidence  without  forfeiting  respect.  She  won  our 
hearts  and  they  were  laid  open  to  her.  She  made  every 
proper  allowance,  granted  every  proper  indulgence,  yet 
she  possessed  much  penetration,  would  quickly  discern 
danger,   and   vigilantly  guard  against  it.      Her  com- 


6o  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1766. 

pany  and  converse  were  as  pleasing  as  profitable,  and 
it  is  a  proof  of  this  that  the  young  men  who  boarded 
at  my  father's,  and  who  generally  called  her  "  aunt," 
used  to  prefer  sitting  with  her  on  First-day  evenings 
while  we  were  at  meeting,  which  her  poor  health  seldom 
permitted  her  to  attend,  to  amusing  themselves  in  other 
ways  at  a  time  when  they  were  free  from  observation. 
After  one  of  these  visits  I  remember  my  aunt  remarking 
the  emotion  with  which  Henry  Leslie  read  to  her  the 
lamentation  of  Esau  on  being  supplanted  by  Jacob. 
Henry  wept  and  sobbed,  and  I'll  warrant  my  aunt  did 
so  too,  for  seldom  has  there  throbbed  a  more  sympa- 
thizing heart. 

Her  limited  circumstances,  it  would  appear,  forbade 
her  indulging  her  natural  benevolence,  but  she  con- 
trived to  miite  the  pious  offices  of  humanity  with  that 
strict  economy  which  it  behoved  her  to  practise.  She 
seemed  to  possess  the  gift  of  healing.  The  country 
resorted  to  her  for  advice.  She  kept  a  large  assortment 
of  drugs,  she  distilled  simples,  she  sold  to  those  who 
could  afford  to  pay,  and  dispensed  gratis  to  those  who 
could  not.  In  her  rides  she  called  to  see  or  enquire 
for  her  patients.  She  was  firm  as  well  as  tender, 
resisted  imposition,  and  her  foresight  and  presence  of 
mind  seldom  deserted  her.  When  a  young  woman, 
while  out  walking  in  Dublin  with  a  friend  of  her  own 
age,  they  were  surprised  by  the  appearance  of  a  wild 
tumultuous  mob,  which  they  found  it  impossible  to 
avoid.  Her  companion  was  ready  to  faint,  and  my 
aunt's   terrors  were  perhaps   little  less,   but   she   ex- 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  6l 

erted  herself  to  suppress  them,  and  in  a  loud  and 
animated  tone  encouraged  her  friend  to  come  on;  "for," 
added  she,  "  they  are  our  own  Liberty  boys,  and  will 
not  hurt  us  !"  A  huzza  instantly  followed  this  expres- 
sion of  confidence  from  the  pleased  multitude,  who  made 
a  lane  for  the  fortunate  damsels  to  pass  through. 

My  aunt  got  little  out  to  religious  meetings,  or  to 
meetings  for  discipline  ;  her  ill  health  and  her  care  of 
the  aged  and  youth  might  plead  an  excuse,  but  I  never 
heard  her  plead  any.  Eeligion  assumes  not  the  same 
form  in  every  character ;  some  are  called  upon  to  fulfil 
its  more  active  duties  ;  others  in  retirement  fulfil  what 
is  required  of  them.  "  Let  her  alone,"  said  Elizabeth 
Eobinson,  in  a  meeting  held  in  my  aunt's  house,  "  she 
hath  done  what  she  could."  She  commended  and 
recommended  decent  pride,  by  which  she  meant  ab- 
staining from  low  or  mean  actions  or  company.  She 
was  not  so  strict  in  matters  of  dress  as  my  mother, 
though  she  carefully  avoided  counteracting  her  plans. 

My  worthy  mother,  cautious  not  to  grant  more  liberty 
to  her  own  children  than  to  those  of  her  husband's  first 
wife,  really  granted  us  less  ;  for  at  the  time  when  par- 
ticular distinguishing  marks  of  plainness  were  put  upon 
them,  they  were  also  put  upon  us,  though  we  were 
several  years  younger  than  they  were ;  and  our  youth 
rendered  these  distinctions  much  more  remarkable. 
Our  sisters  as  well  as  our  aunt  wished  our  mother  to 
relax  a  little  towards  us  in  this  respect,  but  this  was  a 
point  not  to  be  disputed,  and  whether  it  was  that  our 
situation  was  secluded  so  much  from  the  world,  or  that 


62  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1766. 

our  tastes  did  not  yet  lie  in  that  direction,  her  intent 
was  accomplished,  and  the  fondness  for  dress  so  natural 
to  youth  was  pretty  much  starved  ;  nay,  it  became, 
perhaps,  a  matter  of  too  much  indifference  to  my  sister 
and  me.  Yet  to  Friends,  who  profess  simphcity,  cer- 
tainly simplicity  in  dress  ought  to  belong  ;  it  is  a  kind 
of  fence,  and  where  a  manifest  disregard  of  our  customs 
in  this  respect  is  evinced,  it  invites  to  associations 
inconsistent  mth  our  education,  and  betrays  an  attach- 
ment to  an  object  unworthy  to  engross  a  rational  mind. 

In  reading,  also,  my  aunt  was  less  severe  than  my 
mother.  There  were  few  if  any  books  at  that  time 
calculated  for  children  wliich  combined  entertainment 
with  instruction,  and  there  was  great  danger  of  our  flying 
to  stolen  gratifications  in  this  way  without  judgment  or 
discrimination,  had  not  my  mother  possessed  a  fondness 
for  history,  which  she  encouraged  in  us,  and  had  not 
my  aunt  indulged  us  now  and  then  with  books  of 
entertainment.  The  worst  of  this  was,  that  the  book 
was  clapped  under  the  cushion  of  her  chair  when  my 
mother  appeared.  I  had,  by  my  aunt's  permission, 
a  collection  of  ballads  containing  "The  Babes  in  the 
Wood,"  "Chevy  Chase,^'  "Pennyworth  of  Wit,"  and 
others  of  equal  respectability — but  the  very  word  ballad 
was  a  word  of  disgrace.  At  one  time  I  stood  at  my 
aunt  Fuller's  gate  with  this  favorite  volume  in  my  hand, 
when  I  saw  my  mother  approaching ;  I  ran  in,  terrified, 
to  hide  my  book,  and  my  mother  rebuked  me  after- 
wards for  not  running  to  meet  her. 

My  aunt  kept  her  house  neat,  and  was  active  in  her 


1/66.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  6^ 

domestic  concerns.  Eeing  well  skilled  in  tlie  science 
of  cookery,  her  little  dinners  were  very  comfortable. 
She  perfectly  understood  the  roasting  of  a  pig  or  a 
hare.  My  father  was  always  invited  on  these  occasions 
(my  mother  made  it  a  point  not  to  dine  abroad),  and 
his  conviviaHty  and  enjoyment  of  the  little  repast 
heightened  the  general  satisfaction.  My  annt's  patients 
frequently  brought  her  a  present  of  a  hare ;  this  she 
concealed  lest  they  should  incur  the  aspersion  of  poach- 
ing, and  it  became  a  standing  joke  that  my  father 
asked  who  was  the  donor,  and  my  aunt  refused  to  tell. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  my  sister  Margaret,  his 
eldest  daughter,  deHghted  him  by  a  remark  which  w^as 
frequently  quoted  afterwards,  "  Here  are  the  hare  and 
many  friends." 

Two  httle  boarders,  illegitimate  sons  of  Stratford 
Eyre,  the  warden  of  Galway,  made  part  of  my  aunt's 
family  about  this  time.  When  their  foster-father 
brought  them  to  school,  Tom  Eyre  was  not  long  out  of 
petticoats,  and  Sam-  still  wore  them.  My  mother  was 
fearful  lest  they  should  be  hurt  in  so  large  a  school 
of  bigger  boys,  and  she  prevailed  upon  my  aunt  to 
take  charge  of  them.  It  was  easy  for  children  to  win 
my  aunt's  love  ;  and  these  were  peculiarly  engaging 
and  interesting.  If  any  one  was  born  to  be  a  soldier,  I 
often  thought  it  was  Tom  Eyre.  His  undaunted,  open 
countenance,  and  the  spirit  of  his  fine  black  eyes 
announced  a  disposition  full  of  courage.  Poor  Sam 
and  I  found  that  this  disposition  was  apt  to  degenerate 
into  tyranny,  for  Tom,  on  his  return  from  school,  some- 


64  THE   ANNALS   OF  BALLITORE,  [1766. 

times  dashed  our  playthings  about  the  room,  despising 
our  tears  as  well  as  our  amusements.  Yet  Tom  was 
truly  goodnatured  when  not  under  the  influence  of  an 
impetuosity  of  temper  which  required  the  able  hand  of 
my  aunt  to  restrain.  Her  calm  reasoning  allayed  the 
tempest  of  his  passion,  and  melted  him  into  tears  of 
contrition.  With  all  his  failings,  Tom  was  a  universal 
favourite,  whilst  Sam  possessed  sweetness  of  temper, 
an  early  sense  of  rectitude,  and  a  superior  degree  of 
understanding.  He  was  more  grave  than  his  brother, 
and  less  apt  to  speak  at  random.  His  countenance  was 
like  our  idea  of  that  of  an  angel,  and  his  mind  did  not 
behe  his  countenance.  Sometimes  he  gently  rebuked 
his  brother  :  Tom  bore  this  with  impatience,  and  when 
he  knew  he  had  deserved  a  lecture,  and  thought  Sam 
was  preparing  one  for  him,  he  tried  to  ward  it  off  by 
exclaiming,  "Now,  Sam,  none  of  your  philosojDhy,  or 
ril  lick  you  !"  Tom,  however,  had  his  own  philoso- 
phy, and  thus  he  reasoned :  "  I  think  I  love  another 
"  boy  better  than  Sam,  but  if  that  boy  and  Sam  were 
"  falHng  from  a  house,  I  would  run  to  catch  Sam." 

We  all  took  small-pox  at  the  same  time.  My  attack 
was  the  lightest,  and  I  was  first  able  to  leave  my  room 
to  visit  the  Eyres.  Great  as  was  our  joy  at  meeting,  we 
did  not  part  without  a  quarrel.  But  they  suffered  no 
one  else  to  affront  me  or  displease  me,  reserving  to 
themselves  the  exclusive  right.  When  wewere  some 
years  older,  the  schoolboys,  taking  advantage  of  my 
simplicity,  enclosed  me  in  a  tub  without  a  bottom,  and 
declared  that  they  would  not  set  me  free  unless  on  con- 


1766.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  65 

dition  that  I  should  ask  the  evening's  play  for  them. 
I  was  too  much  chagrined  to  consent,  and  my  situation 
was  mortifying  indeed,  when  Sam  came  up,  and,  insist- 
ing upon  my  unconditional  enlargement,  his  command 
was  instantly  obeyed,  though  he  was  but  a  little  boy. 
We  were  much  of  one  age,  and  we  dearly  loved  one 
another.  Ah  !  why,  then,  was  that  sweet  age  clouded 
with  quarrels  ]  And  why  must  I  remember  with  regret 
that  Sam  and  I  pulled  each  other's  hair  behind  my 
grandmother's  screen,  in  a  contest  for  the  possession  of 
a  hole  in  it,  which  we  called  a  window  1  And  why 
did  we  all  three  regularly  fight  when  the  showman 
came  with  his  box,  because  one  of  the  glasses  was 
cracked,  and  none  of  us  would  wilHngly  consent  to  look 
through  that  one  ? 

When  these  boys  had  been  two  years  at  school,  their 
father  came  to  see  them,  and  he  liked  their  situation  so 
well  that  he  sent  for  two  older  boys  whom  he  had  at 
school  in  England,  where  they  were  taught,  boarded, 
and  clothed  for  £  i  o  a  year  each.  Accordingly  Edward 
and  Eobert  were  added  to  my  aunt's  household.  They 
were  fine  boys,  but,  unlike  their  younger  brothers, 
were  not  at  all  remarkable.  Time  rolled  on.  Their 
father,  while  on  a  visit  to  Dubhn,  was  seized  with  an 
apoplectic  fit,  and  dropped  dead.  His  widow,  while 
slie  lived,  continued  the  attention  to  his  children  (the}^ 
were  not  hers)  which  he  had  bestowed  on  them ;  but 
she  did  not  long  survive  her  husband,  and  then  their 
orphan  state  was  manifest.  Their  uncle,  who  strove  to 
withhold   from   them    the  provision   their  father  had 


66  THE    AKN'ALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1766. 

bequeathed  them,  died  in  a  similar  manner  to  his  bro- 
ther, in  the  Parhament  house.  Whether  the  unfor- 
tunate circumstances  of  their  birth  made  it  difficult  to 
secure  their  property,  or  from  whatever  cause,  certain 
it  was  their  guardians  could  do  nothing  for  them  ;  and 
my  father,  seeing  that  if  he  deserted  them  they  had 
no  earthly  friend,  would  not  abandon  the  orphans  to 
an  unpitying  world,  but  kept  them  till  they  were  fit  to 
go  to  business ;  and  thus,  for  education,  board,  and 
clothing,  a  debt  of  £800  was  incurred.  Cliildren 
though  they  were,  they  understood  and  felt  this  kind- 
ness ;  and  I  remember  one  evening  when  we  swam  our 
flagger  boats  down  the  river,  and  talked  of  hidden  trea- 
sures found  under  stones  in  fairy  streams,  that  Edward 
Eyre  breathed  his  wish  to  find  a  pot  of  gold  :  "  And 
then,"  said  he,  "  I  would  pay  the  master." 

Poor  Edward  !  Very  soon  after,  he  took  measles, 
which  fell  upon  his  lungs,  and  carried  him  off.  Tom 
wept  bitterly  over  the  breathless  corpse,  till  he  declared 
his  fountain  of  tears  was  quite  dry.  Edward  was  par- 
ticularly attached  to  him,  although  they  were  only  half- 
brothers,  being  children  of  different  mothers.  On  his 
death-bed  he  recommended  Tom  seriously  to  my 
mother's  care,  as  he  said  that  he  feared  most  for  him, 
he  was  so  "  arch."  And  thus  was  this  youth  merci- 
fully taken,  in  his  fourteenth  year,  from  a  world 
through  which  his  brothers  had  to  struggle  with  vari- 
ous fortunes.  Tom,  after  all  this  trouble,  said  he  could 
not  bear  to  hear  of  death,  for  he  dreaded  dying  before 
he  saw  Dublin     Little  did  he  then  dream  of  his  future 


1766.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  67 

wanderings.  In  course  of  time  Eobert  was  placed  with 
an  attorney,  and  Tom  and  Sam  were  apprenticed  to 
apothecaries,  who  took  advantage  of  their  unprotected 
state  to  treat  them  harshly.  When  their  old  master 
visited  Dublin,  they  poured  out  their  complaints  as 
into  a  paternal  bosom.  Once,  as  Sam  told  his  artless 
tale,  he  saw  that  his  sufferings  touched  the  good  man's 
heart.  He  thought  they  touched  it  too  deeply,  and, 
looking  up  in  his  face  with  one  of  his  inexpressibly 
sweet  smiles,  he  added,  "  Oh !  master,  I  shall  do  very 
well."  But  my  father  had  them  removed  to  other  situa- 
tions in  the  same  business. 

On  the  breaking  out  of  the  American  war,  the  sol- 
dier broke  out  in  Tom  Eyre,  and  he  went  as  a  volunteer 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  to  seek  his  fortune  beyond  the 
Atlantic.  Sam  accompanied  his  brother  three  miles  on 
his  march,  weeping  bitterly,  for  it  was  their  first,  and, 
alas  !  it  proved  their  final  separation.  Not  all  the 
charms  of  novelty  nor  all  the  allurements  of  military 
glory  could  suppress  the  pangs  felt  at  this  solemn  part- 
ing ;  and  Tom's  heart  felt  heavy  indeed  when  he 
passed  by  Ballitore,  and  saw  no  old  acquaintance  at 
the  top  of  the  avenue  leading  down  to  the  village. 
This  cruel  disappointment  added  weight  to  his  knap- 
sack and  weariness  to  the  fatigue  of  his  long  march  on 
foot  from  Dublin  to  Cork.  He  embarked  at  Cove,  and 
landed  on  the  American  shore,  young,  unprotected, 
inexperienced,  but  full  of  health,  spirits  and  courage. 

About  two  years  after  Tom's  embarkation,  Sam 
entered  the  navy.     He  became  a  midshipman  in  the 


68  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [l'j66. 

Foudroyant,  Tinder  Captain  Jervis,  now  Earl  St.  Vin- 
cent, of  whom  he  spoke  most  warmly  in  his  letters  to 
his  old  master — letters  worthy  of  the  master  and  the 
pupil.  The  last  of  these  was  dated  from  on  board  the 
Superbe,  which  was  destined  for  the  East  Indies.  He 
sailed  full  of  the  sanguine  hopes  and  ambition  which 
animate  a  young,  ardent,  and  generous  mind. 

Thus  were  the  early  companions  of  my  childhood 
borne  away  on  the  waves  of  ambition  or  enterprise, 
while  my  own  youth  glided  gently  down  the  quiet 
current  of  my  uneventful  life. 


69 


CHAPTEE  III. 

1769. 

Infant  speculations. — Aunt  Carleton's  pets. — Madam  Keatinge. 
— Introduction  of  boarded  floors. — A  court  of  justice  dissolved 
in  laughter. — An  army  officer  flogged  at  school. — Further  no- 
tices of  the  first  Abraham  Shackleton. — He  visits  Burke  at 
Beaconsfield. — His  last  illness. — Is  visited  by  the  lovely  bride, 
Mary  Watson.— His  death  and  funeral. — Burke's  letter  to 
Richard  Shackleton  on  the  occasion. — James  and  Nanny  Mc 
Connaughty — Vain  sports  and  places  of  diversion. — Sabbath 
breaking.— Mummers  in  Ballitoi-e. — A  fairy  doctor  turns  school- 
master.— Death  of  young  Black  in  the  American  war. — A 
"  second  Tom  Eyre." — Little  David  Skinner.       __       69  to  91 

O^  niy  father's  succeeding  to  a  small  estate  on  which 
the  Mill  now  stands,  my  Aunt  Carleton  removed  to 
Griesebank,  and  we  bade  adieu  to  the  old  habitation  of 
Fuller's  Court,  and  to  the  field  where  the  little  cow 
Tidy  grazed,  and  where  Tom  Eyre,  Sam,  and  I  planted 
our  teeth  when  they  dropped  out,  in  the  fond  hope  of 
some  marvellous  growth,  such  as  had  resulted  from  the 
successful  experiment  of  Cadmus.  Indeed  so  little  idea 
had  I  of  the  nature  of  vegetation,  that  I  applauded  my 
sagacity  in  secretly  laying  seeds  of  sweet-pea  in  a  hole 
in  the  floor  by  the  parlour  hearthstone,  anticipating  my 


70  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^7'59- 

mother's  agreeable  surprise  when  she  should  see  the 
flowers  in  bloom  by  her  fireside.  To  Griesebank  we 
went,  followed  by  Tidy  and  the  pig.  I  cannot  say  whe- 
ther it  was  that  very  pig  which  I  once  saw  stand  on  his 
hind  legs,  and  with  his  nose  lift  the  knocker  of  the 
hall-door  to  gain  admittance  into  the  house.  All  my 
aunt's  domestics  and  domestic  animals  were  somewhat 
extraordinary  in  2uy  eyes,  and  the  care  of  them  consti- 
tuted no  inconsiderable  part  of  her  happiness  ;  indeed 
the  kind  attention  which  her  leisure  and  her  humanity 
led  her  to  pay  might  very  well  produce  peculiar  effects. 
At  one  time,  when  her  health  was  ailing,  and  her  lively 
spirits  were  depressed  by  confinement  to  a  sick  cham- 
ber, a  cousin  to  amuse  her  brought  her  three  eggs 
which  the  parent  hen  had  deserted  after  bringing 
forth  a  clutch.  The  invalid  placed  these  eggs  in  a 
basket  of  wool  close  to  her  hearthstone,  and  her  care 
was  soon  rewarded  by  the  appearance  of  three  little 
cliickens,  which  she  cherished  and  fed  with  such  watch- 
ful attention  that  they  attached  themselves  to  her  as  to 
a  parent  hen.  They  grew  into  two  beautiful  pullets 
and  a  cock.  Their  mutual  attachment  continued,  and 
the  hens  were  wont  to  lay  their  eggs  on  a  cushion  mider 
their  mistress's  chair.  It  was  told  of  her  well-trained 
dog,  that,  though  accustomed  to  attend  his  mistress 
wherever  she  went,  he  never  attempted  to  accompany 
her  when  she  had  on  her  green  apron  and  long  black 
hood.  At  that  tune  a  bright  light  green  silk  apron  was 
worn  by  the  female  Friend  when  going  to  meeting ;  also 
a  black  silk  hood  with  long  ends  or  lappets,  and  no 


1769.]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE,  7  I 

bonnet.  She  had  also  a  tame  stare  which  spoke  pretty 
distinctly,  and  whistled  "  High  Barnaby"  to  admiration, 
turning  the  tune  accurately.  "  Jacob,"  for  that  was  his 
name,  was  very  particularly  attended  to,  and  the  servant 
often  said  he  would  be  in  his  warm  grave  but  for  the 
mistress.  Poor  Jacob  died  very  soon  after  her,  at  the 
age  of  fourteen. 

The  Great  House  of  the  village  was  inhabited  by 
the  widow  and  family  of  the  elder  Maurice  Keatinge. 
She  was  a  woman  of  great  respect  and  worth,  and  w^as 
allied  to  the  poet  Waller.  Her  second  son  Cadogan 
and  her  four  unmarried  daughters  cheered  her  declining 
age  with  exemplary  affection.  They  were  somewhat 
advanced  in  years,  which  they  took  no  pains  to  disguise. 
Though  of  the  first  family  in  the  country,  their  attention 
to  their  neighbours  of  every  description  bespoke  their 
humility  as  well  as  their  benevolence ;  their  manners 
were  soft  and  polite  as  well  as  kind  and  good-natured. 
Their  simpKcity  and  affability  of  demeanor  in  no  wise 
abated  the  deep  respect  which  was  ever  paid  them. 
The  poor  beheld  them  with  reverence,  and  no  class 
esteemed  it  an  honour  conferred  upon  "  Madam  Keat- 
inge" when  the  Duke  of  Leinster's  equipage  with  out- 
riders rolled  into  the  village,  bringing  the  duke  and 
duchess  to  dine  with  her,  though  the  inhabitants 
pressed  forward  with  eager  eyes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
a  "  real  live  duke."  The  old  lady  never  visited  ;  she 
spent  her  day  in  devotion  and  reading,  and  closed  the 
evening  with  cards,  at  which  she  played  for  amusement 
only. 


72  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^7^9' 

Except  at  the  Great  House,  my  aunt's,  and  Joseph 
Wills' s,  all  the  parlours  had  earthen  floors  ;  the  hall- 
doors  opened  with  iron  latches,  and  were  without 
knockers ;  and  most  of  the  windows  were  casements. 
In  process  of  time,  as  a  taste  for  elegance  arose,  the 
earthen  floors  were  found  to  be  damp  and  liable  to 
])reak,  and  then  it  was  impossible  to  repair  them ;  so 
they  were  replaced  by  boards  and  listing  carpets ;  the 
casement  windows  gave  place  to  sashes  ;  and  grinning 
lions'  heads  guarded  and  ornamented  the  hall-doors. 
Elizabeth  Shackleton,  though  she  endured  the  demoli- 
tion of  her  floor,  thought  the  washing  of  the  boards  of 
such  a  large  room  would  be  a  job  of  too  great  magni- 
tude ;  so  she  procured  flags  from  Eosenallis  for  her 
parlour.  However,  as  taste  gained  ground,  even  that 
room  was  submitted  to  timber  flooring,  and  the  pickaxe 
at  length  invaded  the  Meeting-house,  where  the  old- 
fashioned  flooring,  with  loose  boards  laid  under  the  feet 
of  the  women  Friends,  had  remained  time  out  of  mind. 
There  was  no  place  of  worship  in  Ballitore  except  the 
Friends'  meeting-house.  To  Crookstown,  about  half- 
a-mile  distant,  resorted  the  inhabitants  who  were  of 
the  Eomish  persuasion,  and  those  of  the  Established 
(Church  attended  service  at  Timolin.  An  usher  of  that 
profession  was  always  employed  at  the  school,  who 
accompanied  the  boys  to  tliis  place  of  worship,  and 
heard  them  their  catecliism. 

My  father  used  to  entertain  us  by  anecdotes  of  the 
school  as  it  was  in  his  boyhood,  some  of  which  I 
shall  introduce  here.     The  lively  spiiits  of  the  school- 


1769.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  73 

boys  often  led  to  mischievous  tricks,  to  the  annoyance 
of  the  neighbours,  especially  of  those  who  complained 
of  them.  My  grandfather,  wishing  to  examine  into 
some  offences  of  this  nature,  and  to  exercise  justice  on 
the  delinquents,  requested  the  attendance  of  some  of 
the  neighbours  ;  Charles  Braddock  was  one  of  the 
number.  They  took  their  seats,  the  venerable  Abra- 
ham took  his,  and  the  boys,  overwhelmed  with  the 
consciousness  of  their  misdeeds,  awaited  in  fearful 
expectation.  A  pause  preceded  the  enquiry,  when,  on 
a  sudden,  the  awful  silence  was  broken  by  Charles 
Braddock  roaring  forth. 

The  charge  is  prepared,  and  the  judges  are  met : 
The  lawyers  all  ranged— a  terrible  show. 

The  solemnity  of  the  scene  in  a  moment  vanished,  and 
even  the  gi^ave  countenance  of  the  master  relaxed. 
Charley  was  a  rattle ;  he  continued  to  rattle  aw^ay  in 
prose,  to  show  the  impossibility  of  detecting  the  chief 
offender,  as  all  had  such  a  projDensity  to  transgress  ; 
"  For,"  said  he,  "  as  my  turkeys  stood  on  the  wall  by 
"  the  pond,  one  of  the  mischievous  little  fellows,  as  he 
"  ran  past,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  knocking 
"a  turkey  into  the  water  !'^  My  fathers  heart  died 
within  him,  for  it  was  he  had  done  the  deed.  But  his 
fears  were  needless  ;  Charley  would  not  tell  who  was 
the  culprit,  and  the  court  of  justice  Avas  broken  up 
with  a  general  admonition.  , 

In  those  early  times  there  was  a  lad  at  school,  Henry 
Graham  by  name.     He  was  in  the  army,  and  received 


74  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  l^'/^9- 

pay  ;  liis  manners  and  air  were  military.  A  "barring- 
out"  took  place,  and  Abraham  Sliacldeton,  after  having 
tried  other  methods  in  vain,  forced  the  door  with  a 
sledge-hammer.  While  this  was  being  done,  the  garrison 
strove  to  capitulate.  They  asked  for  "  a  week's  play.'' 
— "[N"©."  "A  day's  play." — ":N'o."  "An  evening's 
play."_«No."  "Pardon  for  their  fault."— "No."  Gra- 
ham snapped  a  pistol,  which  missed  fire.  The  offenders 
were  led  to  punishment :  those  who  expressed  sorrow 
for  what  they  had  done  escaped  the  dreaded  whipping. 
Graham  would  not,  and  was  whipped.  He  was  then 
asked  was  he  sorry  now  ? — "  'No."  He  was  whipped 
again.  Was  he  sorry  *? — "  No."  He  was  whipped 
again.  Was  he  sorry  1 — "  Yes ;  he  was  sorry  that  the 
pistol  had  missed  fire  !"  Though  his  master  could  not 
overcome  his  inflexibility,  he  won  his  afi'ections,  and 
an  attachment  was  formed  between  them  which  conti- 
nued while  Graham  hved.  He  corresponded  with  his 
master  when  he  went  abroad,  and  sent  him  the  plan  of 
the  English  camp.  At  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  Avhen 
leading  on  his  men,  he  called  out  to  them  with  gay 
humour,  "  A  ducat  to  any  man  who  will  make  a  pun." 
In  the  retreat  of  the  English  at  this  battle,  the  officers 
kept  at  the  rear  of  their  men  to  be  ready  to  head  them 
if  they  returned  to  the  charge.  This  was  Graham's 
situation  when  a  spent  cannon-ball  struck  him  between 
the  shoulders,  and  his  men  ran  to  support  him.  "  Lay 
me  down,  my  lads,"  said  he,  "  and  let  me  die  easy." 
They  did  so,  and  he  expired. 

When  the  venerable  Abraham  Shackleton  had  re- 


1769.]  THE   ANNALS    OF   BzVLLITORE.  y  f^ 

signed  into  the  hands  of  his  son  his  post  of  usefulness 
to  the  rising  generation,  he  employed  his  time  either  in 
religious  visits,  or  in  cultivating  his  land  at  home  ;  for 
he  was  active  for  his  years,  and,  delighting  in  agriculture, 
was  wont  to  work  with  his  o^\ti  men  in  summer-time 
with  his  coat  stripped  off,  and  labouring  as  hard  as  they 
did.  A  poor  man  who  saw  him  assisting  in  shaking 
his  orchard  vigorously  in  his  seventy-second  year,  enu- 
merated the  perfections  which  were  apj^arent  even  then 
in  his  frame,  and  concluded  ^vith,  "  It  would  be  a  mur- 
der you  should  ever  die  !"  My  little  sister  and  I  were 
sometimes  indulged  in  being  permitted  to  accompany 
him  to  his  meadows,  to  toss  the  hay  with  small  j^itch- 
forks  which  he  had  got  made  for  us.  He  was  kind  to 
us,  but  was  never  pleased  when  he  saw  us  playing  with 
our  dolls.  His  general  deportment  was  very  grave,  yet 
we  loved  and  venerated  without  fearing  him.  I  re- 
member one  evening,  when  he  had  been  describing  to 
us  Shackleton  House,  the  family  mansion  near  Bingley 
in  Yorkshire,  of  which  I  now  only  recollect  its  being 
built  of  hewn  stone,  that  I  thought  within  myself,  "How 
can  I  ever  survive  my  dear  grandfather?"  The  stars 
which  he  pointed  out  to  me  from  the  hall-door  at  Griese- 
bank  are  the  only  ones  with  which  I  am  acquainted, 
although  long  afterwards  I  studied  astronomy ;  and  I 
never  look  up  at  the  belt  of  Orion  (which  in  our  childish 
glee  we  used  to  call  "the  Irish  gentleman,  O'Eyan,") 
the  polar  star,  and  Ursa  Major,  without  fondly  recalling 
the  good  old  man. 

In  1769  he  went  to  the  yearly  meeting  of  London 


76  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITOllE,  [^77^- 

for  the  last  time,  and  took  my  brother  with  him.  His 
iUustrious  pupil  Edmund  Burke  prevailed  on  him  to 
pay  him  a  visit  at  Beaconsfield,  and  sent  his  coach  to 
convey  him  thither.  My  grandfather  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  riding  in  such  a  grand  coach,  and  offered 
Burke's  servant  half-a-guinea  to  permit  him  to  travel 
on  his  own  horse,  but  the  servant  firmly  refused ;  and, 
however  reluctant,  the  humble  man  had  to  consent  to 
be  conveyed  in  unwelcome  pomp  to  the  arms  of  his 
pupil,  who  treated  him  with  that  hospitality,  kindness, 
and  respect  which  his  sincere  affection  dictated.  In 
the  following  winter  the  candles  suddenly  went  out 
in  our  meeting-house  without  any  apparent  cause, 
and  the  subsequent  illness  of  "  the  old  master"  in- 
terpreted this  into  an  omen  of  his  death.  His  spirit, 
disengaged  from  the  world,  awaited  in  calm  acquiescence 
the  Divine  will,  and  often  overflowed  in  sweet  coun- 
sels to  those  who  visited  him,  although  through  his 
long  life  he  had  been  always  "■  swift  to  hear,  sIom^  to 
speak." 

Amongst  his  visitors  at  this  time  was  Mary  Watson, 
niece  to  Dr.  Fothergill.  She  had  been  lately  married  to 
Eobert  Watson,  and  was  on  her  way  to  his  home  in 
Waterford.  The  degree  of  eclat  which  attended  her 
arrival  in  Ireland  was  surprising.  Her  dress,  which 
was  remarkable  for  Quaker  elegance,  came  directly  into 
fashion.  The  gifts  of  Nature  and  fortune,  the  adoration 
of  a  doating  husband,  and  the  general  admiration  she 
excited  might  naturally  exalt  the  mind  of  a  young 
woman  of  one  and  twenty  years  of  age  ;   but  no  con- 


177^-]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITOflE. 


// 


scioiisness  of  any  merit  of  lier  own  appeared  in  her. 
Metliinks  I  still  behold  the  interesting  picture,  and 
I  remember  the  very  spot  where  I  sat,  a  httle  silent, 
olDservant  child,  and  looked  on  the  decaying  form  of 
the  patriarchal  Abraham  Shackleton  on  his  dying-bed, 
his  emaciated  hand  stretched  forth,  while  beside  him 
knelt  the  lovely  creature  in  the  bloom  of  youth  and 
beauty,  heightened  by  her  elegance  of  apparel,  bend- 
ing her  head,  raising  her  white  hands  to  her  eyes, 
and,  all  dissolved  in  tears,  listening  wdth  the  deepest 
attention  to  the  impressive  words  of  the  expiring  saint 
as  she  received  his  blessing,  "Do  thou  worthily  in 
Ephratah  and  be  famous  in  Bethlehem." 

On  midsummer- day,  1771,  our  venerable  gi-andfather 
expired.  His  family,  assembled  around  his  death-bed, 
witnessed  the  humble  resignation  with  which  the  puri- 
fied spirit  took  its  flight.  He  had  led  a  righteous  life, 
and  was  blessed  in  the  reward  of  a  tranquil,  hopeful, 
trusting  death -bed ;  for  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die 
in  the  Lord !" 

A  great  concourse  of  Friends  came  from  distant  parts 
to  attend  the  funeral.  Although  it  was  a  fine  summer's 
day,  it  thundered  while  Elizabeth  Hutchinson  appeared 
in  testimony,  in  the  course  of  which  she  quoted,  "  0 
Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ^  0  grave,  where  is  thy 
victory  1 "  The  deep,  awful  voice  of  nature  added 
to  the  solemnity  of  that  scene  in  the  graveyard,  embo- 
somed in  the  dark  grove  of  fir-trees.  ]\Iy  father  long 
bewailed  the  death  of  his  worthy  parent.  I  remember 
his  bursting  into  tears  at  liis  own  table ;  and  he  was  in 


7 8  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE,  [^77^- 

the  liabit  of  retiring  to  the  room  where  his  father  died 
to  give  vent  to  his  sorrow  in  silence  and  sohtude.  It 
was  remarkable  to  see  a  cheerful,  happily  circumstanced 
man,  in  the  prime  of  life,  lament  with  such  prolonged 
affliction  the  loss  of  an  aged  parent. 

On  this  occasion  Edmund  Burke  thus  expressed 
himself  to  my  father  :  "  I  am  heartily  affected  with 
"  the  subject  of  your  last  letter.  I  had  a  true  honour 
'•  and  affection  for  that  excellent  man.  I  feel  some- 
"  thing  like  a  satisfaction  in  the  midst  of  my  concern 
•'  which  I  had  not  in  the  same  degree  before,  that  I 
"  was  fortunate  enough  to  have  him  once  more  under 
"  my  roof  before  his  departure.  He  was  indeed  a  man 
"  of  singular  piety,  rectitude,  and  virtue,  and  he  had 
"  along  with  these  qualities  a  native  elegance  of  man- 
"  ners  which  nothing  but  genuine  good- nature  and  un- 
"  affected  simphcity  of  heart  can  give,  and  which  they 
"  will  give  infallibly,  be  the  exterior  forms  what  they 
'*  will." 

In  speaking  of  my  early  days,  I  must  not  omit 
to  mention  James  and  Nanny  Mc  Connaughty.  Who 
that  knew  us  has  not  known  James  and  Nanny  1 
Their  honesty,  their  neatness,  their  simplicity^  and 
even  their  singularities  claimed  affection  and  respect. 
Nanny  had  been  servant  to  my  father,  and  her  inte- 
grity and  diligence,  and  above  aU  her  piety,  gained  her 
universal  esteem.  An  old  man  sometimes  frequented 
Ballitore,  by  name  John  Mc  Connaughty,  famous  for 
having  made  a  perfect  pun.  It  was  thus  :  John,  hav- 
ing joined  the  Society  of  Friends,  entered  into  a  reli- 


177I-]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  79 

gious  disputation  with  a  clergyman,  who  threatened,  at 
length,  that  he  would  cane  him.  "  I  believe,"  said 
John,  "  thou  hast  more  of  the  spirit  of  Cain  [cane] 
than  of  Abel  [able]  in  thee."  Old  John  was  charmed 
with  the  good  qualities  of  Nanny  Waring,  and  destined 
her  for  wife  to  his  son  James,  whom,  on  his  return 
home,  he  sent  to  visit  her.  One  hoii  mot  amongst 
others  is  recorded  of  James  during  his  courtship.  While 
arguing  on  one  occasion  with  his  beloved  upon  some 
indifferent  matter,  she  said,  by  way  of  reproving  his 
positiveness,  that  she  believed  he  wanted  to  persuade 
her  out  of  her  name.  "It  is  the  very  thing  I  wish 
most  to  do,"  replied  the  brisk  bachelor.  His  wish 
was  accomphshed  ;  and  as  they  were  returning  from 
having  presented  their  marriage,  while  James  rode 
attentively  beside  his  intended  bride,  a  person  re- 
marked, not  very  kindly,  on  his  complaisance,  and 
added,  "  But  when  poverty  comes  in  at  the  door,  love 
will  fly  out  at  the  window."  iJ^anny  never  forgot  this 
sarcasm.  She  often  repeated  it,  and  always  with  this 
observation  :  "  No,  no  !  though  jjoverty  came  in  at  the 
door,  love  never  flew  out  at  the  window." 

They  lived  at  my  father's,  James  as  steward,  and 
Nanny  as  children's  maid.  If  a  boy  ran  away  from 
school,  James  was  despatched  after  him,  and  such  was 
his  success  that  the  boys  gave  him  the  name  of  "  the 
blood-hound."  They  loved  him  heartily  notwithstand- 
ing. He  was  well  esteemed,  cheerful,  and  so  religiously 
disposed,  that  he  sometimes  spoke  as  a  minister  in  our 
religious  meetings.     On  one  of  these  occasions  his  text 


8a  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  ['77^' 

was  concerning  the  elect  lady  and  lier  children.  I 
perplexed  him  by  running  to  him  after  meeting,  to  ask 
what  lady  he  had  been  telling  us  of — "  Was  it  Lady 
Burrows  1 "  who  sometimes  called  to  see  him,  for  he 
had  been  a  steward  to  her  father.  He  frequently 
introduced  extempore  rhymes  into  his  conversation, 
which  entertained  his  hearers,  and  delighted  us  little 
ones. 

When  he  afterwards  left  my  father's  service,  and 
took  the  grist-mill  on  the  river,  his  integrity  procured 
him  the  title  of  "the  honest  miller."  But  his  simj)licity 
was  often  imposed  upon,  and  he  extended  hospitality 
to  those  who  brought  their  corn  to  be  ground  oftener 
than  was  consistent  with  economy,  or  with  poor  Nan- 
ny's ease  of  body  or  mind.  Having  met  with  some 
offence  in  the  market  of  Athy,  James  posted  on  his 
mill-door  a  ^viitten  invitation  to  the  neighbouring 
farmers  to  bring  their  corn  and  commodities  to  Balli- 
tore  on  the  second  day  of  the  week.  The  invitation 
was  accepted,  and  thus  a  market  was  established.  A 
few  years  after  this,  a  weekly  market  and  three  fairs 
were  established  at  Ballitore.  If  a  market  afforded 
a  scene  delightful  for  its  novelty  and  bustle,  how 
much  more  delightful  was  a  fair  !  Ale-houses  were 
increased,  which  did  not  add  to  the  happiness  of  the 
inhabitants.  Law  was  called  in  to  preserve  order,  and 
those  who  lost  any  of  their  goods  went  stoutly  to 
search  suspected  houses,  having  previously  borrowed 
Ephraim  Boake's  search-warrant,  which,  though  long 


177 1-]  '^^^   ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  8l 

very  much  the  worse  for  wear,  continued  in  use  and 
esteem  for  a  good  share  of  thirty  years. 

During  the  absence  of  our  parents  at  the  yearly  meet- 
ing in  Dublin,  my  aunt  always  removed  to  the  school, 
to  see  that  all  went  right  in  the  house-keeping,  and  she 
took  my  sister  and  me  with  her.  The  large  family — 
the  days — the  bustle — so  different  from  our  usual  re- 
tirement!— it  was  the  world,  and  the  world  has  its 
charms  !  On  these  occasions  my  aunt  always  gave  us  one 
day  to  spend  to  our  heart's  content.  This  day,  devoted 
to  pleasure,  I  knew  not  what  to  compare  it  to.  Our  Httle 
companions  came  to  us  with  their  dolls  newly  dressed 
as  were  ours.  A  feast  was  prepared,  in  which  a  pud- 
ding and  decanters  filled  with  wine  were  conspicuous. 
It  is  true  these  decanters  were  only  two  ends  of  an 
hour-glass,  but  they  contained  sufficient  to  afford  each 
a  taste.  Yet  such  is  the  nature  of  pleasure,  that  our 
spirits  generally  flagged  towards  evening,  and  the  day 
seldom  ended  as  it  began.  I  am  ready  to  conclude  that 
had  the  yearly  meeting  held  longer  than  a  week,  we 
should  have  tired  of  the  world,  and  sighed  for  our 
quiet  abode,  where  a  race  up  the  Mill-avenue,  when  a 
carriage  passed  along  the  high  road,  to  get  a  peep  at 
the  fine  folk  it  might  chance  to  contain,  made  one  of 
our  chief  amusements. 

Even  into  our  quiet  al^ode  trouble  and  temptation 
sometimes  intruded.  Well  do  I  remember  that  evening 
when,  with  no  intention  of  breaking  our  prescribed 
bounds,  we  stretched  our  necks  over  the  orchard  hedge 
to  procure   a   sight   of  feats   of  horsemanship  whicli 


82  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [^77^' 

were  being  exhibited  in  a  neigbbouring  field  ;  but  Tom 
Wray  and  Jobn  Elsey,  who  saw  our  situation,  prompted 
by  good-nature  or  politeness,  approached  and  prevailed 
upon  us  to  descend  the  ditch.  We  went  with  the 
timidity  of  conscious  misdoing,  and,  mixing  with  the 
crowd  of  spectators,  did  not  lose  this  uneasy  sense  in 
the  entertainment  which  so  new  a  scene  afforded.  Yet 
amusement  was  beginning  to  be  the  predominant  sensa- 
tion, when,  to  our  utter  dismay  and  confusion,  James 
Mc  Connaughty  made  his  appearance  !  I  do  not  think 
he  spoke  on6  word,  but  we  followed  him  from  the 
place  of  diversion  with  countenances  glowing  with 
shame,  and  hearts  smitten  with  remorse.  Thus  were 
we  introduced  into  the  presence  of  our  aunt  and  our 
sister  Margaret.  My  discerning  aunt  saw  we  were 
already  punished,  and  added  little  to  our  punishment ; 
but  my  sister  had  become  "  serious,"  and  had  sincerely 
embraced  religion.  Affrighted  at  the  slippery  paths  of 
youth,  she  regarded  our  error  with  more  severity  than 
did  our  more  experienced  aunt.  Her  lecture  was  very 
grave  on  our  having  clandestinely  stolen  away  to 
partake  of  amusements  which  we  knew  would  not  be 
approved  of,  and  she  inquired  how  the  query  periodically 
asked  in  our  meetings  of  disciphne,  concerning  attend- 
ance at  "  vain  sports  and  places  of  diversion,"  could 
be  answered.  At  this  climax  we  verily  beheved  we 
were  in  imminent  danger  of  being  disoT\Tied  by  the 
Society.  We  burst  into  tears,  wliich  ceased  not  to 
flow  till  we  lost  the  sense  of  our  guilt  and  sorrow 
in  the  sweet  oblivion  of  sleep. 


177 1-]  T2^   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  8^ 

Though  our  general  conduct  was,  I  suppose,  not 
more  correct  than  that  of  other  children  of  our  age 
who  had  like  advantages,  we  had  great  awe,  not  to  say- 
terror,  on  our  minds  of  committing  offences  against 
religion.  For  this  reason  we  thought  we  must  not 
speak  to  transgressors ;  and  I  remember  an  incident* 
singular  enough,  which  befel  me  when  very  young.  I 
was  engaged  in  working  a  pair  of  pockets  for  myself  in 
a  shell  pattern  with  green  worsted.  My  brother  called 
in ;  I  showed  him  my  pocket ;  and,  willing  to  exhibit 
my  dexterity,  began  to  work  at  it,  when  on  a  sudden  I 
recollected  it  was  First-day.  Alarmed  at  what  I  had 
done,  I  laid  my  work  down  in  dismay,  and  went  to  my 
favourite  window  in  the  garret,  which  commanded  a 
pretty  view.  While  I  was  thus  solacing  my  eyes  and 
comforting  my  heart,  the  Avindow-sash  fell  on  my  neck, 
and  made  me  a  prisoner.  I  roared  with  all  my  might. 
My  aunt  heard  the  cries,  which  being  outside  the 
house,  she  feared  one  of  us  had  fallen  into  "the 
Sconce,"  and  ran  about  greatly  terrified,  to  search  for 
us,  whilst  the  continued  wailings  resounded  in  her  ears. 
At  length,  finding  that  no  one  came  to  the  rescue,  I 
made  a  desperate  effort,  and  disengaged  myself,  hav- 
ing escaped  with  a  bruised  neck  and  scratched  face ; 
but  I  firmly  believed  that  this  accident  befell  me  be- 
cause I  had  broken  the  sabbath. 

As  I  could  read  when  four  years  old,  I  was  able  to 
peruse  Stephen  Crisp's  "  Short  History  of  a  Long  Tra- 
vel from  Babylon  to  Bethel,"  an  allegory  I  by  no 
means  understood.     Beheving  the  whole  to  be  literally 


84  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^77l* 

true,  I  was  wonderfully  desirous  to  see  that  liouse 
whicli  was  the  end  and  reward  of  so  wearisome  a  jour- 
ney. I  frequently  ascended  a  sloping  flower-bank  in 
the  garden,  to  gaze  with  awe-struck  admiration  on  the 
house  now  much  enlarged  and  called  Willowbrook, 
which,  as  children  measure  everything  by  their  own 
size,  I  thought  at  such  a  distance  must  be  the  object 
of  my  ardent  desires.  How  I  was  undeceived  I  know 
not,  but  undeceived  I  was ;  and,  on  my  grandfather's 
return  from  a  London  yearly  meeting,  thinking  that 
Bethel  was  surely  the  object  of  so  long  a  journey,  I 
approached  him  with  the  enquiry  if  he  had  seen 
"  God's  house." 

Griesebank  was  indeed  a  dehghtful  residence,  and 
continues  to  be  so,  though  the  neatly  clipped  hedges 
which  ran  through  the  middle  of  the  orchard,  and  were 
terminated  by  "Peggy's  arbour,"  are  now  entirely  gone. 
My  partiality  for  orchards  may  arise  from  my  having 
spent  so  much  time  in  this  one,  where  I  often  roamed 
for  hours  alone  ;  for  my  young  mind  was  rather  of  a 
contemplative  turn,  and  the  impediment  in  my  speech 
made  me  avoid  company  in  which  I  was  not  perfectly 
at  my  ease.  This  retired  spot  permitted  me  to  indulge 
my  little  reveries,  sometimes  sitting  on  the  mount,  and 
gazing  with  delight  on  the  surrounding  scenery  j  which 
was  not  the  less  admired  because  it  was  familiar,  for  I 
ever  had  a  passionate  love  for  the  beauties  of  nature. 
At  other  times  1  amused  myself  with  carving  on  the 
bark  of  the  trees  ;  and,  when  the  red  sap  followed  the 
incision,  I  thought  of  Ovid's  legends  of  mortals  trans- 


1772.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  85 

formed  into  trees,  and  queried,  could  such  things  be  ? 
Was  this  blood,  and  had  I  inflicted  a  wound  1 

At  the  close  of  the  year,  or  rather  the  beginning  of 
the  new  one,  the  mummers  paraded  the  village.  These 
were  two  men  wearing  shirts  adorned  with  ribbons 
over  their  clothes,  and  attended  by  a  frightful  mask, 
wliich  they  called  a  "  pickle-herring."  My  horror  of 
them  was  beyond  telhng.  Indeed  they  were  a  general 
terror  to  children ;  but  they  afforded  so  much  amuse- 
ment to  the  people,  that  the  wiser  part  of  our  commu- 
nity were  unable  to  suppress  them.  In  after  years  the 
Whiteboy  Act  frightened  the  mummers  as  much  as 
they  had  frightened  others,  and  put  a  stop  to  their 
proceedings. 

There  lived  at  the  foot  of  the  Nine-tree -hill,  about 
this  time,  a  comfortable  farmer  named  Loughlin  Duffy. 
His  son  Thomas,  when  nine  years  old,  while  returning 
from  the  funeral  of  a  brother,  was  suddenly  taken  ill, 
and  lost  his  speech  and  the  power  of  walking.  Con- 
tinuing in  this  state,  he  permitted  no  one  to  see  him 
eat,  but  took  what  was  left  for  him,  taught  his  brothers 
and  sisters  to  read  and  write,  wrote  a  good  hand  him- 
self, and  performed  several  works  of  ingenuity,  such  as 
making  a  fiddle,  a  wooden  lock,  &c.,  under  the  bed- 
clothes. There  was,  of  course,  but  one  cause  assigned 
for  this  marvellous  dispensation :  Tom  was  faiiy-stmck. 
The  fairies  visited  and  instructed  him  in  the  soli- 
tude of  his  confinement ;  he  Avas  serving  his  appren- 
ticeship to  them,  and  at  the  end  of  seven  years  he 
would  come  forth  a  great  doctor.     The  term,  however, 


86  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITOEE.  ['77 2- 

continued  two  years  longer,  and  on  his  recovery  Tom 
became  a  schoolmaster,  which  occupation  he  filled  with 
credit  among  the  lower  ranks  for  the  remainder  of  his 
life.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  good  health,  his  constitution 
when  he  arrived  at  maturity  having  probably  overcome 
those  nervous  affections  which  were  the  cause  of  his 
strange  condition ;  but  he  was  ever  small  in  size,  and 
had  a  dwindled,  pale  appearance.  After  his  neigh- 
bours had  looked  for  a  while  for  sometliing  extraordi- 
nary from  him,  the  fairy  theory  seemed  forgotten.  To 
visit  him  in  his  confinement  made  a  favourite  walk  for 
our  visitors.  Not  far  distant  from  his  habitation  was 
the  Eath  of  Mullaghmast,  the  chief  abode  of  fairies  in 
this  country,  and  the  place  where  they  held  their  court. 
Tradition  also  reported  it  to  have  been  a  Danish  fort ; 
and  the  hole  in  the  centre,  which  was  bare  of  grass, 
was  asserted  to  have  been  made  to  contain  the  blood  of 
their  prisoners  of  war,  for  no  grass  ever  grew  where 
human  blood  had  been  shed.  As  another  proof  of  this 
assertion,  a  bare  spot  on  the  Mne-tree-hill  was  shown 
as  that  where  a  gentleman  named  Dillon  had  been  shot 
in  a  duel. 

All  the  learning  and  piety  in  our  village  could  not 
conquer  the  superstition  of  the  age.  A  neighbour  died 
of  a  malignant  fever  ;  he  had  a  thrice  repeated  dream 
before  he  took  ill,  in  which  a  voice  called  to  him  three 
times,  "  Prepare  !"  It  seems  as  if  intimations  of  no 
common  import  have  been  occasionally  thus  conveyed, 
and  that  some  attention  is  due  to  them.;  but,  as  ail 
good  things  are  subject  to  abuse,  superstition  has  made 


J  772.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  8/ 

of  dreams  instruments  of  torture  to  weak  and  suscep- 
tible minds  ;  and,  alas  !  superstition  was  one  of  the 
sins  of  Ballitore.  The  death  of  one  of  the  Fuller 
family  was  said  to  be  announced  by  the  melodious 
wailing  of  the  Banshee,  who,  when  visible,  appeared  in 
the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman  combing  her  hair.  For 
the  rest  of  the  neighbours  the  croaking  of  a  raven  suf- 
ficed on  these  solemn  occasions.  The  spirits  of  the 
departed  were  said  to  be  seen  gliding  through  the 
meeting-house  grove ;  and  "the  Runner,"  a  stream  flow- 
ing through  the  heart  of  the  village,  could  not  be 
crossed  after  midnight  without  fear  and  trembling. 
The  candles  going  out  suddenly  during  an  evening 
meeting  foretold  the  death  of  the  venerable  Abraham 
Shackleton  ;  previous  to  which  candles  went  out  seve- 
ral times  in  the  chamber  of  a  little  pupil,  and  even  my 
sensible  mother  deemed  it  a  warning  that  her  father- 
in-law  would  shortly  expire — which  he  did. 

Amongst  the  pupils  at  this  period  was  a  young  Quaker 
from  Jamaica,  Jesse  Balrieves.  On  rising  one  morn- 
ing and  beholding  the  ground  covered  with  snow,  a 
sight  he  never  had  seen  before,  he  called  out  in  asto- 
nishment, "  0  boys  !  see  all  the  sugar  ! "  Many  "West 
Indians  were  sent  to  this  school.  Two  of  these,  l!^ew- 
man  and  Sam  Curtin,  were  so  small  and  so  lively,  that, 
fearing  harm  should  come  to  them  in  their  wanderings, 
my  mother  kept  them  pinned,  literally  pinned,  to  her 
apron.  She  had  them  to  sleep  in  her  room,  and 
watched  them  with  a  mother's  care.  Poor  little  New- 
man strayed  from  her  once,  to  his  cost,  for  one  of 


88  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [l772= 

his  schoolfellows,  in  attempting  to  mow,  grievously 
wounded  him  with  the  scythe.  My  mother  needed 
all  her  fortitude,  tenderness  and  skill,  and  all  these 
she  possessed  in  no  common  degree.  Edward  Miles, 
the  village  shoemaker,  was  immediately  summoned,  he 
closed  the  wound,  which  was  in  the  calf  of  the  leg, 
with  two  stitches ;  my  mother  applied  her  favourite 
styptic — "  the  liquid  balsam,"  (made  of  Solomon's  seal 
and  white  sugar  pounded  together) — the  child  was 
kept  on  low  diet,  no  fever  came  on,  and  a  cure  was 
speedily  effected.  The  lad  who  wielded  the  scythe 
was  compelled  to  sit  by  while  Newman's  wound  was 
dressing,  and  this  was  punishment  enough. 

The  high-spirited  lads  of  this  time  generally  mani- 
fested an  ambition  for  the  army.  It  was  so  with 
young  Black.  Immediately  on  leaving  school,  he  re- 
signed the  luxuries  of  his  paternal  home  for  the  hard- 
ships of  the  camp  in  the  war  with  America.  He  served 
with  Lord  Cornwallis,  who  noticed  him,  encouraged 
his  abilities,  and  employed  him  in  drawing  maps  and 
taking  observations.  This  unfortunate  youth  was 
wounded,  made  captive,  and  confined  in  a  crowded 
prison,  without  sufficient  bedding,  proper  food,  or  any 
of  the  comforts  which  might  alleviate  his  distressing 
fate.  Thus  he  died,  and  dying  remembered  Ballitore, 
saying  just  at  the  close,  "  Ah  !  if  I  were  in  Ballitore,  I 
should  not  be  thus."  This  intelligence  came  from  a 
brother  officer,  who  was  a  complete  stranger  to  us. 

Soon  after  Tom  Eyre  had  left  us,  William  Cornwallis 
Hall  came  to  school.     The  striking  likeness  which  he 


1772.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  89 

bore  to  our  beloved  Tom  impressed  us  in  his  favour. 
At  sixteen  he  was  sent,  a  lovely  victim  to  war,  to  Ame- 
rica. He  and  Tom  Eyre  afterwards  met  in  the  West 
Indies ;  they  quickly  found  they  were  both  "  Ballitore 
boys,"  and  soon  loved  each  other.  WiUiam  told  Tom 
we  had  called  him  "  Second  Tom  Eyre."  When  peace 
was  proclaimed,  the  remains  of  the  army  returned,  and 
with  them  William  Hall,  then  a  captain  of  distin- 
guished merit. 

A  Bourdeaux  merchant  named  Skinner  sent  a  son 
about  eight  years  old  to  Ballitore  school,  and,  having 
paid  him  a  visit,  was  so  pleased  with  his  situation  that 
he  determined  on  sending  his  second  son,  little  David, 
though  the  child's  mother  was  reluctant  to  part  him  at 
so  early  an  age  as  five  years  and  a  half.  It  was  no 
wonder  he  should  have  fast  hold  of  a  mother's  affec- 
tions, for  he  quickly  seized  upon  ours.  His  tender 
age,  his  foreign  language,  his  extraordinary  beauty,  and 
artless  affection,  interested  the  whole  family  in  his 
favour.  His  sister  could  scarce  have  loved  him  better 
than  I  did  ;  he  was  my  joy,  my  pride,  and  my  delight. 
By  this  time  his  brother  had  forgotten  his  French,  and 
little  David  could  not  speak  EngHsh.  "  I  know  not 
what  you  say,"  replied  James  to  the  prattle  of  his  bro- 
ther. "  Je  ne  sais  pas  ce  que  vous  dites,"  answered 
David.  Embraces  were  a  language  they  both  well 
understood,  and  David  enquired  the  English  of  "  mon 
cher  frere."  He  found  little  difficulty  in  making  us 
comprehend  his  meaning,  his  countenance  and  gestures 
were  so  expressive.     He  learned  our  names,  picked  up 


yo  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  L^77^- 

English  -words,  and  was  the  playtliing  of  the  whole 
house. 

When  the  measles  again  visited  Ballitore,  and  our 
darling  David,  amongst  others,  was  attacked,  my  dis- 
tress was  excessive.  All  the  invalids  recovered  except 
our  little  foreigner,  whose  tender  age,  conspiring  with 
the  change  of  climate,  probably  caused  the  rapid  de- 
cline and  hectic  fever  which  immediately  succeeded 
the  attack  of  disease.  His  uncle  was  written  for,  and 
so  was  Dr.  Gervase  of  Portarlington,  who  spoke  French 
fluently,  and  was  thus  the  better  able  to  understand 
the  child's  complaints.  We  beheld  with  inexpressible 
concern  his  decaying  state,  his  fading  bloom,  his  wast- 
ing flesh,  the  lustre  of  his  fine  black  eyes  extinguished, 
and  the  peevishness  of  sickness  taking  the  place  of  the 
vivacity  of  his  age  and  country.  Yet  hoj^e  was  begin- 
ning to  revive,  the  summer  was  advancing,  our  little 
patient  was  able  to  take  the  air,  carried  by  my  brother 
on  a  pillow  before  him  on  horseback,  and  we  thought 
his  spirits  and  appetite  were  reviving ;  when  one  even- 
ing a  carriage  arrived  with  a  messenger  sent  by  his 
uncle  to  convey  him  to  Dublin,  whence,  as  soon  as  his 
strength  permitted,  he  was  to  return  to  Bourdeaux. 
To  part  with  our  lovely  David,  perhaps  never  to  see 
him  more — to  resign  him,  doubly  endeared  as  he  was 
by  his  sufferings — to  give  him  up  to  the  arms  of  a 
stranger — oppressed  the  whole  family  with  grief ;  but 
mine  was  immoderate.  Every  post  brought  us  an 
account  of  him,  and  I  awaited  the  news  with  distress- 
ing agitation.     Exactly  a  month  after  he  left  us  the 


1 772-]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  pi 

fatal  letter  came.  I  dreaded  the  account,  and  walked 
into  the  garden  to  avoid  it.  When  I  returned,  my 
cousin,  with  trembling  voice,  said,  "  The  httle  boy  is 
dead."  I  am  a  mother,  and  I  have  lost  by  an  un- 
timely death  a  lovely  and  engaging  child  ;  yet,  to  this 
hour,  I  cannot  speak  or  think  of  little  David  Skinner 
without  emotion. 


|c» 


92 


CHAPTEE  lY. 


1772. 


Last  days  of  Aldborough  Wrightson — The  first  Jew  visits  Balli- 
tore. — He  exhibits  a  mandrake. — Story  of  Lady  Cathcart. — 
A  mail  coach  accident. — A  father's  blessing. — A  relic  of  the 
penal  laws. — The  "  honourable  "  George. — A  mauvais  sujet. — 
William  Leadbeater. — Aldworth  Phaire — Marriage  of  Mar- 
garet Shackleton. — Death  of  Aunt  Carleton. — Aldborough 
Wrightson's  grave. —  Heroism  of  Arabella  Forbes. — Tom  Eyre 
rebuked  by  a  blockhead. — Eichard  and  Elizabeth  Shackleton 
remove  to  the  Retreat.  —Marriage  of  the  second  Abraham 
Shackleton  to  Lydia  Mellor. — Sketch  of  the  bride. — Death  of 
a  "  convinced  Friend." — Birth  of  the  second  Richard  Shack- 
leton.— Lines  addressed  to  the  infant  by  his  grandfather. — 
Molly  Hudson  begins  a  twenty  years'  visit  to  the  Retreat. — 
A  convict  rescued  from  "the  Duke  of  the  World." — A  tender- 
hearted Judge. — Reminescences  and  anecdotes  of  the  Author's 
parents.      ..  ..          ..          ..          ..          ..         91  to  130 

^LDBOEOUGH  WEIGHTSON  had  quitted  Balli- 
tore  in  a  pique  with  my  mother,  who  had  discovered 
that  he  had  joined  the  Freemasons.  She  much  disap- 
proved of  this  mysterious  society,  and  their  oaths  of 
secresy ;  and,  beheving  that  he  had  violated  his  con- 
science  by  taking   an   oath,  she  told  him  her  mind 


I  7 72. J  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  93 

plainly.  But  when  she  found  that,  notwithstanding 
her  remonstrances,  he  was  resolved  upon  leaving  Balli- 
tore,  she  told  him  that  when  the  hour  of  adversity 
had  arrived,  which  she  foresaw  would  come  upon  him, 
he  should  be  welcome  back.  That  hour  came.  His 
engaging  society  was  sought  for  by  the  dissipated,  and 
he  was  led  astray  by  the  example  of  people  in  every 
way  unworthy  of  him.  The  consequence  was  that,  in 
broken  health,  and  oppressed  with  debt,  he  came  back 
a  penitent  to  his  old  master,  determined  to  atone  for 
past  offences  by  returning  to  his  father,  and  offering 
any  terms  for  a  reunion  with  his  family.  In  this  reso- 
lution his  Ballitore  friends  encouraged  him,  and  he  left 
us,  with  mutual  anxiety  for  the  result. 

We  were  astonished  to  hear  no  account  of  him  for 
some  weeks.  At  length  he  came  again  to  Ballitore,  so 
altered,  so  pale,  emaciated,  and  melancholy,  that  he  ap- 
peared but  the  shadow  of  his  former  self.  "  Mistress," 
said  he  as  he  entered,  "  I  am  come  to  you  as  my  last 
resource."  He  accounted  for  our  not  having  heard 
from  him  by  informing  us  that,  on  going  to  Dubhu, 
he  stopped  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  from  thence 
sent  a  message  to  his  father,  entreating  permission  to 
wait  on  him  ;  but  the  only  reply  he  received  was  that 
the  house  was  full  of  company,  and  there  was  no  room 
for  him.  That  hope  thus  cruelly  cut  off,  he  sank  into 
despair.  He  dreaded  being  arrested  for  debt,  went  on 
board  a  ship  bound  for  Whitehaven,  and  had  nearly 
perished  in  a  storm.  He  found  the  air  of  the  north  too 
keen,  and  returned,  as  he  said,  "  to  die  with  liis  old 


94  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^772- 

master."  The  warm  heart  of  friendship  was  open  to 
him;  he  found  himseK  where  everyone  loved  him ;  he 
was  cheered,  and  his  engaging  vivacity  returned.  But 
the  vital  principle  was  wounded,  the  noble  spirit  was 
broken,  the  stamina  was  destroyed,  and  a  fixed  con- 
sumption became  daily  more  and  more  evident.  His 
friends,  grieved  and  indignant,  exerted  all  their  influ- 
ence with  his  parents,  and  prevailed  so  far  as  to  get  an 
increase  of  allowance,  to  enable  him  to  go  elsewhere  in 
search  of  health.  But  they  still  refused  to  see  him. 
He  went  to  Mallow,  and  appeared  to  be  getting  better ; 
being  ordered  horse  exercise,  his  parents  were  in  vain 
solicited  to  provide  him  with  the  means.  Even  his 
mother's  feehngs  were  not  touched  by  the  representa- 
tion of  liis  condition,  though  we  heard  that  at  that 
very  time  she  paid  a  hundred  guineas  for  a  pair  of  dia- 
mond ear-rings.  She  wrote  indeed  to  him,  and  told 
him  that  in  so  doing  she  broke  a  vow.  "  Alas  !"  wrote 
the  dejected,  dying  son  to  his  friend  Eichard  Shackle- 
ton,  "  tell  me,  for  you  know,  ought  parents  to  make 
vows  against  their  children?"  He,  however,  got  the 
use  of  a  horse,  and  he  found  such  benefit  from  the 
exercise,  the  mild  air,  and  the  waters,  that  if  he  had 
been  fostered  by  parental  love,  he  might  have  re- 
covered. 

His  allowance,  ample  as  his  father  deemed  it,  was 
not  adequate  to  meet  the  calls  of  illness  and  infirmity 
at  a  watering-place;  and  he  had  therefore  to  leave 
Mallow.  For  some  time  after  his  return,  the  improve- 
ment of  liis  health  supported  his  spirits  under  the  pres- 


T772.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  95 

sure  of  unkindness,  and  his  conversation  continued  to 
afford  us  ever  new  delight.  Some  of  his  remarks  I 
still  remember,  and  often  perceived  their  truth.  One 
of  these  was  that  the  books  we  see  in  a  man's  house 
generally  denote  his  character  ;  another,  that  ailing 
people  did  not  hke  to  be  told  they  looked  well.  The 
"Elegy  on  an  Unfortunate  Young  Lady"  he  said  was 
Pope's  best  production;  his  "Messiah"  was  a  para- 
phrase of  Isaiah,  but  that  beautiful  poem  was  all  his 
ow^n.  He  was  provoked  at  Purver's  translation  of  the 
Bible.*  "  This,"  said  he,  taking  an  old  tattered  Bible 
in  his  hand,  and  looking  with  disdain  on  Purver's  two 
volumes  in  folio,  "  this  book,  which  one  would  think 
"  scarce  worth  taking  out  of  the  gutter,  is  worth  a 
"  dozen  of  that." 

The  cold  of  the  following  winter  and  the  sharp 
winds  of  spring  proved  too  much  for  his  delicate  frame ; 
we  noticed  with  deep  regret  the  return  of  every  fatal 
symptom,  and  he  felt  himself  that  this  world  would 
soon  know  him  no  more.  One  day  his  hair  was  being 
thinned,  and  my  little  sister  and  I  eagerly  asked  for 
some  of  those  beautiful  locks  to  adorn  the  heads  of  our 
dolls.  "  You  may  have  it  all  by-and-by,"  said  our  dear 
Wrightson  in  a  melancholy  tone,  and  our  hearts  were 
smitten  with  sorrow  at  the  idea  that  he  was  gliding 
away  from  us.  The  hair  was  then  worn  long  and  loose, 
save  that  it  was  confined  near  the  head  with  a  string  ; 

*  No  wonder.  Whatever  the  claims  of  Purver's  translation  to 
correctness,  it  is  strangely  deficient  in  the  pathos  and  beauty  of 
the  authorized  version. — Editor. 


g6  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [^77'^' 

and  tliis  fashion  admirably  displayed  the  grace  and 
beauty  of  those  shining  auburn  curls  which  Aldbo- 
rough  used  gaily  to  call  his  "  thrum."  "  And,  mistress," 
he  would  say,  "  when  I  become  a  Friend,  won't  you  let 
me  keep  my  thrum  ?" 

Whilst  his  Ballitore  friends  watched  liis  looks,  anti- 
cipated his  mshes,  and  strove  to  alleviate  liis  distress 
of  body  and  mind, — for  he  often  said,  "  I  am  sick  of 
many  griefs," — his  parents  inflexibly  maintained  their 
cruel  reserve,  though  frequently  remonstrated  with  by 
letter  and  in  person  by  those  who  loved  and  pitied 
him ;  and,  when  asked  where  they  would  have  their 
son  buried,  they  coldly  replied,  "  In  the  nearest  church- 
yard." One  who  chanced  to  be  in  his  room  while  he 
slept  heard  him  on  waking,  when  he  believed  himself 
to  be  alone,  break  forth  with  this  complaint,  ''  Can  the 
"  annals  of  any  history  furnish  an  example  of  cruelty 
"  like  my  mother's  V  Cadogan  Keatmge  often  came 
to  see  him,  and  offered  him  any  service  which  lay  in 
Ms  power,  as  a  gentleman,  a  clergyman,  or  a  friend. 
Aldborough  requested  him  to  write  to  his  father — once 
more  to  appeal  to  him.  In  consequence  he  received  a 
visit  from  his  brother-m-law  Nesbitt,  who  was  on  his 
way  to  the  races  at  the  Curragh.  He  assured  Aldbo- 
rough that  his  parents  had  no  idea  he  was  so  ill.  My 
mother,  who  was  present,  indignantly  told  him  that 
her  husband,  who  w\as  known  to  be  a  man  of  veracity, 
had  often  informed  them  of  his  state.  The  visitor  was 
very  pohte,  and  declared  that  everything  should  now" 
be  done  for  him.     The  dying  victim,  turning  his  ex- 


1772.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  97 

pressive  eyes  upon  him,  replied,  "  It  is  too  late ;  all  is 
over  ;  my  heart  is  broken  ;  and  I  am  murdered."  His 
own  good  sense  and  skill  in  medical  science  taught  him 
the  nature  of  his  complaint  too  well  to  allow  him  to 
entertain  those  hopes  of  recovery  with  which  consump- 
tive patients  are  so  apt  to  flatter  themselves.  Yet  the 
love  of  life,  even  embittered  as  his  had  been,  and  the 
benefit  he  had  before  derived  from  the  waters  of  Mal- 
low, induced  him  again  to  undertake  a  journey  tliither. 
On  parting  from  my  mother,  being  too  weak  to  rise 
from  his  chair,  he  took  off  his  hat,  and,  taking  a  last 
and  solemn  farewell,  said,  "  I  die  with  more  love  to 
"  you,  than  to  any  other  woman  in  the  world  ;  and  you 
'^  are  more  my  mother  than  she  who  bore  me." 

The  evening  of  the  day  he  left  Ballitore  his  mother 
stopped  at  my  father's  gate;  but,  on  hearing  he  had 
left,  she  would  not  come  in.  She  was  told  that  her 
son  was  so  weak  he  could  not  get  beyond  Carlow,  and 
that  she  could  readily  overtake  him.  "  No  ;  he  had 
treated  Mr.  Nesbitt  very  ill."  She  was  invited  to  take 
some  refreshment,  but  she  excused  herself  lest  her 
horses  might  take  cold ;  and,  turning  about,  drove 
away,  leaving  us  full  of  surprise  and  indignation  at  the 
tenderness  shown  to  brute  animals  by  a  mother  who 
refused  it  to  her  dying  son,  one  of  the  loveliest  and 
most  accomplished  men  of  liis  day.  This  forsaken, 
dying  son  was  enabled  by  easy  stages  to  reach  Clon- 
mel,  but  found  himself  totally  unable  to  proceed  fur- 
ther, and  expired  there  in  the  arms  of  his  nurse,  who 
had  accompanied  him  from  Ballitore.     Thus  died,  at 


pS  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITOEE. 


//. 


tlie  age  of  twenty-four,  far  from  the  friends  who  truly 
loved  him,  one  who  had  promised  to  be  one  of  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  the  age. 

'  The  summer  of  1775  was  remarkably  fine,  and 
amidst  the  variety  which  marked  it  was  the  appearance 
of  a  Jew,  the  first  of  that  nation  who  had  ever  entered 
our  village.  He  called  himself  Emanuel  Jacob,  and 
carried  about  as  a  show,  enclosed  in  a  glass  case,  that 
plant  of  ancient  memory,  the  mandrake.  It  appeared 
to  combine  the  animal  and  vegetable  in  its  formation, 
and  this  was  really  the  case  ;  for  my  father's  house- 
keeper, when  she  had  the  showman  safely  occupied 
with  his  breakfast,  impelled  by  curiosity,  opened  the 
case,  and  found  the  wondrous  plant  to  be  composed  of 
the  skeleton  of  a  frog  and  fibres  of  the  root  of  a  plant. 
However,  as  it  was  not  her  wish  to  deprive  the  man  of 
his  livelihood,  she  carefully  closed  the  case,  and  permit- 
ted Emanuel  to  proceed  on  his  way,  unconscious  of 
detection. 

Eobert  Baxter,  from  Monaghan,  was  a  parlour 
boarder  at  my  father's  at  this  time.  He  was  but 
sixteen,  yet  was  six  feet  high,  and  lusty  in  proportion. 
His  understanding  seemed  mature  also  ;  it  was  im- 
proved by  classical  learning,  by  refined  society,  and  by 
the  conversation  of  an  excellent  mother.  He  was 
affectionate,  artless,  and  unassuming,  and  we  soon 
loved  him.  He  delighted  in  visiting  my  Aunt  Carle- 
ton,  and  they  entertained  one  another  with  tales  of  for- 
mer times,  hers  drawn  from  her  own  experience,  his 
from  tradition.     One  of  his  anecdotes  was  concerning 


1775-J  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  99 

the  imprisonment  of  Lady  Catlicart  by  her  husband, 
(afterwards  wrought  by  the  able  pen  of  Maria  Edge- 
worth  into  her  tale  of  "Castle  Eackrent.")  He  said 
that  it  was  stipulated  by  that  lady  on  her  marriage, 
that  she  should  never  be  required  to  leave  England  as 
a  residence  ;  but,  by  pretending  that  he  was  only  tak- 
ing her  out  in  a  pleasure-boat  for  a  trip,  her  husband 
conveyed  her  to  Ireland  and  conhned  her  in  his  castle, 
where  he  seldom  visited  her  except  to  force  her  pro- 
perty from  her  by  cruel  and  unmanly  treatment.  She 
managed,  however,  to  conceal  jewels  to  the  amount  of 
several  thousand  pounds,  which  her  brutal  tyrant  could 
not  obtain.  She  entrusted  this  treasure  to  her  attend- 
ant, Kitty  Armstrong,  to  carry  to  a  person  of  the  name 
of  Johnson.  The  death  of  her  husband  at  length 
emancipated  her,  after  years  of  barbarous  usage,  during 
which  she  was  almost  starved,  and  clothed  in  filthy 
tattered  rags.  She  rewarded  her  faithful  friends  by  a 
gift  to  Johnson  of  £2,000,  and  500  guineas  to  her 
trusty  Kate,  and  left  Ireland  for  ever.  Poor  Kitty,  it 
would  appear,  -was  not  so  careful  of  her  OAvn  projDerty 
as  of  that  of  her  lady  ;  for,  after  Lady  Catlicart' s  death, 
she  became  a  dependent  in  the  house  of  Eobert  Bax- 
ter's father ;  and  her  character,  dress,  and  deportment 
made  a  great  impression  on  the  Httle  boy,  especially  as 
she  used  to  chastise  him  freely.  Kitty  wore  a  scarlet 
riding  dress,  a  man's  hat  and  wig,  and  had  a  cat  w^hich 
used  to  catch  snipes  for  her. 

One  violently  tempestuous  night,  in  the  winter  of 
this  year,   the  stage-coach  from  Dublin  to  Cork  was 


lOO  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLTTORE.  [^776- 

overturned  at  the  Sandy-liill,  and  two  of  the  passengers 
were  killed.  One  of  these  was  a  young  woman  who 
was  engaged  to  he  married  to  a  gentleman  in  "Water- 
ford.  He  was  lying  ill  of  fever,  and  requested  to  see 
her,  and  she  was  hastening  to  him  when  arrested  by 
the  hand  of  death.  Her  intended  husband,  from 
whom  the  event  was  concealed,  expected  her  coming 
with  great  anxiety,  and  wondered  at  her  delay.  He 
died  of  the  fever;  let  us  hope  they  were  united  in 
Heaven.  I  did  not  see  the  body — I  could  not  bear 
it — but  I  heard  of  her  beauty,  her  elegant  dress,  her 
slender  form,  and  her  long  fair  hair,  so  lovely  in  death. 
Samuel  Hudson,  another  pupil  of  my  father's,  was 
the  only  surviving  child  of  a  family  of  twenty-five. 
This  boy,  who  was  weak  in  body  and  mind,  was  ex- 
ceedingly dear  to  his  parents ;  but,  alas  !  they  outlived 
him  also.  When  his  father,  a  rich  Connaught  gentle- 
man of  rough  manners,  came  to  see  him  at  school,  the 
boy  ran  blubbering  into  his  presence,  dropped  on  his 
knees,  and  cried  out,  "Your  blessing  father!"  The 
father,  struggimg  with  fond  paternal  emotion,  rephed, 
"  You  have  it,  you  dog."  When  my  parents  were  tra- 
velling in  Connaught  they  accepted  an  invitation  to 
Hudson's  Bay,  the  residence  of  tliis  family.  They  were 
welcomed  with  the  greatest  kindness,  and  entertained 
with  the  utmost  profusion.  The  fond  mother,  when 
walking  with  Ehzabeth  Shackleton  in  a  retired  part  of 
the  demesne,  suddenly  knelt  down,  and  audibly  poured 
forth  her  thanks  to  that  gracious  Providence  who  had 
put  it  into  her  heart  to  place  her  child  under  such  care. 


17 75-]  TH^   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORK.  lOl 

Charles  Coote,  when  about  eight  years  old,  was  sent 
to  Ballitore  school  by  his  father,  Lord  Bellamont, 
whose  natural  son  he  was  reputed  to  be  ;  the  fact 
was  that  he  was  the  offspring  of  a  marriage  with  a 
Eoman  Catholic  young  woman,  which  Lord  Bellamont 
did  not  look  upon  as  legal,  he  being  a  Protestant. 
But  the  lady  being  able  to  show  that  she  had  privately 
read  her  recantation  previous  to  the  marriage,  it  was 
proved  to  be  binding,  and  a  noble  alliance  which  he 
was  on  the  point  of  forming  was  thus  prevented.  In 
revenge  he  chased  from  him  his  beautiful  wife,  whose 
reason  was  subverted  by  the  shock,  and  she  died  miser- 
ably in  Clonmel. 

The  father  of  George  Massey,  another  of  the  pupils, 
was  created  a  peer,  and  as  in  his  letters  to  his  son  he 
addressed  the  little  boy  with  the  title  of  "  Honourable," 
it  afforded  to  the  lad's  schoolfellows  a  source  of  diver- 
sion so  vexatious  to  George,  that  often,  in  bitterness  of 
heart,  he  lamented  the  day  that  his  father  became  a 
lord.  However,  he  had  a  companion  in  his  misfortune 
when  the  young  baronet,  Sir  Eichard  Eyre  Cox,  came 
to  school.  He  was  nephew  to  the  Honourable  George, 
though  much  older ;  and  his  life  came  to  a  melancholy 
conclusion  after  he  left  school.  While  rowing  on  one 
of  his  own  ponds  at  Dunmanway,  in  1783,  his  oar 
broke,  and  he  fell  into  the  water  and  was  drowned. 
Though  not  quite  of  age,  he  left  a  widow  and  an  infant 
daughter. 

There  was  also  a  boy  at  school,  mean  in  sentiments, 
person,  and  manners,  who  had  been  an  indulged  child. 


102  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [r775- 

and  was  possessed  of  a  good  fortune.  One  of  liis  tricks 
was  feigning  to  have  the  ague,  in  order  that  he  might 
partake  of  the  indulgences  provided  for  some  of  the 
boys  who  really  had  it.  But  by  overacting  his  part 
he  incurred  suspicion,  for  his  shaking  fits  were  so  vio- 
lent as  to  affect  the  whole  room,  and  led  the  nurse- 
tender  to  endeavour  to  examine  his  nails  for  the 
blackness  which  precedes  the  shaking  fit ;  but  he 
firmly  opposed  her  attempt.  However,  as  deception 
could  not  be  positively  proved,  his  desire  to  partake  of 
the  comforts  of  the  nursery  was  answered,  and  he 
might  have  fully  enjoyed  his  success,  had  not  the  arri- 
val of  "Molly  Ass"  been  announced.  Molly  was  a 
hawker,  and  she  possessed  an  ass  which  the  boys 
hired  of  her  to  ride  whenever  she  came ;  and  this  lad 
took  particular  pleasure  in  the  amusement.  On  hear- 
ing the  unexpected  news,  the  gratification  of  his  pre- 
sent situation  faded  before  the  recollection  of  the  active 
enjoyment  he  should  have  had  if  it  had  not  been  for  his 
deceitful  conduct,  and  he  exclaimed  in  pathetic  accents, 
"Oh!  murder!  and  I  sick!"  "Molly  Ass"  afforded 
us  another  joke.  When  addressing  my  sister  Sally  and 
me  one  day,  she  made  use  of  the  pronoun  "  thee"  to  one 
of  us.  IS"ow  Sally  was  a  very  well-disposed  child,  and 
laid  great  stress  on  adhering  to  the  plain  language ; 
therefore,  calling  me  aside,  she  whispered,  "  Molly 
Ass  is  convinced."   [i.  e.  of  Friends'  principles.] 

To  return  to  the  delinquent  of  the  nursery  :  a  fall 
from  an  apple-tree,  while  robbing  Taylor's  orchard, 
dislocated  his  shoulder,  and  the  bone-setter  was  sent 


1 7  75-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  103 

for.  During  the  operation  my  sister  and  I,  thoiigli  at 
the  most  remote  part  of  that  large  house,  thrust  our 
heads  up  the  chimney  to  avoid  hearing  the  cries  of  the 
sufferer,  and  the  equally  loud  sympathetic  cries  of  Tom 
Eyre,  who  sat  by  during  the  operation.  A  second  con- 
finement to  the  nursery  was  the  consequence,  where 
if  he  endured  more  suffering  than  during  his  former 
one,  he  also  received  more  compassion.  Ere  his  hurt 
had  perfectly  healed,  he  again  dislocated  his  shoulder, 
whilst  breaking  open  the  box  of  one  of  his  schoolfel- 
lows to  steal  a  crown  out  of  it.  This  was  not  his  first 
robbery,  for  on  a  former  occasion  he  stole  sixpence 
out  of  the  pocket  of  our  bhnd  cousin,  Joseph  Thomp- 
son, while  he  slept.  He  was  finally  expelled  from  the 
school,  and  finished  his  career  in  a  state  of  abject 
beggary. 

But  the  darling  of  the  house  was  Aldworth  Phaire, 
whom  his  father.  Colonel  Phaire,  brought  hither  at  five 
years  of  age.  My  sister  received  him  in  my  mother's 
absence,  and,  surprised  at  his  youth,  untliinkiugly 
asked  was  his  mother  dead.  "  She  is  dead  to  him," 
said  the  distressed  father.  Soon  afterwards  we  lieard 
that  his  mother,  a  woman  of  rank  and  beauty,  the  wife 
of  an  affectionate  husband  and  the  mother  of  a  lovely 
family,  had  basely  deserted  them.  The  little  creature 
woiuid  liimself  into  our  hearts  in  such  a  manner,  and 
became  such  a  plaything,  that  when  his  father  removed 
him  it  was  a  serious  affliction  to  us.  The  usher  met 
him  afterwards,  and  Aldworth  clung  about  his  knees, 
and  could  hardly  be  separated  from  him,  and,  showing 


104  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE-       \,^111- 

his  old  hat,  said  with  a  mixture  of  shyness  and  regret, 
"  I  got  this  in  Ballitore."  Years  rolled  on.  Our  dar- 
ling boy  entered  the  army,  and  at  length  we  received 
word  from  his  brother.  Colonel  Phaire,  that  he  had 
died  in  the  "West  Indies. 

In  1776,  my  sister  Margaret  was  united  in  marriage 
to  Samuel  Grubb  of  Clonmel.  A  wedding  was  a  novel 
scene  to  us,  and  the  preparations  occasioned  no  small 
bustle.  Our  lovely  sister  Avas  removed  from  us  to  a 
great  distance,  and  we  sadly  missed  her  engaging  soci- 
ety ;  but  the  happiness  of  her  situation  and  the  acqui- 
sition of  many  valuable  connections  compensated  for 
the  separation.  Other  weddings  followed,  and  many 
events  occurred  full  of  importance  at  the  time,  but 
now  too  trivial  to  record.  My  happy  and  careless 
childhood  had  advanced  into  gentle  and  timid  girlhood, 
and  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  proceed  much  further  on 
my  path  through  life  without  being  aroused  from  my 
peaceful  dreams  by  some  stroke  of  fate. 

On  the  7th  of  Fifth-month,  1777,  William  Lead- 
beater  came  to  school.  His  brother-indaw  and  guar- 
dian, an  episcopal  clergyman,  and  his  neighbour,  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eome,  accompanied  him 
hither.  That  these  men  lived  not  only  in  good  neigh- 
bourhood but  in  sincere  friendship  was  matter  of  won- 
der to  some  ;  while  others  saw  no  reason  why  a  differ- 
ence of  religious  sentiments  should  prevent  hberal 
minds  from  assimilating.  The  orphan  boy  whom  they 
introduced  possessed  dispositions  calculated  to  gain  the 
good- will  of  that  family  of  which  he  now  forms  a  part. 


J77o.|        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I05 

Charles  Eawdon  came  at  the  same  time,  and  they 
early  became  close  companions.  Both  were  amiable, 
and  virtue  perhaps  appeared  more  engaging  in  their 
beautiful  forms,  for  both  were  remarkably  handsome. 

Early  in  the  year  1778,  there  was  a  tremendous 
thunder  storm.  It  came  in  the  dead  time  of  a  long, 
dark  night ;  and  I,  who  was  awakened  by  one  terrible 
clap  of  thunder,  fully  expected  that  the  next  would 
destroy  me.  The  school-boys  all  got  up  to  pray.  The 
storm  subsided  at  length ;  but  the  whole  of  the  next 
day  our  agitated  spirits  dwelt  in  the  midst  of  trembling 
alarm.  Alas  '  before  the  close  of  the  year  came  ano- 
ther storm  of  a  different  nature,  the  effects  of  which 
were  far  more  lasting  and  far  more  distressing.  My 
beloved  Aunt  Carleton  died.  I  cannot  describe  the 
anguish  of  that  separation.  My  friends  pitied  me,  and 
strove  to  console  me  by  suggesting  the  aids  of  good 
sense  and  philosophy ;  but,  alas,  had  I  possessed  either 
of  these  resources,  they  w^ould  have  been  of  no  avail, 
for  my  whole  soul  was  overwhelmed  with  affliction. 
My  only  comforts  were  the  conviction  that  I  had  never 
knowingly  given  her  pain,  and  the  certainty  that  for 
her  awaited  the  blessed  welcome,  "Well  done,  thou 
"  good  and  faithful  servant ;  enter  thou  into  the  joy 
"  of  thy  Lord ;"  for  I  believe  her  "  prayers  and  her 
'*  alms-deeds  had  risen  up  for  a  memorial  before  her." 
But  she  had  left  me  for  ever  in  this  world — my  dearest 
parent ;  for  was  I  not  to  her  a  child,  a  darling  child '? 

My  deep  dejection  affected  my  health  so  seriously, 
that   it   was   feared   I   might   go   into   a  dechne  and 


Io6  THE    ANNALS   OP    BALLITORE.  [^77^- 

quickly  follow  her.  I  was  ordered  to  ride  on  horse- 
back, and  was  afterwards  sent  on  a  visit  to  my  sister  in 
Clonmel.  There  I  visited  the  churchyard  where  lay 
the  partial  and  faithful  friend  of  my  childhood,  Aid- 
borough  Wrightson.  No  stone  marked  the  spot  where 
he  lay,  and  when  a  grave  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  his, 
I  stood  beside  it  without  emotion.  The  sexton  now 
came  up,  and  telling  us  our  guide  had  made  a  mistake, 
took  us  to  another  grave,  which  I  felt  certain  contained 
the  beloved  remains,  for  my  heart  suddenly  swelled, 
and  my  tears  began  to  overflow.  Tears  which  did 
more  honour  to  his  memory  than  mine  have  been  shed 
there.  His  old  master  has  wept  and  sobbed  in  unavail- 
ing sorrow  over  this  interesting  spot,  where,  at  my 
entreaties,  a  weeping  willow  was  planted. 

Our  neighbour,  John  Forbes,  a  clergyman,  after  a 
residence  of  about  two  years  in  our  village,  took  ill 
of  a  fever  in  Dublin.  His  wife  attended  him  with 
anxious  care,  but  he  died.  She  remained  in  Balli- 
tore  only  long  enough  to  settle  his  affairs,  and  then 
took  her  two  little  girls,  Arabella  and  Emily,  with  her 
to  Dublin,  where  Arabella  and  I  sometimes  met  with 
mutual  delight,  and  continued  a  correspondence  for 
many  years.  Emily  was  advantageously  married  at 
the  age  of  eighteen  to  a  young  clergyman  in  the 
county  of  Tyrone.  Arabella  lived  with  her  mother, 
who  died  in  the  year  1786.  I  then  saw  my  friend  in 
her  mourning  attire,  and  I  never  saw  her  since.  About 
two  years  afterwards  our  correspondence  dropped,  yet 
I  trust  we  still  loved  each  other,   and  I  heard  with 


1778.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  IO7 

pleasure  of  her  marriage  with  a  gentleman  named 
Harman.  In  1795  her  husband  was  attacked  in  his 
house  by  armed  robbers,  against  whom  he  made  a 
resolute  resistance,  his  wife  standing  by  his  side  charg- 
ing his  pistols  ;  but  the  banditti  succeeded  in  robbing 
and  mortally  wounding  liim.  On  their  quitting  the 
house,  his  wife  laid  him  on  a  bed,  and  ran  across  fields 
and  over  hedges  to  alarm  the  neighbours,  for  their 
servants  did  not  act  so  as  to  inspire  confidence.  When 
she  returned  she  found  her  husband  making  his  will, 
by  which  he  left  her  an  ample  fortune.  He  died  in 
a  few  days.  My  heart  yearned  towards  the  afflicted 
widow,  when  I  learned  that  she  was  my  early  friend 
Arabella.  However,  as  she  then  moved  in  a  higher 
sphere  of  life  than  when  our  correspondence  ceased,  I 
was  obliged  to  suppress  my  feelings,  which  would  have 
led  me  to  endeavour  to  express  to  her  my  sympathy 
for  her  loss. 

Our  landlord,  John  Bayley,  who  became  possessed 
of  Abel  Stretteirs  part  of  Ballitore  on  marrying  the 
heiress,  and  whose  three  sons,  as  well  as  himself,  had 
been  educated  here,  now  sent  the  youngest  as  a  parlour  • 
boarder,  to  gain  a  little  more  learning.  He  was  a  tall, 
comely  lad  of  seventeen,  very  goodnatured,  and  sensible 
of  the  slowness  of  his  capacity.  He  requested  that 
my  sister  ^largaret  would  allow  him  to  read  Leland's 
History  of  Ireland  to  her  in  the  winter  evenings,  and 
that  she  would  set  him  right  when  he  miscalled  any 
of  the  words;  "for,"  said  he,  "I  believe  I  coin  more 
words  than  Johnson."      However,   at  the  Mill-house 


Io8  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^7/9- 

he  was  sure  of  not  being  laughed  at,  and  many  a 
cold  winter's  night  he  undertook  that  long  walk  and 
hopeless  labour.  Though  sometimes  stung  by  the 
derogatory  remarks  of  his  schoolfellows,  he  did  not 
deserve  their  contempt.  As  Tom  Eyre  (who  was 
much  his  inferior  in  age  and  size),  Bob  Bayley,  and 
I  were  walking  through  the  Mill-field,  a  dispute  arose 
between  the  lads.  "  As  for  you,"  said  Tom,  in  wrath, 
"  you  are  a  blockhead."  "  I  know  I  am,"  replied  Bob, 
^'  but  it  does  not  become  you  to  tell  me  so." 

On  the  22nd  of  Twelfth-month,  1778,  in  anticipation 
of  my  brother's  marriage,  my  father,  mother,  and  I  left 
the  house  which  they  had  occupied  above  twenty  years, 
to  sleep  at  the  Eetreat,  still  to  diet  at  the  school.  That 
night,  when  the  master  and  mistress  left  their  old  habi- 
tation, afforded  a  scene  of  mourning.  The  servants  were 
bathed  in  tears.  Sally  Wood  locked  herself  up  in  the 
pantry,  and  Moll  Whelan's  noisy  lamentations  were 
heard  all  over  the  house.  Poor  Moll  soon  after  this 
grew  extremely  ill,  and  every  evening  lost  the  use  of 
her  limbs.  At  length  she  seemed  to  be  expiring ;  she 
had  the  family  about  her,  sent  her  love  to  my  father 
who  was  then  from  home,  asked  forgiveness  of  those 
whom  she  had  offended,  and  declared  to  my  mother 
that  she  had  never  wronged  her,  but  of  her  time.  She, 
however,  recovered,  went  to  her  sister's  to  recruit  her 
strength,  and  lived  to  become  Moll  Casey,  a  well-known 
retailer  of  aj)ples,  gingerbread,  and  similar  delicacies  to 
the  schoolboys. 

The  23rd  of  Second-month,  1779,  Abraham  Shackle- 


1779- J  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  JOp 

ton  and  Lyclia  ^Mellor  were  married  in  Meath-street 
meeting-house,  Dublin  ;  the  house  of  her  friend  Mary 
Pemberton  being  the  temporary  home  of  the  bride. 
Our  new  sister,  now  the  young  mistress,  graced  the 
old  mansion  ;  the  lightness  of  her  form  and  the  beauty 
of  her  "mind-illumined  face"  attracted  universal  ad- 
miration, and  her  unwearied  and  animated  benevolence 
excited  proportionate   affection.      The  filial  love  and 
respect  with  which  she  treated  her  husbancVs  parents, 
her  kind  attention  to  all  his  relations,  her  sedulous  and 
conscientious  care  of  liis  pupils,  her  excellent  example 
as  a  wife  and  mother,  could  not  have  been  so  uniformly 
sustained  merely  by  her  strict  sense  of  propriety  ;  her 
integrity  of  heart  and  strong  rehgious   feeling   were 
surer  guides.     Her  manners  were  a  style  above  village 
simphcity,  although  perfectly  easy  and  natural;   and 
her  native  dignity  caused  her  in  some  degree  to  incur 
the  censure  of  "height,"  which  had  been  attached  to 
my  grandmother  Carleton.     Bred  in  the  to^v^l  of  Man- 
chester, accustomed  from  infancy  to  the  refinements  of 
good  breeding,  trained  by  a  mother  as  accomplished  as 
she  was  amiable,  our  sister  was  born  a  gentlewoman, 
and  the  neighbours  were  willing,  on  these  considera- 
tions, to  excuse  the  young  mistress ;  especially  as  no 
consequential  aii^s,  no  consciousness  of  superiority,  or 
any   want   of  consideration   to   inferiors   marked   her 
conduct,  and  she  was  of  all  people  one  of  the  most  free 
from  detraction,   or  making   lessening   remarks   upon 
others.     Though  ever  perfectly  neat,  her  dress  by  de- 
grees became  more  conformed  to  our  ideas  of  simplicity. 


I  lO  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  LJ[779' 

An  anecdote  presents  itself  as  not  quite  malapropos. 
I  dyed  a  cloak  for  sister  Lydia,  and,  to  my  no  small 
mortification,  completely  spoiled  it.  I  was  certain  of 
receiving  no  rebuke,  but  was  greatly  surprised  the  next 
meeting-day  to  see  her  walk  into  meeting  with  this 
cloak  on  her  shoulders.  Concerned  as  I  was  to  see 
her  dressed  so  unbecomingly,  I  felt  the  delicacy  of  the 
compliment  to  my  good  intentions,  and  her  endeavour 
to  reconcile  me  to  my  blunder. 

Her  sister,  Mary  Mellor,  was  a  very  acceptable 
addition  to  our  little  circle.  She  was  lively,  well- 
informed,  clever,  good-humoured,  and  handsome.  We 
rejoiced  in  our  acquisitions,  and  our  late  sore  afOiction 
was  softened  into  a  tender  regret.  Our  time  was  now 
for  a  while  devoted  to  paying  and  receiving  visits,  and 
it  was  in  the  midst  of  this  blameless  festivity  that  an 
express  arrived  from  Kilkenny,  with  the  tidings  of 
William  Colles's  death.  This  amiable  and  worthy 
young  man  had  been  educated  at  Ballitore  school ;  he 
was  much  attached  to  the  family,  and  to  our  society, 
and,  by  little  and  little,  had  assumed  the  garb  and 
manners  of  a  Quaker.  "How  does  thy  wife  take  it  ?" 
enquired  my  father.  "  Very  badly,  master,"  said  he  ; 
"  she  weeps."  This  touched  his  heart  more  than  com- 
plaints or  reproaches  would  have  done.  His  unexpected 
death  by  fever  in  the  prime  of  life  w^as  a  great  shock  to 
his  family  and  friends,  and  was  rendered  still  more 
touching  to  us  by  his  request  to  be  interred  in  our 
graveyard  in  our  manner.  Tliither  his  remains  were 
brought  from  Kilkenny,  and  his  sorrowing  master  and 


1 7  79-]  '^^^    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  Ill 

mistress,  whom  he  loved  so  well,  attended  them  to  the 
grave.* 

My  parents  and  their  three  daughters  were  now  set- 
tled at  the  Eetreat,  a  pleasant  mansion.  My  mother 
delighted  in  her  garden,  which  she  kept  in  neat  order. 
Her  collection  of  exotics  was  curious  and  afforded  much 
variety.  She  had  no  greenhouse,  but  kept  those 
tender  plants  in  the  house,  and  the  soft  perfume  of 
some  of  them  was  very  grateful.  My  father,  released 
from  the  cares  he  had  so  long  felt,  yet  still  active  in 
body  and  mind,  employed  himself  in  writing,  and 
walking  about  the  village  on  visits  to  his  neighbours, 
especially  when  leaving  home  or  returning  to  it.  In  liis 
absence  they  felt  a  want,  and  the  old  master's  return 
was  welcomed  by  all  ranks.  He  now  devoted  more  of 
his  time  than  he  had  yet  done  to  the  service  of  his  own 
religious  society,  in  which  his  zeal  to  support  good 
order  was  strengthened  by  that  love  which  unites 
in  the  bond  of  peace.  His  true  helpmate,  when  not 
engaged — as  she  often  was — in  like  labours  of  love, 
managed  their  temporal  affairs  with  that  prudence, 
forecast,  and  liberality  for  Avhich  she  was  remarkable. 

On  the  28th  of  Eleventh-month,  1779,  young  Eich- 
ard  Shackleton  was  born.  The  delighted  grandfather 
welcomed  the  arrival  of  the  little  stranger  by  exercising 
on  the  occasion  his  poetical  talent.  Of  this  he  had  a 
considerable  share,  but  he  did  not  make  it  his  study ; 

*  William  Colles  was  the  proprietor  of  the  marble  mills  at 
Kilkenny. 


112  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^779- 

he  devoted  liis  care  to  the  higher  endowments  of  the 
mind,  and  kept  poetry  in  that  subordinate  station, 
befittinsf  those  relaxations  which  it  is  allowable  occa- 
sionally  to  indulge  in.  When  I  have  heard  the  muse's 
lyre  condemned  as  vain  and  idle,  I  have  thought  of  the 
gentle  remonstrance  of  Paris  to  Hector,  when  upbraided 
by  him  with  setting  too  much  value  on  external  accom- 
plishments. The  polite  Phrygian  acknowledges  the 
superior  qualifications  of  his  brother,  yet  entreats  Imn 
not  to  despise  the  softer  graces,  for 

"  No  gifts  can  gain  them,  but  the  gods  bestow  !" 

The  following  are  the  lines  which  my  father  penned 
on  the  birth  of  his  grandson  and  namesake  : — 

Welcome  be  the  lovely  boy, 
His  fond  parents'  hope  and  joy  ! 
By  thy  birth  what  tender  ties 
All  in  social  order  rise  ! 
To  the  names  of  husband,  wife, 
Dearest  in  domestic  life, 
Thou  hast  added  all  these  other 
Names  of  grandsire,  father,  mother, 
Aunts  and  nephews — ties  that  bind 
In  close  union  humankind. 
Welcome,  beauteous  babe  !     For  thee 
Hath  old  age,  with  tott'ring  knee, 
Wand' ring  in  the  muse's  bowers. 
Stooped  to  cull  the  fairest  flowers. 
And,  with  trembling  hand,  e'en  now 
Weaves  a  garland  for  thy  brow. 

Welcome  thrice,  my  darling  child  ! 
Sure  propitious  Heaven  has  smiled 


I  7  79-]  T^^   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  I  I3 

On  thy  birth ;  for  ev'ry  grace 
Marks  the  featui'es  of  thy  face, 
Where  we  both  thy  parents  find — 
Ease  and  dignity  combin'd. 

Sweetest  infant,  since  thou  art 
Sent  to  act  in  life  a  part, 
While  of  yet  unconscious  age, 
Ere  thou  tread  the  public  stage, 
Sunk  in  bakny  slumbers,  rest 
On  thy  mother's  fragrant  breast, 
While  thy  grandsire  comes  to  shed 
His  best  blessings  on  thy  head  ! 

God — before  whose  awful  sight 
Thy  forefathers  walk'd  aright, 
By  His  hand  aU-powerful  led. 
By  His  gracious  bounty  fed, 
And  His  guardian  angel  still 
Watching  to  preserve  from  ill — 
Bless  the  lad  !     And  may  the  name. 
Better  than  aU  worldly  fame. 
Sacred  name,  wliich  qualifies 
For  admission  to  the  skies, 
That  new  name,  0  Richard,  be 
Nam^d  evermore  on  thee  !  * 

*  The  second  Richard  Shackleton,  the  subject  of  these  verses, 
spent  the  whole  of  his  long  life,  with  brief  intervals,  in  his  native 
village,  where  he  died  in  the  summer  of  i860,  in  the  eighty-first 
year  of  his  age.  A  devoted  student  of  four  great  poets,  to  whose 
chefs-d'oeuvre  he  chiefly  confined  his  studies,  his  friend  George 
Downes  on  one  occasion  addressed  him  thus  :  "  Richard,  you 
"  know  VirgU,  but  you  don't  know  Latin ;  you  know  Ariosto, 
"  but  you  don't  know  Italian  ;  you  know  La  Fontaine,  but  you 
"  don't  know  French  ;  and  you  know  Milton,  but  you  don't 
"  know  English." 


114  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1780. 

^lolly  Hudson,  having  lost  some  property  in  her 
Ijrother's  house,  which  was  destroj^ed  by  an  accidental 
fire,  was  invited  to  my  father's  till  the  house  should 
be  rebuilt,  and  she  spent  twenty  years  in  the  family, 
endearing  herself  by  her  inoffensive  manners,  and  par- 
ticularly to  me  by  her  kind  attention  to  me  in  a 
dangerous  fever  which  I  had  in  Dublin.  My  mother 
came  to  me  there,  as  did  my  sister  Debby,  whom  of 
all  the  family  I  longed  most  to  see,  and  of  whose 
tenderness  I  partook  largely,  for  she  was  one  of  the 
most  affectionate  of  nurses.  I  was  treated  by  our 
valued  friends,  Joseph  and  Elizabeth  Pike,  at  whose 
house  I  was,  in  such  a  manner  as  claimed  and  excited 
strong  emotions  of  gratitude.  Though  from  home,  the 
news  of  our  own  neighbourhood  reached  me,  and  an 
adventure  which  happened  in  Athy  gave  me  much 
satisfaction.  A  young  man  was  sentenced  to  die,  for 
being  an  accomplice  in  a  crime.  His  mother  im2:)lored 
the  Duke  of  Leinster,  and  in  the  simple  eloquence  of 
despair,  gave  him  titles  enough — "  Duke  of  Leinster, 
Duke  of  Ireland,  Duke  of  the  World,  save  my  son  !" 
In  vain  did  a  mother's  pleadings  attempt  to  stay 
the  iron  hand  of  justice  :  the  day  appointed  for  the 
execution  arrived,  and  the  duke,  at  the  head  of  his 
corps  of  volunteers,  escorted  the  convict  towards  the 
gallows  ;  but  just  as  they  drew  near  the  turnpike-gate, 
a  number  of  men  who  had  mingled  with  the  crowd, 
disguised  in  women's  clothes,  attacked  the  duke's  mar- 
tial party  with  a  volley  of  stones,  and  discomfited 
them.      The   brother   of  the    condemned   man,    then 


I /So.]  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  II5 

taking  him  in  his  arms,  threw  the  trembling  culprit 
over  the  wall  on  the  right  hand  side  within  the  gate, 
and  effected  his  escape — an  event  wliich  it  is  probable 
the  many-titled  duke,  who  possessed  great  goodnature, 
did  not  regret.  It  must  be  a  severe  trial  to  a  feeling 
mind  to  take  an  active  part  on  those  occasions  which 
doom  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature  to  be  sacrificed. 

The  son  of  Lord  Chancellor  Hewit  had  to  pass  sen- 
tence of  death  at  the  assizes  of  Maryborough.     Thomas 
Chandlee  was  present;    he  heard   the  judge,    with  a 
faltering  voice,  announce  to  the  prisoner,  also  a  man 
gifted  by  the  Creator  of  man  with  health  and  strength 
and  life,   the  day  on   wliich  he  was  to  be  deprived 
of  these  by  the  laws  of  his  fellow-men.      Justice  or 
law  demanded  this  :    humanity  claimed  her  right  also. 
After  he  had  pronounced  the  fatal  sentence,  the  judge 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and,  leanmg  on  the 
table,  burst  into  such  a  passion  of  tears  as  obliged  him 
to  retire,  and  incapacitated  him  from  attending  to  any 
more  business  for  that  day.      It  is  probable  that  he 
also,  when  this  felon  escaped  by  breaking  his  chains, 
felt  his  mind  relieved  ;  yet  justice  and  humanity  must 
unite  in  lamenting  that  there  is  so  seldom  an  alter- 
native between  the  punishment  of  death  and  liberty 
for  the  disturbance  of  peaceful  society.     Why  are  not 
our  laws  improved  by  enacting  such  chastisements  as 
man  has  a  right  to  inflict  1   for  certain  it  is,  he  has 
not  a  right  to  inflict  death.     This  day  may  come,  for 
I  hope  the  world  in   general  is  not  growing   worse, 
and  humanity  follows  the  footsteps  of  civilization. 


Il6  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLTTORE,  [1782. 

Tlie  26tli  of  tlie  Tentli-month,  1780,  was  the  wed- 
ding-day of  Thomas  Chandlee  and  our  sister  Deborah 
Shackleton,  and  on  the  next  day  they  went  home  to 
Athy.  Although  united  to  one  so  much  beloved  and 
esteemed  by  us,  we  felt  the  loss  of  our  dear,  kind- 
hearted  sister.  Our  domestic  circle  had  also  another 
loss  to  regret.  William  Eayner  left  Balhtore  on  the 
2nd  of  Tenth-month  for  Waterford,  where  he  became 
clerk  to  George  and  William  Penrose.  It  was  to  me 
like  parting  a  brother  of  whom  I  might  say  with  per- 
fect truth, — 

In  infancy  our  hopes  and  fears 

Were  to  each  other  knowoi, 
And  friendship  in  our  riper  years 

Combined  our  hearts  in  one. 

I  followed  and  he  returned  several  times  to  repeat  the 
last  farewell.  I  think  we  neither  spoke  nor  wept,  but 
our  hearts  were  full. 

My  brother's  young  family  were  now  rising  around 
him,  and  formed  one  of  the  delights  of  their  grand- 
father. Frequent  during  the  day  were  his  \asits  to  the 
little  flock  who  gathered  round  his  knees,  while  he 
often  held  the  youngest  before  him  in  the  reading-chair 
which  he  sat  in,  repeating  Greek  verses,  whose  sonorous 
musical  sound  seemed  very  grateful  to  the  infant '  ear. 
He  often  read  to  us  while  we  sat  at  our  work,  especi- 
ally when  a  new  poem  was  jDresented  to  the  public  ; 
his  remarks  heightened  the  interest  of  what  he  read, 
and  formed  our  tastes  and  judgment. 

Pleasant  and  engagmg  as  was  my  father  to  young 


1782.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  II7 

and  old,  cordial  and  sympatliising  as  was  my  mother, 
their  truly  religious  characters  inspired  a  sentiment 
approaching  to  awe,  though  they  were  beloved  more 
than  feared.  Those  who  were  so  much  in  the  habit  of 
swearing  as  to  swear  almost  involuntarily,  restrained 
themselves  in  their  presence,  and  others  w^ho  were 
sensible  of  deserving  their  reproof  shunned  it.  They 
governed  their  household  with  firm  yet  gentle  sway, 
and  around  the  supper-table  the  housekeeper,  the  ushers 
and  other  assistants  in  the  school,  enjoyed  their  society 
with  confidence  in  their  paternal  kindness.  My  mother 
spoke  of  her  deceased  children  with  an  exjDression  of 
satisfaction  at  their  early  escape  from  a  world  of  danger ; 
my  father  did  not  like  to  mention  them,  and  seemed 
smarting  with  the  pain  of  regret  when  the  subject  was 
introduced  ;  yet  both  were  equally  tender  parents.  If 
either  of  them  remarked  the  absence  of  any  of  our 
members  from  meeting,  a  visit  of  inquiry  was  pretty 
certain  to  follow,  on  the  supposition  that  illness  must 
have  been  the  cause,  for  no  other  jDretext  was  regarded 
as  a  sufficient  excuse  for  neglecting  this  duty. 

Those  who  live  in  the  country  and  go  little  from 
home  are  apt  to  be  tenaciously  attached  to  their  OAvn 
opinions.  The  humility  of  our  parents  preserved  them 
from  this  error,  their  intercourse  with  polished  and 
literary  society  tending  to  enlarge  the  mind.  Still 
there  was  a  degree  of  singularity  in  our  education,  in 
consequence  of  our  ignorance  of  the  manners  of  the 
world,  the  simplicity  of  our  profession,  and  our  situ- 
ation in  a  retired  village  ;  for  though  our  parents  en- 


Il8  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLTTORE.  [1782. 

couraged  no  confined  ideawS  in  us,  and  taught  us  a 
courteous  demeanor  by  example  and  precept,  yet  in 
the  cautious  observance  of  truth  wc  forbore  to  disguise 
our  sentiments  of  any  kind,  and  I  think  were  too  little 
skilled  in  the  rules  of  good-breeding,  that  charming 
accomplishment,  which,  whilst  compatible  with  sincer- 
ity, teaches  young  people,  I  will  not  say  to  disguise, 
but  to  suppress  their  sentiments,  and  is  in  fact  a  virtu- 
ous self-denial ;  for  if  the  expression  of  one's  opinions 
will  do  no  good,  but,  on  the  contrary,  inflict  pain,  they 
should  be  suppressed,  be  they  ever  so  blameless. 

It  was  not  while  in  the  circles  of  his  distant  friends 
or  acquaintances,  engaging  their  admiration,  love,  and 
esteem  by  his  superior  talents,  fascinating  manners, 
delightful  converse,  and  exalted  virtue,  that  my  dear 
father  shone  most ;  it  was  by  his  own  fireside  that  his 
sweetness  of  temper,  his  vivacity,  and  his  unaffected 
piety  beamed  brightest.  He  loved  to  take  us  to  ride  or 
walk  with  him,  he  made  his  children  liis  companions 
and  his  confidants  ;  he  generally  showed  us  the  letters 
he  wrote  and  received,  and  he  expected  the  like  confi- 
dence from  us.  This  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  correct 
our  style  and  handwriting,  to  judge  of  the  characters  of 
our  correspondents,  and  to  encourage  or  discourage  the 
friendships  we  were  about  to  form.  He  disliked  the 
canting  manner  of  some  young  persons  in  dealing  with 
religious  subjects,  of  which  he  suspected  they  knew 
little  ;  and  though  he  was  a  nursing  father  to  what  was 
good,  he  desired  not  to  hear  the  awful  theme  of  religion 
introduced  without  a  deep  sense  of  its  importance. 


1782.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  Tip 

As  long  as  I  can  remember,  it  was  my  fatliers 
practice  to  retire,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  either  to  his 
garden  or  to  his  chamber,  where  I  have  no  doubt  he 
wrestled  for  a  blessing,  his  countenance  when  he  returned 
to  his  family  betraying  with  whom  he  had  been.  He 
lay  down  to  rest  sweetly,  and  if  he  was  in  any  difficulty, 
the  first  thoughts  which  occurred  in  the  morning  were 
generally  those  to  which  he  took  heed,  and  by  which 
he  was  delivered  from  what  annoyed  him.  Indeed  he 
was  remarkable  for  casting  his  care  upon  Providence, 
even  in  cases  which  might  be  accounted  trivial.  Few 
had  a  higher  rehsh  for  polished  and  literary  society ; 
yet,  being  as  humble  as  he  was  accomplished,  he  en- 
joyed with  equal  relish  the  society  of  those  who, 
though  neither  polished  nor  literary,  were  ennobled  by 
virtue.  He  had  the  manners  of  a  gentlemen  without 
departing  from  the  strictness  of  liis  o^^^l  profession,  and 
these  manners  were  marked  by  a  degree  of  simplicity 
which  derogated  nothing  from  the  dignity  of  his  cha- 
racter. I  have  frequently  applied  to  him  the  following 
lines  : — 

And  such  a  man  was  he 

As  Heaven  just  gives  to  human  sight. 

To  show  what  man  should  be. 

On  the  publication  of  Leland's  History  of  Ireland, 
my  father  received  a  letter  as  if  from  the  autlior, 
requesting  his  opinion  of  the  work,  but  written  in  a 
style  which  conveyed  no  high  opinion  of  the  abilities 
of  the  historian.  It  was,  however,  politely  answered  ; 
he  disclaimed  any  pretensions  to  critical  judgment  ;  lie 


I20  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1782. 

said  he  was  no  prophet,  nor  a  prophet's  son,  but  if  the 
author  mshed  for  his  opinion  he  was  wilHng  to  gi\'e  it. 
Dr.  Leland  promptly  answered  this  letter,  assuring 
my  father  that  he  knew  nothing  of  that  which  had 
been  written  in  his  name,  nor  could  he  imagine  who  it 
was  that  had  been  guilty  of  offering  this  unprovoked 
insult  to  them  both ;  but,  whoever  he  was,  he  held 
himself  under  an  obligation  to  him,  as  having  been  the 
means  of  introducing  him  to  such  an  acquaintance. 
The  letter  concluded  with  repeating  a  wish  for  my 
father's  opinion  of  his  work,  and  requesting  that  if  he 
thought  it  worth  his  acceptance,  he  would  not  return 
the  volumes  he  sent  him.  Thus  a  wanton  joke  upon 
two  respectable  men  ended  in  creating  mutual  esteem. 
My  father  attentively  read  the  work,  and  candidly  gave 
his  opinion,  which  was  very  favourable,  though  he  cen- 
sured some  misrepresentations  of  our  Society  which  it 
contained.  Dr.  Leland  took  his  remarks  and  sugges- 
tions in  good  part,  and  promised  to  attend  to  them  in 
a  future  edition. 

My  mother  had  some  years  previously  written  to 
Da\dd  Hume,  who  calls  Friends  "  deists"  in  his  Essays, 
and  "enthusiasts"  in  his  History  of  England.  She 
received  a  re-plj  from  him,  which  though  polite  was  not 
satisfactory,  as  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  complimented 
us  by  the  former  appellation,  as  classing  us  with  those 
who  had  shaken  off  the  dominion  of  priests. 

My  mother  with  her  excellent  understanding  had  an 
innocence  and  simphcity  in  her  mind  and  manners 
which  softened  the  awe  inspired  by  her  gravity.     It 


1/82.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  12  1 

was  very  pleasant  to  read  history  to  her ;  her  memory 
was  very  good,  she  did  not  lose  the  thread  of  the  narra- 
tive, nor  did  she  suffer  us  to  lose  it.  She  entered  into 
the  characters  which  the  historian  introduced,  and 
almost  detested  Augustus  Caesar.  She  could  not  think 
otherwise  of  Caligula,  than  that  the  fever  he  had  before 
he  came  to  the  throne  had  affected  his  brain,  and  had 
caused  the  great  alteration  in  his  conduct.  She  said 
Seneca  had  acted  unfaithfully  in  not  having  restrained 
the  excesses  of  Nero's  youth  ;  the  consequences  were 
Nero's  vileness  and  the  murder  of  his  tutor.  She  liked 
to  read  only  what  was  true  ;  and  her  faith  in  the  story 
that  Captain  Donnellan  had  poisoned  his  brother-in- 
law,  Sir  Theodosius  Boughton,  cost  us  all  our  laurel- 
water.  I  beheld  my  mother  quietly  emptying  bottle 
after  bottle  into  a  ditch,  nor  were  we  again  permitted 
any  more  of  that  culinary  ingredient  once  held  in  such 
high  estimation. 

My  father  was  generally  an  accurate  judge  of  poetry  ; 
although  his  partiality  led  him  to  value  mine,  especially 
when  I  was  a  child.  Of  his  own  talents  and  accom- 
plishments he  had  too  much  good  sense  to  be  vain,  and 
yet  I  do  think  he  was  vain  of  the  rhymes  of  his  Kttle 
daughter.  My  mother,  ever  Avatchful  and  careful, 
often  expressed  her  justly  grounded  fear  that  my  mind 
was  too  much  engrossed  by  this  propensity  ;  but  my 
respect  for  her  prevented  me  from  reminding  her  of 
the  engrossing  delight  she  took  in  cultivating  her 
flowers.  ]\Iy  father  met  with  a  book  called  "  Emma 
Corbett,  or  the  Miseries  of  Civil  War."  As  the  American 


122  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^7^^- 

war  was  then  raging,  he  thought  the  book  treated  on 
this  subject,  and  brought  it  home  to  his  wife.  He  read 
to  us  several  passages  containing  good  sentiments,  pretty 
sentiments,  but  little  or  no  information,  and  very  soon 
got  tired  of  it.  Having  resigned  the  volume  to  me,  I 
read  on,  knowing  well  the  kind  of  book  I  w^as  reading, 
and  secretly  enjoying  the  future  joke.  At  length  the 
story  began  to  grow  a  little  more  romantic,  and  my 
mother  asked  if  I  believed  it  to  be  true.  "  Oh,  no, 
mother,  we  do  not  expect  truth  in  a  novel."  My 
mother's  astonishment  at  this  discovery  increased  our 
mirth  at  the  idea  of  my  father's  having  borrowed  a 
novel  to  read  to  her. 

It  was  a  custom  with  my  mother  to  go  into  the  hall 
when  the  boys  were  preparing  for  their  place  of  worship, 
and  to  examine  their  dress  and  their  hands,  and  see 
that  all  were  clean  and  in  order.  When  a  boy  was 
leaving  school,  she  seldom  or  never  failed  to  give  him 
advice  as  to  his  future  conduct  in  life.  These  lectures, 
"warm  from  the  heart,  and  to  the  heart  addressed,^' 
often  made  a  deep  and  with  some  a  lasting  impression. 
She  often  had  harder  tasks  to  perform.  If  the  misdeeds 
of  her  neighbours  came  to  her  knowledge,  she  spoke 
not  of  them  to  others,  but  to  themselves  ;  and  if  un- 
guarded words  and  actions  fell  under  her  observation, 
however  hard  to  her  timid  mind,  how  little  soever  she 
was  acquainted  with  the  transgressors,  or  whatever 
their  rank,  she  must  relieve  her  mind  by  informing 
them  of  her  sense  of  their  errors  ;  and  this  w\as  done  in 
such  a  spirit  and  in  such  terms  as  rarely,  if  ever,  gave 


1782.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  ISJ 

offence.  One  incident  of  this  kind  I  must  record.  My 
father  and  mother,  with  others  of  their  family,  were  by 
special  invitation  at  the  house  of  their  landlord,  Clay- 
ton Bayley,  at  Gowran,  when  Beauchamp  Bagnell  and 
a  young  man  of  the  Butler  family,  who  had  dined  at 
Lord  Clifden's,  came  in  a  state  of  intoxication  to  the 
house.  Clayton  Bayley  was  very  unwilling  to  be  in- 
truded upon  while  enjoying  the  company  of  his  former 
preceptor ;  and  his  wife  was  greatly  distressed,  for  she 
was  certain  that  "that  wicked  Bagnell  would  insist 
that  her  husband  must  drink  with  him  all  night,  or 
else  fight  him."  It  was  in  vain  our  host  insisted  that 
he  was  "  not  at  home,"  which  he  firmly  maintained 
nialgre  the  lectures  of  his  old  mistress ;  he  w^as  at 
length  obliged  to  appear,  and,  as  an  apology  for  not 
receiving  them,  to  uiform  Bagnell  that  he  had  Quaker 
guests  in  his  house.  This  Bagnell  declared  was  an 
additional  inducement  to  him  to  desire  admission,  for 
of  all  things  he  loved  Quakers.  He  entered  on  crutches, 
having  been  lately  hurt  in  a  duel ;  and,  though  dis- 
figured by  lameness,  and  obscured  by  intoxication,  the 
grace  of  his  form  and  the  beauty  of  his  countenance 
were  so  conspicuous,  as  to  excite  in  no  small  degree  the 
mingled  sensations  of  admiration,  pity,  and  regret. 
He  had  entered  into  the  world  with  splendid  gifts  of 
fortune  and  still  more  splendid  gifts  of  nature,  and 
possessed  a  mind  not  unworthy  of  them,  till,  drawn 
into  the  vortex  of  dissipation,  his  mind  debased,  his 
constitution  shattered,  his  fortune  impaired,  ho  became 
the  wreck  which  now  appeared  before  us.     It  was  to 


124  THE    AI3NALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1782. 

my  mother  tliat  Bagnell  addressed  liis  conversation. 
He  repeated  liis  declaration  of  affection  to  the  Society 
of  Friends,  and  assured  her  that  he  agreed  with  them 
in  sentiments,  and  wished  to  belong  to  their  body, 
"  only  that  he  could  not  in  that  case  retain  his  corps 
"  of  volunteers."  My  mother  made  little  reply,  but  he, 
rising  soon  after  to  leave  the  room,  expressed  much 
unwillingness  to  lose  her  company,  and  at  length  left 
the  house,  much  to  the  relief  of  all  who  remained  in  it 
except  my  mother.  Her  mind  was  so  impressed  with 
sadness  in  contemplating  the  situation  of  this  man, 
that  she  believed  it  her  duty  to  inform  him  of  it.  In 
the  course  of  a  few  months  she  heard  he  had  come  to 
visit  his  sister  Keatinge ;  she  went  to  ]N'arraghmore,  and 
had  a  conference  with  him,  honestly  laying  before  him 
the  injury  he  did  himself  and  others  by  his  conduct 
and  example.  He  heard  her  not  only  with  polite  but 
with  serious  attention,  acknowledged  the  truth  of  her 
remarks,  and  lamented  his  inability  to  keep  those  good 
resolutions  which  he  had  often  made.  He  assured  her 
that  he  approved  and  esteemed  the  principles  of  her 
Society,  and  that  the  sentiments  he  expressed  in  his 
state  of  intoxication  were  sincere.  He  thanked  her 
cordially,  and  at  parting  kissed  her  hand. 

Another  incident  of  a  similar  kind  was  as  follows. 
John  St,  Leger,  a  gentleman  of  unhappy  notoriety  for 
extravagant  dissipation,  was  reduced  by  his  vices  to  a 
languishing  condition,  and  no  one  about  him  had  the 
courage  to  tell  him  of  his  danger.  My  mother  was 
greatly  concerned   to  hear  this,  and  she  imparted  to 


1782.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I25 

him  by  letter  her  feelings  on  his  account,  urging  him 
to  review  his  past  life,  and  to  prepare  for  the  life  to 
come.  I  was  told  he  was  much  aifected  by  this  letter ; 
that  he  caused  it  to  be  read  to  him  several  times  as  he 
lay  on  his  death-bed ;  and  recommended  it  to  be  sent 
to  another  gentleman,  who,  he  said,  wanted  such  advice 
as  much  as  he  did. 

My  mother  often  spoke  of  the  death  of  two  of  the 
boys  in  a  very  touching  manner.  The  first  of  these  was 
Chaworth  Brabazon  Hallo wes,  who  came  to  school  in 
1756.  His  father  was  an  officer  in  foreign  service  ;  he 
was  an  only  child  about  nine  years  old.  His  mother 
had  been  consumptive  till  his  birth,  after  which  she 
was  free  from  the  disease,  which  seemed  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  her  child.  The  physicians  told  the  mother 
that  if  her  son  was  attacked  by  measles  or  small-pox 
he  would  be  in  great  clanger.  She  was  immediately 
informed  when  the  small-pox  came  into  the  school,  but 
she  did  not  remove  the  child.  In  a  little  time  she  had 
to  attend  the  summons  to  see  him  on  his  death-bed. 
"Oh  mama  !  I  am  dying  !"  was  the  salute  she  received 
from  the  poor  little  victim  of  disease.  "  My  dear, 
I  know  you  are,"  she  replied,  and  the  person  with 
whom  she  lodged  in  Dublin,  and  who  accompanied  her 
on  this  journey,  immediately  took  her  out  to  walk.  I 
have  been  often  surprised  that  my  mother  did  not 
seem  to  accuse  her  of  want  of  maternal  tenderness, 
but  merely  pitied  her  as  a  timid  woman  under  the 
influence  of  a  blustering  landlady,  who  made  her  do 
as  she  pleased,   and  who  actually  gave  orders  that  if 


126  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1782. 

the  child  died  in  the  night  they  should  not  be  dis- 
turbed. Her  orders  were  obej^ed,  and  before  morning 
the  mother  was  childless.  My  mother's  distress  at  this 
event  was  great. 

The  other  boy  was  John  Eyre,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  from  the 
county  of  Galway.  My  mother  heard  a  sudden  shriek 
of  pain;  she  quickly  enquired  the  reason,  and  was  told 
that  Jack  Eyre  was  seized  with  a  pain  in  his  heel, 
which  continued  with  unabated  violence,  and  resisted 
all  the  means  which  were  tried  for  relief.  He  even 
compelled  his  attendants  to  press  his  heel  so  as  almost 
to  bruise  it,  thinking  it  afforded  temporary  ease.  As 
he  sat  opposite  to  my  mother  at  the  other  side  of 
the  fireplace,  she  looked  at  him,  and,  shocked  at  the 
expression  of  death  which  she  saw  in  his  face,  she 
sent  immediately  for  my  father  and  requested  he 
would  lose  no  time  in  sending  for  the  boy's  parents. 
The  express  was  despatched,  and  they  arrived.  Tlie 
character  of  the  father  was  such  that  my  mother  felt 
a  kind  of  dread,  but  nothing  of  turbulence  appeared 
in  his  demeanour.  Softened  by  sorrow,  his  manners 
were  remarkably  gentle,  and  he  performed  the  offices 
of  a  nurse  for  his  languishing  son  with  feminine  ten- 
derness. The  boy's  mother  witnessed  Ms  sufferings 
with  all  a  mother's  sensations,  and  from  the  time  she 
ascended  the  stairs  to  his  chamber,  never  came  down 
till  she  followed  the  corpse  of  her  son.  Although  the 
intense  pain  was  not  to  be  relieved,  the  poor  lad  tried 
to  bear  it  with  patience,  and  was  very  loving  and  ten- 
der to  those  about  him.      The  gloom  became  deeper 


J  782.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  I27 

the  patient's  strength  was  exhausted  by  pain  and  fever, 
and  the  candles  went  out  suddenly  in  his  chamber 
without  any  apparent  cause ;  superstition  was  aroused 
by  this  circumstance  ;  and  even  my  sensible  mother 
remarked  it,  and  gave  directions  that  if  the  youth 
should  suddenly  expire,  great  care  should  be  taken 
to  preserve  quietude.  His  mother,  on  closely  ques- 
tioning him,  found  that  he  had  cut  an  issue  in  his 
leg,  and  had  dried  it  again  ;  for  lie  was  addicted  to 
trying  experiments,  and  had  at  one  time  inoculated 
himself  with  small-pox.  This  she  thought  might  have 
caused  the  malad}^  The  lad  perceived  his  dissolution 
approaching,  and  solemnly  said,  "  ]N"one  know  this  road 
but  they  that  go  it,"  and  not  long  after,  having  just 
spoken  in  a  voice  as  strong  as  usual,  expired  as  sud- 
denly as  the  candles  went  out.  My  mother,  who  was 
not  present  at  the  time,  was  terrified  by  a  most  violent 
and  lamentable  shriek  ;  she  feared  it  was  either  the 
boy's  last  agony,  or  that  his  departing  spirit  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  outbreak.  Neither  was  the  case,  for 
his  mother  had  been  taken  out  of  the  room  before 
her  grief  had  thus  found  utterance,  and  my  mother 
found  her  seated  on  the  bedside  in  another  apartment, 
wringing  her  hands,  and  in  the  agony  of  grief  inces- 
santly repeating,  "  0  death  !  death  !  death  !  Jack  ! 
Jack!  Jack!"  Lord  Baltiuglass,  who  was  related  to 
the  family,  sent  his  coach  to  convey  the  parents  home. 
As  the  mother  followed  the  remains  of  her  beloved 
child  out  of  the  house,  she  turned  back,  "  And  now," 
said  she,  ''  had  I  twenty  sons  I  would  send  them  all 


128  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1782. 

to  you."  Her  nephew,  Poyntz  Willington,  came  in  a 
short  time  after. 

James  Forbes,  the  only  child  of  his  father,  had  a 
wooden  leg,  yet  his  activity  was  siirprismg.  My  mo- 
ther was  once  much  alarmed  by  being  told  that  one 
of  the  boys  had  broken  his  leg,  and  was  greatly 
relieved  when  she  found  it  was  Forbes'  wooden  leg. 
He  always  took  care  to  have  a  ready-made  limb  lying 
by  to  season. 

My  mother  often  had  the  journals  of  Friends  read  in 
the  winter  evenings  by  Friends'  children.  She  enter- 
tained a  few  rather  singular  scruples,  one  of  which  was 
her  objection  to  images,  even  in  china,  on  which  we 
sometimes  amused  ourselves  with  finding  an  almost 
imperceptible  man  or  bird.  To  gratify  this  scruple,  the 
parent  of  one  of  the  pupils  procured  for  her  a  tea- 
service  from  China  without  any  images.  Her  con- 
sideration for  her  fellow -creatures  would  not  permit 
her  to  cover  her  floor  with  what  might  cover  the  poor, 
and,  being  remarkable  for  neatness,  it  was  a  difficulty 
to  contrive  what  should  at  once  keep  her  apartments 
clean  and  her  mind  easy.  Haircloth  was  a  bad  sub- 
stitute for  carpets,  but  when  listings  were  introduced, 
the  discovery  was  welcomed  by  my  mother  as  a  valu- 
able one ;  industry  and  dexterity  were  soon  exercised, 
and  the  rooms  were  presently  furnished  to  her  satisfac- 
tion. She  was  remarkable  for  freely  taking  advice  and 
trying  the  methods  of  others,  yet  not  unfrequently  it 
proved  that  her  o^vn  mode  was  preferable  ;  as  Edmund 
Burke  once  remarked  in  reference  to  experiments  in 


1782.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  I29 

farming,  that  the  advantage  in  trying  them  often  con- 
sisted in  proving  that  the  old  way  was  the  best.  The 
butchers  were  of  all  tradesmen  the  chief  annoyance  to 
my  mother,  as  they  frequently  intruded  on  her  while 
at  breakfast,  exhibiting  their  wares,  and  praising  "  the 
colour  and  fat."  On  seeing  them  approach,  my  father 
was  wont  to  call  out,  "  Mistress,  fortify,  or,  if  possible, 
fiftify  thyself  against  the  butchers. 

She  was  very  strict  in  inculcating  good  manners  ; 
we  were  early  taught  to  pay  deference  to  old  age 
and  courtesy  to  strangers  ;  and  were  not  allowed  to 
call  poor  old  people  by  the  abbreviations  of  "  Bet," 
"  Moll,"  &c.,  which  were  more  in  use  at  that  time  than 
at  present.  I  remember  being  sent  back  to  a  shop  to 
make  acknowledgments  for  some  sugar-candy  which  1 
had  been  given,  and  which  I  had  accepted  without  say- 
ing that  "  I  was  obliged."  So  strict  was  her  adherence 
to  truth  that  she  scarcely  allowed  herself  to  assert 
anything  positively,  nor  would  she  permit  us  to  do 
so  \  and  so  accustomed  have  I  been  to  this  habitual 
caution,  that  even  to  this  day,  if  I  hear  an  extravagant 
expression,  I  examine  it  involuntarily  in  my  mind  be- 
fore I  perceive  the  exaggeration.  I  think  a  ready 
method  of  discouraging  that  false  wit  which  consists  in 
telling  lies  would  be — never  to  laugh  at  it. 

My  mother  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  the  charms 
of  taste,  but  as  they  had  too  much  influence  on  her 
youthful  mind,  she  feared  to  yield  to  their  attractions. 
To  her  the  sick  resorted  for  medicine,  the  poor  for 
relief,  the  afllicted  for  comfort,  and  the  perplexed  for 


130  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [^7^2. 

advice.  We  were  not  insensible  to  tlie  happiness  we 
enjoyed  in  being  favoured  with  such  excellent  and 
amiable  parents,  whose  youth  had  been  spent  in  the 
pursuit  of  virtue,  and  who  now  reaped  the  reward 
when  age  was  deadening  the  natural  faculties,  and 
enforcing  the  warning  that  "  we  have  no  abiding  city 
here."  Their  future  prospects  were  not  overwhelmed 
by  gloom ;  they  looked  forward  steadily  and  humbly  to 
"  the  recompence  of  reward,"  while  they  enjoyed  their 
outward  blessings  with  a  sweeter  relish  than  those  do 
who  place  their  chief  happiness  in  them.  It  was  not 
their  fault  if  all  within  their  influence  were  not  made 
better  by  their  example,  and  happier  by  their  society. 
The  wish  often  arises  that  I  may  make  the  youth  of 
my  children  pass  as  comfortably  as  they  did  mine,  and 
thus  repay  part  of  the  debt  I  owe  them.  And  while 
I  exult  in  the  honour  of  being  descended  from  pro- 
genitors whose  virtues  confer  a  dignity  to  which  titles, 
wealth,  and  rank  alone  can  never  aspire,  I  say  with 
Cowper : — 

My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  loins  enthroned  and  rulers  of  the  earth, 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise, 
The  child  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies  ! 


CHAPTER  V. 


Anna  Tavemer  settles  in  Ballitore. — The  wet  summer  of  1782. — 
A  fickle  fair  one. — The  mysterious  Welsh  clergyman. — How 
Wentworth  Mansergh  dreaded  coming  to  school — and  how  he 
changed  his  mind. — A  cautious  swain  and  a  terrible  widow. — 
Major  Dunbar. — "  Gazetteer"  Walker  invades  Friends'  burial 
ground. — The  author  and  her  father  visit  Beaconsfield — Her 
poem  on  the  occasion,  and  Burke's  reply. — Primitive  "coosins" 
in  Selby. — Eeturn  of  Tom  Eyre  from  the  war.  Death  of  hk 
brother  Sam. — Travellers'  tales. — His  ideas  on  the  manage- 
ment of  the  war — and  on  the  march  of  improvement  in  Bal- 
litore.—  He  marries,  and  becomes  a  captain — The  story  of 
Captain  St.  Clair     __         __         __         __         __     13110163 

'jTHE  beginning  of  1782  brought  a  new  inhabitant 
to  Ballitore — Anna  Taverner,  a  young  Londoner, 
whose  father  was  nevertheless  a  native  and  inhabitant 
of  the  city  of  Limerick.  She  had,  like  me,  been  educated 
by  an  affectionate  aunt,  and,  like  me,  had  lost  her,  and 
suffered  in  health  from  the  shock.  Were  the  old  meet- 
ing-house in  Sycamore-alley  now  standing,  I  think  I 
could  point  out  the  very  spot  where  I  hrst  beheld  this 
delightful  vision  brightening  the  gloomy  aisle.  Her 
stature  was  rather  tall,  her  form  elegant,  her  carriage 
inclining  a  Httle  forward,  yet  tai  removed  from  an  awk- 


132  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        L^/^^* 

ward  stoop ;  her  complexion  was  delicately  blooming, 
her  eyes  a  dark  hazel,  her  teeth  white  and  even,  her 
hair  shining  amber,  her  looks  intelligent  and  expres- 
sive, and  peculiarly  marked  with  sw^eetness.  Critical 
judges  might  not  pronounce  her  to  be  beautiful,  but  all 
hearts  acknowledged  her  to  be  lovely.  Her  manners 
and  conversation  were  as  captivating  as  her  person ;  an 
excellent  understanding  and  a  still  more  excellent  heart 
beamed  through  her  transparent  countenance,  even 
when  the  purple  light  of  youth  and  the  rosy  bloom 
of  health  were  almost  annihilated  by  years  of  sickness 
and  sorrow.  My  heart  expanded  to  meet  her,  and, 
without  many  professions  of  friendship,  we  have  con- 
tinued to  love  each  other  with  steady  affection.  An 
orphan  now,  she  came  to  Ballitore,  which  seems  to 
attract  with  a  kind  of  fascination  those  who  remain 
long  in  its  quiet  shades.  Though  the  wind  sweeps 
through  our  valley,  and  makes  the  difference  between 
summer  and  winter  more  observable  than  in  many 
other  places,  yet  pleasant  faces  and  cheerful  firesides 
more  than  compensate  this  disadvantage,  and  the  sum- 
mer and  the  winter  evenings  have  each  their  peculiar 
charms  in  Ballitore. 

We  welcomed  our  dear  Anna  Tavern er  with  joy  ; 
but  our  enjoyment  of  her  society  was  soon  marred,  for 
she  was  prostrated  by  a  lingering  and  painful  illness. 
Her  sufferings  were  dreadful ;  her  nerves  were  racked 
by  convulsions,  and  at  length  her  tongue  lost  the 
power  of  articulation.  Copious  bleedings  appeared  to 
be  the  only  means  of  preserving  her  life,  though  it  was 


1/82.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I^S 

believed  they  increased  her  complaints  by  the  weak- 
ness they  produced.  Her  kind-hearted  physician,  be- 
holding her  suffer  agonies  which  all  his  skill  could  not 
relieve,  cried  out  in  accents  of  distress,  "The  Lord 
"  help  you  !  You  have  nothing  but  rehgion  to  support 
"  you."  He  spoke  truly.  Nothing  short  of  this  sup- 
port could  give  that  patience  which  equalled  her  suf- 
ferings. For  four  months  she  continued  deprived  of 
speech,  except  that  once  during  that  time  her  moutli 
was  opened  in  prayer.  When  her  speech  was  fully 
restored,  her  first  use  of  it  was  to  utter  the  sentence, 
"  Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works.  Lord  God  Al- 
"  mighty  !  Just  and  true  are  all  thy  ways,  thou  King 
"  of  saints." 

The  year  i  782  was  remarkable  for  its  wet  summer 
and  late  scanty  harvest.  It  was  said  that  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  had  predicted  that  in  this  year  there  would  be 
little  difference  between  summer  and  winter  weather. 
It  was  so  ;  and  in  1783  the  distresses  of  the  poor  were 
great,  and  it  was  said  there  were  instances  of  some 
having  perished  of  want.  No  such  misfortune  occurred 
in  our  village. 

About  this  time  there  came  to  our  neighbour  Susy 
Bayly's  a  handsome  young  man,  Jack  Cooper,  a  rela- 
tion of  the  family.  It  was  natural  that,  what  with 
walking  and  riding  together,  the  beauty  of  the  youth's 
person  and  the  melody  of  his  voice,  young  Susan  felt 
that  "  friendship  in  woman  is  sister  to  love,"  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  her  affability  and  independent  fortune 
won  his  heart.     Her  mother  disapproved  of  this  attach- 


134  "^HE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^7^3- 

ment,  and  Jack  was  sent  home.  His  fair  one  conti- 
nued to  correspond  with  him  by  the  assistance  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  which  of  course  led  to  an  acquaintance 
with  "the  elegant  doctor,"  as  he  was  frequently  called, 
and  poor  Susan's  susceptible  heart  again  experienced 
the  danger  of  this  kind  of  friendship.  The  doctor  was 
surprised  when  he  perceived  his  good  fortune,  and 
finding  the  same  attractions  ui  the  damsel  which  his 
rival  had  found,  was  disposed  to  possess  himself  of  the 
prize.  However,  though  her  fortune  was  at  her  own 
disposal,  he  had  too  much  honour  and  delicacy  to  take 
her  without  the  consent  of  her  family.  Her  brother 
encouraged  his  hopes  of  success,  and  the  doctor  went  to 
Dublin  for  the  license  and  ring.  Her  mother  disap- 
proving of  this  connection  also,  the  daughter  was  con- 
fined to  her  room  and  roughly  treated ;  her  former  lover 
returned  her  letters,  but  soon  followed  them,  accom- 
panied by  a  relative,  to  excuse  this  conduct.  On  seeing 
her  first  love,  young  Susan's  first  flame  revived,  the 
mother  now  consented,  and  next  morning,  when  the 
carriage  conveyed  the  young  couple  to  Cooper's  Hill 
to  be  married,  the  whole  village  was  in  a  ferment 
of  wonder  and  mirth.  This  was  followed  by  serious 
alarm,  on  Dr.  Johnson's  return  with  the  license  and 
ring,  for  the  consequences  of  a  meeting  between  Bob 
Bayly  and  him.  That  alarm  was  dispelled  by  another 
surprise — a  bonfire  blazed  in  the  street,  and  noisy  accla- 
mations congratulated  the  doctor  on  his  escape  from 
becoming  the  spouse  of  such  a  fickle  fair  one  ! 

A  Welsh  clerg}mian  named  John  Roberts  was  an 


1783-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I35 

inmate  with  Abby  Widdows  for  about  a  year.  He 
said  he  had  come  to  Ireland  on  the  invitation  of  Lord 
Aldborongh,  and  he  frequently  visited  at  Belan,  the 
seat  of  that  nobleman.  He  was  an  elderly,  portly, 
well-looking  man,  very  communicative  of  his  stock  of 
knowledge,  which  consisted  chiefly  of  hymns  and  re- 
ceipts in  physic  and  cookery.  I  had  the  misfortune  to 
stand  pretty  high  in  his  favour.  I  say,  misfortune,  for 
one  evening  when  Abby  WiddoAVS  had  assembled  in 
her  parlour  a  pleasant  party  of  her  young  friends,  Doc- 
tor Eoberts,  as  we  called  him,  seated  me  beside  him, 
and,  producing  a  newspaper,  read  aloud  to  me  the 
debates  of  the  Irish  parliament,  which  covered  one 
page.  Now  politics  are  my  aversion ;  and  though  I 
have  often  been  ashamed  of  my  ignorance,  I  have 
thought  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  endeavour  after  such 
knowledge,  and  to  affect  it  would  have  been  a  danger- 
ous experiment.  I  practised  no  little  self-denial  in 
sitting  out  the  tedious  detail,  and  rejoiced  in  my  heart 
when  I  saw  land.  But  when  the  courteous  doctor 
turned  to  the  next  page,  covered  in  like  manner  with 
the  English  parliamentary  proceedings,  I  cast  a  despair- 
ing glance  at  my  companions,  whose  arch  looks  and 
suppressed  smiles  showed  how  little  they  envied  me  the 
partiality  of  the  old  gentleman. 

As  something  mysterious  hung  about  this  man, 
Molly  Webster  firmly  believed  that  he  was  Doctor 
Dodd  in  disguise.  The  unfortunate  Doctor  Dodd  had 
suffered  death  for  forgery  a  short  time  before,  and 
Molly  had  either  heard,  or  imagined  she  had   heard 


136  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1783. 

that  means  had  been  privately  and  successfully  used  to 
restore  him  to  life.  Molly  stood  alone  in  her  conjec- 
ture, but  it  was  evident  that  Doctor  Roberts  did  not 
desire  to  be  fully  kno^vn.  Abby  Widdows,  when  tra- 
velling from  Dublin  one  day  in  the  stage-coach,  met  a 
gentleman  who  knew  her  lodger,  and  gave  her  a  card 
to  present  to  him.  The  doctor,  on  receiving  it,  disco- 
vered symptoms  of  embarrassment,  and  soon  afterwards 
left  Ballitore.  Hearing  some  time  after  that  he  was 
living  at  Whitehaven,  I  wrote  to  him,  but  received  no 
answer.  In  the  course  of  years  I  heard  that  he  was 
in  Cumberland,  lodging  near  my  friend  Thomas  Wil- 
kinson, through  whom  I  sent  another  letter  for  him  ; 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  that  letter  either,  nor  did  he 
ever  mention  having  been  in  Ireland.  He  soon  after- 
wards left  that  neighbourhood  also  ;  but  I  made  no 
further  enquiry,  and  left  him  to  enjoy  his  obscurity  in 
peace. 

There  was  at  school  at  this  time  a  youth  named 
Wentworth  Mansergh,  youngest  brother  to  a  gentleman 
of  fortune  near  Casliel.  His  brother  George  had  been 
at  Ballitore  school,  and  cruelly  told  the  child  that  at 
the  Quaker  school  he  should  be  flogged  without  mercy ; 
and  inspired  him  with  such  horror,  that  when  they 
proposed  sending  him  to  Ballitore,  he  eloped  from  his 
brother's  house  and  took  shelter  with  his  grandfather, 
till  his  terror  abated  and  he  ventured  to  return. 
This  occurred  several  times  ;  at  length  the  reluctant 
boy  was  captured,  and  his  elder  brother  set  out 
with    liim    for   school.     On    the    way  he    got  at    his 


1783.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  137 

brother's  pistols,  turned  tlie  horses  about,  and  threat- 
ened to  shoot  his  brother  if  he  did  not  go  back. 
This  desperate  effort  proved  ineffectual,  and  poor  Man- 
sergh  was  brought  in  triumph  to  Ballitore.  His  anx- 
ious eyes  were  soon  fastened  on  the  handles  suspended 
from  a  loft  for  the  pump- churn  ;  tliis  he  believed  was 
a  machine  to  which  the  boys  were  fastened  to  undergo 
flagellation.  The  grave  looks  of  the  master  and  mis- 
tress filled  him  with  dread  ;  however,  he  kept  his 
mind  to  himself,  and  in  a  few  days  took  an  opportu- 
nity of  setting  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to  his  beloved 
home.  When  he  got  to  the  end  of  the  village  the 
cross  roads  puzzled  him,  and  he  could  not  recollect  the 
name  of  the  last  town  he  had  come  through  while  on 
his  way  to  Ballitore ;  he  therefore  returned,  expecting 
shortly  to  learn  it  without  incurring  sus^^icion.  But 
long  before  he  did  so,  his  desire  to  leave  the  school  had 
subsided,  and  he  found  that  an  evil  report  had  been 
given  of  the  good  land.  He  remained  here  for  six 
years,  greatly  beloved,  for  he  was  the  soul  of  good 
nature  and  kindness — 

He  had  a  heart  for  pity,  and  a  hand 
Open  as  day  to  melting  charity. 

As  he  spent  much  of  his  leisure  time  with  us  at 
the  Eetreat,  we  were  surprised  that  some  days  had 
passed  without  a  visit  from  Mansergh,  although  we  had 
seen  him  apparently  very  much  occupied ;  sometimes 
carrying  bread  from  the  baker's,  sometimes  frequenting 
other  shops,  whilst  a  stranger  of  reduced  appearance 


138  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,        [^y^j. 

was  now  and  tlien  seen  with  him.  When  this  stranger 
had  departed  and  Mansergh  reappeared  in  our  circle, 
we  learned  after  repeated  inquiries  concerning  his  late 
guest,  that  this  poor  man  had  been  a  tutor  in  his 
brother's  family,  but  was  now  in  great  poverty.  We 
already  knew  he  had  supported  him  here,  and  had 
shared  his  pocket-money  with  him  ;  but  the  generous 
youth  was  more  willing  to  tell  us  that  when  he  parted 
from  his  guest,  having  walked  with  him  some  miles,  and 
pressed  upon  him  the  remainder  of  his  cash,  the  poor 
fellow  with  tears  firmly  refused  the  gift,  declaring  he 
had  given  him  too  much  already.  "  I  know  not  what 
was  the  matter  with  me,"  continued  Mansergh.  As  he 
spoke,  his  colour  heightened,  his  lip  quivered,  his  eyes 
filled  fast  with  tears,  and  we  changed  the  conversation. 

Though  he  was  so  full  of  drollery  that  we  were  often 
weary  with  the  fits  of  laughter  he  caused,  yet  when  a  tale 
of  sorrow  was  introduced  in  the  height  of  his  mirth,  I 
have  seen  his  countenance  fall  in  a  moment,  and  all 
sensations  vanish  but  anxiety  to  relieve  the  distressed. 
This  tenderness  of  disposition  extended  even  to  the 
brute  creation.  He  and  I  once  met  accidentally  in 
Youghal ;  he  was  truly  glad  to  see  me,  yet  he  pre- 
sently started  away,  with  eagerness  and  displeasure  in 
his  looks,  to  pursue  a  crowd  of  idle  boys,  and  rescue 
from  them  a  dog  to  whose  tail  they  had  tied  a  kettle. 

Our  sequestered  shades  were  frequently  sought  by 
those  who  wished  to  conceal  themselves  from  the  world. 
A  young  gentleman  came  to  my  father's  school,  yet  not 
j-egularly  to  school.     He  said  he  wished  to  improve 


1783.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1 39 

himself  in  the  classics,  but  he  attended  school  too  little 
to  reap  any  benefit  from  the  instruction  given  there,  nor 
did  he  appear  to  study  in  his  chamber.  He  preferred 
the  amusements  of  drawing  and  poetry,  and  wandering 
about  in  the  rural  scenery ;  especially  when  squire  to 
the  maids  of  the  valley,  who  were  pleased  with  his 
gentle  manners,  intelligent  conversation,  and  handsome 
face,  all  made  more  interesting  by  that  air  of  dejection 
which  seemed  to  cloud  the  morning  of  his  day.  He 
appeared  to  possess  a  mind  too  ingenuous  and  innocent 
to  be  the  j^rey  of  guilt,  nor  were  we  troubled  with  an 
inquisitive  spirit.  Once,  on  lending  me  a  book,  he 
requested  me  not  to  let  it  go  into  other  hands,  and, 
sho\Wng  me  a  name  written  in  it  different  from  that 
which  he  then  bore,  gave  that  as  the  reason,  and 
offered  to  tell  me  the  circumstances  Avliich  had  induced 
him  to  conceal  liimself  under  a  feigned  name.  Far 
from  being  flattered  at  the  prospect  of  obtaining  the 
stranger's  confidence,  or  curious  to  develop  the  mys- 
tery, I  was  alarmed  for  what  might  be  the  consequence 
of  knowing  his  secret,  with  which  I  told  him  I  had  no 
wish  to  be  made  acquainted.  However,  to  ease  his 
mind,  he  communicated  the  cause  of  his  depression. 

He  had  finished  his  studies  in  Edinburgh,  taken  out 
his  diploma,  and  returned  to  his  parents  in  the  north 
of  Ireland,  when  it  was  proposed  to  him  to  marry  a 
handsome  and  rich  young  widow,  who  on  her  part  had 
no  objection  to  the  union,  while  his  own  family  were 
anxiously  solicitous  to  settle  liim  in  such  an  apparently 
comfortable   situation.      But  the   youth,    having  had 


140  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1/83. 

much  opportunity  of  observing  the  lady's  temper  du- 
ring the  life  of  her  first  husband,  recollected  that  it 
was  too  violent  for  his  taste,  and  rejected  the  proposal. 
This  continued,  notwithstanding,  to  be  vehemently 
urged,  and  the  consequent  annoyance  had  such  an 
effect  on  liis  health  that  a  journey  to  the  south  of 
France  was  judged  necessary,  and  his  friends  believed 
him  to  be  at  Montpeher,  while  he  was  inhaling  the 
temperate  breezes  of  Ballitore,  and  recovering  his  health 
and  serenity.  The  cause  of  his  concealment  being  re- 
moved by  the  fair  widow's  making  another  choice,  he 
remained  here  only  three  months,  and  we  expected  he 
would  soon  dismiss  us  from  his  memory.  But  not  so  : 
he  had  a  warm  sincere  heart,  and  occasionally  corre- 
sponded with  us ;  and  in  about  two  years  I  had  a  kind 
of  farewell  letter  from  him,  previous  to  his  departure 
for  Canada,  as  surgeon  to  the  5th  regiment  of  foot. 
My  brother,  some  years  after  this,  had  an  affectionate 
letter  from  him  from  Quebec,  and  another  written  in 
England  at  the  time  of  the  rebellion  in  Ireland,  mak- 
ing most  anxious  enquiries  after  our  welfare.  Touched 
at  his  continued  remembrance,  I  begged  to  be  permitted 
to  answer  this  letter,  and  soon  had  a  reply  in  the  style 
of  old  cordial  friendship.  He  told  me  he  had  married 
into  one  of  the  first  families  m  Canada,  had  five  fine 
children,  and  was  in  very  good  circumstances,  being 
surgeon  to  the  forces  in  the  Lower  Province. 

Griesebank  was  taken  by  George  Dunbar,  commonly 
called  Major  Dunbar.  I  never  could  learn  that  he  had 
ever  been  in  the  army,   but  he  seemed  to  inherit  the 


1783.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  I4.I 

title  from  his  father,  who  left  him  an  inheritance  more 
substantial — some  good  estates.  He  was  a  small, 
active,  elderly  man,  on  whose  education  I  doubt  not 
much  expense  had  been  bestowed, — for  he  had  been 
taught  fencing  and  dancing  and  the  French  language. 
His  first  wife  had  been  a  widow  Agar,  mother  to  Lord 
Clifden.  He  kept  fine  company,  wore  fine  clothes, 
visited  in  fine  equipages,  but  while  he  basked  in  the 
sunshine  of  grandeur  his  patrimony  melted  before  it. 
He  was  married  to  a  second  wife,  and  they  had  one  son. 
He  filled  Griesebank  with  excellent  furniture ;  many 
prints  of  Hogarth,  and  some  family  pictures  ornamented 
the  walls  of  the  parlours  and  bed-chambers,  and  he 
laid  out  the  garden  with  taste.  He  w^as  a  member  of 
Parliament,  and  very  obhging  in  giving  franks.  We 
liked  our  lively  neighbour,  though  we  saw  that  vanity 
was  a  predominant  feature  in  his  character,  and  thought 
his  manners  were  too  gay  for  his  age  and  for  our  taste. 
In  1787  he  again  became  a  widower.  My  mother  and 
I  visited  him  on  the  occasion,  and  when  I  went  to  look 
on  the  lifeless  body,  he  accompanied  me,  though  I 
begged  he  would  not.  "  There  she  is,"  he  exclaimed 
as  we  entered,  waving  his  hand  to  the  walls,  "  sur- 
rounded by  her  relations."  Not  knowing  but  that 
some  of  her  relatives  had  come  on  the  occasion,  I 
looked  around,  but  saw  only  some  of  my  own  lowly 
neighbours.  Possibly  he  perceived  my  surprise,  for  he 
pointed  directly  to  the  family  pictures,  repeating  their 
titles  with  no  small  emphasis ;  and,  concluding  with  his 
own,  "  And  there  is  unfortunate  George !"  he  darted  out 


142  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1783- 

of  the  room.      The  nominal  major  and  liis  son  soon 
afterwards  left  Ballitore. 

We  received  a  visit  of  a  few  days  from  John  Walker, 
the  author  of  the  Geography  and  Gazetteer.  His  sim- 
plicity and  good  sense  recommended  him  to  us,  as  they 
did  to  others ;  and  he  seemed  much  jDleased  with  us, 
our  school,  our  village,  and  our  gardens,  remarking 
that  my  bower  reminded  him  of  Eowe's  Letters.  I 
suj^pose  he  was  not  so  well  pleased  with  our  place  of 
interment,  for  the  stone  which  marked  the  grave  of 
Abel  Strettel  appeared  to  him  inconsistent  with  our 
principles  as  a  religious  society  ;  and  on  the  night  be- 
fore his  lea\dng  Ballitore,  he  got  into  the  graveyard, 
and,  alone  and  unassisted,  completely  buried  the  stone. 
This  was  discovered  a  few  days  afterwards,  and  Eobert 
Bayly,  displeased  at  the  indignity  offered  to  the  bones 
of  his  grandfather,  desired  leave  of  my  father  to  re- 
establish the  stone.  My  father  assured  him  of  his  igno- 
rance of  the  transaction,  but  thought  that,  since  it  had 
been  removed,  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  restore  it, 
seeing  that  such  records  were  contrary  to  the  practice 
of  Friends.  Eobert  departed  in  great  wrath,  which, 
however,  he  forebore  venting  on  his  respected  master  ; 
and,  even  when  he  had  scaled  the  walls  of  the  grave- 
yard, armed  with  guns  and  attended  by  men  with 
digging  implements,  his  forbearance  continued,  and  he 
judiciously  determined,  "  Though  I  am  in  a  passion,  I 
will  make  no  noise  here.''  The  hiding-place  of  the 
famous  stone  was  soon  discovered,  and  Eobert  and  the 
monument  of  his  ancestor  upreared  their  heads  in  tri- 


1784-]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  I43 

umph  once  more.     Tliis  was  a  very  rare  instance  of  a 
gravestone  in  one  of  our  burying  grounds. 

In  the  year  1784  my  father  took  me  to  London,  to 
attend  the  yearly  meeting  of  Eriends.  While  there  we 
frequently  visited  Edmund  Burke,  and  at  his  house 
we  met  some  distinguished  characters.  Amongst  these 
were  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds  and  the  poet  Crabbe,  whom 
their  illustrious  host  had  purposely  invited  to  introduce 
to  them  his  old  companion  and  highly  esteemed  friend. 
It  was  his  practice  to  invite  some  of  the  superior  minds 
of  the  day  when  Eichard  Shackleton  was  in  London, 
knowing  how  pleasant  would  be  such  communion  to 
one  buried  in  a  secluded  village,  while  endowed  with  a 
refined  and  accomplished  taste.  Crabbe's  "  Village" 
had  just  then  been  published,  and  won  my  father's 
warm  admiration.  Well  do  I  recollect  the  modest  de- 
precating manner  of  the  gentle  poet,  when  my  father  in 
complimenting  him  said,  "  Goldsmith's  would  now 
indeed  be  the  Deserted  Village."  From  London  we 
went  by  earnest  invitation  to  Beaconsfield,  wliich  seemed 
to  me  a  paradise  on  earth.  I  shall  here  insert  part  of 
a  poem  written  after  my  return  home. 

BEACONSFIELD. 
All  hail,  ye  woods  in  deepest  gloom  arrayed  ! 
Admit  a  stranger  through  your  reverend  shade, 
With  timid  step  to  seek  the  fail*  retreat 
Where  virtue  and  where  genius  fix  their  seat  : 
In  vain  retiring  from  the  public  gaze, 
Not  deepest  shades  can  veil  so  bright  a  blaze. 


144  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1784. 

Lo  !  there  the  mansion  stands  in  princely  pride  ; 
The  beauteous  wings  extend  on  either  side  : 
Unsocial  pomp  flies  from  the  cheerful  gate, 
Where  hospitality  delights  to  wait ; 
A  brighter  grace  her  candid  smile  bestows 
Than  the  majestic  pillars'  comely  rows. 
Enter  these  ever  open  doors,  and  find 
All  that  can  strike  the  eye  or  charm  the  mind  ; 
Painting  and  sculpture  there  their  pride  display, 
And  splendid  chambers  decked  in  rich  array. 
But  these  are  not  the  honours  of  the  dome 
Where  Burke  resides  and  strangers  find  a  home, 
To  whose  glad  hearth  the  social  virtues  move, 
Paternal  fondness  and  connubial  love, 
Benevolence  unwearied,  friendship  true, 
And  wit  unforced,  and  converse  ever  new. 
Ye  cultured  walks  where  grace  and  beauty  dwell, 
Ye  humbler  scenes  of  rural  life,  farewell ! 
Mourn  not  your  shades  dishonovu-ed  by  my  praise, 
Your  shades  which  whilom  learned  far  other  lays  ; 
For  here  of  old,  yon  waving  woods  among, 
With  Waller's  strains  the  joyful  valleys  rung. 
Methinks  his  timeful  sprite  still  lingers  here. 
Still  loves  these  scenes  to  all  the  muses  dear  ; 
Still  the  dear  name  charms  with  delightful  sound, 
And  "  Edmund  !  Edmund  !"  echoes  all  around. 

And  thou,  the  master  of  this  fair  domain, 
Vouchsafe  t'  accept  this  tributary  strain. 
To  thee  the  muse  her  artless  song  commends. 
Nor  fears  the  fate  of  what  thy  smile  defends  : 
She  to  thy  friendship  dares  aspire,  'tis  true, 
And  claims  it  as  hereditary  due  ; 
Deem  not  base  flattery  framed  the  simple  lay, 
Nor  turn  thy  disapproving  ears  away  : 


1784-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  145 

Parental  cares  watched  o'er  my  growing  youth, 
And  early  stamped  it  with  the  love  of  truth  ; 
But  while  they  bade  my  words  and  thoughts  agree, 
They  bade  my  heart  to  love  and  honour  thee  ! 

The  following  is  the  letter  of  thanks  which  Edmund 
Burke  kindly  addressed  to  me  in  response  to  my 
poetical  tribute  : — 

EDMUND  BURKE  TO  MARY  SHACKLETON. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Shackleton, 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  suffered  myself  to 
"  remain  so  long  at  a  disadvantage  in  your  mind.  My 
"  fault  is  considerable  :  but  not  quite  so  great  as  it 
"  appears ;  for  your  letter  went  round  by  the  way  of 
"  Carlisle,  and  it  was  a  good  while  before  it  came  to 
"  my  hands.  It  ought  indeed  to  have  been  my  care 
"  to  have  made  the  earhest  possible  acknowledgment, 
"  where  nothing  more  was  required  ;  and  in  a  case 
"  where  indeed  there  was  little  more  in  my  power  to 
"  do  than  to  tell  you,  in  a  few  plain  and  sincere  words, 
"  how  extremely  sensible  I  was  of  the  honour  you  have 
"  done  me,  by  making  this  family  and  tliis  place  the 
"  subject  of  some  of  the  most  beautifid  and  most  origi- 
"  nal  verses  that  have  for  many  years  been  made  upon 
"  any  place  or  any  persons.  They  make  us  all  a  little 
"  the  more  fond  of  ourselves  and  of  our  situation.  For 
"  my  part  I  will  not  complain,  that  when  you  have 
"  drawn  a  beautiful  landscape,  you  have  put  an  old 
*•'  friend  of  your  father's  as  a  figure  in  the  foreground  ; 
"  nor  shall  I  pretend  that  I  am  not  pleased  even  with 


1^6  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^784- 

"  the  excess  of  jDartiality  whicli  has  made  him  an  object 
"  worthy  of  appearing  in  such  a  scene.  The  scene 
"  itself,  fine  as  it  is,  owes  much  to  the  imagination  and 
"  skill  of  the  painter ;  hut  the  figure  owes  all  to  it. 
"  You  great  artists  never  draw  what  is  before  you,  but 
"  improve  it  up  to  the  standard  of  perfection  in  your 
"  own  minds.  In  this  description  I  know  nothing  of 
"  myself ;  but  what  is  better,  and  may  be  of  more  use, 
"  I  know  what  a  good  judge  thinks  I  ought  to  be.  As 
"  to  your  picture  of  this  part  of  the  country,  I  cannot 
"  help  observing  that  there  is  not  the  least  of  common- 
"  place  in  it.  One  cannot  apply  it  equally  to  every 
"  countr}^,  as  most  things  of  this  kind  may  be  turned. 
"  It  is  i^articular  and  appropriate,  and  that  without 
"  being  minute  or  tedious  in  the  detail.  Indeed  it  is  a 
"  sweet  poem  ;  and  shows  a  mind  full  of  observation, 
'"  and  retentive  of  images  in  the  highest  degree.  Some 
"  of  the  lines  are  not  quite  so  finished  as  to  match  the 
*'  rest,  and  some  time  or  other  I  may  take  the  liberty 
"  of  pointing  them  out  to  you ;  and  some  of  the  rhymes 
"  hitch  upon  words  to  which  nothing,  not  even  you, 
"  can  give  grace.  But  these  are  lesser  blemishes,  and 
"  easily  efi"aced,  either  by  omission,  or  a  trivial  change. 
*'  You  will  excuse  this  freedom.  But  in  so  fine  a  poem, 
"  in  which  your  kindness  for  an  old  friend  of  your 
"  father  has  given  me  so  great  an  interest,  you  will 
"  naturally  expect  that  I  should  wish  for  the  perfection 
"  which  I  know  you  can  give  yow7"  work  with  a  little 
"  more  of  i/ou}-  care. 

"  Pray  excuse   this   very  late   and   very   imperfect 


1784.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I47 

"  acknowledgment  of  the  great  favour  you  have  done 
"  me.     I  cannot  plead  business  in  favour  of  my  delay. 
"  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  leisure  time.      At  the 
"  moment  I  ^vrite  this,  I  never  was  more  busy  in  my 
"  life  ;  and  indeed  thus  much  is  in  favour  of  activity 
"  and  occupation,  that  the  more  one  has  to  do,  the  more 
"  one  is  capable  of  doing,  even  beyond  our  du-ect  task. 
"I  am  ever,  with  Mrs.  Burke's,  my  brother's,  and 
"■  my  son's  most  affectionate  regards  to  you,  and  to  all 
"  Ballitore,  which  we  love  with  great  sincerity, 
"  My  dear  Miss  Shackleton, 
"  your  most  faithful 

"  and  most  obliged  and  obedient 
"  humble  servant,     . 

"Edmund  Burke. 
"  Beaconsfield,  Dec.  13th,  1784." 

On  receiving  the  above  letter,  I  penned  the  following 
stanza  : — 

If  I  am  vain,  this  letter  read, 
And  let  it  for  my  pardon  plead. 

When  he  whom  listening  courts  admire, 
A  senate's  boast,  a  nation's  pride, 

When  Burke  commends  my  artless  lyre, 
I  care  not  who  commends  beside  ; 
And  his  reproof  I  value  more 
Than  ere  I  valued  praise  before  ! 

After  leaving  Beaconsfield,  my  father  and  I  went 
to  a  far  different  scene,  and  amongst  singularly  differ- 
ent people — to  a  little  village  in  Yorkshire,  and  on  a 


148  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1/84' 

visit  to  some  very  primitive  relatives,  amongst  whom 
my  father  left  me  for  a  while.  Many  amusing  pas- 
sages occurred  during  my  stay.  Quite  regardless  of  my 
blushing  shamefacedness,  my  relations  invariably  intro- 
duced me  to  their  friends  as  "  Our  coosin  frae  Ireland 
that  maks  the  bonnie  verses;"  which  was  frequently 
followed  by  the  entreaty,  "  Say  some  of  them,  wilt 
thoo*?"  The  place  was  remarkably  secluded,  and  shut 
out  from  the  world.  Eetired  as  was  my  native  place, 
this  was  still  more  so ;  and  primitive  as  were  the  inha- 
bitants of  Ballitore,  they  were  fashionable  people  of  the 
world  compared  with  those  of  Selby.  The  "great 
hoose,"  where  the  squire  resided,  was  the  object  of 
their  exceeding  admiration,  and  my  relatives  were  most 
anxious  that  I  should  obtain  an  entrance,  yet  dubious 
whether  I  should  be  esteemed  worthy  of  an  invitation, 
although  the  owner  graciously  permitted  his  silver  coffee- 
pot to  be  sent  to  every  house  in  the  village  where  I  was 
entertained,  to  do  me  due  honour  as  a  visitor. 

At  length  the  much-coveted  invitation  came,  and, 
dressed  in  their  "  best  bra's,"  my  cousins  M^ent  with 
me  to  the  great  house.  There  I  saw  the  coffee-pot  at 
home,  with  its  grand  adjuncts  in  all  their  splendour. 
After  tea  was  over,  the  company  were  invited  to  ascend 
to  the  roof  of  the  house.  Upon  scrambling  out  upon 
the  leads,  we  found  chairs  placed  for  our  accommoda- 
tion, and  refreshments  were  handed  round.  Beneath  a 
broiling  sun  I  strove  to  admire  the  surrounding  land- 
scape, which  was  not  at  all  worth  the  toil  and  trouble 
we  endured.      At  length  the  silent,  stately  visit  was 


1784.]  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  i^p 

concluded,  and  we  were  permitted  to  descend  and  re- 
turn home  ;  but  all  through  the  remainder  of  my  stay 
this  evening  was  descanted  upon  by  my  cousins  with 
delight,  and  every  acquaintance  was  saluted  with, 
"  Dost  know  our  coosin  was  at  the  great  hoose  to  tak' 
tea?"  As  is  usual  in  that  part  of  England,  there  was 
in  the  dwelling  of  my  friends  one  large  apartment,  nei- 
ther parlour  nor  kitchen,  called  "  the  hoose,"  in  which 
the  family  usually  sat,  but  they  insisted  on  my  sittuig 
in  solitary  state  in  the  parlour.  On  First-days,  after 
meeting,  the  old  folk  sat  in  "  the  hoose,"  each  with  a 
Bible  in  hand,  reading  aloud  from  it,  while  the  daugh- 
ter read  in  her  Bible,  also  aloud  ;  and,  peering  over  my 
shoulder,  stood  the  son  behind  my  chair,  reading  aloud 
from  the  Bible  which  I  was  silently  studying.  No 
two  of  the  readers,  except  myself  and  my  companion, 
were  perusing  the  same  part  of  the  sacred  volume. 
Yet,  notwithstanding  their  peculiarities,  I  was  happy 
in  the  warm  affection  of  these  simple  people,  and 
always  remembered  this  visit  to  England  as  some  of 
the  golden  days  of  my  youth  :  Beaconsfield  and  Selby 
were  both  so  interestmg  and  so  different. 

During  the  winter  of  1784  a  frost  set  in,  and  con- 
tinued so  hard  for  some  weeks,  that  an  American  visitor 
said  it  equalled  the  cold  of  his  native  country.  One 
night  my  mother  heard  a  crackling  noise  in  her  room, 
and  in  the  morning  found  her  water-jugs  fallen  to 
pieces,  but  their  shape  remaining  in  solid  ice.  We 
were  in  the  midst  of  this  frost  and  snow,  when  a  young 
stranger  hastily  entered  the  parlour ;  he  looked  round 


I^O  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1784'. 

— fastened  his  ardent  black  eyes  first  upon  one,  then 
on  another,  with  a  mingled  expression  of  anxiety  and 
pleasure,  as  he  exclaimed,  "  Don't  you  know  me  ? — 
Don't  you  know  me  1 — Don't  you  know  Tom  Eyre  V 
The  exclamations  and  warm  welcomes  which  succeeded 
soon  convinced  him  that  he  had  found  again  the  same 
friends  he  had  left.  Ten  years  had  made  much  altera- 
tion in  his  person,  and  the  deep  tinge  which  his  face 
and  hands  had  acquired  from  foreign  suns  and  foreign 
gales,  formed  a  striking  contrast  with  the  original 
whiteness  of  liis  skin  when  he  drew  up  his  shirt  sleeve 
to  display  it.  He  had  indeed  grown  a  fine  young  man, 
and  his  manners  without  having  lost  their  originality 
had  received  from  intercourse  with  the  world  a  pleasing 
polish.  When  the  first  ferment  of  our  joy  at  seeing 
our  friend  had  in  some  degree  subsided,  it  was  but 
natural  to  look  for  another.  "  Where  is  Sam  ? — 
shall  we  not  see  him  also  V  Then  it  was  that  a 
(doud  passed  over  his  countenance,  and  his  trembling 
accents  became  full  of  sorrow  as  he  said,  "  I  expected 
to  have  met  Sam  in  Ireland — but  Sam  is  dead — and 
all  the  world  is  now  alike  to  me."  "  Sam  dead  !  Our 
dear  Sam ;  so  good,  so  beautiful,  so  beloved.  When, 
where,  and  how  did  he  die  V  "  He  died  as  he  was 
just  about  to  return  home,  and  he  died  of  a  broken 
heart  !'^ 

Then  followed  the  sad  story.  Sam  was  running  on 
fast  in  the  career  of  naval  glory — had  attained,  by  his 
dauntless  bravery,  the  rank  of  first  lieutenant  of  a 
man-of-war,    and  with  a  handful  of  men  had  taken 


1784.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I51 

possession  of  a  fortified  place  of  strength,  the  name 
of  which  has  escaped  my  memory.  The  governor 
requested  some  indulgence,  which  the  generous  and 
unsuspicious  young  warrior,  incapable  himself  of  treach- 
ery, readily  granted, — but  he  had  not  to  do  with  such 
a  mind  as  his  own.  The  governor  availed  liimself  of 
this  indulgence,  and  secretly  delivered  up  the  place  to 
the  East  India  Company.  The  gallant  youth,  thus 
traitorously  robbed  of  fame  and  fortune,  when  he  was 
on  the  point  of  returning  home,  crowned  with  both,  to 
the  embraces  of  his  brother,  sunk  beneath  the  cruel 
blow  and  the  weight  of  disappointment.  A  burning 
fever  seized  him,  he  struggled  against  it,  held  to  his 
post  on  ship-board,  and  died  in  his  clothes.  He  died 
at  Calcutta,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  !  "  If  amongst 
the  many  officers  who  laid  down  their  lives  in  this 
war,"  said  poor  Tom,  "  there  are  any  who  have  gone  to 
heaven,  surely  my  brother  Sam  is  one  of  them  !"  In 
every  turn  of  events,  great  or  small,  the  idea  of  his 
darling  Sam  seemed  to  pervade  his  brother's  mind. 
While  he  was  with  us,  a  child  died  in  the  village.  I 
asked  Tom,  whose  medical  skill  was  considerable,  to 
accompany  me  to  see  the  infant,  hoping  that  tlie  vital 
faculties  were  but  suspended.  He  went  with  me,  and 
I  asked  him  could  he  do  anything  for  it.  ''  No,"  he 
replied,  "unless  I  can  bring  the  dead  to  life,  and  if 
I  could  do  that,  I  would  fly  to  the  East  Indies  to 
restore  my  poor  Sam  !" 

He   dwelt   much   on    the   subject   of  his   brother's 
valour,  and  this  dear  brother  had  by  letter  informed 


1^152  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1/84. 

me  of  Tom's,  particularly  at  the  battle  of  Long  Island. 
Tom,  whose  courage  was  sincere,  and  therefore  unsullied 
by  boasting,  made  little  account  of  his  own  exploits, 
but  declared  his  forlorn  situation  was  the  cause  of  his 
promotion  ;  for  having  neither  money,  friends,  nor  in- 
terest, he  could  not,  as  the  other  volunteers  did,  go  into 
winter  quarters,  and  as  he  continually  followed  the  army, 
his  name  was  returned  every  month  to  General  Howe 
amongst  the  men  fit  for  duty.  He  endured  all  the 
hardships  of  a  common  soldier,  and  without  pay,  which 
he  would  not  accept  until  he  earned  a  commission  ;  he 
was  therefore  not  so  much  under  the  control  of  the 
officers,  and  was  at  liberty,  as  a  volunteer,  to  change 
from  one  corps  to  another  if  he  deemed  himself  badly 
treated,  for  his  high  spirit  could  not  brook  an  affront. 
After  escaping  many  dangers  he  was  taken  prisoner  by 
the  Americans,  and  hurried  from  place  to  place,  worn 
out  by  fatigue,  and  by  the  dispiriting  thought  that 
he  was  now  forgotten  by  the  British  general,  forlorn, 
friendless,  a  prisoner  !  In  this  situation  he  learned  by 
accident  that  fortune  and  his  general  had  remembered 
him,  and  that  he  was  appointed  second  lieutenant  in 
the  23rd  regiment.  Soon  after,  the  general  sent  him 
thirty  guineas,  he  bought  a  horse,  and  made  his  escape 
to  the  English  army  then  quartered  at  Philadelphia  ; 
but  was  not  permitted  to  join  his  regiment  until  his 
general  received  assurance  from  the  enemy  that  he 
had  not  broken  his  parol.  I  believe  Tom  Eyre  would 
have  found  it  a  far  easier  thing  to  die  than  to  break 
his  word  of  honour. 


1784-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1^^ 

He  served  four  months  in  the  fleet  and  obtained 
prize  money,  which  enabled  him  to  purchase  a  first 
lieutenancy  in  the  35th  regiment.  After  the  conquest 
of  St.  Lucia,  wliich  he  represented  as  an  extraordinary 
feat  of  valour,  he  was  stationed  there.  He  called  it 
"  a  dungeon  in  hell,"  and  said  the  plagues  of  Egypt 
were  not  to  be  compared  to  the  sufferings  they  endured 
there.  His  health,  which  had  supported  him  under 
all  his  toils  and  hardships,  forsook  him.  He  saw  his 
brother  soldiers  droop  and  die  around  him,  victims  to 
the  fatal  climate,  and  amongst  them  Eupert  Preston 
Yallancey,  his  quondam  schoolfellow,  who  however  did 
not  appear  to  recollect  him ;  "  But,"  said  he,  "  the 
land-crabs  soon  had  him."  "  Land-crabs  !"  we  asked, 
"  what  are  they  1"  "  Crabs  which  burrow  in  deep 
"  holes  in  the  earth  and  feed  on  the  dead  ;  they  fattened 
"  prodigiously  after  we  were  stationed  at  St.  Lucia." 
"This  remark  impHes  that  you  have  been  reduced 
"  to  eat  them  !  Can  it  be  possible  f  Alas,  it  was  pos- 
sible, for  the  evils  of  pestilence  were  aggTavated  by 
those  of  famme.  The  large  and  poisonous  reptiles 
which  infested  this  marshy,  woody  island  were  another 
source  of  dismay,  especially  as  the  dog-headed  snake, 
twenty-two  feet  long,  had  caused  the  death  of  two  of 
the  soldiers  by  its  venomous  bite.  Alligators  eighteen 
feet  long,  and  bats  whose  spread  wings  were  as  wide 
as  his  extended  arms,  made  a  dreadful  variety.  A 
hurricane  came,  of  which  he  could  find  no  words  to 
give  us  an  adequate  idea,  but  after  its  fearful  violence 
had  subsided  the  air  was  clearer  and  the  island  more 


154  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^784. 

healtliful.  While  at  St.  Lucia  he  chanced  to  meet  with 
several  Ballitore  boys,  and  although  they  had  not  been 
cotemporaries,  they  hailed  one  another  as  brothers.  He 
endured  this  dreadful  climate  for  five  years,  and  was 
sick  for  ten  months,  when  at  length  he  got  leave  of  ab- 
sence. The  island  of  Barbadoes  he  called  "  divine,"  be- 
ing beautifully  planted  with  cocoa  trees,  and  the  scenery 
diversified  with  hills,  viewed  from  which  the  surround- 
ing sea  enriched  the  landscape.  But  England  was  more 
congenial  to  his  heart,  and  Ireland  was  dearest  of  all. 
The  temperate  climate,  the  commodious  dwellings,  and 
the  beauty  of  the  rural  damsels,  whom  he  declared  to  be 
"  fair  and  sweet  as  the  daisy,  and  as  innocent,"  refresh- 
ed his  mind,  wearied  with  the  ardors  of  the  torrid  zone. 
The  loss  of  America  was  a  subject  on  which  he 
could  not  speak  with  patience  :  he  insisted  that  the 
British  army  were  able  to  conquer  the  Americans,  and 
they  would  have  done  so  had  not  General  Howe  been  re- 
strained by  orders  from  home,  where  they  knew  nothing 
about  it.  He  was  provoked  beyond  all  patience  at  those 
fellows,  "  with  their  big  wigs  and  enjoying  their  ease," 
presuming  to  direct  the  brave  soldiers.  "America," 
said  he,  while  indignation  flashed  from  his  eyes,  "Ame- 
rica is  manured  with  the  blood  of  our  noble  fellows? 
and  we  have  lost  it !"  His  description  of  the  wasting 
march  of  their  army,  plundering  the  houses,  dislodging 
the  families,  and  then  burning  the  dwellings,  was 
heart-rending.  Then  he  told  of  the  excitement  which 
urges  on  the  heat  of  the  battle ;  how  rage  subsides 
when  the  fight  is  over,  and  both  parties  engage  indis- 


1784.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.  155 

criminately  in  rendering  tlie  offices  of  humanity  to  the 
wounded :  how  treacherous  and  vindictive  an  enemy 
the  Americans  were,  and  how  generous  and  gallant  the 
French ;  how  dreadful  the  taking  of  New  York  was 
made  by  the  Americans  setting  it  on  fire,  and  what 
care  the  English  took  to  protect  the  inhabitants  and 
to  prevent  plunder  in  a  captured  town.  All  these  topics 
were  as  interesting  as  they  were  terrible.  Poor  Tom 
Eyre  did  not  pause  to  consider  that  the  Americans 
were  the  party  aggrieved,  and  that  the  French  were 
not  fighting  for  their  OM^n  freedom. 

But  it  was  not  without  much  effort  and  dexterous 
management  that  I  could  prevail  upon  Tom  to  give 
anything  like  a  regular  series  of  his  adventures,  for  every 
now  and  then  the  recollection  of  some  old  acquaint- 
ance would  dart  across  his  mind,  and  break  the  thread 
of  his  narrative — a  narrative  rendered  intensely  fasci- 
nating by  the  enthusiasm  and  glowing  warmth  with 
which  he  identified  himself  with  the  details,  by  the 
simplicity  of  his  manner,  and  the  total  absence  of  self- 
praise.  Once,  w^hen  he  had  my  whole  soul  thrilling 
with  interest,  he  suddenly  stoi)ped,  and  then  uttered 
a  passionate  wish  to  see  the  old  stone  wliich  stood  at 
the  corner  of  our  Burrow  gate.  The  famous  treaty- 
stone  in  the  city  of  Limerick  could  not  have  created  a 
keener  interest  in  the  lovers  of  historical  relics,  than 
did  tliis  unrecorded  one  in  the  afiectionate  memory  of 
Tom  Eyre. 

Several  alterations  and  improvements  had  been  made 
in  the  old  mansion  and  grounds  since  he  left  Ballitore. 


1^6  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1784- 

The  vest  of  winter  was  at  this  time  spread  over  the 
fields  ;  had  they  been  decked  in  the  pride  of  summer, 
they  coukl  not  have  found  favour  in  his  eyes.  He 
bitterly  regretted  the  changes  in  the  house,  declaring 
they  made  no  improvement.  Every  thing  in  Ballitore 
appeared  to  him  to  be  on  a  smaller  scale  than  formerly. 
This  natural  sensation  is  easily  explained.  Children 
measure  objects  by  their  own  size  and  experience, 
which  increase  with  years,  while  the  objects  remain 
the  same. 

He  told  us  he  had  written  several  letters  to  us  from 
America  :  these  had  never  come  to  hand.  He  brought 
one  which  he  had  written  to  his  friend  "  Peggy,"  and 
which  he  had  not  been  able  to  forward.  Tom  had 
brought  a  dog  with  him  from  the  West  Indies,  for  he 
must  have  something  to  love  and  to  be  kind  to  ;  he 
called  him  "  Choque."  We  had  a  black  cat,  which 
would  have  been  accused  of  witchcraft  had  she  lived 
in  the  last  century,  for  she  knew  how  to  open  the  doors, 
and  would  enter  the  parlour  with  demure  pace  when 
least  expected.  She  kept  entirely  out  of  the  place 
whenever  a  friend  of  ours  who  had  an  antipathy  to  cats 
visited  us  ;  she  murdered  one  rival,  and,  on  the  intro- 
duction of  another,  finally  disappeared.  This  black  cat 
and  Choque  engaged  in  a  furious  combat.  They  were 
with  difficulty  separated,  and  the  cat  vanished.  A 
year  afterwards  Choque  attended  his  master  again  to 
Ballitore  ;  immediately  on  entering  the  parlour,  the 
battle  was  recommenced  with  as  much  spirit  as  though 
they  had  been  parted  but  a  moment  before  ;  and  again 


1784.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I57 

the  poor  cat  vanished  during  the  stay  of  the  obnoxious 
visitors. 

When  Tom  Eyre  took  his  leave  he  brought  me  two 
letters,  which  were  all  that  the  vicissitudes  of  war  had 
permitted  him  to  receive  from  his  brother  Sam.  "  Take 
"  these,"  said  he  impressively;  "these  are  all  of  Sam 
"  which  remains  to  me.  In  the  hurricane  of  St.  Lucia 
"  I  preserved  these,  my  commission,  and  my  letters  to 
"  Peggy.  I  preserved  nothing  else — nothing  in  the 
"  world.  Take  these  letters ;  keep  them  safe  for  me  ;  I 
"  am  afraid  I  cannot  take  proper  care  of  them  !"  I 
received  the  precious  deposit,  and  seven  years  afterwards 
I  resigned  the  packet  to  Tom's  wife,  Theodosia  Eyre. 
With  Tom's  permission  I  made  extracts  from  those  let- 
ters, for  I  feared  too  frequent  handling  of  them  would 
injure  them.  At  the  close  of  one  he  transmits  to  his 
brother  the  salutary  counsel  which  he  had  received 
from  their  old  master,  desirous  that  he  too  should  reap 
advantage  from  it.  "A  military  person  ought  above 
"  all  to  be  distinguished  for  his  piety.  Marshal  Turenne 
"  of  France  and  Colonel  Gardiner  of  England  were  as 
"  famous  for  their  attention  to  the  duties  of  their  church 
"  and  their  duty  to  their  Creator,  as  they  were  renowned 
"  for  their  courage  in  the  service  of  their  king  and 
"  country.  Keep  such  bright  models  of  imitation  before 
"  thy  eyes,  and  never  be  ashamed  to  be  religious."  Sam's 
second  letter  concludes  thus  :  "  Success  and  happiness 
"  attend  the  British  arms  !  From  my  heart  I  pray  it ; 
"  but  with  greater  fervency,  I  must  confess,  I  earnestly 
"  beseech  the  Giver  of  all  good  things  to  heap  his  bless- 


158  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORB.  [^784. 

"  ings  on  you  in  particular.  Farewell,  my  dearest  bro- 
"  ther,  and  if  this  should  be  the  last  letter  you  receive 
"  from  me,  don't  be  afraid  ;  if  you  should  never  see  me 
"  here  again,  do  not  grieve  for  me,  but  hope  with  me 
"  that  once  more  we  may  meet  from  whence  we  shall 
"  never  part.  And,  dear,  dear  Tom,  do,  and  I  hope  I ' 
"  shall,  endeavour  that  our  meeting  shall  be  as  happy 
"  a  one  as  it  will  be  perpetual.  Farewell,  dear  Tom  ; 
"  once  more  farewell,  my  brother  !  May  God  bless  you, 
"  is  the  sincere  prayer  of  your  truly  loving  brother." 
This  was  indeed  the  last  letter  Tom  received  from  his 
beloved  brother,  nor  did  they  ever  meet  again  in  this 
world.  0  war  !  relentless  and  destructive  !  How  many 
noble  victims  have  been  sacrificed  at  thy  shrine  ! 

Tom  Eyre  never  seemed  able  to  comprehend  the  sci- 
ence of  etiquette.  On  meeting  an  old  acquaintance  in 
one  of  the  busiest  streets  of  Dublin,  he  flung  decorum 
to  the  winds,  and,  yielding  to  his  emotions  of  delight, 
he  folded  his  friend  in  his  arms,  repeatedly  kissing  him, 
and  uttering  exclamations  of  joy,  to  the  no  small  amuse- 
ment of  the  passers-by.  Meeting  my  mother  and  an- 
other equally  "  plain  "  friend  walking  together  in  Dub- 
lin, he  requested  that  they  would  each  take  an  arm,  and 
permit  him  to  escort  them.  My  mother  declined  his 
assistance,  explaining  to  him  that  the  striking  contrast 
between  their  singular  attire  and  simple  appearance  and 
those  of  a  young  officer  dressed  in  his  full  regimentals 
would  expose  them  to  ridicule.  Tom  complained  loudly 
and  bitterly  that  his  regimental  coat  should  be  the 
means  of  preventing  him  from  walking  with  his  "  old 


1784-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I59 

mistress/'  and  declared  he  would  never  wear  it  again  in 
lier  company. 

Peace  was  now  proclaimed  (1784),  and  the  many- 
young  officers  with  their  sunburnt  complexions  and 
foreign  accents  whom  we  continually  saw  in  the  streets 
of  the  metropolis,  formed  an  interesting  spectacle.  Our 
poor  Tom  had  only  got  leave  of  absence  on  account  of 
his  health,  and  was  to  rejoin  Ms  regiment  at  Grenada, 
where  he  expected  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  sultry  clime. 
The  pleasure  of  preventing  such  a  disaster  was  reserved 
for  his  old  friend.  When  I  accompanied  my  father  to 
visit  Edmund  Burke,  I  mentioned  the  circumstance  to 
him.  His  brother,  Richard  Burke,  who  had  once  been 
Governor  of  Grenada,  got  a  memorandum  from  me  of 
the  name,  rank,  and  regiment  of  Tom  Eyre,  and  pro- 
mised to  try  if  he  had  interest  sufficient  to  procure  for 
him  a  longer  furlough.  I  did  not  know  how  far  my 
apphcation  had  succeeded,  but  heard  that  my  friend 
was  still  in  Ireland.  When  I  next  saw  him  he  told  me 
his  pay  had  been  stopped  for  four  months,  and  he  had 
received  orders  to  join  his  regiment  without  delay,  when 
all  of  a  sudden,  to  his  great  surprise,  those  orders  were 
revoked,  his  pay  restored,  and  a  furlough  for  six  months 
longer  granted,  at  which  time  his  regiment  was  expected 
to  return.  He  could  not  tell  by  Avhat  means  this  favor 
had  been  granted,  and,  when  I  told  him,  it  did  not  les- 
sen his  satisfaction,  nor  did  I  think  him  less  grateful 
because  he  expressed  no  surprise,  but  appeared  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  service  which  a  sister  might  and  ought  to 
render  to  a  brother. 


l6o  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^7^4- 

Shortly  after  having  become  a  captain,  he  introduced 
his  wife  to  us,  on  their  way  to  their  quarters  at  Clonmel, 
where  he  rejoiced  in  the  society  of  his  old  friend,  my 
sister  Grubb,  and  her  family.  His  Avife  was  a  very 
little  woman,  a  native  of  England ;  he  told  us  she  was 
very  amiable,  but  she  had  little  opportunity  of  display, 
for  her  husband  scarce  ceased  talking  of  old  adventures, 
admiring  old  scenes,  and  reprobating  new.  He  sought 
his  brother  Xed's  grave  in  our  little  enclosure.  He 
kissed  httle  George  Shackleton,  and  declared  he  had 
his  brother  Sam's  innocent  smile ;  and  he  confessed 
that  he  had  wept  for  his  favourite  dog  Cheque,  whose 
attachment  to  his  master,  whom  he  followed  to  too 
great  a  distance,  caused  his  death. 

John  St.  Clair  was  amongst  those  who  returned  home 
at  the  end  of  the  war.  As  we  had  heard  he  was  dead* 
my  father  was  pleasantly  surprised  by  meeting  his  old 
pupil.  Some  months  afterwards,  my  father,  sister,  and 
I  being  in  Mountmellick,  and  learning  that  St.  Clair 
was  lying  very  ill  at  the  lodgings  of  his  father,  whose 
regiment  was  stationed  in  that  town,  we  called  to  en- 
quire for  him.  His  father  received  us  affectionately, 
and,  telling  us  we  should  grieve  to  see  his  son's  situa- 
tion, led  us  to  him.  The  physician  of  the  town  and 
the  surgeon  of  his  father's  regiment  wxre  in  the  sick 
room,  his  sister  was  there  also,  and  in  an  easy  chair  sat 
our  poor  St.  Clair,  far  gone  in  consumption,  and  exceed- 
ingly weak.  He  was  unable  to  rise  to  meet  us,  but, 
while  he  gave  us  his  poor  emaciated  trembling  hand, 
his  sunken  eye  became  enlivened,  and  his  wan,  hollow 


1784.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  161 

cheek  disj^layed  the  dimples  which  used  to  adorn  it 
when  it  was  plump  and  ruddy.  His  voice  was  very 
low,  yet  he  talked  a  good  deal.  He  praised  America, 
its  climate,  and  the  situation  of  the  inhabitants  before 
the  war;  he  lamented  the  measures  which  had  been 
pursued,  but  did  not  inveigh  against  the  Americans  as 
Tom  .Eyre  had  done.  He  had  not  smarted  like  poor 
Tom  under  the  sufferings  of  war ;  his  hardships  were 
caused  by  returning  home  in  a  leaky  vessel,  in  which 
he  was  near  suffering  shipwreck,  and  wet  and  fatigue 
laid  the  foundation  of  his  present  illness.  He  informed 
us  that  he  was  a  captain  of  foot  in  a  new  regiment, 
which,  being  reduced,  he  was  then  on  half-pay.  But 
his  favorite  topic  was  Ballitore,  every  stick  and  stone 
about  which  he  seemed  to  remember.  Many  a  juvenile 
adventure  he  recalled ;  his  flute,  his  schoolfellows,  our 
favorite  walks  were  all  tallied  of,  and  sickness  and 
dejection  were  forgotten.  The  army  surgeon  said  jo- 
cosely he  now  saw  the  reason  of  St.  Clair's  attachment 
to  the  Quakers ;  but  this  was  no  time  for  jocularity. 
The  distressed  father  cast  mournful  looks  alternately 
upon  his  son  and  upon  us  ;  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hand,  and  his  tears  fell  upon  the  table  on  which  he 
leaned.  Several  times  he  left  the  room,  being  unable 
to  remain  and  witness  his  dying  son's  delight  in  recall- 
ing the  days  of  his  childhood ;  and  when,  at  parting, 
my  father  expressed  his  wishes  for  his  son's  restoration, 
he  could  not  utter  a  word.  His  sister  took  less  pains 
to  conceal  her  feelings  ;  her  apron  was  sprinkled  with 
the  tears  which  streamed  down  her  face.     Ours  we  sup- 


1 62  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  L^7^4» 

pressed,  tlioiigli  it  would  have  been  luxury  to  indulge 
them,  for  I  thought  I  never  had  witnessed  a  scene  so 
affecting.  This  interview  so  revived  poor  St.  Clair's 
spirits,  that  he  seemed  much  better,  and  declared  his 
hope  of  perfect  recovery  if  he  were  once  more  under 
his  old  mistress's  care.  Accordingly  it  was  so  arranged, 
and  he  cherished  the  hope  of  coming  to  us  ;  and  even 
his  ravings  were  of  Ballitore.  Soon — ah  !  very  soon — 
a  letter  reached  me  from  his  father  informing  me  of  his 
death.  He  added  :  "  The  principles  established  under 
"  your  good  father  give  me  every  reason  to  hope  he 
"  has  exchanged  for  the  better ;  but  it  requires  more 
"  fortitude  than  I  am  possessed  of  to  stand  this  shock 
"  as  I  ought  to  do." 

Poor  young  St.  Clair  had  told  me  he  did  not  prefer 
a  military  hfe,  but  his  father,  thinking,  I  suj^pose,  that 
Ids  advancement  in  the  world  would  be  more  speedy  by 
placing  him  in  the  army,  procured  him  a  commission, 
and  sent  him  to  join  the  troops  in  America.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  his  bemg  thus  the  remote  cause 
of  his  son's  death  preyed  upon  the  poor  man's  heart, 
and  urged  him  to  commit  the  deed  of  desperation  by 
which  he  put  a  period  to  his  own  existence  about  six 
months  after  the  death  of  his  son. 

Meeting  thus  with  my  old  schoolfellows  after  long 
separation  aroused  new  sensations  in  my  lieart.  There 
was  a  satisfaction  mingled  with  the  pain  of  beholding 
poor  St.  Clair;  and  the  lively  pleasure  which  Tom  Eyre's 
return  occasioned  was  tinged  with  a  pensive  shadow ; 
for,  besides  his  being  unaccompanied  by  our  precious 


I  7  84. J  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1  63 

Sam,  there  were  many  sad  ideas  awakened, — of  the 
memory  of  departed  friends,  of  terror  at  the  dangers 
he  had  escaped,  and  apprehension  of  those  which  still 
awaited  him.     We  might  almost  literally  say, 

We  twa  hae  paidlet  i'  the  bum 

Frae  mornin'  sun  'till  dine, 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd 

Sin  avdd  lang  syne  ! 


1 64 


CHAPTEK  VL 

1784. 

Heavenly  music. — Death  of  Jonathan  and  Elizabeth  Haughton. 
— The  lunatic  cousins. — Heminiscences  of  Burke  and  his  last 
visit  to  BalHtore. — A  dinner  at  Lord  Aldborough's. — Squire 
Keatinge's  noble  bride. — A  domestic  tragedy.- — Finlay  McClane 
the  Highland  centenarian. — Alterations  in  the  Mill-field. — 
Death  of  a  schoolboy  and  of  old  William  Gill. — A  mother's 
grief. — Sally  Shackleton  a  minister. — Death-bed  of  Sally 
Haughton. — A  surgical  shoemaker. — Conformity  to  Quaker- 
ism.— Joshua  and  Molly  Webster. — Cousin  Sam  Carleton. — 
James  Mc  Connaughty  fails  in  business.- — A  friend  in  need. — 
Nanny  sees  her  husband's  fetch. — His  death  ensues,  and  her 
bitter  grief. — She  returns  to  service,  and  ends  her  days  in 
peace  __         __         __         __         __         __     1 64  to  191 

nPHIS  year  the  small-pox  deprived  my  brother  and 
sister  Chandlee  of  their  fine  little  Betsy.  My 
mother,  who  seemed  born  to  sympathise  and  to  comfort, 
was  not  absent  from  her  daughter  at  this  trying  time. 
She  was  awakened  at  seven  one  morning  by  the  sound  of 
sweet  soft  music.  She  knew  it  was  no  mortal  harmony 
and  it  seemed  to  her  the  song  of  an  ascending  spirit. 
Perhaps  it  was  so,  for  her  little  grand-daughter  expired 
at  that  moment.  My  mother  was  very  free  from  belief 
in  preternatural  occurrences,  yet  tliis  and  the  following 


1 


1785.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1 65 

circumstances  of  a  similar  character  made  an  impression 
upon  her  mind  which  no  reasoning  from  natural  causes 
could  remove. 

Death  now  prepared  an  arrow  destined  deeply  to 
wound  all  our  hearts,  and  to  sever  the  endearing  tie 
which  bound  Jonathan  Haughton  to  his  family.  He 
took  ill  of  a  low  fever,  and  the  symptoms  soon  became 
alarming.  0,  how  loth  were  we  to  resign  our  kind- 
hearted  neighbour,  our  dear,  engaging  friend  !  And 
with  what  horror  and  anguish  did  his  children  antici- 
pate the  loss  of  such  a  father  !  All  Ballitore  was  sad  ; 
the  hours,  dark  with  the  gloom  of  suspense,  rolled  on, 
and  the  eleventh  day  of  the  fever  arrived.  It  was  a 
dreadful  crisis,  and  nature  sank.  His  daughters  Han- 
nah and  Sally  were  beside  him,  watching  and  endea- 
vouring to  alleviate  the  last  struggles,  when  a  solemn 
sound  of  exquisite  sweetness  suspended  their  agonies 
and  repressed  their  tears,  and  the  gentle  spirit  then 
departed.  Whether  this  seemingly  preternatural  cir- 
cumstance was  permitted  in  order  to  console  the  sur- 
vivors is  a  mystery  into  which  I  may  not  pry. 

Jonathan  Haughton  died  the  25th  of  the  Eightli 
month,  1785,  the  day  twelvemonth  that  AnnaTaverner's 
return  to  it  as  an  inmate  had  diffused  such  joy  through 
that  house,  now  the  house  of  mourning.  The  sweet 
sympathy  of  such  a  friend  was  felt  to  be  a  blessing ; 
and  time,  which  could  never  obliterate  the  image  of 
their  dying  father,  assuaged  those  feelings  whose  vio- 
lence would  otherwise  have  destroyed  those  who  pos- 
sessed tliem. 


1 66  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  [^7^5- 

One  of  the  tenderest  of  fathers  to  all  his  children, 
they  believed  without  jealousy  that  Debby  had  the 
strongest  hold  on  his  affections.  Her  health  had  begun 
to  fluctuate  before  this  event ;  from  this  time  it  evi- 
dently declined,  and  the  loss  of  her  father  seemed  to 
sink  deeper  and  deeper.  Her  dreams  presented  his 
gracious  form  coming  to  reheve  her  from  distress  ;  and 
often,  her  waking  thoughts  representing  his  death  as  an 
illusion,  she  fancied  he  was  only  from  home,  and 
thought  of  preparing  for  his  return.  The  tenderness 
of  her  sisters  spared  her  much  exertion,  and  the  lan- 
guor of  declining  health  disposed  her  yet  more  to  in- 
dulge in  melancholy  reflections. 

Their  aunt  Elizabeth  Haughton,  after  having  assisted 
a  while  in  the  care  of  my  brother's  family,  much  be- 
loved and  respected  by  the  master  and  mistress  and 
their  household,  retired  from  the  bustling  scene  to  the 
family  of  Jonathan  Haughton.  Here  a  consumptive 
disorder,  wliich  she  imputed  to  cold  caught  in  a  sum- 
mer shower,  seized  upon  her,  and  its  slow  and  certain 
progress  baffled  the  affectionate,  attentive  care  of  the 
family.  Her  last  exertion  was  to  repay  the  kindness 
of  her  brother-in-law  by  her  offices  of  love  and  assist- 
ance in  his  last  illness.  She  was  remarkable  for  her 
tenderness  to  the  sick  or  distressed,  and  she  experi- 
enced on  her  own  dying  bed  those  kind  attentions 
which  she  was  wont  to  administer.  She  mentioned  to 
my  mother  her  belief  that  she  had  worn  out  her  con- 
stitution by  using  more  exertion  than  she  was  equal  to, 
or  than  was  required  of  her ;  which  she  acknowledged 


1785.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1 67 

to  be  wrong.  She  was  often  tried  with  great  poverty 
and  depression  of  spirit ;  but  at  the  last  was  favoured 
with  a  sweet  peaceful  calm  for  wliicli  she  expressed 
her  thankfulness,  as  also  her  admiration  that  it  should 
be  granted  to  her  mind,  which  was  wont  to  be  so 
tossed.  But  the  sincerity  of  her  heart  was  known  to 
Him  who  rewarded  it. 

We  were  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Murray  Kathrens, 
one  of  my  father's  former  pupils.  As  it  was  not  unu- 
sual for  him  to  call  to  see  us,  our  surprise  was  occa- 
sioned only  by  the  great  alteration  which  appeared  in 
his  countenance.  He  who  always  looked  as  if  he  was 
stifling  a  laugh,  and  seldom  spoke  but  to  excite  one,  now 
exhibited  a  picture  of  deep  melancholy.  An  unfortu- 
nate change  in  his  circumstances  had  taken  place  ;  but 
it  is  likely  his  exertions  would  have  restored  them  to  a 
prosperous  condition,  had  not  his  mental  faculties  fallen 
a  sacrifice  to  his  misfortunes.  We  Avere  soon  sensible 
that  the  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason  was  dethroned 
and  deeply  lamented  that  grievous  calamity.  Our  poor 
friend  now  talked  of  becoming  a  Quaker ;  now  believed 
it  his  duty  to  inspect  prisons  as  Howard  was  doing; 
and  now,  in  agony  of  distress,  and  with  a  ilood  of  tears, 
exclaimed,  "  0,  the  feelings  of  a  husband  and  a  father!" 
Goodnature  survived  the  wreck  of  intellect  ;  hearing 
that  Abby  Widdows'  affairs  were  embarrassed,  and  her 
spirits  depressed,  he  paid  her  a  visit,  and  endea\^oured 
to  comfort  and  advise  her.  The  conversation  of  my 
mother  had  a  soothing  effect  upon  him,  and  now  and 
then  throuft'h  the  <Aoom  of  his  mind  some  flashes  of  his 


1 68  THE  ANXALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [^7^^- 

native  humour  appeared ;  lie  recalled  some  of  his  early- 
adventures,  and  reminded  my  mother  of  her  vain  at- 
tempts to  improve  his  brown  complexion  by  washing 
him  with  tansy  and  buttermilk.  Again  the  clouds 
gathered  and  all  was  dark.  His  friends  placed  him  in 
Swift's  hospital  for  lunatics,  where  he  lived  several 
years,  but  never  recovered  his  reason. 

A  few  months  after  this  visit  from  poor  Murray,  his 
cousin,  George  Kathrens,  who  had  also  received  his 
education  here,  surprised  us  as  much  as  Murray  had 
done.  We  knew  liim  to  have  been  a  respectable  citi- 
zen, and  were  shocked  to  hear  him  asking  pecuniary 
rehef ;  but  these  feelings  were  changed  to  others  not 
less  painful,  when  we  found  that  embarrassed  circum- 
stances had  subverted  his  reason  also,  and  that  he  had 
just  escaped  from  a  place  of  confinement.  His  insanity 
was  of  a  different  kind  from  his  cousin's;  he  was  merry, 
exulted  in  his  escaj^e,  made  verses,  and  said  he  was 
taught  this  art  by  the  fairies,  who  cheered  him  with 
their  songs,  and  in  whose  society  he  was  very  happy. 
He  was  brought  back  to  Dublin,  but  soon  broke  loose 
from  confinement,  and  his  heart,  true  to  the  remem- 
brance of  his  happy  childhood,  again  impelled  him 
to  Eallitore,  where,  complaining  bitterly  to  his  old 
friends  of  the  harsh  treatment  he  had  met  with,  he 
showed  them  with  great  indignation  the  marks  which 
cords  had  left  on  his  legs.  His  family  found  means 
to  restrain  his  wanderings,  but  I  believe  his  mind  never 
was  restored  to  sanity. 

My   father   corresponded    regularly    with    Edmund 


i;85.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  J  69 

Burke,  who  sent  all  his  publications  to  Ballitore.  In  a 
copy  of  the  first  edition  of  his  "  essay  on  the  Sublime 
and  Beautiful,"  printed  in  i7J7,  and  presented  by  him 
to  the  friend  of  his  youth,  is  written  by  his  hand, 

To  Mr.  Eichard  Shackleton  from  tlie  Author. 

Accipe  et  hsec,  manuum  tibi  quse  monumenta  mearum 
Sint ;  et  longum  testentur  amorem.'" 

Although  not  politicians,  we  read  with  avidity  the 
speeches  of  Burke  as  they  appeared  in  the  newspapers, 
and  felt  interested  in  the  fate  of  every  measure  seconded 
by  him.  My  father  and  mother  loved  him  as  their 
steady  and  sincere  friend,  and  perhaps  we  young  folks 
extracted  some  gratification  of  our  vanity  from  so 
illustrious  an  aquaintance.  We  certainly  listened 
with  pleasure  to  my  mother's  anecdotes  of  his  assisting 
her  to  pick  bogberries,  and  remarking  how  well  they 
might  be  chosen  by  feeling,  without  the  help  of  the 
eyes  ;  how  kindly  he  settled  her  on  a  car,  when  set- 
ting out  to  a  meeting,  and,  pondering  on  what  car- 
riage she  could  travel  in  witli  most  ease,  recommended 
the  bolted-down  chair  ;  how  impressively  he  remarked 
that  humility  was  what  was  wanting  in  the  world,  and 
how  much  his  unassuming  manners  set  an  example  of 
that  virtue.  Again,  my  father  told  of  the  pursuits  of 
their  youth,  when  they  climbed  the  heights  of  learning 
and  plucked  the  flowers  of  poetry  together.  He  regret- 
ted the  loss  of  his  poem  in  praise  of  the  Blackwater 
and  of  a  translation  from  Theocritus  in  competition  with 
which  my  father  attempted  one  of  his  own.     He  remem- 


170  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.       [^785' 

bered  that  in  Burke's  version  of  tlie  passage  in  which 
Venus  despatches  her  Loves  in  search  of  the  boar  which 
had  wounded  Adonis,  were  the  following  lines,  contain- 
ing an  idea  not  to  be  found  in  the  original  : — 

Him  the  Love  who  rules  the  strong 
With  his  bow-string  dragged  along  ; 
While  the  Love  who  rules  the  slow 
Lashed  him  onward  with  his  bow  ! 

A  paragraph  in  a  newspaper  in  1785  alarmed  us  ex- 
tremely. It  ran  thus  : — "  Mr.  Burke  lies  dangerously 
"  ill.  The  news  of  his  son's  having  been  lost  a  few 
"  days  since  in  his  passage  from  Harwich  to  Holland 
^'  has  had  such  an  effect  on  his  health  that  his  recovery 
"  is  now  very  doubtful."  Very  soon  after,  "the  death 
of  Mr,  Burke"  was  announced,  accompanied  by  the 
following  sketch  of  his  character : — "  By  the  death  of 
"  the  late  Mr.  Burke  the  world  has  lost  an  ornament, 
"  society  a  pleasing  member,  the  poor  a  patron,  and 
"  mankind  a  friend.  As  it  would  be  impossible  to  do 
"  justice  to  his  real  worth  within  the  limits  prescribed 
"  by  custom  for  that  purpose,  let  it  suffice  to  say  that, 
"  in  the  several  duties  of  husband,  father,  master,  and 
"  benefactor,  he  acquitted  himself  in  a  manner  which 
"  did  honour  to  human  nature,  and  in  the  fifty-seventh 
"  year  of  his  age  he  died  as  much  lamented  as  he  had 
"  lived  beloved."  "  J^othing  more,"  said  a  friend,  when 
he  pointed  out  this  character  to  me,  "  could  be  said." 
My  heart  was  too  full  to  contradict  this  assertion,  which 
was  meant  good-naturedly  as  a  ground  for  consolation  ; 
but  I  thought  much  more  might  be  said.     True,  the 


1785.]  THE    ANN'ALS    OF    BALLITORE.  171 

most  valuable  part  of  his  character  was  there  ;  the 
duties  of  the  private  walks  of  life  had  been  eminently 
well  filled  ;  yet  must  the  splendid  gifts  bestowed  by  an 
all- wise  Giver  pass  unnoticed  1  Where  is  the  statesman 
whose  mind  comprehended  such  an  extent  of  know- 
ledge 1 — the  orator  whose  irresistible  eloquence  poured 
conviction  like  a  flood  1 — the  luminary  on  whom  the 
eyes  of  Europe  were  turned  ?  Were  these  to  glide  from 
the  world  unattended  by  the  voice  of  public  regret  *? 
Yet  the  previous  reports  we  had  heard  of  the  death 
of  young  Eichard  Burke,  and  the  distress  which  we 
knew  must  overwhelm  the  heart  of  his  father,  the  fact 
that  his  illness  had  been  mentioned,  and  that  his  age 
agreed  with  the  account  in  the  newspaper,  called  forth 
our  most  painful  apprehensions. 

My  father  disbelieved  these  reports,  yet,  I  thought, 
felt  a  secret  dread ;  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  and  while 
we  waited  for  a  deliverance  from  this  bondage  of  sus- 
pense, many  who  could  not  know  more  than  ourselves 
thought,  I  suppose,  that  it  added  to  their  consequence 
to  speak  decisively  upon  it,  and  they  teazed  us  with 
conjectures  which  were  mostly  unfounded.  However, 
the  clouds  began  to  break  ;  the  silence  of  succeediug 
newspapers  encouraged  hope ;  and  I  thought  the  person 
of  our  neighbour  the  Eev.  Thomas  St.  Lawrence  never 
appeared  more  elegant,  his  countenance  more  intelU- 
gent,  his  manner  more  engaging,  nor  his  conversation 
more  interesting,  than  when  he  assured  me  that  the 
character  I  had  read  referred  to  Domiuick  Burke,  the 
agent  of  the  public  charities  in  Dublin  ;  and  thus  the 


172  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1786. 

news  of  the  death  of  a  gentleman  of  worth,  benevo- 
lence, and  public  usefulness  conveyed  to  my  heart  a 
sensation  of  joy  with  which  death  had  never  inspired  it 
before.  Our  illustrious  friend  had  replied  immediately 
to  my  father's  inquiry.  The  welcome  day  arrived  which 
brought  the  welcome  letter  to  "  his  oldest  friend,"  as 
the  generous  Edmund  styled  my  father.  His  son  was 
then  safe  and  well  at  Paris,  the  vessel  in  which  he 
crossed  having  narrowly  escaped  being  overtaken  in  a 
dreadful  hurricane  which  had  done  much  mischief  on 
the  coast  of  Holland.  The  distress  of  mind  which 
his  parents  suffered  while  ignorant  of  their  son's  fate 
furnished  the  ground  of  this  report.  That  silent  and 
grateful  joy  which  is  peculiar  to  relief  from  suspense 
now  diffused  itself  over  our  hearts,  and  I  felt  that  this 
was  indeed  one  of  the  white  days  of  my  life. 

In  the  following  year,  1786,  Edmund  Burke  paid  his 
last  visit  to  Ballitore  ;  he  was  accompanied  by  his  son, 
and  on  the  23  rd  of  Tenth-month  they  gave  us  a  most 
pleasant  surprise.  The  great  man  could  not,  I  think, 
possibly  have  appeared  to  more  advantage  than  while 
he  again  reviewed  the  scenes  of  his  youth.  He  remem- 
bered where  the  trees  had  stood  which  stood  no  longer, 
and  greeted  those  which  remained  as  old  acquaintances ; 
the  alterations  in  the  buildings  were  not  unnoticed,  and 
with  pecuKar  delight  he  went  through  the  apartments 
of  the  school-house,  and  walked  in  the  Four-tree-field. 
He  called  to  see  all  those  with  whose  families  he  had 
formerly  been  acquainted ;  and  his  finished  politeness 
was  mingled  with  so  much  good-nature  and  simplicity 


1786.]  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  1 73 

that  they  delighted  while  they  flattered  his  friends. 
The  village  was  all  agape  while  the  distinguished 
strangers  made  the  tour  of  it,  attended  by  the  old 
master  and  most  of  his  family  ;  and  the  patriotic 
comber,  Ames  May,  declared  he  would  see  the  great 
Burke,  sujjpose  he  lost  his  day's  work  by  it.  "  Hast 
thou  ever  heard  of  Edmund  Burke?"  queried  my 
father  of  Joshua  Webster,  who  had  just  handed  to  the 
graceful  stranger  a  bowl  of  the  cider  wliich  he  was 
making  in  Aunt  Fuller's  orchard.  "  He  is  now  drink- 
ing your  health,"  said  Edmund,  raising  the  bowl  to  his 
lips,  and  Joshua  long  remembered  the  friendly  greeting. 
How  pleasant  was  the  evening  he  spent  amongst  us  ! 
My  brother's  family  having  joined  ours,  he  expressed 
mth  much  cordiality  his  pleasure  in  so  comfortable  a 
Retreat  being  afforded  to  the  age  of  his  friends,  whose 
situation  he  reckoned  enviable  ;  and  in  our  family 
harmony,  with  which,  he  said,  "  we  were  happy  in 
"  being  so  near  each  other ;  but,  were  it  otherwise,  it 
"  would  be  well  to  have  a  kingdom  between  us."  Old 
William  Gill,  who  had  been  servant  to  my  grandfather 
when  Edmund  Burke  was  his  pupil,  and  who  loved 
him  sincerely,  and  had  been  celebrated  in  his  and  my 
father's  juvenile  verses  by  the  name  of  "  Hobbes," 
came  to  behold  this  great  and  beloved  man  once  more. 
With  all  his  native  suavity,  our  illustrious  guest  shook 
liis  humble  friend  by  the  hand  often  and  cordially  ; 
while  his  son,  who  had  shortly  before  been  particularly 
noticed  at  the  court  of  France,  rose  with  graceful 
courtesy  and  came  to  his  father's  side  to  be  introduced 


174  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1786. 

to  poor  old  William,  as  to  a  venerable  friend  whose 
gray  hairs  demanded  respectful  attention.  The  old 
man's  heart  was  full;  he  bowed,  and  bowed;  told 
Edmund  (I  believe  it  was  literally  the  case)  that  he 
was  proud  to  see  him,  and  added,  "  You  have  a  great 
many  friends  in  Ireland,  sir  ! "  "I  am  happy,  Mr.  Gill, 
that  you  are  one  of  them,"  said  Burke,  and  then  con- 
gratulated Gill  on  wearing  his  age  so  well.  He  asked 
Gill  if  he  thought  him  much  altered,  and,  on  Wilham's 
replying  he  could  not  well  see,  he  took  up  a  candle  and 
let  liis  benevolent  countenance  beam  on  the  delighted 
old  man.  I  think  no  one  could  have  beheld  this  action 
without  admiring  it.  It  was  a  subject  worthy  of  the 
pencil  of  Burke's  friend,  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds.  Next 
day  they  left  us ;  my  father,  mother,  and  I  escorted 
them  part  of  the  way,  and,  as  if  waking  from  a 
delicious  dream,  my  mother  and  I  took  a  last  leave 
of  father  and  son.  I  should  not  omit  to  say  that  the 
schoolboys  were  dehghted  with  the  sight  of  Edmund 
Burke,  whom  they  declared  to  be  "  the  cleverest  fellow 
they  had  ever  seen."  My  father,  who  generally  at- 
tended the  yearly  meetings  of  London,  had  on  these 
occasions  frequent  interviews  with  his  friend,  which 
were  very  pleasant  to  them  both.  At  the  time  of  the 
yearly  meeting  following  my  beloved  father's  death, 
I  wrote  a  particular  account  of  his  illness  and  death 
to  Edmund  Burke,  who  soon  after  the  sad  event  had 
T\Titten  a  very  kind  letter  to  me.  I  gave  my  letter 
to  the  care  of  my  friend  James  Abell,  who  at  my 
request  took  it  himself  to  the  house  of  Edmund  Burke. 


1786.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  1 75 

John  Pirn  accompanied  him  ;  the  footman  accosted 
them  as  his  master's  friends,  and  introduced  them  to 
the  sitting-room  without  any  previous  enquiry,  where 
Edmund  and  his  wife  received  them  with  their  accus- 
tomed kmdness.  Edmund  opened  my  letter,  looked  at 
it,  and,  putting  it  by,  said  that  was  what  he  wanted. 
We  had  from  henceforward  few  opportunities  of  inter- 
course with  our  illustrious  friend,  but  he  failed  not, 
when  opportunities  did  occur,  to  evince  his  continued 
regard  for  the  family  of  him  who  had  been  so  dear 
to  him. 

Our  great  neighbour  Lord  Aldborough  cultivated  a 
friendly  intercourse  with  our  family.  His  talents  had 
been  made  the  most  of  by  a  literary  education,  on  which 
he  seemed  to  value  himself ;  his  early  education  it  is 
probable  had  not  been  equally  attended  to.  His  lady 
was  an  Englishwoman  of  high  rank  ;  she  was  friendly, 
too,  but  she  spent  most  of  her  time  in  her  native  land, 
and  at  those  periods  Lady  Hannah  Stratford  presided  at 
Belan.  John  Pemberton  and  Tliomas  Cash,  ministers 
of  our  Society  from  England  travelling  on  a  rehgious 
visit,  having  appointed  a  public  meeting  in  Ballitore, 
Lord  Aldborough  was  amongst  those  invited,  and  he 
pressed  so  hard  that  these  friends,  with  my  father's  and 
brother's  families,  should  dine  with  him  next  day,  that 
the  invitation  was  accepted.  Lady  Aldborough  was  at 
home,  the  entertainment  was  suited  to  the  rank  of  the 
entertainers,  and  to  the  marked  respect  and  attention 
they  destined  to  pay  their  guests.  A  year  later,  Lady 
Aldborough  died  suddenly  at  an  inn  in  England,  while 


1/6  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE,  [1786. 

on  a  journey  with  her  lord  ;  wlio,  in  a  note  to  my 
brother,  made  affectionate  mention  of  her  worth  and 
his  regret.  In  1 787  he  married  a  young  Englishwoman, 
daughter  to  Sir  John  Henneker,  and  niece  to  the  Duch- 
ess of  Chandos,  who  accompanied  her  to  Belan,  and 
regaled  Ballitore  with  the  novel  sight  of  a  duchess. 

Squire  Keatinge  now  settled  on  his  estate,  and  showed 
great  kindness  to  his  tenantry.  People  of  all  ranks 
respected  him,  and  rejoiced  to  see  in  the  representative 
of  this  ancient  family  a  person  of  so  much  worth.  In 
I  790  he  married  Lady  Martha  Brabazon,  sister  to  the 
Earl  of  Meath.     Of  her  it  might  truly  be  said, 

Her  wit  and  beauty  for  a  court  were  made  ; 
But  truth  and  virtue  fit  her  for  the  shade. 

The  old  mansion-house  at  Narraghmore  had  been 
thrown  down,  and,  till  he  had  built  a  house  fit  to 
receive  his  bride,  Squire  Keatinge  proposed  taking  one 
near  her  brother's  seat  at  Kihuddery.  He  had  previ- 
ously occupied  Battlemount,  a  genteel  but  small  house, 
and  she  declared  against  his  taking  a  new  residence, 
saying  if  Battlemount  suited  him  it  would  suit  her  also. 
They  came  home  in  a  private  manner,  yet  the  tenants 
had  heard  of  it,  and  lighted  a  bonfire.  The  bridegroom, 
on  observing  it,  gave  a  crown  to  a  man  to  put  it  out. 
Lady  Martha  soon  became  the  delight  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  the  worthy  pair  took  the  lead  not  only  in 
rank  but  in  virtue.  It  was  easy  to  perceive  who  were 
the  Squire's  tenants  by  the  comforts  around  their  cot- 
tages. 


1/86.]  THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITORE.        177 

EpliTaim  Boake's  daughter  Abby,  a  beautiful  girl  of 
seventeen,  was  married  to  William  Carter,  a  person  of 
much  respectability,  advancing  to  the  middle  term  of 
life.  But  his  happiness  was  soon  overcast.  She  came 
to  her  father's  house  at  Boakefield  to  be  confined,  and 
gave  birth  to  a  son,  but  died  two  weeks  after  his  birth. 
No  danger  was  apprehended  till  very  near  the  close  of 
her  life.  She  died  in  her  father's  arms  ;  and  in  a  few 
hours  the  father  had  to  encounter  a  trial  scarcely  less 
severe;  for  he  had  to  meet  her  husband,  who  came, 
filled  with  delight,  on  a  second  visit  to  his  son,  hoping 
to  meet  his  darhng  wife  in  the  parlour.  Ephraim  met 
him  as  he  entered  the  gate  ;  his  looks  announced  the 
sad  tidings,  and  the  distracted  husband  fell  to  the 
ground  like  one  shot.  It  was  a  most  affecting  sight  to 
see  him  silently  gazing  upon  the  cold  remains — a  wife, 
a  mother,  and  a  corpse  before  her  eighteenth  year  was 
completed.  To  the  transports  of  his  piercing  grief  the 
calm  dignity  of  enduring  sorrow  succeeded.  He  had 
tenderly  loved  his  wife,  and  he  never  entered  into 
another  matrimonial  engagement. 

The  oldest  man  in  the  village  at  this  time  was  Finlay 
McClane,  a  native  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  who, 
to  those  who  understood  his  native  Gaelic,  could  relate 
the  account  of  many  a  battle  in  which  he  had  been 
engaged,  including  disastrous  Fontenoy.  He  told  us, 
and  we  all  believed  he  told  the  truth,  that  he  was  born 
in  the  year  1689.  He  was  an  out-pensioner  of  the 
Royal  Hospital.  His  wife  Mary  was  a  very  industrious 
body.     One  dark  evening  their  chimney  was  perceived 


178  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.  [1786. 

to  be  on  fire.  The  neighbours  ran  thither  affrighted, 
and  Hannah  Hanghton  put  the  jar  of  gunpowder 
which  she  kept  for  sale,  out  of  the  house.  Mary 
McClane,  a  little,  blunt,  consequential  woman,  stood 
with  her  arms  a-kimbo,  and  thus  addressed  the  affrighted 
crowd  :  "  Have  you  any  thing  to  do  at  home  1  If  you 
"  have,  I  advise  you  to  go  home  and  do  it,  for  if  I  had 
"  fifteen  chimneys  I  would  clean  them  in  no  other  way." 
Fortunately  the  house  was  slated,  so  the  danger  was 
the  less.  The  old  man  at  one  time  lay  very  ill  in  con- 
sequence of  a  fall  which  injured  his  hip  and  occasioned 
incurable  lameness.  "  There  he  lies,"  said  his  sym- 
pathising helpmate,  "  and  off  that  bed  he  will  never 
rise."  The  poor  man  looked  sorrowful  at  this  denun- 
ciation, and  turned  his  eyes  wistfully,  in  silence,  upon 
us  ;  we  blamed  Mary  for  her  apprehensions,  at  least  for 
expressing  them  in  this  uncomfortable  manner  ;  and  we 
encouraged  Finlay,  and  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  wit- 
nessing his  recovery  to  health,  though  not  to  activity. 
He  survived  his  matter-of-fact  spouse,  and  his  great  age 
had  not  deprived  him  of  sensibility,  for  he  mourned  her 
with  many  tears,  as  he  attended  her  to  her  last  home. 
In  his  hundred-and-tenth  year,  1798,  the  old  High- 
lander once  more  heard  the  sound  of  war,  and  saw  the 
weapon  of  destruction  aimed  at  his  breast  by  a  soldier  ; 
another  soldier  arrested  the"  stroke,  telling  his  comrade 
that  he  would  never  serve  the  king  as  long  as  that  old 
man  had  done. 

This  year  Eobert  Bayly  purchased  the  Mill-field  and 
the  other  parks  belonging  to  that  quarter  from  the  re- 


1787.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  179 

presentatives  of  John  Boake.  He  cut  down  the  orchard, 
levelled  the  ditch,  and  threw  it  into  the  Mill-field. 
Joshua  and  Mary  Haughton  removed  to  the  little 
thatched  house  where  James  and  Nanny  once  lived, 
Eobert  Bayly  gave  it  to  them  during  their  lives,  as  a 
testimony  of  his  mother's  and  his  own  friendship  for 
their  relation  Mary  Haughton,  who  had  hved  there 
when  a  child ;  and  now  the  cottage  resumed  its  long- 
forgotten  neatness. 

William  and  John  White  had  been  a  little  more 
than  a  year  at  the  school,  when  John,  who  was  about 
eight  years  old,  was  removed  by  death  from  inflam- 
mation of  the  lungs.  His  sufferings  were  very  great, 
though  every  means  of  alleviation  were  tried.  The 
little  creature  wished  to  live,  for  life  was  in  its  dehght- 
ful  spring,  yet  he  also  said  he  would  like  to  go  to 
heaven,  if  he  were  sure  of  meeting  his  father  and  mother 
there.  His  artless,  endearing 'expressions,  full  of  love 
to  those  around  him,  his  entreaties  for  his  brother  not 
to  cry,  his  grateful  affection  to  his  master  and  mistress, 
who  he  said  were  like  a  father  and  mother  to  liim, 
added  to  the  distress  we  felt  in  witnessing  those  pains 
which  we  could  not  relieve. 

William  Gill  died  this  year,  very  far  advanced  in 
life,  but  having  had  a  strong  constitution,  nature  strug- 
gled against  death,  and  the  last  morning  of  his  life, 
when  my  sister  Lydia  went  to  visit  him,  she  found  he 
had  got  out  of  bed.  She  called  assistance,  and  they 
had  just  got  him  into  bed  when  he  expbed.  He  died 
in  my  brother's  house,  and  was  tenderly  cared  for  to 


t8o  the  annals  of  ballitore,  [1789. 

the  last,  as  his  faithful  services  well  deserved.  He  had 
seen  the  fourth  generation  of  the  family  he  served,  and 
his  favourite  little  Ebenezer  sat  by  his  dying  bed,  and 
shook  hands  with  him  when  near  the  close.  He  wished 
we  might  all  be  happy,  and  that  heaven  "  might  direct 
the  navigation  into  the  right  port."  Most  of  the 
family  attended  his  funeral.  This  was  a  mark  of  re- 
spect my  parents  were  accustomed  to  pay  to  their 
neighbours. 

My  brother's  family  were  visited  with  the  small-pox? 
and  little  Ebenezer  was  in  great  extremity.  The  child's 
mother  left  him  that  she  might  not  see  the  last  strug- 
gles, endeavouring  to  resign  him,  and  to  put  from  her 
mind  the  remembrance  of  his  little  virtues  and  his  win- 
ning ways,  dreaded  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  the 
words  which  should  announce  that  all  was  over.  But 
the  door  was  opened  to  relieve  her  agonizing  suspense, 
and  the  child  recovered. 

This  year  my  sister  Sally  appeared  in  the  ministry, 
with  humility  and  fear,  and  I  beheve  she  was  univer- 
sally approved,  for  her  conduct  was  consistent  with  her 
office  :  the  vessel  was  clean,  and  its  contents  were  pure. 

Our  dear  Sally  Haughton's  decline  now  became  more 
rapid.  She  lost  her  voice,  yet  loved  to  hear  us  converse 
beside  her.  On  First-day  morning,  the  15th  of  Third- 
month,  1789,  she  evidently  changed  for  death;  but 
when  my  mother  tenderly  bade  her  farewell,  wishing 
for  herself  as  peaceful  a  close,  and  retired  in  tears  from 
her  bedside,  the  invalid  expressed  her  belief  that  her 
time  was  not  quite  so  near,  and  so  it  proved.    My  sister 


1709-J  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I»I 

Sally  devoted  herself  night  and  day  to  her  early  friend, 
and  to  relieve  and  support  her  afflicted  sister  Hannah. 
It  was  a  pitiful  sight  when  our  dying  friend  looked 
round  upon  us,  and  then  at  her  mourning  sister,  and 
the  happy  scenes  of  childhood  recurred  to  the  mind,  as 
if  to  increase  the  darkness  of  the  present  hour.  Some 
days  rolled  heavily  away,  and  still  our  dear  sufferer  felt 
the  clogs  of  mortality.  She  could  say  but  httle,  but 
she  had  not  now  to  make  her  soul's  peace,  and  what 
little  she  said  manifested  this.  She  acknowledged  her 
sister's  tenderness  as  a  mercy  granted  to  her ;  she  loved 
to  have  her  dear  Sally  Shackleton  in  her  sight,  and  her 
last  intelligible  words  Avere  to  her.  She  called  for  her 
brother  John  and  spoke  to  him,  but  her  words  were  noAv 
unintelligible ;  she  could  not  make  herself  understood. 
She  strove  to  write,  but  could  not :  this  was  very  dis- 
tressing. Next  morning,  the  20th,  the  last  agonies 
came  on ;  I  could  hear  her  heavy  breathing  as  soon  as  I 
entered  the  house.  The  parlour  was  darkened,  and 
John  sat  beside  the  hre,  pale  and  sad.  In  the  chamber 
of  death  sat  poor  Hannah,  trembling  and  silent,  shaded 
by  the  curtains  from  the  view  of  her  sister,  not  being 
able  to  bear  the  sight,  yet  afraid  to  leave  the  room  lest 
she  could  not  return.  My  sister  Sally  sat  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  watching  the  changes  of  the  pale  countenance. 
Oh,  it  was  a  solemn  and  impressive  scene  !  And  while 
we  sat  in  mournful  silence,  I  thought  of  those  who 
perish  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  that  while  we  strove 
to  fan  the  last  spark  of  life,  in  how  many  is  it  suddenly 
and  violently  extmguished  !     But  "  the  heart  knoweth 


1 82  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [l/^p. 

its  own  bitterness,"  and  every  tlioiiglit  still  returned  to 
the  beloved  object.  It  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening 
when  the  painful  breatliing  ceased,  and  tbe  dear  re- 
mains lay  as  in  peaceful  slumber.  I  had  never  before 
been  present  at  the  separation  between  soul  and  body. 
I  took  the  intelligence  to  her  brother  ;  he  had  several 
times  come  into  the  room  through  this  long  dreary  day, 
but  could  not  remain  there.  When  I  told  him  that 
the  struggle  was  ended,  he  rose,  and  walked  backwards 
and  forwards  in  agitation.  I  said  I  thought  we  should 
be  thankful  for  her  release.  "It  is  hard  to  part,"  he 
said,  and  I  forbore  to  urge  those  motives  for  consola- 
tion which  reason  in  her  own  time  offers,  and  which 
are  too  often  urged  upon  the  unattending  ear  of  grief 
The  afflicted  sister,  worn  with  sorrow  and  fatigue,  found 
in  my  sister  a  friend  who  could  assist  as  well  as  sym- 
pathize, who  performed  the  last  offices  for  her  lost 
companion,  dressed  the  dear  head,  and  cut  the  beautiful 
bair.  Thus  died  our  beloved  Sally  Haughton,  having 
just  completed  her  twenty-eighth  year.  Her  sister  found 
some  little  token  of  remembrance  for  my  sister  Sally 
laid  by,  to  be  delivered  after  her  decease,  accompanied 
by  the  following  note  : — "  And  now,  my  darling  friend, 
"  after  struggling  with  my  cough  and  shifting  from  side 
"  to  side  for  an  easy  position,  I  have  ventured  to  take 
"  my  pen  to  request  thou  mayest  accept  this  little  token 
"  of  my  last  remembrance.  I  know  thou  wilt  think  of 
"  me  now  and  then,  without  any  outward  incentive 
"  thereto.  Ah,  why  shouldst  thou  not  ?  thou  art  and 
"  mlt  be  dearer  to  me  than  life.     The  boundless  pros- 


1789.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        183 

"  pect  of  permanent  felicity  seems  to  assume  new 
"  glories.  Oh !  may  gracious  Providence  gi'ant  me  a 
"  participation  in  those  joys  which  at  present  I  have 
"  but  a  slight  foretaste  of  !  Methinks  I  feel  animated 
"  since  I  began  to  address  thee  ;  yet,  notwithstanding,  I 
"  must  bid  thee  farewell.  Oh,  farewell !  May  kind 
"  Providence  protect  thee  in  all  thy  steppings  !  Ee- 
"  member  and  be  as  often  as  thou  canst  with  the  last 
"  surviving  sister.  Words  could  not  express  my  love 
"  for  thee  !" 

Old  Edward  Miles,  the  shoemaker,  so  long  famed  in 
the  village  for  his  surgical  as  well  as  his  shoemaking 
skill,  died  very  suddenly.  He  was  regretted,  being  an 
ingenious,  industrious  man. 

We  lost  our  agreeable  neighbour  Joseph  Haughton, 
who  we  hoped  would  have  remained  in  his  paternal 
mansion,  but  he  thought  it  more  eligible  to  engage  in 
the  cotton  business  in  Dublin.  In  about  two  years  he 
married  Mary  Wright,  and  settled  in  Ferns.  He  let 
his  land  to  William  Leadbeater. 

My  brother  about  this  time  declined  taking  any  boys 
but  those  of  our  Society ;  and,  in  order  to  partake  of  the 
advantages  of  his  school,  several  j^arents  permitted  theii- 
sons  to  conform  in  dress  and  language  to  the  simplicity 
of  our  profession,  and  to  attend  our  religious  meetings. 

Joshua  and  Mary  (more  commonly  called  Molly) 
Webster  came  to  reside  in  BalUtore.  They  were  mem- 
bers of  our  Society  and  were  in  low  circumstances,  but 
had  seen  better  days.  Their  first  dwelling  here  was  on 
the  turnpike  road,  as  tenants  to  John  Gavin,  who  was 


184  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [^7^9. 

born  a  Quaker,  but  had  long  since  forfeited  liis  mem- 
bership, and  had  married  a  very  pretty  woman  outside 
our  pale.  John  still  esteemed  himself  a  Friend,  and  had 
a  particular  seat  in  the  meeting-house,  on  which  if  any 
one  intruded  it  was  on  pain  of  his  displeasure.  He 
argued  stiffly  on  points  of  doctrine,  and  quoted  Scripture 
so  well  and  so  often,  that  liis  neighbours  said  it  would  be 
of  little  consequence  if  the  Bible  were  lost,  as  Johnny 
Gavin  had  it  by  heart.  Fronting  the  avenue  which  led 
to  the  village  he  had  built  himself  a  comfortable  cabin, 
whose  white  walls,  exalted  situation,  and  supercilious 
master  obtained  for  it  the  title  of  "  Castle  Gavin." 
One  son  was  born  to  inherit  his  castle,  his  trade,  and 
his  assumed  consequence. 

Joshua  Webster  followed  his  business  of  wool-comb- 
ing, and  his  wife  Mary  opened  a  school,  a  dame-school ; 
and  truly  did  she  resemble  Shens tone's  exquisite  de- 
scription of  a  village  schoolmistress.  She  had  adopted 
this  means  of  livelihood  some  years  before,  when  her 
husband  became  unprosperous  in  his  affairs.  Poverty 
had  not  deprived  them  of  the  spirit  of  independence, 
and  they  struggled  to  preserve  themselves  from  becom- 
ing burdensome  to  their  friends.  Joshua  was  a  rough 
County  Wexford  man,  good-natured,  honest,  and  in- 
dustrious. Mary's  manners  were  accounted  more  po- 
lite. She  had  kept  some  genteel  company  in  Athy  in 
her  youth,  and  was  fraught  with  a  variety  of  anecdotes. 
Her  school  was  esteemed,  and  her  pupils  loved  her. 
That  she  was  in  most  things  too  superstitious  was  a 
shade  in  her  character,  yet  her  elder  friends  excused  it, 


1789.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  185 

and  her  pupils  having  wondered  at  some  of  her  tales,' 
soon  learned  to  laugh  at  them,  yet  without  losing  their 
respect  for  her.  She  had  some  skill  in  physic,  and 
still  more  in  surgery. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  my  "cousin  Sam." 
Samuel  Carleton,  first  cousin  to  my  mother,  had  lately 
retired  from  business  in  Dublin,  on  a  comfortable  com- 
petency, and  come  to  reside  with  my  Aunt  Carleton. 
He  had  several  years  before  this  time  buried  his  wife, 
and  all  his  cliildren  except  an  only  son,  who  was  uni- 
versally beloved  and  esteemed,  and  whose  good  quali- 
ties consoled  his  father  for  all  his  losses.  This  young 
man  married  a  pleasing  young  woman,  and  liis  father 
seemed  to  have  nearly  reached  the  summit  of  temporal 
happiness,  especially  when  the  prospect  of  a  grandchild 
appeared.  To  the  mansion  house  was  added  another 
parlour,  pieces  of  plate  decorated  the  sideboard,  busi- 
ness throve,  and  everything  wore  the  appearance  of 
comfort.  The  first  cloud  over  this  cheerful  scene  was 
the  premature  birth  and  death  of  the  expected  heir, 
owing  to  a  fright  which  the  young  mother  met  with. 
This  disappointment  was  scarcely  surmounted  when 
Samuel's  son  was  torn  from  his  disconsolate  father  and 
afflicted  wife  by  a  fever.  Universal  regret  prevailed  on 
this  occasion,  and  while  Samuel  followed  the  remains 
of  all  his  earthly  hopes  to  the  grave,  the  spectators 
mournfully  observed  to  one  another,  "  There  goes  the 
poor  father!"  The  young  widow  fell  into  consumption. 
The  father-in-law  spared  no  paternal  care,  soothed  the 
rapid  decUne  of  the  sufferer,  and  received  her  last  sigh. 


l86  THE    AXNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1789- 

Having  now  no  inducement  to  continue  in  business, 
lie  quitted  the  solitude  of  Dublin  for  the  pleasing  society 
of  BalHtore.  He  was  at  this  time  nearly  sixty  years  of 
age,  of  a  portly  person,  and  a  benevolent  countenance. 
He  was  exceedingly  pleasant,  cheerful,  and  conversable; 
and  who  so  well  qualified  to  chase  eniiui  as  cousin 
Samuel  1  He  had  a  store  of  diverting  anecdotes,  which 
he  related  with  a  good  grace,  and  joined  heartily  in  the 
laugh  which  they  produced.  I  remember  he  was  not 
<][uite  so  well  j)leased  when  a  laugh  was  once  raised  at 
his  own  expense,  particularly  as  he  was  never  satirical 
liimself,  and  his  jokes  wounded  no  one.  He  had  the 
Carleton  arms  on  the  lid  of  his  silver  snuff-box ;  and 
in  adding  the  motto,  the  correct  words,  "  Quondam  his 
vicimus  arniis" — "  With  these  arms  we  have  conquer- 
ed,"— had  been  altered  (through  ignorance  of  Latin  on 
the  part  of  my  cousin  and  his  engraver)  to  "  Quondam 
his  visimus  armisr  My  father,  for  the  life  of  him,  could 
not  restrain  his  wit  on  this  occasion.  He  thought, 
"With  these  arms  we  have  visited"  extremely  apropos  to 
the  snuff- box,  and  he  said  so.  But  though  his  \\T:t  was 
thus  sportive,  his  good  nature  could  repair  its  transgres- 
sions. He  loved  the  worthy  relative  of  his  beloved 
wife,  and  respected  his  age  and  his  afflictions.  They 
were  frequently  companions  in  travelling  and  in  \dsit- 
ing,  and  when  his  friend  Eichard  Beauchamp  invited 
my  father  to  the  Glebe,  he  generally  added,  "  Bring 
Carleton  ;  everybody  loves  Carleton."  [N'otwithstand- 
ing  the  flow  of  spirits  which  my  cousin  Sam  possessed, 
it  was   often   evident   that    he   had   received    a  deep 


I/Sp.]  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  1 87 

and  lasting  wound.  One  evening.  Hervey's  Medita- 
tions being  read  aloud,  the  description  of  the  death 
of  a  young  man  deeply  affected  the  father's  feelings; 
he  wept,  sobbed,  and  groaned  without  uttering  a 
word.  We  were  all  full  of  sympathy  ;  but  he  wished 
not  to  sadden  any  one,  and,  rapidly  conquering  his 
emotions,  his  cheerfulness  returned.  He  died  after 
eight  years  residence  amongst  us,  regretted  by  all  who 
had  enjoyed  his  friendship.  He  breathed  his  last  in 
First-month,  1780,  in  the  sixty-sixth  year  of  his  age. 

Poor  James  Mc  Connaughty,  notwithstanding  his  in- 
dustry and  his  integrity,  was  unfortunate  in  business. 
In  1778  his  factor  in  Dublin  failed,  and  James,  on  the 
following  market  day,  shut  the  doors  of  his  mill,  and 
declared  himself  a  bankrupt.  The  distress  of  himself 
and  his  wife  was  such  as  worthy,  undesigning  hearts 
must  feel  when  conscious  of  having  unAvittingiy  in- 
jured others.  They  came  to  meeting  as  usual,  for  there 
they  sought  comfort  and  strength ;  but  they  took  the 
lowest  seats,  and  after  meeting  shrank  away  reluctant 
to  be  seen.  The  first  private  interview  I  had  with  my 
ever  dear  "  dada,"  he  unfolded  his  sorrows  to  me  in 
this  moving  couj)let : — 

I  who  have  been  zealous  in  Zion's  cause 
Am  now  become  a  transgressor  of  her  laws  ! 
As  I  wept  bitterly  at  this  self-accusation,  accompanied 
as  it  was  by  the  sorrowing  looks  and  tears  of  my  old 
friend,  I  was  as  much  hurt  as  surprised  at  my  father's 
hearty  laugh  when  I  repeated  it  to  liim.  I  knew  him 
to  be  one  of  the  last  men  in  the  world  to  laugh  at  mis  • 


l88  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^"89. 

fortune ;  but  lie  was  conscious  of  his  intention  to  suc- 
cour, and  therefore  suffered  himself  to  be  amused  by 
the  combination  of  religion  and  poetry  which  expressed 
and  soothed  the  distress  of  "  honest  James."  That 
title  his  patron  resolved  he  should  maintain,  though 
the  voices  of  his  creditors  strove  to  deprive  him  of  it. 
The  debts  amounted  to  about  one  hundred  pounds  ; 
my  father  discharged  them,  took  the  mill  into  his  own 
hands,  and  gave  James  a  salary  as  overseer.  As  he  was 
one  of  those  who  do  better  for  others  than  for  them- 
selves, he  was  thus  enabled  to  exchange  the  load  of 
perplexity  under  which  he  had  long  groaned  for  the 
sweet  burden  of  gratitude.  Nanny  was  relieved  from 
her  cares  and  apprehensions ;  their  appropriate  seats  in 
the  meeting-house  were  resumed,  and  perhaps  they 
never  were  more  happily  situated.  And  thus  the  even 
tenor  of  their  humble  life  rolled  on  for  some  time  longer. 
As  Nanny  Mc  Connaughty  sat  one  day  beside  a  sick 
and  dying  friend,  she  looked  out  of  the  window,  and 
thought  she  saw  her  husband  coming  towards  the  house. 
She  went  down  to  meet  him,  he  was  not  there,  and 
when  she  went  home  she  found  he  had  not  been  out. 
She  was  shocked  at  the  time,  and  was  still  more  alarmed 
when  James  took  ill  of  a  pleuritic  fever  the  very  next 
day,  for  she  believed  that  she  had  seen  his  fetch,  as  a 
forerunner  of  his  death ;  and,  trembling,  she  told  my 
mother  of  the  apparition.  Now,  whether  Nanny  was 
mistaken,  or  whether  this  warning  was  permitted  to 
prepare  her  for  the  event,  is  still  a  doubt  with  some. 
The  event  was,  however,  fatal ;  in  one  week  from  this 


1789.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  189 

time  Nanny  became  a  widow.  When  James  was  ill, 
Nanny  was  also  often  ill  from  grief  and  terror,  and 
I  found  her  echoing  his  dying  groans  when  I  went  to 
take  a  last  leave  of  my  dear  old  friend.  I  could  not 
command  myself  to  speak  to  him,  for  I  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed. My  mother  soothed  his  mind  by  promising  to 
take  care  of  his  dear  Nanny,  and  when  the  conflict  was 
ended  and  the  spirit  was  released,  the  poor  widow  was 
brought  to  our  house  in  a  state  which  seemed  to  pro- 
mise her  a  speedy  re-union  with  him  to  whom  she  had 
been  twenty-four  years  joined  in  the  bands  of  happy 
conjugal  love.  My  mother  desired  James's  grave  to  be 
made  large  enough  to  lay  Nanny  therein,  it  not  being 
unlikely  that  in  a  few  days  it  might  be  opened  to  admit 
her ;  for  my  dear  mother  was  remarkable  for  forecast. 
At  the  time  of  her  husband's  funeral,  Nanny,  while 
lying  on  her  sick  bed,  was  comforted  by  the  sweetness 
which  clothed  her  mind.  By  degrees  she  recovered  her 
health,  but  her  sadness  was  long  in  wearing  off,  and 
might  have  sunk  her  into  a  settled  melancholy  had  she 
not  taken  an  active  part  in  the  domestic  concerns  for 
which  she  was  most  quahfied,  and  she  said  that  James 
came  to  her  in  a  vision  and  charged  her  to  be  sure  and 
take  care  of  the  mistress.  Whenever  she  related  this 
vision,  my  father's  pretended  jealousy  that  he  had  not 
been  mentioned  used  to  amuse  us  in  spite  of  our  regret. 
Our  dear  old  Nanny  McConnaughty  exerted  her  fee- 
ble frame  in  the  management  of  our  domestic  concerns 
more  than,  on  account  of  her  health,  we  desired ;  but  it 
was  in  vain  we  attempted  to  relieve  her.     It  was  with 


IpO  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,        L^79°' 

great  reluctance  slie  sometimes  resigned  the  key  of  the 
pantry  ;  for  the  key  of  the  dairy  a  soHcitation  would 
be  fruitless,  her  strict  integrity  not  permitting  her  to 
hazard  the  chance  of  any  thing  been  wasted  under  her 
care.  She  asked  my  mother's  leave  to  give  away 
broken  meat  at  her  owti  discretion,  as  she  was  unwill- 
ing to  trouble  her  by  frequent  applications,  and  was 
not  easy  in  her  mind  to  give  what  was  not  her  own, 
without  this  permission.  A¥e,  who  knew  the  sincerity 
and  simplicity  of  her  character,  knew  that  this  was  no 
parade  of  virtue  ;  her  gratitude  to  her  protectors  was  a 
predominant  feeling  at  all  times,  for  when  she  dreamed 
that  the  doctor  who  attended  her  in  a  fever  was  about 
to  bleed  her  to  death,  she  desired  him  to  hold  liis  hand 
till  she  had  given  up  her  accounts  to  the  mistress. 
And  when  a  fall  down  a  flight  of  stairs  called  forth  the 
exclamation  from  a  servant,  "0  Nanny,  you're  kilt!" 
her  reply  was,  "  Hush,  hush,  don't  waken  the  mistress !" 
Though  the  memory  of  her.  dear  James  was  ever  accom- 
panied by  deep  regret,  she  liad  recovered  by  degrees 
her  spirits  and  her  innocent  cheerfulness,  and  the 
anecdotes  which  she  told  of  her  early  life  amused  and 
instructed  us. 

In  1 790  Nanny  attended  the  funeral  of  my  brother 
Abraham's  eldest  little  girl,  the  first  time  of  her  enter- 
ing the  graveyard  since  her  husband's  remains  were 
laid  there.  Probably  she  now  felt  that  the  time  of  her 
rejoining  him  was  not  far  distant,  for  our  dear  old 
friend's  life  was  gliding  away  more  swiftly  and  yet  more 
swiftly  as  it  approached  the  ocean  of  eternity.    A  short 


I790-J        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I9I 

time  before  her  death  she  asked  my  sister  Sally  what 
she  thought  of  her  spiritual  safety ;  my  sister  repHed 
that  she  would  gladly  be  in  her  case.  My  father  was 
from  home  when  she  expired;  he  returned  without 
having  heard  of  the  death  of  his  friend,  whose  faithful 
services  of  forty  years  he  fully  appreciated.  It  was  a 
great  comfort  to  us  to  reflect  that  she  had  wanted  for 
no  care  or  attention  in  her  pining  illness  ;  still  greater 
consolation  to  reflect  on  her  innocent  and  exemplary 
life  !  Such  a  life,  such  a  death,  outweigh  all  the  daz- 
zling.  accomplishments,  all  the  brilliant  talents  which 
are  too  often  the  means  of  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 
Wlien  I  look  back  upon  the  life  and  death  of  this  hum- 
ble, simple  woman,  and  others  of  like  character,  how 
does  the  wish  arise  to  be  enabled  to  live  as  useful  a  life 
and  to  meet  a  death  as  peaceful. 


ig2 


CHAPTEE  YII. 

1791. 

Tlie  authors  marriage. — David  and  Winifred  Doyle.— Thomaf! 
Wilkinson. — James  White. — Death  of  Samuel  Neale,  and  of 
Richard  Shackleton. — Letters  of  condolence  from  Edmund 
Burke  and  Tliomas  Wilkinson. — Ballitore  visited  by  a  camel. 
— Prospect  of  emigration  to  France. — Ballitore  Mill  built, — 
Death  of  Job  Scott. — Movement  of  troops,  and  illegal  oaths. — 
Squire  Keatinge  a  colonel. — Jack  Moran's  sick-bed  repent- 
ance.— Death  in  the  snow. — Dick  Miles  and  Jacob  Fuller. — 
Biddy  Murray's  prophecy. — -Molly  Haughton's  fowling-piece. 
— Mary  and  Anne  Doyle  settle  in  Ballitore. — Tragical  funeral 
of  John  Lecky. — Eobbery  of  the  mail. — A  genteel  begger. — 
MiHtary  intrusion. — Death  of  James  Kathrens. — Visit  to 
Ballitore  of  Benjamin  Rotch,  a  native  of  Nantucket,  New 
England. — Division   among   Friends. — Spread  of   RepubHcan 

principles. — Death   of   Edmund  Burke Letter  from  him  to 

the  author,  dictated  during  his  last  illness.-  Colonel  Keatinge 
an  M.P. — Sally  Shackleton's  travels  in  the  ministry. — Robbery, 
arson,  and  other  signs  of  civil  war  __         __     192  to  220 

TK  1 79 1  I  changed  my  name  of  Shackleton,  and  took 
that  which  belonged  to  my  friend  William  Lead- 
beater.  Our  affection,  which  had  for  some  years  been 
reciprocal,  was  established  on  a  solid  foundation,  and 
successive  years  have  increased  its  stability,  and  have 
not  decreased  its  tenderness.    My  husband  now  filled  a 


1 79^-]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  I93 

different  situation  in  life  from  that  which  had  been  mark- 
ed out  for  him.  The  impressions  he  had  received  at  Bal- 
litore  were  not  effaced  by  mixing  with  the  world  ;  the 
virtues  of  truth  and  simplicity,  of  which  he  had  an  ex- 
ample in  his  tutor,  were  not  rivalled  by  the  superficial 
graces  of  more  fashionable  life,  which  might  have  cast 
them  into  shade.  He  considered  that,  next  to  Divine 
assistance,  which  is  ever  near  to  the  honest  heart,  his 
preservation  from  many  snares  was  owing  to  the  vir- 
tuous attachment  he  had  formed  in  his  early  youth. 
He  had  joined  the  Society  of  Friends  in  1786. 

Some  of  our  friends  from  Dublin  attended  our  mar- 
riage. At  the  inn  at  KilcuUen  where  they  lodged  they 
met  with  a  young  woman  whose  tale  of  woe  excited 
their  compassion.  She  said  she  was  an  American ; 
that  her  name  was  Matilda  Brown ;  that  she  had  spent 
four  years  in  France  for  the  purpose  of  education  j  that 
she  was  the  only  female  passenger  who  escaped  from 
the  "  Charlemount "  packet,  which  was  lost  a  httle 
before  this  time ;  that  as  her  trunk  containing  her 
money  and  clothes  was  in  the  ship,  she  was  left 
destitute  in  a  strange  country ;  that  the  American 
vessel  in  which  she  had  expected  to  return  had  sailed 
before  she  arrived ;  and  that  she  was  now  journeying  on 
foot  to  Kilkenny,  having  some  knowledge  of  the  Butler 
family.  The  hearts  of  these  good  people  were  moved ; 
they  paid  her  hotel  bill,  gave  her  money,  and  brought 
her  to  BalHtore,  meaning  to  send  her  on  her  way  ;  but 
her  story  gained  her  friends  here,  a  subscription  was 
raised  for  her,   and  she  was  kept  as  a  guest  at  the 


194  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

bridal  feast,  where  some  pitied  and  some  suspected  her. 
I  was  of  the  pitying  party,  till  she  related  to  us  after 
dinner  the  circumstances  of  the  ship^vreck  and  of  her 
own  escape,  with  a  degree  of  composure  which  no  one 
who  had  really  witnessed  such  a  scene  could  command. 
In  a  little  time  one  of  our  friends  made  inquiry  con- 
cerning those  who  were  rescued  from  death  at  that 
awful  time,  and  discovered  that  Matilda  Brown  was 
an  arrant  impostor,  and  he  greatly  lamented  having 
brought  a  blot  on  our  marriage  feast  by  her  presence. 
We  respected  his  humanity,  and  were  not  disconcerted 
at  the  mistake  he  had  made.  A  paragraph  afterwards 
appeared  in  a  newspaper,  relating  this  circumstance, 
and  relating  it  fairly. 

My  father's  servant,  David  Doyle,  from  Eathangan 
side,  married  Winifred  Byrne,  my  brother's  cook.  The 
young  couple  were  a  pattern  to  their  poor  neighbours. 
David  was  ingenious  ;  he  could  read,  and  he  made  a 
bookcase  for  his  little  library;  he  also  made  for  his 
cabin  sash-windows  wliich  opened  ;  and  to  this  admis- 
sion of  fresh  air  we  may  in  part  impute  his  recovery 
from  a  long  and  dangerous  fever.  David  had  some  pro- 
pensity to  drink  ;  which  perhaps  his  own  good  sense 
and  care  for  his  increasing  family  could  scarcely  have 
overcome,  had  he  not  possessed  so  excellent  a  wife. 
She  managed  his  earnings  with  prudence,  prepared  his 
simple  meals  with  neatness,  indulged  in  no  luxury  but 
the  cleanliness  and  regularity  of  her  house,  and  received 
him  ever  with  cheerful  looks  and  a  cheerful  fire.  I 
have  been  delighted  with  the  scene  which  their  cabin 


I79I-]  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  I95 

presented,  when  I  have  stepped  in  unexpectedly  in  the 
evening,  and  found  the  mother  busy  at  her  needle,  the 
younger  children  asleep,  and  their  father,  after  his  daj^s 
work,  teaching  his  son  to  read.  They  were  as  poor  as 
any  of  their  neighbours  when  they  began  the  world, 
and  would  have  contmued  so  had  they  sat  smoking  in 
the  chimney  corner,  drunk  tea  and  whiskey,  and  let 
their  furniture  rot  mth  dirt.  But  they  are  now  com- 
fortable, have  a  cow,  and  have  built  an  addition  to 
their  house — their  children,  as  they  grow  up,  bearing 
the  stamp  of  a  good  education.  Winny  Doyle  contrives 
to  assist  others,  though  she  never  sought  for  assistance 
for  herself.  Two  of  my  daughters  may  boast  that  they 
were  nursed  by  this  good  woman  in  her  neat  cottage.* 

Anna  Taverner  attended  the  yearly,  meeting  of 
London  in  1791,  and  on  the  journey  met  Thomas  Wil- 
kinson, +  with  whose  native  courtesy  and  simphcity  of 
manners  she  was  as  much  pleased  as  my  brother  had 

*  This  excellent  matron  was  the  prototype  of  Rose,  in  Mary 
Leadbeater's  "  Cottage  Dialogues." 

t  Thomas  Wilkinson  was  a  native  of  Cumberland,  a  poet,  and 
a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  with  whom  the  author  of  the 
"  Annals  of  Ballitore  "  frequently  corresponded,  although  they 
were  never  personally  acquainted.  Wilkinson  was  a  neighbour 
of  Wordsworth,  who  refers  to  him  in  the  following  stanzas  ad- 
dressed "To  the  Spade  of  a  Friend,  an  Agriculturist": — 

Spade  !  with  wliich  Wilkinson  liiith  tlUeil  his  lands, 
And  shaped  those  pleasant  walks  by  liniont's  side, 
Thou  art  a  tool  of  honour  in  my  hands 
I  press  thee  through  the  yielding  soil  with  pride. 


196  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [l792- 

been  with  Ms  hospitality  and  unaffected  humility  at 
his  own  house  in  Cumberland  a  few  years  before, 

James  White,  from  Cork,  a  boy  of  fine  disposition, 
possessed  of  an  uncommon  understanding  and  great 
thirst  for  learning,  came  to  school  this  year. 

In  the  spring  of  1 792  our  long  loved  friend,  Samuel 
Neale,  of  Springmount  near  Cork,  died  of  a  mortification 
in  his  foot.  The  last  time  he  was  at  my  father's  house, 
a  few  months  before  his  death,  my  father  left  his  own 
bed,  which  we  never  before  knew  him  to  do,  and  slept 
in  the  room  with  Samuel,  that  he  might  attend  to  him 
in  the  night,  his  health  being  then  somewhat  inter- 
rupted. On  his  death-bed,  Samuel  said  his  thoughts 
day  and  night  often  turned  upon  his  dear  friend,  my 
father,  whom  he  called  "a  bright  star."  These  two 
friends,  "  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,"  were  not 
long  divided  in  their  death. 

Rare  master  has  it  been  thy  lot  to  know; 
Long  hast  thou  served  a  man  to  reason  true 
Whose  life  combines  the  best  of  high  and  low. 
The  labouring  many  and  the  resting  few; 

Health,  meekness,  ardour,  quietness  secure, 
And  industry  of  body  and  of  mind; 
And  elegant  enjoyments,  that  are  pure 
As  nature  is  ; — too  pure  to  be  refined. 

Here  often  hast  thou  heard  the  poet  sing 
Li  concord  with  his  river  murmuring  by 
Or  in  some  silent  field,  while  timid  spring 
Is  yet  uncheered  by  other  minstrelsy. 

Who  shall  inherit  thee  when  death  has  laid 
Low  in  the  darksome  cell  thine  o>vn  dear  lord? 
That  man  will  have  a  trophy,  humble  spade 
A  trophy  nobler  than  a  conqueror's  sword. 


1792.]  THE   ANNALS    OP   BALLITORE.  I97 

And  now  I  come  to  an  event  whch  it  is  most  pain- 
ful to  record,  my  husband  and  I,  with  our  little  daugh- 
ter had  left  my  father's  house  for  one  of  our  own. 
My  father  saw  us  but  for  a  few  days  settled  thus,  and 
he  took  delight  in  visiting  his  daughter's  new  abode ; 
in  nursing  his  little  granddaughter,  whom  he  used  to 
call  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  in  contemplating  our  little 
circle;  while  we  with  reciprocal  delight  received  his 
visits,  and  endeavoured  to  induce  him  to  repeat  them. 

He  left  home  to  attend  the  Provincial  School  commit- 
tee in  Mountmellick,  the  21st  of  Eighth-mouth,  having 
bathed  that  morning,  and  set  out  in  usual  health  and 
spirits.  Before  he  reached  Athy,  he  was  seized  with 
the  symptoms  of  a  putrid  fever,  which  increased  upon 
him  after  he  got  to  Mountmellick,  though  he  strove 
against  it.  The  24th  liis  servant  and  horses  returned 
and  brought  accounts  of  his  illness  from  John  GatcheU, 
at  whose  house  my  dear  father  lay  as  carefully  attended 
as  if  by  his  own  children.  My  brother  and  my  sister 
Sally  went  to  him ;  my  heart  seemed  bursting,  I 
longed  so  much  to  go  ;  but  it  was  thought  best  that  I 
should  stay  with  my  dear  mother  till  we  should  be  sent 
for,  in  case  it  were  necessary.  A  gleam  of  hope  was 
succeeded  by  worse  accounts  ;  and  on  the  27  th  I  went 
with  Doctor  Johnson  to  Mountmellick.  I  found  the 
best  of  fathers  dying,  but  heart-piercing  as  was  the 
sight,  my  spirits  were  relieved,  for  I  was  with  him. 
The  disease  had  made  rapid  progress,  yet  my  dear 
father's  senses  were  for  the  most  part  preserved,  and  he 
was  loving  and   even   cheerful  to   those   about   him. 


ipS  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [lyp^- 

When  we  arrived,  he  was  just  able  to  know  us.  Early 
on  the  morning  of  the  28th  the  last  agonies  came  on. 
He  had  to  endure  not  the  pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience, 
but  the  struggles  of  death  with  an  unbroken  constitu- 
tion, and  liis  last  words  were,  "  The  breasts  of  consola- 
tion !"  Jonathan  Pim  had  sent  his  carriage  for  my 
mother,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  go  in  ours  to  meet 
her  at  Athy,  so  I  left  my  dear,  my  honoured  father 
before  the  coniiict  had  ended.  What  were  my  sensa- 
tions in  this  solitary  journey,  as  I  traced  the  ground  I 
had  often  ridden  over  by  my  father's  side  !  At  Shane's 
Castle  my  mind  suddenly  became  calm.  I  looked  at 
my  watch,  it  was  eight  o'clock,  my  imagination  fancied 
it  could  hear  whisperings  in  the  sick  chamber,  and  I 
thought  perhaps  the  spirit  was  released.  My  mother 
had  similar  feelings  at  the  same  time,  and  we  afterwards 
found  that  this  was  the  moment  of  the  departure. 
How  melancholy  was  our  meeting  at  Athy  !  "  Am  I 
a  widow  V  enquired  our  dear  mother.  "  We  shall 
have  time  enough  to  lament  him  all  our  Uves  I"  said 
my  deeply  afflicted  brother. 

As  we  approached  Ballitore  on  our  return,  I  believe 
every  person  we  met  made  enquiries  of  our  servant, 
David  Doyle.  Many  of  the  neighbours  were  stand- 
ing at  the  doors  of  their  houses  watching  for  the  in- 
telhgence,  which  was  conveyed  by  the  sad  word, 
"  Gone  !"  or  a  motion  of  the  head,  and  was  answered 
by  some  expression  or  gesture  of  sorrow.  The  dear  re- 
mains, enclosed  in  a  double-cased  j)itched  coffin,  were 
next  day  brought  to  Ballitore.     It  was  feared  that  the 


1792.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  I99 

disease  had  been  communicated  to  him  by  the  razor  of 
the  village  barber,  who  had  just  before  shaved  a  man 
that  had  died  of  putrid  fever.  The  barber  imprudently 
told  my  father  of  his  having  shaved  the  corpse,  and  it 
seemed  to  impress  his  mind.  But  if  the  very  sparrows 
are  cared  for,  how  much  reason  have  we  to  feel  assured 
that  such  a  life  was  under  the  Divine  care,  and  would 
have  been  preserved  by  human  me^ns  if  unerring  Wis- 
dom had  not  made  a  better  disposal.  If  the  sympathy 
of  kind  friends  could  have  healed  our  wound,  it  was  not 
wanting.  Our  warm-hearted  Samuel  Haughton  and  his 
wife  Jane — both  dearly  beloved  by  my  father  and  dearly 
loving  him — were  amongst  the  foremost.  When  the 
account  reached  him  in  Carlow,  he  sent  away  all  his 
workmen  from  their  different  employments,  closed  his 
place  of  business,  and,  resigning  himself  to  grief,  wept 
like  a  child.  Several  of  our  friends  had  dreams  which 
seemed  to  portend  this  calamity ;  and  my  dear  father 
had  at  different  times  before  his  death  told  us  of  having 
dreamed  of  his  first  wife,  and  of  their  sitting  together 
in  the  yew  bower,  as  in  the  days  of  their  courtship ; 
and  frequently  spoke  of  this  companion  of  his  youth, 
perhaps  because  the  time  of  their  re-union  was  so  near. 
My  dear  mother,  who  a  little  before  my  marriage 
had  felt  a  numbness  in  her  right  hand,  and  for  some 
time  before  an  almost  imperceptible  decay  of  her 
mental  powers,  was  so  deeply  penetrated  by  tliis  afflic- 
tion that  the  decline  of  her  faculties  was  accelerated 
thereby.  For  some  time  we  dreaded  bemg  bereft  of 
her  also ;  but  her  spirit  was  preserved  from  sinking 


200  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

amid  those  waves  by  that  Hand  on  which  alone  she 
depended  for  consolation.  Our  dear  sister  Lydia,  my 
brother  Abraham's  wife,  bore  a  large  share  in  this 
family  grief.  She  was  very  dear  to  my  father,  and 
was  strongly  attached  to  him,  and  the  poor  little  chil- 
dren wept  sore.  The  vacuum  his  removal  left  was 
never  filled  up  ;  but  we  have  reason  to  confess  that  he 
was  taken  in  the  right  time,  and  that  the  evening  of 
his  happy  day,  had  it  been  protracted,  would  have  been 
clouded  with  sorrow  from  various  causes.  It  is  a  just 
and  toucliing  sentiment  of  my  friend  Thomas  Wilkin- 
son's : — 

Couldst  thou  thy  part,  as  heaven  the  whole  surveys, 
Perhaps  thy  sighs  v^^ould  change  to  songs  of  praise. 

The  testimony  of  his  friend  Ednmnd  Burke,  who 
could  justly  appreciate  the  character  of  him  whom  he 
had  loved  so  long  and  so  sincerely,  ought,  in  justice  to 
their  mutual  friendship,  to  find  a  place  here  : — 

EDMUND  BURKE  TO  MARY  LEADBEATER. 

'*  Beaconsfield,  September  8th,  1792. 
"  My  dear  Madam, 
"After  some  tears  on  the  truly  melancholy  event, 
"  of  which  your  letter  gives  me  the  first  account,  I  sit 
"  down  to  thank  you  for  your  very  kind  attention  to 
"  me,  in  a  season  of  so  much  and  so  just  sorrow  to 
"  yourself.  Certainly  my  loss  is  not  so  great  as  yours, 
"  who  constantly  enjoyed  the  advantage  and  satisfaction 
"  of  the  society  of  such  a  companion,  such  a  friend, 
"  such  an  instructor,  and  such  an  example  :  yet  I  am 


1793.]  THE   ANNALS   OP    BALLITORE.  20I 

"  penetrated  with  a  very  severe  affliction,  for  my  loss  is 
"  great  too.  I  am  declining,  or  rather  declined  in  life  ; 
"  and  the  loss  of  friends,  at  no  time  very  ,  reparable, 
"  is  impossible  to  be  repaired  at  all  in  this  advanced 
"  period.  His  annual  visit  had  been  for  some  years  a 
"  a  source  of  satisfaction  that  I  cannot  easily  express. 
"  He  had  kept  up  the  fervour  of  youthful  affections  ; 
"  and  his  vivacity  and  cheerfulness,  which  made  his 
"  early  days  so  pleasant,  continued  the  same  to  the  last : 
"  the  strictness  of  his  virtue  and  piety  had  nothing  in 
"  it  of  morose  or  austere  ;  and  surely  no  life  was  better, 
"  and,  it  is  a  comfort  to  us  to  add,  more  happily  spent 
"  than  his.  I  knew  him  from  the  boyish  days  m  which 
"  we  began  to  love  each  other  :  his  talents  were  great 
"  strong,  and  various ;  there  was  no  art  or  science  to 
"  which  they  were  not  sufficient  in  the  contemplative 
"  life,  nor  any  employment  that  they  would  not  more 
"  than  adequately  fill  in  the  active.  Though  his  talents 
"  were  not  without  that  ambition  which  generally 
"  accompanies  great  natural  endowments,  it  was  kept 
"  under  by  great  wisdom  and  temperance  of  mind ;  and 
"  though  it  was  his  opinion  that  the  exercise  of  virtue 
"  was  more  easy,  its  nature  more  pure,  and  its  means 
"  more  certain  in  the  walk  he  chose,  yet  in  that  the 
"  activity  and  energy  which  formed  the  character  of  liis 
"  mind  were  very  visible.  Apparently  in  a  private 
"  path  of  life,  his  spirit  was  public.  You  know  how 
"  tender  a  father  he  was,  to  children  worthy  of  him ; 
"  yet  he  extended  himself  more  widely,  and  devoted 
"  a  great  part  of  his  time  to  the  good  of  that  Society, 


202  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITOEE.  [l79^- 

"of  no  mean  extent,  of  which  the  order  of  Divine 
"  Providence  had  made  him  a  member.  With  a  heart 
"  far  from  exchiding  others,  he  was  entirely  devoted 
"  to  the  benefit  of  that  Society,  and  had  a  zeal  very 
"  uncommon  for  everything  which  regarded  its  welfare 
"  and  reputation ;  and  when  he  retired,  which  he  did 
"  wisely  and  in  time,  from  the  worthy  occupation  which 
"  he  filled  in  a  superior  manner,  his  time  and  thoughts 
"  were  given  to  that  object.  He  sanctified  his  family 
"  benevolence,  his  benevolence  to  his  Society,  and  to 
"  his  friends,  and  to  mankind,  with  that  reverence  in 
''  all  things  to  the  Supreme  Being,  without  which  the 
"  best  dispositions  and  the  best  teaching  will  make 
"  virtue,  if  it  can  be  at  all  attained,  uncertain,  poor, 
"  hard,  dry,  cold,  and  comfortless.  Indeed  we  have 
"  had  a  loss.  I  console  myself  under  it  by  going  over 
"  the  virtues  of  my  old  friend,  of  which  I  believe  I 
"  am  one  of  the  earliest  witnesses  and  the  most  warm 
"  admirers  and  lovers. 

"  Believe  me,  this  whole  family,  who  have  adopted 
*'  my  interest  in  my  excellent  departed  friend,  are 
"  deeply  touched  with  our  common  loss,  and  sympathize 
"  with  you  most  sincerely.  ...  I  hope  you  will 
"  assure  my  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Shackleton,  the  worthy 
"  wife  of  my  late  invaluable  friend,  that  we  sympathize 
"  cordially  in  all  she  feels ;  and  join  our  entreaties  to 
"  yours,  that  she  will  preserve  to  you  as  much  as 
"  possible  of  the  friend  and  parent  you  have  lost. 

"  Edmund  Burke." 


179^-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  203 

The  following  was  subsequently  received  from  Thomas 
Wilkinson  : — 

THOMAS   WILKINSON   TO    5IARY   LEADBEATER. 

"  Yanwath,  28th  of  Tenth-month,  1 792. 
"  Dear  Friend, 
"  It  is  certainly  more  congenial  to  my  disposition  to 
"  visit  the  abodes  of  sorrow  than  the  mansions  of  joy 
"  and  festivity  ;  not  that  I  am  insensible  to  the  comfort 
"  and  happiness  of  those  I  love,  but  if  my  friends  are 
"  more  near  to  me  at  one  period  than  another,  it  is  when 
"they  are  under  the  pressure  of  affhction.  Though 
"I  have  deferred  paying  my  visit  of  sympathy  and 
"  affection  in  this  way  till  now,  it  was  not  because  you 
"were  not  daily  in  my  remembrance;  but  sorrow  is 
"  not  at  all  times  communicative,  and  I  reflected  that 
"  numerous  would  be  the  tributes  of  condolence  on  the 
"  late  mournful  occasion  :  mine  might,  perhaps,  have 
"  been  spared.  Of  your  loss  I  make  estimation  from 
"what  I  have  felt  myself.  I  have  but  twice  in  my 
"life  had  the  satisfaction  of  any  personal  intercourse 
"  with  the  dear  deceased,  and  these  at  six  years'  distance 
"  from  each  other ;  yet  the  lively  impression  of  Eichard 
"  Shackleton,  left  thereby  on  my  mind,  is  equalled  by 
"few  indeed.  Few  indeed  possessed  the  powers  of 
"  engagmg  and  improving  those  around  them,  by  their 
"society,  like  him.  His  pleasant  and  communicative 
"disposition  opened  his  way  with  all  ranks.  It 
"  sometimes  happens  that  the  great  and  the  good  are 
"  encircled  by  a  forbidding  gravity,  (I  mean,  something 


204  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [^/P^. 

"  distinct  from  religious  authority,)  but  in  him  the 
"love  of  the  Almighty  was  shown  in  kindness  'end 
"  good-will  to  those  around  him  :  tliis  gave  him  place 
"  wherever  he  came,  and  his  mind  seemed  equally  fit 
"  for  the  vigour  of  reasoning,  the  capacious  range  of 
"  science,  or  to  comfort  and  bring  forward  the  hindmost 
"  of  his  brethren  and  sisters.  To  me  he  was  kind 
"indeed,  and  there  is  a  sweetness  accompanies  his 
"  memory  in  my  mind,  hard  to  be  described,  which 
"  I  believe  will  be  the  general  feeling  where  he  was 
"  known  ;  so  that  his  loss  will  be  as  extensive  as  his 
"  acquaintance,  and  lasting  as  the  present  generation. 
"  To  you,  dear  friends,  it  must  be  peculiarly  trying, — 
"  you  who  felt  his  paternal  care, —  you  who  felt  the 
"  cheering  influence  of  his  daily  conversation,  and 
"  saw  a  thousand  little  acts  of  solicitude  and  kindness, 
"  unknown  to  the  eyes  of  his  more  distant  friends. 

"  I  need  not,  I  cannot  enlarge.  Farewell :  if  the 
"  cloud  of  mourning  o'ershadows  your  valley,  extend 
"  your  prospect  to  that  bright  region  where  your 
"  father,  companion,  and  friend  is,  I  beheve,  gathered 
"  to  the  just  of  all  generations;  and  where  a  few  more 
"  days,  a  few  more  tears,  a  few  more  struggles,  and  if 
"  we  follow  the  light  that  guided  him,  we  shall  rejoin 
"  his  released  spirit,  and  be  united  to  the  redeemed  and 
"  happy  for  ever  and  ever  ! 

"  Thomas  Wilkinson." 

In  this  year  our  friend  Eobert  Grubb  went  to  France, 
whither  he  had  before  accompanied  his  wife  and  some 


1792  ]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  205 

other  friends  on  a  religious  visit  to  the  few  of  our  pro- 
fession there.  He  now  formed  an  acquaintance  with 
Madame  Eoland  and  her  husband,  and  received  encou- 
ragement from  them,  from  the  Bishop  of  Blois,  and 
some  others,  to  make  a  purchase  of  lands  with  the  view 
of  establishing  a  school  on  an  extensive  plan.  The 
place  selected  was  Chambord,  one  of  the  palaces  which 
the  king  had  resigned.  Several  gave  their  names  for 
shares  if  the  purchase  could  be  made.  William  Lead- 
beater  was  one — perhaps  unconsciously  impelled  thereto 
by  the  mysterious  influence  of  nature.  He  was  not  one 
who  loved  change,  but  his  family  had  originally  come 
from  that  fair  land,  and  his  thoughts  dwelt  much  on 
removing  thither.  We  had  it  in  view  to  take  part  in 
the  new  establishment.  Eoland  and  his  peerless  Marie 
also  spoke  of  settling  themselves  there.  Eobert  Grubb 
described  them  as  very  amiable,  worthy  persons ;  but 
he  regretted  their  having  entered  too  much  into  the 
spirit  of  party.  The  breaking  out  of  the  war  put  a 
stop  to  tliis  plan. 

The  villagers  were  astonished  this  summer  by  the 
first  exhibition  of  a  camel,  which  stalked  about  my 
brother's  yard,  while  the  walls  were  covered  with  spec- 
tators. Many  events  in  after  years  were  recalled  by 
the  date  of  the  advent  of  this  wonderful  beast. 

My  brother  built  a  large  bolting  mill  upon  the  site 
of  James  McComiaughty's  country  mill ;  and  the  new 
building  and  business  seemed  to  add  to  the  respecta- 
bility of  our  village.  The  little  old  kilns  being  pulled 
down,  removed  a  rather  unsiglitly  object  from  the  par- 


2o6  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  ['^79^- 

lour  windows  of  the  dwelling  house  of  the  mill,  or 
Griesebank,  as  it  was  now  styled.  In  1 793  the  mill 
was  let  to  Peter  Delany,  the  son  of  a  rich  neighbouring 
farmer.  This  young  man  was  clever  and  enterprising. 
He  built  a  wagon  to  convey  his  flour  to  the  canal  boat 
at  Athy.  His  eldest  brother,  Malachi  Delany,  who 
spent  much  of  his  time  with  him,  had  been  an  officer 
in  the  service  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany.  His  figure 
was  tall  and  striking,  and  his  countenance  strongly 
marked.  Thougli  a  great  talker,  and  qualified  to  han- 
dle various  subjects,  he  confined  himself  to  two — reli- 
gion and  politics.  His  mode  of  treating  the  first  con- 
sisted in  rating  at  the  clergy,  and  the  last  in  abusing 
the  government.  He  had  read  his  recantation  from  the 
Church  of  Eome,  in  which  he  had  been  educated,  and 
he  attached  himself  to  no  other.  He  had  not  served 
the  government  of  his  own  country,  nor  did  he  pretend 
to  wish  to  serve  it ;  he  was  not  a  secret  enemy,  and  he 
had  at  least  the  merit  of  sincerity. 

In  this  year,  1793,  we  had  many  accounts  of  threat- 
ened disturbances  in  the  County  of  Wexford  and  the 
Queen's  County,  occasioned  by  dissatisfaction  at  raising 
the  militia  ;  for  now  the  flames  of  war  between  France 
and  England  blazed  fiercely. 

Our  friend  Job  Scott  from  America,  having  in  the 
course  of  his  religious  services  arrived  at  Balhtore,  w^as 
taken  ill  with  the  small-pox  at  my  mother's  house.  He 
had  dined  at  Eobert  Clibborn's  in  Dublin,  and  fondled 
his  little  daughter,  who  had  the  marks  of  that  disease 
fresh  upon  her.     The  following  day  he  came  to  Balli- 


1 793-]  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  207 

tore,  and  the  day  after  lie  was  taken  ill.     The  pock 
appeared   with   unfavourable    symptoms.      Dr.   Frank 
Johnson  attended  him,  and  also  Dr.  Paul,  who  was  sent 
for  to  Dublin.    Abraham  Jackson,  Joshua  Beale,  James 
Clibborn,  Anne  Tuke,  and  my  sister  Sally  were  his  con- 
stant attendants,  and  the  family  and  neighbours  did 
what   they   could  to  alleviate  his   sufferings,   and  to 
prolong  a  life  of  such  inestimable  value  to  society  in 
general,   and  to  his  six  little  motherless  children  in 
particular.    All  was  in  vain  ;  he  died  on  the  thirteenth 
day  of  his  illness,   on  the   22nd  of  Eleventh-month, 
179,3.     Early  in  his  illness  he  dictated  a  letter  to  his 
father  and  the  parents  of  his  wife,  a  precious  testimony 
of  the  calmness  and  fortitude  of  his  mind.     His  bodily 
sufferings  were  exquisite ;  his  breatliing  was  so  extreme- 
ly oppressed  that  his  bed  had  to  be  drawn  over  to  the 
window,  and  the  sashes  of  both  windows  taken  out  to 
give  him  air.     I  lamented  then  the  want  of  thorough 
air  in  any  room  in  the  Eetreat  house,  and  I  beheve 
that  admitting  its  free  circulation  is  very  conducive  to 
health.    But  though  our  friend's  bodily  sufferings  were 
so  severe,    his  spirit  was   preserved  in  that  patience 
which  nothing  earthly  could  give,   and  ascended  tri- 
umphantly to  the  rest  prepared  for  the  righteous.     He 
had  been  much  led  to  hold  jDublic  meetings,  and  the 
testimonies  which  he  undauntedly  bore  against  su23er- 
stition  gave  great  offence,  especially  to  those  of  the 
Eomisli  persuasion.     Anne  Tuke,  who  had  been  his 
companion  at  some  of  those  meetings,   found  it  her 
place  also  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor.     She  held 


2o8  THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITOUE,        [^793- 

a  meeting  in  Haly's  shattered  house  at  Timolin,  where 
she  was  listened  to  quietly.  It  was  difficult  to  procure 
a  meeting  at  Crookstown,  till  Bartle  Toole  (who  reck- 
oned his  to  be  one  of  the  best  families  there)  lent  his 
house,  making  a  great  merit  of  this  condescension. 

Soldiers  were  at  this  time  marching  in  order  to 
embark  for  France,  and  some  of  the  artillery  were 
billetted  at  my  mother's  house.  They  were  fine  look- 
ing men  :  many  of  them  were  serious,  and  seemed  not 
to  expect  to  return  home.  Great  dissatisfaction  now 
appeared  on  account  of  the  embodying  the  militia. 
About  a  hundred  men  entered  Ballitore  early  one 
morning,  tendering  an  oath  to  all  of  their  own  class 
whom  they  met,  that  they  should  not  join  either 
militia  or  army,  but  be  true  to  their  own  cause.  Soon 
after  this  a  party  of  soldiers  were  stationed  here, — 
unusual  inhabitants  in  Ballitore,  which  hitherto  had 
only  beheld  the  military  en  passant.  The  Kerry  mihtia 
were  first  sent  and  billetted  on  the  inhabitants.  The 
villagers  found  they  had  nothing  to  dread  from  their 
armed  guests,  and  great  cordiality  subsisted  between 
them  ]  so  that  when  they  were  exchanged  for  the  Long- 
ford militia,  there  was  abundance  of  weeping  and  wail- 
ing ;  and,  as  "  excessive  sorrow  is  exceeding  dry,"  some 
superfluous  cups  were  drained  on  the  occasion. 

Squire  Keatinge,  having  raised  a  regiment,  now  be- 
came a  colonel. 

Jack  Moran,  a  butcher,  a  man  whose  looks  and 
manner  bespoke  him  not  of  the  very  lowest  class,  was 
seized  with  an  alarming  illness.     It  was  reckoned  a 


1 795-]  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORB.  209 

quinsey  in  the  windpipe :  Ms  breathing  could  be  heard 
at  a  great  distance.  My  mother  had  once  in  private 
warned  this  man  of  the  danger  of  drinking  to  excess, 
and  now  felt  her  mind  drawn  to  pay  him  a  religious 
visit,  which  was  very  satisfactory  to  both  parties.  The 
sick  man  acknowledged  her  kindness,  saying  that  those 
who  gave  a  cup  of  cold  Avater  should  have  a  reward, 
and  that  she  had  done  much  more.  He  disclaimed  all 
dependence  on  man,  saying  there  was  but  one  mediator 
between  the  Almighty  and  the  soul.  He  recovered, 
and  when  able  to  get  out  paid  my  mother  a  visit,  and 
appeared  to  have  made  good  resolutions  as  to  his 
future  life.  Alas  !  when  the  watch  is  not  constantly 
kept  up,  of  how  little  avail  is  mere  resolve  !  This  un- 
fortunate man,  by  yielding  to  temptation,  went  astray 
by  rapid  steps  :  he  became  deeply  engaged  in  the 
rebellion,  and  a  few  months  after  that  event  lost  his 
life  in  a  manner  so  mysterious,  that  it  was  imagined 
the  report  of  his  having  been  drowTied  was  invented  to 
conceal  a  more  disgraceful  fate. 

A  young  officer  of  Colonel  Keatinge's  regiment,  after 
dining  at  Power's  Grove  and  leaving  it  at  a  late  hour, 
or  rather  early  next  morning,  was  thrown  from  his 
horse  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  and  lived  but  a  few 
days.  He  Avas  the  second  who  lost  his  life  by  the  mis- 
taken hospitality  of  that  house. 

The  year  1795  commenced  with  great  inclemency. 
A  breeches-maker  left  home  in  frosty,  snowy  weather. 
His  wife  anxiously  expected  his  return,  and  was  so 
unhappy  at  his  delay,  that  her  two  brothers  went  to 


2IO  THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITORE.        [^795- 

Dublin  in  search  of  him,  but  returned  without  any 
account.  The  melting  of  the  snow  in  about  two  weeks 
revealed  the  dead  body  lying  in  a  field  beside  the  road 
to  Dublin.  Great  were  the  horror  and  anguish  of  the 
widow  ;  and  her  father,  Daniel  Scott,  a  respectable 
small  farmer,  took  suddenly  ill  the  same  day,  and  died 
before  morning. 

Elizabeth  Miles  died  at  about  eighty  years  of  age. 
She  continued  her  love  of  neatness  and  regularity 
when  her  strength  did  not  permit  her  to  do  much  more 
than  issue  her  orders  from  her  chair  by  the  fireside, 
dressed  in  a  clean  cap  and  hood,  and  she  maintained 
authority  in  her  family,  which  consisted  of  her  affec- 
tionate daughter  Jane,  her  son  Richard,  and  grandson 
Edward,  a  young  man  who  wanted  not  understanding 
nor  the  advantages  of  education.  In  his  uncle  Eichard 
he  had  an  example  of  the  woful  effects  of  intemperance, 
for  no  remonstrance  could  prevail  upon  unfortunate 
Dick  to  resign  his  habitual  love  of  the  bottle  ;  and 
what  mortified  the  Friends  of  the  village  was,  that 
when  in  a  state  of  inebriation  Dick  partictilarly  chose 
to  speak  our  plaiu  language  in  its  greatest  purity, 
though  not  belonging  to  our  Society.  Poverty — the 
natural  consequence  of  drinking  habits — soon  gave  an 
altered  appearance  to  the  habitation,  especially  after 
the  old  woman's  death. 

Jacob  EuUer,  who  had  been  born  in  our  Society  of 
one  of  its  most  respectable  families,  and  had  more- 
over served  an  apprenticeship  to  Abby  Widdows,  and 
learned  the  art  of  a  tailor,  contracted  the  destructive  vice 


179^-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  211 

of  drinking.  He  forfeited,  of  course,  his  membership 
with  us ;  and,  after  having  led  a  wandering  Hfe,  pro- 
fessed reformation,  and  followed  his  trade  at  Ballitore. 
He  was  very  desirous  to  be  noticed,  and  valued  himself 
upon  his  high  birth» 

A  tolerable  house  had  been  built  at  the  corner  of  the 
street  where  it  turns  to  the  school,  by  William  Alcock, 

who  married  Sally,  the  only  daughter  of Mooney, 

of  Irishtown,  and  she  bore  him  twenty  children.  This 
couple  were  the  offspring  of  farmers  accounted  rather 
wealthy,  and  perhaps  valued  themselves  too  much  upon 
this  circumstance.  I  suspect  Sally  had  also  the  misfor- 
tune of  aiming  at  gentihty.  But  this  did  not  protect 
her  from  Biddy  Murray's  anger  when  she  heard  her 
more  polished  neighbour,  in  a  dispute  between  their 
husbands,  begging  her  spouse  not  to  meddle  with  such 
"  inferior  wretches."  In  the  bitterness  of  indignation 
Biddy  declared  that  her  Tom  had  first  lived  in  Balh- 
tore,  and  foretold  he  should  continue  to  do  so  when 
Bill  should  have  left  it.  Tliis  proved  true,  for  the 
Alcocks  soon  sought  another  abode. 

About  this  time  a  visit  was  paid,  by  appointment  of 
the  monthly  meeting,  to  recommend  such  of  our  Soci- 
ety as  had  fire-arms  or  other  instruments  for  the  de- 
struction of  man,  to  destroy  them.  The  only  person 
amongst  us  who  was  in  possession  of  such  an  instru- 
ment was  ]\Iolly  Haughton,  who  resigned  to  destruction 
her  husband's  old  fowling-piece,  and  joined  in  the 
laugh  raised  at  her  expense. 

My  husband   having   enlarged    our    new   abode,  it 


212  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [  •  79'5« 

was  now  too  large  for  our  own  family,  and  we  proposed 
to  Anne  Doyle,  who  was  about  to  join  her  sister  Mary 
in  opening  a  shop,  that  they  should  become  our  tenants 
for  part  of  the  house.  On  the  i6th  of  Mnth-month, 
1796,  these  dear  friends  came  under  our  roof.  The 
shop,  and  a  front  room  which  served  them  for  kitchen 
and  parlour,  with  a  pantry  and  scullery  adjoining,  and 
a  large  bed-chamber  upstairs,  became  theirs.  We  ascend 
to  our  chambers  by  the  same  staircase.  It  is  but  a 
step  from  our  sitting-room  to  theirs,  and  we  have  this 
advantage  over  all  our  neighbours  that  no  weather  can 
prevent  our  visits  to  each  other,  I  esteem  it  one  of 
my  blessings  that  those  excellent  young  women  have 
been  brought  so  near  us,  and  the  unbroken  harmony 
which  has  ever  subsisted  between  us  appears  to  me  a 
proof  that  tliis  stej)  was  favoured  by  Divine  approba- 
tion. They  have  proved  themselves  faithful  friends, 
sympathizing  with  us  in  our  troubles  and  rejoicing  in 
our  joys;  and,  although  they  keep  no  servant,  and  their 
own  engagements  occupy  them  so  much,  they  contrive 
often  to  render  me  material  assistance  in  my  domestic 
concerns,  and  in  the  care  of  my  infant  family.  Anne 
Doyle  I  had  long  known,  and  admired  her  good  sense, 
her  taste,  her  modesty,  and  her  gentleness.  Mary  was 
almost  a  stranger  to  me,  and  the  fascinating  cheerful- 
ness of  her  conversation  surprised  and  delighted  me  ; 
while  by  her  knowledge  of  the  sick,  especially  children, 
I  have  been  often  comforted  and  assisted. 

Robert  Lecky,  while  at  school  here,  was  bereft  by 
fever  of  his  father,  John  Lecky  of  Ballykealy.      And 


1 79*5.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  213 

what  a  father  had  he  lost ! — one  who  joined  to  that 
extraordinary  tenderness  which  freed  his  children 
from  restraint,  the  most  watchful  care  of  their  conduct. 
John  Lecky's  cheerful,  benevolent  heart  had  made 
him  the  delight  of  his  family  and  friends.  Three 
days  before  liis  illness  he  read  in  the  preparative  meet- 
ing the  query  concerning  wills,  and  remarked  that  his 
own  was  not  to  his  mind,  and  that  he  meant  to  alter  it, 
which  he  did,  copying  it  neatly  over  when  his  death 
sickness  was  upon  him.  He  also  sent  a  clear  message 
to  the  monthly  meeting,  concerning  an  appointment 
Avliich  he  had  fulfilled.  His  wife  could  scarcely  believe 
he  was  no  more ;  and  her  grief  needed  a  higher  con- 
solation than  her  fellow  mortals  could  afford.  The 
poor  almost  idolized  him.  It  was  with  difficulty  their 
lamentations  were  suppressed  on  leavuig  the  house 
with  his  funeral ;  but  when  out  of  hearing  of  the 
widow  and  children,  they  burst  forth  into  loud  wail- 
ings,  which  were,  however,  less  affecting  than  the  silent 
tears  of  the  old  men  and  children.  Their  friend,  bene- 
factor, and  counsellor  snatched  suddenly  from  them  m 
the  prime  of  life,  they  resisted  for  a  time  the  entrance 
of  the  body  into  the  graveyard.  But  when  the  loved 
remains  were  about  to  be  deposited  in  the  earth,  their 
grief  passed  all  bounds,  and  they  declared  that  he 
must  not  be  laid  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave.  In  vain 
the  gravediggers  remonstrated.  At  length  they  laid 
down  their  spades,  and  joined  in  the  lamentation  ;  and 
for  some  time  nothing  could  be  done  but  to  weep  with 
them.     Robert  Lecky  did  not  survive  his  father  mucli 


214  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [l79<^- 

more  than  two  years.  He  died  of  fever  at  the  school 
of  Eichard  Koe  in  Waterford,  and  his  mother's  heart 
was  again  wrung  by  the  loss  of  a  son  who  promised  to 
inherit  his  father's  virtues. 

Early  in  this  year,  the  boy  who  brought  down  the 
postbags  was  knocked  down  and  robbed  of  them.  It 
was  thought  the  plunderers  had  got  a  large  booty  :  the 
boy  declared  his  ignorance  of  their  persons.  A  strong 
suspicion  of  one  man  so  impressed  my  husband's  mind, 
that  he  took  him  aside,  and  in  privacy  and  with  great 
gentleness  told  him  his  fears,  advising  him  to  restore 
what  he  had  taken,  and  retain  his  peace  of  mind,  in 
which  case  he  had  nothing  to  fear.  The  unfortunate 
man  affected  surprise  and  denied  the  fact,  but  without 
discovering  anger  at  the  suspicion.  However,  this  man 
and  his  brother  were  believed  to  have  been  the  rob- 
bers. No  proof  led  to  certainty,  though  it  was  said 
to  have  been  nearly  found  out  by  a  quarrel  between 
their  wives.  Some  years  afterwards  these  men  were 
detected  robbing  my  brother's  mill,  yet  they  still  con- 
tinued in  the  village,  till,  on  the  execution  of  some  mail- 
coach  robbers,  they  took  themselves  away. 

Trevor  Fay  came  to  Ballitore.  He  had  left  it  in  1 785 
a  young  ensign ;  he  returned  in  the  character  of  a  gen- 
teel begger,  and  in  the  dress  of  a  sailor.  His  degrada- 
tion excited  much  compassion  here,  where,  though  few 
are  wealthy,  the  purse  opens  in  unison  with  the  heart. 
But  when  it  appeared  that  their  bounty  helped  to  en- 
rich the  public-house,  his  acquaintances  were  ready  to 
believe   that   Fay's   degradation  was  the  consequence 


1796-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  21^ 

and  piiiiisliment  of  his  vices,  and  became  less  willing  to 
assist  him  with  money. 

Abigail  Widdows  left  my  brother's  house,  and  went 
to  my  mother's  as  an  assistant.  She  took  part  of 
what  had  been  Taylor's  orchard  from  William  Lead- 
beater,  who  now  rented  the  whole  Burrow,  on  which 
he  built  a  house  for  her. 

Many  of  us  were  in  Carlow,  attending  the  quarterly 
meeting,  when,  on  the  morning  of  the  25  th  of  Twelfth - 
month,  the  alarm  came  that  the  French  fleet  had  been 
seen  off  Bantry.  "We  saw  the  troopers  march  out  of 
town  to  meet  them.  It  was  an  awful  sight,  not  know- 
ing but  that  these,  now  in  the  pride  of  health,  would 
be  sacrificed  to  horrid  war.  The  weather  became  very 
inclement,  and  the  rigours  of  frost  and  snow  were 
severely  felt  by  the  crowds  of  soldiers  who  were  has- 
tening to  Bantry.  Carlow  was  all  in  confusion ;  so  was 
Ballitore,  our  houses  being  for  a  long  time  open  to  the 
military,  going  to  and  returning  from  Bantry.  "We 
were  relieved  from  the  present  apprehension  of  invasion, 
but  it  had  caused  a  ferment  in  the  minds  of  the  peoj^le. 
The  inconvenience  of  having  our  houses  thronged  with 
soldiers  we  bore  with  becoming  patience,  but  the  idea 
that  this  might  be  the  beginning  of  sorrows  was  dis- 
tressing. Unused  as  we  were  to  the  military,  some 
whimsical  circumstances  occurred.  One  evening  our 
house  being  pretty  much  filled  mtli  soldiers,  Ave  re- 
treated to  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle's  parlour,  and  w^hile 
we  sat  by  the  fireside,  two  tipsy  soldiers,  not  of  our  party, 
entered  and  seated  themselves  also.     AVe  remonstrated 


2l6  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

gently  against  this  intrusion,  and  he  who  appeared  the 
most  drunk  of  the  two,  told  us  that  being  informed 
that  the  master  of  the  house  loved  a  soldier  as  he  loved 
his  life,  he  came  to  visit  him  and  to  see  the  back  apart- 
ments of  his  castle.  William  Leadbeater's  love  of 
soldiers  being  thus  exaggerated,  and  our  house  really 
occupying  much  back  space,  made  us  ready  to  smile, 
though  we  shuddered  at  being  exposed  to  such  com- 
pany, and  at  the  oaths  with  which  the  chief  speaker 
seasoned  his  discourse.  His  companion  j^erceived  this 
and  desired  him  not  to  swear.  "  Me  swear !"  replied 
he,  with  seeming  surprise,  "  I  never  swear  in  the  great- 
est extremity." 

James  Kathrens  had  for  the  last  two  years  found  a 
considerable  amendment  in  his  health,  and  of  course  his 
prospects  began  to  wear  a  brighter  aspect,  when,  in  the 
absence  of  the  billet-master,  being  obliged  as  postmaster 
to  stand  out  in  the  cold,  giving  billets  to  a  party  of  the 
army,  he  was  seized  with  an  inflammation  on  his  lungs 
and  died  in  a  few  days.  His  mind,  in  this  time  of  suf- 
fering, was  preserved  in  a  quiet  state  :  he  settled  his 
outward  affairs,  and  expressed  his  resignation  and  his 
o-ood  will  to  all.  He  was  at  his  own  desire  buried  in 
our  graveyard.  His  afflicted  widow,  who  might  com- 
fort herself  with  the  thought  of  having  so  well  per- 
formed her  duties,  remained  in  the  same  house,  exerting 
herself  for  the  sake  of  her  two  children,  and  by  degrees 
the  native  content  and  cheerfulness  of  her  happy  dis- 
position returned.  She  was  sister  to  our  sister-in-law 
Lydia  Shackleton,  and  some  years  afterwards  married  a 


i797']  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  217 

person  named  Chambers,  with  whom  she  removed  to 
reside  in  Dublin. 

Benjamin  Eotch,  a  native  of  Nantucket,  son  to  the 
honourable  William  Eotch,  stopped  a  day  or  two  at 
Ballitore  in  making  a  tour  through  Ireland.  Uniting 
as  he  did  the  Quaker  and  the  gentleman,  his  conversa- 
tion was  very  pleasant.  In  France  he  was  acquainted 
with  Thomas  Paine,  whom  he  described  as  a  drunken, 
dissolute  man,  whose  company  was  avoided  by  sober, 
well-bred  persons.  He  also  knew  Mary  Woolstoncraft, 
whom  he  liked,  as  she  was  candid  and  engaging. 

Eobinson,  the  minister  of  Bomba  Hall,  I  suppose  a 
curate  for  either  Stratford  or  Dunlavin,  an  industrious, 
intelligent  little  man,  sometimes  called  upon  us.  He 
expressed  very  liberal  sentiments,  and  rather  more  in 
the  Tiew  way  than  one  should  expect  from  his  cloth. 

Eepublicanism,  both  in  church  and  state  affairs, 
seemed  now  to  be  very  prevalent;  and  serious  divisions 
arose  in  our  Society. 

James  Wliite,  in  leaving  Ballitore  School,  left  behind 
him  a  tender  remembrance  of  those  virtues  and  talents 
which,  already  adorning  the  youth,  promised  to  dignify 
the  man. 

In  1797,  our  private  sorrows  were  united  with  the 
public  lamentation  when  the  death  of  Edmund  Burke 
was  announced.  A  short  time  before,  I  had  received 
the  following  kind  answer  to  my  enquiry  after  his 
health,  dictated  by  him  and  signed  by  his  own  hand. 


2lS  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^797- 

EDMUND    BURKE    TO    MARY    LEADBEATER. 

"  Bath,  23rd  May,  1797. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Leadbeater, 

"  I  feel,  as  I  ought  to  do,  your  constant 
"  hereditary  kindness  to  me  .  and  mine  ;  what  you 
"  have  heard  of  my  illness  is  far  from  exaggerated. 
"  I  am,  thank  God,  alive;  and  that  is  all.  Hastening 
"  to  my  dissolution,  I  have  to  bless  Providence  that 
"  I  do  not  suffer  a  great  deal  of  pain. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  the  vexatious  dis- 
"  pute  which  has  been  raised  against  you  about  the 
"  few  miserable  trees,  of  which,  if  I  do  not  mistake, 
"  I  remember  the  planting,  is  likely  to  be  settled  to 
"  your  satisfaction.  I  have  never  heard  of  anything 
"  so  miserable  as  this  attempt  upon  you. 

"  Mrs.  Burke  has  a  tolerable  share  of  health  in 
"  every  respect  except  much  use  of  her  limbs.  She 
"  remembers  your  mother's  most  good-natured  atten- 
"  tions,  as  I  am  sure  I  do,  with  much  gratitude. 

"  I  have  ever  been  an  admirer  of  your  talents  and 
"  virtues  ;  and  shall  ever  wish  most  cordially  for  every 
"  thing  which  can  tend  to  your  credit  and  satisfaction. 
"  I  therefore  congratulate  you  very  heartily  on  the 
"  birth  of  your  son  ;  and  pray  remember  me  to  the 
"  representative  of  your  family,  who,  I  hope,  still 
*'  keeps  up  the  school  of  wliich  I  have  so  tender  a 
''  remembrance  ;  though,  after  so  long  an  absence 
"  and  so  many  important  events  of  every  kind  that 
"  have  distracted  my  thoughts,  I  hardly  dare  to  ask 
"  for  any  one,   not  knowing  whether  they  are  living 


1797-J  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  219 

"  or  dead,  lest  I  should  be  the  means  of  awakening 
"  unpleasant  recollections. 

"  Believe  me  to  be,  with  the  most  respectful  and 
"  affectionate  regard, 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Leadbeater, 
"  your  faitliful  friend, 

"  and  very  humble  servant, 

"  Edmund  Burke. 

"  P.  S. — Pray  remember  me  to  Mr.  Leadbeater.  I 
"  have  been  at  Bath  for  these  four  months  to  no  pur- 
"  pose;  I  am  therefore  to  be  removed  to  my  own  house 
"  at  Beaconsfield  to-morrow,  to  be  nearer  to  a  habita- 
"  tion  more  permanent,  humbly  and  fearfully  hoping 
"  that  my  better  part  may  find  a  better  mansion." 

This  summer  a  bonfire  and  the  first  illuminations 
ever  seen  in  Ballitore  testified  the  joy  for  Colonel 
Keatinge's  having  gained  the  election  for  the  county  of 
Kildare.  His  amiable  lady  instituted  an  annual  spin- 
ning match  in  the  court  of  her  own  house,  and  dis- 
tributed five  prizes.  This  bid  fair  to  awaken  a  spirit  of 
industry ;  but  the  pleasant  prospect  was  soon  overcast. 

Our  valuable  friend  Sarah  Talbot  from  America  be- 
ing here,  my  sister  Sally  felt  it  her  duty  to  accompany 
her  in  a  religious  visit  to  England,  Scotland,  &c.  My 
dear  mother  willingly  resigned  her,  for,  though  her 
mental  faculties  were  in  a  state  of  rapid  decay,  her 
religious  sensibility  still  remained. 

Soldiers  now  constituted  a  part  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Ballitore,  and  the  Cork  militia  were  stationed  here. 


220  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.        [^79/- 

William  Cooke,  of  Ballylea,  about  three  miles  hence, 
was  attacked  by  a  number  of  men,  who  set  fire  to 
his  house  and  demanded  his  arms.  The  house  was 
burned,  the  family  went  to  Baltinglass,  and  we  all  saw 
with  dread  the  approaching  flames  of  discord. 


221 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 
1798. 

A  rejoicing  household. — Mysterious  disappearances, — Popular 
militia  replaced  by  Orangemen. — Free  quarters. — Seditious 
papers. — Robbery  by  the  yeomen. — Terms  offered  to  the  sedi- 
tious.— Colonel  Keatinge  and  his  family  leave  Ireland. — Public 
whippings. — Six  yeomen  shot.— Alarming  rumours. — The  rebel- 
lion breaks  forth. — Skirmish  at  Narraghmore. — The  rebels  enter 
Ballitore. — Mm"der  of  Richard  Yeates  of  Moone. — Skirmish  on 
the  bog-road. — Abraham  Shackleton  and  others  taken  prisoners 
by  the  rebels. — Courage  and  benevolence  of  young  Betsy  Shack- 
leton.— Sad  state  of  affairs  in  BaUitore. — Young  girls  in  costume 
accompany  the  insurgents. — Merciless  conduct  of  the  mihtary 
in  Carlow. — John  Bewley  appeals  to  Colonel  Campbell  on  be- 
half of  the  people.— His  negociation  fails. — The  military  de- 
stroy Colonel  Keatinge's  house,  and  murder  his  cousin. — Balh. 
tore  delivered  up  to  rapine,  fire,  and  slaughter  for  two  hours. 
—Shocking  incidents. — Cruel  murder  of  Owen  Finn,  Tom 
Duffy,  and  Dr.  Frank  Johnson. —  Friendly  interference  of  Cap- 
tain Palmer. — Escape  of  priest  CuDen. — Visit  to  the  bereaved 
widow  of  Dr.  Johnson. — The  doctor's  funeral. — Timolin,  Nar- 
raghmore,   and   Crookstown    ravaged The   insurgents   send 

hostages,  and  deliver  up  their  anus     __         __       221  to  251 

T^HIS  year,  1 798,  whicli  in  its  progress  Avas  clouded 
with  so  many  horrors,  02)ened  upon  me  mroe  delight- 


222  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

fully  than  any  former  year  had  done ;  for  on  the  morn- 
ing of  its  first  day  my  beloved  husband's  life,  which  for 
fourteen  days  was  su&pended  in  a  very  doubtful  scale, 
rose  up  with  hope,  and  the  crisis  of  a  dangerous  fever 
was  past.  It  was  like  escaping  from  a  prison-liouse, 
from  torture,  and  from  darkness,  to  breathe  the  free 
air,  to  shake  off  the  pamful  shackles,  and  to  gaze  upon 
the  sun,  when  this  inestimable  favour  was  granted. 
In  this  time  of  d.eep  trial  I  received  all  the  comfort 
and  aid  which  friendship  and  sympathy  could  bestow. 
My  husband  was  to  live.  When  that  was  the  case,  all 
means  co-operated  to  that  end.  The  interest  caused  by 
the  danger  of  one  so  much  beloved  and  respected  was 
exceeding  and  extensive,  and  among  our  immediate 
neighbours  it  was  intense.  It  was  touching  to  see  one 
of  his  labourers,  who  would  not  be  denied  the  privilege 
of  seemg  him,  as  he  believed  for  the  last  time,  approach 
his  bed,  take  his  fevered  hand,  and  weeping,  exclaim, 
"  Oh,  my  dear  master !"  Even  the  great  mastiff  house- 
dog came  pattering  up  stairs,  laid  his  head  on  the  bed, 
and  looked  at  his  master  long  and  wistfully,  with 
almost  human  affection  in  his  eyes.  It  was  delightful 
when  we  could  meet  our  friends  at  our  fireside  again, 
and  receive  their  unaffected  salutations,  with  smiles  and 
tears  which  welcomed  us  once  more  to  health  and 
happiness. 

The  attack  on  Willowbrook  alarmed  Robert  Bayly,. 
who  fled  from  Ballitore  with  his  handsome  wife  in  a 
fright,  declaring  that  every  man,  woman  and  child  in 
the  village  were  "  United  Irishmen."     Now  and  then 


1798.]  THE  ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  223 

a  person  was  missed,  and  this  misfortune  was  unfeel- 
ingly accounted  for  by  saying  that  "  Brownie  had  eaten 
them."  These  mysterious  disappearances  were  horrible, 
and  no  certainty  of  the  fate  of  those  victims  of  party 
rage  was  ever  obtained.  A  time  had  come  when 
nothing  but  what  was  honest,  and  fair,  and  "  above 
board"  could  stand  the  test.  Amongst  other  precau- 
tions, the  names  of  the  inhabitants  were  posted  on  the 
doors  of  each  house,  and  the  authorities  had  liberty  to 
enter  at  any  hour,  night  or  day,  to  see  whether  they 
were  within  or  not.  This  appeared  a  necessary  precau- 
tion, yet  it  exposed  the  quiet  of  families  to  be  sadly 
broken  in  upon. 

Houses  were  now  searched  for  fire-arms,  proving  the 
wisdom  of  our  friends  in  banishing  all  such  weapons 
from  theirs.  Notices  were  put  up  demanding  the  arms 
taken  by  the  "  United  men"  to  be  restored,  on  pain  of 
allomng  the  military  to  live  at  free  quarters,  for  many 
nightly  incursions  had  been  made  by  these  robbers  to 
plunder  houses  of  whatever  arms  they  contained.  A 
detachment  of  the  King's  County  militia  was  at  this 
time  sent  here  from  Athy,  where  Sandford  Palmer,  an 
old  Ballitore  boy,  was  stationed  as  their  captain.  The 
men  were  very  well  liked  ;  perhaps  it  was  for  that 
reason  they  were  so  soon  removed,  the  villagers  escort- 
ing them  on  their  way  with  tears  and  lamentations ; 
and  when  my  husband,  from  liis  fields,  saw  them 
departing,  he  sent  his  workmen  to  join  the  procession. 
Perhaps  these  painful  feolmgs  sprung  from  an  uncon- 
scious presentiment,  for  if  those  men  had  remained 


224  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^TP^. 

here,  Ballitore  miglit  have  escaped  its  subsequent  dis- 
tresses. They  were  replaced  by  the  Tyrone  mihtia, 
mostly  composed  of  professed  Orangemen,  wearing  the 
ribbon  of  their  party. 

Hitherto  the  soldiers  were  quartered  in  our  houses, 
but  found  themselves  in  provisions ;  the  threat  respect- 
ing free  quarters  was  now  put  into  execution ;  foraging 
parties  went  into  the  country,  shops  and  private  houses 
were  searched  for  whisky,  which  was  ordered  to  be 
spilled ;  and  seditious  papers  were  sought  for.  On  the 
day  of  this  search  I  was  not  at  home,  else  I  suppose  I 
should  have  opened  my  desk  in  the  security  of  consci- 
ous innocence,  quite  forgetting  that  I  had  tlirown  into 
it  one  of  the  squibs  then  privately  circulated,  which 
in  very  tolerable  poetry  avowed  disloyal  sentiments. 
I  started  at  the  danger  it  was  so  near  bringing  upon 
us,  and  thankfully  flung  it  into  the  fire.  Account 
was  taken  of  the  stock  and  provisions  in  the  village, 
that  none  should  be  sent  away ;  and  six  cwt.  of  bacon 
which  was  being  sent  to  Dublin  by  one  of  the  villagers 
was  seized  by  the  yeomen.  Kobert  Bay  ley  was  pursued 
because  he  attempted  to  take  away  one  of  his  own 
horses  ;  his  horse  was  captured,  and  himself  made  a 
prisoner.  Ephraim  Boake's  house  was  plundered,  and 
he  very  narrowly  escaped  personal  injury. 

These  attacks  on  the  most  loyal  people  amongst 
us  were  not  to  be  borne.  Some  of  the  inhabitants 
went  to  Colonel  Colin  Campbell,  who  commanded  the 
district,  and  got  protections  which  stopped  further 
depredations  upon  them,  and  procured  the  restoration  of 


1798-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  22^ 

their  property.  Colonel  Campbell  was  willing  to  grant 
protections  to  all  peaceable  people,  but  none  of  the 
Friends  aj^plied  for  them,  some  doubt  being  entertained 
of  its  being  consistent  with  our  principles  to  apply  for 
armed  protection.  We  were  thus  exposed  to  the  im- 
putation of  being  disaffected,  and  the  provision  we  had 
for  our  families  was  rudely  taken  out  of  our  houses 
for  the  yeomen.  This  was  an  unpleasant  sight  to  the 
soldiers  who  were  with  us  on  free  quarters,  and  they 
hid  our  bacon  for  us  and  for  themselves.  Great  waste 
was  committed,  and  unchecked  robbery.  One  hundred 
cars  loaded  with  hay,  potatoes,  oats,  etc.  led  by  the  poor 
owners,  and  guarded  by  soldiers,  were  in  one  day 
marched  into  Ballitore.  Colonel  Keatinge  urged  his 
yeomen  to  take  with  a  sparing  hand ;  to  remember 
that  this  was  the  "  scarce  season,"  when  the  new  food 
was  not  yet  come  in  and  the  old  was  nearly  exhausted, 
and  not  to  bring  famine  upon  the  country.  But  he 
spoke  to  deaf  ears,  for  pity  seemed  banished  from  the 
martial  bosom.  One  exception  I  must  record  ;  one  of 
those  men  quartered  upon  us  refused  to  partake  of  the 
plunder  upon  which  so  many  of  his  comrades  riotously 
feasted,  and  appeared  much  dejected — yet  he,  as  well 
as  another  of  a  very  opposite  cast  of  mind,  fell  by  the 
insurgents  when  the  burst  came.  Threats  were  multi- 
plied, and  the  military  poured  in  one  day,  so  as  to 
terrify  the  scared  inhabitants  with  the  prospect  of 
immediate  scarcity.  Discontents  arose  between  the 
army  and  yeomanry.  Public  notice  was  given  that  the 
nightly  patrol  should  be  withdi'awn,  to  give  opportunity 


226  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITQRE.  [^yp^- 

for  returning  the  arms  of  which  the  "United  men"  had 
possessed  themselves,  and  that  if  not  returned  within  a 
stated  time,  the  whole  neighbourhood  should  be  burnt. 

Colonel  Keatinge  went  in  person  to  the  chapel,  and 
with  tears  and  fervent  entreaties  besought  the  mis- 
guided people  to  comply  with  these  conditions  :  but  he 
entreated  in  vain.  So  when  he  saw  that  even  his  influ- 
ence could  not  avail  to  preserve  them,  he  and  his  lady 
left  the  country.  They  left  their  dear  Narraghmore — 
left  it  never  to  return,  and  their  loss  has  never  ceased 
to  be  felt  and  deplored.  A  large  quantity  of  arms  was 
left  as  directed,  but  broken  into  pieces,  and  thus  ren- 
dered useless.  The  clouds  gathered  darker  and  darker 
in  our  political  horizon,  though  nothing  could  be  sweeter, 
calmer,  or  brighter  than  our  vernal  sky  and  balmy  gales. 
In  the  midst  of  these  tumults  a  dear  friend  of  ours 
died ;  we  could  not  lament  a  tranquil  escape  to  a  world 
of  eternal  rest.  My  mind  felt  wearied  with  what 
appeared  to  me  oppressive  in  the  melancholy  state  of 
the  times — rule  and  misrule  fighting  with  each  other, 
and  the  country  torn  to  pieces  with  the  strife. 

To  the  Tyrone  militia  were  now  added  the  Suffolk 
fencibles  ;  and  the  Ancient  Britons,  dressed  in  blue 
with  much  silver  lace — a  very  pretty  dress — came  from 
Athy,  seized  the  smiths'  tools  to  prevent  them  from 
making  pikes,  and  made  prisoners  of  the  smiths  them- 
selves. I  could  not  see  without  emotion  poor  Owen 
Finn  and  his  brother,  handcuffed  and  weeping,  as  they 
walked  after  the  car  containing  those  implements  of 
industry  which  had  enabled  them  to  provide  comforta- 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  227 

bly  for  the  family.  Several  of  these  were  whipped 
publicly  to  extort  confessions  about  the  pikes.  The 
torture  was  excessive,  and  the  victims  were  long  in 
recovering  ;  and  in  almost  every  case  it  was  applied 
fruitlessly.  Guards  were  placed  at  every  entrance  into 
the  village,  to  prevent  people  from  entering  or  leaving 
it.  The  village  once  so  peaceful  exhibited  a  scene  of 
tumult  and  dismay,  and  the  air  rang  with  the  shrieks 
of  the  sufferers  and  the  lamentations  of  those  who  be- 
held them  suffer.  These  violent  measures  caused  a 
great  many  pikes  to  be  brought  in:  the  street  was 
lined  with  those  who  came  to  deliver  up  the  instru- 
ments of  death. 

A  party  of  military  from  Naas  entered  Ballitore, 
and  took  prisoners  twelve  of  our  neighbours,  whom 
they  removed  to  Naas  gaol.  Most  of  the  villagers 
stood  outside  their  doors  to  see  them  depart.  They 
looked  composed  for  the  most  part,  though  followed  by 
their  weeping  Avives  and  children.  One  child,  mth  his 
cries  of,  "  0  father !  father  !"  excited  great  compassion. 
Six  yeomen  were  taken  prisoners  to  Dunlavin.  I  was 
walking  in  our  garden  when  they  passed  on  a  car,  ^vith 
their  coats  turned  inside  out,  and  one  of  their  guards,  a 
mere  boy,  cried  out  to  me  in  a  tone  of  insulting  jocu- 
larity. We,  who  did  not  understand  this  case,  were 
only  qualified  to  see  one  side,  and,  though  we  forbore 
audibly  expressing  our  disapprobation,  our  looks  be- 
trayed the  depression  of  our  minds.  Tliis  excited 
jealousy  of  us.  How  ill-foimded  !  for  who  could  expect 
us  to  rejoice  at  the  misery  and  degradation  of  our  fel- 
ls' 


228  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

low-creatnres  and  neiglibonrs,  or  even  to  behold  tliem 
unmoved  ?  These  unfortunate  yeomen  were  shot  ! 
There  was  too  much  exultation  in  the  military;  they 
were  not  aware,  perhaps,  how  deeply  an  insult  is  felt 
and  resented,  and  that  an  injury  is  sometimes  more 
easily  pardoned. 

The  morning  of  the  24th  of  the  Fifth-month  (May) 
orders  came  for  the  soldiers  cpiartered  here  to  march  to 
I^aas.  A  report  was  circulated  that  Naas  gaol  had  been 
broken  open, — that  Dublin  was  in  arms,  and  so  forth. 
All  was  uncertainty,  except  that  something  serious  had 
happened,  as  the  mail-coach  had  been  stopped.  The 
insurrection  was  to  begin  in  Dublin,  and  the  mail-coach 
not  being  suffered  to  leave  the  city  was  the  signal  for 
general  revolt.  This  purpose  was  defeated  by  the 
vigilance  of  government ;  the  mail-coach  had  got  to  Kaas 
before  it  was  stopped,  yet  its  detention  here  persuaded 
the  people  that  the  day  was  their  own.  They  threw  off 
the  appearance  of  loyalty,  and  rose  in  avowed  rebellion. 
In  the  morning  the  Suffolk  fencibles  first  marched  out, 
nine  men  remaining  to  guard  their  baggage  at  the  Mill, 
which  was  their  barrack.  The  Tyrone  militia  followed, 
taking  their  baggage  with  them.  All  was  hurry  and 
confusion  in  the  village.  Several  who  had  kept  out  of 
sight  now  appeared  dressed  in  green,  that  colour  so  dear 
to  United  Irishmen,  and  proportionably  abhorred  by 
the  loyal.  The  Suffolks  went  by  the  high  road,  the 
Tyrones  through  Narraghmore.  As  they  marched  out, 
a  young  woman  privately  and  with  tears  told  their 
lieutenant  her  apprehensions  that  their  enemies  lay  in 


J79S.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  229 

ambush  in  I^arragliuiore  wood.  He  was  therefore  pre- 
pared to  meet  them,  and  sad  havoc  ensued ;  many  on 
both  sides  fell,  particularly  among  the  undisciplined 
multitude.  The  courthouse  at  ^N'arraghmore  was  at- 
tacked, and  many  met  their  death  there.  We  heard  the 
reports  of  firearms,  and  every  hour  the  alarm  increased. 
Dr.  Johnson  had  been  sent  for  to  Narraghmore  to 
dress  wounds  ;  the  rabble  despoiled  him  of  his  horse 
and  case  of  instruments,  and  sent  him  back  jaded  and 
worn  out.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  John 
Dunne  and  many  others  came  as  far  as  the  bridge  with 
pikes,  and  Dr.  Jolinson  turned  them  back  ;  but  not 
long  after  two  or  three  hundred  men,  armed  with  pikes, 
knives,  and  pitchforks,  and  bearing  sticks  with  green 
rags  fluttering  from  them,  came  in  at  the  western  side, 
headed  by  Malachi  Delany  on  a  white  horse,  and  took 
possession  of  the  town  ;  Dr.  Johnson,  as  representative 
of  the  yeomanry-guard,  having  capitulated  on  condition 
of  persons  and  property  being  safe.  I  saw  from  an 
upper  window  a  crowd  coming  towards  our  kitchen- 
door  ;  I  went  down  and  found  many  armed  men, 
who  desired  to  have  refreshments,  especially  drink.  I 
brought  them  milk,  and  was  cutting  a  loaf  of  bread, 
when  a  little  elderly  man,  called  "  the  Canny,'^  took  it 
kindly  out  of  my  hand  and  divided  it  himself,  saying, 
"  Be  decent,  boys,  be  decent."  Encouraged  by  having 
found  a  friend,  I  ventured  to  tell  them  that  so  many 
armed  men  in  the  room  frightened  me.  The  warriors 
condescended  to  my  fears.  "  We'll  be  out  in  a  shot," 
they  replied,  and  in  a  minute  the  kitchen  was  empty. 


230  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [l79S- 

Daniel  Horan,  a  young  farmer  from  the  Long  Ave- 
nue, was  standing  in  our  yard — a  fine  looking  fellow. 
I  had  observed  a  dark  cloud  upon  his  countenance, 
when,  a  few  days  before,  he  was  requesting  a  protection 
from  the  officers  ;  that  cloud  was  now  gone,  and  joy 
and  animation  played  on  every  feature,  unaccompanied 
by  any  expression  of  mahgnity.     A  party  of  insurgents, 
as  they  went  to  the  Mill,  met  some  of  the  wives  of  the 
soldiers  stationed  there,  whom  they  sent  back  to  tell 
their  husbands  that  if  they  surrendered  they  should 
not  be  injured.     But  the  women,  instead  of  delivering 
the  message,  ran  shrieking  to  announce  the  approach 
of  the  rebels,  and  the  soldiers  prepared  to  stand  on  the 
defensive  ;  but,  when  they  saw  such  a  multitude,  fled. 
In  the  pursuit  over  Max's-hill  a  soldier  turned,  fired, 
and  shot  Paddy  Dempsy  dead.     They  were  soon  over- 
powered, and  their  lives  were  spared  only  on  condition 
that  he  who  had  killed  the  insurgent  should  be  pointed 
out ;  with  this  hard  alternative  his  comrades  reluctantly 
complied,    and   the  soldier  soon  lay  dead  beside  his 
victim.     Another  of  the  soldiers  was  killed  by  a  shot 
from  the  Mill-field,  which  reached  him  about  the  middle 
of  the  avenue,  and  his  remains  were  buried  in  the  ditch 
just  by  the  spot  where  he  fell.     Most  of  the  others 
were  wounded,  but  I  believe  none  mortally. 

Malachi  Delany  exerted  himself  to  prevent  blood- 
shed, and  showed  as  much  humanity  as  courage.  He 
had  thrown  off  no  mask,  for  he  never  wore  one,  and  he 
proved  himself  to  be  a  generous  enemy.  A  great  num- 
ber of  strange  faces  surrounded  us,  and  a  message  was 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  23 1 

brought  to  me  to  request  any  thing  of  a  green  colour. 
I  told  them  we  could  not  join  any  party.  "  What !  not 
the  strongest  1 "  enquired  one  of  the  strangers.  "  I^one 
at  all" — and  though  our  parlour  tables  were  covered 
with  green  cloth,  they  urged  their  request  no  further. 

Eichard  Yeates,  son  to  Squire  Yeates  of  Moone,  was 
brought  in  a  prisoner,  his  yeomanry  coat  turned.  A 
private  of  the  yeomanry  corps  tt>  which  he  belonged  was 
also  brought  into  our  parlour,  where  my  husband  and  I 
sat  at  tea.  He  was  an  old  man  ;  we  made  him  sit 
down  to  tea,  and  invited  also  his  captors,  but  they  de- 
clined ;  one  of  them  went  to  the  table  and  helped 
liimself  to  bread  and  butter,  looked  at  himself  in  the 
mirror,  and  remarked  it  was  "wartime."  The  prisoner, 
vdth  tears  trickling  down  his  cheeks,  spoke  sadly  of  his 
seven  children  ;  his  guards  strove  to  console  him  by 
telling  him  that  "  he  was  an  honest  Eoman,  and  should 
not  be  hurt."  Presently  we  heard  a  shot,  and  those 
strangers  immediately  said  they  "  supposed  Eichard 
Yeates  was  shot."  This  was  really  the  case.  He  was 
taken  into  a  house,  and  in  despite  of  his  own  entreaties, 
the  endeavours  of  many  others  to  save  him,  and  even 
the  efforts  of  Priest  Cullen,  who  begged  the  life  of  the 
young  man  on  his  knees, — he  was  murdered,  being 
piked  and  shot !  That  day  liis  father  had  been  request- 
ed, I  suppose  by  one  who  knew  what  was  intended, 
not  to  let  his  son  leave  the  house ;  but  he  could  not 
prevent  him — he  would  jom  the  corps.  His  brother-in- 
law,  Norcott  D'Esterre,  narrowly  escaped  being  taken  a 
prisoner  at  the  same  time. 


232  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [^798. 

The  insurgents  at  length  left,  first  placing  cars  on 
the  bridge  as  a  barricade  against  the  army.  They  took 
two  of  our  horses.  We  saw  several  houses  on  fire 
northwards,  and  while  standing  gazing  at  them  outside 
our  door,  bullets  whizzed  by  our  ears,  and  warned  us  to 
go  in  for  safety.  There  had  been  an  engagement  on 
the  Bog-road  between  the  army  and  the  insurgents  ; 
the  latter  were  worsted,  and  Malachi  Delany,  finding 
his  efforts  to  rally  them  were  in  vain,  fled  along  with 
them.  The  soldiers  retreating  to  Athy,  had  fired  at 
random  those  shots  which  we  had  heard,  and  almost 
felt,  and  by  which  a  poor  woman  was  killed  and  her 
daughter's  arm  broken.  They  had  also  set  the  houses 
on  fire ;  and  one  Serjeant,  one  might  think  impelled  by 
his  fate,  came  into  the  village  with  a  baggage  car.  It 
was  thought  he  must  have  been  in  liquor,  for  had  he 
his  reason,  he  could  not  have  thus  exposed  himself  to 
his  enemies  in  the  height  of  their  rage.  He  had  just 
gone  to  bed  in  his  lodgings  when  those  enemies  rushed 
in,  and  quickly  put  an  end  to  his  life. 

The  insurgents  now  returned  from  the  Bog-road,  and, 
having  increased  to  an  immense  multitude,  went  to 
Castledermot  late  in  the  evening.  Laying  our  beds  on 
the  floor,  lest  bullets  should  enter  the  windows  to  our 
destruction,  we  got  some  disturbed  sleep.  All  became 
quiet,  and  in  the  morning  messages  came  to  us  from 
our  neighbours  to  tell  us  they  were  living.  This  was 
indeed  good  news,  for  we  dreaded  that  many  would 
never  have  seen  the  light  of  morning.  The  party  who 
attacked  Castledermot  were  repulsed  by  yeomanry  who 


IJgS.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  233 

fired  at  them  from  the  windows.  The  crowd  dispersed, 
and  did  not  assemble  here  in  such  numbers  again. 

As  my  friend  and  I  walked  out  to  see  a  sick  neigh- 
bour, we  looked  with  fearful  curiosity  over  a  wall, 
inside  of  which  we  saw  lying  the  youthful  form  of  the 
murdered  Eichard  Yeates.  There  he  had  been  thrown 
after  his  death,  his  clothes  undisturbed,  but  his  bosom 
all  bloody.  For  many  days  after  I  thought  my  food 
tasted  of  blood,  and  at  night  I  was  frequently  awakened 
by  my  feelings  of  horror,  and  stretched  forth  my  hand 
to  feel  if  my  husband  was  safe  at  my  side. 

All  the  horses  which  could  be  got  were  taken  by  the 
insurgents.  A  man  came  to  me  with  a  drawn  sword 
in  his  hand,  demanding  my  own  mare.  I  told  him 
that  one  of  the  Tyrone  officers  had  borrowed  her,  and 
fortunately  another  man  who  knew  me  bore  testimony 
to  my  veracity,  so  that  I  was  left  unharmed.  \Yhen 
I  saw  how  the  fine  horses  were  abused  and  galloped 
without  mercy  by  the  insurgents,  I  rejoiced  that  my 
Nell  was  not  in  their  hands. 

A  man  afterwards  came,  with  a  horse -pistol  in  his 
hand,  to  take  my  husband.  My  brother  had  been  pre- 
viously taken,  together  with  some  of  his  guests.  They 
were  all  to  be  brought  to  the  camp  in  the  hollow  side 
of  the  hill  at  the  east,  and  when  the  soldiers  came, 
the  insurgents  said  they  should  be  placed  in  the  front 
of  the  battle,  to  stop  a  bullet  if  they  would  not  fire 
one.  This  man,  not  finding  my  husband  below,  and 
thinking  he  was  concealed,  ran  upstairs  where  our  lit- 
tle children  were  in  bed,  with  the  huge  pistol  in  his 


2.34  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [lyp^- 

hand,  swearing  horribly  that  he  would  send  the  con- 
tents of  it  tlixough  his  head  if  he  did  not  go  with  him. 
I  stood  at  the  door,  less  terrified  than  I  could  have 
expected,  and  asked  a  young  man  who  had  accompa- 
nied the  other  if  they  meant  to  kill  us.  "  To  kill  you  V 
he  repeated,  in  a  tone  expressive  of  surprise  and  sorrow 
at  such  a  supposition.  At  length  he  prevailed  on  his 
angry  companion  to  go  away,  threatening  as  he  went, 
that  if  the  Quakers  did  not  take  up  arms  their  houses 
should  he  in  flames,  "  as  Mr.  Bayly's  was."  I  was 
sorry  for  the  destruction  of  the  Hall,  but  soon  found 
that,  though  it  had  been  attempted,  the  fire  had  been 
put  out  before  much  damage  had  been  done.  My  hus- 
band, having  gone  to  visit  my  mother,  was  not  found, 
and  did  not  know  he  had  been  sought  for.  Many 
came  to  us  weeping  and  trembling  for  their  fi-iends  ; 
and  to  the  doctor,  who,  having  much  influence  with 
the  people,  exerted  it  to  do  them  good.  We  could  do 
nothing. 

The  cars  laden  with  goods  from  Dublin,  which  the 
carriers  were  bringing  to  our  shopkeepers,  were  plun- 
dered, and  a  barricade  made  of  them  across  the  road 
leading  down  to  the  village.  The  insurgents  talked 
boldly  of  forming  a  camp  on  the  Curragh.  All  who 
were  missing  were  reported  to  have  fallen  in  the  am- 
bush in  the  wood,  or  in  the  encounter  at  tlie  Bog-road. 
At  both  places  many  did  fall.  The  wife  of  one  of  my 
brother's  labourers  was  told  that  he  lay  dead  in  the 
wood ;  she  hastened  thither  ;  but  when  she  reached 
the  spot,  she  found  the  face  so  disfigured  with  wounds 


IjgS.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  235 

that  she  could  not  recognize  it.  She  examined  the 
linen — it  was  not  his ;  even  this  melancholy  satisfac- 
tion was  denied  her.  But  what  a  satisfaction  was  in 
store  for  her  !  She  met  her  husband  alive  and  well, 
and  brought  him  in  triumph  to  the  house  of  their  master, 
whose  young  daughter  Betsy  had  participated  in  the 
anguish  of  the  supposed  widow,  and  now  shared  her  joy 
with  all  the  vivid  warmth  of  her  ardent  nature.  Though 
not  more  than  fifteen  years  old,  she  was  endued  with  un- 
common courage  and  prudence  in  this  time  of  trial. 
Her  bodily  powers  were  exerted  in  paying  attention  to 
her  father's  numerous  guests  ;  for  over  a  hundred  people 
sought  refuge  under  his  roof ;  and  the  strength  of  her 
mind  seemed  to  invigorate  all  around  her.  A  soldier 
lay  ill  of  a  fever  in  a  house  in  the  garden.  It  would 
have  been  death  to  him  if  his  asylum  were  known  to 
the  insurgents  ;  so  she  carefully  attended  to  all  his 
wants  herself.     Such  was  Betsy  Shackleton, 

Everyone  seemed  to  think  that  safety  and  security 
were  to  be  found  in  my  brother's  house.  Tliither  the 
insurgents  brought  their  prisoners,  and  tliither,  also, 
their  own  wounded  and  suffering  comrades.  It  was 
an  awful  sight  to  behold  in  that  large  parlour  such  a 
mingled  assembly  of  throbbing,  anxious  hearts — my 
brother's  own  family,  silent  tears  rolling  down  their 
faces,  the  wives  of  the  loyal  officers,  the  wives  of  the 
soldiers,  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  insurgents,  the 
numerous  guests,  the  prisoners,  the  trembling  women 
— aU  dreading  to  see  the  door  open,  lest  some  new 
distress,  some  fresh  announcement  of  horrors  should 


0,^6  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^798- 

enter.  It  was  awful ;  but  every  scene  was  now  awful, 
and  we  knew  not  what  a  day  might  bring  forth. 

All  our  houses  were  thronged  with  people  seeking 
refreshment  and  repose,  and  threatening  to  take  posses- 
sion for  the  purpose  of  firing  upon  the  soldiery  when 
they  should  come.  Ours  seemed  peculiarly  adapted  for 
such  a  purpose,  being  a  corner  house,  and  in  a  central 
situation ;  so,  believing  its  destruction  was  inevitable, 
I  packed  up  in  a  small  trunk  such  portable  articles  as 
I  esteemed  of  most  value,  amongst  which  were  some  of 
my  dear  friends'  letters,  and  I  made  packages  of  clothes 
for  my  husband,  myself,  and  the  little  ones.  I  wore 
two  pair  of  pockets,  wishing  to  preserve  as  much  as 
I  could  ;  though  in  my  heart  I  had  not  much  fear 
of  an  engagement,  believing  that  the  spirit  which  had 
animated  the  insurgents  had  evaporated. 

Young  girls  dressed  in  white,  with  green  ribbons, 
and  carrying  pikes,  accompanied  the  insurgents.  They 
had  patrols  and  a  countersign,  but  it  was  long  before 
they  could  decide  upon  the  password.  At  length  they 
fixed  upon  the  word  "  Scourges."  Sentinels  were  placed 
in  various  parts  of  the  village.  One  day,  as  I  went  to 
my  brother's,  a  sentinel  called  to  a  man  who  walked 
with  me  not  to  advance  on  pain  of  being  shot.  The 
sentinel  was  my  former  friend,  "the  Canny."  I  ap- 
proached him  and  asked  would  he  shoot  me  if  I  pro- 
ceeded. "  Shoot  you  ! "  exclaimed  he,  taking  my  hand 
and  kissing  it,  adding  a  eulogium  on  the  Quakers.  I 
told  him  it  would  be  well  if  they  were  all  of  our  way 
of  thinking,  for  then  there  would  be  no  such  work 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  237 

as  the  present.  I  tliought  I  could  comprehend  "the 
Canny's"  incoherent  answer,  "Aye,  but  you  know  our 
Saviour — the  scourges,  oh !  the  scourges ! "  With  little 
exception,  we  were  kindly  treated,  and  the  females 
amongst  us  were  frequently  encouraged  to  dismiss  our 
fears,  with  hearty  shakes  of  the  hand,  and  assurances 
that  they  would  "  burn  those  who  would  burn  us." 
We  began  to  be  familiarized  vdih  these  dangers ;  and 
added  our  entreaties  to  the  representations  of  our  men 
that  they  should  give  up  their  arms,  and  resign  the 
project  which  threatened  them  wdth  destruction. 

They  had  been  mistaken  as  to  their  prospect  of 
success.  Dublin  was  safe,  and  at  Naas  and  KilcuUen 
great  slaughter  of  the  insurgents  had  been  made,  though 
on  KilcuUen-green  many  of  the  military  had  also  fallen. 
An  attack  in  the  night  had  been  made  on  Carlo w, 
wliich  was  repulsed  with  slaughter,  amounting  almost 
to  massacre.  A  row  of  cabins  in  which  numbers  of  the 
defeated  insurgents  had  taken  shelter  were  set  on  fire, 
and  the  inmates  burned  to  death.  Xo  quarter  was 
given, — no  mercy  shown  ;  and  most  of  those  who  had 
escaped,  burning  with  disappointment,  rage,  and  re- 
venge, joined  the  Wexford  party.  John  Bewley,  a 
man  endued  with  wisdom,  courage,  and  benevolence, 
exerted  them  all  in  behalf  of  the  deluded  people,  along 
with  my  husband  and  brother ;  and  as  he  was  not 
exposed  to  the  suspicion  which  attached  to  an  inhabi- 
tant, he  treated  with  Colonel  Campbell  on  their  behalf 
The  Colonel  was  willing  to  make  favourable  terms  with 
the  insurgents,  most  of  whom  were  willing  to  come  in 


238  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^79^- 

to  him,  but  a  few  still  held  out,  and  amongst  these 
was  a  priest.  John  Bewley  proposed  to  take  another 
message  to  Colonel  Campbell ;  the  people  at  length 
consented ;  but  so  much  time  had  been  lost  meanwhile 
that  Colonel  Campbell's  terms  were  now  less  favour- 
able. Six  hostages  were  demanded  to  be  sent  before 
an  appointed  time,  to  guarantee  the  surrender  of  the 
arms  before  the  noon  of  the  next  day.  Th«y  could  not 
decide  upon  the  hostages,  the  hour  passed  by,  and  the 
fate  of  Ballitore  was  sealed  ! 

We  believed  the  hostages  had  been  sent,  for  we 
perceived  the  people  had  begun  to  weary  of  ill-doing  ; 
and  a  stranger,  who  begged  some  refreshment  wistfully, 
asked  me  when  there  would  be  peace.  We  got  our 
beds  replaced  upon  their  steads,  and  sank  into  that 
quiet  repose  which  for  some  nights  we  had  not  known, 
little  imagining  what  the  morrow  was  to  bring  forth. 
This  eventful  morrow  was  the  27th  of  Fifth-month 
(May).  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  army  was  near  roused  us  from  our  beds. 
We  saw  the  ghtter  of  arms  through  the  dust  which 
the  horses  of  the  9th  Dragoons  made,  galloping  along 
the  liigh  road  from  Carlow.  We  heard  the  shots 
repeatedly  fired.  We  saw  the  military  descend  the 
hill,  cross  the  bridge,  and  halt  before  our  house,  where 
some  dismounted  and  entered,  and  asked  for  milk  and 
water.  As  I  handed  it,  I  trembled ;  my  spirits,  which 
had  risen  superior  to  the  danger  till  now,  fell ;  the 
dragoon  perceived  my  emotion,  and  kindly  told  me  I 
need  not  fear,  that  they  came  to  protect  us,  adding, 


1 798-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  239 

"  It  is  well  you  were  not  all  murdered !"  Thus  assured, 
I  recovered  my  composure.  I  should  not  have  recov- 
ered it  so  easily  had  I  known  that  my  brother  and 
his  friends  had  walked  forth  to  meet  the  troops,  who 
were  commanded  by  Major  Dennis.  John  Bewley, 
holding  up  a  paper  from  Colonel  Campbell,  said,  "  We 
are  prisoners  !"  "  It  is  well  for  you,"  said  Ihe  Major, 
"  that  you  are  prisoners,  else  I  should  have  shot  you, 
every  man."  Then  raising  himself  in  his  stirrups,  he 
revoked  the  orders  given  to  his  men,  to  fire  upon  every 
man  in  coloured  clothes.  Oh,  rash  and  cruel  orders, 
which  exposed  to  such  danger  lives  of  such  value, 
which  if  thus  sacrificed  no  regrets  could  have  restored  ! 
jS'othing  can  justify  such  commands. 

I  thought  the  bitterness  of  death  was  passed,  but 
the  work  was  not  yet  begun.  Colonel  Campbell's 
men,  who  had  impatiently  rested  on  their  arms  several 
hours,  marched  out  of  Athy.  They  took  I^arraghmore 
in  their  way,  and  directed  their  mistaken  rage  against 
the  newly  erected  house  of  Colonel  Keatinge,  planting 
cannon  to  destroy  the  dwelling  which  so  much  worth 
had  inhabited.  They  mortally  wounded  John  Carroll, 
cousin  to  the  Colonel.  Tliis  party  of  soldiers  entered 
Ballitore  exhausted  by  rage  and  fatigue  ;  they  brought 
cannon.  Cannon  in  Ballitore  !  The  horse  and  foot  had 
now  met.  Colonel  Campbell  was  here  in  person  and 
many  other  officers.  Tlie  insurgents  had  fled  on  the 
first  alarm, — the  peaceable  inhabitants  remained.  The 
trumpet  was  sounded,  and  the  peaceable  inhabitants 
were   delivered   up   for   two   hours   to  the   unbridled 


240  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,        [^/P^- 

licence  of  a  furious  soldiery !  How  shall  I  continue 
the  fearful  narrative  1 

My  mind  never  could  arrange  the  transactions  which 
were  crowded  into  those  two  hours.  Every  house  in 
the  Burrow  was  in  flames;  a  row  of  houses  opposite 
to  the  School  was  also  set  on  fire  ;  none  others  were 
burnt  immediately  in  the  village,  but  a  great  many 
windows  were  broken,  and  when  I  heard  this  crash 
I  thought  it  was  cannon.  We  saw  soldiers  bending 
under  loads  of  plunder.  Captain  Palmer  came  in  to 
see  me,  and  was  truly  solicitous  about  us,  and  insisted 
on  giving  us  "  a  protection."  Soldiers  came  in  for 
milk ;  some  of  their  countenances  were  pale  with  an- 
ger, and  they  grinned  at  me,  calling  me  names  which 
I  had  never  heard  before.  They  said  I  had  poisoned 
the  milk  which  I  gave  them,  and  desired  me  to  drink 
some,  which  I  did  with  much  indignation.  Others 
were  civil,  and  one  enquired  if  we  had  had  any  United 
Irishmen  in  the  house.  I  told  them  we  had.  In  that 
fearful  time  the  least  equivocation,  the  least  deception 
appeared  to  me  to  be  fraught  with  danger.  The  soldier 
continued  his  enquiry — "Had  they  plundered  us?" 
"  No,  except  of  eating  and  drinking."  "  On  free  quar- 
ters," he  replied,  smiling,  and  went  away. 

A  fine-looking  man,  a  soldier,  came  in,  in  an  extrava- 
gant passion  ;  neither  his  rage  nor  my  terror  could  pre- 
vent me  from  observing  that  this  man  was  strikingly 
handsome;  he  asked  me  the  same  question  in  the 
same  terms — and  I  made  the  same  answer.  He  cursed 
me  with  great  bitterness,  and,  raising  his  musket,  pre- 


T798.]  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  24I 

sented  it  to  my  breast.  I  desired  him  not  to  sliootme. 
It  seemed  as  if  lie  had  the  will,  but  not  the  power  to 
do  so.  He  turned  from  me,  dashed  pans  and  jugs  ojff 
the  kitchen  table  with  his  musket,  and  shattered  the 
kitchen  window.  Terrified  almost  out  of  my  wits,  I 
ran  out  of  the  house,  followed  by  several  women 
almost  as  much  frightened  as  myself.  AVhen  I  lied, 
my  fears  gained  strength,  and  I  believed  my  enemy 
was  pursuing ;  I  thought  of  throwing  myself  into  the 
river  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  thinking  the  bullet 
could  not  hurt  me  in  the  water.  One  of  our  servants 
ran  into  the  street  to  call  for  help.  William  Eichard- 
son  and  Charles  Coote,  who  kindly  sat  on  their  horses 
outside  our  windows,  came  in  and  turned  the  ruffian 
out  of  the  house. 

That  danger  passed,  I  beheld  from  the  back  window 
of  our  parlour  the  dark  red  flames  of  Gavin's  house  and 
others  rising  above  the  green  of  the  trees.  At  the 
same  time  a  fat  tobacconist  from  Carlow  lolled  upon 
one  of  our  chairs,  and  talked  boastingly  of  the  exploits 
performed  by  the  military  whom  he  had  accompanied ; 
how  they  had  shot  several,  adding,  "  We  burned  one 
fellow  in  a  barrel."  I  never  in  my  life  felt  disgust  so 
strongly;  it  even  overpowered  the  horror  due  to  the 
deed,  which  had  been  actually  committed.  The  stupid 
cruelty  of  a  man  in  civil  life,  which  urged  him  volun- 
tarily and  mthout  necessity  to  leave  his  home  and 
bear  a  part  in  such  scenes,  was  far  more  revolting  than 
the  fiery  wrath  of  a  soldier. 

While  Captain  Palmer  was  with  me,  a  soldier  who 


242  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^79^- 

had  been  previously  quartered  at  my  mother's  came  to 
him,  to  beg  leave  to  go  see  "the  old  mistress."  My 
dear  mother,  who  was  now  in  the  stage  of  second  child- 
hood, in  her  unconsciousness  of  what  was  passing  had 
lost  the  timidity  of  her  nature,  mingled  and  conversed 
freely  in  her  simplicity  with  all  parties,  and  was  treated 
by  all  with  the  greatest  respect  and  tenderness ;  for, 
amid  the  darkness  of  the  tumult,  some  rays  of  light 
gleamed  forth,  some  countenances  expressed  humanity 
and  a  weariness  of  the  work  of  death. 

I  must  be  an  egotist  in  these  relations,  for  I  can 
scarcely  describe  anything  but  what  I  saw  and  heard. 
I  scarce  had  the  guidance  even  of  my  own  movements. 
Sometimes  I  found  myself  with  my  children,  whom  I 
had  shut  up  in  a  back  room ;  again  I  was  below,  en- 
quiring for  my  husband.  Our  old  gardener  was  disco- 
vered lying  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  instrument  of 
death  which  was  aimed  at  his  defenceless  breast  was 
arrested  by  his  daughter,  who,  rushing  forward,  begged 
that  her  life  might  be  taken  instead.  The  soldier 
spared  both,  but  poor  Polly  was  ever  after  subject  to 
fits,  which  reduced  her  to  a  deplorable  situation,  and 
by  which  she  eventually  lost  her  hfe,  being  seized  with 
one  as  she  crossed  a  stream.  A  carpenter  in  the  village 
took  his  goods  into  the  graveyard,  and  hid  himself  and 
his  family  there.  But  in  vain — tliis  solemn  retreat  was 
violated,  their  goods  were  plundered,  and  the  poor  old 
man  was  murdered  in  wanton  cruelty. 

Owen  Finn,  the  smith,  who  had  been  imprisoned  and 
liberated,  felt  liimself  secure  because  of  liis  late  acquit- 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  243 

tal,  and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  conceal  himself 
or  leave  his  house.  Alas  !  he  was  mistaken  in  expect- 
ing that  rage  reeking  with  blood  would  stop  to  discri- 
minate. Owen  was  dragged  out  of  his  cottage ;  his 
pleadings  were  not  listened  to  ;  his  cottage,  where 
industry  had  assembled  many  comforts,  was  pillaged 
and  then  set  on  fire.  His  wife  ran  through  the  crowd, 
to  assure  herself  of  her  husband's  safety.  She  beheld 
his  bleeding  and  dead  body :  she  threw  herself  with  her 
infant  upon  the  corpse,  while  those  who  had  wrought 
her  misery  assaulted  her  with  abusive  language,  and 
threatened  to  kill  her  also.  "  And  I  wished,"  said  she, 
"  that  they  would  kill  me  !" 

Tom  Duffy,  called  "  the  Fairy,"  had  come  from  Dub- 
lin that  morning  to  the  house  of  his  sister,  whose 
husband  was  a  yeoman,  and  had  fallen  in  the  battle 
of  Kilcullen.  The  mdow,  though  agonized  with  sor- 
row, found  some  little  comfort  in  assuring  herself  and 
her  children  of  protection  by  reason  of  her  husband 
having  suffered  on  the  side  of  government.  Her  grief 
was  mingled  with  astonishment  heightened  to  frenzy 
when  she  found  she  had  deceived  herself.  Her  brother, 
poor  Fairy  Tom,  was  murdered  ;  her  son  was  murdered  ; 
her  servant-boy  was  murdered ;  her  house  was  plunder- 
ed ;  her  little  daughter,  on  seeing  her  brother's  corpse, 
fell  into  fits  which  caused  her  death  ;  and  her  own 
reason  gave  way.    Such  are  the  horrors  of  civil  war. 

Our  poor  Doctor  Johnson  had  suffered  much  from 
fatigue  and  anxiety  during  those  days  of  terror ;  he 
ate  and  slept  but  little ;  and  on  the  26th,  coming  into 


244  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^79^- 

Mary  and  Anne  Doyle's,  he  declared  his  firm  belief 
that  he  should  fall  by  one  party  or  the  other,  add- 
ing he  did  not  care  how  soon.  They  wanted  him  to 
lie  down  and  get  a  little  rest,  but  his  agitated  mind 
would  not  permit  him  to  take  any.  Next  morning  he 
was  made  prisoner,  not  endeavouring  to  conceal  him- 
self I  saw  him  walking  in  his  yeomanry  dress  with  a 
crowd  of  soldiers,  and  thought  he  was  in  friendship 
with  them.  I  did  not  know  that  they  pressed  the  ends 
of  their  muskets  on  his  feet  as  he  walked,  and,  by  thus 
tormenting  him,  showed  how  little  mercy  he  had  to 
expect  from  them.  The  crowd  stopped  before  Mary 
and  Anne  Doyle's  shop ;  the  tumult  was  loud  ;  I  be- 
lieve they  called  it  a  court  martial.  An  officer  asked 
my  husband  had  the  doctor  been  at  the  battle  of  Nar- 
raghmore.  He  assured  him  he  had  not.  Charles 
Coote  stood  by  him,  and  begged  to  have  him  taken  to 
the  colonel.  What  his  friends  said  was  disregarded. 
Some  young  men,  prisoners,  passed  by ;  Doctor  John- 
son appealed  to  them,  but  they  passed  on  in  silence. 
He  was  alone  and  unarmed,  and  I  believe  had  never 
raised  his  hand  to  injure  any  one.  The  dragoons  hack- 
ed him  with  their  swords.  Captain  Sandys,  who  after- 
wards lost  his  life  at  Vinegar  Hill,  took  the  doctor's 
part  in  this  business.  So  many  swords  and  bayonets, 
and  at  length  a  musket,  could  not  be  long  in  taking  the 
life  of  an  unarmed  man. 

A  short  time  before  the  end,  a  soldier  came  into  our 
parlour,  and,  with  a  kind  of  bitter  smile,  told  me  they 
were  going  to  hang  the  doctor,     I  said  I  hoped  not. 


1798.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITOIIE.  245 

and  went  up  to  my  children,  trembling.  One  of  our 
servants  entered  the  room,  and  said  the  doctor  was  shot. 
I  started  up  and  contradicted  her;  just  then  the 
trumpet  sounded  a  retreat.  The  window  near  my  bed- 
side had  for  some  time  caused  me  a  dread  which  I 
could  not  account  for,  save  by  having  heard  of  persons 
being  shot  through  windows.  But  to  this  window  I 
now  went  mechanically,  and  saw  stretched  before  it, 
lying  on  his  back,  the  friend  I  had  known  from  child- 
hood— my  neighbour,  my  physician.  His  arms  were 
extended  ;  there  was  a  large  wound  in  the  lower  part  c>f 
his  face ;  and  his  once  graceful  form  and  intelhgent 
countenance  were  disfigured  with  more  than  the  horrors 
of  death.  I  took  but  one  look  ;  I  cried  aloud  ;  and 
Anne  Dojde  led  me  away.  We  went  to  the  back 
apartments  ;  the  glass  of  the  windows  was  hot  from  the 
reflection  of  the  burning  houses,  but  I  looked  on  them 
with  a  stupid  composure.  My  only  thought  was.  Is 
my  husband  safe  1  Had  not  our  dwelling  and  offices 
been  slated,  we  should  have  been  probably  houseless, 
for  the  unchecked  flames  rose  in  dreadful  spires,  and 
the  crash  of  falling  roofs  caused  a  terrific  sound.  The 
morning  was  balmy,  beautiful,  and  mild ;  bounteous 
iS^ature  smiled  sweetly  upon  us,  rich  with  the  treasures 
of  a  benign  Creator.  The  unbridled  passions  of  man 
alone  deformed  the  scene  ! 

Captain  Palmer,  naturally  good-natured,  was  pecu- 
liarly desirous  to  preserve  everybody  and  everything  in 
the  vale  he  loved  so  well.  He  learned  the  doctor's 
danger,  and  hastened  from  Athy  to  save  him  ;  but  he 


246         THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        1^79^- 

came,  alas  !  too  late — too  late  for  that  purpose,  but  in 
time  to  rescue  another  who  was  in  those  hands  reeking 
with  blood,  and  ready  to  take  his  life,  as,  speechless 
with  terror,  he  stood  beholding  the  sad  spectacle. 
Priest  Cullen,  justly  apprehensive  for  his  life,  had  ap- 
phed  to  my  brother  for  one  of  his  coats  wherewith  to 
disguise  himseif,  but  dared  not  wait  to  put  it  on.  He 
ran  to  Boakefield,  and  hid  in  one  of  the  clumps  of  trees 
in  the  lawn,  while  several  officers  were  refreshing  them- 
selves in  the  parlour,  and  soldiers  were  scattered  about 
the  house,  who  seemed  to  thirst  for  his  blood. 

After  the  trumpet  had  sounded  a  retreat,  a  soldier 
shot  one  of  our  pigs,  for  which  he  was  tied  to  a  car  and 
lashed.  Oh !  how  shocking  that  seemed  to  me  !  Com- 
manded to  take  the  precious  human  life — punished  for 
taking  that  of  a  brute  !  The  progress  of  the  army  on 
the  way  they  now  went  was  impeded  by  trees  purposely 
felled  by  the  insurgents  a  day  or  two  before.  Some  of 
the  soldiers  availed  themselves  of  this  delay  to  return 
to  Ballitore,  and  renew  the  work  of  plunder.  This 
alarmed  Charles  Coote  on  our  account,  as  he  justly 
feared  the  protections  previously  granted  would  not 
again  avail.  The  soldiers  were  overloaded  with  their 
spoils,  and  had  to  throw  some  away.  A  paper  was 
discovered  in  a  work-bag,  containing  a  list  of  names 
which  roused  suspicion.  Charles  Coote,  on  the  watch, 
claimed  to  look  at  the  paper,  and  quickly  convinced 
the  soldiers  that  their  suspicions  were  unfounded ; 
yet  his  heart  was  wrung  in  secret,  for  this  paper,  in 


1798.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  247 

my  handwriting,  contained  the  charades  and  rebuses 
with  which  we  had  amused  ourselves  on  one  of  our  past 
happy  evenings,  with  a  list  of  explanations.  He  feared 
lest  those  who  had  returned  might  plunder  and  murder 
us ;  and  the  anguish  of  such  an  apprehension  was 
quickened  by  the  contrast  with  the  convivial  hour. 
Thus  Homer  heightens  our  interest  in  the  fate  of 
Hector,  by  pointing  him  to  our  view  as  flying  from 
his  destroyer  by  those  fountains, 

Where  Trojan  dames,  ere  yet  alarmed  by  Greece, 
Washed  their  fair  garments  in  the  days  of  peace. 

Now  the  blast  was  over — all  was  silent  and  sad. 
Our  houseless  tenants  were  sheltered  under  our  roof ; 
we  sat  down  with  Mary  and  Anne, — the  closed  win- 
dows concealing  our  dead  friend  from  us.  Mary,  pale 
as  death,  shook  the  table  on  which  she  leaned  with  her 
excessive  trembhng ;  and  when  Anne  saw  the  body 
carried  along  and  thrown  over  the  little  wall  at  the 
corner  where  the  elm-tree  once  stood,  her  cry  of  grief 
was  heart-piercing ; — while  I  sate  like  a  stone.  The 
report  of  the  soldiers  intending  to  return  made  his 
neighbours  afraid  to  shelter  in  their  houses  those  dear 
remains.  Here  they  were  carefully  watched,  for  the 
swine  snufling  blood,  were  waiting  to  make  a  horrid 
repast.  For  several  months  there  was  no  sale  for  bacon 
cured  in  Ireland,  from  the  well-founded  dread  of  the 
hogs  having  fed  upon  the  flesh  of  men. 

The  first  use  we  made  of  our  minds'  returning 
strength  was  to  visit  Maria  Johnson.     She  knew  not 


248  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1798. 

that  her  husband  was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  nor 
that  they  were  his  enemies,  until  one  of  the  Tyrone 
militia  came  raging  into  the  house,  boasting  that  the 
doctor  was  shot,  and  calling  for  his  wife  that  he  might 
cut  her  head  off.  She  sank  down  upon  her  knees  in 
a  state  that  baffles  description  ;  her  sister  was  little 
better,  and  the  lamentations  of  the  children  touched 
even  the  hearts  of  the  soldiers — so  that  instead  of  doing 
farther  injury  they  endeavoured  to  soothe  their  distress. 
I  saw  those  mourners  looking  so  sweet,  so  innocent,  so 
sorrowful  that  I  could  not  bear  it,  but  hastened  into 
the  garden ;  thither  their  servant  followed  me  to  consult 
what  should  be  done  with  her  master's  body.  We  con- 
cluded on  having  him  buried  in  our  graveyard  without 
loss  of  time,  in  whatever  clothes  were  left  upon  him, 
for  alas  '  even  his  corpse  was  plundered.  This  needful 
conversation  calmed  my  feelings,  and  I  was  able  to 
return  and  sit  with  the  widow. 

There  was  no  motive  for  consolation  to  be  urged  in 
this  dreadful  calamity ;  we  could  only  weep  abundantly 
with  her.  It  was  a  comfort  to  us  that  she  could  weep. 
JN'o  harsher  expression  escaped  her  lips  than,  ''  Ah,  it 
was  a  cruel  enemy  !"  Her  little  Eliza  sprang  into  the 
room,  threw  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck,  and,  in 
a  tone  which  bespoke  the  anguish  of  her  young  heart, 
exclaimed,  "What  shall  we  do  for  my  poor  father!" 
He  was  one  of  the  tenclerest  of  fathers  as  well  as  of 
husbands ;  his  little  daughters  were  his  pride  and 
delight,  and  his  family,  including  his  sister-in-law, 
loved  him  with  reciprocal  affection.     I  caught  myself 


I79°-J  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLIT0RE3.  249 

saying,  "Why  are  these  things  permitted'?"  And  I 
thought  that  if  the  murderer  were  to  see  what  I  then 
saw,  his  conscience  would  compel  him  to  cry  out,  "  My 
punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear." 

On  the  29th,  people  ventured  to  seek  for  their 
friends,  and  to  bury  their  dead.  Whether  it  was  that 
having  so  many  companions  in  misfortune  lightened 
the  load,  whether  they  considered  those  that  had  fallen 
as  martyrs,  or  whether 

Vengeance,  deep  brooding  o'er  the  slain, 
Had  locked  the  source  of  softer  woe, 

there  did  not  appear  so  much  lamentation  as  one  might 
have  expected.  The  ruins  of  cars  lay  in  some  of  the 
ditches  at  the  entrance  into  Balhtore,  and  in  another 
ditch  lay  the  scull  of  the  poor  youth  who  had  been 
burnt  in  the  barrel  where  he  sought  refuge. 

I  saw  moving  along  under  the  arching  trees  a  few 
persons,  chiefly  women,  bearing  an  empty  coffin.  I 
joined  them  in  silence,  and  met  in  the  graveyard  my 
husband  and  two  or  three  more,  about  to  open  the 
grave  in  which  the  poor  doctor  was  laid,  and  at  his 
widow's  desire  to  re-inter  him  in  a  coffin.  I  saw  the 
earth  being  removed  ;  I  wished,  yet  dreaded,  to  see  the 
body.  A  shroud  was  wanted ;  I  hastened  back  to  Mary 
and  Anne's  for  it ;  we  hastily  made  it,  and  returning 
towards  the  graveyard,  a  boy  met  us  who  had  been  sent 
to  fetch  it ;  and  before  we  got  back  to  the  grave,  the 
body  had  been  washed,  ^vrapped  in  its  shroud,  and 
laid  in  the  coffin.  I  experienced  strange  and  contra- 
dictory feelings  while  I  stood  at  the  graveyard  gate, 


2 jo  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^798. 

wishing  and  yet  fearing  to  enter ;  Mary  and  Anne 
confessed  to  similar  sensations,  but  we  all  regretted  our 
irresolution  when  we  heard  the  coffin  lid  screwed  down. 
My  husband,  when  he  saw  how  it  disturbed  me,  regret- 
ted that  he  had  hastened  to  prevent  our  seeing  so  sad  a 
sight,  though  the  remains  were  little  altered  by  having 
lain  three  days  in  the  earth.  The  bloody  waistcoat 
lay  near,  and  the  sight  of  it  renewed  our  emotions  of 
horror. 

Timohn  was  attacked  after  Ballitore,  and  severa 
houses  in  its  suburbs  burnt.  Conway,  a  Protestant, 
was  protected,  or  rather  spared  by  one  party  of  soldiers, 
but  was  cut  down  by  another,  and  his  house  shared 
the  fate  of  the  other  dwellings.  The  Dublin  road  for 
nearly  four  miles  north  of  Ballitore  exhibited  a  scene 
of  desolation,  few  houses  having  escaped  there ;  and 
about  N'arraghmore  and  Crookstown  the  same  destruc- 
tion was  apparent.  The  street  of  Ballitore  was  strewed 
with  broken  glass  and  earthenware,  ground  by  the 
trampling  of  the  feet.  We  looked  around  at  our  altered 
village,  and  were  ready  to  wonder  that  we  yet  lived. 
"  Surely  the  wrath  of  man  shall  praise  Thee,  the 
remainder  of  wrath  wilt  Thou  restrain,"  We  were 
sensible  that  a  preserving  Providence  had  restrained 
that  wrath  which  threatened  general  destruction. 

Hostages  having  been  sent,  the  insurgents  prepared 
to  deliver  up  their  arms  on  the  30th.  A  little  boy 
was  the  herald,  who,  with  a  bit  of  white  paper  stuck 
in  his  hat  to  announce  his  office  and  secure  his  person, 
passed   safely  between  the   oj)posite  j^arties,   and  we 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  25 1 

respected  the  little  fellow  for  his  courage.  The  appoint- 
ed spot  for  meeting  was  about  half  way  between  Bal- 
litore  and  Athy,  and  there  the  insurgents  learned  that 
those  who  had  assembled  on  the  Curragh  for  a  similar 
purpose  had  been,  I  suppose  by  some  unfortunate 
mistake,  fallen  upon  by  a  party  commanded  by  Sir 
James  Duff,  and  put  to  the  sword.  Terrified  by  this 
intelligence,  many  returned  at  full  speed ;  but  by  my 
brother's  and  Ephraim  Boake's  exertions,  representa- 
tions, and  offers  to  accompany  them,  they  were  pre- 
vailed upon  to  go  back  and  conclude  this  disastrous 
business,  by  delivering  up  their  arms,  and  obtaining 
pardon  for  their  offences  against  government,  though 
not  for  those  committed  against  the  laws  of  their 
country.  Ephraim  Boake  was  a  wise  old  man ;  he  was 
truly  loyal  to  his  king,  but  he  did  not  think  loyalty 
incompatible  with  mercy.  "  Those  who  do  not  like 
"  this  government,"  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  let  them  go 
"  and  live  under  another  ;  but  while  they  are  protected 
"  by  this,  let  them  not  disturb  it." 

The  prisoners  had  gone  away  under  the  protection  of 
the  army — some  of  the  soldiers  leaving  money  to  reheve 
the  present  distresses  of  the  poor.  Indeed  many  cha- 
racters were  now  developed  ;  the  sordid,  the  carnal,  the 
selfish  had  gained  opportunity  of  gratification ;  while 
brighter  through  the  surrounding  gloom  beamed  the 
candid,  the  liberal,  the  benevolent  mind,  and  Captain 
Chenery  and  Captain  Palmer  will  be  long  remembered 
and  long  beloved  in  Ballitore. 


252 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1798. 

Eeminiscences  of  the  rebellion. — Murder  of  John  Jeffers  of  Nar- 
raghmore. — Hugh  Cullen  of  Prospect  saved  by  the  interference 
of  Ephraiin  Boake. — Evening  scene  on  Ballitore  bridge. — Land- 
ing of  the  French  at  Killala. — Anecdotes  of  Lord  Cornwallis. 
— Reformation  of  fairs  by  the  military. — Frequency  of  house- 
hold robbery  and  murder. — Robbery  of  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle 
— and  of  William  Leadbeater. — Tom  Eyre's  last  visit  to  Balli- 
tore.— Attack  on  Boakefield  by  the  rebel  Captain  Smith  and 
his  party. —  Visit  of  an  old  Ballitore  boy,  now  an  officer  in  the 
Cavan  militia. — Tragic  scene  in  Baltinglass. — Little  Jane  Lead- 
beater burned  to  death. — C»)ntin.ued  robbery  and  violence  of 
the  defeated  insurgents. — Hugh  Cullen  restored  to  liberty. — 
Death  of  the  Highland  centenarian,  Finlay  McClane — and 
of  Tom  Eyre  252  to  278 

T^HAT  pretty  cottage  built  by  poor  Dr.  Johnson,  to 
which  he  had  brought  his  bride,  was  now  a  black- 
ened ruin.  Many  families  sheltered  themselves  under 
hedges,  or  wherever  they  could  thrust  their  heads ; 
and  some  poor  women  brought  forth  their  babes  under 
these  sorrowful  circumstances.  Yet  the  houseless 
wretches  expressed  thankfulness  that  their  lives  were 
spared,  and  a  long  period  of  remarkably  fine  weather 
was  granted,  as  well  as  uncommon  health,  for  we  rarely 


1798-]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  253 

heard  of  any  sickness  except  that  caused  by  wounds, 
and  previously  Ballitore  had  seldom  passed  through  a 
summer  without  being  visited  by  fever  amongst  the 
poor.  Great  was  the  terror  in  which  the  army  were 
held.  A  soldier  was  an  unwelcome  sight,  unconscious 
that  the  time  was  not  far  distant  when  they  should  be 
most  welcome.  And  tliis  dread  was  not  without  cause ; 
we  frequently  saw  the  blaze  of  burning  houses  on  the 
surrounding  hills,  and  several  men  were  shot  by  the 
military  when  going  about  their  lawful  business,  so 
that  people  were  afraid  to  cut  their  turf,  save  their  hay 
and  corn,  or  even  to  sleep  in  their  own  abodes. 

When  the  corn  had  shot  into  ear,  three  months  after 
her  poor  husband's  death,  Dolly  Finn  went  to  her  little 
farm  to  look  at  her  crop.  She  was  alone  ;  she  entered 
among  the  black  walls  of  her  ruined  cottage ;  her  heart 
was  oppressed  with  horror  and  grief,  and  she  vented 
her  anguish  in  tears  and  groans  of  despair,  lamenting 
her  deplorable  condition.  A  soldier  was  passing  at  the 
time ;  he  heard  the  sound  of  sorrow,  and  through  the 
aperture  which  had  once  been  a  wmdow  he  saw  a 
lovely  woman,  whose  appearance  inspired  his  depraved 
heart  with  sentiments  very  different  from  compassion. 
He  alighted  from  his  horse,  and,  having  questioned  her 
closely,  he  showed  her  his  pistols,  and  then  attempted 
to  seize  her.  She  ran  out  of  the  walls,  shrieking,  believ- 
ing his  intent  was  to  render  her  still  more  wretched  ; 
he  followed,  and  compelled  her  to  walk  beside  him. 
The  trembling  widow  looked  around  and  cried  aloud  for 
succour,   in  vain  ;  the  highroad  was  now  solitary,  war 


254  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,       [^79^' 

and  terror  had  depopulated  it.  Some  persons  who  had 
taken  shelter  in  a  deserted  stable  at  length  came  out, 
when  her  enemy  immediately  assuming  the  character  of 
a  friend  advised  her  not  to  frequent  those  ruins  again, 
and  departed.  Her  alarm  was  such  that  for  a  long 
time  she  feared  to  walk  anywhere  alone,  and  her  fancy 
pictured  every  furzebush  to  be  a  soldier ! 

The  garrisoned  town  of  Athy  was  thronged  with 
those  who  were  afraid  to  remain  in  the  country, — yet 
where  was  safety  1  Even  in  this  garrison  a  man  from 
Narraghmore  was  shot  by  a  soldier — accidentally,  they 
said. 

When  we  went  to  the  monthly  meeting  of  Carlow 
we  saw  marks  of  dismay  on  all  sides,  especially  in  the 
pale  and  immoveable  countenances  of  two  women  sit- 
ting before  an  open  window.  An  attack  from  the  in- 
surgents was  said  to  be  expected  that  night,  and  yeo- 
men hurried  to  and  fro  with  weaj^ons  in  their  hands. 
The  state  of  the  times  engrossed  all  conversation,  till 
we  longed  to  shut  our  ears  from  hearing  of  blood ;  and 
we  scarcely  dared  to  utter  humane  sentiments,  the  tide 
ran  so  strongly  against  those  who  had  put  the  inhabitants 
in  such  jeopardy.  All  our  friends  rejoiced  over  us,  as 
beings  delivered  from  the  jaws  of  danger  and  of  death. 

We  hastened  back  to  Ballitore,  whore,  once  more,  all 
wore  the  appearance  of  peace  and  security ;  where  we 
walked  out  in  the  delightful  evenings,  unmolested  by 
those  countersigns  which  had  been  so  constantly  called 
for  during  the  last  three  months, — undisturbed  by  the 
sight  of  licensed  or  unlicensed  instruments  of  destruc- 


1798-]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  255 

tion, — feeling  for  one  another  with  that  tender  melan- 
choly affection  pecuKar  to  fellow- sufferers.  But  all 
sensations  of  cheerfulness  had  fled,  and  our  spirits  wore 
a  covering  of  sadness  which  forbade  our  enjoyment  of 
the  beauties  of  Nature.  A  retrospect  of  past  events 
presented  itself  almost  continually  to  the  mind ;  and 
surely  this  state  of  humiliation  was  intended  for  our 
refinement  by  Him  who  afflicts  not  willingly. 

Though  the  storm  had  spent  its  fury  here,  it  raged 
elsewhere  with  redoubled  violence.  The  reports  from 
the  county  of  Wexford  were  terrible — the  hard-fought 
battle  of  Eoss,  the  camp  on  Vinegar-hill,  the  horrible 
burning  of  the  barn  at  Scullabogue,  the  slaughter  on 
Wexford-bridge,  and  the  dreadful  retaliations.  0  how 
does  the  flame  of  party  burn  up  all  on  whom  it  seizes  ! 
Do  men  forget  that  their  common  Father  is  a  God  of 
love,  a  God  of  mercy  1     Or  must  we  say, 

There  is  no  flesh  in  man's  obdurate  heart ; 
It  does  not  feel  for  man  ! 

Some  who  had  been  witnesses  to  those  shocks  could 
palliate  a  little  the  excesses  of  the  misguided  multitude. 
They  said  the  burning  of  the  barn  of  Scullabogue  was 
not  the  work  of  the  whole  body,  but  abhorred  by  them, 
and  was  done  by  a  party  maddened  after  the  defeat  of 
Eoss.  Women  and  children  were  spared,  and  Quakers 
in  general  escaped  ;  but  woe  to  the  oppressor  of  the 
poor,  the  hard  landlord,  the  severe  master,  or  him  who 
was  looked  upon  as  an  enemy  ! 
Jolin  Jeffers  of  Narraglimore,  returning  from  Kilcullen 


256  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [^TP^- 

to  Athy,  was  waylaid  near  the  ruins  of  his  own  house, 
which  had  been  burned  by  the  insurgents,  and  shot 
dead.  His  mother-in-law  was  within  hearing  of  the 
shot ;  she  got  assistance  to  take  away  the  body,  and 
although  most  probably  in  the  midst  of  enemies,  was 
treated  with  kindness  and  compassion.  Soon  after  this 
event  three  or  four  of  our  neighbours,  young  men, 
were  made  prisoners  and  suffered  death  in  Athy.  One 
young  officer  of  dragoons,  on  his  return  to  Dublin  from 
Vinegar-hill,  was  heard  to  boast  that  he  had  cut  off 
several  croppies'  heads  ;  perhaps  he  might  not  be  quite 
so  brave  in  the  day  of  battle.  Most  of  our  neighbours 
who  had  been  prisoners  at  Naas,  now  returned  and 
came  joyfully  to  see  us.  They  had  been  acquitted  after 
a  confinement  of  nine  weeks.  One,  however,  still  re- 
mained behind.  I  was  requested  to  write  to  Captain 
Chenery  on  his  behalf ;  I  did  so,  and  the  captain  sent 
my  note  into  the  court,  where  it  was  to  be  decided 
whether  Pat  Lyons  should  remain  a  prisoner  or  return 
home  a  free  man.  When  it  was  perceived  that  the 
note  came  from  a  female,  it  was  treated  with  contempt ; 
"  Women  did  not  care  what  they  said,  and  it  was  from 
a  woman."  On  further  inspection  they  observed  the 
date  ;  "  Quakers  tell  truth,  and  it  was  from  a  Quaker" 
— and  accordingly  Pat  was  liberated. 

Martial  law  continued  to  be  observed  in  Athy ;  Hugh 
Cullen,  of  Prospect,  was  made  a  prisoner,  and  carried 
from  his  fields  to  encounter  this  formidable  power. 
Ephraim  Boake  saw  the  threatened  destruction  of  his 
neighbour,    the   industrious  father  of  a  large  family. 


1798.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  257 

whom  he  did  not  beheve  to  have  been  guilty  of  any 
violence.  Ephraim's  body  and  mind  were  not  rendered 
inactive  by  age ;  for,  seconded  by  the  representations  of 
the  kind-hearted  Captain  Palmer,  he  went  to  Dublin 
and  exerted  his  influence  with  his  friend  Agar,  Arch- 
bishop of  Cashel,  by  whose  means  he  obtained  from  Lord 
Castlereagh,  whose  brother,  Colonel  Stewart,  command- 
ed in  Athy  and  that  district,  an  order  to  stop  proceed- 
ings by  court  martial.  His  messenger  hastened  from 
Dublin  on  his  errand  of  mercy ;  the  uplifted  sword  was 
stayed,  and,  though  long  detained  a  prisoner,  Hugh 
Cullen  was  not  irrevocably  torn  from  his  family.  His 
brother  Paul,  a  fine  young  man,  had  been  condemned 
by  a  court  martial  a  little  while  before.  His  poor 
father  attended  the  trial ;  when  he  returned,  the  family 
anxiously  enquired,  "  What  news  V  "  Good  news," 
replied  the  parent,  sadly.  "  My  child  is  to  die,  and  he 
is  willing  to  die  !" 

Late  one  evening,  as  we  leaned  over  the  bridge,  we 
saw  a  gentleman  and  lady  watering  their  horses  at  the 
river,  attended  by  servants  fully  armed.  They  wore 
mourning  habits,  and  though  young  and  newly  married, 
looked  very  serious  and  sorrowful.  Their  chastened 
appearance,  their  armed  servants,  the  stillness  of  the 
air  scarcely  broken  by  a  sound,  rendered  the  scene  very 
impressive.  We  very  rarely  saw  any  of  the  gentry; 
when  we  did,  they  were  generallj^  dressed  in  deep  black ; 
for  what  family  had  not  lost  a  member  ?  Moimiing 
was  the  language — mourning  was  the  dress  of  the 
country. 

Some  of  Ephraim  Boake's  relatives  who  resided  at 


258  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.       [^798. 

Baltinglass,  fearing  an  attack  upon  that  town,  sought 
safety  under  his  roof.  But  that  night  a  party  came  to 
Boakelield,  demanding  arms.  They  were  told  there 
were  none ;  they  wanted  the  family  to  swear  to  this, 
but  did  not  insist  on  it ;  and,  on  being  refused  admit- 
tance, said  they  would  not  break  the  door.  They  asked 
for  whiskey  and  a  newspaper.  This  was  in  Sixth- 
month  (June),  and  was  the  beginning  of  our  troubles 
in  this  way.  It  did  not  make  much  impression  on  our 
minds,  but  our  pensive  tranquillity  was  not  long  to  last. 
About  two  months  after  this,  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
a  demand  for  wine  was  made  at  my  mother's  door,  by 
persons  who  represented  themselves  as  travellers,  and 
excused  themselves  by  reason  of  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather.  They  asked  for  two  bottles,  which  were  hand- 
ed to  them  from  a  window,  and  on  going  away  they 
said,  "  Not  one  word  of  this  in  the  morning." 

In. the  Eighth-month  (August)  we  heard  of  the  French 
having  landed  at  Killala,  but  in  so  small  a  force  as 
not  to  cause  auy  great  alarm.  It  proved,  however,  that 
an  able  general  was  necessary  to  stop  their  progress, 
joined  as  they  were  by  many  of  the  country  people. 
This  able  general  was  found  in  the  good  Cornwallis, 
who  succeeded  Lord  Camden  in  the  government  of 
Ireland,  and  who  held  out  the  olive-branch,  and  sheath- 
ed the  avenging  sword  whenever  it  was  possible.  He 
discouraged  the  distinctions  of  party,  and  when  the 
Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin  appeared  before  him,  wearing 
an  orange  cockade,  he  enquired  the  meaning  of  it,  and 
on  being  told  it  was  a  badge  of  loyalty,  said,  "  I  did 


179S.]  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  259 

"  not  know  till  now  that  the  first  magistrate  was  sus- 
"  pected/'  When  he  overheard  some  of  his  officers 
disputing  about  a  bed,  on  their  march  to  meet  the 
French,  it  is  reported  of  this  gallant  veteran  that  he 
said,  "  Gentlemen,  any  of  you  are  welcome  to  my  bed  ; 
a  little  clean  straw  behind  the  door  will  satisfy  me." 

At  our  fair  it  was  pleasant  to  see  so  many  people 
alive,  and  to  behold  the  joy  with  which  they  greeted 
one  another.  Soldiers  moved  amongst  them  to  prevent 
unlawful  confabulations,  and  a  reformation  soon  ensued 
at  those  places,  by  the  people  being  dispersed  early, 
and  not  permitted  to  assemble  in  drinking,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  in  fighting  parties. 

The  days  were  now  shortening.  Another  demand 
for  wine. in  a  larger  qoiantity,  and  enforced  in  a  more 
peremptory  manner  than  before,  was  made  at  my 
mother's;  and  on  the  same  night  a  person  climbed 
over  the  rails  of  my  brother's  yard,  and  unbolted  the 
gate  for  others,  seeking  more  wine.  This  was  the  only 
attack  made  on  my  brother,  and  his  subsequent  escapes 
were  surprising  and  unexpected  to  the  family.  The 
mail-coach  was  burnt ;  horses  were  taken  out  of  the 
fields ;  and  one  beautiful  moonlight  night  a  desperate 
band  plundered  several  houses  about  Narraghmore. 
Glassealy  House  was  burned  to  the  ground.  The  mas- 
ter of  this  mansion,  T.  J.  Rawson,  and  his  family  were 
fortunately  in  Athy.  He  had  been  very  active  in 
bringing  the  disaff"ected  to  punishment,  and  was  conse- 
quently obnoxious  to  them,  and  exposed  to  their 
resentment. 

17* 


ito  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.        [lyp^* 

Alas  !  these  banditti  did  not  stop  at  plundering  and 
destroying  property.  That  fine  night  was  obscured  by 
murder — a  murder  which  brought  upon  the  country  a 
greater  stain  than  any  other  act  had  done.  Hannah 
Manders,  a  protestant,  who  held  a  farm  and  was  well 
liked  by  her  neighbours,  with  her  sister,  her  nephew, 
and  a  maid-servant,  were  all  murdered.  Another  ser- 
vant snatched  up  a  little  child,  whose  father  had  fallen 
at  the  time  of  the  rising,  and  who  was  sheltered  and 
protected  there  by  the  kind-hearted  mistress,  and  ran 
away  to  conceal  herself  and  it.  They  lay  hidden  in  a 
lime-kiln,  and  the  httle  creature,  though  quite  awake, 
kept  a  profound  silence,  while  the  poor  servant  trem- 
bled lest  it  should  cry  out.  The  farm-house,  late  the 
seat  of  peace  and  plenty  and  benevolence,  was  burned 
to  the  ground.  This  savage  deed  caused  general  horror 
and  detestation.  It  was  thought  that  some  incautious 
words  which  the  servant  had  uttered  after  a  visit  from 
marauders  might  have  been  the  cause  of  this  cruel  act ; 
but  notliing  could  extenuate  the  crime. 

Not  long  after  this  the  depredations  seriously  began 
at  Balhtore.  Those  whose  offences  had  debarred  them 
from  the  privilege  of  protections  were  outcasts  from 
society,  and  had  no  apparent  means  of  subsistence  save 
by  rapine.  They  sheltered  themselves  in  the  County 
of  Wicklow  mountains,  and  from  thence  made  nightly 
excursions  for  food,  money  and  clothes,  levying  their 
black  mail  on  the  timid  and  the  peaceful,  while  the 
lengthening  nights  favoui-ed  their  designs.  Holt,  who 
was  their  general,  was  said  to  be  a  brave  and  merciful 


1798]  THE   ANNALS    OF    EALLITORE.  261 

man.  Their  first  visit  to  Ballitore  as  avowed  robbers 
was  to  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle.  My  husband  and  I 
had  spent  the  evening  with  Maria  Johnson.  We 
returned  impressed  with  that  tender  feeling  of  compas- 
sion and  sympathy  which  the  sense  of  her  injuries  cre- 
ated, while  the  silence  of  the  night  and  the  gloom  of 
the  trees  mingled  awe  with  our  regret.  It  was  early 
in  the  Tenth-month  (October).  The  clock  was  about 
striking  ten  when  we  called  at  Mary  and  Anne's  door, 
being  accustomed  never  to  pass  without  calling  on  these 
dear  friends,  particularly  now  that  for  the  protection 
of  my  mother  we  lived  at  the  Eetreat.  Four  men 
were  lurking  near  the  door,  and  entered  when  it  was 
opened  for  us.  We  saw  that  they  were  armed.  My 
husband  went  to  alarm  the  neighbours,  and  get  assist- 
ance ;  for  one  unarmed  man  could  do  nothing.  They 
would  not  let  him  return,  for  which  I  felt  thankful,  as 
single-handed  he  could  only  expect  to  be  sacrificed, 
and  he  could  get  no  assistance. 

I  remained  with  my  friends,  saw  them  robbed  of 
their  money  and  goods,  and  a  pistol  presented  to  Mary 
Doyle's  breast,  though  I  thought  I  saw  the  man  uncock 
it  first.  He  was  of  her  own  name,  Doyle,  a  very  hand- 
some man,  and  aff'ected  to  speak  broken  English.  One 
fellow  stood  at  the  shop-door,  repeatedly  calling,  as  to 
some  one  without,  "  All's  well ;"  sometimes  adding, 
"  All's  devilish  well." 

When  their  work  was  done  they  liberated  my  hus- 
band, and  we  remained  mth  our  poor  friends  most  of 
the  night,  although  I  often  looked  towards  the  Eetreat, 


262  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.       [^79^- 

and  thouglit  of  my  poor  helpless  mother  and  our  tender 
little  children.  When  we  went  thither  we  found  the 
house  in  confusion ;  the  robbers  had  not  long  left  it. 
They  took  several  articles  of  value  of  my  mother's,  my 
sister's,  and  ours  ;  and  made  my  mother's  man-servant 
accompany  them  to  the  apartment  where  our  children 
lay  in  their  beds.  They  asked  our  little  Elizabeth 
where  her  father  kept  his  money.  She  cried,  and  said 
she  did  not  know.  "  I  know,"  called  out  little  Jane, 
"  where  my  father  keeps  his  money."  "Where,  honey  V 
"  In  his  breeches  pocket." 

They  broke  open  my  husband's  desk,  and  scattered 
his  papers  about  the  room ;  we  missed  none  of  them 
save  three  letters  to  me  from  Edmund  Burke.  The 
beauty  of  the  pocket-book  in  which  they  were — a  gift 
to  me  from  his  wife — no  doubt  caused  it  and  them  to 
be  taken.  I  regretted  my  loss  so  much  that  I  made  a 
fruitless  enquiry  for  them  of  the  robbers  on  their  next 
visit.  It  is  probable  these  precious  relics  shared  the 
fate  of  the  guinea  notes  at  Vinegar  Hill,  being  used  to 
light  the  pipes  of  the  robbers. 

They  took  a  great  deal  of  clothes,  and  broke  the  fur- 
niture, apparently  to  get  at  the  contents,  for  they  took 
a  looking-glass  off  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  laid  it  care- 
fully aside.  Perhaps,  also,  they  recollected  the  super- 
stitious notion  that  breaking  a  mirror  brings  bad  luck 
to  the  breaker.  In  bursting  open  a  wardrobe  w^ith  the 
handle  of  a  pistol,  the  charge  exploded,  and  the  ball 
passed  through  the  bedstead  in  which  lay  little  Jane. 
The  room  filled  with  smoke ;  the  children  screamed ; 


1798.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  263 

the  frightened  servants  ran  in ;  and  the  robbers,  also 
alarmed,  hastened  to  see  if  the  child  was  killed.  She 
smiled  in  their  faces,  and  told  them  not  to  be  so  fright- 
ened, for  she  was  not  hurt. 

My  dear  mother  appeared  to  be  but  little  disturbed 
by  this  or  the  other  scenes  she  had  passed  through ;  yet 
it  is  probable  they  accelerated  her  mental  decay.  We 
took  the  precaution  of  removing  the  whole  family  to 
sleep  the  following  night  at  my  brother's  ;  but,  though 
most  welcome  to  continue  there,  we  preferred  returning 
to  our  own  home  as  soon  as  we  had  it  arranged  after 
the  attack,  not  beheving  a  message  from  the  audacious 
visitors  that  they  would  be  with  us  again  before  next 
morning. 

We  richly  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  that  morning 
brought  us  of  a  passing  look  at  our  dear  Tom  Eyre,  of 
whom  we  had  lost  sight  for  some  years.  He  was  tra- 
velling post,  disguised  in  a  round  hat  and  great-coat 
over  his  regimentals.  Afraid  of  endangering  our  safety 
by  openly  calling  upon  us,  he  had  looked  anxiously 
aroimd  as  the  carriage  passed  along  the  high  road.  At 
length  he  saw  my  husband  and  my  brother  in  a  field 
conversing  together.  He  sent  his  servant  for  them, 
and  my  husband  sent  directly  for  me.  I  found  him 
leaning  on  each  of  them,  and  was  struck  with  the  great 
alteration  in  his  dear  countenance.  He  looked  ex- 
tremely ill,  and  was  then  labouring  under  an  attack  of 
gout. 

He  said  he  had  been  twice  in  the  West  Indies  since 
he  had  seen  us.     His  health  had  suffered  from  fatigue. 


264  THE  ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^/P^- 

and  the  hardships  he  had  undergoDe  when  encounter- 
ing the  French  in  Connanght  had  given  it  the  finishing 
blow.  He  said  that  in  this  last  expedition  it  was  evi- 
dent that  they  passed  through  an  enemy's  country, 
though  their  brave  commander,  CornwaUis,  would  not 
seem  to  observe  it,  and,  where  paper  money  was  re- 
fused, paid  down  gold.  Tom,  now  Lieutenant-colonel 
Eyre,  had  the  command  of  the  French  prisoners  to 
Dublin.  His  wife  was  in  England,  for  he  said  Ire-, 
land  was  no  place  for  a  woman  now.  He  looked  with 
longing  eyes,  filled  with  tears,  u]3on  the  valley  where 
he  had  sported  in  his  childhood,  lamenting  that  he 
could  not  see  my  dear  mother,  who  had  been  one  of 
his  faithful  guardians.  *  He  remounted  his  chaise,  was 
soon  out  of  sight,  and  we  never  saw  him  more. 

As  I  sat  at  my  work  about  eight  o'clock  that  evening, 
my  mind  reverting  mournfully  yet  sweetly  to  the  past, 
the  robbers  knocked  at  the  door.  To  the  enquiry, 
"  Who  is  there]"  the  answer  was  returned,  "A  friend ;" 
and  two  enemies  entered,  who  demanded  our  watches, 
and  then  asked  for  money.  One  of  them  sat  down, 
the  muzzle  of  his  blunderbuss  turned  towards  me.  I 
desired  him  to  turn  it  away,  and  he  did  so.  Doyle  was 
one  of  them; — his  countenance  was  changing, — becom- 
ing darkened  by  guilt.  They  asked  me  to  go  with 
them  to  our  desk  for  money.  I  requested  they  would 
not  awake  the  children,  and  they  immediately  spoke 
low.  Finding  I  had  very  httle  money,  one  pretended 
to  struggle  with  the  other  for  the  blunderbuss  to  shoot 
me ;  I  was  not  afraid,  except  that  by  their  awkward 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  26^ 

handling  the  piece  might  accidentally  go  off.  I  had  on 
these  occasions  very  little  fear,  but  I  had  also  very  httle 
presence  of  mind.  I  was  willing  to  give  the  robbers 
anything  they  demanded  to  get  them  away,  and  had  no 
dexterity  in  preserving  property.  After  ineffectual 
threats  to  procure  more  money,  they  wished  me  good 
night,  and  went  again  to  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle's ; 
breaking  their  windows,  robbing  them,  and  striking 
dear  Mary. 

An  impulse  of  general  alarm  caused  many  of  the  in- 
habitants to  leave  the  village ;  some  went  to  Dublin, 
and  some  to  Athy.  My  husband  took  my  mother, 
myself,  and  our  two  children  to  Carlow.  Our  poor 
neighbours  looked  sad,  and  wept  at  seeing  "the  old 
mistress^'  leave  Ballitore  under  such  circumstances.  My 
husband  returned  next  day,  and  very  reluctantly  I  con- 
sented that  we  should  stay  at  Carlow  for  a  while,  for  fear 
is  strengthened  by  flight  from  danger,  and  I  w^as  much 
less  at  ease  at  Carlow  than  at  home,  which  I  felt  to  be 
my  right  place.  My  thoughts  dwelt  also  with  poor 
Mary  and  Anne,  but  to  them  my  husband  was  a  protec- 
tor. I  became  dreadfully  terrified  with  the  idea  that 
Carlow  would  be  attacked,  especially  one  night  when  I 
was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  horn,  not  recollecting 
that  it  only  announced  a  mail-coach.  Oh !  the  terror 
that  blast  on  the  horn  gave  me  ! 

We  now  heard  of  the  murder  of  William  Hume  of 
Humewood.  Mary  Lecky  of  Kilnock  and  her  family 
were  at  Carlow,  being  expelled  from  her  home  by  rob- 
bery and  rough  treatment.     Elizabeth  Lecky  of  Bally- 


266  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [l798. 

kealy  was  also  there,  although  a  message  had  been  sent 
to  her  that  she  should  not  be  molested.  Still  the 
treatment  inflicted  on  the  equally  beloved  inhabitants 
of  Kilnock  made  her  tremble  for  her  own  large  family. 

On  our  return  to  Ballitore,  where  "the  old  mistress" 
was  received  with  heartfelt  gladness,  we  bade  adieu  to 
the  sweet  Eetreat  and  settled  in  our  own  habitation, 
which  though  a  smaller  and  much  less  commodious 
house,  had  the  advantage  of  the  close  vicinity  of  our 
dear  Mary  and  Anne  Doyle,  from  whom  we  wished  no 
more  to  separate,  and  to  whom  every  fresh  trouble 
more  strongly  united  us.  We  felt  ourselves  like  weak 
trees  supporting  one  another  against  the  storm.  My 
mother  lived  with  us.  It  was  now  the  fall  of  the  year, 
but  we  could  no  longer  look  forward  with  comfort  to 
the  warm  firesides  and  social  evenings  which  we  had 
often  thought,  whilst  enjoying  them,  made  winter  the 
pleasantest  season  of  the  year.  We  anticipated  with  too 
much  certainty  the  dread  and  the  dangers  of  that  which 
now  approached,  and  scarcely  dared  to  look  beyond  it. 
In  fact,  all  about  us  was  gloom. 

I  went  one  afternoon  to  the  Eetreat ;  the  house  was 
locked,  and  the  family  who  took  care  of  it  had  gone 
out.  I  entered  at  a  window  ;  the  withered  leaves 
entered  with  me,  and  the  winds  whistled  through  the 
empty  rooms,  once  the  warm  nests  of  domestic  delights. 
I  went  into  the  garden ;  the  autumnal  blasts  had  strewn 
it  with  leaves,  which  mournfully  rustled  under  my  feet, 
for  no  hand,  as  formerly,  had  swept  them  away.  In 
the  gardener's  house  lay  poor  John  Fleming  in  malig- 


1798.]  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITOKE.  267 

nant  fever  ;  as  I  approached  it,  I  heard  his  father  ad- 
dressing him  in  an  anguished  tone  of  voice.  When  I 
reached  the  door  and  enquired  for  him,  the  poor  man 
answered,  "  He  died  two  hours  before  day  !  I  had  no 
"  one  with  me  to  send  for  the  priest,  so  I  prayed  that 
"  God  w^ould  do  His  will  with  him."  I  thought  that 
this  might  have  been  an  acceptable  prayer,  poured  forth 
in  the  bitterness  of  an  afflicted  heart  which  had  no 
human  aid  to  look  to.  For  him,  poor  youth,  there  was 
much  to  hope  ;  he  was  a  young  man  of  uncommon 
mind,  and  of  a  very  serious  turn.  He  was  much 
attached  to  the  cause  of  the  insurgents  ;  but  he  said 
during  his  illness  that  he  hoped  he  had  not  much  to 
answer  for,  as  he  had  never  wronged  anyone  of  a  shil- 
ling, and  had  never  been  present  at  the  killing  of  a 
human  being. 

Shortly  after  our  return  from  Carlow  an  attack  on 
Boakefield  terrified  us  more  than  one  on  ourselves  could 
have  done.  We  heard  for  nearly  two  hours  repeated 
discharges  of  shot, — then  saw  flames  ascending.  A 
dreary  silence  followed,  broken  at  length  by  the  noise 
of  the  robbers,  and  by  a  shot  which  they  fired  as  they 
entered  the  village.  We  sat  in  fearful  expectation  of 
an  attack  upon  ourselves,  and  could  scarcely  believe  it 
when  they  passed  us  by ;  yet  our  anxiety  for  our  neigh- 
bours' fate  prevented  our  enjoying  our  own  escape, 
and  we  longed  for  morning.  When  it  came,  our  worst 
fears  were  put  to  flight.  No  one  at  Boakefield  had 
been  injured,  though  on  each  refusal  to  admit  them 
the  banditti  fired  a  volley  with  the  regularity  of  dis- 


268  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.        [^Ty^- 

ciplined  men.  Those  within  endeavoured  to  keep  in 
positions  where  they  could  not  be  reached  by  the 
bullets,  twelve  of  which  penetrated  the  hall-door ;  the 
windows  were  shattered,  and  several  pieces  of  furniture 
damaged.  A  servant  escaped  out  of  the  back  of  the 
house  and  ran  off  to  Timolin,  where  a  party  of  the  army 
was  stationed,  to  request  their  aid  ;  they  had  been, 
however,  advised  "  to  leave  the  devoted  hole  to  itself," 
and  they  took  the  advice.  Soon  afterwards  this  ser- 
vant's life  was  attempted.  The  robbers  at  length  got 
in  at  the  back  window  ;  one  of  them,  who  appeared  to 
be  the  commander,  cried  out,  "  I  know  my  doom,  but 
we  are  starving.  I  am  Captain  Smith,  and  I  scarce 
care  what  I  do.  Why  would  you  not  let  us  in  ]  Are 
any  of  you  hurt  f  He  was  answered  that  they  had 
taken  his  band  for  the  gang  of  robbers  wliich  were 
infesting  the  neighbourhood.  "  We  are  no  robbers," 
said  he,  "  and  yet  what  else  can  you  call  us  V  They 
did  not  take  much  out  of  the  house,  or  offer  any 
violence  to  the  family,  but  made  strict  search  for  men 
who  had  been  there,  one  of  whom  was  actually  hidden 
in  the  garret  at  the  time.  They  desired  the  men  to 
go  out  and  save  the  stable,  which  they  had  set  on  fire  ; 
and  then  retired.  Captain  Smith  and  his  band  were 
soon  after  taken  up  and  lodged  in  Baltinglass  goal. 

A  cheering  circumstance  diversified  these  gloomy 
scenes.  Robert  Baxter,  our  early  and  beloved  friend, 
who  we  believed  had  been  for  some  years  numbered 
with  the  dead,  again  appeared  in  Ballitore.  He  was 
now  an  officer  in  the  Cavan  militia,  and  called  to  see 


1798.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  269 

US  on  his  route.  His  countenance  was  glowing  with 
rapturous  joy  at  the  sight  of  liis  old  friends  and  the 
well- remembered  vale,  and  then  shaded  with  regret  at 
the  havoc  which  time  and  war  had  made  amongst  the 
friends  and  the  shades  which  he  loved.  His  stay  was 
very  short ;  he  introduced  me  to  his  wife  as  "  Molly 
Shackleton,"  and  made  us  kiss  in  the  street  ;  then  he 
rushed  off  without  his  hat  to  see  our  childi-en,  and  was 
particularly  struck  with  the  beauty  of  our  little  Jane. 
That  dear  child  had  a  great  dread  of  military  men  ever 
since  the  fearful  day  which  the  children  called  "Bloody 
First-day  ;"  and  she  used  to  say  to  me,  "  I  love  every 
"  body  in  the  world,  but  I  don't  love  the  soldiers, 
"  because  they  killed  the  doctor,  and  he  was  a  pleasant 
"  man !"  I  was  therefore  astonished  to  see  her  clasp 
Eobert  Baxter  fondly  round  the  neck  and  cling  to  him, 
though  he  was  dressed  in  full  regimentals,  as  if  by 
sympathy  she  acknowledged  and  loved  her  mother's 
friend. 

A  general  rebuilding  of  the  ruined  houses  now  took 
place,  but  even  this  work  was  in  a  gTeat  measure  carried 
on  by  plunder.  The  stately  trees  of  Ballitore  were 
often  missed  in  the  morning,  and  we  could  hear  at 
night  the  sound  of  their  being  felled  and  the  creaking 
of  the  cars  wliich  took  them  away.  Desolation  threat- 
ened in  various  shapes — the  darkness  of  the  winter 
nights  was  illumined  by  the  fires  of  the  houses  burnt 
by  the  insurgents,  and  fatal  was  their  vengeance.  One 
man  whom  they  thought  they  had  killed  and  had 
thrown  into  a  ditch,  pulling  down  part  of  the  bank 


270  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.         [^79^. 

upon  him,  was  not  fatally  injured,  struggled  out  of 
his  grave,  ran  naked  to  Baltiuglass,  and  convicted 
his  intended  murderers.  A  large  burial  moved  through 
Ballitore  with  a  kind  of  indignant  solemnity.  It  was 
that  of  a  young  man  who  had  been  hanged,  and  whose 
father,  on  his  son's  being  apprehended,  put  an  end  to 
his  own  life.  Such  were  the  tragedies  with  which  we 
were  surrounded,  and  with  which  we  had  grown  shock- 
ingly familiar. 

Thus  were  we  circumstanced  when  a  sore  domestic 
calamity  seemed  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  our  sufferings. 
We  thought  we  had  a  little  respite  from  our  foes,  and 
we  were  once  more  assembled  in  peace  around  Mary  and 
Anne's  iireside,  when  our  dear  little  Jane  was  trusted 
by  me  with  a  wax  taper  to  go  up  stairs  alone.  The 
staircase  was  short,  and  her  grandmother  was  in  her 
own  room  with  her  attendant.  I  was  not  used  to  be 
so  incautious,  and  the  thought  crossed  my  mind,  "Is  it 
safe  ]"  A  distinct  voice  seemed  to  reply,  "  The  child 
is  so  steady ;"  and  all  recollection  of  her  left  me 
till  I  heard  her  shrieks.  Then  the  truth  flashed  upon 
me,  and  I  accused  myself  of  having  murdered  my 
child  !  She  had  gone  into  another  room  than  her 
grandmother's,  and  had  laid  down  the  taper ;  it  caught 
her  clothes,  and  the  flames  were  not  easily  extinguished. 
A  kind  of  convulsion  stiffened  her  for  a  moment ;  the 
burns  though  extensive  were  but  skin-deep,  and  those 
around  us  assured  us  she  was  in  no  danger.  Alas,  we 
were  not  aware  that  the  fright  she  got  had  stopped  the 
circulation  of  the  blood.    0  !  why  were  we  not  aware  of 


1798.]       THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITORE.  27 1 

it  1  Let  this  be  remembered  by  others,  and  may  no 
one  else  experience  the  distress  caused  by  our  error. 

The  dear  child  soon  ceased  to  complain  of  pain, 
kissed  all  those  about  her,  and  was  cheerful,  yet  all 
night  was  thirsty,  wakeful,  and  cold,  with  but  little 
pulse.  In  the  morning  her  whole  form  and  sweet 
countenance  underwent  a  momentary  revolution  which 
I  cannot  describe.  We  had  sent  to  Athy  for  a  doctor, 
but  he  said  nothing  could  be  done.  Meantime,  uncon- 
scious that  she  was  leaving  us,  the  dear  innocent  got 
her  book  and  her  work  into  her  bed,  and  repeated  her 
little  verses,  spoke  with  her  usual  courtesy  to  all 
around  her,  and,  happy  in  her  short  life,  closed  her 
eyes  never  more  to  open  them,  just  twenty-four  hours 
after  the  accident  happened.  We  who  had  lost  our 
darhng  child  of  four  years  old  felt  deeply  the  depriva- 
tion, and  struggled  hard  to  submit  to  the  will  of  Him 
who  gives  and  takes  away. 

My  grief  was  aggravated  by  self-accusation.  I  beheld 
my  little  cherub  lie  as  in  a  placid  sleep,  her  bloom  not 
quite  gone.  I  listened  to  those  who  desired  me  to 
reflect  on  the  many  fathers  of  families  who  lay  buried 
in  ditches,  slaughtered  in  the  prime  of  manhood  and  of 
usefulness  ;  and  to  the  widow  who  with  tears  reminded 
me  that  I  had  still  my  husband  !  I  reflected  how, 
a  brief  time  ago,  his  precious  life  had  seemed  near 
departing,  and  I  strove  to  extract  consolation  from  the 
genuine  sympathy  bestowed  by  our  friends  ;  yet  I 
thought  no  sympathy  reached  my  heart  so  fully  as 
once  when  I  raised  my  eyes  from  contemplating  the 


272  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^/P^- 

lovely  remains  of  my  cliild,  and  met  those  of  a  poor 
neighbour  woman  fastened  upon  me  in  silence,  large 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  her  countenance 
filled  with  the  deepest  concern.  She  was  a  coarse- 
featured,  strong,  rough  woman,  and  had  forborne  any 
expression  by  words  of  what  she  felt. 

Our  Jane  was  borne  from  our  sight ;  the  grave 
closed  upon  her  for  ever  ;  her  little  playfellows  be- 
decked it  with  flowers,  and  wept  for  their  lost  com- 
panion, while  their  schoolmistress  and  her  husband 
mourned  as  for  a  favourite  grandchild.  Even  in  this 
season  of  universal  dismay  the  loss  of  this  dear  child 
was  very  generally  deplored ;  she  was  so  beautiful,  so 
engaging,  so  beloved — not  like  a  thing  of  earth.  So 
ended  the  year  1798.     Oh  !  year  of  woe  ! 

That  year,  that  eventful  year,  which  to  me  began 
with  the  fulness  of  joy,  I  saw  depart  laden  with  deep 
and  piercing  sorrow.  Thus  trouble  takes  its  rounds  ; 
but  "  shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord, 
and  shall  we  not  also  receive  evil  T' 

We  were  almost  i^i'epared  to  congratulate  our  pre- 
cious child  on  her  escape,  and  to  think  that  her  timid 
nature  might  have  been  terrified  into  imbecility,  when, 
shortly  after  her  death,  the  robbers  paid  us  another 
visit,  breaking  in  the  windows  in  the  solemn  midnight, 
and  scaring  us  out  of  our  quiet  slumbers  to  behold 
armed  men  in  our  very  chambers.  They  discovered 
what  we  strove  to  conceal,  for  their  search  was  very 
strict,  and  they  took  whatever  suited  their  purposes ; 
but  withal  treated  us  with  civility  and  respect.     They 


1 799.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  2^3 

had  been  at  other  houses,  and  had  just  robbed  a  pedlar 
of  goods  to  a  large  amount.  Mary  Doyle,  whose  face, 
even  in  that  hour  of  terror,  reminded  me  of  the  fine 
white  marble  figures  I  had  seen  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
pale,  serious,  smooth,  and  handsome,  ventured  to  expos- 
tulate ;  but  a  false  alarm  that  the  soldiers  were  coming 
had  more  effect.  We  heard  our  Httle  Elizabeth  pray- 
ing, as  Ajax  had  once  prayed,  that  the  Lord  would 
please  to  send  us  dayhght. 

Hearing  that  some  of  our  plundered  property  had 
been  found,  and  was  in  the  custody  of  Squire  Ryves  of 
Rathsallagh  till  it  should  be  claimed,  Mary  Doyle  and 
I  went  thither.  The  way  appeared  long,  lonely,  and 
drear.  The  large  old  mansion  of  Eathsallagh  exhibited 
a  melancholy  picture.  Its  neglected  appearance,  barri- 
cadoed  windows,  the  absence  of  the  female  part  of  the 
family,  and  the  presence  of  a  military  guard,  made  us 
think  our  own  situation  preferable,  as  we  were  permit- 
ted to  enjoy  domestic  comfort.  Some  of  our  things 
were  here,  and  while  the  squire  restored  them  to  us,  he 
smiled,  and  warned  us  of  our  danger  of  being  robbed 
again.  He  foretold  but  too  truly,  though  for  a  while 
we  heard  only  distant  alarms,  such  as  of  the  mail-coach 
and  travellers  having  been  robbed.  Snowy  weather,  we 
thought,  kept  the  plunderers  from  us,  from  apprehen- 
sion lest  the  track  of  their  feet  should  betray  their 
haunts.  The  snow,  however,  melted,  and  a  widow 
neighbour  became  the  object  of  their  pillage.  She  had 
charge  of  the  post-office,  so  they  got  some  money  there. 

A  few  nights  after  this  they  made  a  general  inroad 


274  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE,  [l799- 

on  the  village,  entering  almost  every  house  except  my 
brother's.  They  had,  in  the  course  of  their  visits,  got 
themselves  intoxicated,  and  in  that  state  beset  our 
house.  My  husband  told  them  he  would  open  the 
door,  and  requested  them  not  to  break  the  windows  ; 
but  they  did  break  them,  and,  entering,  ordered  him 
fiercely  to  prepare  to  go  with  them.  He  refused,  say- 
ing, "  Do  what  you  will  to  me  here ;  I  mil  not  leave 
my  family."  "  Ten  of  us  were  shot  and  hanged  in 
Baltinglass."  "  I  had  no  hand  in  hanging  or  shooting 
you.''  He  had  but  a  few  shillings  ;  they  refused  them, 
and  enquired  what  o'clock  it  was.  He  told  them  he 
had  been  robbed  of  his  watch.  At  this  they  took 
offence  :  "  Do  you  call  us  robbers  1  We  are  no  robbers  ; 
"  we  only  want  a  little  money ;  we  want  no  watch, 
"  Did  you  ask  him  for  a  watch  f  They  grew  more 
and  more  furious,  and  struck  at  him  with  a  hanger, 
which  cut  into  the  wainscot  partition.  They  raised  a 
gun  at  him,  which  he  pushed  aside.  They  presented  a 
pistol ;  it  burned  priming. 

My  firm  belief  that  they  did  not  really  intend  mur- 
der preserved  me  in  more  composure  than  I  could  have 
thought ;  for  there  were  six  armed  men  threatening 
one  unarmed  and  defenceless.  But  now  the  clatter  of 
arms,  the  cries  of  three  women  who  stood  on  the  stair- 
case, and  the  threats  of  those  wicked  men  would  have 
overcome  me,  had  I  not  just  then  seen  my  husband 
escape  from  their  hands. 

The  next  moment  was  again  terrible.  Anne  Doyle 
came  in,  holding  her  head  with  both  hands,  and  saying 


I799'J  ^^^    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  275 

in  a  tremulous  voice  that  she  beheved  she  was  killed. 
A  ruffian  had  struck  her  with  the  butt-end  of  his  pis- 
tol, and  had  w^ounded  her  head  in  two  places.  I  saw  a 
stroke  aimed  at  the  back  of  Mary  Doyle's  head,  and 
averted  it  with  my  outstretched  arm.  She  lamented 
aloud,  and  accused  the  robbers  of  having  murdered  her 
sister;  not  silenced  by  their  offered  blows,  and  their 
threats  that  they  would  kill  her  if  she  would  not  be 
quiet.  At  last  one  cried  out,  "  Hush,  for  God's  sake  '"' 
"  Don't  mention  that  name  ;"  returned  Mary,  "  He  has 
notliing  to  do  with  such  wickedness."  They  appeared 
to  be  struck  with  the  solemnity  and  distress  with  which 
she  spoke,  their  countenances  fell,  and  their  accents 
became  those  of  compassion.  One  man,  who  had  his 
face  hidden  by  a  handkerchief,  took  her  hand  tenderly, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Surely  you  do  not  thmk  it  was  I  hurt 
her  1"     They  went  away  soon  after. 

The  next  day  an  old  woman  came  to  enquire  for 
Anne  Doyle,  and  hinted  that  when  the  robbers  thought 
we  were  rested  they  intended  to  pay  us  another  visit ; 
but  before  night  a  party  of  the  Clare  militia  came  in  to 
protect  the  inhabitants.  We  could  now  sleep  in  our 
beds  without  fear  of  disturbance,  yet  deeply  regretted 
that  we  owed  tliis  security  not  to  confidence,  but  to 
force  repellhig  force.  The  excesses  of  the  miUtary  were 
not  forgotten,  and  they  did  not  appear  to  be  cordially 
received  by  the  lower  class  of  people.  The  country  was 
far  from  being  settled ;  it  was  like  the  W(jrking  of  the 
sea  after  a  storm.  On  the  window-stools  of  the  upper 
storeys  of  many  gentlemen's  houses  were  collected  large 


276  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^799- 

stones,  placed  tliere  to  assist  in  repelling  the  attacks  of 
robbers.  Travelling  carriages  were  escorted  by  military 
guards,  and  the  mail-coacli  was  guarded  by  two  or  more 
powerfully  armed  men. 

To  our  particular  feelings  the  pubhc  commotion  was 
some  relief,  as  it  partially  drew  our  thoughts  into 
another  channel  than  the  contemplation  of  our  afflic- 
tion, and  strengthened  our  hope  that  it  was  in  mercy 
our  darhng  child  was  called  away.  The  marks  of  the 
flames  which  had  caused  her  destruction  and  of  the 
blood  which  flowed  from  our  dear  Anne's  wounds, 
together  stained  the  wainscoat ;  which  also  bore  the 
mark  of  the  hanger  aimed  at  my  husband.  These  were 
easily  obliterated,  but  the  remembrance  must  last  with 
life.  I  now  perceived  that  my  memory,  which  had 
been  uncommonly  good,  was  much  impaired,  and  I  im- 
puted it  to  the  series  of  repeated  shocks  which  my 
mind  had  sustained.  Such  shocks  had  deprived  many 
of  health  and  some  of  reason,  and  we  who  were  spared 
both  had  additional  cause  for  thankfulness. 

One  day  we  saw  two  prisoners  brought  in  who  had 
robbed  a  gentleman  in  open  daylight  on  the  high  road ; 
the  soldiers  got  the  alarm,  and  quickly  apprehended 
them.  In  a  few  days  their  lives  were  ended  by  martial 
law  in  Carlo w.  The  soldiers  having  been  withdrawn 
from  Timolin,  Pat  Lalor's  house  was  robbed,  his 
daughter  beaten,  and  he  himself  barely  escaped  with 
liis  life.  One  evening  the  village  was  alarmed  by  a 
soldier  having  shot  another  man.  Two  of  the  "  Ancient 
Britons,"  who  had  been  sent  on  an  express,  entered 


I799-J        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  277 

a  carman's  stage-house,  where  were  also  some  Kil- 
kenny carriers.  One  of  the  dragoons  forgetting  he 
had  changed  horses  with  his  comrade,  and  knowing 
that  his  own  pistol  was  not  charged,  snapped  the  pistol 
he  held  in  his  hand  in  jest  at  one  of  the  carriers ;  it 
was  loaded  with  death,  and  the  young  man  instantly 
lay  on  the  floor  a  bloody  corpse  ;  the  soldier,  standing 
over  him,  wringing  his  hands,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what 
have  I  done  !"  He  was  tried  and  acquitted,  much  to 
the  dissatisfaction  of  the  country -people. 

Several  robbers  were  at  this  time  shot  or  imprisoned. 
Amongst  the  latter  was  Doyle ;  he  was  in  great  danger, 
but  he  escaped  death.  We  believed,  notwithstanding, 
that  the  inclination  for  plunder  still  continued,  for  the 
day  the  Dumfries  fencibles  left  Ballitore,  several  men 
of  suspicious  as^^ect  appeared  in  the  village,  and  our 
lower  class  of  neighbours  seemed  to  exult  in  the  de- 
parture of  the  military,  and  to  be  crest-fallen  when 
another  regiment  came.  It  was  on  a  fine  day,  and 
while  the  market  was  being  held,  that  we  saw  two 
men  yet  living  pass  through  the  village,  escorted  by  a 
strong  military  guard  ;  but  on  the  same  car  were  their 
coffins.  One  had  been  convicted  for  burning  the  court- 
house at  Narraghmore,  the  other  for  the  murder  of 
Hannah  Manders,  and  they  were  to  suffer  death  at  the 
places  were  theu^  crimes  had  been  committed.  One 
of  the  men  hung  his  head  weeping,  the  other  looked 
about  as  if  stupified  by  terror.  The  march  of  the 
soldiers  was  slow  and  solemn,  and  the  people  in  the 
market  seemed  afraid  to  notice  the  prisoners. 


278  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [^799' 

Hugh  Cullen  now  returned  to  his  family  from  a  long 
imprisonment,  and,  attended  by  his  glad  father,  called 
to  see  his  neighbours,  who  welcomed  him  back  to  life 
and  liberty.* 

One  of  the  curiosities  of  our  village,  our  old  neigh- 
bour Finlay  McClane,  after  a  severe  conflict  with  death, 
yielded  at  last,  having  just  completed  his  iioth  year, 
and  possessing  his  mental  faculties  to  the  end. 

The  sad  account  reached  us  about  this  time  of  the 
death  of  our  dear  Tom  Eyre.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
Clogheen,  where  his  regiment  was  quartered,  and  my 
sister  Grubb  and  he  anticipated  much  pleasure  in  each 
other's  society.  His  journey  was  arrested  at  Kilkenny 
by  an  attack  of  gout  in  the  stomach,  which  speedily 
put  an  end  to  his  life.  At  these  tidings  I  mourned  for 
him  with  sisterly  sorrow,  and  wept  bitter,  unavailing 
tears,  while  retracing  the  pleasant  scenes  of  cliildhood. 

I  did  not  say  in  the  right  place  how  spring,  though 
remarkably  late  this  year,  at  length  clothed  the  face  of 
nature  in  more  than  wonted  beauty.  But,  alas,  it  could 
not  bring  to  our  minds  the  sensations  of  gladness  which 
it  had  formerly  conveyed.  Our  hearts  dwelt  on  the 
recollection  that  our  slaughtered  neighbours,  our  mur- 
dered friend,  and  our  departed  child  had  been  enjoy- 
ing hfe  and  health  with  us  when  last  the  fields  were 


*  Hugh  Cullen  was  father  to  Paul  Cullen,  the  present  Roman 
Catholic  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  1862, 


79 


CHAPTER  X. 

1799. 

Destruction  of  trees  in  Ballitore. — Return  of  Sally  Shackleton 
from  her  travels  in  the  ministry. — Arrival  of  Captain  Smith 
and  his  accomplished  family. — Sudden  death  of  Ephraim 
Boake. — Hard  times. — Outrages  and  robbery  continue. — Betsy 
Barrington. — An  army  officer  becomes  a  "convinced  Friend." 
— Thomas  Bewley  and  his  sisters  settle  in  the  village. — Dolly 
Finn's  second  marriage. — The  Smiths  leave  Ireland. — A  pic- 
turesque funeral. — Peaceful  times  return. — Strange  whim  of  a 
dying  peer. — The  Medlicotts. — Agrarian  murder — The  Union. 
— The  Bishop  of  Meath. — Death  of  Mary  Bewley.— Ballitore 
Inn  opened. — Melesina  St.  George. — John  Christy  settles  at 
Irishtown. — His  naval  visitor. — Vain  sports  and  places  of 
diversion. — Dissolution  of  Ballitore  school. — Pensive  reflec- 
tions __         __         -_         -_         __         __     279  to  309 

A  ND  now  another  calamity,  as  I  deemed  it,  befel  Bal- 
litore. Incensed  at  the  loss  of  so  much  of  his  timber, 
and  having  already  sold  Brownstown  grove  and  other 
plantations,  William  Bayly  advertised  the  trees  of  Bal- 
litore to  be  sold  by  auction — those  trees  so  carefully 
preserved  by  his  grandfather  and  father.  But  he  had 
never  sported  in  his  youth  beneath  these  shades,  watched 
the  successive  budding  of  the  beech,  the  asli,  and  the 
elm,  and  remarked  their  beautiful  diversity  of  foliage. 


28o  THE  ANNxiLS  OF  BALLITORE.  [l799- 

He  had  never  mourned  over  their  falling  leaves,  nor 
admired  the  exquisite  incrustations  of  their  leafless 
branches,  sparkling  in  the  cheering  sunshine  of  a  frosty 
winter's  day. 

My  husband  and  John  Thomas  were  the  purchasers, 
and  they  strove  to  spare  what  they  could,  consistently 
with  prudence.  The  six  stately  beeches  at  the  meeting- 
house, and  an  arching  shade  over  the  approach  from 
the  high  road,  and  at  the  other  entrances  to  the  village, 
were  spared  ;  insomuch  that  those  who  had  never  seen 
Ballitore  embowered  as  it  once  had  been  considered,  it 
still  very  shady.  Though  my  own  family  reaped  some 
advantage  by  this  purchase,  and  though  I  was  certain 
that  if  the  jDurchase  had  fallen  into  other  hands  our 
village  would  have  been  completely  dismantled,  I  could 
not  conquer  my  regrets. 

The  meeting-house  grove  fell ;  so  did  that  huge  beech 
of  great  circumference  which  bore  on  its  bark  the  initials 
of  favourite  nymphs  and  swains  of  several  generations. 
The  trees  leading  to  Fuller's  Court  no  longer  overarched 
the  way,  or  afforded  a  habitation  for  the  little  warblers 
on  a  summer's  morning,  or  for  the  rooks  whose  cawings 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  evening.  I  dreamed  of  the 
devoted  trees,  and  I  wept  for  their  downfall.  Yet  per- 
haps to  the  circumstance  wliich  I  so  much  deplored  I 
owe  the  health  and  life  of  some  of  my  friends ;  and 
how  little  would  the  presence  of  my  beloved  trees  have 
consoled  me,  if  beneath  their  shade  I  had  been  des- 
tined to  lament  the  death  of  some  dear  friend  cut  off 
by  one  of  those  putrid  fevers  wliich  so  often  visited 


1 799-]  THE  ANNxiLS  OF  BALLITORE.  28l 

Ballitore  before  tlieir  fall  admitted  a  freer  circulation 
of  air. 

After  a  prolonged  absence  of  two  years  and  a  half, 
travelling  in  England,  Scotland,  Wales,  the  Isle  of 
Man,  and  Guernsey,  on  a  religious  visit,  our  dear 
sister  Sally  Shackleton  returned  home,  and  her  return 
diffused  universal  joy.  Her  presence  chased  many  a 
cloud  from  our  minds,  and  cheered  the  poor,  who 
hailed  with  delight  their  unwearied  friend,  and  thought 
all  would  go  well  now  that  "  Miss  Sally  was  come 
home."  Her  own  heart  heaved  with  contending  emo- 
tions. Her  wish  to  be  again  with  her  own  family  was 
attained,  but  the  changed  aspect  of  things  distressed 
her.  Her  native  shades  were  disfigured  by  the  axe, 
her  friend  Doctor  Johnson  was  laid  in  an  untimely 
grave,  her  little  niece  in  another,  and  her  venerable 
mother  reduced  to  imbecility.  But  her  spirit  soon 
recovered  its  calmness,  and  we  were  enabled  to  rejoice 
once  more  together. 

The  Essex  fencibles  were  now  ordered  away,  and 
were  replaced  by  the  22nd  Dragoons,  Captain  Smith 
commanding.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  and  his 
countenance  and  manner  bespoke  the  high  respecta- 
bility of  his  character.  Within  a  few  years  he  had 
experienced  a  great  reverse  of  fortune.  He  had  en- 
joyed large  possessions,  and  his  wife  had  brought  him 
£50,000.  He  unfortunately  engaged  in  a  bank,  which 
failed,  leaving  him  in  comparative  poverty.  This  occa- 
sioned his  entering  the  army.  His  beautiful  seat 
in  Enpfland  was  sold  far  below  its  value.     He  loved  the 


282  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.         [^799- 

scene  his  taste  had  embelKshed,  and,  having  taken  a 
place  at  some  distance,  found  a  melancholy  pleasure  in 
viewing  it  through  a  telescope.  His  reverse  of  fortune 
became  still  more  distressing  when  he  was  ordered  to 
Ireland  during  the  rebellion.  He  was  engaged  in  the 
battle  of  Ballinahinch,  where  his  humane  feelings  suf- 
fered deeply  ;  and  though  he  did  his  duty  as  an  officer, 
he  withheld  his  hand  from  shedding  blood. 

His  excellent  wife  accompanied  him  to  Ireland.  They 
brought  to  Ballitore  three  fine  daughters,  Bess,  Kitty, 
and  Juliet ;  their  little  boy  Louis,  about  nine  years  old ; 
and  their  daughter-in-law  Louise,  w^ho  was  pleasing  and 
affable,  with  an  animated  and  engaging  countenance. 
Juhet  Smith,  the  mother,  was  tall,  slender,  and  stately, 
her  face  interesting,  and  her  smile  sweet.  Her  eldest 
daughter,  Bess,  lower  in  stature,  was  pretty,  her  eyes 
blue,  her  complexion  fair,  and  her  fine  hair  of  a  light 
brown.  Kitty's  figure  and  face  w^ere  striking,  with 
much  expression  in  her  fine  black  eyes.  Juliet  was  de- 
licate, and  seemed  to  have  outgrown  her  strength.  Bess 
we  thought  partook  of  her  worthy  father's  reserve — we 
knew  not  then  of  the  treasures  of  intellect  and  goodness 
which  lay  beneath  that  modest  and  retiring  exterior. 
Kitty  resembled  her  mother  in  lively  frankness.  They 
all  drew  from  nature  with  much  taste.  Kitt/s  acquire- 
ments in  language  were  confined  to  French  and  Italian ; 
her  sister  Juliet  added  to  these  a  knowledge  of  Latin ; 
but  Bess  had  learned  twelve  languages  with  little 
assistance,  and  thirsted  after  universal  knowledge. 

The  mother  of  these  lovely  girls  was  their  friend  and 


l8oo']         THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  283 

companion.  She  was  an  uncommonly  gifted  woman  ; 
and  had  experienced  divine  support  when  so  many 
temporal  comforts  had  been  taken  away.  They  were 
now  moving  in  a  lower  sphere  of  hfe  than  that  to 
which  they  were  entitled ;  but  to  us  they  appeared  to 
move  in  a  high  one.  They  kept  a  coach  and  several 
saddle  horses  ;  and  cbessed  richly,  yet  with  modest  ele- 
gance. The  mother  always  wore  a  riding  habit.  The 
young  women  took  long  walks  into  the  surrounding 
country;  they  were  very  dexterous  with  the  needle, 
and  very  charitable.  Kitty's  pretty  lingers  never 
looked  so  pretty,  I  thought,  as  when  employed  making 
a  frieze  suit  for  a  poor  little  orphan  whom  they  fed  and 
clothed,  and  for  whose  schooling  they  paid. 

Our  friend  Ephraim  Boake  had  seen  his  76th  sum- 
mer. The  attachment  between  him  and  his  neigh- 
bours increased  as  the  time  seemed  to  approach  which 
must  separate  them ;  that  time,  however,  we  hoped 
was  yet  far  distant,  and  the  green  old  age  of  the  vener- 
able man  strengthened  this  hope.  One  fine  morning 
Ephraim  walked  down  to  his  sheep-pond,  near  to  the 
house,  with  the  intention  of  washing  his  head  there,  as 
he  had  often  done  before.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his 
limbs,  stiffened  with  age,  should  fail  as  he  stooped  to 
the  fatal  water,  and  occasion  the  lamented  catastrophe 
which  closed  his  long  life.  In  about  half  an  hour  his 
body  was  found  still  floating,  liis  hat  and  towel  near, 
and  his  dog  beside  them.  A  messenger  was  sent  for 
me,  saying  that  Mr.  Boake  had  fallen  into  the  water, 
but  not  stating  that  the  accident  was  fatal.    I  hastened 


284  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITOKE.  [180O. 

to  Boakefield,  which  I  had  nearly  reached  before  I 
heard  that  its  old  master  was  no  more.  That  dwelling 
was  now  a  scene  of  distress.  In  the  kitchen  sat 
several  men  with  dejected  countenances, — in  the  par- 
lour lay  his  wet  clothes,  and  on  his  own  bed  lay  the 
remains  of  dear  Ephraim,  looking  as  if  asleep.  His 
daughter  (Jane  Thomas)  and  her  husband  lay  one  at 
each  side  of  him,  endeavouring  to  restore  the  vital 
warmth,  while  attendants  were  rubbing  him  with 
flannels  wrung  out  of  hot  spirits,  and  clapping  and 
fomenting  his  limbs.  With  the  assistance  of  the 
women  I  got  the  fumes  of  tobacco  into  his  chest,  and 
the  vein  which  had  been  opened,  but  did  not  bleed, 
began  to  flow.  I  note  this  to  encourage  the  trial  of 
this  means,  though  in  this  instance  the  faint  hope 
raised  by  the  flow  of  blood  soon  faded  away,  and  the 
symptoms  of  death  became  more  and  more  evident. 

His  daughter's  anguish  was  inexpressible ;  she  would 
not  for  a  moment  leave  her  father;  or  relax  in  the 
ineffectual  search  for  life,  but  for  twelve  hours  clung  to 
the  body,  which  growing  colder  and  colder  chilled  her 
own  frame  into  death-like  frigidity.  The  chamber 
windows  on  one  side  looked  out  on  the  lawn  spotted 
over  with  the  unconscious  sheep  ;  on  the  other  to  the 
garden,  newly  dressed  under  the  inspection  of  him  who 
would  never  see  it  more.  The  contrast  was  striking 
between  those  peaceful  objects  and  the  distress  within. 
I  felt  qualified  to  sympathize  in  this  distress,  for  my 
own  wound  was  torn  open  afresh.  The  stroke  of 
untimely  death  had  deprived  his  attached  daughter  of 


l800.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  285 

a  fond  parent,  and  me  of  a  lovely  child ;  well  might  we 
weep  together. 

The  situation  of  the  people  had  now  strong  claims 
upon  humanity.  Perhaps  the  waste  of  war  and  the 
neglect  of  cultivation  in  consequence  were  the  original 
causes  of  the  scarcity  which  was  now  so  severely  felt 
by  the  poor.  Provisions  were  purchased  by  subscrip- 
tion and  sold  to  them  at  low  prices.  The  broth  in 
which  meat  had  been  boiled  was  made  into  soup,  and 
distributed  to  the  crowds  of  children  who  surrounded 
our  doors,  and  whose  parents  would  once  have  shrunk 
from  beggary.  Potatoes  were  thirteen  pence  per  stone.* 
My  husband  had  a  large  stock  of  this  necessary  food, 
which  enabled  him  to  join  largely  in  the  pubHc  contri- 
bution, and  also  to  feed  his  workmen  in  our  kitchen 
without  feehng  the  increase  of  expense  so  much  as  he 
might  otherwise  have  done.  When  the  spring  work 
was  completed,  and  he  was  about  to  discharge  his  work- 
men, the  distress  to  which  his  doing  so  would  expose 
them  touched  him  so  deeply,  that  he  planned  how  he 
could  continue  to  employ  them.  He  had  some  land  at 
Mount  Blake  which  had  been  so  trespassed  on  during 
and  since  the  rebellion,  that  it  was  rendered  totally 
unprofitable  for  farming  purposes.  He  thought  of 
building  upon  it ;  and  accordingly  the  first  stone  of 
BalHtore  Inn  was  laid  ;  and,  as  the  foundation  was  laid 
in  charity,  I  hope  it  will  ever  prosper.  The  poor  peo- 
ple laboured  with  grateful  and  cheerful  diligence,  and  a 

*  In  the  famine  year,  1847,  potatoes  were  sold  at  two  sliillings 
and  sixpence  per  stone  in  Dublin. 


2  86  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [180O. 

pretty  little  house  was  soon  raised,  which  proved  suit- 
able for  the  object  in  view. 

Despite  the  presence  of  a  military  force,  outrages 
and  robberies  still  frequently  occurred,  and  kept  us  in 
a  state  of  perpetual  alarm  and  anxiety.  When  these 
midnight  robbers  attacked  a  house  in  the  country,  they 
usually  set  fire  to  it  if  they  met  with  any  resistance  ; 
so  that  many  of  the  farmers  around  were  houseless,  and 
were  wont  to  come  into  our  village  at  night.  Some 
robbers  were  shot  by  the  military  ;  one  of  these  had 
my  watch  in  his  pocket,  but  I  did  not  regain  it.  In- 
deed it  would  not  have  been  acceptable  to  me,  stained 
with  blood  as  I  should  have  thought  it — remembering 
also  how  its  well-known  hands  had  marked  the  time 
for  its  sinful  possessor  to  use  in  deeds  of  desperation. 
We  saw  the  dead  bodies  of  these  robbers  go  by  on  a 
car,  partly  covered  with  hay,  and  in  the  evening  again 
passing  from  the  barrack,  on  a  bier  covered  with  a 
sheet.  Captain  Smith  highly  disapproved  of  the  rash 
act  wliich  his  soldiers  had  committed. 

In  1788,  Betsy  Pike  spent  a  few  weeks  with  us. 
She  was  then  a  very  young  girl,  and  greatly  endeared 
herself  to  us  by  her  amiable  manners,  her  pleasing 
person,  her  good  understanding,  and  happy  disposition ; 
and  time  did  not  belie  these  fair  promises.  In  1 795, 
Joseph  Barrington  was  so  highly  favoured  as  to  obtain 
her  hand.  In  1797,  they  came  for  a  time  to  Ballitore, 
Joseph  being  then  ill  in  consumption.  In  those  pre- 
carious times  the  cotton  business  in  which  he  was 
engaged  proved  unsuccessful ;   his  fairest  hopes  were 


l8oO.]  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  287 

cruslied ;  his  respectable  parents  were  involved  in  the 
ruin  of  the  house;  and  the  young  man  sank  under  his 
misfortunes.  His  wife  nursed  him  with  the  tenderest 
care,  and  fondly  caught  at  every  ray  of  hope.  She  had 
a  little  before  resigned  to  the  grave  her  infant  child  ; 
yet,  being  blessed  with  a  hopeful  mind  which  sweet- 
ened the  bitter  cup,  she  bore  calmly  the  distresses 
which  she  deeply  felt.  They  took  a  pretty  little  house 
in  Carlow,  and  opened  a  small  shop ;  Joseph,  ill  as  he 
was,  industriously  and  ingeniously  employing  himself. 
He  died- in  Carlow  on  the  25th  of  Fourth-month,  1798, 
his  lonely  w^idow  remaining  in  her  dwelling  in  placid 
sorrow,  while  war  and  the  rumours  of  war  raged  around 
her.  In  1800,  she  came  to  reside  in  Ballitore.  She 
took  Jonathan  Haughton's  old  house,  improved  it  and 
opened  a  shop  there.  We  gladly  welcomed  Betsy  Bar- 
rington  as  an  inhabitant  of  our  valley. 

Dudley  Colcough  paid  us  a  visit  this  year.  When 
we  saw  him  last  he  was  a  showy  young  officer,  the 
beauty  of  his  person  rendered  more  conspicuous  by  his 
mihtary  attire.  We  were  therefore  surprised  to  see  the 
gay  youth  transformed  on  a  sudden,  as  it  appeared  to 
us,  into  a  very  orthodox  Friend.  He  had  sacrificed  too 
much  for  us  to  doubt  his  sincerity,  for  he  had  by  this 
step  disobliged  his  father,  whose  only  son  he  was.  He 
told  us  he  had  been  convinced  of  the  truth  of  our 
principles  by  reading  Barclay's  Apology,  which  had 
accidentally  fallen  in  his  way  at  his  quarters.  One 
circumstance  which  he  told  me  long  after  tliis  period  I 
may  here  introduce.    Being  the  son  of  a  man  of  fortune, 


288  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [iSoO. 

young,  inexperienced,  and  at  a  distance  from  those  most 
interested  in  liis  welfare,  his  fellow-officers  endeavoured 
to  allure  liim  to  gamble.  He  consented  reluctantly, 
and  won  half-a-guinea  from  one  of  tliem ;  instead  of 
being  elated  with  his  success,  his  mind  revolted  at 
gaining  by  such  means  ^  and  he  insisted  on  restoring  the 
half-guinea,  which,  of  course,  prevented  any  further 
solicitations  to  play. 

My  sister  Sally  took  the  Mill-house  from  my  brother, 
and  removed  thither  with  my  mother,  Molly  Hudson, 
and  Mary  Dickenson.  My  dear  mother's  increasing 
debility  was  gradual  but  sure. 

Thomas  Bewley,  his  wife,  and  his  sisters  Mary  and 
Susan,  left  Dublin  and  came  to  reside  in  Ballitore. 
Thomas  took  from  my  husband  the  house  in  the  Burrow 
which  stood  at  the  nearest  angle  to  our  yard.  This  he 
converted  into  a  very  neat  habitation,  made  a  tan-yard 
adjoining,  and  planted  a  nice  garden.  His  sisters  pur- 
chased from  my  brother  part  of  the  lime-kiln  field,  and 
Juhet  Smith  assisted  them  in  planning  a  most  desirable 
little  dwelling  in  the  cottage  style.  The  situation  took 
in  the  most  beautiful  view  in  the  valley.  I  laid  the 
first  stone,  and  my  long-beloved  Mary  and  I  rejoiced  that 
to  the  tie  of  friendship  was  added  the  bond  of  neigh- 
bourhood.    I  was  elated  :  perhaps  too  much  so. 

Poor  Dolly  Finn  struggled  to  rear  her  young  family 
of  two  sons  and  two  daughters  in  this  season  of  famine, 
and  I  believe  it  was  maternal  tenderness  more  than 
any  other  consideration  wliich  induced  her  to  accept  an 
offer  of  marriage  from  Pat  Byrne,  for  her  murdered 


l8oo.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  289 

Owen  never  seemed  to  lose  his  place  in  her  heart. 
Her  second  husband  was  a  mason,  in  good  repute  for 
sobriety,  industry,  and  ingenuity  ;  he  was  a  mdower  ; 
and  his  eldest  son,  about  twelve  years  old,  was  an 
intelligent  lad,  and  manifested  much  respect  and  affec- 
tion for  his  step-mother.  On  the  death  of  his  father, 
who  was  cut  off  by  a  malignant  fever  in  less  than  two 
years,  he  set  out  to  seek  his  fortune,  with  the  good 
wishes  and  recommendations  of  his  friends. 

About  this  time  we  opened  a  little  school  for  poor 
children  in  Ballitore.  There  were  several  superintend- 
ants  for  a  while,  but  at  length  the  whole  trouble  de- 
volved on  Betsy  Shackleton.  Though  so  young  she 
was  competent  to  the  task,  and  communicated  her 
ingenuity  in  needlework  to  many  of  the  pupils,  while 
she  sharpened  her  own  talents  by  exercise.  Bess  Len_ 
non  was  the  school-mistress.  The  family  removing 
from  the  house  and  other  circumstances  caused  the 
decline  of  this  little  institution. 

Juliet  Smith,  though  prejudiced  in  favour  of  many 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Ireland,  greatly  disliked  the  coun- 
try as  a  place  of  residence  ;  which  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at,  considering  that  she  knew  it  only  in  its 
misettled  and  stormy  state.  She  was  desirous  to  fix 
her  residence  in  the  north  of  England.  My  brother 
applied  to  Thomas  Wilkinson  to  direct  their  choice, 
and  thus  introduced  those  uncommon  characters  to 
each  other.  The  zeal  with  which  Thomas  Wilkinson 
undertook  and  executed  this  commission  impressed 
Captain  Smith's  family  with  the  happy  certainty  of 


290  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [180I. 

having  obtained  a  friend  previous  to  their  arrival 
among  strangers.  They  left  Ballitore  sincerely  regret- 
ted ;  hut  their  departure  did  not  break  the  bonds  of 
our  friendship. 

Thomas  and  Fanny  Bewley  moved  into  their  new- 
house.  Through  their  pretty  garden,  which  displayed 
the  taste  and  skill  of  its  fair  mistress,  we  were  admitted 
to  their  sister's  cottage — advancing  from  the  garden 
along  a  shady  walk  at  one  side  of  the  pond  wliich 
bounded  my  brother's  garden,  and  crossing  it  by  a  pic- 
turesque wooden  bridge.  The  cottage  was  surrounded 
by  its  tasteful  little  garden,  and  the  perfect  neatness 
within  could  not  detach  the  eyes  from  the  delightful 
landscape  without.  A  drawing  of  the  cottage  by  Juliet 
Smith  decorated  one  of  the  rooms,  and  under  it  she  had 
transcribed  these  lines  : — 

Enough  has  Heaven  indulged  of  joy  below 
To  tempt  our  tarriance  in  this  loved  retreat ; 

Enough  has  Heaven  ordained  of  useful  woe 
To  make  us  languish  for  a  happier  seat. 

Mary  Bewley  delighted  in  the  country  and  in  all  its 
occupations.  She  was  settled  exactly  to  her  mind,  and 
acknowledged  that  all  her  wishes  as  to  temporals  were 
fulfilled,  even  to  the  possession  of  a  tortoise-shell  cat. 
This  comfort  was  soon  interrupted  by  Susan  taking  a 
fever,  wliich  caused  great  alarm  on  her  account;  but 
she  recovered,  and  all  looked  bright  again. 

My  brother's  mill  was  robbed  of  a  good  deal  of  its 
contents,  and  it  was  discovered  that  the  person  sus- 
pected of  having  robbed  the  post-bag  some  years  before 


I 


I  80  I.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITOIIE.  29  I 

was  a  party  concerned.  No  attempt,  however,  was 
made  by  my  brother  to  bring  him  to  justice,  as  the 
forfeiture  of  life  might  have  followed  conviction. 

This  summer,  hke  the  foregoing  one,  was  remarkably 
hot  and  dry,  and  scarcity  was  still  felt.  We  discovered 
that  William  Lennou's  family  had  been  twenty-four 
hours  without  food;  and  we  were  angTy  as  well  as 
grieved  that  pride  should  lead  them  to  conceal  their 
distress.  A  plentiful  harvest  crowned  the  year,  and 
demanded  gratitude;  but  the  minds  of  the  people  were 
not  yet  settled.  Mick  Brennan  and  another  young 
man  having  been  made  prisoners  by  the  yeomen,  and 
attempting  to  escape,  were  shot  by  them.  Boakefield 
house  was  also  again  attacked,  or  rather  entered,  by 
four  armed  men,  who  confined  the  family  in  one  room, 
while  they  plundered  the  house  of  property  to  the  vakie 
of  about  fifty  pounds. 

Here  let  me  describe  the  funeral  of  a  youth  in  our 
village,  as  the  ceremonies  with  which  it  was  attended 
are  now  nearly  extinct.  Two  youths  of  his  own  age, 
his  companions  and  schoolfellows,  walked  first,  with 
white  hat-bands  and  scarfs,  bearing  between  them  an 
ornamented  cross.  Two  more  followed,  one  with  the 
garland  to  plant  on  his  early  grave,  the  other  with  a 
basket  of  flowers  to  scatter  over  it.  Then  came  twenty- 
four  couple  of  young  men  and  maidens,  each  couple 
holding  a  white  handkerchief  between  them,  the  youths 
wearing  white  hat-bands  and  scarfs,  and  carrying  orna- 
mented wands,  the  girls  dressed  all  in  pure  white. 
These  simple  tributes  to  departed  worth  and  youth, 


292  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [180I. 

rarely  as  they  are  to  be  met  with  in  these  days,  were 
extremely  touching. 

Now  that  we  rested  once  more,  as  it  were,  under  our 
own  vines  and  our  own  fig-trees,  I  felt  as  if  Ballitore  was 
itself  again.  In  so  narrow  a  circle  as  ours  a  tender  bond  of 
affection  becomes  twined  with  the  tie  of  neighbourhood, 
which  adds  exceedingly  to  its  strength.  We  can  ima- 
gine a  state  of  society  in  which  even  the  temporary 
absence  of  a  neighbour  causes  a  shade  of  gloom,  and 
his  return  a  ray  of  sunshine ;  where  the  sickness  or 
misfortune  of  one  is  felt  by  sympathy  through  the 
whole  body ;  where  the  shopkeepers  live  in  unaffected 
harmony,  and  lend  and  borrow  goods  for  the  wants  of 
their  customers,  instead  of  taking  advantage  of  the 
scarcity  of  any  particular  article.  All  this  we  can 
imagine  to  be  possible,  and  perhaps  to  be  practised,  in 
other  places.  In  Ballitore  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  place, 
and  no  wondering  thought  is  ever  bestowed  upon  it. 

Our  neighbour,  Lord  Aldborough,  having  fallen  into 
ill  health,  to  cheer  the  scene  planned  to  assemble  around 
him  at  Belan  a  large  party  of  young  people  of  both 
sexes ;  and — whether  in  jest  or  earnest  I  know  not — 
proposed  that  if  these  nymphs  and  swains  should  incline 
towards  each  other,  they  should  be  immediately  joined 
in  the  bonds  of  Hymen.  Before  the  appointed  festive 
day  the  earl  was  so  ill  as  to  lay  all  these  plans  aside, 
and  in  a  short  time  he  breathed  his  last. 

Thomas  Kelly,  the  son  of  Judge  Kelly,  living  near 
Athy,  held  religious  meetings  occasionally  in  Ballitore. 
This  excellent  man  early  in  life  devoted  himself  to  reli- 


[8oi.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE. 


293 


gious  duties,  and  with  stability  and  sincerity  trod  the 
narrow  path,  choosing  a  wife  of  his  own  stamp,  of  the 
Tighe  family  in  the  county  of  Wexford. 

This  year  Sarah  Medlicott  came  to  reside  in  our 
neighbourhood.  Her  husband  was  a  man  of  ample 
fortune,  but  a  poor  miser,  and  unworthy  of  such  a  wife. 
She  weathered  through  some  years  of  her  life  with  this 
ill-suited  companion,  from  whom  at  length  she  sepa- 
rated, and  supported  her  family  in  gentility  on  a  very 
moderate  income,  submitting  to  many  privations  for 
the  sake  of  independence,  and  resolving  to  contract 
no  debts.  Her  three  daughters,  Susanna,  Sally,  and 
Isabella,  came  with  her,  also  her  friend  Mary  Costello, 
a  person  of  delicate  health,  but  possessed  of  uncommon 
talents  and  worth ;  her  paintings  and  her  pictures  in 
needlework  were  admirable.  This  family  at  first  occu- 
pied the  glebe  house  at  Timolin,  but  soon  left  it  for 
Willowbrook. 

A  dreadful  circumstance  occurred  at  this  time  in  our 
neighbourhood.  The  farm  at  the  Nine-tree  hill,  which 
had  belonged  to  the  Duffy  family,  was  the  scene  of  this 
tragedy.  The  Duffys  had  been  ejected  for  non-pay- 
ment of  rent;  and  Toomy,  who  got  the  land  after  them, 
paid  them  a  handsome  sum  of  money  on  placing  Hig- 
ginbotham  in  possession.  Kit  Duffy  beheld  a  stranger 
thrive  on  the  spot  where  his  ancestors  had  thriven, 
^vith  feelings  whose  malignity  no  kindness  (and  much 
was  shown  him)  could  soften.  He  procured  an  associ- 
ate, and  while  walking  in  apparent  amity  with  Higgin- 
botham,  the  two  fell  upon  the  unsuspecting  man  and 


294  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [180I. 

beat  his  brains  out.  They  escaped  the  hands  of  justice, 
and  even  continued  some  time  in  the  country,  boasting 
with  savage  ferocity  of  the  deed,  and  of  their  intent  to 
commit  other  acts  of  violence.  I  beheve  they  after- 
wards went  to  America.  Oh !  how  I  lamented  that 
our  sweet  Nine-tree  hill  was  the  scene  of  such  crimes, 
and  that  such  blood-stained  beings  were  my  country- 
men. 

Scarcity  of  food  now  amounted  to  famine.  The 
potato-pits  were  nightly  robbed,  and  the  weeds  of  the 
fields  were  made  to  serve  for  food  ;  but  a  fine  winter 
proved  that  Providence  cares  for  the  poor,  in  not  send- 
ing cold  and  hunger  together. 

And  now  our  j)oliticians  began  to  speak  much  of 
"the  Union" — both  for  and  against  it.  I  was  not  qua- 
lified to  judge  of  the  merits  of  the  subject.  I  longed 
only  for  peace  and  quiet,  and  to  behold  once  more  our 
fields  cultivated  and  our  poor  fed.  It  was  amusing  to 
hear  the  country-folk  discussing  the  great  political 
question  of  the  day ;  they  seemed  to  think  that  parlia- 
ment was  a  great  book  which  had  been  removed  from 
Dublin  to  England.  At  length  peace  was  proclaimed. 
The  blessed  word  was  chalked  on  the  mail-coach,  and 
bore  the  report  through  the  kingdom,  animating  some 
liearts  with  joy,  and  depressing  others  with  chsappoint- 
ment.  When  the  definitive  treaty  of  peace  was  signed, 
there  were  bonfires  and  firing  of  guns  and  illuminations, 
even  in  humble  Ballitore. 

The  bishop  of  Meath  called  at  Ballitore,  the  spot  so 
much  beloved  by  his  dear  friend  Edmund  Burke,  and 


l802.]  THE   ANNALS   OF  BALLITORE.  295 

was  mucli  delighted  with  our  village.  I  did  not  see 
him ;  but  my  husband  had  a  good  deal  of  conversation 
with  him,  and  showed  him  my  manuscript  book  of 
verses  and  Burke's  letters  to  me,  and  I  afterwards  had 
a  most  friendly  letter  from  him.  Soon  after  there 
appeared  in  the  Dublin  Evening  Post  an  account  of  the 
bishop's  visit  to  Ballitore,  speaking  of  our  village  in 
terms  of  high  admiration. 

A  very  close  trial  was  near  us.  Our  beloved  Mary 
"Eewley  was  taken  ill,  and  sank  rapidly.  The.iithof 
the  Fifth-month,  1802,  was  her  last  day  of  life.  She 
had  been  my  close  friend  for  nineteen  years,  and  I  had 
hoped  we  should  pass  our  old  age  near  one  another, 
and  that  she  would  have  long  enjoyed  that  situation  so 
answerable  to  her  wishes.  The  truth  awfully  impressed 
my  mind,  "  We  are  not  to  have  our  heaven  here." 
The  meekness,  humility,  and  integrity  of  her  character 
made  the  change  not  to  be  regretted  on  her  account ; 
but  her  sister  Susan,  her  companion  from  infancy, 
mourned  her  loss.  Her  serene  countenance  meanwhile 
concealed  the  anguish  which  preyed  on  her  life.  She 
lived  much  alone  in  her  little  cottage,  save  that  she 
sometimes  had  one  of  our  daughters  or  a  niece  of  her 
own  to  stay  -with  her.  Her  conversation  was  profit- 
able and  pleasant  to  them,  and  she  strove  not  to  sad- 
den their  minds  with  the  gloom  which  overspread  her 
own.  I  believe  her  thoughts  were  constantly  reverting 
to  her  lost  sister.  At  one  time  she  suddenly  grasped 
my  hands,  and  exclaimed,  ''  It  is  now  two-and-twenty 
months;  and  I  wonder  how  I  have  lived  so  long  !"  and 


296  THE   ANXALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [l8o2. 

burst  into  tears.  An  illness,  caused,  I  believe,  by  her 
sorrow,  soon  ensued,  and  she  felt  that  it  would  surely 
prove  fatal.  In  her  heart  she  truly  uttered,  "  Thy  will 
be  done !"  and  she  beheld  the  prospect  of  death  undis- 
mayed. Her  pure,  calm,  and  firm  mind  rested  on  the 
help  from  above  in  perfect  tranquillity. 

The  inn  on  the  high-road  from  Dublin  to  Cork  was 
completed,  and  was  let  to  Thomas  Glaizebrook.  It  soon 
acquired  a  goodly  reputation.  One  night  in  Fourth- 
month  this  year  the  house  was  uncommonly  full  of 
guests — Friends  travelling  to  the  yearly  meeting  in 
Dublin,  gentry  going  to  the  Curragh  races,  and  officers 
on  their  march.  As  we  were  retiring  to  rest,  a  mes- 
senger came  down  from  the  landlord  to  say  that  a 
lady  had  arrived  late,  that  the  house  was  full  to  over- 
flowing, and  there  was  no  room  for  her  to  take  refresh- 
ment in ;  that  she  sat  on  the  settle  in  the  kitchen, 
reading,  waiting  till  she  could  obtain  an  apartment ; 
and  that,  being  much  fatigued,  she  would  be  glad  of 
the  meanest  bed  in  the  house.  Could  we  be  so  kind 
as  to  assist  our  tenant  in  this  strait  ?  My  husband 
went  up  at  once  for  her,  and  brought  her  down  in  a 
carriage  ;  when  we  found  from  her  attendants  that  she 
was  a  person  of  consequence.  She  retired  to  rest,  after 
expressing  grateful  thanks,  and  we  thought  she  would 
pass  away  with  the  morrow ;  but  not  so.  Her  servants 
told  us  that  the  Ballybarney  estate  in  the  neighbour- 
hood belonged  to  her,  and  that  she  had  appointed  her 
agent  to  meet  her  at  Ballitore  inn,  proposing  to  take 
her  tenants  from  under  the  "  middlemen"  to  her  own 


l802.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  297 

protection.  They  also  told  us  she  had  been  for  ten 
years  the  widow  of  a  colonel,  and  had  one  son,  fourteen 
years  old. 

I  had  seen  but  little  of  her  the  night  before  ;  when 
she  entered  my  parlour  next  day,  I  was  greatly  struck 
with  her  personal  appearance.  My  heart  entirely 
acquits  me  of  having  been  influenced  by  what  I  had 
heard  of  her  rank  and  fortune.  Far  more  prepossessing 
than  these  were  the  soft  lustre  of  her  beautiful  black 
eyes,  and  the  sweetness  of  her  fascinating  smile.  Her 
dress  was  simply  elegant,  and  her  fine  dark  hair,  dressed 
according  to  the  existing  fashion,  in  rows  of  curls  over 
one  another  in  front,  appeared  to  me  as  becoming  as  it 
was  new.  These  particulars  are  not  important  to 
others,  but  to  me  they  are  inexpressibly  dear,  because 
they  recall  the  first  impression  made  on  me  by  this 
most  charming  woman,  who  afterwards  honoured  me 
with  her  friendship. 

Melesina  St.  George  spent  two  weeks  in  our  house, 
having  asked  permission  to  remain  Avith  us  rather  than 
return  to  the  inn.  Providence  had  given  her  talents 
and  dispositions  calculated  to  promote  the  improvement 
and  happiness  of  all  around  her,  while  her  meekness 
and  humility  prevented  the  restraint  of  her  superiority 
being  felt,  Avithout  taking  from  the  dignity  of  her  cha- 
racter. I  was  surprised  and  aff"ected  when  I  beheld 
her,  on  one  occasion,  seated  on  one  of  the  kitchen 
chairs  in  the  scullery,  for  coolness,  hearing  a  company 
of  little  children  of  her  tenants  sing  out  their  lessons  to 
her.     I  wished  for  her  picture  drawn  in  this  situation, 


298  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [l8o2. 

and  for  its  companion  I  should  choose  one  of  Edmund 
Burke  assisting  my  mother  to  make  pills  for  the  poor. 
It  was  mth  difficulty  I  prevailed  on  her  to  bring 
her  little  scholars  into  our  parlour,  because,  she  said, 
she  would  not  bring  them  into  her  own.  Admiring 
her  method  of  instruction,  I  told  her  she  would  make 
an  excellent  schoolmistress.  She  modestly  repHed, 
with  her  sweet  smile,  "ISlot  an  excellent  one;"  but 
added  that  she  had  no  dislike  to  the  employment,  and 
had  contemplated  it  as  a  means  of  subsistence  when 
the  rebellion  threatened  to  deprive  her  of  her  property. 

She  came  again  to  Ballitore,  and  had  apartments 
at  the  inn,  where  she  entertained  us  mth  kind  and 
polite  attention,  and  amused  her  leisure  by  taking  pen 
and  ink  sketches  of  the  views  from  thence,  not  having 
her  pencils  with  her.  She  afterwards  sent  me  a  volume 
of  her  own  poetry,  entitled,  "  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  an 
historical  ballad,  and  other  Poems."  It  had  been 
printed  in  London  for  private  circulation,  and  Avas  full 
of  pathos  and  beauty. 

From  this  period  our  friendship  became  confirmed  in 
strong  enduring  bonds,  and  we  constantly  corresponded. 
She  gratified  me  by  employing  me  on  her  charitable 
affairs,  and  I  paid  visits  to  her  tenants  at  Ballybarney, 
who  declared  themselves  happy  and  thriving  since  she 
took  them  under  her  own  care,  and  their  prayers  for 
lier  and  their  praise  of  her  were  freely  poured  forth. 
One  of  these  tenants,  whose  absurdly  consequential 
deportment  was  accounted  for  by  his  being  "  a  dealer," 
told  me  he   prayed   every   night  for  "the  lady,  and 


l802.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE,  299 

for  Mr.  Allen,  No.  22,  Upper  Bridge-street,"  showing 
me  at  the  same  time  an  invoice  of  goods,  for  which 
he  said  he  was  in  debt  to  Mr.  Allen.  This  was  a  boast, 
for  he  had  honestly  paid  for  the  goods  ;  and  why  he 
thought  being  in  debt  added  to  liis  consequence  seems 
strange,  yet  so  it  was. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  we  contemplated  an  inter- 
esting scene.  A  lovely  baby  of  four  months  old  lay 
asleep  in  the  cradle,  while  the  fond  father,  Mick  Dillon, 
with  paternal  pride  wanted  to  take  him  up  to  show  him 
to  us ;  and  when  we  forbade  this,  he  turned  the  cradle 
to  the  light  to  give  us  a  full  ^dew  of  his  reposing 
cherub.  The  mother  of  the  child  died  soon  after  its 
birth,  and  left  six  children  with  her  husband.  He  put 
the  infant  out  to  nurse,  but  thinking  that  it  was  not 
done  justice  to,  brought  it  home,  and  took  charge  of  it, 
submitting  to  the  loss  of  rest,  and  performing  feminine 
offices  with  careful  tenderness.  We  were  affected  by 
the  contrast  of  these  employments  with  the  figure  and 
countenance  of  the  rough,  strong,  labouring  man,  and 
when  we  foretold  that  the  boy  would  repay  these 
present  cares  by  the  support  and  comfort  he  would 
give  to  his  father's  age,  the  man's  conscious  smiles 
expressed  his  belief  in  our  prediction.  I  wrote  to 
my  friend  Melesina  an  account  of  this  singular  circum- 
stance, and  she  desired  me  to  make  the  child  a  present 
of  a  complete  suit  from  a  store  of  baby  linen  and 
child-bed  linen  which  she  had  committed  to  my  care, 
to  lend  to  her  tenantry  when  poverty  obliged  them  to 
require  its  use.     I  made  up  the  parcel  with  great  plea- 


300  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1803. 

sure,  and  having  sent  for  the  father,  advanced  joyfully 
mth  it  in  my  hand,  but  was  surprised  to  see  no 
corresponding  emotion  in  his  countenance,  His  little 
nurseling  was  dead,  having  been  carried  off  suddenly  by 
whooping  cough. 

I  thought  if  all  proprietors  of  estates  followed  this 
lady's  example,  there  would  be  no  need  of  a  revolution 
of  government  to  ensure  the  happiness  and  reform  the 
manners  of  the  people.  Her  tenants  longed  to  see  her 
among  them,  but  they  longed  in  vain ;  their  dear  lady 
had  availed  herself  of  the  peace  to  make  an  excursion  to 
the  Continent,  where  she  married  Eichard  Trench,  an 
Irish  gentleman,  with  whom  she  shared  the  fate  of  all 
the  English  travellers  who  were  in  France  at  the  re- 
commencement of  hostilities.  They  were  made  pri- 
soners, and  the  mother  was  thus  separated  from  her 
son,  who  was  then  pursuing  his  studies  in  England, 
and  afterwards  went  to  India  with  his  uncle.  General 
Craddock. 

The  inn  was  a  means  of  procuring  us  some  valuable 
acquaintances  and  agreeable  adventures  en  passant. 
The  Bishop  of  Meath's  account  of  BalHtore  had  inter- 
ested several  in  our  favour ;  amongst  these  was  a  family 
who  spent  one  First-day  at  the  inn,  having  a  scruple 
to  travel  on  that  day;  they  were  a  clergyman  from 
Bandon,  whose  name  was  Gorman,  his  wife,  and  two 
children.  Having  heard  of  their  being  there,  we  invited 
them  down  to  tea,  and  were  much  pleased  with  them, 
while  they  appeared  to  be  equally  pleased  with  us,  ]\Iy 
old  schoolfellow  Gilbert  Kilbee  had  given  them  some 


1803.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  30I 

of  my  verses,  and  the  gentleman  thought  he  could 
repeat  my  "  Hunted  Doe."  Tears  started  into  his  eyes 
when  he  read  Edmund  Burke's  last  letter  to  me.  His 
wife  was  daughter  to  Thomas  Burke,  my  grandfather's 
pupil  lately  deceased,  and  a  burst  of  fihal  sorrow  over- 
powered her  when  she  read  her  father's  name  in  the 
school  list. 

Sarah  Medlicott  removed  to  reside  at  Fuller' s-court, 
and  I  rejoiced  to  see  the  abode  of  my  infancy  assume 
a  more  elegant  appearance  than  ever  it  had  done  before. 
My  aunt  Fuller's  flower-garden  was  annexed  to  Sarah 
Medlicott' s  house,  and  I  passed  through  the  glass  sash- 
door  once  more.  It  was  a  long  time  smce  I  had  reviewed 
these  beloved  scenes  of  my  infancy,  longer  known  to 
me  than  any  other  place,  and  compared  with  which  the 
other  end  of  the  village  seems  modern.  I  wandered 
about  the  garden  late  on  a  soft  summer's  evening,  recog- 
nising many  an  object,  and  wliile  I  looked  towards  the 
place  of  the  yew-bowers,  where  the  quicken,  mingling 
its  red  berries  with  the  green  of  other  trees,  had  often 
attracted  our  attention  from  the  sash-door  of  my  aunt's 
parlour,  I  felt  indescribable  sensations,  wliich  I  could 
only  express  by  tears.  My  fondness  for  "  the  days  of 
other  times "  atforded  some  amusement  to  those  who 
could  not  as  yet  understand  it. 

Another  friendship  it  was  my  favoured  lot  to  form 
at  about  this  time.  Pleasant  to  my  heart  is  the 
recollection,  though  mingled  with  a  deep  sadness,  like 
the  songs  of  Ossian !  A  young  Scotchman,  named 
John  Christy,  took  the  farm  of  Irishtown  within  three 


302  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE,  [1803. 

miles  of  Ballitore.  It  soon  assumed  a  different  aspect, 
the  verdure  of  its  fields  displaying  the  superior  cultiva- 
tion bestowed  on  it.  The  new  methods  of  husbandry 
which  this  young  man  introduced  were  of  great  benefit 
to  other  farmers;  while  his  worth  and  talents,  though 
accompanied  by  much  diffidence,  rendered  him  a  very 
agreeable  neighbour.  There  came  on  a  visit  to  him  his 
friend  and  countryman,  William  Eamage,  a  lieutenant 
in  the  navy.  His  countenance  was  striking,  for,  with 
its  manly  beauty,  good  sense,  and  vivacity,  was  com- 
bined such  an  expression  of  goodness  of  heart  as  made 
one  love  to  look  upon  him ;  liis  manners  and  conversa- 
tion were  in  unison  with  his  person ;  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  scholar  and  the  politeness  of  the  gentleman 
were  mingled  with  the  frankness,  ingenuousness,  and 
simphcity  of  the  sailor. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  little  singular  that  a  handsome  and 
lively  young  man  should,  without  any  breach  of  good- 
breeding,  retire  from  a  party  of  fine  young  gii'ls,  on  an 
excursion  to  the  waterfall  of  Poula-Phouca,  and  silently 
seat  himself  before  the  waterfall  to  sketch  the  scene.  I 
will  do  the  young  girls  the  justice  to  add,  that  so  far 
from  being  mortified  at  the  handsome  stranger  treating 
them  as  he  would  treat  their  mothers,  they  respected 
and  admired  him  the  more  for  being  so  completely 
devoid  of  male  coquetry ;  nor  would  their  respect  and 
admiration  have  been  diminished  had  they  known  that 
the  real  state  of  his  heart  would  have  precluded  the 
possibility  of  a  successful  attack  upon  it. 

We  saw  but  little  of  him,  though  he  spent  some 


1803.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  303 

months  with  his  friend,  rendering  him  every  assistance 
in  his  power  in  his  new  undertaking,  and  cheering  his 
solitude  with  liis  society.  He  also  ornamented  the 
parlour  at  Irishtown  by  painting  a  border  of  roses 
round  the  ceiling  instead  of  a  cornice.  The  voice  of 
war  called  him  from  this  retreat;  he  went  on  board 
the  "Hibernia,"  which  was  then  lying  at  Cove  and 
was  commanded  by  Lord  Gardiner,  and  left  his  friend 
much  afflicted  at  the  parting — a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land.  However,  he  shortly  expected  his  sister  to  visit 
him,  and  in  the  following  year  the  report  of  her  coming 
caused  a  stir  amongst  us. 

A  flood  made  us  prisoners  in  our  upper  rooms,  while 
our  nephew  Garret  Leadbeater  administered  amply  to 
our  necessities  by  bringing  provisions  from  the  inn, 
which  he  handed  to  us  from  horseback,  and,  presenting 
us  with  a  branch,  reminded  us  of  jS^oah's  dove. 

This  spring  a  novel  sight  was  exhibited  here.  On 
the  hill  to  the  east  was  a  horse-race,  tents  were  erected, 
and  a  great  number  of  spectators  assembled.  The  races 
held  for  a  week.  Several  years  ago  an  attempt  to 
introduce  cock-fights  was  made,  and  a  cock-pit  was 
built  on  old  0' Haras  premises.  These  cruel  sports 
were  witnessed  by  many  who  esteemed  themselves  of 
the  better  class ;  but  the  circumstance  that  a  stranger 
who  attended  them  died  of  fever,  and  that  a  carpenter 
who  was  employed  in  connection  with  them  died  in 
consequence  of  a  broken  leg  which  he  got  in  the  work, 
put  a  stop  to  this  business  more  completely  than  all 
the  remonstrances  of  the  sober  neighbours  had  been 


304  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1803. 

able  to  do.  Thus  superstition  effected  what  humanity 
was  unable  to  do;  and  as  "ill-luck"  had  stamped  the 
amusement,  the  cock-pit  was  appropriated  to  a  different 
purpose.  Similar  circumstances  prevented  a  repetition 
of  the  horse-race. 

For  many  years  past  my  brother  had  entertained 
strong  objections  to  the  study  of  those  authors  which 
treat  in  seducing  language  of  the  illusions  of  love  and 
the  trade  of  war  ;  and  he  published  an  advertisement 
declining  to  include  such  works  in  his  course  of  edu- 
cation ;  thus  rehnquishing  the  credit  and  profit  of  pre- 
paring lads  for  college.  During  the  year  of  the  rebel- 
lion the  school  was  further  reduced,  many  of  his  pupils 
being  taken  home  by  their  parents  on  accoimt  of  the 
disturbed  state  of  the  times  ;  and  in  180T,  declining  to 
receive  any  more  pupils,  though  many  were  still  pressed 
upon  him,  he  removed  to  reside  at  the  Mill  and  super- 
intend the  business  there,  leaving  part  of  his  family  at 
the  old  mansion.  In  the  present  year  the  school  was 
closed,  to  my  great  regret. 

My  brother's  family  removed  to  Griesebank,  and  the 
school -house  was  set  to  Sarah  Medlicott ;  but  though  I 
esteemed  her  and  her  family,  I  never  could  enjoy  their 
company  in  that  house  with  the  rehsh  I  did  in  any 
other,  for  I  had  been  enthusiastically  attached  to  the 
school.  It  had  been  our  honourable  means  of  liveli- 
hood, my  earliest  ideas  were  blended  with  it,  and 
almost  every  recollection  of  my  childhood  was  con- 
nected with  what  belonged  to  it.  I  had  not  imagined 
I  should   outlive  the  school,  and  when  I  visited  the 


1804.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  305 

present  amiable  possessors  of  the  dwelling,  and  waited 
till  the  "  once  ever-open  door  "  was  opened  to  me,  I 
looked  up  at  the  stars,  and  said  to  myself  "  These  are 
"  the  stars  which  I  have  looked  upon  with  the  merry 
"  group  who  sported  in  this  court;"  and  the  hope 
sprang  up  that  perhaps  I  should  again  see  them  shine 
on  such  another  group. 

My  dear  mother  departed  this  life  the  23rd  of  Third- 
month,  1804.  Our  beloved  and  venerable  parent 
glided  from  us  by  degrees  almost  imperceptible.  She 
was  reduced  to  a  state  of  helpless  infancy.  Still  the 
serenity  of  innocence  gilded  her  setting  day,  and  surely 
we  ought  to  rejoice  that  her  pure  spirit  was  released 
without  seeming  to  experience  the  pangs  of  death ! 
But  my  sister  Sally,  whose  constant  care  she  had  been 
for  three  years,  mourned  long  and  deeply,  and  sobs 
from  the  old  servants  interrupted  the  silence  at  her 
grave. 

Agnes  Christy  came  to  her  brother's  dwelHng  with- 
out letting  him  know  that  she  had  landed  in  Ireland, 
lest  he  should  leave  his  harvest  to  escort  her.  She 
came  by  the  canal,  and  met  a  group  of  Quaker  females 
in  the  boat,  whose  enjoyment  of  one  another's  society 
she  contrasted  with  her  own  loneliness.  They  were 
struck  with  her  countenance  and  accent  and  solicited 
her  acquaintance,  while  she  was  as  much  pleased  with 
their  kind  attention  to  her,  which  gave  her  a  favourable 
impression  of  our  land.  Several  of  my  friends  went  to 
pay  their  respects  to  the  stranger.  I  was  not  amongst 
these  early  visitors,  knowing  myself  to  be  ill-qualified 


306  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE,  [1804. 

to  press  forward  to  the  notice  of  a  fine  young  woman 
who  might  chance  to  be  a  fine  lady  also. 

The  visitors  represented  her  to  be  perfectly  easy  and 
unafi'ected  in  her  manners ;  and  they  judged  from  the 
elegance  of  her  carriage  that  she  must  have  moved  in 
pohshed  society.  This  intimidated  me  still  more, 
while  she,  as  she  afterwards  told  me,  wished  to  know 
me  and  wondered  I  was  not  amongst  those  who  called 
upon  her.  At  length  I  met  this  "foreign  wonder," 
and  fell  in  love  at  first  sight  with  my  bonnie  lassie 
Agnes  Christy.  She  was  tall  and  graceful,  her  counte- 
nance remarkably  ingenuous  and  sweet,  with  fine  dark 
hair,  deep  blue  eyes,  and  beautiful  teeth.  She  soon 
came  to  see  me,  and  we  talked  of  Ossian  and  Burns  ; 
at  every  interview  our  souls  flowed  forth  more  and 
more  to  each  other,  till  at  length  they  mingled  in  a 
united  stream. 

Mysterious  are  His  ways,  whose  power 
Brings  forth  that  unexpected  hour, 
When  souls  that  never  met  before 
Shall  meet,  unite,  and  part  no  more ! 

It  was  singular  that  she  should  choose  me  for  her 
friend  in  preference  to  those  more  her  equals  in  age. 
She  was  the  only  daughter  of  aged  parents,  and  her 
younger  brother  had  gone  to  India  as  a  physician. 
They  were  now  without  a  child  at  home,  having  re- 
signed their  Agnes  for  her  brother  John's  advantage, 
for  she  excelled  in  domestic  management  as  well  as  in 
more  elegant  acquirements. 

Her  understanding  was  soHd  and  her  taste  judicious, 


1804.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  307 

her  delicacy  unaffected  and  lier  humility  exemplary. 
There  was  unstudied  elegance  and  simplicity  in  her 
manners  and  conversation,  Mdiich  were  very  engaging, 
and  her  talents  had  been  cultivated  by  a  liberal  educa- 
tion. Her  heart  was  feelingly  alive  to  distress,  and 
numerous  were  her  secret  acts  of  benevolence.  A  most 
affectionate  daughter  and  sister,  her  mind  was  divided 
between  her  duties,  and  she  doubted  the  propriety  of 
sometimes  enjoying  herself  with  us,  believing  she  ought 
not  to  desert  her  post  with  her  brother  except  to  return 
to  her  dear  infirm  mother.  Her  company  was  much 
sought  after,  and  her  graces  attracted  admirers;  but 
she  quietly  kept  them  at  a  distance,  and  the  artless 
gravity  of  her  deportment  in  mixed  companies  caused 
her  often  to  be  compared  to  a  married  woman.  I 
believe  she  sought  to  know  what  was  right  for  her  to 
do,  and  to  adhere  to  it,  and  that  she  found  this  the  safe 
guide  through  many  perplexities. 

Dolly  Finn,  for  so  she  was  still  called,  was  most 
seasonably  assisted  by  a  donation  of  ten  pounds,  sent  to 
me  for  her  by  Frances  Smith,  the  lady  of  William 
Smith,  M.  P.  for  JSTorwich,  whose  exertions  for  the  abo- 
lition of  the  slave  trade  and  the  emancipation  of  the 
Eoman  Catholics  will  be  long  remembered.  Thomas 
Wilkinson's  acquaintance  with  this  Avorthy  couple  had 
introduced  my  "  Kuined  Cottage  "  to  them,  and  poor 
Dora's  sufferings  touched  their  feeling  hearts.  This 
donation  was  to  assist  in  clothing  and  educating  her 
children;  it  was  sent  annually  for  several  years,  and 
was  of  essential  service;   it  co-operated  with  wliile  it 


308  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [iSoj- 

encouraged  the  exertions  of  the  poor  widow  for  the 
support  of  her  young  family. 

The  Bishop  of  Meath,  his  wife,  and  daughter  were 
again  at  Ballitore  inn.  They  called  on  me  at  the  village, 
were  very  kind  and  pohte,  and  I  felt  much  gratified  by 
their  company  and  conversation,  especially  as  Edmund 
Burke  was  the  principal  subject  of  the  discourse.  The 
bishop  told  me  that  he  was  shocked  when  he  first  saw 
him  after  the  death  of  his  son,  there  was  such  a  shrink- 
ing and  relaxation  in  his  fine  manly  frame;  and  he 
supposed  his  heart  was  broken  by  that  and  by  other 
troubles  of  a  more  public  nature.  The  son,  though  a 
man  of  talent,  was  much  inferior  to  his  father,  yet 
that  great  man  scarcely  did  any  thing  in  his  private 
or  public  business  without  consulting  his  son,  and  this 
I  look  upon  as  one  among  the  many  proofs  of  the 
humility  which  adorned  him.  The  bishoj)'s  daughter, 
a  pleasing  young  girl,  had  been  born  in  the  castle 
in  which  the  poet  Chaucer  had  lived,  and  was  thence 
called  by  Edmund  Burke  "  The  fair  maid  of  Don- 
nington." 

The  summer  of  1 805  I  began  my  experiment  of  pre- 
serving bees  by  keeping  them  in  a  wooden  house,  in 
hives  with  flat  wooden  tops,  in  which  apertures  are 
made ;  through  these  the  bees  ascend  into  glasses, 
which  when  they  are  filled  are  taken  away,  and  re- 
placed by  empty  ones.  With  great  dehght  to  myself 
and  my  surrounding  friends  I  placed  the  first  hive  in 
its  new  abode. 

Our  dear  Susan  Bewley  now  became  much  worse. 


1805.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.        309 

Inflammation  set  in,  and,  though  suffering  under  ag- 
gravated pains,  she  seized  an  interval  of  comparative 
ease  to  walk  with  her  brother  and  sister  through  their 
gardens  to  their  house,  pleasantly  as  she  was  wont 
when  she  expected  to  return.  But  now  she  had  taken 
a  last  farewell  of  her  sweet  little  home,  and  made  this 
arrangement  to  spare  her  brother  and  sister  unnecessary 
trouble,  and  to  die  with  them.  Her  sister-in-law  Mary 
Bewley  and  my  sister  Sally  got  to  Ballitore  just  in  time 
to  witness  her  unshaken  patience  under  great  bodily 
suffering,  and  the  quiet  close  of  her  virtuous  life.  She 
died  in  the  Ninth-month.  How  did  the  cottage  seem 
to  mourn  its  mistress  !  The  leaves  lay  in  heaps  on  the 
walks;  the  withered  flowers  were  not  cut  down;  the 
windows  were  closed ;  all  was  silent  and  lonely. 


310 


CHAPTER   XI. 

i8o6. 

Marriage  of  James  White  and  Lydia  Shackleton. — Ballitore 
School  re-opened. — Lorenzo  Dow. — John  Pirn  of  London. — 
Michael  Kearney. — Patrick  Eogers. — A  friend  of  the  Burke 
family. — A  widowed  mother. — Happy  lovers. — First  vacation 
in  Ballitore  school. — A  Danish  mound. — More  old  Ballitore 
boys. — The  Le  Fanu  family. — A  heavenly  vision. — A  good 
Samaritan. — Harrington  of  Grangecon. — Mrs.  Trench  visits 
BaUybarney. — The  jubUee. — A  straw-plaiting  school  estab- 
lished.— How  Maria  Edgeworth  did  7iot  visit  Ballitore. — Spread 
of  education. — Spontaneous  combustion. — The  Bonhams  settle 
in  the  village. — Death  of  Lydia  White    __         __     310  to  333 

^IME  went  on,  and  our  good  opinion  of  our  Scottish 
neighbours  continued  to  increase.  John  Christy 
possessed  much  good  sense,  intelhgence,  and  literary 
information,  and  his  fascinating  sister  became  more  and 
more  dear  to  us  as  her  character  unfolded;  especially  to 
me,  to  whom  she  granted  her  confidence,  which  she  did 
not  do  till  our  friendship  was  long  and  firmly  established. 
We  had  occasionally  spoken  of  her  young  countryman, 
the  lieutenant  in  the  navy,  and  I  regarded  him  as  her 
long  known  friend;  but,  when  I  found  that  he  had 
stronger  claims  upon  her  heart,  I  rejoiced  at  the  union 


1807. ]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  3IJ 

of  two  such  kindred  minds,  while  I  lamented  that  un- 
i^itying  war  should  keep  them  separated.  It  was  not 
vanity  which  caused  my  young  friend  to  intrust  me 
with  this  great  secret.  Her  delicacy  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  her  attachment  becoming  a  subject  of  conver- 
sation, for 

Proud  was  her  leal  heart,  and  modest  her  nature. 

Yet,  distant  from  her  own  dear  mother,  her  heart 
wanted  to  repose  its  various  anxieties  upon  a  female 
breast,  and  I  trust  her  choice,  however  deficient  it 
might  be  in  many  respects,  was  not  wanting  in  sincere 
affection. 

This  year,  1806,  was  memorable  by  the  marriage  of 
James  White  to  our  Lydia  Shackleton.  They  were 
married  the  14th  of  the  Ninth-month.  James  became 
tenant  for  the  old  schoolhouse  and  adjoining  land,  and 
my  heart  swelled  with  a  double  satisfaction  on  the 
union  of  my  amiable  and  lovely  niece  with  so  worthy 
and  accomplished  a  person,  and  on  the  prospect  of  the 
re-opening  of  Ballitore  school.  In  1807  I  saw  the 
school  revived — my  wish  was  accomplished.  Strange 
perversity  !  why  was  I  sad  ?  Why  did  the  idea  of 
those  "  to  the  dust  gone  down,"  and  of  the  scenes  for 
ever  passed  away,  (like  the  Jews  who  wept  over  the 
new  Temple,  while  they  recollected  the  old)  rise  like  a 
mist  over  the  present  fair  prospect  ? 

Two  sons  of  Samuel  Haughton  of  Carlow  were  the 
last  boarders  received  by  my  brother  before  he  closed 
his  school ;   and  the  revived  establishment  found  its 


312  THE    ANNALS    OP    BALLITORE.  [1807. 

first  pupil  in  James,  another  of  Ms  sons.  The  school 
opened  on  Lydia  White's  birth-day,  on  which  she  com- 
pleted her  twentieth  year.  I  spent  the  evening  there, 
as  did  my  favourites  Agnes  Christy  and  Betsy  Shackle- 
ton.  Our  neighbourhood  became  more  animated,  and 
the  revival  of  the  school  promised  to  attract  more 
inhabitants  to  it. 

Lorenzo  Dow  from  America  held  a  meeting  in  Balli- 
tore.  Several  meetings  of  Methodists  were  held  here 
at  this  time,  sometimes  in  the  street.  Our  beloved 
Ebenezer  Shackleton  returned  to  his  native  village,  and 
after  some  time  he  and  his  brother  George  became 
their  father's  tenants  for  the  Mill. 

We  received  some  welcome  visitors  this  summer, 
among  whom  was  our  friend  John  Pim  of  London. 
He  took  a  survey  of  Ballitore,  recognising  the  people, 
the  places,  and  even  the  furniture  wliich  he  had  known 
in  his  early  days,  and  delighting  us  with  that  happy 
mixture  of  good  sense  and  simplicity  which  engages  the 
affection  and  mends  the  heart.  He  is  a  minister,  and 
before  he  left  Ireland  this  time  I  heard  him  in  Dublin 
meeting  dehver  a  short,  sweet  testimony,  humble  and 
lively  Hke  his  own  mind. 

Michael  Kearney,  elder  brother  to  the  present  Bishop 
of  Ossory,  stopped  at  the  inn  when  travelling,  and 
walked  to  Griesebank  to  see  my  brother,  who  sent  for 
me  to  partake  of  the  gratification  of  seeing  our  dear 
parents'  early  friend.  I  was  quite  a  child  when  I  had 
last  seen  him  at  my  father's  house,  but  I  remember 
that  he  and  my  mother  were  much  attached  to  him, 


iSo/.]  THE    ANXALS    OF    BALLITORE.  313 

and  spoke  of  him  as  a  man  of  great  wit,  learning,  and 
modesty.  Alas  !  I  felt  surprised  and  sorry  to  see  the 
hand  of  age  upon  him ;  he  must  be  eighty  years  of  age, 
but  the  fine  sense,  the  delicate  flow  of  unoffending  wit, 
and  the  amiable  modesty  of  his  character  continued  to 
charm.  He  lamented  the  change  in  Ballitore,  expressed 
himself  much  pleased  with  my  description,  which  my 
father  had  given  him,  and  spoke  of  old  school-fellows. 
Edmund  Burke,  he  said,  left  school  a  year  after  he 
came  here.  Burke  was  above  him  at  school  and  at 
college,  and  took  kind  notice  of  him,  and  invited  him 
to  spend  some  days  with  him  at  Beaconsfield.  Dick 
Burke,  Edmund's  brother,  was  his  school-fellow,  class- 
fellow,  bed-fellow,  and  friend.  My  father's  portrait 
was  brought  to  him ;  it  was  touching  to  see  him  recog- 
nizing the  features  of  his  buried  friend.  I  think  he 
said  he  had  outlived  all  his  cotemporaries.  I  could 
have  wept  and  embraced  the  good  old  man !  I  did 
neither ;  but  I  indulged  in  pensive  contemplation  of 
life  passing  away,  of  talents  gliding  down  the  stream 
of  time,  and  of  the  devourmg  grave,  which  sooner  or 
later  must  receive  us  all. 

Patrick  Eogers,  an  old  friend  and  former  school-boy, 
visited  Ballitore.  A¥e  had  an  intellectual  feast  recalling 
old  times  and  dear  old  characters,  and  he  told  me  an 
old  secret ;  wliich  was  that  when  Thomas  Wray  came 
to  school — he  was  six  or  seven  and  twenty — he  was 
attached  to  a  young  woman  whose  brother  was  in  the 
army,  that  she  rejected  him,  and  thereupon  Thomas 
came  to  school  at  Ballitore  to  study  such  branches  of 


314  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITOEE.  [1807. 

mathematics  as  would  qualify  him  also  for  the  army. 
I  recollected  our  idea  that  Thomas  Wray  was  in  love, 
and  his  saying  "  Fanny "  was  the  prettiest  name  for 
a  woman.  Thomas  Wray  met  this  brother  at  Naas  for 
the  purpose  of  fighting  a  duel,  but,  instead  of  fighting, 
the  matter  concluded  amicably.  The  lover  returned 
home  to  the  north,  married  his  Fanny,  and  is  father 
of  a  fine  family.  On  meeting  Patrick  Rogers  he 
spoke  rapturously  of  their  beloved  Ballitore,  and  of 
the  suppers  which,  after  a  day  spent  in  fulfilling  their 
diff'erent  duties,  assembled  the  master,  mistress,  their 
children,  the  parlour  boarders,  housekeeper,  and  ushers 
round  the  cheerful  table,  where  wit,  friendship,  and 
freedom  gilded  the  parting  hour.  We  talked  till  we 
could  almost  fancy  ourselves  young  again,  when  Rogers' 
grave  look  dissolved  the  illusion,  while  he  observed 
that  our  happiest  days  were  past ;  but  I  told  him  I 
hoped  not,  and  that  in  our  children  we  shall  live  them 
over  again.  We  look  back  upon  the  pleasant  path  of 
early  life  from  a  distance  which  preserves  the  beautiful 
outline,  while  it  conceals  the  little  irregularities  and 
difficulties  of  the  way  ;  while  perhaps  the  path  in 
which  we  now  walk  may  in  reality  be  preferable  to 
any  we  have  trod  before.  It  is  well  at  all  events  to 
endeavour  to  think  so.  He  told  me  a  singular  circum- 
stance which  took  place  when  he  was  a  boy.  There 
were  found  in  Narraghmore  wood  two  falcons,  with 
little  bells  on  their  necks,  on  which  was  engraved 
"  Buccleugh."  Squire  Keatinge  sent  them  back  to 
their  ducal  owner  in  Scotland. 


I  So;.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  3  15 

An  elderly  gentlewoman,  by  name  Hamilton,  sent 
down  a  message  from  the  inn  to  request  I  would  go  up 
to  her  that  we  might  talk  together  of  Edmund  Burke, 
with  whom  she  reckoned  herself  w^ell  acquainted. 
When  on  a  visit  to  a  gay  family  in  London,  instead 
of  accompanying  her  hosts  to  places  of  amusement, 
she  preferred  spending  her  evenings  with  the  Burke 
family,  who  did  not  find  these  amusements  necessary 
for  their  comfort  having  in  their  well-furnished  minds 
and  domestic  society  a  fund  of  superior  gratification. 
She  told  me  that  when  William  Burke,  their  distant 
relation  but  near  friend,  returned  from  India,  after  a 
residence  of  some  years,  his  hair  and  complexion  were 
so  changed  that  the  family  of  Edmund  Burke  did  not 
know  him  ;  and  when  he  discovered  himself,  his  friend 
Edmund  fainted  away. 

Poor  Dolly  Finn's  afflictions  had  not  ceased.  A 
young  officer  quartered  here  suffered  himself  to  be 
irritated  by  a  cur  assaultmg  his  dog.  He  shot  the  cur 
and  took  its  owner,  James  Finn,  prisoner,  to  the  great 
terror  of  the  poor  man's  widowed  mother,  who  too  well 
remembered  the  despotism  of  military  power.  That 
power  was,  however,  now  limited,  and  when  the  young 
man  attacked  the  peaceable  Quakers  with  threats  and 
insults  in  consequence  of  their  taking  part  with  the 
oppressed,  he  soon  found  he  had  overshot  his  mark. 
A  complaint  was  preferred  against  liim,  a  court  of 
enquiry  was  held  here  by  superior  officers,  and  the 
young  man  appeared  in  danger  of  losing  his  commis- 
sion,  though  he  humbled  liimself  as  low  as  he  had 


3l6  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [iSo/. 

been  high  before.  Poor  James  Finn  might  exult  in 
the  victory  of  right  over  might,  but  his  day  was  soon 
closed  !  A  young  woman  to  whom  he  was  attached 
took  ill  of  a  fever ;  James  visited  her,  and  spent  several 
hours  beside  her  sick  bed.  She  recovered — but  her 
lover  took  the  disease  and  died.  The  anguish  of  despair 
impressed  the  mother's  countenance ;  trembling  and  pale, 
and  without  the  relief  of  tears,  she  spoke  of  the  filial 
and  fraternal  affection  of  her  son,  just  twenty  years  of 
age,  "  whose  voice  whistling  or  singing  she  must  hear 
no  more  ! "  Her  former  wound  was  opened,  and  she 
mourned  afresh  her  murdered  husband  when  his  son 
was  laid  beside  him. 

Three  summers  my  friend  Agnes  Christy  passed  with 
her  brother ;  she  then  felt  it  to  be  her  duty  to  return 
to  her  parents^  before  another  northern  winter  should 
visit  their  aged  frames.  She  was  to  spend  a  while  with 
me  before  she  left  Ireland,  and  we  intended  to  explore 
together  some  of  the  beauties  of  its  scenery.  This  plan 
was  frustrated,  and  we  could  not  regret  that  it  was  so. 
Her  lover  had  been  presented  by  his  friend,  Lord  St. 
Vincent,  with  a  captain's  commission.  The  generous 
young  man  expressed  his  fear  of  standing  in  the  way 
of  some  of  the  earl's  friends.  "  I  was  desired,'^  said 
the  old  admiral,  "  to  give  it  to  the  most  deserving,  and 
I  give  it  to  you."  Before  the  new-made  captain  had 
been  appointed  to  his  ship,  a  change  of  ministry  took 
place,  and  Lord  St.  Vincent  resigned.  The  lover  was 
then  at  liberty  to  hasten  to  his  mistress,  and  he  lost 
no  time  in  doing  so. 


1807.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  317 

She  was  at  her  house  when  a  messenger  from  her 
brother  came  to  tell  of  his  arrival.  I  partook  of  her 
secret  agitations — known  only  to  myself;  and  when 
she  let  her  veil  fall  over  her  face  and  set  out  for  her 
brother's,  I  thought  of  Rebecca  meeting  Isaac.  It  was 
more  than  two  years  since  he  had  seen  her ;  he  then 
got  leave  of  absence,  and  spent  a  few  days  with  her 
and  her  brother.  Her  commands  were  still  laid  upon 
him  to  appear  only  as  her  friend ;  he  strove  to  obey, 
but  his  expressive  countenance  was  often  on  the  point 
of  betraying  him.  With  me  there  needed  no  restraint ; 
and,  seated  between  them,  I  delivered  myself  up  to  the 
satisfaction  of  beholding  their  well-earned  happiness. 

The  open-hearted  sailor  delighted  to  tell  me  of  the 
beginning  of  his  love.  He  had  early  chosen  a  sea-faring 
life,  and  when  quite  a  boy  had  met  with  extraordinary 
escapes  and  trials.  He  returned  from  a  detention  in 
France  to  witness  the  death  of  his  eldest  sister,  whom 
he  tenderly  loved,  and  who  had  stood  in  the  place  of 
his  long-lost  mother.  He  first  saw  Agnes  when  she 
was  thirteen,  while  he  was  three  years  older.  He  could  ■ 
point  out  the  spot  in  which  she  stood,  while  the  un- 
conscious girl,  trying  on  a  new  beaver  hat,  looked  round 
on  the  company  for  approbation,  and,  glancing  her  in- 
nocent eyes  on  him,  took  him  captive. 

TMs  sacred  love,  deep-rooted,  from  his  soul 
No  danger  tore  ! 

He  indulged  himself  in  seeking  her  company  at  her 
father's  house  ;  but  great  were  his  disappointment  and 


3l8  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^So?- 

dismay,  wlien,  after  having  spent  five  days  in  writing  a 
love-letter,  it  was  rejected  with  modest  dignity,  which, 
adding  respect  to  love,  more  :^rmly  riveted  his  chains. 
He  had  not,  however,  lost  the  title  of  friend,  and  her 
presence  solaced  him  on  his  return  from  his  various 
voyages. 

So  time  passed  on,  he  still  cherishing  his  ardent 
passion,  when  every  fond  hope  was  destroyed  by  hear- 
ing that  Agnes  was  about  to  be  married ;  and  he  heard 
it  in  such  a  manner  that  he  had  no  doubt  of  its  truth. 
In  the  vehemence  of  his  disappointment  he  left  his 
peaceable  occupation  in  a  merchant  ship,  and  went  on 
board  a  man-of-war,  too  often  rashly  exposing  a  life 
wliich  he  did  not  value,  and  for  years  not  daring  to 
enquire  aught  of  his  lost  love. 

At  length  he  heard  by  accident  that  she  was  still 
unmarried ;  hope  animated  his  exertions ;  he  soon  rose 
to  the  rank  of  lieutenant ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then, 
he  renewed  his  suit  with  all  the  timidity  of  love,  but 
she  forbade  his  writing  in  any  tenderer  strain  than  that 
of  friendship.  They  met  in  London  after  several  years' 
separation,  and  were  mutually  struck  with  the  improve- 
ment those  years  had  made  in  each  other.  The  young 
sailor  wished  to  declare  "  viva  voce"  the  sentiments  he 
entertained  for  her ;  but  when  opportunity  offered,  the 
delicacy  of  true  affection  took  away  the  power  of  ex- 
pression. He  was  not,  however,  always  unable  to  plead 
his  cause,  nor  did  he  plead  in  vain.  Circumstances 
intervened  to  prevent  a  speedy  union,  and  Agnes  suffer- 
ed not  the  gentle  firmness  of  her  mind  to  yield  to  the 


iSo;.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  319 

the  solicitations  of  lier  lover,  who  sorely  murmured  at 
the  delay. 

The  obstacles  being  now  removed  or  fast  removing* 
their  sun  beamed  more  brightly,  emerging  from  the 
clouds;  and,  as  if  to  add  a  brighter  ray,  Agnes's 
mother  arrived  unexpectedly  at  Irishtown.  Now  did 
my  friend  seem  to  enjoy  a  full  cup  of  happiness,  and 
her  countenance  was  irradiated  by  the  joy  of  her  heart. 
Soon  the  mother,  daughter,  and  lover  returned  to  Scot- 
land. In  the  following  spring  they  were  married;  and 
never  again  did  I  behold  this  dear  friend. 

After  this  parting,  I  spent  six  weeks  in  Dublin,  get- 
ting a  volume  of  my  verses  printed.  It  was  the  longest 
separation  I  ever  had  from  my  husband  and  children; 
and,  though  my  friends  were  exceeding  kind,  I  longed 
to  return  to  my  own  sphere  again.  I  had,  however,  the 
great  pleasure  of  seeing  my  friend  Melesina  Trench. 
She  and  her  husband  had,  by  repeated  solicitations, 
obtained  their  liberty.  Their  passage  from  Eotterdam 
to  England  was  in  stormy  weather  and  very  dangerous, 
but  they  rejoiced  to  tread  once  more  a  land  of  liberty. 

The  school  increased  rapidly,  and  Ballitore  got  its 
old  look  again ;  the  boys'  gardens,  long  neglected,  en- 
compassmg  the  back  court,  displayed  taste  and  industry 
once  more:  the  ball  bounded  in  the  ball-alley,  the 
marbles  rolled,  and  the  tops  spun.  Eight  of  the  bigger 
boys  joined  for  a  while  in  the  compilation  of  a  manu- 
script newspaper  :  a  taste  for  poetry  occasionally  ap- 
peared ;  and  I  felt  that  schoolboys  were  in  all  ages  the 
same  kind  of  beings. 


320  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1808. 

A  vacation  of  one  montli  was  given  this  summer, 
the  first  ever  given  in  Ballitore  school ;  we  were  lonely 
without  the  boys,  and  without  their  master  and  mis- 
tress, who  took  that  opportunity  to  visit  their  friends 
in  Cork.  The  popularity  of  the  Belfast  Magazine  so 
wrought  upon  the  active  minds  of  some  of  our  young 
people,  as  to  induce  them  to  compile  a  manuscript 
magazine  every  month,  to  which  most  of  the  young 
and  occasionally  some  of  the  old  contributed,  and  seve- 
ral extracts  were  made  from  this  compilation  for  the 
Belfast  Magazine. 

On  the  top  of  Max's  Hill  to  the  east  of  Ballitore  was 
discovered,  under  a  flag  of  immense  size,  a  little  sepul- 
chre enclosed  by  flags,  and  containing  a  skeleton ;  it 
was  not  long  enough  to  admit  the  body  to  lie  at  full 
length.  On  examining  the  bones.  Dr.  Bell  believed 
that  they  were  those  of  a  youth,  and  that  this  was  one 
of  the  burial  places  of  Danish  kings. 

I  was  commissioned  by  Melesina  Trench  wdth  the 
distribution  of  premiums  to  her  poor  tenantry  in  Bally- 
barney,  to  encourage  the  cultivation  of  their  gardens. 
The  premiums  were — one  guinea  and  a  half  to  the  best, 
one  guinea  to  the  second,  and  half  a  guinea  to  the  third. 
My  husband  and  John  Christy  were  the  judges.  While 
they  pursued  their  examination,  I  had  a  very  agreeable 
companion  in  paying  my  visits  to  the  cottages,  for 
Philip  Stacpole,  an  old  pupil,  had  accompanied  us 
from  Ballitore.  I  had  not  seen  him  since  he  left  school 
in  1777*  The  pretty  slim  youth  was  lost  in  the  portly 
man,  but  his  smile  and  the  sweet  expression  of  his  eyes 


l8o8.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  221 

were  preserved.  His  recollections  of  Ballitore  and  his 
relations  of  past  events  were  liiglily  interesting. 

I  received  tliis  summer  another  very  agi'eeable  sur- 
prise. I  did  not  recognize  the  large  man  for  whom  I 
opened  our  hall- door  till  he  told  his  name,  nor  did  he 
recollect  me  till  I  smiled.  It  was  Eobert  Baxter,  and 
right  glad  were  we  to  meet  again.  He  and  his  wife 
stayed  with  us  part  of  two  days.  He  spent  some  hours 
reading  the  first  volume  of  my  "Annals''  to  his  wife. 
Eobert  appeared  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time,  while 
he  retraced  the  characters  and  circumstances  which  had 
so  interested  him  in  that  year  which  he  called  the 
happiest  of  his  Hfe;  and  sometimes  he  laughed  and 
sometimes  he  cried  over  them.  His  manner  preserved 
that  ingenuousness  and  simplicity  which  marked  his 
youthful  character,  while  an  extensive  knowledge  of  the 
world  is  added  to  his  good  sense  and  literary  acquire- 
ments. His  wife  is  an  amiable,  sensible  woman;  and 
I  believe  they  both  wish  to  leave  the  bustling  mihtary 
scene  and  settle  down  in  domestic  comfort.  Their  emo- 
tion at  parting  deprived  them  of  the  power  of  bidding 
us  farewell. 

In  the  summer  of  1808  a  family  came  to  reside  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Ballitore,  and  we  frequently  saw 
them  driving  through  the  village.  The  father,  though 
advanced  in  years,  was  active  and  animated.  He  was 
exceedingly  attentive  to  his  three  young  daughters, 
whose  characters  might  be  guessed  at  by  the  apparently 
trifling  circumstance  of  dress.  Theirs  was  plain  and 
simple,  bnt  elegant  and  genteel,  bespeaking  the  culti- 


322  THE   ANNALS   OF  BALLITORE,  [1808. 

vated  mind.  Their  countenances  and  manners  attracted 
me,  and  I  longed  for  a  nearer  acquaintance ;  but  as 
their  line  of  life  appeared  to  run  differently  from  mine, 
I  feared  lest  urging  it  might  be  deemed  an  intrusion. 

Their  father  was  Peter  Le  Fanu,  the  rector  of  Dun- 
lavin,  a  man  very  eminent  in  his  clerical  character. 
Mary  and  Anne  Doyle  were  frequent  in  their  praises  of 
this  family,  whose  purchases  at  their  shop  were  in 
general  clothes  for  the  poor,  and  whose  humanity  and 
affability  engaged  the  admiration  of  these  penetrating 
observers.  But  they  were  particularly  interested  by 
the  clergyman's  nephew,  William  P.  Le  Panu,  whose 
medical  skill  and  benevolence  began  to  be  much  spoken 
of  in  the  neighbourhood. 

I  was  reading  one  day  the  quarto  edition  of  Marmion, 
then  just  published,  which  had  been  sent  to  me  by  the 
Bishop  of  Meath,  when  W.  P.  Le  Fanu  rode  up  to  the 
parlour  window  where  I  was  sitting,  and,  after  apolo- 
gizing for  troubling  me  about  a  poor  sick  neighbour,  to 
whom  I  had  administered,  and  who  had  referred  him 
to  me,  he  entered  into  a  disquisition  on  the  merits  of 
the  poem.  One  needed  not  to  hear  him  long  to  be  con- 
vinced of  the  superiority  of  his  genius,  taste,  and  judg- 
ment, nor  to  look  long  in  his  face  without  feeling  his 
unaffected  politeness  and  good  breeding.  I  was  encou- 
raged by  his  character  and  by  his  mission  to  me,  and 
also  by  having  heard  of  his  skill  in  diseases  of  the  eye, 
to  ask  his  advice  for  a  poor  neighbour ;  and  this  gave 
me  an  opportunity  of  remarking  his  tenderness  and 
good-nature,  of  which  I  soon  had  a  still  more  convincing 


l8o8.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORB.  32-3 

proof,  when  I  myself  had  the  benefit  of  his  skill  and 
kindness. 

I  was  taken  ill  with  a  feverish  attack,  which  I  fan- 
cied that  I  and  my  female  coadjutors  were  able  to 
manage,  and,  after  a  struggle  of  three  or  four  days,  I 
believed  myself  well  enough  to  receive  company  in  my 
chamber.  Of  one  of  my  visitors  I  inquired  concerning 
this  family,  whose  recent  appearance  had  excited  the 
curiosity  of  the  neighbourhood.  I  was  informed  that 
the  clergyman's  father  was  a  native  of  France,  a  man  of 
high  respectability,  who  had  become  a  banker  in  Dub- 
lin on  his  emigration.  The  nephew  had  been  educated 
for  the  bar ;  but,  being  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune, 
had  renounced  the  law,  and  applied  himself  to  the 
study  of  medicine,  solely  for  benevolent  purposes. 

When  I  retired  to  rest  that  evening,  I  could  find 
none;  my  fever  had  returned  with  added  force,  and 
my  imagination  was  harassed  with  confused  ideas  of 
this  family,  while  I  tossed  from  side  to  side,  in  vain 
endeavouring  to  think  of  something  else.  At  length 
the  approach  of  morning  brought  a  refreshing  slumber, 
and  in  my  dreams  I  saw  my  dear  Sam  Eyre,  of  whom 
I  had  dreamt  but  once  before  since  his  death.  He 
appeared  to  be  about  the  age  at  which  he  had  died, 
twenty-two,  his  figure  smgularly  elegant,  and  the 
beauty  of  his  countenance  mingled  with  an  expression 
wliicli  inspired  a  sentiment  amounting  to  awe.  He  was 
clothed  down  to  his  feet  in  a  robe  of  Hnen  exquisitely 
white  and  fine,  over  which  he  wore  a  dark  dress  with- 
out sleeves.     I  thought  it  might  be  a  dress  peculiar  to 


324  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1808. 

India.  We  conversed,  and  he  left  me  with  a  promise 
to  return.  I  awoke,  and  felt  as  if  I  had  been  in  com- 
pany with  an  angel.  My  mind  dwelt  upon  the  vision, 
and  I  queried  could  our  spirits,  attached  as  they  had 
been  by  the  bond  of  infantile  friendsliip,  still  hold 
communion  with  each  other  ?  Or  did  it  foretell  a  more 
mature  bond  of  friendship  to  bind  me  to  another  pure 
and  elevated  mind  1 

Ja^o  doctor  had  resided  in  the  village  since  the  mur- 
der of  our  poor  friend  Doctor  Johnson;  but  my  new 
acquaintance,  the  student  of  law  and  medicine,  heard 
of  my  illness,  and  came  to  visit  me.  He  prescribed  for 
me,  and  his  judicious  care  arrested  the  progress  of  the 
fever,  and  I  believe  w^as,  under  Providence,  the  means 
of  preserving  me  from  a  serious  illness.  Our  friend- 
ship, thus  founded  on  benevolence  and  gratitude,  rapidly 
increased,  and  a  close  intimacy  with  all  the  family  was 
the  consequence.  By  the  advice,  encouragement,  and 
assistance  of  this  valuable  friend,  I  was  induced  again 
to  venture  forth  as  an  author,  and  to  publish  my  "Anec- 
dotes from  real  life  for  Children." 

When  the  family  returned  to  Dublin  for  the  winter, 
we  corresponded  by  letter.  At  the  commencement  of 
this  correspondence,  he  thus  marked  the  ground  on 
which  we  were  to  proceed  : — "  Candour,  plainness,  sim- 
"  plicity,  and  open  dealing  are  the  bullion  that  has  a 
"universal  and  everlasting  value.  Politeness  may 
"  stamp  it  into  medals,  and  worldly-mindedness  alloy 
''it  into  the  base  metal  which  passes  current  in  the 
"world;  but  there  is  a  superior  coin  into  which  honest 


I  Sop.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  325 

"  minds  convert  it,  and  wliicli  honest  minds  alone 
"  should  receive  and  pay."  He  left  his  patients  in  my 
care ;  and  his  letters  generally  began  with  minute 
enquiries  and  directions  concerning  them,  and  then 
expanded  into  sentiments  of  religion,  morality,  litera- 
ture, and  taste. 

In  summer  the  Le  Fanu  family  returned  to  the  rec- 
tory. The  reverend  gentleman  possessed  a  vivacity 
which  bespoke  his  French  extraction,  united  to  great 
good  sense  and  benevolence  ;  and  he  was  a  truly  plea- 
sant companion.  Having  lost  liis  wife  some  years 
before,  he  superintended  the  education  of  his  daughters 
himself,  and  his  attentive  care  was  repaid  by  their 
talents  and  virtues.  The  eldest  daughter  was  a  good 
classical  scholar ;  her  sisters  also  were  highly  accom- 
plished, and  sketched  with  much  taste.  They  volunta- 
rily furnished  me  with  designs,  from  which  engravings 
were  made  for  my  little  book.  Their  simplicity,  mo- 
desty, and  graceful  ingenuousness  softened  the  lustre  of 
their  cultivated  talents  ;  and  the  sincere  desire  of  their 
hearts  was  to  be  good  themselves  and  to  do  good  to 
others.  Their  only  brother  Avas  at  school,  and  we  saw 
little  of  him.  They  had  a  cousin-german  on  a  visit 
with  them,  a  hvely  and  most  engaging  girl,  half-sister 
to  my  friend.  She  was  niece  to  Richard  Brinsley 
Sheridan.  Another  of  their  visitors  was  Everina  Woll- 
stonecraft,  sister  to  the  famous  Mary,  herself  a  woman 
of  talent,  and  very  pleasant  in  conversation. 

The  medical  skill  of  my  friend  William  Le  Fanu 
attracted  such  crowds,  that  I  was  told  by  one  of  his 


326  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1809. 

rustic  patients  that  "  the  biggest  market  that  was  ever 
"  seen  in  Ballitore  was  not  to  be  compared  to  it ;"  that 
"  a  fair  could  not  be  missed  out  of  it."  I  have  seen  him 
pale,  languid,  and  exhausted  after  a  levee  of  patients, 
who  succeeded  each  other  for  several  hours  ;  but  he 
would  not  comjDlain  of  fatigue,  declaring  that  it  was  the 
lieat  of  the  weather  that  oppressed  him.  We  were  very 
desirous  of  his  company ;  but  on  those  three  days, 
appointed  for  charity  in  every  week,  this  luxury  was 
denied  us.  The  voice  of  pain,  sickness,  and  distress 
had  chief  power  to  allure  him,  though  he  was  qualified 
beyond  most  others  to  give  and  receive  the  pleasures  of 
social  intercourse.  His  conversation,  flowing  from  the 
springs  of  unafiected  piety,  solid  sense,  and  refined  taste, 
often  sported  in  that  playfulness  which  belongs  to  a 
pure  conscience  and  an  innocent  heart ;  and  the  longer 
we  knew  liim  the  more  we  prized  his  friendship. 

He  had  a  charity  school  opened  at  Dunlavin,  which 
rapidly  flourished  under  the  superintendence  of  this 
worthy  family.  He  stirred  us  up  to  a  like  charity 
here  ;  for  his  constant  aim  was  to  do  good.  It  was  a 
great  trial  to  us  when  Peter  Le  Fanu  and  his  charming 
family  left  our  neighbourhood,  on  his  obtaining  the 
parish  of  Saint  Bride  in  Dublin.  Sorely  we  missed 
them  ;  and  even  the  delightful  letters  of  my  friend 
William  could  not  console  me  for  the  loss  of  his  society. 
Encouraged  by  him,  I  was  tempted  to  publish  my 
Cottage  Dialogues.  He  approved  of  their  tendency, 
and  was  most  anxious  that  all  should  exert  their  talents 
in  whatever  way   was   best   adapted   to   advance   the 


l8ro.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  327 

improvement  of  the  Irish  character,  and  increase  the 
comforts  of  our  poor  people. 

The  beginning  of  this  summer  was  hot  and  dry ;  and 
as  usual  the  Irish  farmer  repined  for  the  want  of  rain, 
which  came  abundantly  when  the  harvest  should  be  got 
in.     The  wheat  suffered  from  mildew  and  from  a  small 

fly- 

Henry  Harrington,  professedly  a  man  of  taste,  built 
at  Grangecon  a  fine  picture-gallery,  one  hundred  feet 
in  length,  which  he  filled  with  paintings.  I  believe  he 
had  enough,  not  hung,  to  furnish  another.  The  beauti- 
ful situation  of  liis  dwelling,  and  his  well-planted 
grounds,  with  the  triumphs  of  art  to  which  they  led, 
made  it  a  very  desirable  entertainment  for  strangers 
who  were  introduced  there. 

The  cottagers  of  Ballybarney  were  favoured  this 
autumn  with  a  sight  of  their  beloved  lady,  which  dif- 
fused universal  joy  amongst  them.  In  addition  to  the 
premiums  for  gardens,  she  had  ordered  a  guinea  to  be 
given  to  the  mistress  of  the  cleanest  house.  She  took 
me  with  her  to  Ballybarney,  and  her  kindness  in  cross- 
ing a  difficult  stile,  to  please  one  of  her  tenants  by  look- 
ing at  his  garden,  spoke  more  to  the  heart  than  the  finest 
turned  speech  of  the  most  refined  sentimentalist  could 
have  done.  She  and  her  husband  were  not  a  little 
pleased  with  the  improvement  in  the  appearance  of 
their  village ;  their  parental  attentions  continued  to 
increase  towards  it,  and  I  had  still  the  pleasure  of  being 
the  agent  of  their  charity. 

The  jubilee  which  celebrated  the  fiftieth  anniversary 


328  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1810. 

of  George  the  Third's  reign  extended  to  Ballitore ; 
loyal  shots  were  fired,  and  a  feu-de-joie  being  formed  of 
a  lighted  furze-bnsh  hung  in  a  willow  which  bends 
over  the  river,  the  reflection  in  the  water  was  very 
beautiful.  The  mail-coach  passing  from  Dublin  was 
brilliantly  adorned  with  illuminations,  which  gratified 
those  spectators  who  lost  a  night's  rest  to  indulge  their 
curiosity.  Young  Bruen  of  Carlow  celebrated  the 
jubilee  by  paying  the  debts  of  those  confined  for  small 
sums  in  the  jail  of  that  town. 

George  Shackleton  returned  to  us  from  Allonby, 
much  pleased  with  the  natural  manners  and  simplicity 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  delighted  with  the  refinement 
added  to  these  in  Thomas  Wilkinson's  conversation. 
It  was  in  the  year  1781  that  Mary  Mellor  introduced 
me  to  the  knowledge  of  Thomas  Wilkinson,  and  on  her 
return  to  Ballitore  brought  me  a  poetical  address  from 
him,  to  which  I  replied  ;  and  from  that  time  our  prose 
correspondence  has  continued,  and  our  friendship  has 
increased  till  it  has  become  firmly  established,  though 
we  have  never  seen  each  other's  face.  Thomas's  genius 
owes  nothing  to  the  cultivation  of  school-learning,  and 
his  compositions  both  in  verse  and  prose  are  full  of 
originality.  He  is  beloved  and  esteemed  in  a  high 
degree  by  many  persons  of  exalted  rank  and  genius, 
and  is  looked  up  to  by  his  neighbours  as  a  man  of 
sound  judgment ;  yet  he  is  not  carried  away  from  the 
foundations  of  humility.  He  is  deeply  interested  in 
the  welfare  of  his  own  religious  society,  in  which  he 
holds  the  station  of  elder. 


l8lO.]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  329 

Betsy  Shackletou,  liaving  learned  to  plait  straw, 
taught  the  art  to  several  poor  children,  and  introduced 
a  little  manufacture.  She  also  assembled  her  plaiters 
twice  a  week,  and  taught  them  reading,  writing,  and 
ciphering,  one  of  her  sisters  or  one  of  our  daughters 
assisting. 

The  Bishop  of  Meath  suggested  for  my  dialogues  of 
the  Irish  peasantry  the  title  of  "  Cottage  Dialogues  ;" 
and  his  family  kindly  introduced  the  manuscript  to 
Eichard  Lovell  Edgeworth  and  his  gifted  daughter, 
who  not  only  approved  of  its  original  tendency,  but 
recommended  it  to  their  own  bookseller  in  London 
as  a  work  of  entertainment  ;  and  Maria  Edgeworth, 
whose  writings  reflect  such  a  lustre  on  her  sex,  her 
country,  and  this  age,  with  generous  warmth  patro- 
nized my  humble  efforts  by  accompanying  them  with  a 
preface  and  notes  to  the  English  edition.  I  had  several 
letters  from  Maria  Edgeworth,  whose  handwriting  (as  if 
she  were  decreed  to  excel  in  everything)  is  exceedingly 
beautiful. 

We  this  year  made  another  valuable  acquaintance,  in 
a  somewhat  amusing  manner.  I  was  sitting  in  meeting 
on  a  week-day,  when  the  door  was  opened  by  one  of  our 
servants,  and  I  was  called  out.  Exceedingly  surprised 
and  somewhat  alarmed,  I  went  out,  and  was  told  that 
a  lady  who  was  on  a  journey  had  called,  and  wished 
particularly  to  see  me.  Our  servant  had  met  my  niece 
Betsy  Shackleton  on  the  way,  and  thus  accosted  her : 
"  Oil,  Miss  Betsy,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I'm  going  to 
"  call  my  mistress  out  of  meetmg,   and  I'm  ashamed 


330  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [181I. 

"  out  of  my  life."  "  Why  is  my  aunt  to  be  called  *?" 
said  Betsy.  "  Oh,  because  Miss  Maria  Edgeworth  is 
"  come,  and  she  wants  the  mistress."  Away  posted 
Betsy,  and  I  found  her  and  my  daughter  Elizabeth 
in  high  chat  with  the  stranger,  who  was  a  woman 
in  the  prime  of  life,  of  a  light,  active  figure.  The 
small-pox  had  made  ravages  on  a  sweet  face,  but  the 
brightness  of  her  blue  eyes,  the  benevolence  of  her 
smile,  and  the  peculiar  vivacity  and  intelhgence  of  her 
countenance  were  beautiful. 

She  informed  us  that  her  name  was  Bonham,  that 
her  husband  had  lately  come  into  possession  of  estates 
near  Ballitore,  and  that  it  was  probable  they  would 
soon  spend  some  time  in  the  neighbourhood.  She 
was  exceedingly  anxious  to  establish  schools  here,  and 
had  called  upon  us  to  enquire  the  probability  of  their 
success.  "We  were  greatly  pleased  with  her,  notwith- 
standing the  mistake  her  first  appearance  had  caused. 
Our  little  daughter  had  been  reading  "  Eosamond, " 
"  The  Cherry  Orchard,"  &c.,  and  her  imagination  was 
so  full  of  the  idea  of  their  author  that  she  imagined 
the  stranger  must  be  Maria  Edgeworth. 

We  did  not  welcome  the  new  year  with  joyous 
hearts,  for  our  fears  too  justly  foreboded  that,  before 
its  close,  we  should  be  deprived  of  our  dear  Lydia 
White,  who  was  the  joy  and  pride  of  her  family.  To 
her  a  tender  and  most  excellent  husband  looked  for  the 
sweet  companion  of  his  journey  through  life,  and  she 
Avas  admirably  fitted  to  train  up  her  child  in  the  way 
in  which  she  should  go ;  her  steady  consideration  for 


lail.J        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  33  I 

the  poor  was  a  blessing  to  tliem,  and  her  frequent 
offices  of  good  neighbourhood  were  gratefully  confided 
in;  she  conscientiously  discharged  her  duty  to  the 
pupils,  and  her  cheerful,  contented,  and  placid  temper 
made  all  her  household  happy.  There  were  some- 
times bright  gleams  which  encouraged  hope  when  a 
new  medicine  appeared  to  abate  the  symptoms,  but 
these  were  succeeded  by  a  darker  sky.  The  sweet 
sufferer  herself  was  for  a  long  time  free  from  appre- 
hension of  her  danger;  she  bore  her  afflictions  wdth 
that  patience  with  which  she  was  remarkably  endowed, 
and  was  often,  as  was  natural  to  her,  innocently  cheer- 
ful and  witty. 

Thomas  Doyle,  the  son  of  Winifred  Boyle,  who  sat 
for  the  portrait  of  "Eose"  in  the  "Cottage  Dialogues," 
had  been  instructed  in  Dublin  in  Joseph  Lancaster's 
method,  and  became  teacher  of  a  daily  school  which 
was  now  opened  in  Ballitore.  The  committee  held  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  up  the  school  was  summoned  by 
John  and  Margaret  Bonham,  now  residing  for  a  short 
time  in  our  village,  who  themselves  subscribed  liberally. 
Margaret  Bonham  proposed  a  separate  school  for  girls, 
and  we  readily  obtained  subscriptions  for  this  purpose. 
A  house  was  taken  adjoining  the  boys'  school,  and  a 
communication  made  between  them,  though  the  en- 
trances were  separate.  The  children  of  farmers  and 
shopkeepers  paid  sixpence  per  week,  of  working  trades- 
men fourjDcnce,  and  of  labourers  twopence,  to  be  paid 
every  Second-day  morning.  Mistress,  monitors,  and 
visitors  were  appointed  ;   both  schools  filled  very  fast ; 


332  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [181I. 

and  Margaret  Bonham  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them 
established  before  she  left  Ballitore. 

Soon  after  these  dear  friends  left  us,  we  were  shocked 
at  hearing  of  an  accident  which  might  have  altogether 
deprived  us  of  them.  They  lodged  in  Frederick-street, 
Dublin  ',  the  owner  of  the  house  kept  a  spirit  ware- 
house adjoining  a  back  parlour  in  wliicli  liis  wife  was 
accustomed  to  sit,  and  where  she  used  to  remain  up 
after  the  family  had  retired  to  rest.  This  time  her 
servant  was  uneasy  at  her  staying  so  long,  and  went 
down  to  see  what  detained  her.  On  entering  the  room 
the  servant  perceived  a  black  figure  seated  in  the  chair. 
She  shrieked  aloud ;  the  family  assembled,  and  found 
the  unfortunate  mistress  of  the  house  still  in  her  chair, 
but  quite  dead,  burnt  to  a  cinder,  and  entirely  black. 
There  was  no  candle  in  the  room  ;  a  coal  was  near  her 
foot ;  but  it  was  thought  she  was  destroyed  by  internal 
fire.  Had  there  been  any  blaze,  the  contiguity  of  the 
spirits  would  in  all  probability  have  caused  a  conflagra- 
tion from  which  none  of  those  in  the  upper  apartments 
could  have  escaped. 

Deep  woe  awaited  us.  This  spring  our  darling  Lydia 
White  died,  in  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  her  age.  But 
He  who  ordained  this  trial  graciously  supported  us 
under  it.  There  is  no  other  support.  Vain  is  the  help 
of  man  ;  and  that  we  have  a  sure  Comforter  in  the  day 
of  trouble  must  not  be  forgotten  when  our  prospects 
are  fair;  else  how  can  we  look  up  with  confidence? 
Our  sweet  Lydia  was  gone.  The  soft  verdure  of  spring 
was  spread  over  her  grave,  and  the  moon  shone  brightly 


l8li.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.  3  33 

upon  it.  Her  uncommon  perfections  rose  to  our  minds, 
at  once  afflicting  and  consoling  us.  Her  consideration 
for  others,  especially  the  poor,  was  evinced  in  so  many 
ways  that  it  would  be  vain  to  endeavour  to  enumerate 
them.  If  she  reared  a  kitten  for  a  cabin,  she  gave  it 
what  she  called  a  suitable  education  for  its  future  lot, 
feeding  it  as  it  would  be  likely  to  be  fed.  Such  appa- 
rent trifles  are  not  in  reality  trifles ;  they  display  the 
character.  It  was  on  a  sweet  vernal  afternoon  that  she 
was  buried  ;  how  quiet,  save  the  low^  voice  of  sorrow  ! 
and  how  the  little  children  wept !  The  funeral  was 
solemn,  and  attended  by  about  a  thousand  people.  But 
I  must  not  linger  thus  beside  her  grave.  Sweetest, 
dearest  spirit,  farewell ! 


334 


CHAPTER  XII. 
i8ii. 

Thomas  Wray  a  "handsome  Quaker," — Departure  aud  return  of 
Susy  O'Hara. — A  prisoner  of  war. — The  rich  woman  of  Ballybar- 
ney. — A  new  rector. — Notices  of  Burke  and  Beaconsfield. — 
The  school  library. — ^ Arrival  of  the  Grattan  family,  and  anec- 
dotes of  Thomas  Wilkinson.  —The  Duke  of  Leinster  visits  the 
village. — Death  of  Pat  Rogers  in  an  English  prison. — A  chari- 
table fund  established. — The  great  snow.— Tale  of  Carlow 
Castle. — Visit  of  Judge  Day. — News  of  the  proclamation  of 
peace. — William  Robinson,  the  new  usher. — Joyful  return  of 
Joseph  Williams  from  a  French  prison. — ^Results  of  the  war. — 
A  luminous  arch. — Fearful  storm  and  fall  of  a  great  ivy  tree  in 
the  school  garden. — Charitable  bequests  of  the  Keatinge  family. 
— Illness  and  death  of  William  Robinson. — Juvenile  Magazine. 
— Visit  from  some  of  the  Edgeworth  family. — Misfortunes  of 
Betty  Cvirran. — ^Death  of  Deborah  Wilson. — Hard  times  after 
the  war. — A  studious  invalid. — Happy  end  of  a  Chancery  suit. 
— Fever  in  the  school. — Death  of  Samuel  Grubb        334  to  362 

J^BENEZER  SHACKLETON  became  tenant  to 
Maria  Jolinson  for  the  farm  at  Euller's-court,  on  a 
perpetual  lease,  so  that  the  great  grandson  of  John 
Barcroft  now  cultivated  the  fields  which  his  ancestor 
had  purchased.  Ebenezer,  being  at  Maria  Johnson's 
residence   near   Bray,  was   introduced  to  one  of  her 


l8ll.]  THE    ANNxVLS    OF   BALLITORE.  ;^^^ 

neighbours,  whom,  before  they  knew  his  name,  the 
family  distinguished  by  the  name  of  "the  handsome 
Quaker ;"  being  a  comely  man,  and  wearing  a  broad- 
briimned  hat.  They  afterwards  found  that  he  was  Thomas 
Wray,  living  happily  with  his  Fanny  and  his  fine 
family  amidst  these  beautiful  scenes,  and  still  remem- 
bering Ballitore.  Ebenezer  was  introduced.  Thomas 
bowed  politely  to  the  stranger.  His  name  was  men- 
tioned, "  Shackleton."  "  Mr.  Shackleton !"  he  seized 
both  his  hands — "  you  are  the  grandson  of  my  old 
"  master  ! — I  loved  your  grandfather  next  to  my  own 
"father,"  and  then  all  that  friendship,  remembrance, 
and  hospitality  could  give  were  poured  upon  Ebenezer, 
whose  heart  was  touched  by  this  tribute  to  the  worth 
of  one  whom  he  scarcely  recollected. 

Our  old  neighbour  Susy  O'Hara  took  leave  of  us 
with  tears  and  blessings.  Her  son  William,  who  lives 
in  Cork,  prevailed  upon  her  to  agree  to  spend  the  rem- 
nant of  her  days  with  him,  promising  to  send  her  re- 
mains to  be  interred  here.  A^^e  had  not  long  mourned 
for  our  loss  when  the  car  returned  on  which  Susy  had 
travelled,  sitting  on  her  bed ;  and  the  neighbours  were 
surprised  to  hear  that  Susy  was  shortly  to  folloAv  in  the 
coach.  Ballitore,  in  which  she  had  lived  fifty  years, 
had  such  fast  hold  of  her  heart,  that,  "  dragging  at  each 
remove  a  lengthening  cham,"  she  found  she  could  not 
live  with  comfort  elsewhere. 

Isaac  AVilliams  inhabited  the  house  near  the  bridge, 
which  Joshua  Webster  had  quitted.  His  wife  ^^farga- 
ret  delighted  in  cultivating  her  little  garden  beside  the 


^Z^  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [181I. 

river.  She  laboured  at  it  with  her  own  hands,  and  it 
repaid  her  labours  by  its  fertility  and  beauty.  It  also 
called  off  her  mind  a  little  from  the  painful  reflec- 
tion that  her  beloved  son  Joseph  was  languishing,  in 
the  opening  bloom  of  youth,  in  a  French  prison.  He 
had  been  shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  France,  being  a 
sailor  on  board  a  merchant  ship,  and  was  saved  from 
death  to  be  made  a  prisoner.  They  had  received  but 
one  letter  from  him.  He  had  undergone  great  hard- 
ships in  travelling  long  journeys  on  foot,  and  in  other 
ways,  but  his  letter  evinced  feehng  and  resignation. 

Ally  Johnson,  an  old  inhabitant  of  Ballybarney,  hav- 
ing lost  her  sight,  was  allowed  a  sliilling  a  week  by 
Melesina  Trench,  and  was  led  to  me  once  a  month  to 
receive  it.  Her  benefactress  suggested  knitting,  and 
I  got  wool  spun,  and  taught  her  to  knit  petticoats. 
Never  had  I  so  apt  a  pupil,  and  a  source  of  employment 
was  opened  to  her  in  which  she  took  great  delight. 
What  she  earned  by  this,  added  to  her  pension,  made 
her  comparatively  a  rich  woman.  She  possessed  true 
riches  in  a  contented,  cheerful  temper,  and  a  grateful 
heart.  When  the  stock  of  wool  was  nearly  exhausted, 
old  Ally's  health  began  to  fail,  and  before  a  fresh  sup- 
ply was  manufactured  her  thread  of  Kfe  was  spun. 
She  died  peacefully,  assured  that  her  kind  lady  would 
defray  the  expenses  of  her  funeral,  or,  as  she  expressed 
it,  "  would  bury  her;"  and  it  was  so. 

Latham  Coddington  succeeded  the  late  James  Young 
in  the  care  of  the  parish  of  Timolin.  He  resided  at 
the  glebe  with  his  family.      He  is  a  well-informed. 


l8l2.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  337 

sensible  gentleman,  his  wife  is  accomplished  and  hand- 
some, and  they  have  a  beautiful  group  of  children. 
Anne  Coddington's  mother,  (widow  of  Colonel  Belling- 
ham,)  a  fine  old  gentlewoman,  and  her  sister,  wife  of 
Colonel  Walsh,  were  sometimes  there.  Colonel  Walsh 
was  exceedingly  kind  to  me,  noticing  me  for  the  sake 
of  dear  Edmund  Burke,  with  whom  he  was  acquainted. 
He  sent  me  a  volume  of  ^'  Maxims  "  extracted  from 
the  writings  of  that  illustrious  man,  and  he  told  me 
that  the  last  time  he  saw  Edmund  he  was  in  his  park, 
and  the  children  of  French  emigrants  whom  he  pro- 
tected at  a  school  passed  in  review  before  him.  He 
was  then  so  weak  and  depressed,  that  Colonel  Walsh 
was  not  allowed  to  speak  to  him,  but  stood  at  his  back. 
The  colonel  dwelt  upon  his  amiable  quahties,  and  re- 
marked that  his  reception  of  strangers  was  most  enga- 
ging. Captain  Nagle,  whom  I  saw  at  Edmund  Burke's 
in  1784,  is  now  Sir  Edmund  Nagle  and  an  admiral; 
Walker  King  is  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  William 
Burke  died  lately,  bHnd.  Jane  Burke,  who  has  little 
use  of  her  hmbs,  is  confined  to  the  breakfast  parlour, 
but  in  tolerable  health.  She  possesses  the  house  during 
her  hfe,  a  gentleman  having  purchased  the  estate. 

IS'ot  long  after  learning  these  particulars,  we  heard  of 
the  death  of  Jane  Burke  at  the  age  of  seventy-six ;  and 
some  time  after,  Beaconsfield  was  destroyed  by  fire. 
That  house,  the  scene  of  so  much  domestic  happiness  and 
social  enjoyment,  became  a  smoking  ruin,  as  if  all  trace  of 
that  excellent  family  was  to  be  removed  from  the  earth. 

Hannah   Haughton   and  Anna   Tavemer  left  their 


^^S  THE    ANNALS   OF    BxiLLITORE.  [l8l2. 

dwelling  in  Ballitore,  and  removed  to  Freepark ;  where- 
upon James  White  took  their  house  from  my  brother, 
and  added  it  to  his  own.  The  parlour  was  converted 
into  a  library,  to  which  the  boys  have  free  access,  and 
in  which  several  of  them  dehght  to  spend  their  leisure. 
James  White's  sister  Sally,  a  very  agreeable  young 
woman,  now  became  one  of  his  family,  to  which  her 
society  and  assistance  were  no  little  advantage. 

Death,  whose  scythe  mows  down  rich  and  poor, 
swept  poor  Fardy  Lennon  from  the  earth.  Fardy  had 
served  four  generations  of  our  family,  seemed  to  con- 
sider us  still  children,  and  addressed  us,  even  when 
asking  favours,  in  somewhat  of  a  tone  of  authority, 
scarcely  thanking  us  for  what  he  considered  as  his 
right ;  and  this  was  the  case  with  the  old  servants  of 
the  family  in  general.  The  young  people  were  .some- 
times amused  and  sometimes  hurt  at  apparent  dis- 
respect to  those  whom  they  deemed  entitled  to  respect ; 
but  we,  who  knew  that  this  manner  sprung  from  the 
tenderness  with  which  they  recollected  our  childhood, 
viewed  it  differently.  It  was  a  piteous  sight  to  behold 
the  bitter  tears  coursing  one  another  down  the  wrinkled 
cheeks  of  this  aged  man,  the  morning  of  our  lamented 
Lydia  White's  death,  whom  Fardy,  when  she  was  a 
child  digging  her  little  garden  beside  him,  used  to  call 
his  fellow-workman. 

There  came  to  Ballitore  a  family  of  the  name  of 
Grattan,  to  live  at  the  Eetreat.  Eichard  Grattan,  for- 
merly a  captain  in  the  Kildare  militia,  was  a  pleasant, 
cheerful  gentleman  of  considerable  talents  and  a  culti- 


t8l3.]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE,  339 

vated  mind,  with  manners  at  once  frank  and  polite. 
His  wife,  a  very  handsome  woman,  sensible,  agreeable, 
and  most  careful  of  her  children,  proved,  on  intimate 
acquaintance,  a  noble  character. 

A  brother  of  Captain  Grattan's  came  to  visit  him, 
and  they  introduced  him  to  me  as  a  friend  of  Thomas 
"Wilkinson's.  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that 
he  was  the  person  whom  Thomas  Wilkinson  had  men- 
tioned to  me,  in  a  letter  written  in  1/86,  as  "a  very 
amiable  young  man  of  the  name  of  Grattan."  He  loved 
to  speak  of  Thomas  Wilkinson,  who,  he  says,  is  a 
statesman,  which  means  in  Cumberland  phrase  one 
who  owns  the  fee- simple  of  his  land,  but  works  on 
it  himself :  if  he  did  not  labour  with  his  own  hands, 
he  would  be  an  estated  man.  Our  visitor  told  us  that 
m  the  evening  Thomas  comes  home,  goes  into  his 
room,  doffs  his  clog  shoes,  washes  himself,  and  meets 
his  friends  at  tea  with  hospitable  politeness.  He  had 
lately  been  much  engaged  in  opposing  the  enclosure  of 
a  common  called  Yanwath  Moor.  In  the  height  of  the 
debate  one  of  his  opponents  made  him  trustee  to  liis 
will ;  and  such  is  the  universal  confidence  in  his  upright 
character,  that  when  the  decision  to  enclose  the  com- 
mon was  come  to,  against  his  judgment,  Thomas  was 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  committee  which  was  ap- 
pointed to  see  that  it  was  properly  done. 

The  Duke  of  Leinster,  having  been  appointed  by  the 
Farming  Society  for  the  County  of  Kildare  to  visit  along 
with  other  gentlemen  our  Lancasterian  schools,  called 
here.     He  is  a  young  man  of  genteel  figure,  agreeable 


340  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1813. 

countenance,  and  easy  manners.  Much  interest  is  ex- 
cited by  the  first  nobleman  in  our  land  now  entering 
into  public  life,  and  sincere  desires  are  awakened  that 
he  may  act  so  as  to  promote  his  own  happiness  and 
the  happiness  of  the  many  whose  comforts  are  so  de- 
pendant on  liim. 

In  this  year  died  our  old  friend  Pat  Eogers.  The 
earnings  of  his  life  had  been  swept  away  by  the  bank- 
ruptcy of  others,  but  he  had  health,  talents,  and 
an  independent  mind,  and  hoped  to  retrieve  what  he 
had  lost  j  at  least  to  leave  liis  children  a  competence. 
In  order  to  accomplish  this,  he  went  to  London  to 
settle  accounts  with  the  assignee  of  the  bankrupt,  and 
receive  a  balance  due  to  him.  This  man,  under  pre- 
tence that  Pat  Eogers  was  the  debtor,  threw  him  into 
prison,  and  endeavoured  by  confinement  to  compel 
him  to  comply  with  the  unjust  demand.  Pat  resisted, 
assured  that  the  laws  of  his  country  would  soon  liberate 
him ;  but  the  humiliatiou,  grief,  and  confinement  which 
he  suffered  combined  to  liberate  him  more  speedily. 
He  died  in  prison,  far  from  his  home,  his  friends, 
and  his  children.  That  he  should  thus  close  his  ex- 
emplary life  was  a  close  trial  to  those  who  loved  him ; 
his  dear  wife  escaped  that  trial,  and  perhaps  their 
spirits  now  rejoice  together  even  in  that  event  which 
appears  to  us  so  afflicting.  His  son  got  a  situation 
in  a  bank;  and  his  daughter,  delicate  in  health  and 
sore  wounded  in  mind,  was  supported  by  that  hidden 
strength  which  is  never  sought  for  in  vain. 

A  fund  for  the  assistance  of  poor  housekeepers  was 


1 8  14-]  THE    ANXALS    OF    BALLITORE.  34 1 

raised  amongst  us,  at  the  recommendation  of  Margaret 
Bonham,  and  was  liberally  assisted  by  her.  A  monthly 
committee,  held  at  the  same  time  as  that  for  con- 
ducting the  affairs  of  the  Lancasterian  school,  directed 
this  bounty,  which  to  some  was  handed  in  money 
weekly,  and  to  others  given  in  provisions,  as  the  case 
required.  The  clothing  fund  received  an  increase  by  a 
yearly  donation  of  ten  pounds  from  Sarah  Medlicott ; 
and  these  charities,  collected  in  small  sums,  winding,  hke 
modest  fertilizing  streams,  a  silent  course  through  the 
abodes  of  poverty,  conveyed  gladness  to  many  a  heart. 
In  about  twelve  months,  by  weekly  subscriptions  and 
some  donations,  £23  14s.  3d.  was  collected,  with  which 
were  purchased  twenty-seven  blankets  and  ninety-one 
articles  of  clothing,  which  were  distributed  among  fifty- 
one  necessitous  persons.  The  uncommon  distress  of 
the  season  caused  many  claims  to  be  made  upon  those 
who  had  anything  to  spare. 

On  the  loth  of  First-month  (January),  there  fell 
incessant  and  heavy  showers  of  snow  during  the  after- 
noon, and  next  morning  the  doors  and  windows  were 
choked  up.  The  snow  was  with  difficulty  cleared  away 
from  them,  and  footways  were  dug  to  allow  people  to 
go  about  their  home  business.  The  drifts  were  so  great 
as  nearly  to  bury  the  cabins  under  them,  and  in  many 
places  rose  high  above  the  hedges.  It  was  a  night  of 
great  dismay.  Our  excellent  Winny  Doyle  had  nearly 
perished  on  her  road  home  from  Birdtown.  A  woman 
was  found  on  the  morning  of  the  nth  nearly  exhaust- 
ed, supporting  herself  by  an  elder-tree  bough  which 


342  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1814. 

overhung  the  drift  into  which  she  had  phniged ;  some 
lads  who  were  looking  for  sheep,  and  found  her  thus, 
took  her  to  their  mother,  who  laid  her  in  a  warm  bed, 
and  went  into  the  hed  beside  her.  This  act  of  hu- 
manity restored  the  frozen  guest,  but  cost  the  kind 
hostess  her  life.  Many  affecting  accounts  reached  us 
of  persons  lost  on  that  fatal  night. 

An  intense  frost  hardened  the  snow,  and  travelling 
Avas  impracticable  to  the  north  of  Ballitore,  except  on 
foot.  With  infinite  difficulty  a  hearse  arrived  at  Balli- 
tore inn,  conveying  the  body  of  a  gentlewoman  who 
had  died  at  Kilkenny.  Her  two  sons  of  the  name  of 
Whitestone,  one  an  ironmonger  in  Kennedy" s-lane, 
accompanied  the  remains,  which  they  intended  to  inter 
in  Dublin.  After  staying  nearly  a  week  at  the  inn, 
they  left  the  body  locked  up  there,  and  set  out  on  foot 
for  Dublin.  Two  weeks  after  they  returned,  and,  re- 
signing the  idea  of  taking  the  body  further,  laid  their 
mother  in  the  burial-ground  at  Timolin,  about  a  mile 
from  Ballitore. 

Imprisoned  as  we  now  were,  we  were  quite  shut  out 
from  hearing  how  the  surrounding  world  went  on.  The 
posts  were  stopped.  Occasionally  mail-guards  brought 
hither  and  committed  to  our  charge  for  the  night  the 
southern  mails.  The  Cashel  mail,  borne  by  a  horse- 
man and  followed  by  another  sounding  a  horn,  galloped 
through  Ballitore,  as  being  more  passable  than  the 
usual  road.  Some  days  after  this  the  mail  passed  in  a 
more  stately  manner — in  a  coach  and  six !  for  Eobert 
Grubb,  a  public  spirited   man,  exerted   his  influence 


l8l4.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  343 

successfully  to  have  the  roads  opened,  and  at  length 
our  long  fast  for  news  was  broken,  and  I  could  not 
forbear  thinking  of  Baron  Munchausen's  frozen  words 
restored  to  sound  by  thaw.  We  were  a  week  without 
the  post-bags  coming  in,  and  they  came  irregularly  for 
some  time.  Then  there  reached  us  many  accounts 
of  the  deaths  of  ancient  people;  amongst  these  was 
Michael  Kearney,  the  worthy  and  learned  cotemporary 
and  friend  of  my  father.  The  15th  of  the  First-month 
the  thermometer  was  twenty  degrees  below  the  freezing 
point,  and  it  was  a  month  before  the  snow  disappeared. 
I  expected  a  fruitful  and  warm  summer  to  succeed  this 
season  of  remarkable  severity  :  but  my  friend  James 
White  entertained  a  different  expectation,  from  the 
chill  of  the  frost  which  had  so  deeply  penetrated  the 
bosom  of  the  earth.  His  conjecture,  more  consonant 
to  reason,  proved  to  be  the  right  one,  for  we  had  an  un- 
commonly cold  summer. 

Though  not  in  our  immediate  neighbourhood,  we 
lamented  the  fall  of  great  part  of  the  castle  of  Carlow 
on  the  r3th  of  Second-month  (February).  Doctor 
Middleton,  lately  come  thither,  rented  it,  and  expended 
some  thousands  in  attempting  to  make  that  noble  pile 
not  only  a  habitable  but  a  magnificent  abode.  He  made 
excavations  under  part  of  the  foundation,  and  planned 
a  garden  over  arches  which  were  to  form  the  vaulted 
roofs  of  kitchens ;  so  that  a  poor  mechanic  remarked 
that  he  was  making  a  Babel.  His  design  bespoke  great 
taste,  but  failed  in  the  execution,  probably  from  a  want 
of  judgment  or  care  in  the  workmen.     Providentially 


344  "^^^    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1814. 

it  was  on  the  first  day  of  the  week  that  the  two  towers 
which  had  been  undermined  fell ;  they  fell  so  near  a 
cabin  that  the  wife  had  not  power  to  follow  her  husband, 
who  had  snatched  up  the  child  and  ran  out.  Terror 
held  her  motionless,  till  she  saw  the  ruin  stop  within  a 
foot  of  her  house,  when,  dropping  on  her  knees,  she 
returned  thanks  to  her  great  Preserver. 

On  his  way  to  the  assizes  for  our  county,  Judge  Day 
called  at  BaUitore  school  to  see  the  children  of  one  of 
his  friends.  He  was  very  affable,  and  at  parting  wished 
James  White  success,  and  James  wished  him  "a pair 
of  white  gloves,"  which  the  judge  is  entitled  to  if  no 
sentence  of  death  is  passed  by  him,  and  which  Judge 
Day  obtained  at  this  time. 

It  was  the  13th  of  the  Fourth-month  (April),  on  a 
morning  breathing  the  sweetness  of  spring  and  the 
promise  of  summer,  that  William  Leadbeater  awakened 
me  saying,  as  he  entered  the  room,  "  It  is  all  over ! 
— the  war  is  at  an  end  !"  His  glad  voice  had  the 
expression  of  grateful  joy.  Methought  the  eastern  sky 
beamed  with  brightened  hues,  that  the  trees  waved 
fresher  verdure,  and  that  heaven  and  earth  rejoiced. 
Wherever  we  turned  cheerful  countenances  congratu- 
lated one  another,  for  those  who  were  so  happy  as  to 
have  no  relative  exposed  to  the  miseries  of  war  felt  a 
reflected  joy  from  others  who  were  relieved  from  anxiety 
for  the  fate  of  their  friends. 

Our  neighbours,  Isaac  and  Margaret  WiUiams  and 
their  daughter  Jane,  were  now  animated  with  hope  of 
embracing  once  more  their  long  lost  Joseph,  whom  they 


1814.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  34'5 

fondly  expected,  day  by  day,  with  increasing  solicitude. 
While  thus  listening  to  every  step,  their  anxious  eyes 
continually  directed  to  passing  objects,  a  young  man 
presented  himself  at  the  door :  he  appeared  to  have 
arrived  by  the  coach.  Jane  Williams  rushed  out  of 
the  parlour,  and  had  almost  caught  the  stranger  in  her 
arms  before  she  perceived  he  was  indeed  a  stranger, 
and  not  her  brother.  She  retired  almost  fainting,  and 
her  mother  came  forward  to  apologize  for  her  daughter's 
agitation,  and  to  point  out  to  the  young  man  James 
White's  house,  for  which  he  inquired. 

The  stranger's  name  was  William  Eobinson.  He 
was  a  native  of  Gilford  in  the  county  of  Down.  His 
parents  died  when  he  was  about  eighteen,  and  the  care 
of  three  children,  a  brother  and  two  sisters,  devolved 
upon  him.  Providence  had  gifted  him  with  an  excel- 
lent understanding,  a  taste  for  literature,  much  appli- 
cation and  industry.  He  became  the  master  of  a  free- 
school,  he  taught  the  children  of  gentlemen  at  their 
houses,  he  copied  wills,  leases,  &c.,  and  thus  main- 
tained his  little  family,  educating  them  himself,  till  his 
brother  w^as  advantageously  apprenticed.  James  White, 
being  in  w^ant  of  an  usher  of  the  established  church, 
had  been  in  treaty  with  this  youth,  whose  worth  and 
talents  were  well  known  to  and  strongly  recommended 
by  his  friends  in  the  north.  His  coming  had  been 
delayed  by  the  state  of  his  health,  which  Avas  injured 
by  exertions  for  independence  too  unremitting  for  his 
delicate  constitution  to  support ;  and  on  liis  arrival 
here  the  hectic  glow  of  liis  complexion  and  the  bright- 


34*5  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [1814. 

ness  of  his  eyes  awakened  apprehensions  on  his  account. 
At  the  same  time  his  pleasing  exterior,  tall  in  person 
and  expressive  in  countenance,  his  manners  agreeable, 
modest,  yet  unembarrassed  and  easy,  added  painful 
regret  to  these  forebodings. 

The  virtues  and  accomplishments  of  the  new  usher 
soon  increased  the  interest  his  first  appearance  had 
inspired.  His  conversation  was  full  of  good  sense, 
tinctured  with  that  pleasantry  which  springs  from  a 
lively  imagination  and  a  pure  heart.  The  religious 
ferling  with  which  his  mind  was  imbued  appeared 
more  in  his  excellent  example  than  in  words.  He  had 
a  poetical  talent,*  and  he  drew  from  nature  with  taste 
and  accuracy.  His  view  of  Ballitore,  taken  from  an 
upper  window  in  my  brother's  house,  does  justice  to  the 
delicacy  and  fidehty  of  his  pencil,  and  he  had  acquired 

*  The  following  sonnet  was  written  by  William  Robinson  : — 

TO  M,  VOLNEY,  AUTHOR  OF  THE  "  RUINS  OF  EMPIRES." 

Volney,  thy  scheme — all  cheerless  and  unblest. 
Which  robs  its  votary  of  his  guardian  power, 
Snatches  the  solace  from  affliction's  hour, 

And  dims  with  clouds  the  sunshine  of  the  breast ; 

Sweeps  from  the  wretch  dejected  and  distressed, 
When  dangers  thicken  and  when  tempests  lour, 
His  refuge  and  his  hope,  his  shield  and  tower, 

And  leaves  him  hopeless,  helpless,  and  depress'd  ; 

Casts  him  an  orphan  on  the  world  of  care 

To  drudge  and  toil,  then  drop  from  life  and  light 

Into  the  gloomy  gulf  of  dark  despair, 
Wrapt  in  eternal  and  oblivious  night. 

To  thee  I  leave  this  cold  and  joyless  plan. 

And  hail  Religion  as  the  friend  of  man  ! 


1 8  14-]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  347 

the  immortalizing  art  without  instruction  or  assistance 
from  others. 

I  have  digressed  from  the  story  of  the  liberated  cap- 
tive. The  account  of  his  landing  at  Plymouth,  rejoic- 
ing to  be  in  a  free  country  once  more — then  a  letter 
from  him  with  the  Wexford  postmark,  which  I  opened 
for  his  mother,  whose  trembling  hand  could  not  break 
the  seal — the  day  fixed  for  him  to  come  to  Ballitore, — 
all  followed  each  other  in  rapid  and  joyous  succession, 
putting  to  flight  the  shadows  of  suspense  and  fear.  But 
they  did  not  entirely  chase  away  that  indescribable 
anxiety  which  precedes  the  fulfilment  of  the  dearest 
earthly  wish,  convincing  us  that  there  is  a  plus  ultra^ 
and  that  notliing  of  this  world  alone  can,  or  ought,  fully 
to  satisfy  the  immortal  soul.  Yet  I  am  sure  the  affec- 
tionate feeling  hearts  of  this  household  were  penetrated 
with  humble  gratitude  and  a  sense  of  the  favour  grant- 
ed in  the  restoration  of  this  beloved  youth. 

The  day  appointed  for  Josej^h  Williams's  return 
came  at  length.  It  was  a  fine  summer's  day,  and  his 
father  and  sister  wxnt  to  Sallins  to  meet  him.  His 
mother  often  appeared  at  her  door,  sending  many  a  look 
up  the  road,  "  with  all  the  longing  of  a  mother."  The 
hearts  and  eyes  of  her  neighbours  sympathised  mth 
her.  Our  post  of  observation  was  the  low  wall  over 
the  river  at  the  bottom  of  our  garden.  The  sound  of 
wheels  was  heard,  and  then  appeared  the  jaunting-car 
which  had  gone  for  him.  We  saw  Margaret  Williams 
turn  suddenly  into  the  house — perhaps  her  feelings  had 
overpowered  her.     Alas !  it  was  the  feeling  of  disap- 


34^  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1814. 

pointment,  and  another  look  revealed  the  cause — Joseph 
was  not  there  !  The  boat  had  passed  Sallins  before  liis 
father  reached  it,  and  of  course  the  young  stranger  had 
gone  on  to  Athy  :  thither  the  father  and  sister  hastened 
in  a  chaise,  and  about  ten  o'clock  at  night  wheels  were 
again  heard.  We  ran  to  the  door  ;  the  exulting  voice 
of  Jane  Williams  hailed  us,  "  We  have  him  !" 

All  who  were  out  of  doors  pursued  the  carriage,  and 
some  had  the  happmess  of  seeing  the  youth  spring  out 
of  it  into  his  mother's  arms.  What  an  intrusion  on 
the  sacredness  of  such  a  meeting  !  Thus  thought  Mary 
Doyle,  myself,  and  my  daughter  Elizabeth,  even  while 
an  impulse  which  seemed  at  once  involuntary  and  irre- 
sistible impelled  us  forward  also,  and  we  felt  ashamed 
to  find  ourselves  at  Isaac  Williams's  door.  Margaret 
and  Jane  espied  us,  and  would  have  us  in.  The  neat 
parlour,  even  neater  than  usual,  a  clean  cloth  spread 
upon  the  table,  a  blazing  fire  to  take  off  the  chill  of  the 
night  air,  of  travelling,  and  of  agitated  feelings,  the 
looks  of  unalloyed  rapture  beaming  around  us, — all 
conveyed  to  our  hearts  that  most  delightful  sensa- 
tion which  arises  from  contemplating  the  happiness  of 
others,  increased  by  the  knowledge  that  thousands 
were  restored  to  like  happiness.  "Joseph  is  yet  alive  !" 
exclaimed  the  glad  mother.  "  Look  at  him,"  said  the 
admiring  sister,  "  what  a  fine  tall  fellow  he  is  !"  He 
had  grown  taller  since  they  parted,  had  a  good,  can- 
did, and  expressive  countenance,  agreeable  manners, 
and  was  a  sensible  and  industrious  young  man.  He 
had  deprived  himself  of  part  of  his  food  while  a   pri- 


1814.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  349 

soner,  to  pay  for  grammatical  instruction  in  the  French 
language.  He  was  the  active  friend  of  his  fellow- 
prisoners,  and  frequently  assisted  them  by  representing 
their  cases  to  the  charitable.  Though  he  suffered  much 
hardship,  he  spoke  well  of  the  French,  and  of  their 
treatment  of  their  prisoners  of  war,  and  assured  us  that 
the  army  was  still  much  attached  to  Buonaparte. 

The  sword  being  now  sheathed,  several  officers  pitch- 
ed their  tents  in  peaceful  Ballitore.  How  many  plea- 
sures did  peace  bring  in  her  train,  both  by  observation 
and  report !  Even  before  the  preliminaries  were  en- 
tirely settled,  the  French  and  English  interchanged 
visits.  No  personal  enmity  had  existed,  and  they 
gladly  embraced  as  brethren.  Prisoners  were  restored 
to  liberty  and  to  home — of  this  w^e  had  seen  one  de- 
lightful picture. 

The  sudden  fall  on  the  produce  of  land,  which  caused 
pecuniary  inconvenience  to  farmers,  was  scarcely  to  be 
placed  on  the  reverse  of  the  medal;  for  it  had  a  reverse 
— the  tears  of  those  w^ho  mourned  for  "fathers,  bro- 
thers, lovers  lost  \"  flowed  with  increased  bitterness 
from  contrasting  their  situations  mth  others.  A  dis- 
embodied militia  and  disbanded  soldiers  were  thrown 
upon  the  country,  many  of  them  a  dead  w^eight,  with 
idle  habits ;  many  a  pest,  with  vicious  ones.  Accustomed 
to  turbulence  and  plunder,  some  of  these  were  sus- 
pected of  deeds  of  violence  and  rapine.  However,  it 
was  hoped  that  things  would  find  their  own  level,  and 
the  quiet  streams  of  peace  fertilize  the  land  through 
which  they  circled,  and  that  those  wretched  beings  who 


350  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^^Ij. 

returned  with  the  loss  of  health  and  limbs,  or,  still 
M'orse,  of  virtue,  would  feel  their  agitated  spirits  par- 
taking of  the  calm  now  afforded. 

An  extraordinary  exhibition  claimed  our  attention. 
On  the  night  of  the  i  ith  of  Mnth-month  (September), 
— a  luminous  arch  from  west  to  north  stretched  across 
the  sky.  It  continued  a  considerable  time  before  it 
faded  away ;  but  throughout  the  night  "  the  blaze  of 
meteors,"  which  Thomson  describes  in  his  appropriate 
lines,  attracted  some  curious  eyes  which  preferred  to  the 
sweets  of  repose  the  gratification  of  gazing  on  these 
wonders. 

Near  the  close  of  this  year  there  arose  such  a  storm 
as  no  one  here  remembered  ever  to  have  seen.  It 
began  on  the  1 6th  of  Twelfth-month  (December),  early 
in  the  morning,  and  was  felt  all  over  the  island.  Slates 
and  thatch  poured  down  or  flew  off  the  houses ;  trees 
were  torn  up  or  broken  ;  yet  little  serious  damage  was 
done  here. 

In  this  storm  one  of  the  ivy  trees  that  covered  the 
piers  of  the  gate  at  the  entrance  of  the  school-garden 
was  blown  down.  The  berries  from  which  these  trees 
grew  had  been  sown  by  James  ]\IcConnaughty  on  the 
day  that  my  sister  Sally  was  born.  The  naked  pier 
discloses  a  neat  top  of  cut-stone,  which  with  its  fellow 
— still  covered  with  ivy — was  given  to  my  mother  by 
her  friend  and  neighbour  Joseph  Wills  when  the  piers 
were  built.  The  gift  has  now  become  visible,  while 
the  giver  and  receiver  are  seen  no  more. 

Early  in  the  year  1815  the  remains  of  Antonia  Grace 


I  8 15.]  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  35  I 

Keatiiige,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Colonel  and  Lady 
Martha  Keatinge,  were  brought  from  Montpelier,  to  be 
laid  in  their  family  vault  at  Narraghmore.  She  was 
twenty -three  years  of  age,  of  a  most  amiable  character, 
and  remarkably  benevolent — as  the  letters  which  I 
have  received  from  her,  relative  to  the  charitable  be- 
quest of  one  of  her  sisters,  can  testify.  The  colonel 
added  the  interest  of  £500  more,  in  memory  of  an- 
other deceased  daughter ;  and  Antonia's  legacy  was 
now  added  to  theirs.  These  bequests  are  recorded  on 
tablets  in  the  church  of  ^N^arraghmore. 

The  assistance  of  William  Eobinson  was  a  valuable 
acquisition  to  the  school ;  but  it  did  not  long  possess 
this  advantage.  He  had  suffered  from  a  disease  in  his 
foot,  which  grew  better ;  but  he  had  not  been  long  at 
Ballitore  when  it  became  rapidly  worse ;  and  he  fre- 
quently said  he  believed  he  should  not  live  long.  He 
went  to  Dublin  to  consult  the  doctors  and  to  see  his 
sisters  ;  all  the  medical  men  who  saw  his  foot  were  of 
opinion  that  the  case  was  hopeless. 

He  preserved  liis  usual  cheerfulness,  except  when 
quite  overpowered  by  pain  or  sickness  ;  and  still  enter- 
tained his  friends  by  his  anecdotes  and  playful  sallies 
of  wit.  His  gentle  manners,  his  good  humour  and 
patience  rendered  him  very  dear  to  the  family  where 
his  lot  was  cast.  He  required  but  little  attendance,  and 
he  received  it  with  gratitude.  For  about  four  months 
before  he  died  he  was  confined  entirely  to  his  room, 
lying  on  the  bed,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Davis,  whose 
skill  and  humanity  were  unremittingly  exerted  to  miti- 


3^2  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1815. 

gate  his  sufferings,  though  they  could  not  restore  him 
to  health. 

Sensible  that  he  should  never  be  able  to  resume  the 
duties  of  his  situation,  he  recommended  James  White 
to  supply  his  place  by  the  late-returned  youth,  Joseph 
Williams,  whose  good  conduct  and  desire  to  improve 
himself  he  had  observed.  The  advice  was  taken,  and 
William  Eobiuson  then  proposed  to  leave  the  house, 
lest  the  residence  of  an  invalid  in  the  family  might 
injure  the  school.  But  this,  his  friends  assured  him, 
could  not  be  the  case,  as  his  distemper  was  not  conta- 
gious, and  his  room  was  detached  from  the  other  apart- 
ments ;  besides,  they  would  not  give  up  the  pleasure  of 
his  society,  nor  consent  to  consign  him  to  other  hands. 
This  determination  was  comfortable  to  him,  for  he  loved 
this  family,  though  his  independent  mind  was  not  will- 
ing to  encroach  on  their  kindness.  He  proposed  to 
pay  for  his  board;  but  this  would  not  be  accepted, 
and  he  was  made  welcome  as  to  the  house  of  a  brother. 
The  schoolboys  delighted  in  visiting  him,  and  while 
he  was  able  to  receive  them  he  was  seldom  alone  in 
their  playhours.  He  amused  liimseK  with  learning 
French,  and  reading. 

Thus  passed  eight  or  ten  weeks,  but  liis  complaints 
gained  ground,  and  he  was  no  longer  able  to  entertain 
himself  with  reading,  or  with  the  company  of  young 
people.  Though  he  was  daily  growing  worse,  he  would 
not  allow  his  friends  to  be  alarmed  about  him,  till  he 
perceived  plainly  that  there  was  not  much  more  time  to 
spare.     His  brother  had  paid  him  a  visit  in  the  begin- 


iSlj.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.         ^^l^ 

ning  of  Ms  illness,  and  had  left  him  with  the  hope  of 
his  recovery,  but  now  he  was  summoned  to  his  death- 
bed. Their  meeting  was  extremely  affecting.  The  day 
after  his  brother's  arrival  he  employed  him  to  regulate 
his  papers,  desiring  all  those  of  a  frivolous  nature  to  be 
burned. 

On  one  occasion,  after  enumerating  his  sufferings  to 
a  friend  who  sat  beside  him,  he  said,  "As  the  poor  body 
"  is  suffering  so  much,  it  would  be  almost  desirable  that 
"  all  was  over."  His  friend  replied  "  that  it  was  well 
"  to  be  resigned  however  the  disease  might  terminate." 
"  Yes,"  answered  Wilham,  "  and  I  feel  a  good  deal  of 
"  satisfaction  in  waiting  for  the  event.  I  have  been  sup- 
"  ported  beyond  my  expectation."  At  another  time  he 
said,  "I  feel  sinking  fast  under  my  sufferings,  but  I 
"  have  long  made  up  my  mind  to  hope  in  the  happiness 
"  of  eternity,  and  to  rely  on  my  blessed  Eedeemer  :  I 
"  thank  God  I  have  no  distress  of  mind. 

Eichard  Shackleton  spoke  to  him  about  Ms  French 
studies.  "  I  am  going,"  he  observed,  "  where  there  is 
"  no  confusion  of  tongues ;  where  there  is  a  universal 
"  language." 

"  I  trust,"  said  he,  one  day,  "  that  I  have  been  deli- 
"  vered  from  many  evils.  I  have  often  enjoyed  the 
"  Divine  presence.  For  several  years  I  have  had  great 
"  enjoyment  of  the  world,  and  I  have  seen  the  image  of 
"the  Lord,  the  great  God,  impressed  upon  all  his 
"works.  One  thing  gave  me  some  uneasiness,  and 
"that  was  my  own  insignificance  amidst  His  great 
"creation;  but  I  recollected  that  He  cares  for  the  spar- 


354  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^^l^. 

"  rows,  and  not  one  can  fall  to  the  ground  without  His 
"  knowledge." 

He  spoke  much  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  but 
added  that  the  speculations  of  the  head  do  little  to. 
convince  us.  "  You  must  renounce  sin,  you  must  do 
"  the  will  of  God,  and  then  your  soul  will  become  inte- 
"  rested  in  His  religion ;  even  I,  a  poor,  unworthy  sin- 
"ner,  have  often  experienced  great  joy,  and  in  silence 
"  and  solitude,  when  I  have  been  walking  by  myself,  I 
"  have  felt  unutterable  tilings." 

About  a  week  before  his  death,  a  young  man  came  to 
see  him,  and  read  several  pieces  to  him  concerning  the 
vanities  of  the  world.  One,  who  sat  by,  remarked  that 
these  subjects  did  not  match  William's  present  state,  as 
she  believed  he  had  got  beyond  them.  But  the  humble 
sufferer  said  he  liked  to  hear  anything  that  was  good, 
and  that  he  did  not  feel  himself  elevated  above  the 
smallest  child.  Speaking  of  one  who  had  praised  him, 
he  said  he  could  not  bear  it;  he  wished  rather  to  be 
shown  his  errors,  and  directed  to  the  Source  of  good. 
He  spoke  of  a  little  society  of  methodists  who  used  to 
meet  at  the  house  where  he  lodged  in  the  North ;  he 
said  they  were  a  humble  people,  that  he  had  often  felt 
great  sweetness  amongst  them,  and  was  still  much 
united  to  them.  He  spoke  of  the  danger  of  a  sect 
becoming  fashionable,  and  of  great  repute  in  the  world ; 
also,  of  their  possessing  much  wealth,  or  being  greatly 
engrossed  by  business :  that  when  he  observed  ostenta- 
tion creep  into  a  sect,  he  trembled  for  it,  adding  that 
amongst  the  methodists,  protestants,  quakers,  and  every 


l8l5-]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  3^5 

society  he  knew  of,  there  were  some  sincerely  religious 
people,  and  there  were  also  many  who  were  slaves  to 
the  fashions  of  the  world,  and  who  cringed  to  the  great. 

On  the  1 6th  of  First-month,  the  dear  sufferer  peace- 
fully expired,  his  brother  and  friends  standing  round 
his  bed;  and  the  remains  lay  as  in  a  placid  sleep. 

I  entered  James  White's  house  a  few  minutes  after 
this  event  had  taken  i)lace.  Many  of  the  boys  stood 
silently  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  apart- 
ment of  death ;  some  stood  in  groups,  others  sat  in  the 
windows,  and  a  solemnity  was  spread  over  all;  the  more 
striking  as  contrasted  with  the  gay  spirits  and  active 
movements  which  were  wont  to  enliven  this  house  : 
tenderness  and  respect  were  mingled  with  their  sorrow. 
They  were  not  summoned  to  school  that  afternoon, 
but  I  believe  there  was  not  a  quieter  house  in  Ballitore* 
Joseph  Wilhams  had  taken  them,  by  two  at  a  time, 
into  the  room  where  their  late  friend  and  instructor 
lay,  just  after  his  spirit  departed. 

William  Eobinson  was  interred  in  our  graveyard 
by  his  brother's  desire  ;  the  schoolboys  and  many  of 
the  inhabitants  accompanying  the  remains  in  solemn 
silence. 

One  of  the  pupils  now  at  the  school  was  Thomas 
Fisher,  a  lad  Avliose  acquisitiofts  were  as  remarkable  as 
his  modesty.  For  some  time  he  printed  with  his  pen  a 
monthly  collection  of  essays,  called  the  "  Juvenile 
Magazine,"  for  the  reading  of  which  one  penny  was 
charged,  except  to  the  schoolboys,  who  paid  a  half- 
penny ;  this  money  was  applied  to  the  education  of  poor 


c^^6  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [^815. 

children  at  the  Lancasterian  School.  His  father  was  so 
much  pleased  with  this  ingenious  benevolence,  that  he 
got  the  magazine  printed  in  Limerick,  the  profits  of  its 
sale  being  applied  as  above. 

An  account  of  the  distribution  of  premiums  for  neat 
cottages  awarded  to  some  of  our  labourers  was  sent  to 
the  "  Farmer's  Journal,"  and  procured  us  this  autumn 
an  agreeable  surprise.  One  evening  a  young  man  and 
woman  came  to  the  post-office  window,  and  inquired  for 
a  letter  for  Mr.  Edgeworth ;  the  name  gave  us  a  start, 
but  we  supposed  there  were  other  families  of  that  name. 
A  negative  answer  was  returned ;  they  smiled  at  each 
other,  and  the  gentleman  expressed  a  wish  to  see  the 
cottage  of  "Eose."  It  had  been  mentioned,  in  the 
account  of  the  premiums,  that  the  character  of  Eose  in 
"  Cottage  Dialogues  "  was  drawn  from  Winifred  Doyle. 
They  were  invited  in,  and  proved  to  be  Charles  Sneyd 
Edgeworth,  son  to  Eichard  Lovell  Edgeworth  and  bro- 
ther to  Maria,  with  his  wife.  Next  morning  they 
visited  Winifred  Doyle,  calling  also  at  John  Kelly's, 
Mary  Casey's,  and  Fanny  Lyons',  who  had  also  received 
prizes.  They  were  pleased  with  all,  but  especially 
with  Winny,  whom  they  complimented  with  benevolent 
politeness,  received  by  the  worthy  matron  with  grace- 
ful unembarrassed  modesty.  They  also  visited  the  Lan- 
casterian School,  which  met  tlieir  approbation. 

Betty  Curran  was  one  of  the  successful  candidates 
for  a  premium.  She  is  daughter  to  Darby  and  Nancy 
Lennon,  and  has  long  been  remarkable  for  the  indus- 
try and  ingenuity,  which  support  her  aged  and  infirm 


1815.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  357 

parents.  Slie  married  Thomas  Curran,  a  mason,  who 
was  exceedingly  kind  to  her  parents  and  affectionate 
to  her.  He  made  their  little  dwelling  more  comfort- 
able, and  parents  and  daughter  united  in  rejoicing  at 
their  lot.  One  day,  while  repairing  a  lime-kiln,  he  was 
caught  in  rain  ;  the  ladder  had  been  removed  and  no 
one  was  within  hearing  to  relieve  him;  he  was  drenched 
with  wet,  and  chilled  with  cold,  and  the  consequence 
was  a  slow  fever."  The  exertions  of  his  wife  and  her 
anxiety  on  his  account  brought  on  the  premature  birth 
of  two  daughters.  Her  husband,  who  rose  from  his 
sick-bed  to  leave  it  for  her  accommodation,  and  endea- 
voured to  work  to  provide  for  her,  was  soon  obliged  to 
submit  to  the  increasing  disease,  and  his  father,  from 
the  county  of  AVicklow,  came  to  take  him  home  till  he 
should  recruit  his  health.  One  of  the  infants  died,  but 
the  care  of  the  other  and  her  o^vn  weakness  prevented 
his  wife  from  accompanying  him,  save  a  short  way, 
when  they  parted  weeping,  and  he  promised,  if  he 
found  himself  better,  that  she  should  soon  hear  from 
him.  She  did  not  hear  so  soon  as  she  wished,  and  all 
her  apprehensions  were  verified  when  his  brother  came 
with  a  horse  for  her.  Her  last  baby  was  now  dead, 
and  she  set  out  immediately.  She  found  her  beloved 
husband  lying  in  the  grasp  of  death  ;  he  knew  her, 
welcomed  her,  and  died  in  her  arms.  She  staid  till  the 
dear  remains  were  laid  in  earth,  and  then  returned  to 
her  lonely  home  and  her  parents,  who,  sinking  under 
their  own  grief,  could  do  but  little  to  comfort  her. 
She  brooded  over  her  loss  in  sad  silence  ;   her  looks 


358  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITOllE.  [l^lj. 

had  soinetliing  of  despair,  and  slie  has  since  told  me 
that  under  Providence  she  believed  she  owed  the  pre- 
servation of  her  reason  to  the  kind  visits  and  consoling 
counsel  of  my  sister  Sally.  It  was  long  before  I  saw 
her  smile  ;  but  she  did  smile  when  I  gave  her  twenty 
sliillings,  sent  by  Margaret  Bonham,  and  said,  "  Now 
I  can  buy  a  pig."  The  pig  was  bought,  it  throve,  her 
attention  was  occupied,  and  gradually  she  entered  upon 
more  active  employments.  Grief  had  impaired  her 
sight,  and  unfitted  her  for  the  use  of  her  needle. 

On  the  2ist  of  Third-month,  18 15,  our  ancient 
friend,  Deborah  Wilson,  died  at  her  house  in  Carlo w. 
She  had  been  declining  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
kept  her  bed  three  months.  She  was  thirty-two  years 
a  widow,  and  exerted  herself  with  great  assiduity  for 
the  support  and  education  of  her  nine  children.  She 
was  guarded  in  her  words  and  actions,  and  it  has  been 
testified  that  an  unbecoming  word  was  never  known  to 
escape  her  lips.  Her  exertions  for  the  comfort  of  her 
family  were  successful.  She  had  two  daughters  living 
with  her  and  keeping  a  shop.  She  was  a  pattern  of 
good  housewifery,  neat  and  frugal,  generous,  hospitable, 
and  charitable.  The  divisions  in  our  Society  gave  her 
much  concern,  and  she  bore  her  testimony  against  them. 
She  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-five,  much  regretted. 
Her  remains  were  brought  hither  for  interment. 

The  rumours  of  war  had  again  disturbed  our  tran- 
quillity. The  restless  ambition  of  Buonaparte  had 
brought  its  own  punishment  upon  the  memorable  field 
of  Waterloo,  which  needs  no  such  pen  as  mine.     Its 


1815.]        THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITORE.  359 

effects  are  thus  sketched  by  my  friend,  writing  from 
London  :  "  We  are  here  in  the  midst  of  the  tears  and 
the  triumphs  of  a  dear-bought  victory."  Peace  was 
restored  again,  but  this  blessing  was  not  hailed  by  all 
with  thankful  hearts.  One  of  the  many  evils  of  war 
was  the  sudden  increase  of  the  farmer's  wealth,  owing 
to  the  increased  price  of  provisions,  and  his  consequent 
indulgence  in  unaccustomed  luxuries.  These  consum- 
ed his  wealth,  the  source  of  which  was  now  greatly 
lessened ;  he  dismissed  many  of  his  labourers  •  they 
pined  unemployed  amid  the  abundance  of  the  harvest, 
and  looked  round  in  vain  for  assistance.  Many  who 
were  once  rich  were  so  no  longer ;  bankruptcies  took 
place  to  an  alarming  extent,  and  all  ranks  agreed  in 
feeling  and  lamenting  the  pressure  of  the  times.  Yet, 
compared  w4th  those  countries  which  lay  bleeding 
under  the  hand  of  war,  we  had  little  cause  to  complain 
of  our  lot. 

Joshua  Harvey  left  Ballitore  to  pursue  his  studies 
in  Dublin,  where  he  had  opportunity  of  attending 
medical  lectures.  He  left  us  as  if  to  attend  the  Dub- 
lin meeting,  and  to  return ;  thereby  sparing  ourselves 
and  him  the  pain  of  a  formal  farewell,  for  a  sincere 
regard  subsisted  between  him  and  us. 

Betsy  Shackleton  was  hastened  home  from  Dublin, 
on  account  of  her  sister  Margaret's  increased  illness. 
She  recovered  from  this  attack,  but  was  for  a  long 
time  confined  to  her  bed,  and  she  was  afterwards  able 
to  take  exercise  on  the  jaunting-car,  and  on  horseback 
every  day  when  her  health  and  the  weather  permitted. 


360  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [^^Ij. 

For  four  years  her  continued  indisposition  liad  crushed 
the  opening  hopes  of  youth,  and  cut  off  this  dear  young 
creature  from  the  active  occupations  suited  to  her  age 
and  cheerful  temper;  but  she  extracted  enjoyment  from 
what  was  attainable.  Possessing  a  classical  taste,  and 
having  a  judicious  instructor  in  her  affectionate  father, 
she  made  considerable  proficiency  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage. She  often  chose  this  reading  in  preference  to 
English  authors,  in  order  that  her  thoughts  might  be 
more  taken  from  her  pain  by  the  attention  which  a 
foreign  language  required.  Her  friends,  old  and  young, 
loved  her  society  and  her  sweet,  sensible  conversation, 
often  mingled  with  wit  and  humour,  and  we  sometimes' 
flattered  ourselves  that  she  might  be  restored  to  health. 
Meantime  my  brother  and  sister  had  another  cause 
of  anxiety  hanging  like  a  cloud  over  their  beautiful 
abode,  of  which  their  quondam  tenant,  Peter  Delany, 
threatened  to  deprive  them.  This  unjust  and  litigious 
man,  taking  advantage  of  the  unsettled  time  soon  after 
the  rebellion — during  which  he  had  been  ejected  for 
non-payment  of  rent — had  made  several  attempts  to 
substantiate  a  claim  on  the  mill ;  and  though  he  had 
been  twice  defeated  at  law,  yet  on  his  becoming  a 
bankrupt  he  prevailed  upon  his  assignees  to  file  a  bill 
in  chancery  against  my  brother.  As  he  was  provided 
with  false  witnesses,  there  were  great  apprehensions 
lest  he  should  prevail.  My  brother  and  sister  bore 
this  state  of  suspense  with  great  equanimity,  and  their 
daughters  cheerfully  formed  plans  for  future  humble 
life.     The  whole  village  was  interested,  and  waited  the 


1815.]  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  361 

event  in  anxious  expectation.  They  saw  with  indigna- 
tion Peter  Delany  wandering  like  an  evil  spirit  about 
the  little  Eden,  now  gay  with  the  bloom  of  summer, 
and  marking  it  for  his  own. 

At  length  the  cause  came  on,  and  my  brother  went 
to  Dublin.  Peter  Delany's  miller,  on  whose  evidence 
he  chiefly  depended,  swore  so  strongly  to  every  thing 
that  he  fairly  outswore  himself,  and  thus  discovered 
the  baseness  of  the  transaction  to  the  Chancellor,  Lord 
Manners,  who  expressed  his  indignation  in  open  court, 
and  gave  justice  her  due.  A  letter  from  my  brother's 
attorney,  received  next  morning,  24th  of  Sixth-month, 
conveyed  to  my  husband  the  glad  tidings.  Long  did 
the  pleasant  sound  vibrate  in  my  ears  with  which  he 
broke  my  morning's  sleep,  as  he  shouted,  "  Glorious 
news  !  Delany  is  completely  defeated  !" 

The  news  spread  like  wild-fire.  Old  James  Kealy — 
forty  years  employed  in  the  mill,  whoever  held  it — be- 
ing locked  in,  could  not  impart  his  feeling  as  he  wished ; 
therefore  openmg  a  window  and  thrusting  out  his  arms 
he  shouted  to  the  passers-by  with  joyous  solemnity, 
"  Glory  be  to  God !  The  master  has  gained  !"  Judy 
Coffee,  the  old  female  sexton,  danced  for  joy,  and  a 
bonfire  expressed  the  general  rejoicing. 

Ballitore  was  now  cheerful,  and  nearly  sixty  boarders 
filled  James  White's  school.  But  an  alloy  came  to  our 
enjoyments,  and  the  visitation  of  illness  again  spread 
alarm.  The  parents  of  the  schoolboys  were  immedi- 
ately apprized  of  this,  and  many  were  removed  from 
school ;  those  who  remained  lodging  in  the  village. 


362  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [^^^5' 

My  brother-in-law,  Samuel  Grubb  of  Clonmel,  after 
three  years'  lingering  illness,  was  now  rapidly  declining, 
and  died  on  the  9th  of  Eighth -month.  His  last  M^ords 
were,  "  My  spirit  is  going  where  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubKng  and  where  the  weary  are  at  rest."  Most  of 
his  children  were  with  him,  and  his  sons,  with  affec- 
tionate tenderness,  performed  every  office  in  their  power 
for  one  of  the  best  and  most  beloved  of  fathers. 

My  dear  sister,  nearly  forty  years  his  companion, 
was  much  shaken  by  this  stroke,  but  her  mind,  resting 
on  the  Eock  of  ages,  knew  where  to  seek  consolation. 
My  dear  brother  Grubb  was  remarkable  for  his  disin- 
terested friendship.  He  counselled  his  friends  in  their 
business — and  well  qualified  he  was  to  do  so — with  as 
much  earnestness  and  anxiety  as  if  it  was  himself  who 
was  to  profit  by  the  means  he  pointed  out.  He  left  his 
family  in  very  comfortable  circumstances,  most  sincerely 
regretted  by  them,  and  by  his  neighbours  and  friends. 
He  had  beheld  the  slow  but  certain  aj^proach  of  death 
with  calmness  and  resiguation,  humbly  trusting  in  the 
mercy  of  his  Eedeemer,  not  in  his  own  merits.  He 
settled  his  outward  affairs  msely,  and  gave  orders  con- 
cerning his  funeral  in  such  a  manner  as  to  avoid  hurry 
and  bustle  in  conveying  the  coffin  into  the  graveyard. 
He  was  buried  at  Clonmel,  and  there  was  a  very  large 
and  solemn  funeral. 


3^3 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 
1817. 

Laying  the  foundation-stone  of  Griesemount  house.— A  grand 
funeral  in  Ballitore. — Death  of  Eliza  Grattan. — Kilkea  Castle. 
— Predicted  conflagration  of  the  world — quenched  in  Ballitore 
by  a  flood. — Scanty  harvest. — Death  of  Margaret  Shackleton. 
— Visit  from  George  Downes. — Opposition  to  Lancasterian 
schools. — Robbers  and  nightly  patrol. — Lord  Norbury  in  Bal- 
litore.— Visit  from  Dr.  E.  C.  Herbert  Orpen,  the  friend  of  the 
deaf  and  dumb. — Story  of  Maria  Lennon. — The  Queen  of  the 
Marshalsea. — Death  of  William  P.  Le  Fanu. — How  Julia  be- 
came Judy  in  Ballitore. — Repeated  bereavements. — Death  of  the 
Princess  Charlotte. — Prevalence  of  typhus  fever. — Marriage  of 
James  White  and  Mary  Pike. — Presentation  of  plate,  and 
social  visiting. — Adult  school  established. — An  afllicted  family. 
— Religious  visit  from  Anna  Forster  and  Priscilla  Gumey. — 
Last  re-union  of  the  children  of  Richard  Shackleton. — Par- 
ticulars of  the  last  illness,  and  death  of  the  second  Abraham 
Shackleton.- — Review  of  his  character         . .  _  _  363  to  397 

C\^  tlie  22nd  day  of  the  Sixth-moutli  this  year,  the 
tirst  stone  of  George  Shackleton' s  house  at  Griese- 
mount was  laid  by  his  little  niece  Hannah  AVhite.  Her 
father  had  written  a  date,  &c.  in  Latin,  which  he  wrapped 
in  lead  and  put  into  a  bottle,  with  coins  of  the  present 
date,  sealing  it  with  the  seal  of  Ballitore  post-office. 


364  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^S^/- 

This  was  placed  under  the  foundation-stone.  When 
this  bottle  shall  be  opened,  where  shall  we  be  who 
stood  round  to  witness  this  pleasant  ceremony  ?  Our 
places  shall  know  us  no  more  ! 

About  this  time  died  our  old  neighbour  Sally  Ken- 
nedy, who,  according  to  her  own  request,  was  interred 
in  our  graveyard.  Thither  were  her  remains  conveyed 
enclosed  in  a  grand  coffin,  in  a  stately  hearse,  ten  car- 
riages following,  wath  mourners  willing  scarfs  and  hat- 
bands— a  parade  ill-suited  to  the  simple  spot  where  she 
desired  to  be  laid.  She  bequeathed  £20  to  the  poor  of 
Ballitore,  which  was  expended  on  great-coats  and  cloaks 
for  aged  and  infirm  persons. 

The  truism  that  the  scythe  of  death  mows  down  im- 
partially was  sadly  verified,  when  Eliza,  daughter  of 
our  neighbour  Eichard  Grattan,  after  undergoing  much 
anxiety  and  fatigue  in  attending  the  younger  part  of 
the  family  in  that  fever  which  afflicted  Ballitore  this 
autumn,  sank  under  it  herself  after  nearly  two  wrecks 
of  a  hopeless  stuggle.  She  died  on  tlie  20th  of  Tenth- 
month,  sincerely  regretted  even  by  tliose  who  were  only 
connected  by  the  ties  of  neighbourhood.  Most  of  the 
respectable  inhabitants  of  the  village  attended  her  re- 
mains to  Timolin,  where  they  were  laid.  Abundance 
of  tears  were  shed  on  this  occasion,  especially  by  the 
young  maidens,  cotemporaries  of  this  lovely  girl,  whose 
age  was  about  twenty-two. 

The  Ballybarney  premiums  for  the  best-kept  house 
and  garden  were  adjudged  as  usual  this  autumn,  and 
we  beheld  with  satisfaction  the  increasing  beauty  of  the 


l8i7.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  S^^ 

village.  At  the  back  of  the  schoolmaster's  house  was 
a  shoot  of  woodbine,  this  year's  growth,  fifteen  feet  in 
length. 

Our  village  blacksmith  died  lately.  His  industrious 
widow  continues  the  business  with  the  aid  of  a  journey- 
man ;  but,  prudent  as  well  as  industrious,  she  considered 
the  danger  of  slanderous  tongues,  and  therefore  gave 
her  daughter — a  girl  of  sixteen — to  her  assistant,  with 
board  and  lodging  for  a  year  as  a  dowry  ! 

About  six  miles  from  Ballitore  stands  the  Castle  of 
Kilkea,  belonging  to  the  Fitzgerald  family.  It  is  a 
noble  pile,  and  in  good  preservation.  If  the  windo^^^s 
and  chimney-piece  in  the  principal  room  w-ere  not  so 
modern,  and  the  massy  balustrades  of  the  great  stairs 
had  been  left  the  original  colour  of  oak,  and  not  dis- 
guised with  white  paint,  it  would  have  an  effect  more 
appropriate  to  the  dignity  of  the  building.  There  are 
a  great  number  of  rooms  :  in  the  large  one  before  men- 
tioned are  two  tablets,  one  bears  the  figure  of  an  eagle, 
another  a  baboon,  with  this  inscription  : — "  Sidivpiet, 
Cro7}i-a-boo,  1573."  The  ancient  kitchen,  with  its  seven 
ovens,  is  in  the  lower  part  of  the  building,  from  which 
the  ascent  to  the  chief  rooms  is  by  stau's  of  solid  oak. 
The  entrance  into  this  part  is  by  a  great  door,  studded 
with  huge  iron  nails,  and  here  are  dark  and  dreary 
apartments,  the  whole  recalling  the  idea  of  the  feudal 
times. 

On  the  1st  of  the  Third-month  this  year  Betsy 
Shackleton  left  the  school-house,  where  she  had  resided 
for  five  years,  the  increase  of  her  sister  Margaret's  indis- 


c^66  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [  '  ^  I  7. 

position  now  requiring  her  presence  at  the  Mill-house. 
Her  departure  caused  sincere  regret,  and  Hannah  White's 
young  heart  began  to  experience  sorrow,  for  this  was  a 
painfid  separation.  But  already  exerting  her  powers  of 
mind,  which  promised  that  admirable  union  of  forti- 
tude, feeling,  and  judgment  once  so  conspicuous  in  her 
precious  mother,  she  soon  became  reconciled,  and  spent 
most  of  her  forenoons  at  the  Mill,  receiving  her  aunt's 
instructions ;  for  from  the  dawn  of  intellect  she  had  been 
her  preceptress. 

This  year  James  White  attended  the  London  yearly 
meeting.  The  evening  before  he  left  his  boys,  he  spoke 
to  them  in  such  a  manner,  showed  such  reliance  on 
their  honour,  and  bade  them  so  affectionately  farewell, 
that  their  conduct  was  sensibly  influenced  during  hi& 
absence  from  them. 

We  had  a  visit  of  a  few  days  from  our  dear  friend 
Joshua  Harvey,  who  this  year  went  to  Edinburgh  to 
study  physic.  Our  Jacob  Harvey  accompanied  his 
cousins,  Abraham  and  Mary  Bell,  to  I^ew  York,  where 
he  is  likely  to  spend  some  years.  Affectionate  and 
communicative  as  he  is,  his  letters,  frequent  and  full, 
afford  much  entertainment  and  delight  to  his  friends. 

Our  dear,  venerable  cousin,  Deborah  Christy,  died 
this  year  at  the  age  of  eighty-one.  She  was  an  excel- 
lent woman.  She  had  chosen  the  good  part  early  in 
life,  and  it  was  not  taken  from  her.  Left  a  widow  in 
her  youth,  she  devoted  herself  to  her  children,  and 
found  some  consolation  for  the  loss  of  their  father  in 
the  affection  and  virtues  of  these  beloved  ones.     Three 


jSiy.]  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  367 

of  these  she  lost  by  death  when  they  had  pretty  much 
grown  lip ;  but,  borne  above  her  sorrows  by  that  which 
can  alone  support  under  such  privations,  she  recovered 
the  native  calm  cheerfulness  of  her  temper,  and  made 
every  one,  but  particularly  young  persons,  happy  about 
her. 

A  rumour  was  for  some  time  afloat  that  on  the  i8th 
of  Seventh-month  this  year  the  world  should  be  burned, 
and  several  were  terrified  at  the  prediction.  On  that 
day  our  little  world  of  BalHtore  was  suffering  from  an 
opposite  cause,  for  we  were  driven  to  our  upper  apart- 
ments by  a  flood.  This  summer  was  wet  and  cold  to  a 
degree  scarcely  equalled  by  that  of  1782.  We  could 
seldom  let  out  our  parlour  fires ;  the  fruits  had  not  their 
usual  flavour  -,  the  turf  could  not  be  manufactured  in 
the  bog ;  the  corn  ripened  slowly,  and  when  the  time 
of  reaping  drew  on,  it  had  grown  in  the  ear,  and  the 
appearance  of  vegetation  from  the  uncut  grain  was 
indeed  alarming.  The  priest  not  only  permitted  but 
recommended  his  flock  to  work  in  the  fields  on  the 
first  day  of  the  week  after  service,  in  order  to  save 
the  corn ,  and  they  did  so  for  four  First-days  successively. 

The  harvest  was  generally  got  in,  though  with  great 
difficulty,  because  of  the  frequent  rains  and  uncertain 
sunshine.  Those  who  cut  their  wheat  early  had  a 
pretty  good,  though  a  scanty  crop ;  the  rest  was  almost 
universally  malty.  In  this  season  of  dismay  our  pa- 
tient peasantry  forbore  to  murmur.  "  It  is  the  will  of 
God,"  they  said,  and  worked  on  with  pensive  counte- 
nances.    Their  hope  rested  upon  their  stajile  diet,  the 


368  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^^^7' 

potato  crop.  The  oats,  though  less  injured  than  the 
wheat,  partook  of  the  influence  of  the  season,  and  much 
of  that  crop  was  malty  also. 

On  the  loth  of  Eighth-month  our  beloved  Margaret 
Shackleton  exchanged  her  suffering  state,  I  trust,  for  an 
entrance  into  that  city  the  inhabitants  whereof  shall 
not  say,  "  I  am  sick."  Her  funeral,  in  the  fine  summer 
afternoon,  moving  along  the  Mill-field,  attended  by  her 
parents,  brothers,  sisters,  relatives,  friends,  and  neigh- 
bours, and  especially  by  many  young  women,  was  a 
most  interesting  sight.  Her  memory  is  sweet,  and  will 
be  cherished  with  tender  regret  while  we  remain  in  that 
world  which  she  has  quitted  in  her  twenty-third  year. 
The  following  reflections  written  by  her  were  found 
after  her  decease : 

"  It  is  nearly  five  years  since  I  could  say  I  was  very 
"  well.  For  my  unpleasant  feelings  and  the  fretful,  un- 
"  kind  manner  which  I  have  often  shown  since  my  com- 
"  plaints  began,  I  can  only  hope  for  pardon  in  the  mercy 
"  of  Him  who  alone  knows  the  heart,  sees  its  tempta- 
"  tions,  sees  its  endeavours,  marks  the  sHghtest  inclina- 
"  tion  to  right,  and  in  His  infinite  goodness  makes 
"  allowances  for  its  weakness.  What  confidence  should 
"  be  placed  in  such  an  omniscient  Being  !  If  He  allows 
"  our  sufferings  to  be  violent,  or  of  long  continuance, 
"  He  will  enable  us  to  bear  them,  if  we  put  our  trust  in 
"  Him.  But  alas,  it  is  the  want  of  this  confidence,  this 
"  faith,  which  produces  fretfuLness  and  a  desire  to  be 
"  different  from  what  we  are. 

"  Oh  !  if  I  could  but  think  with  thankfulness  of  the 


1 817.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITOEE.  369 

"  many  alleviations  there  are  to  my  sufferings  which 
"  many  people  have  not !  But,  instead  of  that,  I  am  too 
"  much  given  to  complain.  May  I  be  more  patient. 
"  May  I,  at  least,  try  to  be  so  ! 

"  25th  of  Third-month,  1813/' 

My  dear  and  honoured  friend,  Melesina  Trench,  lost 
her  only  daughter  at  the  engaging  age  of  four  years  and 
three  months  ;  she  was  a  most  beautiful  and  amiable 
child.  My  friend's  personal  trials  did  not  cause  her  to 
relax  in  her  consideration  for  others.  She  applied  the 
profits  of  the  sale  of  her  beautiful  poems  of  "  Ellen  " 
and  "  Campaspe "  to  acts  of  benevolence,  by  assisting 
some  charitable  friends  in  England ;  and  our  poor  peo- 
ple also  partook  of  her  bounty. 

The  loth  of  Eleventh-month — the  potato-digging 
not  being  yet  begun  by  reason  of  the  late  harvest — was 
a  day  of  dismay,  for  there  was  a  hard  frost,  with  every 
appearance  of  continuance.  Sadness  and  alarm  sat  on 
many  a  brow,  and  famine  seemed  inevitable.  Next 
day  frost  and  fear  had  disappeared,  and  it  was  even 
acknowledged  as  a  blessing  from  His  hand  who  directs 
the  course  of  the  seasons,  that  this  spur  to  exertion  was 
given.  No  time  was  now  lost.  A  fine,  plentiful  har- 
vest of  potatoes  succeeded,  and  the  di'ead  of  famine 
was  removed. 

Tliis  proved  to  be  a  mild  winter.  In  the  latter  end 
of  the  Eleventh-month  the  gooseberry-trees  were  bud- 
ding, and  the  cuckoo  was  heard  by  one  of  our  neigh- 
bours.    We  heard  that  this  extraordinary  circumstance 


3/0  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [^Oiy. 

was  remarked  in  other  places  also  during  tlie  winter  of 
tliis  year. 

I  was  greatly  delighted  at  receiving  a  letter  from  the 
poet  Crabbe.  I  had  long  wished  to  know  whether  his 
characters  were  drawn  from  real  persons,  and  I  wrote  to 
him  on  that  subject.  As  I  knew  not  his  residence,  I 
had  sent  my  letter  to  Melesina  Trench  to  forward.  It 
reached  the  bard  safely,  and  obtained  for  me  a  most 
friendly  reply,  which  caused  a  sensation  throughout 
Ballitore.  I  was  right  in  my  conjecture  that  truth 
guided  the  pen  of  this  admirable  moral  poet. 

George  Do^vnes,  a  friend  of  Eichard  Shackleton,  has 
occasionally  paid  short  visits  to  Ballitore,  pleasing  us 
more  and  more  at  every  visit.  This  young  man  having 
strong  literary  tastes,  pined  and  languished  behind  a 
woollen  draper's  counter.  At  length  he  was  liberated, 
fitted  himself  for  college,  and  is  now  eminent  in  litera- 
ture, modest  and  unaffected  in  his  manners,  and  has 
lately  married  an  agreeable  young  woman,  a  native  of 
Germany. 

Hannah  Field  and  Elizabeth  Barker,  Friends  from 
America,  visiting  this  meeting  in  the  course  of  their 
rehgious  services,  were  detained  at  the  house  of  Betsy 
Barrington  fully  twelve  days  by  Hannah  Field's  indis- 
position. Their  labours  in  public  and  in  private,  but 
most  of  all  their  sweet  example  of  universal  love,  have, 
I  hope,  been  blessings  to  many. 

A  letter  was  received  by  the  committee  for  conduct- 
ing our  Lancasterian  school,  signed  by  some  of  the 
Eoman  Catholic  inhabitants,  requesting  that  the  mas- 


iSi;.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  37 1 

ter  miglit  be  permitted  to  teach,  the  children  of  that 
persuasion  their  catecliism  in  the  school-room  after 
school  hours.  To  grant  this  request  appeared  to  the 
committee  an  innovation  on  the  prescribed  rules,  and 
it  was  firmly  though  civilly  refused.  Upon  this,  many 
who  had  never  joined  in  our  subscriptions  made  liberal 
contributions  towards  another  school  They  fitted  up  a 
house  at  Thoran  for  the  boys,  and  built  one  for  the 
girls,  engaging  Owen  Finn,  who  had  been  educated 
in  our  school,  as  master.  The  new  school  was  pre- 
sently filled,  not  by  taking  in  those  who  were  not 
already  receiving  instruction,  but  by  emptying  our 
school ;  the  priest  being  active  in  the  cause.  Yet 
ours  is  still  supported,  and  we  hope  will  continue  to 
stand. 

On  the  23rd  of  Second-month,  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  old  Michael  Neville,  who  was  watching, 
with  his  dog,  the  loaded  dray  of  his  son,  a  carrier  just 
come  from  Dublin,  discovered  by  the  growl  of  the  dog 
that  some  one  was  near,  and  saw  men  concealing  them- 
selves beliind  a  wall.  He  called  to  them,  and  threat- 
ened them  with  his  pitchfork ;  they  withdrew  and  fired. 
The  shot  giving  the  alarm,  Edward  Kelly  called  out 
"  Eobbers  !"  from  his  window;  others  repeated  the  cry, 
and  several  sallied  out ;  but  the  ruffians  departed,  hav- 
ing fired  another  shot,  and  burst  in  one  of  Abby  Wid- 
dows'  parlour  windows.  Some  of  the  neighbours  staid 
up  all  the  next  night,  and  the  following  day  resolutions 
were  entered  into  to  establish  a  nightly  patrol  of  re- 
spectablo  inhabitants,  some  of  whom  were  made  special 

24' 


372  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [''Si;. 

constables.  When  Lord  Norbury  and  Baron  George 
were  on  circuit,  they  were  waited  on  by  some  members 
of  this  patriotic  band,  who  were  received  by  the  great 
men  very  kindly.  Lord  Norbury  said  that  if  their 
example  were  followed,  the  value  of  such  combinations 
would  be  very  great;  adding,  that  "while  they  stood 
by  each  other  they  would  be  invulnerable."  He  went 
to  look  at  George  Shackleton's  new  house,  of  which 
he  expressed  his  approbation;  frequently  turning  to 
view  Ballitore,  which  indeed  from  that  point  is  a  most 
attractive  object,  he  said  he  had  long  known  "that  un- 
rivalled valley,"  and  that  it  had  maintained  its  comforts 
and  respectabihty  in  a  remarkable  manner. 

Joseph  Humphreys  introduced  to  us  his  friend  Dr. 
Charles  Edward  Herbert  Orpen,  a  native  of  Cork, 
whose  indefatigable  labours  have  established  in  Dublin 
a  school  for  the  deaf  and  dumb,  to  whose  instruction 
he  devotes  himself.  He  is  a  well-looking  young  man, 
engaging  in  countenance  and  modest  in  manners,  con- 
cealing rather  than  exhibiting  the  strength  of  his  under- 
standing and  the  play  of  his  wit. 

Our  neighbour,  Maurice  Farmer,  concluded  on  join- 
ing the  patriot  army  in  South  America,  and  bade  fare- 
well to  his  beloved  Ballitore — kneeling  down  and  kiss- 
ing the  earth  three  times  before  he  stepped  into  the 
coach  which  whirled  him  away  to  Dublin. 

One  day  I  was  called  upon  by  a  gentlewoman  whose 
countenance  and  manner  besj)oke  her  to  be  an  old 
acquaintance,  though  I  did  not  immediately  recognise 
her  ;    she  told  me  that  she  was  Maria   Lennon,   the 


iSi;.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  SJS 

widow  of  Surgeon  Lennon,  who  once  rented  tlie  Mill- 
house.  It  was  nearly  thirty  years  since  I  had  seen  her, 
then  a  graceful  young  Avoman.  She  related  to  me  some 
of  her  adventures  since  she  left  Ballitore.  They  lived 
for  some  time  at  Kilkenny,  till  her  husband  got  the 
situation  of  surgeon  to  a  regiment.  They  were  after- 
wards stationed  at  Guernsey,  and  from  thence  went  to 
Montreal  in  Canada.  They  had  one  daughter  before 
they  left  Europe,  and  two  were  born  in  America.  She 
describes  the  country  as  pleasant,  the  cold  w^eather 
being  alleviated  by  warm  houses  and  a  clear  sky.  The 
heat  of  the  summer,  however,  is  in  proportion  to  the 
intense  frost  in  winter;  and  one  day  that  her  husband 
had  been  much  exposed  to  the  sun,  he  complained  of 
being  unusually  affected.  His  wife  got  the  medical 
men  of  the  place  to  visit  him,  but  they  made  light  of 
her  fears,  and  he  did  so  himself,  desiring  to  be  left 
alone,  and  saying  he  expected  to  be  well  in  the  morn- 
ing. In  the  morning  he  was  dead,  having,  no  doubt, 
been  killed  by  a  sun-stroke. 

His  family,  now  deprived  of  his  pay,  were  left  in  a 
strange  country  in  great  distress,  but  the  compassion 
and  generosity  of  the  officers  afforded  them  the  means 
of  support,  most  of  Avhich  the  widow  applied  to  dis- 
charge debts  contracted  by  her  husband,  whose  beloved 
remains  she  would  not  leave  in  a  foreign  land  with  an 
aspersion  on  his  memory.  Then  with  her  three  cliil- 
dren — two  of  them  very  young — she  embarked  for 
Europe.  Her  eldest  girl,  about  twelve  years  old, 
assisted  her  mother  materially  on  the  voyage,  perform- 


374  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [l^I/. 

ing  offices  less  suited  to  her  tender  age  than  to  her 
ardent  and  affectionate  mind,  which  was  ripe  beyond 
her  years.  Arrived  in  London,  Maria  Lennon  presented 
a  petition,  and  obtained  a  pension  for  herself  and  chil- 
dren. Eeturning  to  her  native  country,  she  opened  a 
school  in  Athy  ;  from  whence  removing  to  Dublin,  she 
received  a  small  number  of  boarders,  at  one  hundred 
pounds  per  annum  each,  herself  paying  masters.  Here 
Henry  Flood,  who  came  to  Ballitore  school  in  1778,  saw 
her  eldest  daughter,  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  was 
struck  with  her  uncommon  beauty.  Two  years  after- 
wards he  again  saw  her,  improved  in  stature  and  love- 
liness, and  advised  her  mother  to  take  her  to  England, 
as  no  match  in  this  country  was  worthy  of  her.  How- 
ever, he  changed  his  opinion,  and  proposed  for  her 
himself.  His  proposal  was  accepted,  when  the  young 
woman  and  her  mother  had  ascertained  that  his  family 
approved  of  his  choice,  for  his  rank  and  fortune  were 
far  beyond  her  expectations.  Soon  after  his  marriage, 
by  the  death  of  an  elder  brother,  Henry  came  into 
possession  of  £25,000,  and  of  the  family  estate,  worth 
£5,000  per  annum. 

Chance  introduced  us  this  year  to  the  knowledge  of 
a  Ught  shining  in  a  dark  place — Jane  Darley,  for  twenty 
years  a  prisoner  in  the  Four  Courts  Marshalsea.  Her 
cousin,  Moses  Darley,  came  to  Ballitore  school  in  1763. 
At  ten  years  old  Jane  lost  her  mother,  who  was  an 
heiress.  Her  father  had  a  family  by  a  former  marriage, 
but  she  was  the  only  child  of  the  second.  When  she 
was  seventeen  her  father  died.     She  mostly  spent  her 


iSl/.J       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  375 

summers  with  her  brother,  the  collector  of  Newry,  at 
Arno's  Vale,  near  Eostrevor.  She  was  taught  music 
and  dancing,  but  her  education  was  in  more  material 
respects  greatly  neglected.  She  was  sensible  of  this, 
and  improved  her  handwriting  by  copying  any  well 
written  notes  that  she  received,  with  as  much  care  and 
assiduity  as  she  would  imitate  a  drawing;  and  taught 
herself  to  spell  correctly  by  the  dihgent  study  of 
Johnson's  Dictionary.  These  acquisitions  were  after- 
wards of  the  greatest  use  to  herself  and  to  others. 

When  Jane  Darley  came  into  possession  of  her  pro- 
perty, she  gave  way  to  the  liberality  of  her  disposition, 
beheving  that  her  generosity  was  consistent  with  pru- 
dence. She  rebuilt  and  engaged  to  let  some  houses, 
for  which  she  was  to  receive  fines ;  but  before  the  con- 
tract was  finished,  the  person  employed  to  build  them 
went  to  the  Isle  of  Man,  taking  with  him  the  keys  of 
the  houses.  To  recover  these  she  was  obliged  to  resort 
to  law^,  but  ere  the  case  was  decided  she  lost  her  houses 
by  ejectment,  and  was  in  consequence  thrown  into 
prison.  Her  debts  have  long  since  been  discharged, 
and  she  might  now  regain  her  liberty,  but  she  has 
waited  in  the  hope  that  some  situation  may  be  provided 
for  her,  in  which  to  pass  her  latter  days  more  comfort- 
ably than  her  present  limited  means  would  admit  of. 
She  is  desirous  to  be  matron  to  one  of  the  public  insti- 
tutions; for  her  independent  mind  would  disdain  a 
sinecure.  Her  humanity  and  generosity  occasionally 
beam  beyond  her  prison-house  ;  within  its  boiuids  she 
is  a  blessmg.     The  exertions  she  made  in  her  youth 


37^  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1817. 

to  acquire  the  free  use  of  her  pen  have  been  an  inex- 
pressible advantage  to  her  forlorn  companions.  Her 
merit  is  known  to  the  Irish  government,  and  her  appli- 
cations seldom  fail  of  success.  For  herself  she  asks  no 
favour — for  her  fellow-prisoners  many,  and  they  owe 
most  of  the  alleviations  of  their  situation  to  her  repre- 
sentations on  their  behalf.  Most  of  her  time,  even 
what  should  be  allotted  to  sleep,  is  employed  in  writ- 
ing letters  to  serve  one  or  another.  She  is  not  dis- 
couraged from  continuing  these  good  offices  by  the 
base  ingratitude  which  she  has  in  several  instances  met 
with.  Her  disinterested  benevolence  depends  not  on 
her  fellow-creatures  for  reward,  yet  she  is  beloved,  ad- 
mired, and  revered;  her  advice  is  sought  for;  her  deci- 
sions respected. 

She  has  a  little  apartment  to  herself,  which  she 
keeps  with  great  neatness;  creeping  flowering  plants 
entwine  the  bars  of  her  prison  windows,  and  the  walls 
are  ornamented  with  her  own  drawings.  She  also  in- 
dulges a  poetic  talent,  and  her  mind  seems  to  have 
risen  by  successful  efforts  against  the  subjugation  of 
misfortune,  through  the  assistance  of  Him  who  saw  the 
sincerity  of  her  heart,  endued  her  with  patience  and 
fortitude,  and  made  her  an  instrument  of  good  to  the 
forlorn  captive.  In  a  letter  to  me  she  says,  "  Time  and 
"  retirement,  injurious  to  the  graces,  have  a  contrary 
"  effect  on  our  virtues,  and  to  turn  our  misfortunes  to 
"  our  advantage  is  the  truest  philosophy.  That  I  have 
"  done  so  is  surely  doubly  fortunate  to  me,  as  it  has 
"  indeed  illumined  the  walls  of  my  prison;  perhaps  in  no 


1817.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  377 

"  other  situation  would  I  have  acted  so  much  to  my 
"  credit  and  satisfaction,  for  the  sunshiny  path  of  life  is 
"  not  the  one  in  which  we  gather  most  of  our  virtues.  " 
This  worthy  woman,  now  advancing  to  her  seventieth 
year,  is  commonly  known  as  the  Queen  of  the  Mar- 
shalsea.  Sir  Charles  Morgan,  the  physician  of  the 
prison,  and  a  man  of  gentleness  and  humanity,  is  the 
husband  of  our  hterary  countrywoman,  Lady  Morgan, 
formerly  Sidney  Owenson. 

On  the  20th  of  Sixth-month,  died  in  his  forty-fourth 
year  my  friend  William  P.  Le  Fanu,  to  the  inexpres- 
sible grief  of  his  family  and  friends.  He  appeared  to 
be  worn  out  with  his  exertions  in  devising  means  of 
relief  for  the  poor  in  this  season  of  great  distress.  His 
own  bodily  sufferings  he  concealed  till  medical  aid  was 
of  little  avail  ;  but  two  weeks  before  his  death  he  was 
obliged  to  acknowledge  and  yield  to  the  pressure  of 
sickness,  and  even  then  his  friends  at  a  distance  de- 
ceived themselves  with  strong  hopes  of  his  being  re- 
stored to  them  ;  cherishing  this  illusion  till  the  account 
of  his  death  plunged  us  into  grief.  It  is  hard  to  attain 
to  a  state  of  resignation  for  the  loss  of  so  invaluable  a 
friend. 

On  the  night  of  the  23rd  of  Sixth-month,  after  a 
very  hot  day,  we  had  an  extraordinary  appearance  of 
lightning ;  the  sky  seeming  to  open,  and  to  be  entirely 
illumined  to  the  eastward.  One  of  my  daughters  said 
it  was  like  heaven  opening  to  admit  a  pure  spirit — 
we  had  the  day  before  heard  of  "William  Le  Fanu's 
death.     While  we  surveyed  this  glorious  show  from  the 


378  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.        [^803. 

bridge,  our  ears  were  regaled  with  the  rare  song  of  a 
sweet  bii'd  which  we  called  the  Irish  nightingale.     The 
balniy  air  added  to  the  combination  of  delights,  but 
our  hearts  were  too  heavy  to  enjoy  them. 
What  deaths  we  suffer  ere  we  die  ! 

The  impression  lately  made  by  the  death  of  dear 
Dr.  Bell,  my  cotemporary,  my  school-fellow,  and  sin- 
cere friend,  beloved  and  regretted  by  all  who  knew  him, 
was  renewed  by  the  wound  now  inflicted,  and  thus  sor- 
row is  added  to  sorrow. 

The  rector  of  Narraghmore  built  a  very  handsome 
new  glebe-house,  and  left  the  old  one,  which,  however, 
remained  for  a  good  while  standing.  AVhen  I  now  saw 
it  in  a  state  of  ruin,  and  being  taken  down,  the  pleasant 
hours  which  my  dear  father  and  the  worthy  Richard 
Beauchamp,  the  former  rector,  had  spent  there  together, 
interchanging  their  liberal  and  instructive  sentiments, 
rose  to  my  recollection,  and  brought  the  cherished  idea 
of  him  whose  loss  his  family  cannot  cease  to  feel,  and 
of  that  benevolent  pair  who  were  so  beloved  by  all 
ranks  around  them.  Tha  name  of  Julia  was  once  not 
unfrequent  among  the  ISTarraghmore  peasantry,  who 
ventured  to  honour  a  child  by  the  name  of  the  general 
benefactress,  assured  that  she  would  not  be  offended  by 
the  liberty.  Of  later  times  the  descendants  of  the- 
Julias,  partly  from  modesty,  partly  from  ignorance, 
have  sunk  into  Judys. 

We  must  not  rej)ine  at  the  loss  of  the  old  house 
and  of  the  inhabitants  who  gave  it  value ;  for  the  new 
house  contains  a  worthy  family,  whose  exertions  for 


1817.]  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  379 

the  relief  of  the  poor,  in  the  seasons  of  distress,  have 
made  a  deep  impression  on  the  hearts  of  the  many  who 
were  reheved  by  or  who  witnessed  their  unwearied 
kindness. 

The  scarcity  of  firing,  occasioned  "by  the  difficulty  of 
saving  turf  last  rainy  season,  caused  such  depredations 
that  several  were  obliged  to  cut  down  their  hedges 
in  their  own  defence,  to  prevent  their  being  entirely 
spoiled. 

Our  inoffensive  neighbour,  James  M'Connochy,  had 
spent  several  years  in  Ballitore,  boarding  at  John 
Farmer's,  w^alking  abroad  every  fine  day  when  health 
permitted,  and  paying  morning  visits,  sometimes  to 
one -neighbour,  and  sometimes  to  another;  cautious  of 
interrupting  family  business,  yet  evidently  expecting 
that  attention  that  was  indeed  due  to  his  courtesy. 
He  had  much  of  the  courtesy  of  the  old  school,  and 
also  what  was  better,  a  kind  heart  and  a  tongue  unpol- 
luted by  slander  or  detraction.  His  income  was  regu- 
lated by  prudence  and  punctuality,  and  besides  sub- 
scribing handsomely  to  our  charitable  funds,  he  gave 
much  alms  in  secret.  On  the  15th  of  Eighth-month 
lie  walked  through  our  fair,  as  well  in  health  as  for 
some  time.  He  had  long  been  infirm,  and  a  longer 
indisposition  than  usual  last  winter  had  shaken  him 
much.  When  he  returned  from  the  fair  he  was  taken 
ill,  and  died  next  evening  about  ten  o'clock,  aged 
seventy-six,  sincerely  regretted  by  his  neighbours.  He 
had  buried  his  wife  and  six  children,  and  knew  not 
of  having  a  single  relation   in   the   world.     He   was 


380  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  ['817. 

interred  on  the  i8tli,  in  our  plain  way,  in  our  little 
enclosure,  according  to  his  own  desire. 

His  friend  Thomas  Johnson  did  not  long  survive 
James  M'Connochy,  whose  funeral  he  had  attended, 
and  of  whose  will  he  was  one  of  the  executors.  After 
his  return  to  London,  sitting  alone  one  evening  with 
his  wife,  he  entered  into  many  particulars  respecting 
his  affairs,  advising  her  as  to  her  future  place  of  resi- 
dence, should  she  be  left  a  widow.  Her  tender  spirit 
shrunk  from  tbis  idea;  he  told  her  she  need  not  be 
alarmed,  as  such  advice  might  be  necessary  for  her 
guidance.  Not  long  after  this  conversation,  after  retir- 
ing to  rest  in  usual  health,  he  was  awakened  in  the 
dead  of  the  night  by  sudden  illness;  and  before  the 
doctor  could  arrive,  he  laid  his  head  on  liis  wife's  bosom, 
and,  uttering  an  affectionate  exclamation,  expired.  The 
widow  was  overwhelmed  with  distress,  and  had  not  the 
relief  of  tears,  but  vented  her  anguish  in  shrieks  of  dis- 
traction ;  Avhen  a  voice,  intelligible  to  her  mental  ear, 
conveyed  the  awful  command,  "  Be  still,  and'  know 
that  I  am  God,"  and  a  light  seemed  to  shine  around 
her.  Then  her  heart  was  comforted,  and  strengthened 
to  bear  with  pious  calmness  this  unexpected  stroke. 

A  letter  from  Juliet  Smith  announced  the  death  of 
her  lovely  daughter,  Kitty  Allan,  who  left  five  children 
with  a  disconsolate  husband.  She  died  the  1 4tli  of  the 
Fifth-month,  at  Turin,  where  her  remains  were  refused 
interment  in  the  burying-ground ;  they  were  taken  to 
Perignol,  and  laid  among  the  original  Waldenses — a 
community  of  about  20,000  protestants  remaining  in 


1817.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  38 1 

that  quarter.  Juliet  adds,  "During  her  stay  at  Nice  she 
"received  the  most  kind  attentions  from  some  of  the 
"  Barclays  and  Gurneys,  members  of  your  Society.  I 
"  have  always  found  that  from  such  it  only  required  to 
"  need  kindness  to  receive  it."  Juliet  Smith  lost  her 
accomplished  and  excellent  daughter  Elizabeth  in  1 806. 
On  the  21st  of  Tenth-month,  1817,  died  Maurice 
Farmer,  who  had  left  Ballitore  to  embark  for  South 
America.  When  taking  leave  of  some  of  his  London 
acquaintances,  they  wanted  to  detain  liim  longer  than  he 
chose  ;  and  he,  to  alarm  them  into  compliance  with  liis 
wish,  got  on  the  window-stool,  threatening  to  leap  out. 
He  lost  his  balance,  fell  from  a  great  height,  and  was 
taken  up  and  carried  to  the  hospital  which  his  brother 
Frederick  attended.  Frederick  was  summoned  to  a 
patient,  and  was  grievously  surprised  and  shocked  to 
behold' his  unfortunate  brother,  his  head,  leg,  and  arm 
fractured,  and  in  a  state  of  delirium,  from  which  he 
recovered  before  he  died. 

.Early  in  Eleventh-month  we  welcomed  back  one  of 
OUT  daughters  from  a  visit  of  several  weeks  in  DubKn  ; 
but  our  joy  was  checked  by  the  announcement  of  the 
tidings,  "The  Princess  Charlotte  and  son  are  dead!" 
The  account  of  her  illness  had  reached  us  by  that  morn- 
ing's post,  and  I  had  felt  very  anxious  for  her  during 
the  day.  This  unexpected  termination  of  her  life  caused 
a  revuision  in  my  feelings,  which  were  all  joyful  when 
I  saw  my  dear  daughter ;  and  I  felt  a  kind  of  choking 
till  relieved  by  tears.  I  had  often  pondered  on  the 
virtues  of  our  promised  future  queen,  and  hoped  much 


382  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1818. 

from  them — hopes  now,  alas,  destroyed  by  her  untimely 
death. 

We  had  enjoyed  delightful  autumnal  weather,  but  a 
cold  summer  had  defeated  the  promise  of  spring,  and 
prevented  the  corn  from  arriving  at  perfection  before 
the  wintry  frosts  checked  its  growth  ;  so  plenty  had 
not  resumed  her  smile ;  and  now  the  scourge  of  famine 
seemed  followed  by  that  of  pestilence.  The  ravages 
which  typhus -fever  made  in  many  parts  of  tliis  nation 
were  alarming  and  distressmg.  Our  neighbourhood 
was  favoured  to  escape  better  than  most,  but  it  did 
appear  here.  Dr.  Davis  bled  the  patient,  and  had  him 
washed  in  cold  or  tepid  water,  and  I  think  he  lost  not 
one  to  whom  he  was  called  in  early  in  the  complaint. 

On  the  12th  of  Second-month,  i8r8,  James  White 
and  Mary  Pike  were  married.  This  union  gained  uni- 
versal approbation,  and  was  proposed  and  considered 
with  humble  reference  to  Divine  direction.  My  bro- 
ther and  sister  walked  into  meeting  before  them,  sat 
beside  James,  and  signed  his  certificate  as  his  parents — 
an  interesting  and  affecting  sight.  At  Betsy  Bar- 
rington's  a  company  of  about  thirty-four  were  assem- 
bled, and  were  entertained  with  hospitality,  ease,  and 
elegance. 

Two  days  before  the  wedding,  James  Pim  and  Joseph 
Todhunter  arrived  post,  express  from  Dublin,  and  pre- 
sented to  their  former  master  a  very  handsome  letter 
from  James  Haughton,  enclosing  the  following  ad- 
dress : — 


l8l8.]       THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  383 

Dublin,  5th  of  Second-month,  18 18. 

James  White, 
Dear  Master, 

This  accompanies  a  small  piece  of  plate,  of  which 
we  request  thy  acceptance.  Should  it  be  received  with  feelings 
correspondent  to  those  with  which  it  is  offered,  o\ir  wishes  re- 
specting it  will  be  fully  gratified.  Nor  can  we  believe  that  this 
token  of  our  respect  and  love  will  be  unacceptable  to  thee,  in 
whom  we  ever  found  the  friend  and  preceptor  united.  We  avail 
ourselves  of  this  opportunity  to  congratulate  thee  on  thy  approach- 
ing marriage,  which  we  hope  will  be  crowned  by  every  enjoy- 
ment and  felicity  that  can  be  attained  here. 

And  subscribe  ourselves, 

with  grateful  attachment, 

thy  affectionate  pupils, 
James  Haughton  Edwakd  Maguire 

Joseph  Todhunter  Thomas  Fisher 

Thomas  H.  Todhunter  John  Tolerton 

James  Piivi,  jun.  Thomas  Gatchell 

Samuel  Tolerton  Henry  Pim 

Thomas  H.  Deaves  Absent,  signed  by  proxy, 

Stephen  Winthrop  Blood  Joshua  Harvey 

George  Pim  William  T.  Harvey 

William  Haughton  John  Haughton. 

The  names,  beginning  with  "  James  Haughton,"  first 
boarder,  range  according  to  their  standing  at  school. 
The  gift  was  a  large  silver  tea-pot,  on  one  side  of  which 
was  an  engraving,  designed  by  T.  H.  Todhunter,  repre- 
senting a  telescope,  globe,  atlas,  pen,  closed  books, 
and  one  volume  open  at  the  47tli  problem  of  Euclid, 
with  some  mathematical  instruments.  The  device  was 
about  an  inch  and  a  half  high,  and  the  following  in- 
scription was  engraved  on  the  other  side  : — 


384  THE    ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [i8l8. 

PRESENTED  TO 

JAMES   WHITE,    MASTER   OF   BALLITORE   SCHOOL, 

BY  A  FEW  OF  HIS  LATE  PUPILS, 

AS  A  TOKEN  OF  THEIR   AFFECTIONATE  REMEMBRANCE, 

1 2TH  OF  SECOND-MONTH,    1818. 

To  this  were  added  a  cream-ewer  and  sugar-bowl,  into 
which  William  Todhunter,  at  present  James  White's 
pupil,  dropped  a  pair  of  sugar-bows.  Some  of  his 
Limerick  pupils,  disappointed  at  not  having  been  in- 
formed of  their  schoolfellows'  intention,  sent,  as  their 
gift,  a  beautiful  tea-equipage  of  white  and  gold  china. 
There  was  such  a  round  of  social  visiting  on  this  happy 
occasion  as  we  never  remember  before  in  Balhtore ;  and 
when  that  subsided,  and  things  resumed  their  natural 
channel,  their  beloved  master  received  visits  from  some 
of  his  former  pupils. 

An  adult  school  was  established  here  on  First-day 
evenings ;  it  was  well  attended,  but  some  spelling-books 
having  been  sent  from  the  Sunday-school  Society,  the 
extracts  from  Scripture  gave  offence  to  our  Eomish 
neighbours,  and  though  an  offer  was  made  to  lay  the 
books  aside,  this  condescension  was  not  accepted  :  our 
school  was  prohibited,  and  another  opened  at  Crooks- 
town;  yet  ours,  though  crushed,  was  not  destroyed, 
and  gradually  rose  and  overtopped  opposition. 

There  came,  on  a  visit  to  our  neighbour  Torrens,  two 
fine  young  women  of  the  name  of  Hart.  They  are 
an  Irish  family,  but  removed  to  England  a  few  years 
ago.   They  have  had  great  trouble.    The  father  dislocated 


l8l8.]  THE   ANNALS   OP   BALLITORE.  385 

his  shoulder,  and  it  is  thought  in  reducing  it  received 
an  injury  which  caused  his  sudden  death — while  sitting 
at  breakfast  and  apparently  recovering  from  his  hurt. 
His  widow  survived  him  about  one  year.  Their  bro- 
ther, who  was  at  sea,  came  to  comfort  his  three  sisters, 
and  having  arranged  their  affairs  returned  to  his  ship. 
While  standing  on  deck,  when  the  ship  was  being 
cleaned,  a  cannon  rolled  against  him  and  killed  him. 
Anne  Hart,  a  beautiful  young  creature,  and  naturally 
as  gay  as  beautiful,  was  about  to  marry,  when  her  lover 
was  summoned  to  Gibraltar  to  his  sick  father,  and  the 
marriage  was  deferred  till  his  return.  But  he  never 
returned.  He  died  of  the  plague  there,  bequeathing 
to  Anne  one-half  his  fortune.  His  brother  paid  her  a 
visit,  conceived  an  affection  for  her  sister,  obtained  her 
hand,  and  they  all  live  together  in  sweet  union. 

Anna,  the  newly-married  wife  of  Wilhani  Forster, 
paid  a  religious  visit  to  the  meetings  of  Friends  in 
Ireland.  She  joined  our  Society  by  convincement. 
Her  rank  in  life  was  high,  and  she  associated  with  the 
great.  A  few  years  ago  she  visited  Ireland  on  a  very 
different  occasion — to  attend  the  plays  at  Kilkenny. 
Her  person  and  manners  are  graceful.  She  is  sister 
to  that  worthy  successor  of  Howard,  Thomas  Fowell 
Buxton,  and,  like  him,  advocates  the  cause  of  the  pri- 
soner. Anna  Forster' s  companion  was  PrisciUa  Gurney, 
daughter  to  John  Gurney  of  Normch,  and  sister  to 
Elizabeth  Fry — whose  name  is  dear  to  humanity,  and 
whose  efforts  to  reform  the  fenjale  prisoners  in  Newgate 
have  been  attended  with  wonderful  success.     Priscilla 


386  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1818. 

Gurney,  tliougli  educated  in  our  Society,  had  also 
moved  iu  high  hfe,  and  her  uncommon  beauty  made 
her  most  attractive.  She  was  one  of  those  whose  kind 
attentions  were  so  soothing  to  poor  Kitty  Allan  at 
Nice,  and  she  spoke  very  sweetly  of  that  amiable 
woman,  for  whom  and  for  her  afflicted  husband  she 
felt  much  interest.  The  dedication  of  these  fine  young 
women,  Anna  Forster  and  Priscilla  Gurney,*  who  have 
resigned  so  much  more  of  pleasures  and  honours  of  this 
world  than  most  have  it  in  their  power  to  do,  affords  a 
striking  example  ;  and  the  sweet  serenity  which  seems 
to  overshadow  them  encourages  others  to  follow  these 
humble  travellers  in  the  path  in  which  alone  peace 
will  be  the  companion  of  the  way. 

We  had  now  a  summer  whose  warmth  and  beauty 
even  exceeded  1798,  and  this  was  accounted  for  by 
the  breaking  up  of  the  ice  at  the  North  Pole,  the 
accumulation  of  w^hich  was  thought  of  later  years  to 
have  affected  our  climate.  Floating  islands  of  ice  have 
been  met  in  the  Atlantic ;  our  friend,  Jacob  Harvey, 
was  passed  by  two  icebergs  while  on  his  voyage  to  New 
York,  with  his  cousins  Abraham  and  Mary  Bell. 

*  The  following  lines  were  addressed  on  this  occasion  to 
PriscUla  G\imey,  by  Mary  Leadbeater  : — 

TO  PEISCILLA  GURNET. 

Did  such  a  mind  beam  through  a  homely  face 
Beauty  were  not  required  to  lend  a  grace 
Did  such  a  face  veil  an  unworthy  mind, 
Our  partial  eyes  might  be  to  errors  blind. 
Sweet,  ministering  spirit !  with  delight  we  see 
Inward  and  outward  graces  joined  in  thee. 


l8l8.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  38/ 

In  the  Fifth-montli  our  sister  Grubb  paid  a  visit  to 
her  kindred  in  Ballitore ;  her  friend  Jane  Jacob  was 
with  her ;  they  were  on  tlieir  way  to  the  north  of 
Ireland,  where  they  visited  the  meetings  of  Friends. 
On  the  31st  of  that  month  my  brother  saw  his  four 
sisters  surrounding  his  table  once  more  !  These  were 
always  pleasant  meetings  to  us,  but  they  are  at  an  end, 
and  we  shall  never  meet  again  in  tliis  world ! 

George  Downes  was  of  our  party,  and  James  Henry, 
a  fine  youth,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  character  of 
Elizabeth  Smith  ;  he  was  delighted  to  see  the  spot  she 
had  once  inhabited. 

My  dear  brother,  Abraham  Shackleton,  was  favoured 
mth  uncommon  health  all  his  life  :  he  was  remarkably 
temperate  and  remarkably  active.  For  about  a  year  he 
had  declined  the  use  of  tea,  sugar,  or  any  thing  which 
appeared  to  be  connected  with  war,  as  he  conceived 
commerce  to  be.  He  mostly  breakfasted  and  supped  on 
potatoes  and  milk.  We  regretted  the  loss  of  his  com- 
pany at  the  tea-table,  and  still  more  that  he  forbore 
from  a  refreshment  which  he  was  always  accustomed  to, 
and  which  he  Kked ;  and  alarm  mingled  with  tliis  feel- 
ing, lest  he  should  be  injured  in  his  health  by  such  a 
change  of  diet  at  his  advanced  period  of  life.  The 
valuable  life  of  Anthony  Benezet  was  thought  to  have 
been  shortened  by  his  leaving  off  the  use  of  animal  food. 
But  who  shall  presume  to  call  in  question  the  tender 
scruples  of  virtuous  men  1  If  they  fall  in  this  field,  they 
lay  down  their  lives  in  an  honourable  cause.  My  bro- 
ther now  devoted  his  early  mornings  mostly  to  throw- 

25* 


388  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [iSlS, 

ing  his  thoughts  on  paper  in  the  form  of  essays,  which 
he  wrote  off  at  once,  without  previous  copying  or  cor- 
rection ;  nor  did  the  elegance  and  strength  of  his  style 
seem  to  need  any  improvement.  He  was  wont  after 
breakfast  to  mount  his  little  mare  Griselda,  and  to 
come  to  our  house  with  his  essay  of  the  morning  in  his 
pocket,  which  he  read  to  us  ;  and  often  these  pure  and 
benevolent  sentiments  made  our  hearts  and  eyes  over- 
iiow,  while  we  wished  that  he  was  better  understood  by 
his  best  friends,  seeing  his  generous,  warm,  and  honest 
heart  melting  down  more  and  more  into  that  state 
referred  to  by  his  favourite  Horace  when  he  asks. 

Dost  thou  become 
Milder  and  better  with  advancing  age  ? 

The  delight  of  this  summer  weather  seemed  to  afford 
a  novel  enjoyment,  we  were  so  long  unused  to  warm 
days  and  balmy  nights.  The  heat  of  the  summer  caused 
my  dear  brother  to  throw  aside  his  flannel  vest ;  he 
soon  felt  the  consequence  of  his  imprudence,  and  after 
a  few  hours  put  it  on  again  ;  but  the  mischief  had  been 
done.  His  lungs  were  attacked  with  an  alarming  inflam- 
mation, which,  however,  soon  yielded  to  the  means  re- 
sorted to'  for  his  rehef,  and  he  was  able  to  ride  out 
among  his  congratulating  friends,  whose  joy  was  alloyed 
by  perceiving  the  continued  oppression  of  his  breathing. 
Doctor  Davis,  to  prevent  water  on  the  chest,  which  he 
was  fearful  might  follow  the  inflammatory  complaint, 
administered  digitalis,  which  seemed  to  be  of  use  ;  and 


l8l8.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  389 

though  my  dear  brother  was  evidently  shaken,  and  his 
strength  did  not  return  as  might  be  expected,  his  pa- 
tience and  calm  cheerfulness  deceived  us,  and  perhaps 
himself,  for  on  the  1 8th  of  Seventh- month  he  reckoned 
himself  fast  recovering.  But  that  day  was  succeeded 
by  a  night  of  great  restlessness  and  suffering,  and  he 
never  afterwards  came  down  stairs.  During  his  ill- 
ness he  lay  in  his  large,  airy  drawing-room,  which  opens 
by  a  sash  door  into  the  garden,  which,  I  believe,  he 
never  more  entered  alive.  How  can  I  retrace  the  fol- 
lowing days,  when  hope  and  fear  struggled  for  mastery  ; 
when  the  tender  ties  of  nature  were  rending  our  hearts ; 
when,  selfish  that  I  was,  I  saw  the  deep  anguish  of  the 
wife  and  children,  and  of  my  poor  blind  sister,  who 
spent  most  of  her  days  by  his  bedside,  whilst  I  seemed 
to  feel  for  no  one  but  myself  1  We  had  always  lived 
near  together,  and  I  never  remember  an  unkind  word 
having  passed  between  us.  But  I  will  now  borrow  the 
aid  of  his  dear  daughter  Betsy,  and  transcribe  from  her 
account  of  the  last  days  of  her  beloved  father  the 
mournful  yet  consoling  relation : — 

Seventh-month. —  On  the  1 7th  my  father  wrote  an  essay 
on  duelling.  On  the  1 8th  he  wrote  to  his  sister  Grubb, 
and  gave  her  a  very  good  account  of  his  health.  He  had 
been  for  many  weeks  alternately  better  and  worse.  He 
did  not  feel  ill  enough  to  keep  his  bed  or  his  room,  but  he 
was  not  able  to  use  his  accustomed  exertion  without 
injury.  He  was  patient,  mild,  and  grateful  for  the  most 
trivial  attentions.  One  night,  while  in  this  uncertain 
state,  he  was  heard  to  moan,  and,  being  asked  the  cause, 


3 go  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITOEE.  [1818. 

lie  said  he  was  not  ill,  but  that,  feeling  himself  better,  he 
was  expressing  his  thankfulness  to  the  Divine  Being. 

On  the  2ist  of  Seventh-month  he  seemed  much  affected. 
Being  asked  the  cause,  he  grew  very  red,  and  much  agi- 
tated ;  with  difficulty,  and  sobbing,  he  said,  "  I  have  been 
"  thinking  of  thee  all  the  morning,  that  thou  hast  chosen 
"  Mary's  better  part,  which  I  hope  will  not  be  taken  from 
'■'■  thee."  That  evening  he  said,  "  I  begin  to  feel  the  wea- 
"  riness  of  sickness."  When  we  went  to  bed  that  night,  he 
desired  me  to  bring  up  three  volumes  of  "  Piety  Pro- 
moted," that  I  might  sometimes  read  to  him.  He  con- 
trasted these  memoirs  with  the  worthless  productions 
which  are  frequently  sent  to  Ballitore,  alluding  to  some 
of  the  works  of  the  modern  poets  whose  fine  talents  are  not 
consecrated,  like  Cowper's,  to  the  best  cause.  He  desired 
me  to  read  the  notices  of  John  Aukland,  Thomas  Camm, 
and  William  Dewsbury.  The  following  night  he  desired 
me  to  read  of  several  other  Friends,  and  also  asked  for  the 
memorials  of  American  Friends,  several  of  which  were 
read  to  him.  He  asked  particularly  for  John  Woolman, 
Anthony  Benezet,  and  William  Hunt. 

On  the  25th  he  was  very  weak  and  ill,  and  was  kept 
mostly  in  the  dark,  but  in  the  evening  he  desired  the  win- 
dows to  be  opened,  saying  he  wanted  to  see  the  glory  of 
nature.  On  the  26th  some  passages  of  Fenelon  and  Gnion 
were  read  to  him,  to  his  satisfaction ;  he  made  some  slight 
observation  concerning  their  superstition,  adding  that  it 
was  no  wonder.  Several  of  the  Psalms  were  read  to  him 
on  the  same  day,  which  he  appeared  to  feel  much,  and 
sometimes  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

On  the  27th  he  was  thought  better.  He  observed  that 
it  was  strange  that  he  did  not  gain  strength,  seeing  that 
the  weather  was  fine,  and  that  we  said  he  had  slept.     He 


l8l8.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  39 1 

was  answered  that  some  people  who  were  feverish  were 
too  weak  to  move  without  help.  He  then  said,  "  Oh  !  I 
*'  have  no  right  to  complain  ;  Providence  has  been  very 
"  good  to  me."  His  breathing  growing  worse,  and  weak- 
ness increasing,  he  suffered  much  from  weariness,  and 
used  to  move  from  his  bed  to  an  easy  chair  or  sofa,  or 
another  bed  ;  yet  he  did  not  appear  sensible  that  his  end 
was  very  near,  but  sometimes  said  that  he  expected  soon 
to  be  better.  On  the  30th,  Betsy  Barriugton  came  to  see 
him,  and  said  she  would  have  come  before  but  heard  he 
was  asleep.  "Sleep'"  said  he,  with  energy ;  "sleep  is  one 
of  the  precious  things  belonging  to  health." 

On  the  evening  of  the  3Tst  he  said  to  his  wife  that  the 
lamp  of  life  was  almost  out.  When  Doctor  Davis  called 
in,  my  father  told  him  he  thought  he  was  fast  approach- 
ing the  period  of  his  ancestors.  The  doctor  acquiesced, 
and  inquired  if  his  mind  was  easy.  He  replied,  "  Quite 
so."  That  night  his  expressions  all  showed  that  he  knew 
his  awful  state.  He  desired  to  see  his  will,  got  up,  sat  in 
the  easy  chair,  and  desired  a  table  and  writing-desk  to  be 
prepared  for  him  quickly,  "  for,"  he  added,  "  I  am  an  ex- 
piring man."  He  put  on  his  spectacles,  read  over  his 
will,  and  dictated  some  alterations,  expressing  himself  at 
long  intervals  and  with  great  difficulty,  but  with  the 
utmost  clearness,  mentioning  his  desire  that  the  harmony 
of  his  happy  family  might  continue,  and  also  dictating 
that  he  was  fully  sensible  of  the  infirmities  and  frailties 
of  human  nature.  This  was  an  extreme  exertion,  and  he 
returned  to  his  bed  quite  exhausted. 

On  the  ist  of  Eighth-month,  at  three  in  the  afternoon, 
he  expressed  a  great  sense  of  his  sufferings.  He  was 
asked  had  he  any  pain.— "No  pain,  but  anxiety."  "Anx- 
iety about  what  ? "     He  replied  that  he  was  ill  at  ease, 


392  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1818. 

adding,  "  When  I  am  quite  exhausted,  I  suppose  I  shall 
then  die."  His  attendants  were  endeavouring  to  give  him 
some  relief  by  bathing  his  hands  ;  he  remarked  how  very 
bad  he  must  be  when  the  kindness  of  so  many  friends 
operated  nothing  to  relieve  him.  Soon  after  this  he  was 
offered  a  preparation  of  laudanum,  being  told  it  might 
compose  him ;  but  he  refused  it,  and  took  water  in  prefer- 
ence to  anything.  After  this  he  did  not  appear  to  suffer 
so  much.  His  hands  were  swelled,  and  we  believed  that 
the  cessation  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  caused  a  kind 
of  suffering  which  was  indescribable  ;  his  breathing  was 
also  very  laborious.  "  Human  nature,"  said  he,  "  cannot 
hold  out  long  under  such  sufferings."  His  utterance  be- 
came so  imperfect  towards  evening  that  he  could  scarcely 
be  understood. 

He  ceased  to  speak  about  midnight,  and  expired  at  two 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd  of  Eight-month,  1818, 
in  his  sixty-sixth  year,  which  he  would  have  completed 
had  he  lived  to  the  8th  of  Twelfth-month  following. 

His  excellent  daughter*  has  also  furnished  me  with 

*  As  Betsy  Shackleton  is  here  mentioned  for  nearly  the  last 
time  in  these  "  Annals,"  it  may  interest  the  reader  to  learn  a  few 
further  particulars  respecting  her.  One  of  the  most  gifted  of  a 
gifted  family,  she  had  a  keen  insight  into  character  and  much  abi- 
lity in  delineating  it — an  exquisite  perception  of  poetical  beauty, 
and  of  originaUty  of  thought.  Her  mind  was  highly  cultivated  ; 
she  was  remarkable  for  sensibility,  intensity  of  family  affection, 
cordiality  in  friendship,  active  benevolence,  and  a  ready  sympathy 
with  every  effort  for  the  benefit  of  her  fellow-creatures.  After 
the  death  of  her  aunt  Leadbeater,  to  whom  she  was  warmly 
attached,  she  wrote  a  small  volume  of  "  EecoUections,"  which 
was  privately  printed,  and  although  penned  in  glowing  terms  it 


l8l8.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  393 

some  interesting  sketches  of  my  dear  brother's  charac- 
ter, which  may  be  fitly  introduced  here  : — 

Some  circumstances  combining  with  a  certain  ferment 
which  unsettled  the  opinions  of  many,  both  as  to  politics 
and  religion,  caused  many  Friends  to  express  their  dis- 
unity with  some  of  the  principles,  or  rather  practices,  of 
the  Society.  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  who  was  right  and 
who  was  wrong ;  I  may,  however,  venture  to  say  that  I 
believe  the  differences  between  the  leading  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends  would  never  have  amounted  to  a  sepa- 
ration if  there  had  been  more  of  the  spirit  of  meekness  and 
long-suffering  on  both  sides.  I  will  speak  only  of  my 
father.  I  believe  he  expressed  his  sentiments  with  too 
much  heat  and  precipitation ;  and  there  was  a  want  of 
allowance-making  on  the  other  side.  His  temper  was 
naturally  quick,   his  imagination  fertile,  and  his  under- 

is  considered  by  competent  judges  a  faithful  portraiture  of  her 
venerated  relative.  She  also  left  in  manuscript  another  little 
work  entitled  "  Ballitore  and  its  Inhabitants  Seventy  Years  ago," 
which  is  a  proof  of  her  retentive  memory,  her  sense  of  humour, 
her  reflective  cast  of  mind,  and  her  great  power  of  minute  and 
effective  word-painting.  Her  sketches  of  costume  and  character 
and  of  a  state  of  society  which  has  now  nearly  passed  away  are 
extremely  graphic  and  amusing,  and  would  be  found  especially 
interesting  to  the  members  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  portraying 
as  they  do,  with  great  fidelity,  a  community  of  their  worthy 
predecessors  at  a  period  when  all  the  external  peculiarities  of 
Quakerism  were  maintained  with  the  fullest  appreciation  of  their 
importance.  Betsy  Shackleton  died  in  the  home  of  her  childhood, 
the  school-house,  Ballitore,  on  the  9th  of  Third-month,  1 843,  in 
the  sixtieth  year  of  her  age, — and  her  memory  is  still  precious  in 
the  hearts  of  many  by  whom  she  was  loved  and  respected. 


394  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITOEE.  [l8l8. 

standing  vigorous.  Probably,  with  his  talents  and  a  most 
sincere  and  honest  heart,  he  might  have  thrown  light  upon 
some  subjects ;  and  if  he  had  remained  in  membership,  I 
believe  it  would  have  contributed  to  his  usefulness  and 
happiness ;  but  he  was,  in  process  of  time,  disowned  by 
the  Society.  I  believe  it  was  unavoidable,  according  to 
rule  ;  but  I  will  console  myself  by  believing  that  the 
Father  of  all  the  communities  upon  the  earth  did  not  dis- 
own him. 

When  I  consider  my  father's  conduct  in  his  deal- 
ings with  men,  his  strict  justice,  his  disinterestedness, 
and  his  benevolence,  I  feel  persuaded  that  his  mind  was 
set  upon  higher  treasures  than  this  earth  affords.  He  had 
a  most  affectionate,  tender,  and  warm  heart ;  he  could  not 
endure  to  see  a  fellow-creature  in  affliction  without  at- 
tempting to  give  comfort.  He  was  remarkably  careless  of 
the  opinion  of  the  world.  If  we  only  consider  what  is 
agreeable  and  elegant  in  society,  we  shall  conclude  that  he 
was  too  careless  in  this  respect.  I  hope  that  the  senti- 
ments he  has  expressed  in  conversation  or  on  paper  will 
one  day  have  their  use,  though  not  palatable  at  the  present 
time  ;  and,  granting  that  some  of  his  sentiments  were 
erroneous,  I  imagine  their  error  was  more  observable  be- 
cause they  were  out  of  the  common  track  of  error.  A  man 
of  good  repute  in  the  world,  a  really  well-disposed,  sensi- 
ble, benevolent  man — I  will  even  say  a  religious  man,  that 
is,  a  lover  of  religion — will  without  compunction  drink  ten 
times  as  much  strong  drink  as  he  ought ;  he  injures  him- 
self, sets  his  children  and  servants  a  bad  example,  and 
encourages  his  company  to  partake  with  him.  His  error 
is  so  common  that  he  seldom  or  never  thinks  that  it  is  an 
error ;  neither,  for  the  same  reason,  do  his  neighbours  say 
he  is  in  error.     It  is  thus  also   in   politics  and  in  war  : 


l8l8]  THE    ANNALS   OF   BALLITOEE.  395 

great  and  grievous  are  the  errors  ;  but  politicians  are 
blinded  by  interest,  by  custom,  or  by  the  apparent  neces- 
sity of  the  case.  Warriors  are  blinded  in  the  same  man- 
ner ;  yet  the  error  of  their  ways  overwhelms  the  world 
with  calamities  and  horrors.  It  was  thus  with  slave- 
holders and  with  slave-robbers  ;  the  enemies  of  the  slave- 
trade  were  at  first  considered  unreasonable,  inconsiderate, 
eccentric  disturbers  of  the  necessary  customs  which  had 
obtained  from  time  immemorial. 

Far  different  were  the  errors  of  my  dear  father  ;  they 
were  like  shooting  beyond  the  mark — excess  of  benevo- 
lence, excess  of  candour  and  sincerity.  Excesses  are 
always  inconvenient  and  sometimes  injurious,  but  they 
are  calculated  to  turn  or  attract  the  attention  of  those  who 
are  in  contrary  extremes,  or  to  arouse  the  stupid  and 
indolent. 

My  father  had  great  talents  and  many  acquirements. 
He  was  a  good  classical  scholar,  and  at  different  periods  of 
his  life  had  studied  many  sciences  with  his  wonted  ardour. 
I  have  heard  him  speak  of  mathematical  truths  with 
great  admiration.  He  delighted  in  astronomy,  and  lat- 
terly he  was  much  engaged  in  the  study  of  botany.  His 
style  of  writing  was  correct,  free,  and  energetic,  in  verse 
as  well  as  prose.  He  was  a  declared  and  warm  enemy  to 
war,  and  to  everything  connected  with  it.  In  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  he  was  much  engaged  in  writing  on  this 
subject,  and  testifying  his  abhorrence  of  it  by  every  means 
in  his  power. 

His  countenance  was  intelligent  and  animated,  his 
figure  light  and  well-proportioned.  He  was  uncommonly 
active :  at  the  age  of  sixty-five  he  was  more  agile  than  most 
men  twenty  years  younger.  He  enjoyed  remarkably  good 
health  'till  two  months  before  he  died.     He  generally  rose 


3g6  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1818. 

before  five  o'clock,  and  often  before  four,  or  even  three. 
He  delighted  in  beholding  the  rising  sun  ;  every  extraor- 
dinary appearance  in  nature  was  a  feast  for  him.  During 
thunder  and  lightning  he  always  walked  out  to  enjoy  the 
sublimity  of  the  spectacle.  I  believe  he  hardly  knew  what 
fear  was. 

As  the  recollection  of  the  controversy  between  him 
and  the  Society  faded  away,  he  became  more  attached  to 
Friends.  It  was  his  nature  to  forgive  and  forget ;  and  we 
may  also  suppose  that,  making  his  observations  upon  the 
consequences  of  the  schism,  he  found  no  good  had  accrued, 
but  that  in  many  cases  a  spirit  of  free  enquiry  had  degene- 
rated into  presumption,  and  that,  in  avoiding  formality, 
some  rushed  into  libertinism.  He  must  have  observed 
these  facts ;  and  the  sincerity  which  animated  his  own 
mind  caused  him  to  acknowledge  and  revere  religion 
wherever  it  was  to  be  found. 


On  the  4th  of  Eighth-month  the  dear  remains  were 
laid  in  the  grave.  Perhaps  so  large  a  funeral  had  never 
before  entered  that  little  enclosure.  Many  from  a  dis- 
tance attended.  The  day  was  very  fine ;  the  procession 
was  silent  and  solemn.  The  widow  stood  beside  the 
grave  till  the  falling  of  the  clay  upon  the  coffin  an- 
nounced that  all  had  ended.  She  was  led  away  by  her 
son  Eichard,  with  anguish  in  her  looks,  but  no  word 
expressed  it.  They  are  now  separated,  excellent,  lov- 
ing, and  beloved  as  they  were,  after  a  union  of  nearly 
forty  years.  But  she,  who  has  always  fulfilled  her 
duties,  feels  her  rew^ard  in  the  consciousness  of  her 
endeavours  to  act  aright,  even  more  than  in  the  dutiful 


J  01  8. J        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  397 

attentions  of  her  children.  Both  she  and  they  repress 
their  own  feehngs,  and  comfort  each  other,  and  this,  I 
believe,  is  an  acceptable  sacrifice. 

James  White,  though  a  true  mourner  himself,  feeling 
for  the  greater  grief  of  the  nearer  connections,  was 
assiduous  to  spare  them  by  performing  the  necessary 
and  painful  offices  which  belonged  to  the  sad  occasion. 
Ebenezer  Shackleton  was  the  last  of  the  family  who 
resigned  the  hope  of  his  father's  recovery.  He  seemed, 
indeed,  to  cherish  it  till  the  last  day ;  and  then  his 
health  and  spirits  sank  so  much  beneath  the  pressure 
of  distress,  that  he  could  not  pay  to  that  beloved  parent 
the  last  tribute  of  filial  affection,  but  lay  in  a  nervous 
fever  from  which  he  was  long  recovering.  * 

The  weather  this  summer  was  finer  than  any  since 
the  year  of  the  rebellion,  and  was  even  thought  to 
exceed  it.  I  never  remember  apples  so  abundant ;  the 
wheat  harvest  was  most  favourable.  Nature  smiled 
around  us,  but  our  hearts  were  sad.  Where  could  we 
turn  our  eyes  in  our  little  valley,  without  meeting  some 
memorial  of  him  who  was  for  ever  removed  from  our 
sight,  especially  in  his  own  sweet  abode,  so  embellished 
by  his  taste  1 

*  Ebenezer  Shackleton  died  at  Moone,  near  Ballitore,  on  the 
29th  of  Third-month,  1856,  in  his  seventy-second  year.  He  was 
witty,  outspoken,  and  largehearted,  and  was  remarkable  for 
a  capacious  intellect,  extraordinary  originality,  and  imaffected 
benevolence. 


398 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 

1818. 

Anecdote  of  Cowper's  cousin,  Lady  Austin. — Fever  in  Ballitore, 
— Elizabeth  Fry  in  Newgate, — Friends  in  Carlow  attacked  by 
the  rabble. — John  Pirn  of  London. — Visit  from  large  Phibbs. — 
An  old  Ballitore  pupil  attached  in  death. — Illness  of  the 
annalist  and  her  happy  recovery. — Benevolent  activity  of  Mar- 
garet Bonham. — Theodore  E.  Suliot. — The  "  Ballitore  Maga- 
zine."— Visit  from  the  widow  of  Richard  L.  Edgeworth,  and 
the  elder  son  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. — George  and  Wilhelmina 
Downes. — A  tea  party. — Moone  house  and  its  transformations. 
— Death  of  little  Fanny  Downes. — -The  story  of  Mary  Mooney. 
— The  foundlings  of  Ballintaggart.— Burying  alive  of  Patt 
Mitchell's  baby. — The  queen's  trial,  and  visit  of  George  IV. 
to  Ireland. — A  deputation  from  Friends  present  an  address. — 
Death  of  Molly  Webster. — Ebb  and  flow  of  visitors. — Death  of 
Anne  Doyle. — Malicious  burning  at  Ballintaggart. — Gold- 
smith's ideas  of  prison  discipline  verified.— Jacob  Harvey  re- 
turns from  America. — An  interview  with  the  poet  Crabbe.— 
Anecdote  of  Captain  Clarke. — The  prompter  of  R.  L.  Edge- 
worth's  mechanical  genius. — Death  of  the  Bishop  of  Meath. — 
First  balloon  ascent  from  Ballitore. — Recollections  of  childhood 
in  Fuller's  Court. — Nancy  McCabe. — A  new  manufacture 
started         __         __         __         __         __         __     398  to  429 

IVTUNGO  and  Mary  Bewley  came  to  visit  the  house  of 

mourning,  and  their  company  was  pleasant.    Mary 

told'  us  that  when  her  parents  lived  in  or  near  Bristol, 


l8l8.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  399 

having  a  larger  house  than  they  needed,  they  proposed 
letting  lodgings,  which  were  taken  by  a  widow  gentle- 
woman and  her  sister,  who  were  persons  of  uncom- 
monly gifted  minds  and  amiable  manners.  One  of 
these  was  Cowper's  friend.  Lady  Austin.  She  was  very 
affable,  and  would  have  taken  pains  to  perfect  Mary  in 
the  French  language,  but  the  diffidence  of  the  young 
maiden  prevented  her  availing  herseK  of  this  advantage. 
Lady  Austin  told  her  that,  on  going  to  join  her  hus- 
band in  France,  she  advertised  for  a  companion  who 
could  speak  French.  None  offered  so  agreeable  in  other 
respects  as  a  clergyman's  daughter  who  was  ignorant  of 
the  language ;  but  this  did  not  discourage  Lady  Austin, 
who  taught  her  French  on  the  journey.  This  young 
woman  afterwards  married  a  French  gentleman,  and  is 
the  person  to  whom  Cowper  addressed  his  "  Epistle  to 
a  Lady  in  France. 

Fever  again  appeared  in  Eallitore,  and  carried  off 
many  of  our  poor  neighbours.  Committees  were  held, 
and  considerations  how  this  foe  might  best  be  expelled 
engaged  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants.  Apphcation 
being  made  to  a  committee  in  Dubhn,  fifty  pounds 
were  granted  from  government  for  the  relief  of  the  sick. 
Much  pains  were  taken  to  arrest  the  progress  of  this 
calamity.  Doctor  Cheyne  was  employed  to  examine 
the  state  of  the  hospitals  throughout  the  kingdom,  and 
in  the  course  of  his  enquiries  visited  Eallitore.  He  in- 
troduced himself  to  our  Doctor  Davis,  with  whom  he 
had  previously  had  some  written  communication  lead- 
ing him  to  wish  for  a  personal  interview.     There  was 


400  THE  ANNALS  OF   BALLITOHE.  [l8l8, 

no  hospital  here,  but  the  strong  recommendations  to 
cleanliness  and  fresh  air  superseded  the  necessity  of 
one.  Printed  advices  and  warnings  were  distributed, 
and  a  resolution  was  signed  by  the  principal  employers 
not  to  give  work  to  those  who  were  inattentive  to  these 
injunctions.  The  whey  and  gruel  supjjlied  by  the  fund 
were  distributed  at  the  doors  of  the  infected  houses  ; 
glazed  window-sashes  for  cottages  were  sold  to  the  poor 
at  a  cheap  rate,  and  in  some  cases  given  away.  Doctor 
Davis  was  indefatigable,  and  was  twice  taken  ill  him- 
self during  this  period  of  great  fatigue  to  body  and 
mind;  yet  he  accepted  no  remuneration  except  for  drugs. 

George  Downes  and  his  wife  came  to  visit  their  in- 
fant daughter  Fanny,  who  is  nursed  in  Ballitore.  We 
congratulated  that  excellent  young  man  on  his  union 
with  a  kindred  spirit.  Wilhelmina  Sophia  Downes  is 
a  native  of  Lubeck ;  she  speaks  and  writes  English  well, 
but  like  a  foreigner ;  she  is  a  lover  of  Hterature,  and  has 
written  good  poetry  in  her  own  language.  They  have 
also  a  little  boy,  their  first-born. 

James  Forbes,  lately  returned  from  England,  came  to 
visit  his  cousin  Hannah  Boake.  He  told  us  of  his  visit 
to  Newgate  with  Elizabeth  Fry,  who  read  a  portion  of 
the  Bible  to  the  female  prisoners  without  comment, 
but  encouraged  others  to  speak,  when  a  clergyman  pre- 
sent addressed  the  audience  on  the  subject  of  reforma- 
tion. The  poor  women  listened  with  great  attention, 
dissolved  in  tears.  He  dined  with  a  company  of  forty 
at  the  house  of  Thomas  Fowell  Buxton,  who  has  writ- 
ten so   admirably  on  prison   discipline,    and   is  mar- 


1 819.]       THE  ANNALS  OP  BALLITORE.         4OI 

riecl  to  a  sister  of  Elizabetli  Fry.  There  was  much  con- 
ferring on  the  subject  of  prisons,  and  plans  were  handed 
about  to  be  inspected. 

Our  quarterly  meeting  was  held  as  usual  in  Carlow 
at  the  close  of  the  year.  The  last  sitting  was  by  candle- 
light, and  a  rude  rabble  took  advantage  of  the  dark- 
ness of  the  passage  to  assault  the  women  as  they  came 
out,  throwing  dirt  on  us,  lacking  some,  and  sticking 
pins  into  others.  But  they  had  cause  to  rue  this  frolic, 
which  the  townspeople  highly  resented.  One  of  the 
rioters  was  imprisoned  for  a  while,  the  priest  from  the 
altar  condemned  the  outrage,  and  English  as  well  as 
Irish  newspapers  noticed  it. 

John  Pim  of  London  paid  a  visit  on  a  religious  ac- 
count to  this  nation  in  company  with  Benjamin  White, 
an  American  friend  whose  father  had  been  engaged  in 
a  like  service  in  the  year  1760.  John  Pim  moves  in 
an  atmosphere  of  love,  and  seemed  peculiarly  imbued 
with  this  celestial  feeling  while  in  Ballitore,  where  in 
his  youth  his  tender  mind  had  its  good  impressions 
deepened,  and  where  he  had  found  in  Eichard  and 
Elizabeth  Shackleton  a  nursing  father  and  mother. 
Oh  how  did  his  affectionate  heart  overflow  with  the 
sweetest  recollections  !  Nature  and  grace  united  to 
pour  them  upon  him,  and  he  seemed  to  bear  us  along 
mth  him  on  this  pure  and  crystal  tide. 

A  stranger,  a  tall,  genteel,  elderly  man,  with  a  lively 
little  wife,  walked  into  our  parlour ;  the  gentleman 
introduced  himself  as  an  old  scholar,  by  the  name  of 
Phibbs.     Now,  in  the  year  1774, 1  wrote  a  verse  on  the 


402  THE   ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE,  [1819. 

Diurder  of  a  cat,  and  introduced  "  large  Pliibbs  and 
Toby"  therein.  Why  Eichard  Phibbs  obtained  the 
appellation  of  "  large "  I  know  not,  but  tliis  I  know, 
and  ought  then  to  have  known,  that  a  nickname  was 
a  grievous  offence.  I  incurred  the  displeasure  of  nearly 
the  whole  school.  One  boy,  indeed,  whom  I  handled 
roughly  enough  for  not  taking  the  cat's  part,  took  mine 
against  a  host,  at  the  head  of  which  was  "large  Phibbs," 
whose  resentment,  though  not  expressed  to  myself,  I 
dreaded  so,  that,  being  pleased  when  the  otherwise 
unoffendmg  youth  left  school,  I  cherished  the  hope  of 
never  seeing  him  again ;  and  now  the  ancient  feeling 
returned  with  the  name,  to  which,  as  a  dernier  resort,  I 
replied,  "Toby?"  "ISTo,  Richard,"  said  he;  addmg, 
"  I  am  large  Phibbs,"  and  repeating  the  unfortunate 
stanza.  I  felt  myself  redden  with  the  remains  of  re- 
membered dread,  but  it  was  the  last  flash  of  that  fire, 
and  it  became  extinguished  in  good-humoured  mirth. 
He  was  pleased  to  hear  that  Moll  Whelan,  now  Mary 
Casey,  was  living,  visited  her,  and  made  her  a  present, 
telling  her  he  was  glad  to  see  her,  and  hoped  they 
would  meet  in  heaven. 

John  Duckett  of  Philipstown  died  of  a  lingering- 
illness  at  an  advanced  age.  He  cherished  hopes  of 
life  for  a  long  time,  but  when  they  expired,  "  Bury 
me,"  said  he,  "as  near  my  old  master  as  you  can." 
His  "old  master"  was  Eichard  Shackleton. 

This  spring  the  remarkable  mildness  of  the  weather 
encouraged  an  early  vegetation.  We  felt  some  uneasi- 
ness at  seeing  our  apple-blossoms  assailed  by  a  little 


1819.]  THE   AXNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  403 

black  fly,  and  strove  to  banish  the  intruder  by  making 
fires  under  the  trees ;  however,  though  far  less  abun- 
dant than  last  year,  the  garden  produce  was  not  to 
be  complained  of.  In  the  Fifth-month  the  potato 
promised  to  be  most  luxuriant,  till  the  nights  of  the 
27th  and  28th  brought  frost  which  blasted  the  early 
blossoms,  and  blighted  the  hopes  which  the  farmer  and 
the  poor  had  cherished  from  them. 

We  had  the  company  of  John  Kirkham,  an  English 
ministering  Friend,  at  our  meeting,  where  liis  warning 
of  the  uncertainty  of  time  was  so  strong  as  apparently 
to  foretel  that  the  close  of  it  was  near  to  some  of  the 
assembly.  My  sister  Grubb  was  led  in  the  same  line 
soon  after,  when  she  came  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  kindred 
in  Ballitore,  and  to  sympathize  with  us  in  our  mutual 
loss.  She  feared  that  she  would,  while  amongst  us, 
endure  a  wound  of  like  nature,  for  I  was  dangerously 
ill.  Having  enjoyed  all  my  life  a  state  of  health  which 
was  seldom  and  slightly  interrupted,  I  was  better  able 
to  struggle  for  life,  though  surprised  at  the  state  of 
weakness  to  which  my  distemper,  two  bleedings,  a  blis- 
ter, and  powerful  medicines  reduced  me.  It  was  forty- 
eight  years  since  I  had  been  bled  before.  When  I  was 
assisted  from  my  own  chamber  to  the  drawing-room, 
my  sensations  were  those  which  I  hope  long  gratefully 
and  pleasantly  to  remember.  I  was  delivered  from 
extreme  bodily  pain;  I  was  surrounded  by  my  affec- 
tionate family.  I  looked  out  of  the  window — summer 
glowed  in  all  its  beauty ;  the  garden  was  gay  with 
fiowers,  and  fruits  and  blossoms  mingled  together  on 


404  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  [1819. 

an  apple-tree  ;  the  room  was  light  and  airy,  and  a  pot 
of  mignonette  in  the  window  diffused  a  soft  fragrance. 
Wealth  could  not  purchase,  I  thought,  more  comforts 
than  I  enjoyed,  and  I  hope  I  was  thankful.  Yet 
through  all  the  attentions  and  comforts  which  I  ex- 
peiienced  the  idea  of  my  beloved  brother  would  come 
pensively  over  my  mind.  I  seemed  to  look  around  for 
his  endearing  sympathy,  liis  instructive  and  delightful 
converse,  which  I  had  often  found  so  soothing  in  sick- 
ness and  in  sorrow.  Never  can  I  forget  the  time  wdien, 
at  ten  years  old,  I  had  the  ague,  nor  his  visits  every 
evening  to  draw  a  picture  for  me  in  a  little  book  which 
he  had  made  for  the  purpose.  That  book,  preserved 
with  care  and  often  looked  at  with  great  enjoyment,  I 
am  now  afraid  to  open. 

The  Bonham  family,  having  returned  from  their 
northern  tour,  became  our  neighbours,  and  kept  up  a 
friendly  social  intercourse  with  us  ;  yet  I  believe  John 
Bonham's  feeling  heart  found  a  vacuum  which  could 
not  be  filled  here,  in  the  loss  of  my  dear  brother,  whose 
tastes  and  benevolence  so  coincided  with  his  own.  Mar- 
garet Bonham  appears  to  value  life  and  all  its  comforts 
only  as  it  gives  her  power  to  do  good.  The  activity  of 
her  nature  urges  or  drags  on  those  who  are  of  feebler 
force.  Disregarding  weather,  she  walks  about  in  pat- 
tens, or  rides  on  horseback  with  a  servant  walking 
beside  her,  inspecting  the  situation  of  the  poor,  and 
thoughtful  to  assist  them  by  promoting  that  indepen- 
dence which  springs  from  industry.  She  encouraged  us 
to  raise  a  fund^  by  subscribing  one  penny  per  week  to 


1 820.]         THE  ANNALS  OF  BaLLITORE.  405 

purchase  wool  and  flax  to  employ  the  very  poor,  herself 
subscribing  largely.  Our  schools  were  a  principal  object 
of  her  attention,  and  her  penetration  soon  discovered 
where  defects  lay  and  how  they  should  be  remedied. 
She  visited  the  schools  at  Abbeyleix,  taking  in  her 
train  Harriet  Le  Fanu,  Betsy  and  Mary  Shackleton, 
Lydia  Jane  Leadbeater,  and  James  White.  That 
true  nobleman,  Lord  De  Yesci,  patronizes  and  promotes 
these  schools,  one  of  which  is  for  the  children  of 
the  wealthy,  who  pay  one  hundred  guineas  annually  ; 
several  teachers  are  employed,  and  the  science  of  gym- 
nastics makes  a  part  of  their  education.  Curiosity 
has  been  found  so  troublesome  at  this  school,  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  gain  admittance,  though  James  White  was 
invited  to  spend  a  day  there,  which  he  afterwards  did, 
much  to  his  satisfaction.  To  see  this  school  was  not 
Margaret  Bonham's  object ;  it  was  that  for  the  poor 
drew  her  to  Abbeyleix,  where  one  hundred  and  twenty 
children  are  taught  on  the  plan  of  Pestalozzi,  and  where 
their  time  is  fully  occupied,  their  attention  constantly 
engaged,  and  their  faculties  kept  active ;  showing  the 
excellence  of  a  system  which  enables  them  to  calculate 
with  such  admirable  facility  and  precision,  while  their 
eyes  sparkle  with  intelligence  and  their  cheeks  glow 
with  animation. 

The  year  1820  began  in  frost  and  snow,  which  lasted 
nearly  six  weeks.  The  weather  was  for  most  part  of 
the  time  pleasant,  and  the  sunbeams  showed  to  advan- 
tage the  beautiful  incrustations  with  which  the  frost 
invested  every  branch  and  spray.     We  could  turn  our 


406  THE    ANNALS    OF   BALLITOEE.  [1820. 

small  milk-pans  upside  down  in  the  dairy,  without 
fearing  to  lose  a  drop  of  the  contents,  and  iced  cream 
was  served  to  us  daily. 

Theodore  Eugene  Suliot,  a  native  of  Paris,  now  be- 
came for  a  time  an  inhabitant  of  Ballitore,  liis  services 
being  secured  by  James  A¥hite  as  his  assistant  in  the 
school  He  had  spent  four  years  at  Glasgow  university, 
and  obtained  the  distinction  of  ISIaster  of  Arts. 

Captain  Grattan's  son  Henry,  assisted  by  Richard 
Davis  Webb,  commenced  the  "  Ballitore  Magazine," 
and,  on  his  leaving  his  native  land  to  join  his  brother 
in  New  York,  Theodore  Eugene  Suliot  supplied  his 
place  as  editor.  To  the  first  number  was  prefixed  an 
appropriate  and  affectionate  dedication  to  James  White. 
These  fruits  of  early  talent,  many  of  which  displayed 
excellent  moral  sentiments,  afforded  delight  to  some 
readers  ;  wliile  others  looked  on  them  with  a  less  in- 
dulgent eye,  fearing  that  more  important  matters  might 
be  neglected  for  such  flights  of  fancy.  Genius  is 
modest,  sensitive,  and  easily  discouraged  ;  the  opinion 
of  the  graver  readers  prevailed,  and  the  little  work 
was  discontinued.  These  volumes  were  afterwards 
published. 

The  widow  of  Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth,  with  her 
young  daughter  and  little  son,  being  on  a  journey, 
walked  down  from  the  inn  to  see  me.  She  is  a  very 
pleasing  woman,  j)ossessing  that  simplicity  and  ease  of 
manner  which  so  frequently  attend  a  superior  mind. 

The  1 8th  regiment  of  Hussars  halted  at  Ballitore  on 
their  march,  and  a  soldier  called  for  a  newspaper  directed 


l820.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  407 

to  Cornet  Walter  Scott.  We  inquired  if  he  was  the 
poet's  son.  "  He  is  the  poet's  son,"  was  the  reply ;  and 
my  husband  sent  a  request  to  him  that  if  he  came 
doAvn  to  the  village  he  would  call  upon  us.  His 
polite  acquiescence  was  soon  followed  by  himself  in 
person.  My  husband  apologized  for  the  liberty  he  had 
taken,  by  telling  him  that  I  had  once  been  favoured 
with  a  letter  from  his  father.  The  youth  is  tall  and 
finely  formed,  with  an  interesting  and  sweet  counte- 
nance. He  was  dressed  in  a  blue  uniform,  and  wore 
a  belt  glittering  with  silver,  which  crossed  over  one 
shoulder.  This  embroidered  belt,  his  youth,  and  the 
graces  of  his  person  strongly  recalled  to  my  mind  the 
"  Fortunes  of  Nigel."  His  manners  were  easy  and 
modest.  He  professed  to  be  much  pleased  mth  Ire- 
land, spoke  with  interest  of  its  old  castles,  and  wished 
his  father  could  see  this  country.  His  father  was,  he 
thought,  the  author  of  "  Waverley"  and  the  succession 
of  tales  that  followed  that  work.  No  other  gentleman, 
he  believed,  had  had  such  opportunities  of  knowing 
the  manners  of  Scotland.  In  Sir  Walter's  youth,  when 
he  got  two  or  three  guineas,  he  lived  among  the  pea- 
santry till  they  were  spent,  and  thus  acquired  a  thorough 
knowdedge  of  them.  His  father's  lameness,  he  heard, 
was  occasioned  by  cutting  an  eye-tooth,  the  nerve  be- 
ing destroyed  in  consequence.  He  smiled  at  a  descrip- 
tion of  his  father  which  was  read  to  him  from  a  letter 
of  Thomas  Fisher,  and  said  it  was  correct;  remarking 
that  the  heaviness  of  Sir  Walter's  countenance  is  dis- 
pelled by  its  animated  expression  when  he  enoages  in 


4o8  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1820. 

conversation.  He  told  us,  among  other  things,  that  his 
father  never  saw  Melrose  by  moonlight. 

Our  friend  George  Downes,  having  been  attacked 
with  a  cough  and  spitting  of  blood,  was  ordered  by 
Dr.  Perceval  to  the  north  of  Germany.  Before  he 
undertook  so  long  a  journey,  he  made  trial  of  the  air  of 
Ballitore,  spending  about  a  week  in  the  Cottage,  accom- 
panied by  his  excellent  Wilhelmina.  We  were  alarmed 
on  his  account,  and  much  as  we  loved  his  society,  we 
did  not  wish  him  to  defer  trying  the  means  recom- 
mended. To  Germany  they  went.  It  was  his  wife's 
native  land,  and  she  had  the  gratification  of  introducing 
her  husband  to  her  family  and  friends,  and  of  perceiving 
how  soon  he  won  their  love  and  admiration,  not  more 
by  the  lustre  of  his  talents  than  by  the  simplicity  of 
his  manners  and  the  sincerity  of  his  heart. 

On  the  26th  of  Seventh-month  James  White's  boys 
borrowed  the  untenanted  Cottage  from  their  master,  and 
invited  some  of  their  friends  to  a  party  there.  I  es- 
teemed it  an  honour  to  be  one  of  those  invited.  Their 
beloved  master  and  mistress,  with  Sally  and  Hannah 
White,  were  the  foremost  guests  in  rank  and  affection. 
Happy  change  of  time  and  manners,  when  perfect 
love  casteth  out  fear  !  Fifteen  boys,  including  Theo- 
dore E.  Suliot,  were  our  hosts.  They  were  dressed  in 
their  best,  and  their  countenances  were  radiant  with 
■  delight.  After  our  repast  at  a  plentiful  and  well- 
arranged  tea-table,  we  took  a  walk  to  the  river  side, 
enjoying  the  calm  of  a  sweet  summer's  evening ;  and 
on  returning  to  the  Cottage  parlour  found  the  table 


1 820.]  THE   ANNALS   OF    BALLITORE.  409 

again  spread,  and  a  variety  of  fruits  were  handed  round 
mtli  cordial  and  pressing  attention.  There  was  no 
affectation  of  kindness  ;  it  emanated  from  warm,  un- 
practised hearts,  from  which  the  fresh  bloom  of  candid 
youth  was  not  rubbed  off  by  contact  with  the  world. 
The  sensations  of  their  seniors  were  very  delightful ; 
to  me,  the  oldest  of  the  company,  they  were  perhaps  as 
much  so  as  to  those  whose  perceptions  were  more  lively, 
and  not  the  less  so  for  the  tender  recollections  which 
mingled  with  them.  Oh  !  how  did  the  idea  of  the  as- 
sociates of  my  youth  float  before  my  mind,  bringing  in 
succession  the  remembrance  of  many  whose  childhood 
promised  as  fair  for  length  of  days  as  my  own,  but  who 
have  long  since  entered  into  another  state  of  being. 

The  scenery  around  Ballitore  has  undergone  the 
changes  incident  to  time.  Many  of  the  trees  surround- 
ing Counsellor  Ashe's  tomb,  on  a  hill  near  Moone,  have 
been  cut  dowai.  Moone  House,  the  residence  of  the 
late  Samuel  Yeates,  has  become  a  ruin,  though  built 
with  a  view  to  durability.  It  was  the  object  of  my  ad- 
miration in  my  childhood,  when  I  journeyed  so  far  [two 
miles]  from  Ballitore.  The  little  boat  on  the  water 
fronting  the  hall-door ;  the  leaden  statues  of  Harlequin 
and  Columbine,  of  Doctor  Faustus  and  the  Devil,  placed 
on  low  walls  on  either  side  of  the  house;  the  adjoining 
ruins  of  Moone  Abbey;  the  tower  used  as  a  pigeon- 
}iouse — all  made  it  appear  to  me  a  most  desirable 
abode.  Alas,  the  change !  Tom  Watts,  attached  to  the 
Yeates  family,  told  me  with  much  concern  that  none  of 
the  house  was  left  standing   "  except  a  bit  of  the  roof." 


4IO  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  [182I. 

Samuel  Yeates  bequeathed  the  house  to  his  widow,  the 
land  to  his  son  by  his  first  wife.  They  are  opposed  to 
each  other.  The  widow  having  refused  the  offer  of 
her  stepson  to  purchase  the  house,  he  took  means,  by 
building  a  wall  against  the  back-door,  to  prevent  her 
living  in  or  letting  it,  and  consequently  it  fell  to  decay. 
She  then  made  a  present  of  it  to  one  of  her  old  ser- 
vants, who  is  now  selling  the  materials.  Harlequin 
and  Columbine  have  long  since  deserted  a  place  no 
longer  the  abode  of  mirth ;  Doctor  Faustus  stands  nose- 
less in  Boakefield  yard ;  we  do  not  enquire  where  the 
other  personage  has  retired  to,  but  turn  our  eyes  from 
the  scene  of  desolation. 

On  the  first  day  of  1821,  at  a  quarterly  meeting  in 
Carlo w,  Betsy  Barrington  spoke  as  a  minister  in  the 
women's  meeting.  She  is  worthy  to  fill  this  ofhce,  and 
has  long  been  a  preacher  in  life  and  conversation. 

Sometimes  we  escape  the  waves  which  threaten  to 
swallow  us  up;  at  other  times  we  are  nearly  over- 
whelmed beneath  them.  They  beat  hard  U230n  the 
bark  which  held  much  of  George  Downes's  treasure, 
Avhen  he  lost  his  beautiful  little  daughter  by  the  care- 
lessness of  her  nurse,  who,  going  from  her  cabin  (in 
the  fields  between  Ballitore  and  Willowbrook),  left 
Fanny  in  care  of  her  own  little  boy,  and  with  so  little 
fire  as  she  thought  secured  the  children  from  danger. 
But  a  spark  suf&ced  to  do  the  business.  Betsy  Barring- 
ton  took  the  nurse  and  child  to  her  own  house,  where 
every  attention  was  paid,  and  the  sufferings  of  the  dear 
babe  perhaps  alleviated.    She  lived  about  eighteen  hours 


l82  1.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  4II 

after  the  accident.  Her  parents  were  about  getting  her 
home,  as  she  was  nearly  three  years  old.  They  came 
the  day  after  her  death,  and  had  her  laid  in  our  grave- 
yard. They  felt  this  grievous  affliction  with  all  its 
aggravations,  but  they  bore  it  like  Christians ;  they  sent 
their  forgiveness  to  the  nurse,  with  a  present  beside  her 
wages,  but  requested  that  they  might  not  see  her.  The 
poor  woman  seemed  as  if  she  could  scarcely  survive 
the  calamity,  and  with  her  family  left  Ballitore  soon 
after.  Sadness  was  spread  over  the  village,  and  my 
husband's  and  my  own  wound  was  opened  by  a  sor- 
row so  like  our  oAvn.  After  George  Do^vues  returned 
to  the  duties  of  the  school  where  he  assists,  a  boy  was 
reciting  his  lesson  to  him,  where  Demosthenes  was 
censured  for  his  intemperate  joy  on  the  downfall  of 
PhiHp,  as  it  was  the  seventh  day  after  his  own  daughter's 
death.  The  lad  evaded  this  by  saying,  "a  domestic 
calamity."  I  wish  I  knew  the  name  of  that  kindhearted 
youth,  whose  delicate  and  quick  perception  gives  such 
a  fair  hope  for  his  future  character. 

An  attack  on  Ballintaggart  farm,  held  by  John  Fahy 
under  John  Bonham,  by  which  an  outhouse  and  four 
head  of  young  cattle  were  burnt,  caused  a  revival  of 
our  Ballitore  patrol.  These  guardians  of  the  peace  were 
soon  superseded  by  the  police,  who  Avere  stationed 
here,  at  Timolin,  and  at  Narraghmore.  Their  major 
was  the  son  of  James  Xapper  Tandy,  who  was  my  peace- 
able grandfather's  pupil,  and  was  afterwards  so  conspi- 
cuous in  the  disturbances  of  1 798. 

Some  years  ago  a  basket-woman  died  here,  leaving 


412  THE    ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [182I. 

her  little  daughter,  Mary  Mooney,  unprotected.  Mary 
Davis  and  Sarah  Leadbeater,  children  themselves,  took 
the  child  into  their  care,  and  raised  a  subscription 
which  boarded,  clothed,  and  schooled  her,  till  Fanny 
Bewley  took  her  to  assist  her  servant.  Afterwards  she 
lived  with  Thomas  Barrington,  and  grew  tall  and  hand- 
some. From  thence  she  went  to  Waterford,  where  she 
fell  into  a  consumption,  and  the  kind  family  in  which 
she  was  a  servant,  after  having  done  much  for  her  re- 
covery, yielded  to  her  desire  of  returning  to  tliis  place. 
She  could  not  claim  a  home,  she  was  an  illegitimate 
child,  and  her  father  had  a  family  born  in  wedlock. 
To  his  house  she  went ;  he  w^as  a  farmer  in  struggling 
circumstances,  and  was  then  from  home.  She  was  ad- 
mitted, but  could  not  expect  to  be  welcome  to  her 
father's  wife,  though  one  of  the  daughters  shewed  ten- 
derness to  her.  Betsy  Barrington  got  her  removed 
hither  and  placed  with  Fanny  Lyons,  who  accom- 
modated her  very  comfortably.  Her  wages  paid  for 
her  lodging,  and  Betsy  Barrington  and  Mary  White 
supported  her  till  her  death.  Mary  Davis  and  Sarah 
Leadbeater  having  a  portion  of  the  money  collected 
for  her  in  their  hands,  on  the  establishment  of  the 
savings'  bank  here  this  year,  placed  it  therein,  and  this 
afforded  wherewithal  to  answer  the  expenses  of  her 
interment.  Young,  beautiful,  inclined  to  be  vain,  and 
unprotected  by  a  parent,  we  acknowledge  that  a  pro- 
vidential care  had  been  extended  in  life  and  in  death 
over  this  fair  blossom,  which  was  cropped  before  a 
blight  had  fallen  upon  it. 


l82I.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  413 

A  schoolhouse  had  been  built  at  Ballintaggart,  judi- 
ciously planned  by  Margaret  Bonham,  and  conducted 
under  lier  own  and  her  sister's  inspection.  This  excel- 
lent woman  has  exerted  her  influence  with  the  governors 
of  the  Foundling  Hospital,  to  rescue  the  orphan  children 
in  her  neighbourhood  from  situations  unfavourable  to 
mind  and  body.  She  has  placed  them  in  decent  cot- 
tages, under  the  care  of  respectable  peasant  matrons, 
where  they  may  acquire  habits  of  order  and  industry. 
She  obtains  for  these  women  the  allowance  for  their 
board,  clothing,  and  schooling.  They  are  obliged  to 
send  them  to  school,  herseK  and  her  sister  taking  care 
that  they  are  done  justice  to,  and  at  a  suitable  time  they 
are  apprenticed  to  protestant  masters.  Two  of  these 
children  were  overheard  conversing :  "  I  would  not  speak 
to  my  mother  if  I  met  her,"  said  one  little  girl :  "I 
might  have  been  drowned  or  smothered  only  for  the 
Foundling  Hospital,"  said  the  other. 

On  Whit-Sunday  a  child  was  born  to  Pat  Mitchell,  a 
labourer.  It  is  said  that  the  child  born  on  that  day  is 
fated  to  kill  or  be  killed.  To  avert  this  doom  a  little 
grave  was  made,  and  the  infant  laid  therein,  with  clay 
lightly  sprinkled  on  it  and  sods  supported  by  twigs 
covering  the  whole.  Thus  was  the  child  buried,  and  at  its 
resurrection  deemed  to  be  freed  from  the  malediction. 

Ballitore,  secluded  as  it  is,  is  not  unheedful  of  public 
transactions.  The  death  of  our  good  old  king  last  year, 
and  the  death  of  the  wonderful  Bonaparte, 

Who  left  a  name  at  which  the  world  grew  pale 
To  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a  tale, 


414  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLTTORE.  [1021. 

were  events  of  no  ordinary  occurrence.  And  now  we 
sympathized  with  the  unfortunate  Queen  Caroline,  and 
respected  the  intrepidity  with  which  she  faced  her  ene- 
mies, not  knowing  that  the  agitation  of  her  feelings  ob- 
liged her  to  undergo  the  operation  of  cupping  to  prevent 
apoplexy.  We  rejoiced  at  her  victory,  yet  we  could  not 
deplore  her  death,  as  her  future  jJi'ospects  gave  little 
expectation  of  comfort  in  this  life.  Kor  did  we  turn 
our  eyes  from  pictures  of  joy.  The  coronation  of  George 
IV.  was  celebrated  in  Ballitore  by  only  two  illuminated 
houses — Captain  Clarke's,  late  of  the  Eoyal  Veterans, 
now  on  half-pay,  and  a  pensioner's,  his  neighbour. 
General  illuminations,  however,  welcomed  the  landing  of 
the  monarch  in  Ireland.  All  houses,  except  those  of 
Friends,  united  in  such  a  show  as  never  before  had  en- 
lightened the  valley.  Even  a  transparency  was  sported, 
and  festoons  of  flowers  whose  bloom  was  heightened  by 
the  lustre  of  the  light.  Why  should  not  Ballitore  par- 
take of  the  general  enthusiasm  which  the  visit  of  the 
king  to  our  island  called  forth  1  Every  circumstance 
attending  his  landing  conveyed  an  interest.  The  graci- 
ous condescension  of  his  manners — nay,  more  than  con- 
descension— hearty  cordiality,  so  acceptable  to  the  Irish, 
so  much  in  unison  with  their  own  character,  won  the 
warm  hearts  of  a  people  disposed  to  love  and  desirous 
to  be  loved.  "  He  is  a  big  man,"  says  one  countryman 
to  another.  "  If  his  body  was  as  big  again,"  replied  his 
companion,  "it  would  not  be  big  enough  for  his  heart." 
All  ranks  pressed  onward  to  grasp  the  royal  hand,  freely 
extended  to  them  all ;  and  one  poor  man  who  partook 


1 82  I.]  THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  415 

of  that  lionour  swore  loudly  that  he  would  never  again 
wash  his  favoured  hand.  Countless  tlirongs  hastened 
to  the  metropolis,  to  look  upon  their  king ;  and  Balli- 
tore,  smit  with  like  longing,  poured  out  its  inhabitants 
to  meet  him  on  the  Curragh  of  Kildare.  The  first  day- 
appointed  for  his  appearance  there  was  a  day  of  con- 
stant rain;  yet  thousands — some  in  carriages,  some  on 
cars,  some  on  horseback,  some  on  foot — from  different 
roads,  attracted  to  one  spot,  assembled  on  the  mighty 
plain.  The  stand-house — rebuilt  it  was  said  in  three 
weeks,  at  the  cost  of  three  thousand  pounds — was  pre- 
pared for  the  royal  visitant,  who,  I  believe,  would  not 
have  willingly  caused  the  disappointment  of  that  day ; 
but  it  was  said  the  gentlemen  of  the  club,  not  being 
quite  ready  for  his  reception,  prayed  him  to  defer  his 
coming  to  another  day,  which  also  proved  wet ;  yet  he 
came.  Those  who  ventured  in  the  wet,  or  some  of 
them,  were  gratified  by  the  sight  of  their  monarch;  while 
others,  who  arrived  too  late,  were  tantalized  by  the 
knowledge  that  they  were  on  the  Curragh  with  him,  and 
by  the  shouting  in  the  distance  as  he  moved  off. 

Young  Collins,  one  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  jDupils  at 
Claremont,  addressed  the  king  by  letter,  styling  liim, 
"  Dear  George."  The  kiug  was  pleased,  and  expressed 
himself  so  in  a  reply  which  enclosed  ten  guineas,  and 
desired  Collins  to  be  a  good  boy. 

Addresses  poured  upon  the  king,  nor  were  our  Society 
wantuig  in  this  mark  of  respect.  James  Forbes  and 
several  other  Friends  were  appointed  to  present  one 
from  them.     Their  hats  were  taken  off,  and  they  were 


4X6  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1822. 

in\dted  to  advance  into  the  presence  of  the  king.  The 
address  was  read  by  James  Forbes  and  given  to  the 
king,  who  read  his  answer  dehberately,  and  pronounced 
with  emphasis  those  words  which  noticed  the  loyalty 
and  good  conduct  of  the  Society.  It  was  then  proposed 
to  the  Friends  to  kiss  the  royal  hand;  but  the  monarch, 
mindful  of  their  conscientious  scruples,  said,  "  Oh,  no, 
no,"  in  a  kind  accent,  and  his  reception  was  very  graci- 
ous. They  withdrew  backward  for  a  little  while,  when 
the  king,  turning  away,  permitted  them  to  resume  their 
natural  movement. 

On  the  27th  of  Ninth  month,  1822,  Molly  Webster 
departed  this  life  in  her  ninetieth  year.  She  was  long 
in  a  declinmg  state,  and  her  life  was,  I  believe,  prolonged 
by  the  cares  and  comforts  bestowed  upon  her  by  her 
daughter.  Her  former  scholars  heartily  regretted  the 
loss  of  the  beloved  friend  of  their  childhood. 

■\Ye  remarked  that  Ballitore  is  seldom,  if  ever,  without 
visitors,  and  seldom  mth  all  its  inhabitants  at  home. 
This  ingress  and  egress  of  society  tends  to  expand  the 
social  affections,  and  serves  as  a  guard  against  the  nar- 
rowness which  a  secluded  Kfe  is  in  danger  of  contracting. 
Ballitore  needs  this  intercourse,  for  the  dwellers  of  the 
village  are  so  attached  to  and  so  vain  of  one  another, 
that  it  is  necessary  they  should  become  acquainted 
with  the  good  qualities  of  other  people. 

We  now  resigned  all  those  hopes  with  which  we 
had  flattered  ourselves  of  Anne  Doyle's  recovery.  She 
was  unable  to  leave  her  bed,  too  weak  to  hold  con- 
versation with  her  friends,  and  her  knowledge  of  her 


1 822.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITOHE.  417 

sister's  feelings  prevented  her  expressing  in  her  hear- 
ing much  of  her  own  ;  but  one  night  she  spoke  much 
to  her  cousin  Lucretia  Wright,  and  she  sent  messages 
of  love  to  a  sister  in  Canada,  and  to  many  of  her 
friends  by  name,  expressing  the  affection  mth  which 
her  heart  overflowed,  and  giving  counsel  of  excellent 
import.  Afterwards  she  desired  her  cousin  not  to 
speak  of  what  she  had  been  saying ;  thus  preserving  to 
the  last  the  exceeding  modesty  and  diffidence  which 
were  such  very  remarkable  features  in  her  character. 
With  a  strict  sense  of  propriety  and  quick  discern- 
ment, she  was  one  of  the  last  to  remark  on  the  faults 
of  others,  choosing  rather,  in  a  Christian  spirit,  to  re- 
prove them  in  privacy.  I  never  knew  any  persoii  more 
free  from  the  vices  of  tale-bearing  and  detraction.  She 
possessed  a  noble  independence  of  mind,  which  induced 
her  to  consider  her  own  accommodation  and  comfort  as 
of  no  importance  if  they  interfered  w^ith  her  social 
duties,  among  the  first  of  which  she  valued  integrity. 
Indeed  her  sister  and  she  were  ever  higlily  valued  for 
their  honourablie  dealings,  arising  from  dispositions 
naturally  generous,  kind,  and  considerate  to  all  around 
them.  I  had  know^n,  valued,  and  loved  Anne  Doyle 
for  thirty  years,  and,  having  passed  twenty-five  of  them 
under  the  same  roof,  I  had  the  opportunity  of  knowing 
her  better,  and  consequently  of  valuing  and  loving  her 
more.  But  now  came  the  separation  from  us — from 
that  sister  whose  life  seemed  to  be  bound  up  in  her 
life,  and  whose  tender,  unremitting  cares  for  six  years 
were  probably  the  means  of  prolonging  her  existence. 


41 8  THE   ANNALS   OP   BALLITOKE.  [1822. 

On  the  ptli  of  Third-montli  her  pure  spirit  left  the 
emaciated  frame  ;  an  expression  of  that  placid  sweet- 
ness which  calmed  her  weary  hours  remaining  on  the 
pale  countenance.* 

*  Mary  Doyle  survived  this  sister  nearly  twelve  years,  and 
died  on  the  6th  of  the  Fourth-month,  1834.  It  was  in  reference 
to  these  near  neighbours  and  beloved  friends  that  Mary  Leadbeater 
wrote  the  following  lines,  which  are  among  the  most  characteristic 
that  she  ever  penned  : — 

MY  NEIGHBOUR. 

Who  is  it,  while  adown  the  tide 
Of  rolling  Time  our  vessels  glide, 
I  see  fair  sailing  by  my  side  ? 

My  neighbour. 

Scarce  conscious  that  thou  art  so  near, 
Scarce  conscious  that  thou  art  so  dear. 
Onward  my  quiet  course  I  steer. 

My  neighbour. 

But  should  the  stroke  of  Death  divide 
The  twisted  bands  so  firmly  tied, 
Should  absence  tear  thee  from  my  side. 
My  neighbour, 

How  wide  the  vacuum  I  should  feel. 
How  deep  the  wound,  how  hard  to  heal, 
How  oft  to  thee  should  memory  steal, 
My  neighbour ! 

For  while  my  heart  o'erflows  my  eyes, 
And  countless  acts  of  kindness  rise, 
For  every  act  still  more  I  prize 

My  neighbour. 

It  prest  with  grief,  if  woi-n  with  pain, 
Patient  thou  hear'st  while  I  complain. 
And  sweetly  bid'st  me  hope  again, 

My  neighbour. 


1 822.]  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  419 

William  Griffith,  who  is  employed  to  inspect  schools 
and  prisons,  spent  two  days  in  our  neighbourhood. 
He  tells  us  that  Goldsmith's  plan  of  prison  discipline, 
as  described  in  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  is  now 
adopted.  Thus  what  has  been  looked  upon  as  im- 
practicable and  romantic  may,  when  matured  by  good 
sense  and  humanity,  in  time  prevail  over  long  estab- 
lished error.  Therefore  let  the  benevolent  persevere  in 
their  line  of  duty. 


And  when  distress  and  sickness  fly. 
And  round  me  shines  a  brighter  sky, 
I  read  thy  gratulating  eye, 

My  neighbour. 

I  see  thy  hearth  so  bright  and  clear, 
Thy  cordial  welcome  greets  mine  ear, 
And  converse  pleasant  as  thy  cheer, 
My  neighbour. 

To  spread  the  mental  feast  is  thine ; 
The  sage's  thought,  the  poet's  line, 
If  thou  possess  them  they  are  mine. 
My  neighbour. 

Thou  lead'st  me  to  thy  garden  rare, 
With  me  its  treasures  thou  wilt  share, 
And  wishest  mine  to  bloom  as  fair. 
My  neighbour. 

Needs  not  that  each  to  other's  mind 
By  tastes  congenial  should  be  join'd, 
For  stronger  links  our  union  bind. 
My  neighbour. 

Thus  still  adown  life's  rolling  tide 
Together  may  our  vessels  glide. 
And  may  we  anchor  side  by  side, 

My  neighbour. 

25th.  of  Eleventh-month,  i8io. 


420  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1822. 

At  the  time  of  our  yearly  meeting  Jacob  Harvey 
arrived  from  the  United  States.  I  met  him  first  in 
Dame-street,  walking  between  his  glad  father  and 
mother.  Instead  of  the  youth  who  this  time  seven 
years,  with  his  tall,  slender  form,  and  shining  ringlets 
shading  his  lovely  countenance,  was  about  to  take  his 
departure,  here  was  presented  to  our  view  the  stout, 
comely  figure  and  face,  still  retaining  its  sweet  expres- 
sion combined  with  the  grace  of  manhood.  His  heart 
was  as  warm  as  ever,  and  his  former  love  of  anecdote, 
of  which  his  store  is  much  enlarged,  was  a  source  of 
delight  to  his  auditors.  We  rejoiced  over  liim  with 
trembling,  when  we  considered  how  near  he  had  been 
to  taking  his  passage  in  the  Albion,  that  "  fatal  bark  " 
which  was  lost  about  the  time  of  his  landing,  and  in 
which  perished  many  who  were  probably  as  dear  to  their 
connections  as  he  is  to  his  own. 

Our  neighbour.  Captain  Thomas  Clarke,  lost  his  good 
wdfe  after  a  tedious  illness.  This  calamity  almost  over- 
came him  with  grief.  He  expressed  his  regret  and  his 
respect  for  the  deceased  in  his  own  peculiar  manner, 
requesting  the  attendance  of  the  police  from  Athy  to 
accompany  her  remains,  and  to  fire  a  volley  over  her 
grave,  as  he  wished  her  to  be  "  buried  with  military 
honours."  But  the  appointed  day  proved  so  wet  that 
he  would  not  permit  his  beloved  wife  to  be  brought  out 
in  the  rain.  The  police  had  to  be  sent  back,  and  next 
morning  she  was  interred,  the  mihtary  honours  having 
to  be  dispensed  with,  save  that  one  shot  was  discharged 
from  his  own  old  firelock.     It  seemed  a  little  to  console 


1 822,]  THE    ANN'ALS    OF    BALLITORE.  42  [ 

him  when  he  tokl  me  that  his  Eleanor  had  lain  four 
days  in  state,  accompanied  by  all  the  splendour  he  could 
procure.  His  sorrow,  though  expressed  with  singularity 
bordering  on  the  ludicrous,  was  sincere  and  deep,  and 
his  loss  of  a  helpmate  embittered  his  closing  days.* 

Our  young  friend,  John  James  Lecky,  indulging  his 
classical  taste,  set  out  in  the  year  1820  on  a  tour  to  the 
Continent.  When  in  England  on  his  return  he  visited 
the  poet  Crabbe  at  Trowbridge^  of  which  place  he  is 
rector.  His  house,  surrounded  by  trees,  is  cut  off  from 
the  town  by  a  high  wall,  and  seems  as  though  quite  in 
the  country.  He  describes  the  person  of  the  poet  as 
rather  tall,  a  little  bent ;  and  adds,  "  Thought  and  acti- 
"•  vity  are  very  visible  in  his  countenance ;  Ms  mind 
"  seems  to  possess  all  the  energy  of  youth,  though  his 
"  body  is  evidently  losing  it.  His  crown  is  bald,  and 
"  the  few  hairs  he  has  on  his  temples  and  back  of  his 
"  head  are  well  charged  with  powder.    He  talks  fluently ; 

*  Poor  Clarke,  (commonly  called  Captain  Clarke,  although  he 
used  to  style  himself  more  modestly  as  "  formerly  lieutenant  in 
the  late  12th  Royal  Vitherans,'''')  frequently  made  himself  a  laugh- 
ing-stock by  his  harmless  vanity.  On  one  occasion  he  was  in- 
specting a  body  of  haymakers  in  his  lawn,  when  he  suddenly 
thought  he  would  gratify  them  by  a  novel  sight  of  martial  display  ; 
he  accordingly  went  into  the  house,  arrayed  himself  in  liis  old 
regimentals,  cocked  hat,  sword,  and  all,  and  marched  out  with 
important  strides  amongst  his  labourers.  "  Do  I  look  warlike  ?" 
quoth  the  captain.  "You  look  like  the  very  devil,  captain," 
said  one  of  the  admiring  spectators,  with  questionable  flattery, 
greatly  to  the  innocent  delight  of  Clarke,  who  afterwards  related 
the  compliment  to  his  friend  Mary  Doyle. 


42  2  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1822. 

"■  lie  likes  to  argue  a  point  with  you,  and  he  does  it  so 
''  well,  so  acutely  and  clearly,  that  it  is  pleasant  to 
"  argue  with  him.  From  his  look  and  manner  now, 
"  I  guess  that  sensibility  has  been  the  character  of  his 
"  life.  Everyone  about  him  seems  anxious  to  serve 
"  him,  and  his  family  appear  strongly  attached  to  him. 
"  He  told  me  he  never  had  any  ear  for  music.  In  an- 
"  swer  to  my  surprise  at  this,  he  laboured  with  much 
"•'  earnestness  to  convince  me  that  an  ear  for  music  and 
"  a  taste  for  harmony  of  verses  were  quite  distinct,  and 
"  did  not  of  necessity  go  together.  He  told  me  he  was 
''  born  at  Aldborough,  a  seaport  village  on  the  coast  of 
"  Suffolk,  and  remained  there  till  he  was  three  or  four 
"  and  twenty ;  he  was  then  mtroduced  to  his  patrons, 
"  who  were  the  means  of  bringing  him  forward  in  the 
"  world,  and,  by  their  means,  about  this  time  got  a 
"  living  near  Belvoh  Castle,  in  Leicestershire,  where  he 
''  remained  till  about  six  years  ago,  when  he  removed 
"  to  the  Hving  of  Trowbridge.  From  the  time  he  first 
'^  left  Aldborough  he  never  visited  it  till  this  summer, 
"  and  I  am  sure,  from  the  way  he  spoke  of  it,  that  the 
"  scene  of  his  birth  and  youth  '  had  its  attraction  still.' 
^•'  It  has  lately,  from  being  a  poor  village,  become  the 
"  resort  of  visitors  at  watering  seasons,  and  he  said  he 
"  found  it  Hke  an  old  friend  in  a  new  coat.  He  told 
"  me  it  was  from  his  residence  in  this  town  that  he  had 
"  his  knowledge  of  seafaring  men  and  manners.  He 
"  said  writing  paid  him  very  well,  and  money  was  a 
"  great  inducement  to  -svrite.  '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  and  fame 
*  too,  but  the  nearer  we  get  to  that  state  where  money 


1 82  2.]  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  423 

"  will  be  of  no  use,  the  less  it  is  to  be  regarded.'  He 
'*  said  the  *  Tales  of  the  Hall '  deserve  and  have  had  a 
''  greater  popularity,  than  any  other  of  his  works ;  that 
"  the  '  Smugglers  and  Poachers '  was  an  imaginary  tale, 
"  and  was  suggested  to  him  by  a  conversation  with  Sir 
"  Samuel  Romilly,  in  which  Sir  Samuel  reprobated  the 
"  evils  which  arise  from  the  law  as  it  now  stands  on 
"  these  points.  He  said  he  intended  moving  for  some 
"  amendment  [in  the  Game  Law],  and  thought  a  popu- 
"  lar  writer  might  found  a  story  with  a  good  moral  on 
"  the  mischiefs  resulting  from  it.  '  Lady  Barbara  and 
"  the  Ghost'  Crabbe  has  told  just  as  he  heard  it.  He 
"  told  me  he  is  oftener  at  a  loss  for  incidents  than  for. 
"  characters ;  that  few  of  his  stories  are  real,  nor  are 
"  they  entirely  made  out;  but  that  he  has  been  in  the 
"  habit  of  puttmg  parts  of  different  stories  and  incidents 
"  together,  till  he  makes  out  w^hat  pleases  him.  He 
"seldom  takes  anything  out  of  books,  but  all  from 
"  what  he  sees  and  hears.  ISTow  I  was  not  so  imperti- 
"  nent  as  to  ask  him  all  these  questions,  but  when  I 
"  was  alone  with  him  in  his  study,  he  told  me  most  of 
"  what  I  have  written  without  my  asking  him.  I  was 
"  greatly  struck  with  his  unassuming  manner ;  he  will 
"  hear  you  with  as  much  attention,  and  show  as  much 
"  deference  to  what  you  say,  as  if  he  was  your  inferior. 
"  He  goes  to  bed  at  twelve,  rises  at  nine,  and  from 
"  breakfast  till  four,  his  dinner-hour,  he  is  alone  in  his 
"  study, — from  that  hour  till  twelve  he  devotes  to  in- 
"  tercourse  with  his  family,  &c.  Though  his  second  son, 
"  John  Crabbe,  is  his  curate,  yet  he  himself  preaclies 


424  THE   ANNALS   OF   BALLITORE.  [1823. 

"  every  week.  The  churcli  is  just  at  his  gate — a  fine 
*•  old  Gothic  building — built,  as  he  told  me,  when 
"  labour  was  a  penny  a-day." 

We  have  been  reading  with  very  great  pleasure  the 
Memoirs  of  Eichard  Lovell  Edgeworth ;  the  first  vo- 
lume written  by  himself,  the  second  by  his  daughter 
Maria.  While  he  was  yet  a  child  he  imbibed  the  love 
of  mechanics  from  an  acquaintance  with  a  gentleman  of 
the  name  of  Deane.  The  name  struck  on  my  recollec- 
tion, and  on  referring  to  my  little  record  of  the  year 
1 780, 1  found  the  following  account  of  a  visit  to  him : — 

"  William  Taylor  and  Dr.  Forsayeth  told  us  of  an 
"  orrery  made  by  an  old  gentleman  named  Deane  in 
"  Granby  Eow,  and  took  us  to  see  it.  When  we  came 
"  to  the  house,  William  Taylor  and  the  doctor  intro- 
"  duced  us  (my  father  and  a  bevy  of  young  damsels)  to 
"  the  old  gentleman,  who  w^as  sitting  in  his  study  at  a 
"  curious  reading-desk,  which  turned  round  and  brought 
"  him  the  books  fixed  in  it.  There  were  glass-cases  for 
"  books,  with  double  shelves,  one  shelf  attached  to  the 
"  glass- door  for  smaller,  and  the  other  inside  for  larger 
"  books.  He  shewed  and  explained  to  us  the  orrery, 
"  made  by  his  own  hands,  and  was  very  kind  and  obli- 
"  ging.  He  belongs  to  the  law,  and  only  employs  his 
"  leisure  hours  at  this  work.  He  never,  he  said,  enjoyed 
"his  life  so  much  as  when  he  was  thus  employed." 
This  orrery  was  made  after  the  plan  of  that  of  w^hich  a 
plate  is  given  in  Ferguson's  Astronomy.  The  modern 
orrery  is  of  a  different  form. 

That  dear  friend  whom  I  never  saw,  and  whom  I 


1823.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  425 

shall  now  never  see,  Abigail  Roberts,*  died  the  1 5th  of 
this  year.  Our  friendship  seemed  not  to  need  personal 
interviews ;  it  was  fond  and  sincere,  and  I  shall  greatly 
miss  her  valuable  communications.  Her  young  friend, 
Thomas  Noble  Cole,  conveyed  to  me  this  information. 
He  was  her  neighbour,  and  she  was  much  attached  to 
the  youth,  who  was  bound  to  her  by  gi'ateful  affec- 
tion. 

My  kind  friend  the  Bishop  of  Meath  had  been  for 
some  time  in  a  declining  state  of  health.  His  death 
was  announced  at  different  times  in  the  papers,  and  he 
himself  read  one  of  these  reports  to  his  family  at  the 
breakfast  table.  The  inevitable  hour  came  at  last;  and 
in  the  second  month  of  this  year  the  benevolent,  the 
amiable  Thomas  Lewis  O'Eeirne  expired.  A  letter 
from  his  daughter  informed  me  of  this  event. 

This  year  a  novel  object  was  exhibited  in  Ballitore,  a 
balloon,  made  with  great  care  and  ingenuity  by  Henry 
Allen.    His  brother  Richard  came  from  Dublin  to  assist 

*  Abigail  Roberts  resided  during  a  very  long  life  at  Mountrath 
in  the  Queen's  County,  stirring  rarely  from  home,  after  the  quiet 
fashion  of  those  days.  She  was  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends, 
and  having  a  share  of  poetical  talent,  an  active  correspondence 
was  maintained  between  her  and  Mary  Leadbeater  which  was  only 
terminated  by  death.  Although  living  little  more  than  thirty 
miles  apart,  these  two  friends  never  had  a  personal  interview. 
Beside  a  great  variety  of  unpublished  poems,  Abigail  Roberts  was 
the  writer  of  three  excellent  little  books  for  the  Kildare  Place 
Education  Society,  namely  "The  Schoolmistress,"  "Tom  Higgins," 
and  the  "  Cottage  Fireside,"  which  have  had  a  large  circidation 
in  Ireland. 


426  THE  ANNALS    OF   BALLITORE.  [1823. 

in  the  business  of  setting  it  off.  Nearly  the  whole  of 
the  village  population  assembled  in  and  about  Betsy 
Barrington's  house.  It  was  a  time  of  anxiety  to  all,  I 
believe,  w^hile  the  balloon  was  filling,  especially  to  the 
modest  scientific  youths  on  whom  so  much  responsi- 
bihty  rested.  It  was  filled ;  the  hand  of  Eobert  Lecky 
of  Cork  was  taken  off  from  it ;  and  the  first  balloon 
that  ever  mounted  through  the  shades  of  Ballitore  rose 
majestically  and  sailed  along  the  blue  ether,  when 

"  A  shout  that  rent  the  golden  stars  ensued." 

George  O'Connor  stopped  neither  to  hail  nor  admire, 
but  pursued  the  soaring  wonder,  and  brought  it  in  tri- 
umph back.  It  had  descended  near  the  moat  of  Ard- 
scull,  and  was  so  little  injured  that  it  made  another 
excursion  with  equal  success  ;  but  on  a  third  occasion 
it  was  lost. 

On  the  14th  of  Eighth-month  in  tliis  year  George 
Shackleton  and  Hannah  Fisher  were  married  in  Lime- 
rick. 

Our  old  neighbour  and  long  tried  friend,  Abigail 
Widdows,  owed  much  of  the  comfort  of  comparative 
health  to  the  unwearied  attentions  of  her  daughter,  for 
Rebecca  was  one  of  the  best  and  most  affectionate  of 
children.  Alas,  now  all  her  cares  were  put  in  requisi- 
tion to  alleviate  the  tediousness  and  distressing  illness 
which  confined  her  mother  nearly  five  months  to  the 
bed  of  pain  and  restlessness,  which  were  borne  by  the 
poor  sufferer  with  a  good  degree  of  patience  and  resigna- 
tion.    Abigail  Widdows  was  left  a  widow  at  three  and 


1824.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  427 

twenty.  She  had  a  well-stocked  shop  and  the  tailoring 
business  of  the  school,  and  was  an  object  to  which  many 
a  young  farmer  might  have  aspired,  did  not  her  conduct 
forbid  any  chance  of  success.  She  was  a  pleasant 
woman,  but  discreet  withal,  and  her  behaviour  to  the 
young  men  who  boarded  with  her  was  guarded  by 
prudence  and  decorum. 

My  sister  Lydia  and  I  felt  the  evening  of  our  day 
darkened  by  the  departure  for  England  of  our  dear 
Ebenezer  and  Deborah,  Sweet  Fuller's  Court  must  be 
left,  when  it  had  obtained  beauties  which  I  could  not 
have  believed  it  in  the  power  even  of  its  tasteful  pos- 
sessor to  have  bestowed  upon  it.  My  mind  reverted  to 
matters  of  ancient  date,  I  thought  I  knew  the  identi- 
cal spot  in  the  parlour  where  I  made  the  joyful  dis- 
covery that  I  could  read.  I  recollected  my  sensations 
of  fear  when  for  the  first  time  descending  the  re- 
markably easy  staircase.  The  sash-door  opening  into 
the  garden — the  wall-like  hedge — the  ancient  yews 
and  hollies — the  tall  trees  beyond  the  garden — the  arch 
over  the  gate  which  entered  it — all  brought  back  the 
scenes  of  early  childhood,  when  I,  a  little  solitary, 
freely  admitted  into  those  walks  alone,  my  imagination 
heated  by  classical  stories,  adorned  my  hat  as  well  as  I 
could,  and  aimed  at  personating  Dido.  These  recollec- 
tions were  the  passing  clouds,  but  the  settled  gloom 
was  the  exile  of  those  whose  presence  could  dispel  the 
passing  clouds.  The  last  look  I  cast  upon  Fuller's - 
Court  I  beheld  the  clear  kitchen  coal-fire  shining 
through   the   bright   window,  since  which  time,   now 


428  THE   ANNALS    OF    BALLITORE.  [1824. 

nearly  three  years,  I  have  not  been  inside  the  gate  of 
the  little  enclosure.  Smitten  with  grief,  I  felt  satis- 
faction that  so  many  years  of  my  life  had  gone  by. 

Oh,  mortals,  blind  to  fate,  who  little  know 
To  bear  high  fortune  or  endure  the  low. 
The  time  may  come 

when  I  should  be  glad  to  have  years  added  to  my  stock, 
to  enable  me  to  enjoy  blessings  for  which  I  hope  I  feel 
a  degree  of  thankfulness.  "  In  patience  possess  your 
souls."  Leave  all  to  the  Wisdom  which  orders  aright, 
and  in  due  time  it  will  be  made  manifest  that  we  can- 
not do  better  than  submit  quietly  to  the  appointments 
of  Providence. 

Nancy  McCabe  had  pulled  down  her  good-looking 
cabin  at  Ballybarney,  and  built  a  smaller.  Women  op- 
pear  to  be  chief  actors  here,  the  husbands  sometimes  en- 
gaging in  distant  jobs  of  work,  and  generally,  I  believe, 
returning  to  a  comfortable  home.  To  the  remonstrances 
made  to  ]!^ancy  on  her  enterprise,  she  opposed  the  recital 
of  misfortunes  which  had  occurred  in  the  former  abode : 
"  Was  not  my  son  smothered  in  his  blood  before  he 
"  could  say.  Mother  V  [He  was  supposed  to  have  burst 
a  blood-vessel.]  "  Was  not  my  child,  that  was  fit  for 
''  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  scalded  to  death  in  a  pot  of  potato 
"  water  1  Is  not  my  eldest  son  almost  a  cripple  with  a 
"  swelled  knee  V  But  what  seemed  to  decide  her  opera- 
tions was  a  dream  into  which  were  introduced  fairies 
and  a  white  lady.  She  might  have  brought  forward  a 
better  excuse  in  the  frequency  of  fever  in  that  house. 


1824.]        THE  ANNALS  OF  BALLITORE.  429 

the  mud  walls  of  which  may  have  received  and  retained 
the  infection.  A  few  rows  of  well-groAvn  larches  com- 
mitted to  her  care  obtained  from  her  the  title  of  "  a 
grove."  Her  garden  is  surrounded  by  such  trees,  mixed 
with  laburnums, — "  The  laburns,  you  know,  that  throw 
their  yellow  blossoms  about."  Why  should  not  the 
same  idea  be  presented  to  Cowper  and  to  Nancy 
Mc  Cabe  1 

An  association  to  encourage  a  little  manufacture  was 
formed  here  as  in  other  places.  Subscriptions  were 
raised  to  purchase  wool  and  flax,  the  spinning  of  which 
was  cliiefly  paid  for  by  articles  of  clothing.  The  terms 
were  low  on  which  the  poor  women  were  employed,  but 
something  was  earned  when  nothing  better  otiered,  and 
it  was  found  a  useful  resource. 


THE    END, 


APPENDIX. 


BALLITORE      SCHOOL      LIST, 


From  tJie  openiyig  of  the  School  hy  Abraham  ShacMeton,  on  the  \st  of  Third 

month,  1726,  to  the  arrival  of  the  last  boarders  at  James  White's 

School,  on  the  ii,th  of  Eighth-month,  1836. 


1726 

1726 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

3     I 

John  Fuller,  Henry 

4  17 

Anthony  Henderson 

Richard  Braddock 

20 

Oliver  Simmons 

Thomas  Braddock 

5     5 

John  Lapham 

Charles  Braddock 

17 

John  Nicholson 

Samuel  Watson 

7  14 

Barcroft  Pirn 

2 

John  Watson 

8     I 

Samuel  Strangman 

Samuel  Watson 

19 

Edward  Eustace 

5 

James  Hutchinson 

9  28 

Richard  Harrison 

Richard  Sealy 

II     4 

Alexander  Shelly 

6 

Thomas  Duckett,  John 

12   16 

Daniel  Reynolds 

William  Duckett,  John 

20 

Joseph  NuttaU 

John  Duckett,  John 

I     6 

James  Fitzgerald 

Abraham  Duckett,  John 

Jonas  Duckett 

1727 

Solomon  Watson 

3     I 

Samuel  Watson,  Solomon 

9 

Robert  Parke 

2 

Abel  Harris 

Thomas  Parke 

2-3 

John  Dawson 

12 

Thomas  Wilcocks 

30 

William  Lecky 

17 

Barker  Thacker 

4  19 

Thomas  Pim 

20 

Abraham  FuUer 

5  27 

Joshua  Clibborn,  Joshua 

4     I 

Jacob  Fuller 

6    5 

Jonathan  Nicholson 

2 

Edward  Fawcett 

7  16 

Joshua  Kinnier 

Robert  Pembertou 

18 

John  Hickinbottom 

John  Pemberton 

8  11 

Francis  Randal 

6 

John  Coppock 

George  Randal 

Thomas  Weston 

9     6 

George  Boles 

432                                                 APPENDIX. 

1728 

1730 

Mo.  Vay. 

9     6     Jonathan  Boles 

Mo.  Day. 

9  23     Walter  Fletcher 

II    18     Amos  Eooke 

10  12     George  Hutchinson 

12   14     Bancroft  Fuller 

12   12     John  Camak 

William  Camak 

1728 

26     John  Chayter 

2     I     John  Watson 

6     Joshua  Clibbom,  Abraham 

1731 

Henry  Eobinson 

I   29     John  Barclay 

3  27     John  Pim,  Joshua 

2     I     Jonathan  Fletcher 

4  25     Samuel  Neale 

14     Thomas  Bewley,  Mungo 

5    1 5     John  Clayton 

3     5     Jonathan  Watson 

Robert  WilHams 

4     6     Joseph  Fade  Goff 

6   12     Amos  Strettell 

7   1 1     Roger  Webb 

8     8     Charles  Motley 

8   14     Henry  Harvey 

1 2     2     Walter  Mason 

I     9     Peter  Eves 

1 

Francis  Peasley,  Peter 

1729 

James  Mason 

1732 

James  Pettigrew 

5   1 7     Amos  StretteU,  jun. 

2     4     Thomas  Boake 

Robert  Morris 

Ephraim  Boake 

3  [     John  Clibbom 

Thomas  Herritage 

6     2     Thomas  McMurtrie 

3  26     James  Hoope 

Henry  McMurtrie 

Joseph  StretteU 

^i     William  Freeman 

422     George  Bewley 

7   23     Warren  Henderson 

5    14     Joseph  Medcalf 

Thomas  Hender.-:on 

622     Joshua  Hoope 

8   15     Richard  Pearce 

1 1     6     Thomas  Robinson 

13     Samuel  Fayle 

1733 

23     WilHam  Gregg 

322     Robert  Rooke 

1229     William  Porter 

4     4     Robert  Strettell 

I   23     Harrington  McCarty 

1                  Abel  Rooke 

5   16     Samuel  Morris 

1730 

6     5     Henry  Pemberton,  Henry 

2   16     John  Higginbottom 

24     Richard  Roach 

21     George  Newenham 

7     5     Walter  Borrowes 

4  13     Peasley  Harrington 

8     5     Timothy  Handcock 

5  27     Joseph  Gunson 

I     8     George  Newett 

Josiah  Gunson 

7   24     Stephen  Fitzgerald 

1734 

8     9     Joseph  Eves 

I   29     George  Best 

12     Samuel  Pim 

3     6     John  WLanett 

John  Fletcher 

Clement  Winnett 

BALLITORE   SCHOOL   LIST, 


433 


1734 

1736 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

3     6     Charles  Winnett 

9  1 1     Henry  Knowles 

Henry  Winnett 

17     Thomas  Camak 

3   1 5     William  Bridges 

II    15     James  Fanton 

24     Thomas  Burton 

22     Thomas  Bushe 

Joseph  Fuller,  Samuel 

I     2     John  Waring 

29     Eichard  Brocklesby 

Thomas  Waring 

4     6     Henry  Carter 

6     5     John  Steel 

1737 

1 7     William  Busby 

2  13     Peter  Pennett 

24     Henry  Graham 

3     2     James  Sparrow 

7     2     Jacob  Handcock 

Alexander  Sparrov/ 

25     John  Newett 

23     Eobert  Cheney 

8     2     George  Penrose,  William 

Joshua  Cheney 

5     John  Turner 

John  Cheney 

22     John  Allen 

4  13     Zacharias  Ache 

r  I     7     Joshua  Allen 

15     John  Butler 

16     Stephen  Palfrey 

5  20     William  Gamble 

27     George  Gardiner 

7     I     Alexander  Strong 

I   10     Francis  Medcalf 

8   18     Joseph  Taylor 

12     John  Inman 

Edward  Taylor 

25     WilUam  Dillon 

»73S 

James  Dillon 

I  27     Eobert  Dillon 

10  19     Thomas  Archbold 

29     John  Fletcher 

II   10     James  Clanchy 

2  14     Eichard  Goff 

1 2     I     John  Charles  Audebert 

3  21     Ambrose  Medcalf 

Samuel  Heamer 

4     2     Thomas  Short 

9     Nathaniel  Watson 

6     Newcomen  Herbert 

I     7     Joshua  Strangman 

1 1     William  McMurtrie 

13     John  Brown 

23     Henry  Ashe 

Thomas  Brown 

5  28     John  Cullen 

6     9     Ebenezer  Pike 

1738 

7     I     Thomas  Pearce 

2   10     James  Eobinson 

10     I     Thomas  Strettell 

John  Gelling 

22     John  Deaves 

17     John  Waters 

I     4    John  Bayly 

19     Patrick  Henderson 

John  Henderson 

1736 

3     I     John  Eves 

3     4     Edward  Kenney 

10     John  Joubert 

4     1     James  Eobinson 

4     3     John  Slater 

14     Wilham  Eichardson 

12     Anthony  Grayson 

5   15     Matthew  Smith 

23     Thomas  Hutchinson 

6  28     James  Diilamon 

John  Hutchinson 

434 

APPENDIX. 

«738 

1 741 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

4  28 

Thomas  West 

S  26 

Edmimd  Burke 

5    5 

Peter  Beasley 

Richard  Biirke 

6       T 

Richard  Howes 

28 

Matthew  Cullen 

7 

John  Featherston 

6    6 

Robert  Pettigrew 

19 

Thomas  Pearce 

22 

Henry  Greenwood 

7  13 

Hilliard  Hely 

7       3 

Cooper  Penrose 

8  30 

WiUiam  HartneU 

William  Penrose 

9     3 

WiUiam  HaU 

6 

Francis  Beale 

11  27 

John  Thacker 

8  10 

Hutchinson  Wheeler 

Charles  Graydon 

9    5 

Annesley  Hughes 

John  Graydon 

14 

Jonathan  Haughtou 

12     9 

John  Du  Bedat 

10  28 

Francis  Russell 

I      r 

Joseph  Walpole 

II  17 

George  McCannon 

5 

Hamilton  Low,  Robert 

John  Murray 

12  14 

William  McCarty 

1739 

I  18 

John  Fonblanque 

3     I 

Trnstrum  Porter 

23 

John  Nevins 

23 

Matthew  Medcalf 

4  18 

Henry  Cheney 

1742 

6  13 

John  Dillon 

I  26 

Edward  Sands 

Christopher  Dillon 

2     3 

Mervyn  Matthews 

15 

James  Duran 

12 

John  Jacob  Taylor 

7     7 

Henry  Russell,  Eliza 

28 

Josiah  Jackson 

12  16 

Wilham  EngUsh 

Samuel  Jackson 

I   17 

Joseph  Pirn  . 

3   17 

Robert  Taylor 

Tobias  Pirn 

24 

Abraham  Robinson 

5     8 

John  Jones,  senior 

1740 

.28 

Edward  Richardson 

2     3 

Robert  Young 

29 

Sa,muel  Beale 

7 

Thomas  Ayers 

6  21 

Clement  Zouche 

Henry  Deaves 

7  18 

Hercules  Libert 

3     5 

WiUiam  Knight 

8     I 

Nicholas  Chi'istian 

4  16 

William  Mason 

S 

James  Brown 

9    3 

Alphonse  Laporte 

30 

Joseph  Deane 

12  31 

John  Russell 

J3 

Robert  Dunckley 

I     I 

John  Lescure 

George  Dunckley 

4 

James  Carroll 

24 

John  Freeman 

•Euseby  Stratford 

1741 

Francis  Stratford 

3     8 

Christopher  Farlow 

12  15 

James  White 

20 

William  Taylor 

28 

Ralph  Jackson 

4   17 

Matthew  Bathurst 

I       3 

Thomas  Bennett 

William  Bathurst 

William  Bennett 

5  26 

Garrett  Burke 

14 

William  Hartley 

BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


435 


1743 

Mo.  Day 

1744 

Mo.  Day 

3   10 

Thomas  Houlden 

10     7 

Gregory  O'Brien 

24 

William  Cunningham 

II     7 

John  Donovan 

James  Rudd 

Peter  Donovan 

25 

Philip  Matty 

14 

Thomas  Harman 

4  13 

William  Morgan 

24 

Anthony  Edwards 

5     4 

Joshua  Ridgeway,  John 

I     4 

James  Faulkener 

14 

James  Wight 

II 

George  Robbins 

28 

Andrew  Thomas 

6    3 

Abraham  Chaigneau 

1745 

15 

William  Harrington 

I   26 

Thomas  Pearson 

7  13 

Daniel  Allen 

Samuel  Pearson 

Michael  Kearney 

3     1 

Joseph  Sleigh 

15 

Daniel  Barnard 

4  10 

Paul  Abbot 

9     I 

Richard  Garden 

5    i2 

John  Power 

9 

David  Chaunders 

6  13 

Crofton  Vandeleur 

10 

William  Kennedy 

William  Coulthurst 

22 

Robert  Colvill 

23 

Christopher  Marrett 

II   13 

Hercides  Troy 

27 

James  Lecky,  George 

20 

Lewis  Aimde 

8  10 

John  Geoghegan 

24 

Richard  Sherlock 

21 

Edward  Shee 

William  Sherlock 

27 

Isaac  Willan 

Thomas  Sherlock 

Jacob  WiUan 

12  13 

Jacob  Barrington 

30 

Caleb  Crowther 

I     2 

James  VilHers  Walsh 

9     » 

Robert  Longfield 

7 

Richard  Longfield 

6 

James  Green 

II  25 

Nevill  Forth 

1744 

Fennell  White  W^arren 

2     1 

Nathaniel  Orpin 

i   14 

John  Maddock 

3  20 

AVilHam  Mead 

4  H 

Robert  Johnson 

1746 

Benjamin  Johnson 

2  14 

James  Maddock 

24 

Caleb  Chaunders 

3     4 

John  Jones,  jun. 

25 

Wilham  Mackenzie 

II 

Caleb  Carden 

5   21 

William  Berkeley 

23 

John  Lecky,  George 

6   19 

James  Stephens 

26 

Gilbert  Fames 

James  Dalzell 

Ralph  Gates 

23 

Jonathan  Connolly 

Francis  Gates 

29 

George  Farran 

4     9 

Edward  Stephens 

30 

Robert  Walpole 

5   n 

Henry  Harvey 

7    10 

Henry  Pearce 

29 

Richard  Fleming 

Maurice  Rayner 

6  19 

Thomas  Bewley,  Daniel 

8     2 

Daniel  Donovan 

George  Bewley,  Richard 

15 

Robert  Lovett 

9  28 

Robert  Lecky,  John 

436 

APPENDIX. 

1747 

1749 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

9  28 

James  Lecky,  John 

2      3 

James  Morgan 

I     4 

Kobert  Favier 

Robert  Brunton 

9 

John  Fuller,  Samuel 

10 

William  Ayers 

1  24 

Simon  Barker 

17 

Thomas  Green 

Wilham  Barker 

3     8 

James  WaU 

2     6 

John  Ham  m  on 

Pierce  Wall 

21 

Samuel  Kathrens 

9 

Samuel  Judge 

George  Kathrens 

23 

John  Watson,  John 

23 

Thomas  Jackson,  Thomas 

30 

Forest  Bourne 

28 

Thomas  Butler 

4     5 

James  Napper  Tandy 

3     6 

Wright  Pike 

18 

Thomas  Curtis 

17 

Isaac  Tyrrel  De  Zouche 

22 

John  Hill 

18 

Ealph  Barker 

5     4 

Ebenezer  Geale 

4     2 

John  Hudson 

10 

Henry  Carroll 

30 

Thomas  Morris 

Frederick  Carroll 

5  30 

Thomas  Knowles 

Edward  Carroll 

Philip  Lefanu 

6     7 

John  Davis 

7   18 

John  Leybourn 

14 

William  Grove 

8  29 

William  Bury 

15 

George  Nixon 

11    16 

WnUam  Phillips 

16 

Joseph  Reade 

12  29 

Edward  Nowlan 

18 

Peter  Charrieir 

William  Nowlan 

29 

Thomas  Dick 

30 

James  Dance 

1748 

7     9 

WilHam  Hill 

2   13 

John  Kavanagh 

George  Hill 

3    5 

Edward  Morris 

6 

Robert  Fennell 

1750 

Joshua  Fennell 

1   19 

Thomas  Caulfield 

Eichard  Pike,  Richard 

2  22 

Thomas  Ogle 

5  20 

Robert  Michell 

3    6 

Green  Despard 

James  Michell 

8 

Oliver  Cromwell  Wall 

^  15 

James  Shee 

14 

Peter  Banfield 

27 

Edward  Hunt 

17 

James  Woolley 

Christopher  Hewetson 

4    6 

John  Penrose 

7     3 

Thomas  Penrose 

11 

Thomas  Bewley,  Richard 

21 

George  Darcy 

Wilham  Jackson 

8  10 

Joshua  Haughton 

13 

Gray  don  Smith 

17 

Isaac  Michell 

'9 

Nicholas  Hughes 

9  25 

John  Christy,  Thomas 

23 

John  Duckett,  Abraham 

10  18 

WilHam  Reade 

29 

Isaac  Fletcher 

12     6 

Arthur  Thompson 

S  20 

John  Gethin 

H 

James  Delany 

7  15 

Joseph  Sandwith 

I  28 

Benjamin  BaU,  Benjamin 

8     5 

Thomas  Woolley 

BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


437 


U50 

1752 

Mo.  Uay 

Mo.  Day 

8  II 

Samuel  Taylor 

4  20 

Joseph  Baker 

9    22 

Sir  Edmund  Grymes 

5     I 

Henry  Butler 

lo  i6 

Francis  Peisley,  Samuel 

3 

James  Edwin 

Robert  Hudson 

19 

Thomas  Posgate 

II   17 

Robert  Whitby 

20 

Phillips  Callbeck 

21 

William  Pilsworth 

6  25 

Simon  Durand 

12     4 

Thomas  Yeates 

7     6 

Jesse  Ballnawes 

25 

Robert  Montgomery 

24 

Samuel  Cherry 

28 

Edmund  Armstrong 

8  17 

Peter  Hebert 

26 

Daniel  Tracy 

175* 

9  23 

Ralph  Smyth 

I   29 

Maximilian  Favier 

12    4 

Searles  Jackson 

2  26 

Peter  Judd 

3     8 

William  Drope 

1753 

H 

Robert  WUson 

I  29 

Thomas  Haughton 

16 

John  HoweU 

2     7 

Christopher  Colles 

20 

Henry  Boake 

3  26 

John  Briscoe 

4  10 

WiUiam  Candler 

4     5 

John  Pounden 

John  Fellowes 

9 

Timothy  Sullivan 

5  16 

William  Morgan 

16 

Philip  Sullivan 

Hamilton  Morgan 

30 

Samuel  Barry 

18 

James  Read 

5     8 

Richard  Barry 

21 

John  Lawrence 

23 

Robert  Eccles 

23 

John  Chillcott 

6  20 

Anthony  Robinson 

26 

George  Betson 

Joseph  Robinson 

6     9 

John  Conran 

Abraham  Clibborn 

13 

Christopher  Standring 

Clayton  Bayly 

14 

William  Dexter 

24 

Richard  Johnston 

15 

St.  George  Moles  worth 

30 

David  Tersou 

Bouchier  Molesworth 

7  12 

Thomas  Carleton  Webb 

Dunbar  Doyle 

19 

John  Crosbie 

Charles  Doyle 

29 

Richard  Vincent 

23 

Patrick  Mahon 

8  13 

Mark  Anthony  Perrier 

7    5 

Thomas  Mun-ay 

28 

James  Mariner 

16 

Benjamin  Wills 

9     3 

William  Garratt 

20 

Robert  Molesworth 

Francis  Lucas 

9  27 

George  Day 

Charles  Lucas 

15 

Richard  Pounden 

1752 

24 

Timothy  Ryan 

3     6 

William  Howard 

II     8 

John  Ridgway 

3   10 

John  Barker 

4  17 

George  Widdrington 

»754 

20 

Jonathan  Pirn 

3  25 

Thomas  Wrightson 

43  « 

APPENDIX. 

1754 

1755 

Mo.  Pay 

Mo.  l>ay 

3   -5 

Aldl^orough  Wrightson 

9     3 

Charles  Custis 

4  15 

Isaac  Haughton 

9     5 

George  Sail 

Benjamin  Haughton 

10   T7 

Edward  Ellison 

22 

Ponsonby  Molesworth 

William  Ellison 

5     9 

James  Andrews 

I]    17 

Frederick  Falkiner 

12 

Anthony  Sedgwick 

12     2 

Robert  Lecky,  William 

23 

James  Malone 

6     6 

Thomas  Hatton 

'  756* 

John  Hatton 

I   23 

Thomas  Gregg 

9 

William  McClear 

William  Chapman 

J  3 

Rawdon  Hauttonville 

2  12 

William  North 

24 

Peter  Charretid 

28 

Thomas  Buckley 

25 

Hugh  Pigknott 

4  12 

Benjamin  Bloomfield 

6  30 

George  Golding 

Joseph  Bloomjfield 

John  Eliot  Turner 

John  Bloomfield 

7     I 

Michael  Howard 

Henry  Fuller 

4 

John  Despard 

19 

George  Turner 

Andrew  Despard 

27 

John  Watson,  Saml.  jun. 

H 

Lambert  Wheeler 

29 

Abraham  Shackleton 

15 

Joseph  Beard 

5     3 

Edward  Miles 

8    4 

Benjamin  Read 

17 

Thomas  Pearson  Smith 

William  Read 

19 

Edward  Kennedy 

23 

William  Mahon 

6     9 

Matthew  Ryan 

9   13 

Daniel  DuflF 

14 

WUliara  Molesworth 

JO    18 

Mark  Galbraith 

17 

James  Eaton 

12   17 

James  Rice 

22 

Stephen  Read 

7     7 

Philip  Charreti^ 

I7SS 

Thomas  Champion 

I   10 

Benjamin  Yeates 

24 

Lawrence  Dowdall  Curtin 

3   15 

Anthony  Crebessac 

8  30 

Edward  Gray 

19 

Domville  Hartpole 

12     8 

Chaworth  Brabazon  Hal- 

-^ 26 

Joseph  Calcutt 

lows 

6     I 

Richard  Eaton 

23 

George  Tandy 

1757 

28 

Francis  Turner 

I   22 

John  Bertrand 

Rawdon  Stothard 

2     7 

Henry  Toler 

7     I 

William  Walsh 

John  Willington,  James 

8     I 

William  Green 

23 

Thomas  Sullivan 

1 1 

Nicholas  Doyle 

3  30 

James  Sullivan 

18 

WiUiam  Stuart 

4     5 

William  CoUes 

28 

Edward  Pickering 

5     2 

Richard  Wilson 

*  In  this  year  Richard  Shackleton  became  master  of  Ballitore  School. 


BALLITORE    SCHOOL   LIST. 


439 


1757 

Mo.  Dmj- 

5  26 
31 

7  25 

8  8 
24 
26 
28 


6 

II 

10    4 

27 

1758 

1  6 

23 

2  20 

3  2 
^3 

30 

4  10 

5  6 
17 
22 

6  22 
8     I 

8 

28 
10     6 


H 
1759 

2  5 
18 

3  13 


John  Eyre 
Anthony  Brabazon 
Henry  Fortick  Sheridan 
Joseph  Albey 
Somerville  Pope 
Edward  Pierce  Willington 
John  Bay  ley,  jun. 
William  Ormsby 
Henry  Ormsby 
John  Thompson 
Handy  Pemberton 
Francis  May 
James  Lecky,  Robert 
John  Lecky,  Robert 


Samuel  Watson,  Sam.  jun. 
Richard  Webb 
Samuel  Peisley 
Thomas  Scott 
John  Wilson,  John 
Henry  Eaton 
Benjamin  Stratford 
Richard  Geoghegan 
Morrough  Browne 
James  Henry 
Josiah  Caulfield 
Edward  Griffith 
Paul  Hughes 
Poyntz  Willington 
Francis  Anderson  Morris 
Thomas  Ellison 
Bingham  Ellison 
Robert  Gildea 
William  McLaughlin 


John  Lynch 

James  Trenor 

John  Trenor 

Edmond  Blood,  Charles 

Samuel  Cavanagh 

John  Watson,  John 


'759 

Mo.  Day 

3   13 

23 

5  8 
29 

7  12 
17 


8  20 

9  2 
10  29 

31 

1760 

3  3 
16 

5  8 
'9 

27 

7  I 
10 

12 

22 

8  19 

10  14 

1761 
I     5 
7 

3  12 

4  12 

5  » 
13 

6  6 

7 


Robert  Watson 
George  Watson 
James  Adams 
WilUam  Adams 
Charles  Read 
Thomas  Holliday 
Thomas  Prentice 
Adam  Ormsby 
Christopher  Ormsby 
Thomas  Elwood 
Henry  RusseU,  Henry 
Daly  Vero 

Samuel  Pearson  Haughton 
John  Barcroft  Haughton 
Robert  Stratford 


John  Pexton 
Richard  Pike,  William 
Robert  Clayton  Sankey 
Henry  French 
William  Lancaster 
John  Alcock 
Edmond  Blood,  Thomas 
John  Wheeler 
Thomas  Beaumont 
Nathaniel  Price 
Hamilton  Lowe,  James 
George  Naylor 
James  Naylor 
Samuel  Darcey 


Thomas  Emett 
Thomas  Gaugain  Landey 
Howard  Parry 
Charles  White 
Henry  Humfriea 
Samuel  Neale,  Samuel 
Isaac  Simmons 
Thomas  Simmons 
Henry  Lapham 
Pierce  Lett 


44° 

APPENDIX. 

1 76 1 

•763 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

6  29 

Busteed  Ireland 

4  26 

George  Gregg 

7  14 

George  Leckey 

WiUiam  Johnson 

23 

George  Cotter 

28 

Israel  Read 

8  13 

John  Chamberlin 

5     6 

WUliam  Wheeler 

II     9 

Laurence  Nicholas  Zeliiis 

8 

Matthew  Young 

12     7 

William  Keatinge 

13 

Timothy  Bridge 

21 

Svend  Peter  Stuberg 

16 

John  FuUer,  John 
Thomas  FuUer 

1762 

23 

Geo.  Newenham,  Geo, 

1   14 

John  White 

George  Ramsford 

2     2 

James  Garrett 

6    4 

Richard  Sullivan 

3  19 

John  Ratcliff 

12 

John  Pim,  Samuel 

22 

James  DufFey 

14 

John  Neale 

John  Duffey 

7  17 

Thomas  TaUford 

4  13 

Alexander  Shelley,  Alexr. 

18 

Francis  Freeman 

25 

James  Abell 

Csesar  Freeman 

28 

Richard  AbeU 

8    6 

WiUiam  Holmes 

5     6 

James  Bradshaw 

Richard  Holmes 

Robert  Bradshaw 

31 

Michael  CahiU 

WiUiam  Toppin 

9  22 

Richard  Sparrow 

WilUam  Delap 

25 

Moses  Darley 

6     I 

Robert  Bayly 

10  II 

Legh  Hoskins  Master 

7     2 

Samuel  Grubb 

12     3 

WUUam  Carter 

3 

Thomas  Thacker 

4 

Anthony  Deaves,  Henry 

1764 

14 

Robert  Johnson 

I   IS 

Archibald  Nevins 

8     3 

Thomas  Duckett,  Abraham 

27 

Thomas  Chaytor 

Abraham  Duckett,  Abm. 

2  16 

Joshua  Ridgway,  Henry 

9     I 

Newman  Travers  Curtin 

3  " 

WilUam  Walker 

Samuel  Adams  Curtin 

14 

Henry  Rogers 

9  H 

John  Robison 

4  25 

George  Dibbs 

Charles  Robison 

5     7 

Thomas  Eyre 

WUham  Gray 

Samuel  Eyre 

ir   21 

Joshua  Watson 

5  10 

George  McCaUy 

10 

Henry  Pemberton,  John 

1763 

21 

John  Cheney,  John 

I   13 

WiUiam  Whelling 

21 

Benjamin  BaU,  Robert 

31 

John  Haughton,  Jonathan 

6  II 

Patrick  Rogers 

2  13 

William  Wright 

28 

Francis  Johnson 

25 

Francis  Tighe 

7     2 

Patrick  Freeman 

4  14 

Nicholas  Barnes 

16 

Robert  Hume 

21 

Stephen  Gordon 

Clement  Hume 

26 

William  Gregg,  William 

21 

Edward  Hodson 

BALLITORE   SCHOOL    LIST. 


441 


1764 

1766 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

7  24 

Mai  by  Brabazon 

4  20 

Joseph  Fuller,  Abraham 

William  Brabazon 

24 

Charles  CahiU 

27 

John  Robinson 

28 

Henry  Fred.  Courtenay 

30 

Robert  Graham 

S  26 

John  Mosse 

Dacre  Graham 

28 

John  Pasley 

8  II 

Robert  Hawford  Boyd 

30 

Thomas  Evans 

17 

Richard  Goff,  Fade 

6    6 

James  Walpole 

8  18 

John  Petticrew 

8 

Robert  Eyre 

Joshua  Petticrew 

Edward  Eyre 

9  19 

John  Hutchinson 

15 

Thomas  Conway 

20 

Francis  Greenhow 

William  Conway 

John  Bewley 

21 

Rupert  Preston  Vallancey 

24 

Thomas  Robinson 

John  Congreve  Booth 

27 

Stanley  Heyland 

9     I 

Alexander  Mitchell 

II     9 

Andrew  Boles 

20 

Michael  Becher 

12   17 

Murray  Kathrens 

10  27 

James  Magrath 

Samuel  Kathrens 

13 

William  Rayner 

1765 
4  15 

II     7 

James  Taylor 

Thomas  Johnson 

1767 

19 

Samuel  Pim,  Samuel 

I   18 

Joseph  Scott 

5   10 

Dominick  Heyland 

'9 

WiDiam  Leonard 

Abraham  Atkinson 

2  25 

Peter  Clark 

6    4 

Robert  Roe 

28 

Harman  Black 

5 

Loftus  Robinson 

5     7 

George  Lloyd 

James  Howis 

9 

Peter  Cambridge 

10 

George  Stewart 

II 

Samuel  Andrews 

21 

John  Scamaden 

16 

Mordecai  Abbott 

WUliam  Malone 

24 

Edmund  Burroughs 

26 

Bealy  Rogers  Breton 

6  19 

John  Plowman 

7     4 

John  Bonafons 

23 

William  Cooper 

17 

Denison  Hume 

29 

Richard  Cotter 

21 

William  Wallis 

7     6 

John  Mooney 

24 

George  Brabazon 

13 

Daniel  Mooney 

8     5 

John  Haughton,  John 

20 

John  Pim,  John 

9   12 

Richard  Davis 

Thomas  Pim 

11     8 

Paul  Johnson 

William  Pim 
Joseph  Pike  Pim 

1766 

8  27 

Joshua  Wilson 

I   20 

Luke  Lawlor 

Benjamin  Wilson 

2   12 

Josiah  Bryan 

9  28 

John  Carroll 

4  20 

Richard  Jessop 

II   II 

Joseph  Dudley 

442 

APPENDIX. 

1768 

1770 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

I     12 

Samuel  Thornton 

5     I 

Henry  Harris 

2     29 

William  Grace 

27 

Acheson  Johnston  Crozier 

3    3^ 

George  Edkins 

30 

Abraham  Neale 

4     6 

Samuel  Elly 

Samuel  Penrose 

William  Jessop 

30 

James  Hutchinson,  James 

5     5 

Jonathan  Dudley 

William  Hutchinson 

9 

William  Woodward 

6     I 

James  Hutchinson,  Thos. 

II 

Charles  Gore 

II 

Jacob  Fuller,  Samuel 

Richard  Gore 

7  24 

John  Barcroft 

16 

Joseph  Sparrow 

30 

William  Reynolds 

23 

William  Steacey 

31 

John  King 

Thomas  Cotter 

8     I 

Richard  Jacob 

6  16 

William  Boardman 

Isaac  Jacob 

7  13 

Thomas  Lhoyd 

6 

John  Clibborn,  George 

25 

WiUiam  Pike 

9     9 

Thomas  Hoope 

8   14 

Henry  Ashworth 

10  16 

William  Fielding 

Samuel  Ashworth 

II    17 

Thomas  Bell 

10     9 

Robert  Lloyd 

18 

Thomas  Knight  Albey 

12    12 

John  Bayly 

12     3 

Wilham  Duckett,  Abm. 

1769 

1771 

I     3 

Thos.  Hutchinson,  Thos. 

2  21 

Martin  Benton 

23 

Henry  Rochfort 

3     2 

William  Goflf 

3   27 

Simon  Bradstreet 

4  16 

Eyre  Massy 

Samuel  Bradstreet 

20 

Thomas  Higgins 

4     I 

.Thomas  Gribble 

5  28 

James  Prossor 

S 

Thomas  Strangman 

7     9 

Barker  Thacker,  Barker 

26 

Josiah  Johnson 

8  22 

John  Barclay 

James  Evans 

9     9 

WUliam  Rea 

5   19 

Caesar  Colclough 

10    9 

Peter  Bell 

6  26 

Edward  Currin 

Morgan  Byrne 

7     5 

John  Deaves,  Henry 

24 

George  St.  George  Robison 

1772 

Wilham  Robison 

I   10 

George  Penrose,  George 

8   14 

Thomas  McLauglilin 

14 

Thomas  Harris 

27 

Jno.  WilHngton,  Jonathan 

2  25 

John  Williams 

9     I 

Thomas  Wandesford 

4  30 

Burrows  Erwin 

II     3 

WilUam  Lecky,  WiUiam 

Thomas  Jacob 

16 

Nathaniel  White 

5     2 

Edward  Scriven 

9 

Robert  Turton 

1770 

James  Nicholson 

3   11 

Thomas  Richard  Hamilton 

14 

John  Holmes 

14 

Isaac  Jackson 

IS 

Moses  Pirn 

BALLITORE   SCHOOL   LIST. 


443 


1772 

1773 

Mo  Day 

Mo.  Day 

5  18 

Benjamin  Alloway 

10    7 

David  Sherrard 

6    IS 

William  Duckett,  Jonas 

9 

Philip  Stacpole 

James  Jenkisson 

"   15 

WilHam  Mulock 

20 

Joseph  Knott 

23 

Richard  Wiley 

1774 

27 

John  Conway  Hughes 

I  25 

John  St.  Clair 

7     9 

Thomas  Duffey 

29 

Joshua  Beale 

8  22 

John  Elsey 

3  22 

Joshua  Pilkington 

9    9 

James  Whyte 

William  Pilkington 

Christopher  Whyte 

4  12 

David  Skinner 

12 

John  Rea 

5     3 

John  Farrell 

10  13 

Thomas  Rea 

II 

Francis  Russell,  John 

17 

Frederick  Millikin 

17 

John  Bennett 

12      6 

James  Skinner 

6    4 

George  Magill 

21 

George  Hart 

1773 

John  Hutchinson,  James 

4  22 

George  Taggart 

7     1 

Samuel  Pasley 

24 

Eyre  Linde 

3 

Robert  Taggart 

26 

Joseph  Haughton 

6 

John  Peile 

27 

Eugene  Sullivan 

Robert  Peile 

28 

William  Dudley 

8     8 

John  Thacker,  John 

5     9 

Charles  Ayres 

10 

John  Beale 

10 

WilUam  HaU 

28 

James  Forbes 

John  Hall 

John  Robinson,  John 

Joseph  Hall 

9  10 

Gilbert  Kilbee 

24 

George  Barcroft 

James  Kilbee 

27 

James  Malone,  Francis 

Alexander  Henry 

28 

William  Waring 

10  24 

Joshua  Desvoeux 

(>     5 

John  Nicholson 

II     4 

James  Kathrens 

7 

Thomas  White 
Benjamin  White 

12  13 

John  Mason 

6     8 

Nicholas  Chaytor 

1775 

^9 

Joseph  Strangman 

I     2 

Henry  Fuller,  Samuel 

22 

Hosea  Guinness 

8 

John  Goodwin 

7     7 

George  Stanley 

10 

Pim  Nevins 

Richard  Phibbs 

16 

Richard  Sherwood 

Toby  Peyton  Phibbs 

24 

James  Eustace 

9 

Joseph  Thacker 

Robert  Eustace 

8   19 

William  Crowe 

2     4 

Laurence  Cotton 

21 

Joseph  Rawlins 

3  23 

Sir  Richd.  Eyre  Cox,  Bart 

30 

John  Deaves,  Ebenezer 

5  J7 

Joshua  Parvin 

Anthony  Deaves,  Ebenezer 

22 

James  Seaton 

9     2 

George  Massy 

31 

John  Morris 

444 

APPENDIX. 

1775 

1777 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

6       I 

Richard  Duckett 

6  12 

Aldworth  Phaire 

lO 

George  JNIansergh 

7     7 

John  Wilson,  Andrew 

Henry  Leslie 

21 

James  Hamilton 

7     5 

Charles  Seaton 

8     I 

Sa.muel  Hodson 

9 

Thomas  Dalton 

9    5 

G-odfrey  Bjme 

lO 

James  Coghill  Hagarty 

13 

Leslie  Battersby 

28 

Edward  Power 

14 

Richard  Senior 

8  31 

William  Beale 

23 

Richard  Odium 

9     I 

John  Haughton,  Joseph 

29 

Henry  Purdon 

10     5 

Robert  Baxter 

II     I 

Frederick  Cary 

12     4 

Wm.  Palhser  Barrington 

12  II 

Charles  Rawdon 

j6 

Alexander  Ewing 

1778 

1776 

I     8 

Francis  Hutchinson 

2    r5 

Joseph  Keen  Dixon 

2  19 

Robert  Johnson,  Robert 

3     3 

WiUiam  Leslie 

4    4 

Richard  King 

4 

Robert  Donkin 

10 

Mark  Toomey 

12 

Matthew  Mansergh 

16 

Benjamin  Rochfort    Read 

24 

Samuel  Wily 

Bowen 

4     7 

John  Taylor 

28 

Thomas  Smith 

15 

Ephraim  Hetherington 

George  Percy  Smith 

Thomas  Boake,  Ephraim 

30 

Jeremiah  Hanks 

28 

William  Fitzgerald 

Joseph  Hanks 

29 

John  Williams 

5  18 

John  Harpor 

5  II 

John  Radcliff 

24 

Alexander  Forbes 

22 

John  Christy,  John 

6  23 

Edmond  Power 

6  f5 

Robert  Dowling 

25 

William     Alexander    Co- 

9  " 

Thomas  Homan  Mulock 

n3rngham 

1 1   12 

Thomas  Kathrens 

7  10 

Wilham  Massey 

12     8 

John  Browm-igg 

22 

Robert  Sandford  Palmer 

8     I 

Joseph  Lapham 

1777 

25 

James  Ferrall 

I     9 

William   Henry    Lowther 

9    3 

Robert  Mottley 

Crofton 

21 

Henry  Flood 

22 

Charles  Fleetwood 

10  23 

Joseph  Greenwood 

2     5 

Peter  Widdows 

II     8 

Samuel  Strangman 

3  30 

John  Edkins 

25 

Edward  Cooper 

4  12 

Frederick  Lee  Conyngham 

26 

Charles  Coote 

14 

James  Fitzgerald 

5     7 

William  Leadbeater 

1779' 

19 

John  Dawson,  John 

I  21 

John  Conran,  James 

24 

William  Irvine 

Wnnam  Conran 

In  this  year  Richard  Shackleton's  son,  Abraham,  became  master  of  Ballitore  School . 


BALLITORE   SCHOOL    LIST. 


445 


1779 

1781 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

I    22 

Henry  Bunbury 

8  23 

John  Borough  Leslie 

2       6 

Samuel  Alexander 

28 

Joseph  McGwire 

24 

William  Wilson 

10    4 

Samuel  Brooke 

3  28 

Hunt  Walsh  Johnson 

John  Brooke 

4  13 

Edmund  Murphy 

4  2.1; 

Anthony  Lynch 

1782 

28 

Abraham  Abell 

2  20 

Francis  Boyle  Derenzy 

5  19 

Thomas  Beale 

3     4 

Peter  Wilson 

6     I 

Richard  Powell 

18 

Nicholas  Cooper  Morres 

16 

Trevor  Fay 

5  20 

Benjamin  Wilson 

7     5 

Robert  Nixon 

Thomas  Wilson 

14 

Thomas  Bernard 

6  17 

Robert  Shaw 

8     4 

John  Strettell 

7     i 

Maurice  Moran 

13 

James  Abbott 

Philip  Butler 

16 

George  Forster  Dalton 

IS 

William  Mooney 

9  19 

Richard  Calcutt 

8  25 

John      Baptist     Cuvill 

23 

William  Cooley 

Shannon 

10  19 

Thomas  Wilcoks,  John 

9  19 

W^illiam  Middleton 

II     6 

James  Frazer 

8 

William  Montgomery 

1783 

12  20 

Weilly  M  alone 

2     I 

John  Perkins 

3  29 

William  Greene 

1780 

Arthur  Greene 

I     4 

Westby  Percival 

Joseph  Greene 

2   14 

Samuel  Johnson 

SI 

John  Dunbar 

Richard  Johnson 

Dennis  Delany 

28 

John  Jackson 

4  13 

Curtis  Farran 

Thomas  Jackson,  William 

24 

John  Perkins  O'Brien 

7    17 

Michael  T/a.oky 

26 

William  Hawkins 

8    25 

John  Forbes 

5     9 

William  Cartwright 

10  31 

Peter  Alexander  Leslie 

Samuel  Long 

19 

Samuel  Dawson 

1781 

6    9 

William  Dowdall 

I     8 

Robert  Lacky 

16 

John  Hudson 

17 

Thomas  McGwire 

23 

Patrick  Fenerty 

Edward  McGwire 

30 

Thomas  Butler 

18 

Edward  Stephens 

8  13 

Bernard  Shaw 

19 

John  North 

20 

Joseph  Cooper 

21 

Ashleigh  Crofton 

25 

William  Farron 

2     5 

Aaron  Atkinson 

28 

Richard  Evans 

4    9 

John  Pim,  Tobias 

9     9 

John  Watson 

5     2 

John  Vaughan 

>3 

Edward  Featherstone 

George  Vaughan 

29 

Peter  Smith 

446 

APPENDIX. 

1783 

1785 

Wo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

10    27 

Thomas  Wilson 

9  29 

George  Randall  Penrose 

12       6 

Robert  Hamilton 

10  24 

George  Armitt 

1784 

1786 

I     13 

John  Seavers 

2     5 

Simon  Foote 

15 

Robert  Simmons 

3     5 

Richard  Manders,  Isaac 

Thomas  Dowling 

Howe    Greene    Mandeis, 

3     4 

John  Peck 

Isaac 

31 

George  Ashe 

John  Manders,  Joshua 

4     I 

William  Murray 

Thomas  Manders,  Joshua 

Alexander  Murray 

6 

Richard  Shacldeton 

12 

John  Fetherston 

23 

Francis  Wemys 

Theobald  Fetherston 

5  15 

Joseph  Turner 

6  10 

Charles  Bernard 

6    3 

WilUam  Duckett  White 

28 

William  Rawson 

John  White 

James  Rawson 

18 

William  Gold  Patrickson 

9     4 

Joseph  Bernard 

Chr.  Clarges  Patrickson 

10     4 

Frederick  Steele 

8   17 

John  Kennedy 

19 

Skeffington  Hamilton 

9  " 

Hamlet  Wade 

11   18 

Thomas  Steele 

29 

Molyneux  Smith 

12     I 

Christopher  Ussher 
John  Ussher 

10  23 

William  Cole 

1785 

1787 

I   28 

Thomas  Pim,  Jonathan 

I     2 

Richard  Hudson 

30 

Samuel  Watson,  John 

2  26 

James  Welsh 

3     6 

John  Magrath 

3     8 

Anthony  Pim 

7 

Dudley  Hartpole  Colclough 

12 

John  Brohan 

24 

Joseph  Welsh 

27 

John  Power 

4     5 

George  Hartpole 

4  12 

Henry  Magill 

15 

Richard  Newton  Bennett 

6  19 

William  O'Hara 

23 

William  Holmes,  M.D. 

7     2 

Richard  Yeates 

27 

William  Henry  Turner 

8     3 

Abraham  Grubb 

5     7 

Allen  Adams 

6 

Sand  with  Martin 

15 

John  Bailie  Ferrall 

John  Martin 

William  Bailie 

19 

Peter  Wilkinson 

20 

John  Robinson,  Anthony 

9  18 

Thomas  Willan 

30 

Samuel  Wilson 

10  II 

John  Reilly 

6    4 

Hercules  Campbell 

15 

John  Couzens 

25 

Emanuel  Bayly 

II   15 

Abm.  Devonshire  Penrose 

8  24 

Josiah  Martin 

21 

Margaret  Shackleton 

26 

Pooley  Smith 

12  10 

Benjamin  Haughton,  Sam. 

9     3 

Jonathan  Sisson  Cooper 

Issac  Wilson 

29 

Samuel  Penrose,  Samuel 

16 

Thomas  Greer  Grubb 

BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


447 


1787 

1791 

.Mo.  Uay 

Mo.  Day 

12    17 

George  Penrose  Ridgway 

4  27 

Joseph  Devonshire  Fisher 
Joseph  Fisher 

1788 

5  24 

Thomas  Kathrens 

I     II 

Samuel  Robinson 

31 

William  Pem-ose 

24 

Edward  Lucas 

Thomas  Courtenay 

2      7 

Richard  Leigh 

6    4 

Francis  Davis 

3     3 

Robert  Power 

John  Sparrow 

4  24 

Henry  Grubb 

Andrew  Martin 

Robert  Grubb 

7 

Richard  Burchell 

5     8 

Joseph  Smithson 

9 

Richard  Grubb 

7  17 

Henry  King 

II 

William  Murphy 

21 

WilHam  Heighington 

13 

George  Robinson 

8  29 

Richard  King 

7    2 

Thomas  Williams 

10  20 

George  Slamer  Grant 

15 

Francis  Penrose 

12  21 

William  Reilly 

27 

James  White 

8  27 

Jonathan  Pim 

1789 

Anthony  Robinson 

4  19 

James  Wall 

9     9 

Linegar  Rogers 

Harrington  Wall 

10   14 

Hemy  Sandwith 

7     I 

George  Humfrey 

20 

James  Macklin 

21 

Henry  Cole  Johnson 

8  28 

John  Hornidge 

1792 

William  Hornidge 

3     2 

Arthur  Curtis 

9     I 

Alexander  Cahill 

.^   28 

Barcroft  Wilson 

10  29 

Joseph  Harvey 

6     4 

Luke  Faman 

11 

Thomas  Smithson 

1790 

12 

Charles  Dudley 

1     4 

Jonathan  Williamson 

James  Forbes 

Francis  Williamson 

7     6 

William  Corlett 

19 

Maurice  Farmer 

24 

James  Stewart 

3  31 

Thomas  Nevins 

8  20 

Stei)lien  Devereux 

4     6 

Henry  Smithson 

9     I 

Thomas  Fayle 

5   17 

Benjamin  Haughton 
John  Haughton 

II   28 

John  Deaves 

21 

Saunders  Frayne 

1793 

Parsons  Frayne 

I     8 

William  Phelps 

^'  '5 

James  ReiUy 

James  Phelps 

8  12 

Solomon  Watson 

4  25 

John  Penrose 

William  Watson 

WiUiam  Dudley 

Joshua  Watson 

27 

Samuel  Penrose 

II   19 

John  Thomas  Allinson 

Joseph  Penrose 

5     3 

Benjamin  Parvin  Wynne 

1791 

9 

Archibald  Nevins 

3  28 

Goodwin  Waauier 

Pim  Nevins 

44» 

APPENDIX, 

1793 

1796 

Rio.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

5  16 

Thomas  Reeves 

5  12 

Richard  Cox 

6     7 

Eobert  Lecky 

7  22 

Robert  Walpole 

8     5 

John  Bewley 

8     6 

Edward  Carroll 

William  Bewley 

20 

George  Bewley,  Mungo 

9  13 

Henry  Haughton 

9    7 

John  Hancock 

10     7 

John  Freeman 

Robert  Hancock 

IS 

William  Delap 

1794 

24 

Thomas  Power 

3    6 

Robert  Watson 

10    5 

Thomas  Chandlee 

4     2 

Robert  Goodbocly 

27 

John  Usher 

Thomas  Goodbody 

II  21 

Robert  Mottley 

6     2 

William  Thacker 

H 

George  Peet,  Edward 

1797 

7   12 

William  Garrett 

2     3 

Thomas  Montagu  Black 

James  Garrett 

3  IK 

Robert  Davis 

8  16 

John  Russell 

5     8 

Abraham  Spain 

9  24 

Edward  Peet 

22 

Joshua  Strangman  Conran 

10  31 

James  Fisher 

9  17 

Devon  Seymour  Conway 

II   10 

Robert  Mansergh 

Henry  Waters 

12  24 

Reuben  Harvey 

10  19 

George  McMahon 

179s 

1798 

3  18 

Samuel  Grubb 

4     I 

Thomas  \Vhite 

4     7 

Joseph  Dugdale 

23 

James  Nicholson 

24 

George  Firth 

Joseph  Nicholson 

S  22 

Joshua  Fayle 

9     I 

James  Bewley 

26 

Benjamin  Gatchell 

4 

Edmund  Mooney 

6  20 

Joseph  Jacob 

7     6 

Joseph  Walpole 

'799 

WiUiam  Walpole 

8  23 

Samuel  Phelps 

20 

Joseph  Wood 

10     7 

WiUiam  Farmer 

8  25 

John  Pim 

John  Farmer 

9  16 

John  Knott 

14 

WiUiam  Hancock 

10    5 

Richard  Garrett 

II     5 

Thomas  Bond 

1796 

1800 

1   12 

John  Watson 

4  17 

Henry  Bond 

3     8 

Penrose  Nevins 

9  17 

Jonathan  Haughton,  Ben, 

10 

WiUiam  Hoyland 

31 

George  Peet,  Nathaniel 

1801 

4    8 

George  Phelps 

4  14 

Samuel  Haughton,  Saml, 

4  22 

William  Watson 

Thomas  Haughton,  Saml.'^ 

S  12 

Joshua  Hamilton  Cox 

Ballitore  School  was  dissolved  when  Thomas  Montagu  Black  left  scliool. 


BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


449 


Ballitore  School  re-opened  for  Day  Scholars  under  the  joint 
direction  of  Richard  Shackleton  and  Mary  Stephens. 


1802 

1803 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

II     22 

Elizabeth  Leadbeater 

I     28 

Wilham  Leadbeater 

Deborah  Leadbeater 

2       4 

Edward  Pitts 

2.^ 

Margaret  Shackleton 

7 

William  Dunn 

12       6 

Mary  Shackleton 

Sarah  Egan 

21 

Lydia  Shackleton 

14 

Catharine  Nowlan 

27 

Alexander  Bewley 

25 

Mary  Paine 
Susanna  Butler 

1803 

4  12 

Robert  Fitzgerald 

1     3 

John  Paine 

5  19 

Anne  Haughton 

Wentworth  Paine 

."5  23 

Anne  Brian 

»9 

Catharine  Germain 

6     I 

Catharine  Maher 

Catharine  Walsh 

7     5 

Mary  Lee 

James  White  re-opened  Ballitore  Boarding  School. 

1806 

T807 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

11     24 

Richard  Shackleton  Lead- 

3 28 

Francis  Peet 

beater 

4     4 

Henry  McManus 

William  Horan 

17 

Joseph  Todhunter 

25 

Edward  Cullen 

Thomas  Harvey  Todhunter 

27 

James  Farmer 

18 

Barclay  Clibborn,  James 

Frederick  Farmer 

Thomas  Greer  Clibborn 

12    29 

Francis  Carter 

28 

William  Drury 
John  Drury 

1807 

Henry  Drury 

I       I 

James  Haughton,  Samuel, 

^     9 

Jonathan  Wright 

first  boarder 

18 

James  Pim 

5 

Richard  Butler 

WiUiam  Walpole 

7 

William  Hoysted 

Hugh  Cullen 

22 

James  Maher 

23 

John  Pun 

26 

Joseph  Harvey 

24 

George  Courtenay 

2  23 

Michael  Conran 

27 

Thomas  Lawler 

3     I 

John  O'Neill 

6     5 

Joseph  Robinson 

Thomas  O'Neill                       ; 

9 

John  Towers 

'3 

Samuel  Clibborn 

27 

William  (Joodbody 

Barclay  Clibborn,  Cooper     i 

7     I 

Richard  Jacob 

45° 

APPENDIX. 

i8o7 

1809 

Mo  Day 

' 

Mo.  Day 

7     I 

Thomas  Greer  Jacob 

8  15 

James  Fisher,  Joseph 

2 

Charles  Stephens 

Thomas  Harvey 

14 

Jonathan  Pini^ 

9    4 

John  Archbold 

Joseph  Wakefield  Phn 

11 

John  Lawler 

i6 

Richard  Davis 

10     2 

Richard  CoUes 

21 

Robert  EUy 

9 

John  Bressingham 

Samuel  Rogers 

10 

William  Greer 

H  15 

John  Thacker 

29 

WiUiam  Tracy 

William  Thacker 

II  20 

Edward  Farmer 

lO       I 

William  Harvey 

12     4 

John  Jacob 

4 

WilliamHenryHutchinson 

II     7 

George  Penrose 

1810 

Joseph  Penrose 

I  15 

Morgan  Maguire 

20 

Richard  Bewley 

Edward  Maguire 

24 

William  Fitzmaurice 

Thomas  Maguire 

Robert  Fitzmaurice 

Thomas  Lenan 

12     14 

Charles  Coote 

3   10 

John  Broughan 

17 

Joseph  Strangman 

5.31 

John  Murphy 

29 

John  Haughton 

6     I 

TheophUus  Jones  Dixon 

8     ( 

William  Coote 

1808 

11 

Thomas  Fisher 

2  i.t; 

Edward  Jones 

12 

WiUiam  Todhunter 

3  26 

William  Going 

9     3 

Thomas  Nagle 

5     5 

Jacob  Harvey 

II     9 

Richd.  Shackleton  Rayner 

James  Mark 

12  II 

Thomas  O'Brien 

10 

Thomas  Knott 

15 

Richard  Fames 

6     4 

WiUiam  Pim 

Benjamin  Eames 

15 

Thomas  Stephens 

7  12 

John  Warren 

1811 

Richard  Warren 

I     7 

John  HartweU 

16 

Thomas  White  Harris 

2  14 

John  Robert  Greer 

10  12 

Joseph  Wiggissworth 

.3     4 

Michael  TLmmons 

24 

Joseph  Revel 

8 

John  Fitzsimmons 

29 

Edward  Tracy 

John  Stratford  Rodney 
Joseph  Butler 

1809 

Thomas  Dixon 

1   21 

John  Manly 

8,20 

]Mattliew  Lawler 

3     I 

William  Robinson,  John 

9  10 

Samuel  Neale 

26 

Samuel  Tolertou 

4  10 

William  Risdall 

1812 

5   27 

Francis  Hanks 

I   23 

Solomon  Sproule 

WiUiam  Hanks 

4  12 

Thomas  Sturgeon 

8      I 

Samuel  Eves 

5    '2 

Frederick  Mooney 

BALLITORE   SCHOOL    LIST. 


45 


l8l2 

1 

1814 

Mo.  Dav 

Mo.  Diiy 

6     3 

James  Byrne                          ' 

i     7 

8     7 

John  Tolerton 

15 

Thomas  Gatchell 

2   12 

John  Dixon                             ! 

3     3 

30 

James  Harvey                        < 

19 

10    3 

Samuel  Lapham                     ; 

21 

11     I 

Patrick  Mooney 

4     i 

12  26 

Hancock  Gregg 

3 
4 

1813 

15 

I   17 

George  Lowman 

2   10 

Michael  Cullen 
Hugh  Cullen 

i  1 

William  Deaves 

27 

Thomas  Deaves 

5  ^9 

Joseph  Harvey,  Reuben 

31 

21 

John  Kain 

6  12 

3  11 

Edward  Eead 

^3 

12 

John  DiUon 

16 

22 

Bernard  Keilly 

4     6 

John  Grattan 
Henry  Grattan 
Edward  Grattan 
John  Dempsey 

'    8     9 

Nicholas  Walsh 

11 

IMatthew  Fay 

1 2 

Daniel  Menzies 

15 

'3 

Michael  Lloyd  A}'john 

2  I 

Henry  Baker 

16 

5   10 

Paul  Cullen 

28 

12 

Joseph  Barcroft 

6   13 

John  Franks 

9     ^ 

Robert  Marshall 

8 

?     7 

William  Boake 

10     4 

10 

Jacob  Wiggins 

24 

Edward  Gatchell 

1 1 

9  24 

Joshua  Strangmau 

•7 

10  26 

Joseph  Greer 

II   16 

John  Hughes 

1 

29 

Henry  Pim 

29 

Frederick  Pim 

11  2 

12  4 

James  ConneU 

Thomas  ConneU 

David  Taylor 

Jonathan  Richardson 

Peter  Lyon 

George  Smith 

Wm.  Robinson,  Anthony 

Joseph  Waring 

Edward  Singleton 

George  Morgan 

Henry  Morgan 

Jeremiah  Morgan 

Nicholas  Baker 

Sandford  Palmer 

George  O'Connor 

Edward  Newenham  Hoare 

Arthur  Gloster 

Stephen  Winthrop  Blood 

John  Briarly 

Joshua  Harvey 

Henry  Wall 

Joshua  Harvey,  Reuben 

John  Harvey 

Joshua  Malcomson 

John  O'Neill 

Ralph  Smyth 

George  Pim 

Jonathan  Greenwood  Pim 

Jo.seph  Brown 

William  Thom 

John  Thom 

Edward  Newenham 

WiUiam  Haughton 

John  Straton 

Robert  Straton 

Nathan  Gatchell 

Henry  Thompson 

James  Thompson 

Thomas  Doyle 

Jonathan  Pim 

John  Rynd 

Thomas  Robert  Barton 


452 

APPENDIX. 

i8i5 

1817 

Mo.  Day 

Mo. 

Day 

'   3t 

Joseph  Metcalf 

7 

14 

Thomas  Meredith 

Charles  Metcalf 

16 

John  Dixon 

3    H 

Samuel  Walker 

Martin  Ennis 

4  13 

John  Lecky  Watson 

9 

3 

Francis  Hennis 

5      1 

Joseph  Doyle 

12 

30 

Edward  Haughton 

8 

George  White 

Edward  White 

1818 

lO 

John  BeU 

I 

10 

William  Jenkins 

Samuel  Lapham 

^9 

Thomas  Simpson 

6     1 

John  Sprig 

George  Simpson 

1 5 

WiUiam  Chapman 

2 

7 

Benj.  Wilson  Greenwood 

8     6 

William  Burke 

3 

2 

Manliff  Barrington 

13 

George  Eagle 

4 

21 

George  Ashe 

10  1 1 

Robert  Parke 

28 

Christopher  Bagot 

29 

Bernard  Murray 

29 

John  Garnett  Coghlan 

1 1    10 

Joshua  Abell 

5 
6 

17 

J 

William  Carter 
Thomas  Hyland 

1816 

WiDiam  Hyland 

2     2 

Thomas  Hancock  Davis 

John  Dawson 

3   J I 

William  Jackson 

2 

James  Pim 

4     I 

Samuel  ManlifFe  Wright 

10 

Joseph  White 

5   12 

John  McCormic 

Henry  Fowler 

6     5 

John  Gale 

15 

William  Ashe 

8     4 

Henry  White 

18 

Thomas  Calvert 

29 

Wm.  Thomas  Brewster 

24 

Nicholas  Grattan 

10     9 

Samuel  AUin 
John  Allin 

7 

13 

Henry  Donnelly 
Birmingham  Donnelly 

13 

Thomas  Burton 

Edward  Irvine  Donnelly 

II    12 

Lemuel  Dunbar  Barton 

Frederick  Donnelly 

^3 

Alexander  Harper 

28 

William  Edmundson 

9 

10 

Samuel  Hill 

1817 

21 

James  Glaizbrook 

I    12 

Thomas  Allin 
Samuel  Green 

10 

8 

Charles  Fitzroy  Neynoe 

H 

Robert  Ball 

1819 

27 

PhUip  Walsh 

2 

I 

Saunders  Barton 

John  C.  Lloyd 

1 1 

Henry  Dawson 

4  12 

James  Pirn 

Edward  Dawson 

5     6 

James  Butterfield 

24 

Richard  Murray 

22 

William  Cooke 

3 

8 

Stephen  WUson 

6 

James  Dixon 

John  Wilson 

27 

Richard  Fitzsimmons 

9 

Richard  Going 

7  H 

John  Meredith 

4 

3 

Gabriel  Joseph  Fisher 

BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


453 


1819 

1822 

• 

Mo.  Day 

Mo. 

Day 

4   19 

Thomas  Cronyn 

19 

Thomas  Kelly 

5     7 

William  Penrose  Watson 

2 

4 

Thomas  Pim 

8 

Thomas  Webb 

16 

Matthew  Biggs 

10 

George  Gregg 

3 

23 

Thomas  Pim  Nevins 

6     7 

John  Strangman 

25 

Joseph  Pim 

18 

John  Stephens 

4 

I 

Edward  Barton 

28 

Richard  Davis  Webb 

5 

6 

Joseph  Gihnore 

7     4 

Lawrence  Maxton 

7 

Wilkins  Goodwin 

26 

Joseph  Allen 

14 

Edward  Cullen 

Lewis  Rawson 

8 

9 

Joshua  Grubb 

Thomas  Rawson 

Jonathan  Richardson 

8     2 

John  Miley 

26 

Wight  Pike 

28 

William  Brydges  Neynoe 

WiUiam  Hill  Pike 

9  23 

Hill  Hamilton 

10 

9 

Henry  Harrington  Wall 

10     ( 

Jeremiah  Taylor  Hunt 

II 

9 

Robert  Gilmore 

10 

Francis  Davis 

Edward  Nicholson 

27 

John  Hoysted  Fenton 

John  Boake 

i»     3 

Richard  Bolton 
Richard  Vesey 

Samuel  Boake 

II 

Joshua  Edmundson 

1823 

William  Butler 

I 

I 

10 

Robert  Malcomson 
James  Crowe 

1820 

John  Bell 

I   25 

John  O'NeUl 

3 

5 

James  Dickinson 

4  10 

Thomas  McCheane 

5 

JafFray  Harvey 

8  26 

Edward  Golding 

7 

Robert  T.  Hendrick 

31 

Francis  Penrose  Cherry 

5 

4 

John  Langtry  Bell 

9  16 

James  Robert  Clarke 

6 

10 

Samuel  Grubb 

lo     2 

Thomas  William  Boake 

8 

Edward  Harding 

4 

John  Stuart  Murray 

8 

16 

27 

Samuel  Greer 
John  Todhunter 

1821 

Joshua  Edmundson   Tod- 

I   10 

Charles  White 

hunter 

2   21 

Jolm  KeUy 

iO 

George  Wynne 

3     I 

George  Penrose  Neale 

9 

'8 

William  Hogg 

William  Bourke 

12 

William  Cherry 

r2 

Benjamin  Cox 

10 

8 

Robert  Crowe 

9     4 

Thos.  Hancock  Strangman 

WiUiam  Crowe 

1 1 

William  Alexander  Helton 

9 

WiUiam  Harvey  Pim 

18 

John  Carroll 

12 

5 

Gifford  Glascott 

29 

Edward  Smith 

i^      .=> 

Robert  Lecky 

1824 

12     8 

John  Conran 

1 

7 

Thomas  Haughton  White 

454 

APPENDIX. 

1824 

1826 

Mo.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

4  10 

Thomas  Browning 

2       8 

Samuel  Strangman 

12 

John  Williams 

8     fO 

Wakefield  Pim 

18 

George  S.  Barclay 

18 

John  Greeves  O'Brien 

24 

David  Malcomson 

9     9 

Nathaniel  Thompson 

5  24 

John  Grubb  Eichardson 

ro     6 

Albert  White 

6  10 

William  Henry  Harvey 

28 

Thomas  Jackson 

7     3 

Samuel  Knott 

ir   26 

Travers  Arthur  Golding 

8   r4 

Eobert  V.  Griffith 

Dupr^  Golding 

9     4 

Joseph  White 

10  18 

Henry     Higginson     Fitz- 

1827 

simmons 

2    12 

John  Croker 

12   10 

David  Browning 

4     9 

Silvester  Kelly 

5   13 

Edward  Biggam 

1825 

9     7 

Edward  Davis 

I   26 

Henry  Goouch 

10 

Richard  Langtry  Bell 

2     3 

Giles  Keane 

12 

Edward  Strangman 

28 

WilHam  Fayle 

10  16 

Thomas  Martin 

3     I 

William  Ciillen 
James  Cullen 

11   17 

Thomas  Pim  Goodbody 

26 

Joseph  Hatton 

1828 

4     4 

John  Thacker 

I   13 

John  Simpson 

8  24 

James  Clibborn  Hill 

4    9 

Joshua  George  Fennell 

29 

John  Classon 

8     7 

Richard  Pike 

9     3 

Thomas  Williams 

James  Nicholson  Pike 

Obadiah  Williams 

19 

William  Langtry  Bell 

6 

Richard  Pirn 

20 

Joseph  Grubb 

John    Boake,    returned 

John  Grubb 

boarder 

10  16 

Andrew  Watson  Mahony 

10 

Thomas  Pim 

17 

Joshua  Pim 

13 

Anthony  Singleton 

II     4 

Thomas  Greer 

16 

Samuel  Hanks 

15 

James  Cooper 

10     I 

Henry  Williams 

22 

Joshua  Jackson 

1829 

TI       3 

James  Henry  Webb 

3  25 

Thomas  Newberry  Russell 

12   15 

Richard  Cherry 

8   17 

Alexander  Allen 

20 

William  Pike 

1826 

George  Langtry  Bell 

I     5 

Thomas  Johnson 

9     2 

James  Pike 

2     7 

Thomas  Agmondisham 

.S 

Robert  Grubb 

Vesey 

25 

Abraham  Grubb  Davis 

8 

Charles  Miller 

10     9 

Thomas  Malcomson 

William  Rowley  Miller 

11   14 

Henry  Hoare 

BALLITORE    SCHOOL    LIST. 


455 


1830 

1833 

Ao.  Day 

Mo.  Day 

4  23 

Andrew  James  Newton 

8 

Joshua  Fennell 

8     9 

William  Uprichard 

Thomas  J.  Fennell 
William  Roche 

1831 

8  30 

John  T.  White 

I   II 

Jas.  Nicholson  Richardson 

Arthur  Gordon 

Henry  Torrens 

10 

William  H.  Conran 

8   16 

James  McCullagh 

II     16 

Joseph  Carroll 

Thomas  Richardson 

Joshua  Carroll 

10  10 

Joseph  Henry 

Thomas  Chandlee 

1834 

Jehu  Henry 

John  Falls 
Robert  Bell 

1832 

Richard  Dowd 

3  25 

Wi]lia,m  Greer 

II     3 

Joseph  Charles  Harvey 

8     2 

Charles  West 

12 

George  Fennell 

II 

WiUiam  K.  Fayle 
William  Robinson 

Charles  Fennell 

Joshua  Eves 

•855 

Joseph  Poole 

3     6 

Henry  Fennell 

Theophilus  Fielding  Ashe 

8 

Roderick  Miley 

13 

Joshua  Forbes  Russell 

5  30 

Robert  Dowd 

14 

Charles  A.  Pim 

6     I 

Thomas  Conran 

John  T.  Pim 

8     7 

Richard  Davis  Grubb 

Henry  William  Holland 

17 

James  Clibbom 

.  1836 

Mark  Flower 

2  20 

Henry  Cherry 

Alfred  Grubb 

22 

James  H.  Pim 

26 

William  Atkinson 

5     4 

Robert  Cooke 

1 1      I 

Thomas  White  Waring 

8  27 

Jonas  Barclay 

30 

Joseph  Richardson 

William  Barclay 

William  Richardson 

Henry  Barclav 

8  15 

William  Harvey 

1833 

Reuben  Harvey 

4 

John  Greer 

Louis  F.  Goodbody 

Thomas  Harvey 

^^^^■i^