Memoir of Owen Peter Mangan 1838-1924
Memoir of Owen Peter Mangan 1838 - 1924 T.J. Barron Reamhra This is a memoir written by Owen Peter Mangan who was a native of Knockbride parish, Co Cavan, where he was born in 1838. he wrote this extremely interesting account of his life in January 1912 as he says himself "for the benefit of his descendants" and it is one of these descendants, Mr Gerry Fitzgerald of New York, who has very kindly given us permission to publish it in The Heart of Breifne. In the 1984 issue of this fine journal we are publishing the first part of the Memoir - the account of Owen's life until he emigrated to England at the age of fifteen in March 1853. The second part of the Memoir which will be published in the 1985 issue, le cuidiu De, deals with his life in England, his emigration to the U.S.A. in 1869 and his life in, as the ballad makers used to say, 'Columbia, the land of the free'. He died in June 1924, so obviously the dire hardships of his early days had not affected too seriously his strong and robust constitution. It is interesting to note that Owen Mangan was born in the same district as Mary Jane Hill-Anderson (1827 - 1924) Part of whose enthralling Autobiography - that part dealing with her life in Ireland - was published in the 1983 issue of this journal. Both these stories bring vividly before our eyes a picture of life in East Cavan before, during, and after, the Famine of 1845-47. It was a life of hardship, poverty and starvation enriched only by the glimpses we get of kindly people prepared to share with neighbours what little they had. What a contrast with present day times, for example, is Owen's account of his journey to Drogheda where he spent a might sleeping in a house the owners of which had never known of him before that evening but who felt genuinely sorry for the young boy. No need for strong locks or burglar alarms in those days of Christian charity! One would be tempted to comment at length on many aspects of the lifestyles portrayed in this Memoir and on such matters as education, linen weaving, food, cruelty to children, travelling etc. etc. but this temptation has to be resisted and the account must be let speak for itself. Perhaps at a future date we shall analyse in detail both Mary Jane Hill-Anderson's Autobiography and Owen Mangan's Memoir and from the information available in them write an account of life in this area of our county during those years of radical change in many aspects of life in Ireland. We might just mention en passant the matter of population. Cullies townland in which Owen Mangan was born had, just before his birth 21 homes; today it has but 12; Knockalosset nearby had then 35 homes but today it has but five. It is regrettable that he does not make any reference at all to the language people spoke. Irish would have been spoken by very many of the people he met particularly in the 'mountains' in Knockbridge parish where his Aunty Betty lived but then we must remember that he was telling the story of his life for the benefit of his descendants and happenings were all that mattered and not habits or customs except in so far as they affected his life. As we read this Memoir we gradually begin to feel a great affection for this young lad, Owen Mangan, who emerges from all his misadventures as a kindly enterprising and attractive young man whose outlook on life never became soured by the many quite horrendous events of his youth. All emigrants from Ireland in those days were, to use the 'in' word at the moment, escapists, escapists from poverty and starvation, in short from a way of life that offered no hope of better things. Owen, in a manner of speaking, had from early childhood learned to run away from circumstances that threatened danger. Like so many other emigrants, as he crossed the broad Atlantic he looked back on poverty but forward to affluence. Owen, unlike many others, prospered. Here then in his own words, is Owen Mangan's account of his childhood years in Ireland; we have left it exactly as he wrote it; we have changed nothing but the punctuation which we have modernised and the spelling of words ending in 'our'; we have used the traditional English spelling rather that the American which Owen favoured e.g. we have changed 'favor' to 'favour'. We also, of course, put in the sub-titles. The Owen Peter Mangan Memoir Life in Billy Hill I was born on the first Aug. 1838 in the townland called the Billy Hill in the Co. of Cavan, Ireland. Now whether I was born on the first of August or not, I cannot say for a positive fact. Neither could my mother, but the nearest she could come to it was that I was a baby in arms the night of the big wind, which occurred on the 29th of January, 1839. And if I asked her how old I was on the night of the big wind she would always say I was a fine lump of a boy, and about six months old. Therefore I selected the first of Aug. 1838, as my birthday and held on to it through life in order to avoid conflicting statements of age. My father was a drover, that is a man who buys cattle and drives them from town to town and sells to the highest bidder. My mother's name was Connell; Margaret; she always claimed to be a relation of the great Dan O'Connell.(1) How she claimed relationship I cannot tell, though I suppose she told me but I have forgotten. Her home was in the parish of Kill Co.Cavan. I don't know how Father got acquainted with Mother, but he bought, before he got married, a nice little farm of 20 acres not far from Mother's people's home.(2) It was good, but he still kept droving cattle. He was also owner of twenty acres of good land from which he [Image displayed here] This is a copy of the first page of the Memoir of Owen Peter Mangan, dated January 3rd, 1912. It has been kindly made available by his great-grandson, Mr Gerry Fitzgerald, 817 West End Avenue, New York, N.Y. raised enough to support his family which consisted of five sons, I being the youngest at the time of which I speak. My mother was a fine, strong, healthy woman and took good care of the home when father was on the road selling his cattle. In those early days there were no railroads, no means of shipping cattle from place to place except on foot, so that sometimes father would be away from home a long time travelling from town to town, buying and selling, and consequently Mother had the sole charge of the family and that was a big responsibility as there were five boys of us, and no sisters. Therefore, it was not to be wondered if she complained a little of her hard lot. Christmas of 1836 Father came home with a determination to try something else that would keep him more at home and at the same time enable him to keep the family. About 3 miles from where we lived there was a very thriving town called Cootehill. It was known all over Ireland for its flax market, which was held every second Wednesday of each month. It occurred to Father that he might avail himself of this market if he had something to sell. But flax was out of his line. After he and Mother deliberated for a long time they finally decided to go into the bacon, eggs, and butter business which they followed up for some time with profit. Still Father complained of having too much spare time on his hands, particularly in the Winter. About 75 yards from our house there was a small lake? Although not large, it was very handsome and the water very good. Whiskey making in Ireland at this time was very profitable, if you could do it without the government finding you out. Here was a temptation for Father, nobody was better located that he. Just run a pipe underground to pump up the water and another to carry off the waste. I mean the dirty water, washing off barrels, and so forth Our house was about a quarter of a mile from the main road, and that was in his favour. So, after talking it over with Mother he set to work, got everything necessary for the making of whiskey and followed it up for six months and was making money. However an envious neighbour gave him away at the end of six months, whereupon he was arrested, tried, found guilty, and sentenced to serve one year in the House of Correction. After serving six months he took seriously ill. He was sent home and died shortly after. To add to Mother's affliction, a baby brother ten days old, died about the same time and was buried in the same grave with Father. I was then two years old, James was four, William six, John eight, Terence ten. My poor mother was in great sorrow after her loss; how was she going to bring up a family of 5 tough boys on a small farm of 20 acres, The nearest school was two miles away. That was too far to send children on foot and cold. My Father was a man who believed in educating children, and although he could hardly afford it, he employed a man to come in the evenings to our house and teach my brothers who were old enough to learn. This man's name was Francis Mullen. He was educated for the priesthood, but in his Philosophical Year he changed his mind and became a schoolmaster. His mother was living at the time he was teaching my brothers. I remember nothing of him at this time, I being only two years old at the time of Father's death but I have heard since from my brothers that they all hated him cordially on account of his Mother who used to come and billet herself on Mother a week at a time. Moreover he was cranky and bad tempered with my brothers although I am told he was very religious.(4) However that may be I don't know, but I do know that he offered Mother his hand in marriage, which she accepted, and they were married in less than a year after Father's death. This event scattered our family so that we never after met under the same roof. My older brother Terence hired with a farmer named Whitfield, a Quaker in religion, but by all accounts a good man. He remained with him for five years and saved enough money to bring him to this country. He settled down in New Orleans about 1845 and died with yellow fever in 1847. Brother John went to sea and we never heard from him till the Fall of 1851. We were living in Drogheda at the time. He found us out after much hard work and told us that he had been shipwrecked and lost everything he had but the clothes he had on. He stayed a week with us and then disappeared. We never saw or heard of him from that day till this. William went to the North of England, I think it was Durham, and settled down. He married young. In 1857 he was suspected of Fenianism and there was a warrant out for his arrest, but he stole away in the night and came out to this country and settled down in Philadelphia. He brought out his family shortly after went into the coopering business and made money. After Mother got married, or shortly after, they sold out the farm and disposed of everything. They put James and me in the care of old Lettie Sharp.(5) Then they started up to Dublin. How long they remained there I do not know.(6) At the time Mother married my stepfather I was only about three years old and brother James was five. We were both under the same care of an old woman, Lettie Sharp her name was, and she was as sharp as her name would imply. "Oh didn’t we get the stick!"; the last time I remember receiving a little taste of it was one night we were sent out to wash our feet in a little steam that meandered past our house, for we were living in the country at this time. It was I think in November and the water was very cold, so cold that I only washed one foot, thinking I could fool the old woman. But no sir! She got her eye on the other black foot and down came the stick and a blackthorn at that! Now we had been taking in potatoes that day and about ten barrels were filled up in the corner of the kitchen letting them dry previous to packing them away for the winter. There was a lot of straw round them to keep them from scattering round the kitchen. Well, when I saw the blackthorn coming I ran for safety and my only chance was, as I thought to mount the potato bin. So I made a run, but the blamed potatoes gave way under my weight, and the old woman could just reach me with her stick. Well I kicked and roared and potatoes flew round the kitchen and it made the old lady more mad than ever. I thought when she would get through that I would never be able to walk again. Brother James scooted to bed but he had come down again to help me to get the potatoes in place again. This was I think, my first awakening to reason and I am sure it was the last time old Lettie Sharp used the blackthorn on me. Brother James went away the next day and found out where Mother was living. He came back and told me they were living in the county of Monaghan in a place called Raw and that my Stepfather was teaching school. I was then about five years old, so I stole off from old Lettie and brother James and I started off for Mother. What become of Brother James after that I never heard till I went to England years after. Someone bought me word that my Stepfater had a position in Drogheda and that James was living with him and was studying to be a druggist. He did not remain long at that for the next I heard he was learning the drygoods with James Vallely & Co. in Newry. He remained there till the commencement of the war in Italy. He then joined the Pope’s army under Major O’Riely. He fought in many battles, got a slight wound in the knee, but got better and remained until Garibaldi won the day. Then the Pope’s army was disbanded and came back to Newry. He opened a gent’s furnishing store and made money fast. In a short time he married a lady named Miss Murphy by whom he had one daughter. But she died young and the Mother lamented her loss so much that she did not long survive her. He came out to this country and left his family behind. He went into the linen business and made money and soon brought out his family. His wife did not enjoy good health and soon died leaving him with five children, four sons and a daughter, whom he gave a good education to. He died in 18?? from pneumonia. A CHANGE OF SCENE Now I will leave my brothers and talk about myself. As I previously remarked, my first awakening was when old Lettie woke me up with the blackthorn for only washing one foot instead of two. Well, I remember the next impression I had was a clout on the earhole from my Stepfather for not having my ABC’s off. My Stepfather was then teaching school under the government in the townland of Raw in the County Monaghan.(7) We lived happy there for about three years. Only one affliction got into our family. That was the smallpox which I caught in a neighbour’s house. I had only about fifty spots on me but my stepbrother got it bad. It was a hard time for poor Mother but we got over it, thank God. The next great event in my life, or rather the greatest wonder that I ever witnessed, occurred on Easter Sunday, to the best of my opinion in 1845. I have often heard tell of people talking about the sun dancing but I have never met with anyone who ever witnessed it but myself. Our house was built on the edge of a road facing a large meadow. It was low, flat country and when the sun rose there was nothing to obstruct our view. The morning was mild with a little fog rising from the meadow. My Stepfather was up early, no doubt he was looking for the Phenomena. All at once we heard his voice crying out "Mother get up! Children! get up, and see the sun dancing" We were all out in a minute. My Mother threw on a wrap and we fell on our knees outside the door. My Stepfather was saying the litany of Jesus. We remained there about fifteen minutes and by that time the sun had got so strong that the beautiful sight disappeared. I would like to give a description of how it appeared but I have not got the language. It appeared to send forth transparent leaves resembling shamrock. They rose up in myriads from the sun and were wafted along the whole expanse of heaven and fell gently as snowflakes before our eyes in the meadow. It was the grandest sight I have ever seen and I got up many an Easter Sunday since, but never did see them (?) move. Those few years spend in Raw schoolhouse were the only years of my life that I can look back to as happy days of childhood. We left there when I was about eight years old and settled down in another school near Cootehill in the county of Cavan. The reason that my Stepfather left the Raw schoolhouse was that he would not read passages out of the Protestant Bible to the children. But, strange to say, the Government employed him again and did not compel him to read the Bible. We remained there during the two terrible years of famine and Oh! those were awful times! I never, I think during those two years got a good square meal. My Stepfather’s salary was only two pounds a year.(9) In ordinary times we could live on it but in those days of famine it did not half supply our wants. But he got into two private families to teach their boys during the Winter and that helped out some. The teaching used to keep him out late of evenings. Mother would stay up and as a general rule would have a little snack (as she used to call it) for the Master when he would come home. I remember one night I went to bed and left no water in. It was my job to bring in the water and toward eleven o’clock I felt the bed clothes pulled off me and a well-known voice says "You went to bed and left no water, eh," and then I felt the sting of a willow switch round my Hardy that made me jump the height of myself. The well was out in a meadow about three hundred yards from the house. I had to cross a little bridge that spanned a running stream and we always fancied that ghosts or the old boy kept guard on the bridge looking out for bad boys at night. As luck would have it, it was a moonlight night and I could see anything if it came along, But still my heart was in my mouth till I crossed the bridge coming back, and as I did not see anything, I said quite loud that the devil was not as bad as people said he was. Of course, if he heard me, it would be a feather in my cap and we could be on better terms, should I ever meet him. I reached he house in safety and banged the door after me. But unfortunately Mother kept a nanny goat, a very good milker, but as cross a goat as ever ate a tin can or kettle. She and I had many battles to see who was boss. She was lying very comfortably behind the door in a snug place Mother had prepared for her to lie in after Mother went to bed. She was boss of the hall and did not like to be disturbed after once lying down. Well thinking of the devil I forgot the goat and just as I went past her she made one spring and landed me and my pail of water bang up against the kitchen door. I gave a terrific scream. Mother and my Stepfather sprang to their feet. When they opened the door they found me and the goat hors de combat. The goat was standing on hind legs ready to make another spring at me and I reached the kitchen with just enough water to make a cup of tea I shall never forget that night’s experience. Mother gave me leave to take a good stick next day and give her a good whaling which I did. I met her out on the lawn and challenged her. She accepted it and met me with her head down. I stepped a little to one side and seized her by the horns with my left hand and laid on her side with my stick till she begged for mercy. We were the best of friends ever after. But she was still so cross and ugly that Mother had her killed and we ate her. Thus ends the tale of a goat! In May of 1849, one Monday evening, my Stepfather was a little sick and stayed in bed. The children came to school as usual, and, as there was no master, they were raising Cain round the school. Then who should walk in but the Government Inspector. Mother went out to meet him and told him that Master Mullan was sick and could not attend. He said he ought to have made some provision and have the children sent home rather than have them running wild. He reported him to the school board in Dublin and his pay was stopped right off. He remained there four or five months after that and never received another penny, although he taught the children as usual. He petitioned the board but all to no use. We were pretty poor at this time. During the Famine there was a system of relief established for the poor in every district and we had to avail of it. It consisted of bread made from rice and flour, the rice having been first boiled; it ate well. Then there was meal, tea and sugar in small quantities. This was distributed twice a week and it kept us from starving. In the meantime, my Stepfather found me a job with a farmer named Paddy Markey, to take his cattle out in the morning and keep them from jumping fences into neighbours’ lots. I liked the job very well, only I had no shoes. In fact I had not known what shoes felt like for I never had had a pair of my own at this time. I remember the mornings as they were frosty, it being the Fall of the year, and I had to go through stubble fields, that is, fields that the corn and wheat had been cut from. Well it did not matter how I tried. The sharp Stubbles would run up between my toes and make them bleed and many a cry I had. But it was all compensated for by the good times at home. Paddy had a pet pig. The mother died when she was young so he brought her up in the kitchen. She didn’t like strangers, I remember the first meal I had there; it was supper and we had a fine basket of potatoes set in the middle of the floor with a noggin of buttermilk. I was enjoying myself thinking what a snap I had fallen into, when all at once I was seized by the rump by the pet pig, and I’ll be danged if she didn’t take a piece as big as a half dollar out of me and she left (a) hole in my pants, which was worse. Then I had another fight on my hands for Paddy told me to take a stick and whale her. I did it and ever after, when she would meet me, she would very respectfully take the other side, with a sharp eye on me. Paddy had a good wife and three lovely daughters, Margaret, 22; Bridget, 20; and Rosie, about 18. They were good girls and went to church every Sunday in their turn, for they had only one pair of shoes between them, Mr. and Mrs.Markey went every Sunday. I was only a little boy about ten so I did not have to go. Besides, I had no shoes Well, I used to like Sunday to come, for when Pa and Ma went to church the girls that stayed at home always made a little feast of some kind or other, and as I was let in on the feast, I had to keep my mouth shut, and you bet I did. It was a long way to the church so that they did not get home till towards one o’clock. The feast commenced about eleven. It consisted sometimes of good tea with potato cakes and fresh butter and sometimes tea, oatcakes , eggs and flour. We had always plenty of eggs and butter for the feast. I think I stayed there about three or four months. Then my Stepfather got a position in Bailieborough as Assistant Superintendent in the Poor House so Mother wanted me home to help them move.(10) The distance was about ten miles and when I reached home I remember my Stepfather says "Well, how are you doing?" "Oh the best way I can" I replied. I think he left the next day for his new job. Mother sold all the furniture she could dispose of, and what she could not, she left in the schoolhouse. Our living apartments adjoined the school and, as my stepfather still held the key, we could use it as we liked In those days, there were no such things as moving teams, and no means of travel, only walk, except you owned your own horse and team and as we were not fortunate enough, we had to walk. My Stepfather took Frank, the oldest of my stepbrothers with him. I think they started on Monday morning and Mother and I and the two youngest boys on Thursday. We started pretty early in the morning and made five long Irish miles before evening. The youngest boy, Charley, was only about four years, so I had to carry him on my back the most of the way. Pat was between six and seven. He had to walk. We put up that night with some friends on the South side of the lake in the Townland called the Billy Hill not far from the place where I was born. After a good night’s rest on a bed of fresh straw, A good breakfast of oatmeal for me and the boys, and Mother refreshed with tea and toast and a fresh egg, we started off for the other leg of our journey, five miles more, which we concluded about six o’clock in the evening. Mother and the boys got a very warm reception but not so with me. My Stepfather asked Mother what on earth she did bring me up for. "I couldn’t get here without him"" said she, "He carried your boy on his back nearly All the way". "It don’t matter" said he. "There is no room here for him and he will have to go back." "Well, where will he go to" said Mother "Let him go back to the schoolhouse and he will get something to do" said my stepfather. Mother objected but it was no use. After she and he had debated all night, I had to go. I will admit they were cramped for room. I think they only had a bedroom and kitchen. However, morning came and I had a good breakfast and was ready for anything. Poor Mother was heart-broken, at least she seemed so. She kissed me and gave me all the advice in her power, to be good and not to forget my prayers. Sixpence was all she had between her and death, which she gave me, and I started off for Cootehill, ten miles away to take possession of the school house, where my Stepfather had taught for four months and received no pay. He told me to hold the key until the Government would make a settlement with him, which they never did. I reached the school in the evening sometime. I don’t remember just when. The first thing was where to have supper. Now, there was a good mild lady who taught the girls upstairs, there being two separate rooms, one for the boys whom my stepfather taught and one for Mrs. O’Riely who taught the girls upstairs. "Now," said I to myself," Mrs. O’Riely would like to hear the news, so I will step up and probably she will ask me to have supper." It worked like a charm, I had a good supper and Mrs. O’Riely told me to be sure and come to breakfast. They had no family that I remember, so I did a lot of chores for Mrs. O’Riely, and was always sure of something to eat. I was sure of a place to sleep, as I had the keys of the school and our tenement downstairs which had three rooms - two bedrooms and a kitchen. We had a large table in the kitchen with pans and dishes that Mother could not take. there was also a bed and bedding, so, take it all in all I was not very badly off. But I had no money Now a thought struck me whereby I might raise some money. Passing by our door you would always see a teamster driving a two-wheel cart with long shafts carrying loads of merchandise from town to town, sometimes as many as a dozen of them together. Now there was a little brook running by our back door and along its banks the grass grew almost one yard high. Now nobody claimed that grass and why could I not cut it, put it in bundles, and sell it to the draymen. I borrowed a hook, cut a whole forenoon, bundled it up, and sold it to the draymen in the afternoon at one penny per bundle. In that afternoon I cleared sixpence from the sale. Next day I cut all the long grass in sight and always met a ready sale. At the end of the week brother William called to see me. Where he had been working I can't tell, but I suppose he was working for a farmer. He was a big fellow, I thought, for he brought me into Cootehill and bought me a suit of clothes and found me a place to stay with a friend of my Mother's where they wanted boys to do chores round the house and look after the cattle. But no pay that I remember! LIVING NEAR COOTEHILL William was very angry at my Stepfather for using me so harshly. I don't think he ever met him again. William went to England shortly after and I never met him again till I came to America in 1869. We bid Mrs O'Riely goodbye and I thanked her heartily for her kindness and started off for Barney Wiggins's at a place called Bawn Gate. Barney was a gamekeeper for Sir Richard Coote. He was a good, bighearted fellow, always ready to tell a joke, and liked a glass of whiskey, and many a time I had in to trot in to Cootehill for a quart, and that was about three long miles. But then I wouldn't think no more about ten than I would of three. Barney was an old pensioner. He had served twenty one years in the English Army and consequently drew a nice pension. He had a nice amiable wife and three children, Katie 9, Johnny 7, and young Barney 2 years. The happiest days of my young life were spent in this house. I used to go out with Mr. Wiggins, as we called him, for he held a very exalted position, being gamekeeper for the Lord Coote.(11) Well as I say, I used to go out with him when he would go a-shooting, for he would have to send in his turn a certain amount of game and fish up to the house. There were many gamekeepers as well as he. It was about fifteen miles round his domain and they each supplied the house in their turn. Well, it was great fun for me to go out with Mr. Wiggins on expeditions of this kind. Besides, I carried the game, hares, partridges, and pheasants. For fish we set night lines and we caught pike and salmon. I remember going out one morning with rod and line and catching a bushel basket in an hour, great large bream fish, It was a shame to see that lake teeming with beautiful fish and no one allowed to catch any except the gamekeepers, If we took a walk into the wood we could see thousands of rabbits and hares, deer and other game. There was no church nearer than Cootehill, but a priest used to bring a few young men on Sunday to teach catechism. We met out in a little fort, where there were 40 or 50 pine trees, and we would sit down on the grass and learn our catechism. I learned my catechism in about three months from cover to cover and got confirmed, but I cannot remember whether the bishop came to the fort, or whether we went into the town. But I know I got confirmed for I remember the slap he gave me on the cheek. A sad, or rather a bad, piece of business on my part, caused me to leave the Wiggins family forever. When Mr. Wiggins left the Army he received his own army rifle from the government. This is the gun which he did all his shooting with. Mr. Wiggins was away from home for a few days one month and on one of those days, early in the morning, Mrs. Wiggins having gone to milk, she left me in charge of the house. There was a baby about two years old in the cradle and the other two children had not got up. I looked around to see how I could amuse myself when, all at once, my eye rested on the gun which hung over the mantle together with his powder flask and caps. Here was a chance for fun. I got a chair, mounted up, and took down the gun. I put a cap on the nipple, as one had to do with all the old rifles. I used to see Mr. Wiggins, after cleaning out his guns, put an explosive cap on to blow out any dust that might be in the barrel. Well, she had a powerful strong cock and (it was) hard work to put it up. However I managed it, and put a cap on. It was as much as I could do to carry the old thing round, but I went to the door and aimed at birds. I probably would have killed one, only my finger was not strong enough to pull the trigger. I then aimed it at the kid in the cradle but, thank God, it did not go off. "Gee" said I to myself, "I'll make this go off." There was a nice oak table in the kitchen, nearly new. I put the muzzle on the table, planted the stock hard to my shoulder, put a finger of each hand to the lock, and pulled with all my might. BANG, she went, and the force of it knocked me across the kitchen. "Lord", said I, "I'm killed." Of course the gun fell to the floor and my head felt as if in the inside was blown out, leaving only an outside covering remaining. When I came to my senses, I began to sidle up to the child in the cradle who was roaring murder. The others came running down in their night clothing. All was confusion. I put the gun in its place, then ran to the door to see if Mrs. Wiggins was coming. Sure enough, she was close at hand. I ran to wipe the table down, when OH HORRORS! (I saw) a round hole in the table about the breadth of a silver dollar, cut out as clean as if cut by a circular saw. It was the old story, the gun was loaded and I didn't know it. As soon as she entered she could smell the powder and she asked what was the matter. I told the exact truth and all she said was that Barney would kill me when he came home. But I had already made up my mind that Barney would not get the chance for I would go home to Mother. Barney was expected home that evening, so after breakfast I stole up to my room, put on two pairs of pants and two shirts, and went out through the back door into the woods. I sat down at the foot of a tree to think it over and, after thinking and crying for a while, I fell fast asleep. How long I slept I don't know. It must have been near noon when I woke up. By then my mind was made up. I turned my back on the Bawn Gate and the best of friends forever and started for Cootehill. One hour in Cootehill and then off to the mountains to Aunt Betty's, as we called my mother's younger sister, Elizabeth McCabe. THE MOUNTAINS AND THE JOURNEY TO DROGHEDA She was with her husband and five children, got a precarious living on thirty acres of land. It was pretty good land, though, for the raising of potatoes, flax and corn. They had three cows, one horse, and a donkey, lots of hens and pigs, and, I think, I stayed a couple of weeks with them while they were taking in their flax crop. At that time, I was worth my keep driving either the horse or donkey. To my surprise, they informed me that Mother and family had moved to Drogheda. That was about thirty six Irish miles away. My Stepfather did not like his position as Assistant Superintendent in the Workhouse, so he went to Drogheda and got a good position as a clerk in the Marsh Mills-those were linen mills, or rather mills where they took in the flax and manufactured it into yarn ready for the loom. I made up my mind I would go and see Mother. Aunty Betty put me up a lot of oatcake and gave me sixpence. I started off at seven o' clock for Drogheda. I got about twelve miles on the road and it was drawing near evening and about time to think where I was going to put up for the night. Looking off to my left, I saw a farmer digging potatoes for the supper, so I stepped up to him and told him where I was going and where I came from and asked him if he would put me up for the night. I told him that all the money I had was sixpence and that he could have it. "Take that basket, sonny," says he, "and gather up those praties, and we will have supper, and I think the old woman can find a place for you to sleep." I thanked him, and soon picked up the praties, as he called them, and we went into the house. He had only two children and his wife, she being a very nice kind woman. When she heard my story, she felt like adopting me for one of her own. The potatoes were soon boiled and emptied out on the baskets. We each got our noggin of buttermilk with a plate of pepper and salt, in the middle of the basket and we all went at them and enjoyed them and we did not look for dessert either. About seven thirty we were all ready for bed. The good lady made a good bed of straw for me in the kitchen as they had only two sleeping rooms. I told them I would start early as I had a long way to go next day. I wanted to reach Drogheda if possible, next day. I slept the sleep of the just till six o'clock in the morning, pulled on my little panties and started off, no breakfast. I did not need any. I had a good hunk of Aunty Betty's hard tack left, and I ate it on the way, and could find plenty of nice spring water when I was dry. I had skelpt along about five miles when I was overtaken by the stage coach. We called it the Long Car. It would seat about twelve passengers, six each side, and you might in a pinch sit one with the driver. When it had passed me I followed after it, caught up to it, and was congratulating myself on the help I was deriving by hanging on behind when the driver lashed out with his whip and just missed me by an inch. Oh! Wasn't I mad. I would have pinked him with a stone only I was afraid I might hit some of the passengers. I think there were about eight of them. However, I teased him for about a mile. I kept running alongside of the car and sometimes by the horses. He couldn't run away from me. There was a good natured gent, a man about fifty, and his wife, going to Drogheda and he shouted to me "Where are you going? To Drogheda?" He turned to the driver and said something. I suppose he asked how much to take me to Drogheda. Then after a few words he stopped the car and made room for me and beckoned me up. I hope and pray that the gentleman's soul is in heaven for that kind act. Well I felt as big as the Lord Mayor of London. After we chatted awhile, and he had found out all about me, he began to tell me things and pointed out places of interest on the way. Among the many he pointed out were the ruins of Tara castle in the County Meath. We didn't reach Drogheda till seven o'clock and then I had to hunt Mother up. I thanked the gentleman in my boyish way and bid goodbye to all the passengers (but that did not include the driver). I started off to find Mother which I did after some time. They were living in a part of the city called The Mall. I got a good hearty welcome from Mother and the boys, but the old man was gruff. He wanted to know how I found them out. I told him Aunt Betty had told me and he said why did I not stay with Aunt Betty. I told him that I preferred to stay with Mother. LIFE IN DROGHEDA I was too young to go to work so I was sent to school for, I think, about one year. I remember my schoolmaster, his name was Mansfield, and he was a cruel son of a gun. He would flog the boys most unmercifully for the least fault. I was glad to get away from school. I wanted to go to work. My Stepfather got me a job in the Marsh Mill where he was bookkeeping. I got half a crown a week and I think I worked six months and never had a raise. My Stepfather lost his job and I was glad of it. He was kind of religious about this time and made a rule to say so many prayers a day. One morning he slept so long he did not have time to say the usual quantity of prayers. So when he got into the office and closed the gates, for along with bookkeeping he had to take charge of the gate, he dropped down on his knees to finish his prayers when who bounced in but Mr. McMaster, the owner. Mr. Mullen remained on his knees till he finished his prayers, then he turned around and said "Good morning" to the boss. "Mr. Mullen," said Mr. McMaster, "is this a factory or is it a church?" "I know it is a factory," said my stepfather, "but I was a little late this morning and I did not have time to say them at home. I thought I would finish them here." Mr. Mullen, said he, "You may take one weeks notice. I want a man who will attend to his work during working hours and pray in the proper place." Mr. Mullen worked one week more, and left. I was very glad for I was tired working for half a crown a week. There was a cotton mill not long built and it was owned by a man named Johnny Oats. He wanted a man to travel through Ireland to sell his cotton cloth. Mr. Mullen applied for the job and got it. The mill was built on the banks of the Boyne, in a place the Green Hills. It was about one half mile from Drogheda. This was a very good position for Mr. Mullen, only it kept him away from home a good deal. I did not care if it kept him away all the time, of course. I got a job in the cotton mill right away. The first job was pulling the filling off the paper tubes that came from the weavers. I had to sit all day at that job and did not like it. My next job was carrying weft, or filling, to the weavers from the storeroom. This job just suited me for the girls would give me candy and do anything for me if I would bring them good filling. We had one good spinner named Tom Davie who always made good filling and, of course, all my favourites got Davie's filling. I got the girls to teach me how to make a weaver's knot, and draw the threads. In fact, I soon learned many things about that craft. There was one loom inside the door and when I thought I was capable of running it I asked the Loom, as he was called, if he would let me have it. And he did. Then my pay went up to three shillings a week. I only worked on it about six weeks when I asked for another loom. Then my pay went up six shillings per week but never went over that as long as I remained in Ireland. My money was always turned up to Mother. She gave me three pence, or four, and if I was a good boy I got sixpence. At this time Mother had a little provision store. She was always of a business turn of mind and when I would come home in the evening I would help Mother in the store. I was her right bower (?) and that's how I came to get sixpence occasionally. All went well with me till March, 1853. In this month a little trouble started up between Mother and me that caused me to leave home for good. Seventeenth of March, of course is always a strict holiday in Ireland, and, of course the factory closed down. The cloth that I was weaving was paid for at eighteen pence a cut. Well, through being off on St Patrick's Day, I missed a cut of each loom, which made three shillings less of the week, just half of the week’s pay. Mother could not see how I could lose three shillings for one day when I only earned six shillings per week. She was very angry on Saturday when I brought my pay home although I did my best to explain. My Stepfather happened to be home that week. When Sunday morning came, Mother was getting breakfast ready. Mr Mullen was dressing in his room. Mother began to complain about the three shillings shortage. She said something that made me angry and I retorted saucily back. Whatever I said I do not remember, but my stepfather ran out of his room to chastise me but I happened to be near the front door so I cleared out and slammed it on Mr Mullen. He never saw me again till 1860, when he came over to England to see me and stayed a month, at this time his boys had learned trades and they had moved to Dublin. His old employer Johnny Oats had failed and the factory was stopped. I never met Mother again till 1869 when I met her in Philadelphia. That Sunday morning when I missed the wallop from my stepfather I went direct to one of my chum's house, named Andy Heeney, Andy was a big, good natured fellow and I had breakfast with him. I told them why I had left home and they said I would be back in the evening. We all went to mass and after dinner Andy and I went and hunted up two more chums and we all made up our minds we would all go to England that evening. The fare was only two shillings and we had all been saving up a little money with the intention of going to England sometime. And now was the time. So we started off that Sunday evening on board the Leinster Lass and arrived in Liverpool on Monday morning at 5 o'clock on the 27th March 1853. We went straight to Preston. It is about 18 miles from Liverpool. We heard of it being cotton manufacturing town. That was what we wanted. After a few unsuccessful attempts to get a job, we finally struck it rich at a factory owned by a man named Humbers. We got only two Looms to start with but we could earn 10 shillings and a penny per week. That was 4 more than I could earn in Ireland. I was then in my sixteenth year and must now shift for myself, in earnest. [To be continued in The Heart Of Breifne 1985, Deo Volente.] FONOTAI 1. The O'Connells of Munterconnacht Parish Claim that their ancestors retreated to County Cavan from the battle of Kinsale in 1601. The O'Connells of Kill parish may have had some such tenuous connection with the South-West of Ireland. 2. The Knockbridge Tithe Lists for 1828 show that John Mangan had 1 acre, 3 roods and 16 perches of land rented in Knockalossett, A Greville Rent List for 1833, shows that he was joined with a John Banan is paying £4/9/6 rent for a small farm in Knocknalossett. The twenty acres of land he speaks of in Kill parish may have been used on a yearly basis to graze cattle purchased in Cootehill fairs till he had an opportunity to dispose of them. The "20 acres of good land" on which he supported his family may be exaggeration. He was never the "owner" of land; like most other farmers he was just a tenant. 3. The 75 yards between the site of Mungan's house and Killaliss Lake seems indeed to have been the correct distance. Again and again in the course of his Memoirs, Owen Mangan displays a phenomenal memory for numbers and dates. 4. We gather from the Second Report of the Commissioners of National Education (1835) that Francis Mullan, a R.C., received £8 per annum for teaching in Killaliss pay-school: 6 pupils of the Established Church, 13 pupils of the Presbyterian Church, 12 pupils of the R.C. Church. The school received no outside support, so the £8 salary must have been pupils' fees. The building was of lime and stone. Mullan’s hot temper led to his dismissal when he “whipped ten boys, the eldest of whom was fifteen years of age, for some slight offence and compelled them to take off all their clothes before the whole schoolâ€Â. (See Mary Jane Hill’s Autobiography in the Heart Of Breifne, 1983.) During Mary Jane’s period at school, Mullan’s predecessor. Terence Brady, pulled an ear off William Bannon, another pupil at the school. 5 John Sharpe and Letitia Thompson, his wife, of Drumcondra, had four Children baptised in Corroneary Presbyterian Church between 1799 and 1815. 6 It is strange that Owen Mangan did not know why his father went to Dublin for a short period. As we find him on his return acting as National Teacher in Raw National School, it is likely that he had gone to a crash course of training to fit him for work under the Commissioner of National Education. This training was done in the Model Schools in Marlborough Street. 7 Raw is the name of a townland of 150 acres in the parish of Aughnamullen in County Monaghan, between Cootehill and Ballybay. The school was evidently under Protestant management. The Manager had requested the master to use the Authorised Version of the Scriptures during the time devoted to Scripture Reading. No rule of the Commissioners bound the teacher to obey, so the Manager dismissed the teacher. The Government had then to withdraw Mangan’s salary. While working in the payschool at Killaliss Mangan had willingly taught the pupils to read the A.V of the Scriptures. 8 The context would lead one to infer that Mangan’s second National School was at Dernakesh where there was a two-storey school, probably under Catholic Management. 9 The salary of £2 a year should probably have been £12. In their Tenth Annual Report (1843) the Commissioners stated that teachers had been divided into three classes to which the following salaries were attached. First or highest class £20; second £15; third £12; these were the rates for men. For women the respective figures were £15; £12; and £10. 10 The fact that Francis Mullen had to seek employment in Bailieborough Workhouse indicates that the Commissioners of National education were unwilling to recognise him for further work in National School. 11. This Coote was not a lord but just a plain Mr. He was an illegitimate son of the famous or notorious Earl of Bellamont. 12. As there was no such ruin as Tara Castle it is likely that the ruins he saw were the walls of the ancient church and other buildings on the Hill of SlaneClose