Achill Sound is a place the road passes through on the Mayo coast. In 1847 a visitor stood on the cliffs of Achill and saw the bays filled with shoals of mackerel and herring, the whole surface of the sea alive with them. Around him stood hungry people who could see this food and could not reach it. One fishing-boat and three or four curraghs were all that worked the water, where there was work for hundreds and food for thousands. A correspondent on the island proposed a loan of one hundred pounds to build and fit out ten large curraghs with lines and nets, the boats best suited to that rocky and dangerous coast. Ten boats would give employment to eight persons each, supporting eighty families of six, or four hundred and eighty individuals. He added, "you may double this, for every family who has employment will support another." Nearly a thousand people would be permanently supported by a loan of one hundred pounds. The same correspondent at Achill Sound had set up a small curing station for preserving fish not needed in the district. At Westport, twenty-five miles distant, a Scottish fishing smack was supplying the town with fish, showing the markets were not overstocked by native industry. The loan went to use. One hundred destitute Achill tenants were taken from Westport workhouse and given constant fishing employment.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Achill Sound in Mayo is the place. The story goes back to a day of dead low water, when half a dozen row-boats filled with men and women were heading for the fair at Newport. They were rowing toward the Bull's Mouth, planning to enter on the first of the flood. A little hunchbacked man had settled himself among the seaweed at the entrance to the Sound. A rock had hidden him from the boats. When they came close, up popped a strange countenance topped with a scarlet nightcap. The women screamed. The men showed plain dismay. Then the dwarf jumped up on the stone and let out a wild unearthly yell that echoed from rock to rock. The boats turned straight around. Men and women alike abandoned the fair of Newport and made for home as fast as four oars could carry them. The news spread with incredible speed through Erris and Ballycroy. They said the same Leprehawn who had been seen the year before the French had reappeared, to foretell some local or national calamity. To this day the islanders have never been disabused. Tom's uncouth face and scarlet nightcap are still fearfully expected to rise over the rocks by the belated fisherman, as he runs through that dangerous opening to shelter for the night in Achill Sound.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wild Sports of the West; Interspersed with Legendary Tales and Local Sketches (1832), William Hamilton Maxwell, Internet Archive wildsportsofwest00maxwrich · source

As you pass through Achill Sound in Mayo, the story goes that a miserable dwarfish red-bearded man once lived near the Sound, a man you would think hardly able to grapple with a salmon. Yet he secured more seals than any hunter in the district, using neither gun nor spear, but a short bludgeon loaded at the end with lead. A large rock near his home, uncovered at half-tide, was the seals' favourite place to bask. On a sunny day with a favouring wind, the hunter would strip down and silently creep among the stones to steal upon his sleeping prey. The Red Dwarf, as he was called, seldom failed, and with astonishing expertness generally dispatched the seal with a single blow.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wild Sports of the West; Interspersed with Legendary Tales and Local Sketches (1832), William Hamilton Maxwell, Internet Archive wildsportsofwest00maxwrich, Chapter 35 · source

Achill Sound is a place the road passes through in Mayo. The people here lived in huts of rough cobbles and turf, in a chronic state of poverty, though the standard of living had begun to improve. Relief work in road-making was given in winter. The lace industry had grown, with Carrickmacross lace-making the staple work of many a home. There was a good deal of temporary migration to England and Scotland when agricultural labour was in demand. Workers went over in their hundreds for the potato crops in Dumfries, called "tatie coppers." In Achill there were no fences and few even of the rough stone walls forming boundaries, so a large proportion of the natives' time was taken up in herding the stock. Peat was the one blessing the islanders had. An old dame said, "It's the wan blessing we have, but what with the cutting and spreading and stacking and carrying, there's a deal of work to it!" In the height of the peat-cutting in May, it was a sight to see a fleet of as many as 80 turf-laden boats go up with the flooding tide. The scenery of Achill is most beautiful in spite of its almost treeless condition. The heights of the near islands and the mainland seen as a background to its own rock-fringed bays or stupendous cliffs would lead even the most prosaic person to enthusiasm.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 39 · source

Achill, in Mayo, is a parish the road passes near. Many of its people live in chronic poverty, plain to see in the huts of rough cobbles and turf where they dwell. The standard of living has improved, as it has elsewhere, but the hardship remains visible. In winter, relief work comes in the form of road-making. The lace industry has grown too, and Carrickmacross lace-making is now the staple work of many a home. There is a good deal of temporary migration to England and Scotland when agricultural labour is in demand. This is especially so for the potato crops in Dumfries, where workers known as tatie coppers go over in their hundreds. In Achill there are no fences and few even of the rough stone walls forming boundaries. A large proportion of the natives' time is taken up herding the stock. Peat-preserving also takes many hours of labour. An old dame said, It's the wan blessing we have, but what with the cutting and spreading and stacking and carrying, there's a deal of work to it. In the height of the peat-cutting in May it is a sight to see a fleet of as many as 80 turf-laden boats go up with the flooding tide at Achill Sound. The scenery of Achill is most beautiful, in spite of its almost treeless condition. The heights of the near islands and the mainland seen as a background to its own rock-fringed bays or stupendous cliffs would lead even the most prosaic person to enthusiasm.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Black's guide to Galway, Connemara, and the west of Ireland (1912), Adam and Charles Black (Firm), Internet Archive blacksguidetogal00adam, Chapter 38 · source

As you pass through Achill, this parish has a wild old tale. A priest here once excommunicated a man at Candlemas for bringing a girl out of Achill on a false book oath, though he already had three wives living in the parish. After the candles were quenched on him, the man turned informer for the revenue out of spite.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wild Sports of the West; Interspersed with Legendary Tales and Local Sketches (1832), William Hamilton Maxwell, Internet Archive wildsportsofwest00maxwrich, Chapter 115 · source

The children's burial ground at An Caiseal in Mayo is a recognised monument, but the Archaeological Survey of Ireland has not yet uploaded the details of this record to the Historic Environment Viewer. No description of the site, its features, or its history is available through the survey at present.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), MA055-010---- · source

As you come through Keel on Achill Island, this was a fishing village where, in the autumn of 1847, a traveller witnessed the aftermath of mass eviction. The village belonged to Sir R. O'Donnell. A few days before the visitor arrived, about twenty families had been turned out of their homes. An earlier eviction had already taken place, making roughly forty families ejected in total from this small place. The roofless dwellings stood with their charred timbers, destroyed at the instance of the landlords after the miserable inmates were turned adrift. The same scene met the eye across Mayo and much of Connaught. Landlords' agents, armed with the full powers of the law, were at work in every direction. Bailiffs were canting the small patches of oats or potatoes. Keepers were placed over the crops, whose charges in some cases amounted to as much as the rent distrained for, and these charges had to be paid by the unfortunate tenant. Even the produce of seed distributed through benevolent associations was totally swept away. The corn crops, however bountiful, were not sufficient to meet the landlords' claim for rent and arrears contracted during two years of famine. The tenant was unwilling to give up that without which he must certainly perish. And so eviction followed seizure, all of this at a time when the charity of the whole world had been turned towards the relief of this starving peasantry.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Near Keel now. The mountain district of Keim on Achill was known among visitors and locals for sheep that were exceptionally fat and full of flavour. A purveyor would buy one to supply dinner, sometimes for a party staying at the coast-guard watch-house.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wild Sports of the West; Interspersed with Legendary Tales and Local Sketches (1832), William Hamilton Maxwell, Internet Archive wildsportsofwest00maxwrich, Chapter 61 · source

Somewhere near Achill Sound, a little orphan girl crept into a hole in the bank and died alone one night. No one was there to close her eyes or wash and fit her for the grave. She died unheeded. The dogs lacerated the body, gnawed the bones, and strewed them about the bog.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Annals of the Famine in Ireland (1851), Asenath Nicholson, Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 6 · source

Somewhere around here stand the ruins of Burrishoole Friary, a Dominican house founded around 1469 by Richard de Burgo of Turlough, Lord MacWilliam Oughter. He built it without the permission of Pope Paul the Second, and it took until 1486 for Pope Innocent the Eighth to instruct the Archbishop of Tuam to forgive the friars. The church and the eastern wall of the cloister still remain, and the grounds are still an actively used cemetery. People often call it Burrishoole Abbey, though that name is inaccurate, since the Dominican order did not have abbots and their houses were not technically abbeys.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (CC BY-SA 4.0), en.wikipedia.org: Burrishoole Friary · source

Newport in Mayo is a town the road passes through. In the autumn of 1847 it was the residence of Sir R. O'Donnell, the nominal owner of the Achill estates, about 25 miles away. He stated in the presence of the visitor that he was entirely ignorant of the evictions that had taken place at Achill, even though the people who had been turned out had to pass through Newport itself on their way to the union workhouse at Westport. He had inherited 130,000 acres of entailed estates, deeply encumbered before they came into his possession. The laws governing landed property left the hereditary owner with no real control. He was struggling earnestly to obtain a sound position, and few men of his class were working more zealously. The author believed Sir R. O'Donnell was himself sensible that the removal of every restriction and privilege by which the system of nominal ownership was maintained in Ireland would benefit him. If he could sell every acre of land on which he lacked the capital to discharge the duties of ownership, it would be a blessing alike to himself and the people of Mayo. His lands, brought under fair cultivation, would supply employment to the unemployed thousands living on them. The people whom it now seemed to be his policy to drive from his property would become a source of wealth.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Newport sits on Clew Bay, and the road takes you through it. Tradition holds that Grace O'Malley's marriage to Sir Richard Bourke, called M'William, was to last only one year, after which either party could dismiss the other. During that year, Grace took care to put her own men in all his eastward castles that were valuable to her. Then one day, as the Lord of Mayo was coming up to the castle of Corrig-a-Howly near this town, Grace spied him and cried out the dissolving words, "I dismiss you." The union was dissolved. We are not told how he took the snapping of the matrimonial chain. It is likely he was not sorry to have a safe riddance of such a virago. Grace was later invited to London by Queen Elizabeth, who tried various ways of showing her attentions, but the wild daughter of the west could not appreciate the kindness of her entertainer.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 37 · source

As you come through Newport, this is a town where, in 1847, a small factory made handspun linens. The people of Connaught were familiar with the loom. Their clothing had generally been of native manufacture, and this kind of employment suited their habits. The Rector of Newport had already been working hard to promote industrial employment, to save his people from what he called the demoralising effects of a gratuitous system of relief. In his district the people were extremely poor, and their native manufactures were of the rudest description. It took firmness and patience to convert the raw Mayo men into skilled workmen and artisans, but he succeeded to a great extent. He procured a competent workman from Belfast, and obtained patterns of handspun linens of various kinds, including the Russian. He imitated these in his little factory at Newport with great success. Similar efforts were made in nearly every direction in Connaught, by clergymen and ladies who laboured strenuously to promote industrial employment, and the results proved the enterprise was well directed.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

As you come through Newport in Mayo, this was a place where one man tried to give work to people who had none. G. R. Gildea, the Protestant clergyman here, established a small linen manufactory that employed a considerable number of hand-loom weavers. During the past winter, nearly 700 women were engaged in hand skutching and spinning flax. They earned from 3s. to 3s. 6d. per week. Gildea, like many others, most strongly objected to the distribution of gratuitous relief. But that doctrine, of course, implied that work must be provided for the starving people, who were wholly unable to provide it for themselves. The landlords of Mayo, and much of the rest of Connaught, were pursuing a course that could only add to the universal wretchedness and poverty. The corn crops, bountiful as they might be, were not sufficient to meet the landlords' claims for rent and arrears contracted during the last two years of famine. It was at least not unnatural for the tenant to be unwilling to give up that, without which he must certainly perish. In every direction, the agents of the landlords, armed with the full powers of the law, were at work. Everywhere one saw the driver or bailiff "canting" the small patches of oats or potatoes, or keepers placed over the crop, whose charges in some cases amounted to as much as the rent distrained for, and had to be paid by the unfortunate tenant. Even the produce of seed distributed through benevolent associations was totally swept away. Eviction was in many cases practised, and not a few of the roofless dwellings that met the eye had been destroyed at the instance of the landlords, after turning adrift the miserable inmates, and this at a time when the charity of the whole world had been turned towards the relief of this starving peasantry.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Westport, in Mayo, in the autumn of 1847, tells a dismal story of want and cruel treatment. The poor-house here was overwhelmed with admissions of people thrown off their land. Of 100 persons admitted on a single day, nearly half were the evicted tenantry of Kiel. In the previous week 75 cases came in from Achill, nearly all of them evicted by the same landlord. The driver who ejected them gave each a recommendation to the workhouse, a scrap of paper to carry through the country. But the Union of Westport, like almost every other in that part of Ireland, was terribly in debt, in fact bankrupt. The master of the house strongly remonstrated against further admissions. He declared he had, in his own words, neither clothes nor bedding for the women and children, who formed five-sixths of those coming through his doors. How little the landlords knew of what was done on their own estates may be judged from Sir R. O'Donnell, who stated, in the writer's presence, that he was entirely ignorant of the evictions at Achill, about 25 miles from his residence at Newport, though the poor creatures, walking to the union-house, had to pass through the very town where he lived.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Reconstructed in 1938, a mausoleum stands in the grounds of Westport House. It is a small gable-fronted building of limestone ashlar on a concrete plinth, with the date 1938 cut into a stone panel. It was built over the remains of John Denis Browne, the first Marquess of Sligo, who was born in 1756 and died in 1809. It shares its unkempt setting with the house and contributes to the character of the estate.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 31212007 · source

As you pass through Westport in Mayo, you are in the family ground of Major John MacBride, the eighth rebel executed by firing squad on May 6th after the 1916 Rising. He was raised here in what the record calls an atmosphere of revolt. His paternal relatives, the Gallaghers and the Gills, were driven from Ireland for their part in physical force movements. MacBride carried that tradition far from home. He was in Johannesburg when the Boer War began, formed a brigade of 500 Irishmen, and led them against the English around Ladysmith, winning his title of Major. After the British granted amnesty to the Boers, he escaped to France, then returned to Dublin when things quietened. He married Miss Maude Gonne.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A history of the Irish Rebellion of 1916 (1916), Wells, Warre Bradley, 1892-, Internet Archive historyofirishre00welluoft, Chapter 48 · source

A holy well, Cahernamart. The well stands on the south-west edge of Westport town. It is a roadside spring named Toberavower on the OS 6-inch maps, enclosed by a cement-bonded stone structure open to the west, with a lean-to roof, dating to the modern era. There are no known local traditions linking it to a saint or ritual activities, and its status as a holy well is uncertain.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), MA088-032---- · source

Close to Westport, there was a workhouse that tells you what the famine did to these places. Ireland had 130 of them, some holding a thousand people, some two thousand, and in emergencies a few hundred more could be heaped in. Before the famine, many were worth a stranger's visit. They were clean, not crowded, and the food was sufficient. But when the famine advanced and funds decreased, the doors were besieged by people begging for a place to die, so they might be buried in a coffin. The workhouses became little else than charnel houses. The living, shivering skeletons squatted on the floors or stood with arms folded against the wall, half-clad, hair uncombed, hands and face unwashed, adding horror if not terror to the sight. Westport Union had long been celebrated for its management, and for its want of comfort in fire, food, lodging, and room. The choice was stay and die, or go out and die. When the author visited, the house was undergoing some changes.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Annals of the Famine in Ireland (1851), Asenath Nicholson, Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 10 · source

Westport, in 1798. Lord Altamont and his family had shown strong partiality for Roman Catholics and given government the warmest assurances of their loyalty. Their property was not spared. Rebels carried off his horses, cows, and sheep. They drank all the liquor in his cellars. They broke doors and windows in his house, which they would have demolished, but James Joseph McDonnell, accompanied by a French officer, took it as his own.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Memoirs of the different rebellions in Ireland, from the arrival of the English : also, a particular detail of that which broke out the XXIIId of May, MDCCXCVIII : with the history of the conspiracy which preceded it (vol. 2) (1802), Musgrave, Richard, 1745 or 1746-1818, Internet Archive memoirsofdiffere02musg, Chapter 95 · source

Somewhere around here, near Murrisk, stands the old abbey at the foot of Croagh Patrick. It has smooth stone walls in small blocks and numerous rooms inside. A place was reserved there for the burial of priests, and a pile of their leg and arm bones was left in a window to make room for fresh remains. The author who passed through wrote that the Irish appear to have no regard for their dead when the flesh is consumed, but leave the bones to bleach in the sun and the skulls to be kicked about as footballs. A branch of the Garvey family lived nearby, their house by the sea, sheltered in trees, with a three-acre garden behind it.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Annals of the Famine in Ireland (1851), Asenath Nicholson, Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16 · source

Somewhere around here is the Murrisk Millennium Peace Park, a five-acre park at the foot of Croagh Patrick overlooking the Atlantic. The landscaping was kept deliberately minimal so the views of Croagh Patrick, Murrisk Abbey and Clew Bay stay clear. That starkness also sets off the National Famine Memorial, known as the Coffin Ship, a sculpture that stands prominently in the park. President Mary Robinson unveiled that memorial on 20 July 1997, four years before the park itself opened. Minister Seamus Brennan, Chairman of the National Millennium Committee, officially opened the park on 13 July 2001. The committee had funded it with an award of £250,000. The plaque says the park was "dedicated to 2,000 years of Christian worship." A blessing was given by the Rev. Michael Neary, Archbishop of Tuam, and Rector Canon Gary Hastings. The park pays tribute to the spiritual importance of Croagh Patrick, a pilgrimage site for over 1,500 years. A short distance away are the ruins of Murrisk Abbey, founded in 1457 by the O'Malley family. There is also a natural spring pond within the park.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (CC BY-SA 4.0), en.wikipedia.org: Murrisk Millennium Peace Park · source

You are coming through Louisburgh, a village in Mayo about a mile from the sea. It has about 400 inhabitants, and the old guide calls it a dull village, as free as Athenry from all attempt to adorn itself with outward attraction. Its only piece of antiquity is a disused chapel, now converted to secular uses. There is salmon fishing in the rivers near, at 10 shillings a day, and boats can be had to visit Clare Island, to which Louisburgh is the nearest point.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Black's guide to Galway, Connemara, and the west of Ireland (1912), Adam and Charles Black (Firm), Internet Archive blacksguidetogal00adam, Chapter 35 · source

Coming up along Doo Lough now, a lake the road passes through. This is the Dhulough where a man named Antony caught a brace of three-pound trout, fresh from the sea, one morning. He told the story himself. That same morning he had killed two otters at Loughnamuckey, and the smallest of them was worth more than a pound note to him. He carried a ferret, a trap, and a fishing-rod. If he missed the otters he would net rabbits or kill a dish of trout. Late in the day he came down from the hills and went to Father Patt's house. The priest met him at the door and asked if he had anything, for the wallets seemed full. Antony pulled out two pair of rabbits and the brace of trout he had caught that morning in Dhulough. The priest told him he was never more welcome. He said the minister and himself would dine off the trout and rabbits, because they had forgotten to kill a sheep until an hour before, and except the shoulder, no part of the mutton could be touched. That evening Antony was brought into the parlour, where the priest and minister sat together. Father Patt gave him a tumbler of strong punch. A carrier stopped at the door with a letter for Mr Carson, the minister. When Carson opened it, he went pale as a sheet and nearly fainted. Father Patt crossed himself and asked if anything was wrong. The minister said some lad member had written to the bishop, telling him that Carson had no congregation because the priest and the minister were so intimate. The bishop was coming down the next day with the dean to see the state of things. The minister said he was fairly ruined.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wild Sports of the West; Interspersed with Legendary Tales and Local Sketches (1832), William Hamilton Maxwell, Internet Archive wildsportsofwest00maxwrich, Chapter 116 · source

Built by the late Marquis of Sligo on the site of an old house, Delphi Lodge is beautifully situated on the small Finlough. It stands on a rocky ledge in the midst of a fine group of Scotch firs. A little waterfall on the north side of the house is often visited by tourists, who will find no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission. Finlough, with Dhulough, the black lake, about a mile distant, and the river which flows into the Killery at Bundorragh, form perhaps the most perfect ideal of a salmon and trout fishery in the kingdom. The lessee of the Lodge held all sporting rights.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Black's guide to Galway, Connemara, and the west of Ireland (1912), Adam and Charles Black (Firm), Internet Archive blacksguidetogal00adam, Chapter 34 · source

Somewhere about Aasleagh, there's a waterfall marked as a local "lion" — meaning a noted sight for visitors. Aasleagh itself is a hamlet at the head of the Killery, a little over 2 miles from Leenane. The guidebook doesn't say much more about the waterfall than that, so enjoy it for what it is.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Black's guide to Galway, Connemara, and the west of Ireland (1912), Adam and Charles Black (Firm), Internet Archive blacksguidetogal00adam, Chapter 34 · source

This is a holy well at Glennagevlagh, close to the head of Killary Harbour. It consisted of a hollow, not a spring, now filled in, set in the south-west corner of a small drystone enclosure with an entrance on the south side. The base of a modern concrete cross stands at the west end. A fish used to be seen in the hollow, but the well has not been frequented recently.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA012-002---- · source

Letterbrickaun's holy well, Tobar Muire, stood on the side of a trackway north-east of the bridge at Leenaun village. Local tradition says it was visited each 15th of August, the Pattern Fair day, until, as the record puts it, 'travelling people washed their clothes in it and it seized up.' The well is now blocked, obscured by growth, and obliterated by a new road.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA012-003---- · source

Somewhere close to Leenaun, there was a fair where the author once saw a dance. He had to push through a gay crowd to get near it. The music was the pipes, and the players were often strangers from Munster. They were well paid, and wherever they went they were lodged and feasted for nothing. Dancing was one of the chief ways people cheered a monotonous life. In winter it was held in private houses, but in summer out in the open air, especially at patterns or religious festivals. The author happened once to meet one of these pipers, a man he found very intelligent, perhaps from his constant travelling. The piper told him that besides his wanderings in Ireland, he had visited the Scottish highlands and played at their merry meetings. He liked them much, and having attended their worship, he thought well of it.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 24 · source

As you pass along Killary Harbour, there's an old tale from these waters. Fishermen were out one night between the Killeries and Westport, and they sheltered for some hours in a sea-cave. One man fell into a deep sleep and the others left without him. He woke to seals coming in, not knowing he was there. After a while they cast off their skins and took human shape. They talked together, but their talk was sorrowful. They mourned their slain relatives. One of them held up a piece of flesh and said, 'Ah! this is Winny's' — and there the old account ends.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 9 · source

You are coming along Killary Harbour now. The name means red valley, and it is well-earned. The rocks on every side carry a curious reddish-purple tinge, so the whole place looks as though heather were blooming across it. More than elsewhere along this coast, a rich red dye for homespun wool is in great favour here with women and girls. Many a fine view across the harbour is touched up in the foreground by a flaming bit of that colour against the dark rock. The local industries are crochet-lace and tweeds, and specimens of both can be seen at Leenane, in process and finished. The direct road from Letterfrack to Leenane runs about 12 and a half miles. After passing the Post Office, for a mile and a half it becomes an avenue of fuchsias of unusual height and flower, growing in greater luxuriance than anywhere else in these islands. Letterfrack itself lies between the Twelve Pins and the sea.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 34 · source

Somewhere around here are the ruins of an old castle, and in its day this castle was celebrated for one thing above all: its eyrie of hunting hawks. The book calls Bunowen the most remarkable place along the coastal road from Roundstone to Clifden. The road itself presents a succession of islands, bays, sand-hills, and promontories, with glimpses of the open Atlantic throughout. But Bunowen stands out. The castle is gone to ruin now, but it was known for its hawks, kept and trained here when it was whole. Worth noticing as you pass along the shore is a kind of seaweed thrown up after great storms. It is called Sargasso, and those learned in such matters say it is entirely different from other Irish or British algae. They suppose it has drifted from a vast distance in the west, probably from the American coasts. Strange nuts of an unfamiliar kind have been picked up on this shore too, carried the same way. Still more common are pieces of white coral. They strew all Ballyconree Bay, to the north of Clifden, and in one place, ground down by friction against the rocks, they form a literal and most beautiful coral strand. The writer had not expected to meet with such a thing on the Irish coast. There is the extraordinary fact of the temperature of this ocean as well. In winter it is warmer by several degrees than the atmosphere. The cause is the great Gulf Stream, originating off Mexico, making the circuit of the northern seas, carrying vital warmth to an otherwise cold and barren country. Hence the genial clime and verdant fields of Ireland, instead of nine months of frost and snow as in Labrador, which sits at the same latitude. Once the system of heating houses by hot water pipes was thought to be a new invention, but here a similar plan has been at work for ages, blessing the country while they knew it not.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 101 · source

Mweelin holy well, correctly Tobar Maolín, lies just north of a graveyard within Connemara National Park. It is a natural spring, now enclosed in a small rectangular 19th-century well-house of red brick, with a gabled roof of large slabs and a doorway in the west wall. It was built to supply water to Kylemore Castle. It is reputedly associated with a St Maol or Maol Roc, but a maoilean is a ridge or rounded summit, so the saint may be a recent invention.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA023-023001- · source

Dated 1874, this is a freestanding gable-fronted mausoleum at Kylemore Abbey. It stands with a rendered barrel-vault roof and a cast-iron cross finial to the gable front, on a tooled limestone base. The walls are English bond yellow brick on a limestone plinth, with limestone-capped buttresses and square-headed bays to the side elevations. The gables have blocked round-headed recessed doorways with brick surrounds and voussoirs, the front carrying a tooled marble memorial plaque. Decorative cast-iron railings surround the structure. This small and relatively modest building was built to house the remains of Margaret Henry, wife of Mitchell Henry, who built Kylemore Castle. The mausoleum also houses the cremated remains of Mitchell Henry, who died in 1910.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 30402311 · source

This is the Letterfrack Industrial School graveyard, opened about 1890. It holds the marked burials of seventy-eight children, sixty-one of whom died in the Christian Brothers' industrial school nearby. Heart-shaped stones on stone slabs mark the burials. In the north-west half stands a monument with a white concrete cross mounted in a base and inscribed limestone plaques on each face, bearing a prayer and the names of those who died in the industrial school. A low rubble stone boundary wall encloses the graveyard, with rendered gate piers and wrought-iron gates. A pebbled pathway leads downhill to the road, where a second rubble stone boundary wall has rendered gate piers with wrought-iron gates. The graveyard was recently restored to honour the memory of the children, many of whose short lives were blighted by appalling mistreatment.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 30329008 · source

Opened about 1890, this is the graveyard of Letterfrack Industrial School. It holds the marked burials of 78 children, 61 of whom died in the Christian Brothers' industrial school nearby. The graves are marked by heart-shaped stones set on stone slabs. In the north-west half stands a monument: a white concrete cross mounted in a base, with inscribed limestone plaques on each face bearing a prayer and the names of those who died in the industrial school. A low rubble stone boundary wall encloses the graveyard, with rendered gate piers and wrought-iron gates. A pebbled pathway leads downhill to the road, where a second rubble stone wall has its own rendered gate piers and wrought-iron gates. The graveyard was recently restored to honour the memory of the children, many of whose short lives were blighted by appalling mistreatment.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA023-018---- · source

Streamstown or Barratrough is a court tomb on a ridge overlooking the inner reaches of Streamstown Bay. Part of the tomb is ruined and built into a mound. At the east end are the remains of a court: the north arm formed by three stones in line with the gallery side, the south arm by a curved line of stones. The gallery runs east-north-east to west-south-west and is divided into two chambers by a pair of transversely set jambs. The south side of the eastern chamber is missing. The remains of a house stand at the north end of the mound.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA022-069001- · source

This court tomb stands on the north shore of Cleggan Bay in Galway. The gallery runs east-south-east to west-north-west, with the front portion to the east appearing incomplete. Orthostats east of a pair of transversely set jambs may be chamber sidestones or may define a narrow asymmetrical court. West of the jambs the gallery divides into two chambers by a septal stone and jamb. The innermost western chamber is narrower and more lightly built than the rest. A large roofstone covers the eastern chamber, and a long stone, probably a displaced lintel, lies in that chamber just west of the jambs. Remains of the mound survive on the south side.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA022-014---- · source

Up ahead is Clifden, in Galway, where one of the hardest stories of 1847 took place. The Clifden Union was bankrupt, and a few days before a visitor arrived that autumn, the wretched inmates of the poor-house had been expelled and the doors closed against any further admissions. More than two-thirds of the union's population, 57,253 persons, had been receiving daily rations at one period, and the whole annual value of the union, £43,617, had been spent. Many of those expelled from the poor-house took up abode in holes and cavities in a hillside adjoining the town, where gravel had been dug. Their sunken faces and wasted forms told a tale of hunger and privation. The visitor could not forget one poor lad of about fourteen, with a hollow choking voice, who begged him for a little meal to keep the life in him. The boy's ghastly livid face and emaciated form, wasted with hunger and sores, marked him as what the visitor called a breathing skeleton, unlikely to last long in this world. The estates composing the union were mortgaged to nearly their full value, their nominal owners living in Dublin or abroad or shut up in their castles, dependants of the mortgagees who allowed them a pittance of a few hundreds a year.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog · source

Clifden, in Galway. In the famine winter of 1847, the roads here became what a visitor to Connaught called "chamel-housis." Car and coach drivers told him they rarely drove anywhere without seeing dead bodies strewn along the roadside, and in the dark they had even driven over them. A gentleman told the visitor that in the neighbourhood of this town, one inspector of roads had caused no fewer than 140 bodies to be buried, which he found scattered along the highway. The labourers of Connaught could not get employment, though they would cheerfully work for 6 pence a day or less. Many told him they would gladly work for their daily food. The visitor heard of cases where one quart of meal was all an able-bodied man received for a day's work. He wrote that people were daily added to the class of turnip eaters, the scanty supply of potatoes or oats rapidly diminishing. He looked forward to the coming winter as even more fearful and more fatal than the past. In some cases, where all other members of a family had perished, the last survivor earthed up the door of his cabin to keep out pigs and dogs, and then laid himself down to die.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from A Visit to Connaught in the Autumn of 1847: A Letter Addressed to the ... (1848), James Hack Tuke , Society of Friends Dublin Monthly Meeting . Central Relief Committee, Central Relief Committee of the Society of Friends (Dublin, Ireland), Internet Archive avisittoconnaug00irelgoog, Chapter 1 · source

Built about 1830, this was a jail designed for the Commissioners of Prisons. It had a guard block and a later cell block, both standing within a battered rubble limestone wall. The guard block carried roughcast rendered walls with a limestone string course, and square-headed openings fitted with cast-iron bars throughout. The cell block windows were smaller. A limestone staircase led through the interior. It is a rare surviving nineteenth-century bridewell, and its form and planning tell something about the judicial system of that time.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 30325026 · source

Clifden, in Galway, is a town that began with one man's plan. As late as 1815, there was only a single house on this site. Its origin is due to Mr. D'Arcy, who first pointed out the advantageous position, and offered "leases for ever, together with four acres of mountain land, at but a short distance from the projected town, at twenty shillings per annum." That was the offer that drew settlers. The town sits on a ridge at the head of the Bay of Ardbear, near the Atlantic coast. The Owenglen river makes a picturesque cascade close by. A fine view may be had from the neighbouring hills. The town is now overshadowed by two buildings out of all proportion to the population: a huge workhouse, and a Roman Catholic cathedral with a handsome spire.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 31 · source

Coming up now is Clifden, the town in Galway. After the rising of 1798, men who kept the disaffected cause alive made Connemara their gathering ground. About a hundred of them still held their military organisation, and were often seen in the middle of the day exercising on Rosshill. Their captain was one Prendergast, who had been prior of a monastery near Westport, and by all accounts became a desperate man. At first the band drew their food from the surrounding country, especially County Mayo, where Prendergast sent out plundering expeditions. When that resource began to fail, they resolved to levy blackmail even on their friends in Connemara. But the country was saved from spoliation by companies of Highlanders the Government sent down to the district. At the sight of them the insurgents fled. Prendergast concealed himself near Clifden until the proclamation of the amnesty, availed himself of its terms, and obtained a full pardon.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 39 · source

Somewhere close to Ardbear, at the head of two bays, lay well-known oyster beds belonging to Mr. Corless of Dublin. The beds sat at Ardbear and Mannin, south of Clifden, and Clifden Castle, formerly belonging to the D'Arcys, stood about 2 miles up the bay. The D'Arcys had done much to improve this part of Connemara, but became so reduced by their own liberality that they were compelled to sell their property. The castle is in a ruinous state, standing in a fine situation with mountain and wood rising behind and a sloping lawn reaching down to the land-locked bay.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 31 · source

Ardagh in Ballynahinch barony, in Galway, is where this megalithic tomb stands, on the west side of a glacial ridge close to the inner reaches of Ardbear Bay. It consists of a small chamber set in an oblong mound, 10 metres by 7 metres, aligned north-west to south-east. A single large roofstone covers the chamber, which is open to the north-west and narrows towards the rear. The chamber and the ground immediately north-west have been dug out. It cannot be classified with certainty, but a wedge tomb would fit the evidence.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA035-001---- · source

St Caíllín's holy well at Derrigimlagh is an "unfinished" well, marked only by a wet hollow among stones on the east face of a scarp on Daily Hill. Local tradition says the saint, having left Errislannan, stopped. On hearing St Flannan's bell, he realised he had not gone far enough and moved on toward Slyne Head, where his real well is to be found.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA049-020---- · source

This is the former constabulary barracks at Ballyconneely, built about 1820. It stands vacant now. A detached three-bay two-storey building with a flat-roofed porch on its front, west, elevation, a single-storey lean-to block and a courtyard to the rear. The walls are painted lined-and-ruled render, with exposed rubble granite and dressed quoins at the rear first floor. The pitched slate roof carries rendered chimneystacks and cast-iron rainwater goods. The windows are timber sliding sash, six-over-six and three-over-three pane, with dressed limestone block-and-start surrounds and stone sills. The front windows are boarded now. A segmental-headed archway with dressed granite voussoirs opens into the courtyard, where rubble stone outbuildings stand with brick surrounds to their openings. A rubble stone boundary wall fronts the road, with a wrought-iron garden gate set between dressed stone piers with caps. The record calls this typical of the solid structures built by the authorities in more turbulent times before the Irish Republic. Despite its ruinous condition, the fine stonework remains, and the building stands as a landmark in the local landscape.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 30404902 · source

Callow, in Ballynahinch barony, is a burial site on the shoreline. In March 2014, after a series of winter storms, a section of the shoreline slumped and revealed human remains that had never been recorded before. An almost vertical west-facing sand face stood above a rocky beach, its base abutted by a sloping spread of collapsed sand and grass-sod. Two deposits of bone were visible in the sand face. The main deposit was 0.8 metres below ground surface: a possible shoulder bone projecting about 8 centimetres from the face. There was no obvious grave cut, but a narrow lens of dark clayey sand extended north from just under the bone, traceable for 0.66 metres. A second, smaller deposit, possibly a rib bone, lay 1.55 metres to the north at a shallower depth of 0.55 metres. The relationship between the two was uncertain. Excavations in May and June 2014 showed the bones were those of a child and an adult. The adult burial was later than the child's.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA049-030---- · source

This children's burial ground in Iorras Beag Thiar lies east of Gorteen graveyard. The site is now occupied by a garage, with no visible trace surviving. A local man explained that flowing water should always separate a children's burial ground from a proper graveyard, which is why this one was divided from the graveyard by a small stream.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA063-022---- · source

Roundstone is a town the road passes through, and in 1840 it held a scene that told a great deal about the people of Connemara. A court sat in the village, and it was packed. Not long before, the boast in these parts was that the king's writ did not run in Connemara. British law had no force here whatever. But by the time of this court, the people had gone to the opposite extreme. They invoked the law on every occasion. What had once been settled with a stone or a cudgel now worked itself out through the entanglements of the courtroom. The court was crowded, and not everyone there had business. Many came simply to learn law for future use. The energy of the litigants was striking. Sometimes after the magistrates had decided a case, the parties went out to the street and argued the whole thing over again with great clamour. What made this more remarkable was how small the stakes could be. One plaintiff, asked by the court to state the damages he was claiming, put the figure at sixpence. Then there was a quarrelsome fellow convicted of assault. The magistrate fined him half-a-crown. He paid it. Then he raised his fist, right there in front of the magistrate, and struck the plaintiff another blow. He was fined the same sum again. He paid that too. Then he rushed to the door and shouted to the crowd outside, "Oh! boys, don't spare one another; fight away as much as ye plaze — 't will be only half-a-crown a-piece to yees."

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 21 · source

Up ahead you come to Roundstone in Galway. In 1841 a preacher posted placards here announcing an Irish-language sermon for the following Sabbath. He never found out how many Roman Catholics might have come if left to themselves, because they were not left to themselves. A counter-notice appeared on the walls threatening death to any Roman Catholic who attended. He was told this afterwards. So he preached that day to an audience exclusively Protestant. He said Roundstone was the place where he least expected hostility, yet it showed the greatest. He noted that this is no unfrequent occurrence in missionary life. He relates another example of intolerance at the same place. A horse belonging to the Episcopalian minister fell into a marsh and was in danger of drowning. The peasantry are generally prompt to help in such cases, but this was an exception. One man, when asked to aid, bluntly refused, saying of the animal, "The Wicked One is on him." The others proceeded with their efforts without him, and not unsuccessfully. The owner pulled out his purse and handsomely rewarded them. The sight of the money sorely mortified the man who had refused. He made a humiliating confession: "Ah, on myself was the Evil One."

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 100 · source

As you come through Roundstone in Galway, this is a story from one of the villages nearby. One summer evening, the author was quietly addressing a few people when a devotee, a confraternity man as the order is called, suddenly appeared and at once launched into controversy. The man was no fair representative of a Romish controversialist. Nearly all the argument he could muster in defence of his Church was its antiquity. It was the oldest, therefore the best. That was the sum total. In reply, the author told him that the mere fact of a religion being old was no proof of its truth, and if it were, the Chinese religion had the advantage over his Church. The author said to him, you claim for your Church only eighteen hundred years, but they claim for theirs five or six thousand. Therefore if yours be good, theirs is three times better, because three times older. This way of putting the question amused the listeners who had eagerly gathered round. Though all Roman Catholics, they laughed at the argument, and seeing that, the man gave up the discussion. The author later noted that if Romanism meant its present state, it is no older than 1854, when the system culminated.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 37 · source

Noted by O'Flaherty in 1684 as a "place in memory of St Brendan," the holy well on Inis Ní stands just above the high water mark on the island's north shore. Though the maps dedicate the site to St Brendan, people on the island associate it with St Columcille and visit it on his day. The well is a small, smooth, rounded pothole about 0.3 metres across, set in a flat rock outcrop. A semicircular drystone cairn, 1.2 metres across and 1.2 metres high, has been built around its south side. About 1 metre south-east stands what the maps call the Monument: another cairn, D-shaped, 1.2 metres across and 1.45 metres high. Coins and the remains of flowers are visible among the stones of both cairns. Some 50 metres west, below the high water mark, lies another pothole known locally as St Brendan's Well, with an irregular cairn above it.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA050-010004- · source

As you travel through Connemara, you are on roads that changed this district in ways not everyone welcomed. Alexander Nimmo engineered these roads some years before the 1840s, overcoming serious difficulties, and the historian Hardiman called him the greatest benefactor Connemara has ever had. But some of the natives openly denounced the roads as a curse. Their saying was, "There is no luck in the country since they began to make the roads, and to build the big slated houses." The reason was substantial. While Connemara stayed inaccessible, it was the emporium of a smuggling trade with America and the West Indies, a mine of gold for many inhabitants. A whole district would club together to buy and freight vessels, each contributor profiting in proportion to his investment, sharing the risk of capture and the dangers of the sea. Capture was rare, as the Government kept no strict watch on the numerous bays of the west coast. The district filled with contraband goods, sugar, rum, brandy, tobacco, and wine, sold by stealth to shopkeepers in neighbouring towns. Enough surplus remained in Connemara to reduce prices there to a minimum, and this sterile country abounded in the luxuries of life. An old man said in Irish that there was not at that time so plentiful a country for a poor man in all the nine regions.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 20 · source

You are coming through Connemara, in Galway, where the Joyce clan once got through life between good fare and good fellowship. The author of this passage says they sought not the comforts which alone endure. When famine came, they had no Covenant-God to fly to for help. In the second year of the blight, one man found it reappearing in his potato field. He went home and hanged himself. The author writes that death came, and there was no Gospel to extract its sting. He says a melancholy wail arose from these wild glens, an Irish dirge that one of the Joyces composed upon himself at that solemn hour, describing and lamenting his misery. The poem begins with the words S domhan m'osnaigh, and is called the Will of Joyce. But who he was, or when he lived, the author says he does not know.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Sketches of the Irish Highlands : description, social and religious, with special reference to Irish mission in West Connaught since 1840 (1863), M'Manus, Henry, Internet Archive sketchesofirishh00mmanuoft, Chapter 95 · source

Doire Fhada Thiar is a burial site on the inner reaches of Cloonisle Bay. Two set boulders, 2.8 metres apart, mark the place called Corr na mBráithre. It is said to be the grave of a priest who swam across from Toombeola Friary on the opposite shore of the bay. He was caught and killed when soldiers attacked the friary.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA050-008---- · source

Cloonisle is a burial site in Galway, on the inner reaches of Cloonisle Bay. It holds three or four rectangular graves aligned north to south, each marked by head and foot stones. The information comes from Tim Robinson.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA051-008---- · source

This is a children's burial ground in Doire Iorrais, Galway. Known locally as An Chill Bheag or Reilig na bPáistí, it sits on a north-facing hillslope under alders, about 50 metres south of a stream marking the townland boundary. A roughly rectangular area, bounded by field walls south and west, by a scarp north, unenclosed elsewhere. Numerous small set stones mark graves oriented east to west, concentrated at the south-west. One small wooden cross was also present.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA065-012---- · source

This is a holy well in Doire An Fhéich, standing in a quarry. Known locally as Tobar Naomh Phádraig, it is a natural spring that was interfered with by blasting. The man who did the blasting fell and broke his leg on the same day, two years running. T. Robinson gave the account.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA078-008---- · source

Doire An Fhéich is a children's burial ground in Galway. A small unenclosed plot holds many small set stones. The bridge called Droichead an Chroisín stands on the western boundary of the townland.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA078-009---- · source

This is a holy well at Cladhnach, known locally as Tobar Mhuire. It sits close to the east gable of a modern house at Crompán. The well is a smooth natural pothole, 0.2 metres across, in a rock outcrop, with a round flat stone for a lid. Saint's footprints are pointed out in the rock beside it, and at the front of the house.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA078-006---- · source

As you pass through Carrowroe, this was a place an old man once called healthy, with clean air blowing. He told a visitor that round about, in nearby districts, you would hear of a score and more people stretched out waiting for their death from typhus fever. There was also a sickness called consumption that some died of. He accepted it as the will of God, and said that in every place people are getting their death one way or another. But his own place, he said, was enjoying good health. Then he gave a few blessings, got up, and left.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from In Wicklow, West Kerry and Connemara (1911), Synge, J. M. (John Millington), 1871-1909, Internet Archive inwicklowwestker00syngrich, Chapter 1 · source

As you pass through Carrowroe in Galway, this is the country an old man once described when he recalled the old trade of illicit poteen-making. He said it was a great trade at that time. The police would be down on their knees blowing the fire with their own breath to make a drink for themselves, and then go off with the butt of an old barrel, and that was one seizure, and an old bag with a handful of malt, and that was another seizure, and would satisfy the law. A man would get ten shillings for a gallon, and it was a good trade for poor people. But now, he said, they must have the worm and the still and a prisoner, and there is little of it made in the country.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from In Wicklow, West Kerry and Connemara (1911), Synge, J. M. (John Millington), 1871-1909, Internet Archive inwicklowwestker00syngrich, Chapter 1 · source

Around Carrowroe in Galway, an old man told the writer Synge about the people in the scattered cottages here. He said most were in want at one time or another, when potatoes failed and their store was eaten. Some were near starving at all times. He spoke of a widow woman nearby with seven children who had hardly a shirt on their skins. They had nothing to eat but milk from one cow and a handful of meal given by one neighbour or another. When Synge asked him if the place had been as bad in his youth, the old man did not give a simple answer, but the question itself shows the want was deep and long-standing in this district.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from In Wicklow, West Kerry and Connemara (1911), Synge, J. M. (John Millington), 1871-1909, Internet Archive inwicklowwestker00syngrich, Chapter 1 · source

Up ahead the road takes you through Spiddal in Galway. An old woman was begging here once, and when the traveller spoke to her in Irish, she turned back and poured out her thanks with extraordinary profusion. "That the blessing of God may be on you," she said, "on road and on ridgeway, on sea and on land, on flood and on mountain, in all the kingdoms of the world" — and so on, until he was too far off to hear what she was saying. Spiddal showed curious gradations of type, especially on Sundays and holidays, when everyone dressed as their fancy led them and as well as they could manage. Watching people come from Mass, the order was plain. Police and coastguards came first in their smartest uniforms, then shopkeepers dressed like the people of Dublin but a little more grotesquely, then the well-to-do country folk in the best and newest local clothes, looking well-fed and healthy, a few of the girls magnificently built. Last of all came the destitute.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from In Wicklow, West Kerry and Connemara (1911), Synge, J. M. (John Millington), 1871-1909, Internet Archive inwicklowwestker00syngrich, Chapter 1 · source

As you pass through Spiddle in Galway, you're near the quay where J.M. Synge once watched a small ritual of poverty. An old man was down by the harbour when a young man came down from a field of black earth where he'd been digging a drain, and asked him in Gaelic for a spark for his pipe. The old man disappeared for a moment, then came back with a smouldering end of a turf sod and threw it up onto the pier. The young man caught it with a quick downward grab, blew it into a blaze, lit his pipe, and went back to his work. These people were so poor that many of them did not spend any money on matches. The spark of lighting turf was kept alive day and night on the hearth, and when a man went out fishing or to work in the fields he usually carried a lighted sod with him, buried in ashes or dry rubbish so he could use it when he needed it. On the way back to the village an old woman begged from them, speaking in English, as most people did to anyone who was not a native, and Synge said a blessing to her in return.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from In Wicklow, West Kerry and Connemara (1911), Synge, J. M. (John Millington), 1871-1909, Internet Archive inwicklowwestker00syngrich, Chapter 1 · source

Built about 1860, in the graveyard of Séipéal Mhuire Réalt na Mara at Na Forbacha in Galway, a detached gable-fronted mausoleum stands as the last resting place of the local Blake family. It has 2-bay side walls and a canted bay to the rear. The roof is pitched and half-hipped, made of large limestone slabs with cut limestone coping to the front and a cast-iron cross finial. The walls are coursed rubble sandstone with dressed limestone quoins and a base batter. Lancet openings have dressed limestone surrounds and chamfered sill stones, and the pointed arch door opening has a chamfered dressed limestone surround. The mausoleum is well maintained. Its limestone slab roof is increasingly rare, and the quality stonework contrasts with the smooth rendered elevations of the church.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Inventory of Architectural Heritage (CC-BY 4.0), NIAH 30409303 · source

This is a holy well, Tobar Éinne, in Bearna. It is a natural spring in a rock fissure at the east end of a small modern rectangular enclosure. A small stone cairn stands some 1.5 metres to the south-south-west, surmounted by a modern cross.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA093-003001- · source

This is a castle site at Bearna, on the west bank of Barna Stream where it flows into White Strand Bay. It was standing in 1574, when Owen Ohalorane held it. People knew it as Sean Chaislean Bheárna. By the early 1800s it had been completely demolished, and no visible trace survives.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA093-002---- · source

Shown on the first edition of the OS 6-inch map as a small rectangular building, this children's burial ground, Cill na bPáistí, lies in the townland of Pollnarooma West. Today nothing remains but a subrectangular area, 17 metres by 10 metres, with a number of boulders visible inside it.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from National Monuments Service, Sites and Monuments Record (CC-BY 4.0), GA094-042---- · source

Dated May 9, 1830, at Rockhill, a notice signed by Captain Rock warned that any person leaving one penny or the smallest dealing with a named party in Sligo town would be visited. His words: "I will pay him a visit, not without company, and I will have blood spilt." It was a campaign of intimidation enforcing exclusive dealing.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from History of Sligo, county and town, from the close of the Revolution of 1688 to the present time (1892), Wood-Martin, W. G. (William Gregory), 1847-1917, Internet Archive historyofsligoco00wood, Chapter 162 · source

You're coming through Salthill, the sea-bathing resort about a mile and a half west of Galway. It was much frequented in summer for its bathing, with an extensive suite of public baths attached to a small hotel and a made esplanade of some two miles along the shore. It was connected to Galway by tram-car, and the road continues along the coast toward Spiddle and Costelloe.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Guide to Galway, Connemara and the West of Ireland (1912), Lang, Robert Turnbull, 1870-, Internet Archive guidetogalwaycon00lang, Chapter 25 · source

Somewhere around here is the Galway Famine Ship Memorial, in Celia Griffin Memorial Park in Salthill. It was unveiled on 4 July 2012 and builds on an older limestone monument to Celia Griffin, a girl who died at age 6 on the streets of Galway during the Great Famine. Two sandstone monuments carved as ships' sails flank that original stone, each engraved with the names of 50 ships that carried people escaping the famine. Those ships were often poorly maintained and disease spread fast aboard them, causing many deaths on the voyages.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (CC BY-SA 4.0), en.wikipedia.org: Galway Famine Ship Memorial · source

This is Dead-man's Lane on Lombard Street in Galway, where James Lynch Fitz-Stephen, mayor in 1493, is said to have hanged his own son from a window. Lynch had built the choir of Saint Nicholas's Church at the west end and put painted glass in the windows. According to one version of the story, his son, in a fit of jealousy, murdered a rival in love. The father tried him and condemned him. The whole of the townsfolk interceded for his son. But Lynch, lest he should be moved, carried out the sentence himself. A skull and crossbones and an inscription mark the place.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from Black's guide to Galway, Connemara, and the west of Ireland (1912), Adam and Charles Black (Firm), Internet Archive blacksguidetogal00adam · source

An Augustinian nunnery once stood on Middle Street in Galway, on the ground later occupied by the Mechanics' Institute. A map of Galway dated 1651 marks clearly where the convent stood, in Sraid eddir da bogher, the old Irish name for Middle Street. That map is the evidence: the nuns were there before 1651, and there cannot be even a shadow of doubt about it. When Cromwell came in 1652, the Augustinian nuns were driven from their convent, along with all the other religious in Galway, men and women alike. For nearly a century they endured persecution. But in defiance of every edict promulgated against them, they continued to dwell in the town, and whenever the heat of persecution subsided, they reassembled and returned to their former dwelling. About the year 1725, a more peaceable state of things prevailed. Priests and nuns came forth from their hiding places, threw off their disguise, and again took possession of their former dwellings where those dwellings still stood. The daughters of Augustine did not return to the original convent site. Instead, they obtained a much more commodious house lower down in the street, opposite the present Court Theatre, which they turned into a handsome convent and occupied until near the middle of the last century. The Mayor reported on this convent in 1731.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from The Gailliv. : an illustrated history of the ancient city of Galway (1901), Travers, D., ed, Internet Archive gaillivillustrat00trav, Chapter 17 · source

Somewhere about Rahoon lies an estate with a remarkable story behind it. A young Galway man named Joyes was captured by an Algerine corsair on his passage to the West Indies and spent 14 years as a slave in Algiers. His owner, a wealthy Turk who worked as a goldsmith, saw that Joyes was tractable and ingenious, and taught him the trade. When William III came to the throne, he sent an ambassador to Algiers demanding the release of all British subjects held in slavery, and the dey reluctantly complied. Joyes's master then offered him his only daughter in marriage and half his property if he would stay, but Joyes resolutely declined. He returned to Galway, married, followed the goldsmith's trade with considerable success, and having acquired what the record calls a handsome independence, he purchased the estate of Rahoon from Colonel Whaley, one of Cromwell's officers.

Told by the narrator (z-ai/glm-5.2) from The history of the town and county of the town of Galway, from the earliest period to the present time (vol. n/a) (1926), Hardiman, James, Internet Archive historyoftowncouhard, Chapter 21 · source