The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1849-01-30 00:00:00

resent

beef, and a quantity of turnips, as a Christmas box, in
addition to their weekly wages. Such conduct cannot be
too generally known or too highly. commended.—Free-

Jour;zal.

THE DOWNSHIRE HEROINES.—An action more gallant
than that performed by the two noble and courageous
daughters of the Down farmer, it seldom falls to the lot
of heroism to perform. Their conduct is beyond eulogy.
It puts to shame the inertness (to use no stronger word)
which has suffered the ruffian rick-burners to carry fire
and destruction throug so many a fait harvest gathering.
We will not anticipate the Lord Lieutenant. Of course
he will mark his admiration of the bravery of these girls,
and mark it, we hope, munificently. But the farmers of
Down have a duty. There ought to be a subscription—a
subscription that will include the name of every man who
owns an acre in that Protestant county; and there should
with the subscription be a testimonial that will commemo-
rate a defence as remarkable as any that does honour to
their annals. And if there be among them two men of
weal and worth in want of wives—we need not tell them
where to look for them.

POPERY IN THE 19TH CENTURY.—There has been a
grand ecclesiastical pageant at Tuam: On Tuesday the
provincial synod of prelates and dignitaries of the arch-
bishopric walked in procession from the archiepiscopal
palace to the cathedral, where mass was solemnised. The
following glowing account of the ceremony is from the
Freeman's Journal: —"As the procession descended the
steps of the archiepiscopal residence, and proceeded
through the dense masses of the people along the laurelled
path strewn for it, the scene was in the highest degree
magnificent, and imposing in its solemn grandeur—the
voice of the prelates and the clergy raised in the glorious
chaunt of the litany of the saints—the blaze of the jewel-
led mitres and copes of cloth of gold, worn by the vener-
ated shepherds of the church, the clouds of fragrant in-
cense through which gleamed the golden cross borne on
high, in front tie long stream of white-robed clergy, all
moving through the dense masses of the people, whilst on
all the bright morning sun shone with a brightness like
that of a young spring day—all formed a scene that
seemed to fill every heart in that dense multitude with
feelings too deep for words. As the procession passed the
outward gates, another scene, scarcely less imposing, pre-
sented itself. The cathedral, in all the magnificent sym-
metry of its proportions, and the true ecclesiastical tone
of its gothic turrets and arched windows, presented its
glorious front to the morning sun, reflected by the thou-
sand apices of its gothic tracery, while through the widely
opened valves of its front entrance was seen within the
high altar, with its blazoned window of many hues, its
golden candelabra blazing with red light, its gorgeous
anti-pendium and glittering tabernacle, shining afar
through the long vista of white-robed priests and attend-
ants, whilst on either hand rose noble buildings devoted
to religion : the College of St. Jarlath's, and the convents
of the Sisters of Mercy and the Sisters of Charity. The
vast crowd having assembled within the church, the high
mass was chaunted. The imposing scene was presented
to the faithful present of the preparatory invocation by the
prelates and dignitaries about to meet in synod, of the
blessing of the Most High on their intended deliberations."
This reads like a page out of the ecclesiastical history of
the middle ages.

A WEALTHY PAUPER.—Some five-and-twenty years
ago (says the Cork Constitution) an old lady died in the
barony of Kinnalea, who was supposed to have been
wealthy, but no money or valuable documents were found
by her relatives. It was known at the time that a labour-
ing man on the farm, Jeremiah Riordan, had been in her
confidence, and the roof of her house being broken through
on the night of her death, and it being evident that her
boxes had been sifted, suspicion attached to Riordan, but
no evidence could be adduced against him, and the cir-
cumstance was forgotten. Subsequently Riordan mar-
ried, and became tenant to a plot of five acres of ground
and a mud cabin, in which he appeared in apparent
wretchedness ; so much so that the gentry in his neigh-
bourhood occasionally employed him to come to Cork for
messages, and he brought back small loads of marketing
on a donkey. About twelve months since his wife died,
and shortly after he proposed to marry a young woman,
servant to the gentleman on whose property he re-
sided. She scouted his offer, saying that an old pauper
(he being 60 years of age), with a large family, had
much impudence to ask her to be his wife. For some
months he pressed his suit, and to induce her to become
his partner sent six of his children to America, keeping
but one at home, a boy about 14 years of age. He then
offered to settle £lO on her, which was refused, and each
day he increased liis offer, until she consented to
marry him if £6O was lodged in the savings bank to her
account. The money was lodged, and Riordan and his
affianced went to the coadjutor to get the nuptial knot tied.
Here a new difficulty arose; £lO was demanded as she
marriage fee. This Riordan protested he did not possess,
and tendered £1 as being all the money he could command.
The priest refused, and the parties retired to their respec-
tive homes. Riordan called on the priest the following
day, and said he had sold some of his furniture, and had
now £2. This was also refused ; but the priest said he
would accept £5. After a long colloquy, Riordan left
him, but shortly after returned, offering to swear that
he had sold all he was owner of, including the donkey,
and that he could only increase his funds to £4. After
much declamation on the one side and protestation on the
other—the purchase money for the wife never having been
hinted—the bargain was mane, and Riordan was for a
second time married about a month. After the cere-
mony, Riordan and his spouse retired to the mud cabin ;
but the following morning she quarrelled with the bride-
groom, who required to get back the savings' bank book
he had given her ; a fight ensued between them, and she
quitted the house, leaving him bleeding at the nose and
mouth, with a pair of swollen eyes. He lay for three days
moaning on Isis bed of straw, and when he rose he
wandered through the country, crying " Norah !
Norah !" but she did not return. About a fortnight since
he remained out all night, and returning in the morning
fell faint upon the ground, after two or three times ad-
dressing his son, the only inmate of the cabin, with the
words, " Shawn, 'tis in the thatch," expired. The boy
immediately ran out and called in a neighbour, saying his
father was dead, who asked, " Did the poor man say any-
thing before he died ?" She was told his last words. She