The Portland daily press., 1872-02-28
THE PR ESS.
WEDNESDAY MORNING, FEB. 90, 1879.
The Archbishop and Fortybags.
A TRUE STORY.

The old mendicant Fortybags, who -four
ished in Ireland about the beginning of the
present century, was certainly the most re-
markabe individual of the begging fraternity
| that ever roamed the green hills of that hos
| pitable land. He had his name from the
number of small bags he carried attached to
his leather girdle, in addition to the large
| two-bushel haversack with which eyery male
| exercising that honorable function carries,
slung over his shoulder, in his rounds from
| house to house. 1t was said, that Fortybags
| descended from genteel parents, got good
education in his youth, could read, write,
| figure up the most complicated sum, and with
the long spike of his five-foot cudgel, was able
| to demonstrate, on the sand of the road, any
theorem on the Six Books of Euclid. a..
But what rendered the mendicant still
more noted, he was reputed the best story
teller in all Ireland, for which reason he was
almost worshipped by the simple peasantry of
that wild land of legendary lore. Ia
| One cold day in the month of November,
old Fortybags met his Grace the Archbishop
| of Armagh, on the Market-hill road, about
two miles from his palace. His Grace was on
horseback, riding at his leisure, and followed
by servant in livery, at respectful dis
tance. In a jiffy the beggar was uncovered,
and in the most imploring attitude, thus ad-
dressed the prelate: aea
"Ah! may be your Grace would be after
| giving guinea to poor old beggar, of the
| Protestant Chureh--naked-mis and
nearly at deaths door with hunger and
WANT r..4. -...=- 51r..
| Cock you up with a guinea" replied the
man of God, looking at the singular efigy
with one eye closed.
| "Ah! Your Grace, pardon the mistake Pve
| made, twas not guinea at all l was minded
to ask, but shilling, to get soles for my old
brogues; see I'm nearly barefooted'' the
old man turned up his shoe to let the bishop
see the state of his walking gear. p.'-
go work for money, SIR" again replied
the bishop, without deigning to look at the
old shoe. t, : IN r
'Pm too old, my Lord, to work; besides, if
I were not, could get nothing to do" g'-.L
! you're not too old to break stones, pull
weeds, or sweep these roads, if laziness would
allow you," said his Grace, with counterfeit
| smile. "a s1 a1f 81 a 7aa q
"Will your lordship give me one penny, to
| buy loaf in the city. l assure your Grace,
l have not tasted a morsel since left my
wad of straw this morning, that's Gods truth
for aEa y1p.p n.s..r and .v.,.,.. ,,,,,.
among these cabins; you may get something
to eat have nothing for you"
"Oh! One half penny, my Lord, to get to-
baccy, the teeth are falling out of me for
| smoke" s-....., =. -t'us
"Begone, sir, or I'll get this man behind
me to chastise you for your insolence," re-
! piled the head Of the church, as he checked
l. f1,ar a - 3D. T..
On, my Lord, you will give me your bless
ing? I crave it for Gods sake; twill fit my
poor soul Tor the world to come"
| IS Yes; now, indeed, your coming to the es-
sential thing-the one thing needfill which
will not be taken from you in the hour of
mans greatest need May the Lord bless
you, dearly beloved brother, and give you
grace your cross to bear, till, Lazarus-like, he
| takes You to his eternal kingdom in glory"
prayed the saint of thirty thousand year,
but he was interrupted by the medicant, who
| cried out: .t't z' p
''Stop, my Lord Bishopl Keep your bless
| ing. 1t it were worth one halfpenny you
wouldn't give it, and the man of many bags
covered his bald head and walked on. hol1.
"Beggarman,' spoke his Grace, 'come
| back; here's guinea, and call with the war
dens of the Cathedral every Monday morning,
shall order you two shillings week while
you live. Take my blessing, too, and may
God bless YOU" NJ r, iti'@.
| In a little country church-yard, near the
city OF Armagh, about forty years ago, might
have been seen on rude tombstone the fol-
lowing epitaph:
| Beneath this stone lies Fortybags, ,;t
| 70 The beggar, Dan Mcbride;
| At t.hty-four he doffed his rags,
| Cav up the ghost and died.
| He Was most successful hand .ii.i 81
An Iri., tale to tell .-r rt.
| No beggarman, in any land,
Could skin fb SO well. .- l-fe
- Goldrick