Author : Asenath Nicholson
Release : 2013-09
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Kind : eBook
Book Rating : 735/5 ( reviews)

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Book Synopsis Annals of the Famine in Ireland, in 1847, 1848, And 1849 by : Asenath Nicholson

Download or read book Annals of the Famine in Ireland, in 1847, 1848, And 1849 written by Asenath Nicholson. This book was released on 2013-09. Available in PDF, EPUB and Kindle. Book excerpt: This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1851 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER VII. "Earth, of man the bounteous mother, Feeds him still with corn and vine: He who best would aid a brother, Shares with him these gifts divine." Newport and its vicinity presented a variety of exciting scenes: here in this pretty town, families of tolerable comfort declined step by step, till many who would have outlived the common changes of life could not maintain their standing in this hour of trial. A former rector, by the name of Wilson, died in the summer of 1847, leaving a widow and four children on a pretty spot, where they had resided for years, and gathered the comforts of life about them. Here I was invited to spend a few weeks, and would with gratitude record the many favors shown me there; and with deep sorrow would add, that I saw step by step all taken for taxes and rent; everything that had life out of doors that could be sold at auction, was sold; then everything of furniture, till beds and tables left the little cottage, and the mother was put in jail, and is now looking through its grates, while her children are struggling for bread. Sir Richard O'Donnell is the landlord in possession of most of the land there, and his "driver," like others akin to him, does strange things to the tenants, quite unknown to the landlord, who has been called humane. But this fearless "driver " "throws, or causes to be thrown down, cabin after cabin, and sometimes whole villages, of which it is said the landlord was entirely ignorant, but the pitiless storm heeded not that, and the poor starved exiles pleading that the cabin might be left a little longer, have no pity, their pot and even the cloak, which is the peasant woman's all by night and by day, has often been torn from her emaciated limbs, and sold at auction. Perhaps in...