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Updated: June 20, 2025
It was a Clare man that burned Connacht so bare; he was worse than Cromwell, and he made a great slaughter in the house of God at Clonmel. The people have it against his family yet, and against the whole County of Clare." "Cromwell was very bad, but the drink is worse. For a good many that Cromwell killed should go to heaven, but those that are drunken never see heaven.
He too was watching. One side of the window blind of the Connacht Eagle office was pulled aside. Thaddeus Gallagher was without doubt peering at the motor-car through a corner of the window. Three small boys were lurking among the packing cases which stood outside a shop further down the street. Doyle felt justified in repeating his statement that many of the inhabitants of Ballymoy were alive.
But who knows but another race might be worse, such as the Spaniards that were scattered along the whole coast of Connacht at the time of the Armada. And the laws are good enough. I heard it said the English will be dug out of their graves one day for the sake of their law. As to Dervorgilla, she was not brought away by force, she went to MacMurrough herself.
The words of her poem, long since, he supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: 'O, desolate mother, O, Erin, When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities? Had it come at last, this revival of the nation's vitality? Had it come just too late for him to share it?
I seem to know the name. A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features. To be sure, he said, remembering brightly. The chap that writes like Synge. Mr Best turned to him. Haines missed you, he said. Did you meet him? He'll see you after at the D. B. C. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht. I came through the museum, Buck Mulligan said. Was he here?
True daughter of Ulster was Owen's wife, so let us henceforth acknowledge her as the Roisin dubh, "dark Rosaleen", of the sublimest of all patriot songs. In the Cromwellian and Williamite wars, we see the mournful mothers and daughters of the Gaeldom passing in sad procession to Connacht, or wailing on Shannon banks for the flight of the "Wild Geese."
"I was afraid, maybe, the meeting might be over when I saw Doyle and Thady Gallagher going into the office of the Connacht Eagle after leaving Kerrigan's shop." "You're time enough," said the Major. "If you're not more than half-an-hour late it's time enough for any meeting that's held in this town." "That's true too," said Father McCormack. "As a general rule that's true enough.
An Irish element came into the colony in the last decade of the eighteenth century when, during the Orange reign of terror, upwards of a thousand people from the west of Ireland were deported by the Ulster magistrates and by Lord Carhampton, the notorious "Satanides", who was charged with the pacification of Connacht.
My father was a bricklayer, and my mother sold apples and oranges and other fruits, according to the season, and also whiskey, which she made herself, as she well knew how; for my mother was not only a Connacht woman, but an out-and-out Connamara quean, and when only thirteen had wrought with the lads who used to make the raal cratur on the islands between Ochterard and Bally na hinch.
The civil life of the nation, too, shows signs of singular promise at the same time, a promise embodied in the person of the king of Connacht, Ruaidri Ua Concobar, some of whose deeds we have recorded.
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