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Updated: July 6, 2025
Dressed in a snuff-coloured suit, with knee-breeches and shining shoe buckles, he appeared walking down the little street of Portadown leaning heavily upon a blackthorn stick and murmuring sadly, "Nobody cares for me, nobody takes any notice of me." Nobody, indeed?
I have italicised a few words which clear the association from the charge of organised intolerance, which is made alike by English and Irish Home Rulers. The Portadown folks are especially well-versed in the history of the movement, and in the perils which impelled their forefathers to band themselves together.
And if the premonitory symptoms be thus severe, how shall we doctor the disease itself? The other day I stumbled on Mr. Lynn, of Dublin, whom I first met at the Queen's Hotel, Portadown, County Armagh. He said, "We ought to know what the Home Rule Bill will do.
During the following nine days demonstrations were held at Lisburn, Derry, Coleraine, Ballymena, Dromore, Portadown, Crumlin, Newtownards, and Ballyroney, culminating with a meeting in the Ulster Hall loyalist headquarters on the eve of the signing of the Covenant on Ulster Day.
After this brief sketch of the origin of the movement it would not be surprising if the constitutions of the body inculcated intolerance, or even revenge. On the contrary, both these things are sternly prohibited, and their contraries expressly insisted on. A pious Brother of Portadown said: "As Protestants we endeavour to make the Bible our rule and guide.
The artisans of Portadown go to work every day, and the farmers do their level best with the land, which all about this region is highly cultivated.
When first I visited the town, placards announcing drill meetings at the Orange Hall were everywhere stuck up, but I saw none during my last march round. Perhaps the Orangemen have completed their arrangements. The Portadown people have no intention of accepting Home Rule. On the contrary they are determined to have none of it.
"No more noses or eyes than you." Alas! this home life, delightful though it was, could not last very long. On August 22nd, 1866, he married that daughter of old Dr. Bredon of Portadown that his aunt had prophesied he would when, at the age of ten days, he lay upon her lap.
I have never heard that the Connaught Rangers had many recruits from the Shankhill Road, or the Dublin Fusiliers from Portadown; consequently the present situation disgusts rather than terrifies us.
Portadown, all we saw of it, just passing through, is a clean and thrifty little town. We would have liked to linger in Armagh a little while, but we must hurry down to the South. Got a glimpse of Armagh Catholic cathedral a very fine building, not so grand, however, as the Cathedral at Sligo. Took notice of a very fine memorial window, with the name of Archbishop Crolly on it.
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