Irish Types

1895

Three types at least are observable in the south of Ireland — first, the dark Italian looking Celt, also found in Devon; secondly, the tall, yellow haired Danish type, and, thirdly, the aboriginal Aryan of the Volga, with red or auburn hair and blue or green eyes, who may also be found in Cornwall.

The dark aquiline type of Wales differs considerably from that of the Irish, and the Irish language is nearer akin to Cornish than to Welsh. The traditional Irishman of caricatures is not often soon in the south, though this type is not unknown even among the upper classes.

The soft features and bright eyes of the modest peasant women present many varieties of beauty, and the mingled race of Cork and Kerry — fairer, as a rule, than that of the far west — is as vigorous as any in Scotland or in Yorkshire. — Blackwood's Magazine.


Trivia

In 1613 no gentleman, either in England, France or Germany, thought for a moment of going abroad without his cloak, even in hottest days of summer.

In the year 1400 English horses suitable for cavalry brought $10 apiece.

"Shooting the Moon"

1895

It is curious to remark how differently men of different races comport themselves in the presence of identical emergencies.

When an Irishman, for example, finds that he cannot pay his rent, he insists on remaining in his homestead all the same, and when an organized effort is made to turn him out he climbs up on to the roof of his domicile and throws hives of bees at the invaders.

When an Englishman finds himself in a similar predicament, he breaks the law by stealth — that is to say, he moves his furniture secretly, by midnight, to another lodging and leaves no address behind him.

And, as all the world knows, "shooting the moon" is the technical term for this nefarious performance. If one were asked by a stranger how the poor live in outcast London, one would have to answer that it is largely by "shooting the moon" that a great many of them are enabled to eke out a precarious subsistence. — London Graphic.


Fish We Have Learned to Eat

It is hard for the younger people to believe that so good a fish as the halibut was considered unfit for eating not very many years ago, yet many old fishermen yet live who remember when it was first offered in the market, selling then at 4 or 6 cents a pound. It was many years since that that the swordfish first found its way to the frying pan and the table, and a Rockland fisherman recalls the time when haddock were about as highly esteemed as sculpins are now. — Lewiston Journal.


Meaning of the Precious Stones

The meanings attached to the different precious stones are as follows: The garnet is constancy; the amethyst, sincerity; the bloodstone, courage; the sapphire, innocence; the emerald, success; the agate, long life; the carnelian, content; the pearl, tears; the diamond, purity; the opal, sorrow; the turquoise, happiness; the malachite, prosperity. — Ladies' Home Journal.

Thackeray's Verses on Dr. McCosh

1895

Most persons seem to have forgotten Thackeray's allusion in verse to Dr. McCosh. When the discussion over the doctor's appointment to the lordship of Queen's college, Belfast, was at its height, Thackeray wrote in his characteristic Irish brogue a poem purporting to be by the hand of Master Molloy Mollony, aged 15. The opening stanza runs thus:

As I think of the insult that's done to this nation
Hot tears of revinge from me fatures I wash,
And uphold in this pome to the world's daytistation
The sleeves that appointed Professor McCosh.

— New York Sun.

More Jokes

1916

The Short Course

When James A. Garfield was president of Oberlin college, a man brought for entrance as a student his son, for whom he wished a shorter course than the regular one.

"The boy can never take all that in," said the father. He wants to get through quicker. Can you arrange it for him?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Garfield. He can take a shorter course; it all depends on what you want to make of him. When God wants to make an Oak, He takes a hundred years, but He takes only two months to make a pumpkin."


Young Poultryman

The teacher had recited "The Landing of the Pilgrims." Then she requested each pupil to draw from his or her imagination a picture of Plymouth Rock.

Most of them went to work at once, but one little fellow hesitated, and at length raised his hand.

"Well, Willie, what is it?" asked the teacher.

"Please, ma'am, do you want us to draw a hen or a rooster?"


A Blunder

It was bathing time and from the bedroom of twin boys came the sound of hearty laughter and long crying. Their father went up to find the cause. "What's the matter up here?" he inquired.

The laughing twin pointed to his weeping brother. "Nothing," he giggled; "only nurse has given Alexander two baths and hasn't given me any at all."


Nothing Very Serious

Mrs. Casey — Och, Pat, whin the docther told yez ye had something wid a Latin name to it a yar-rd long, didn't it scare yez?
Casey — Faith, it did, Norah, darlint. But whin he only charged me a dollar, Oi knew it didn't amount to much.

Loud Kisser Charged In Court

1896

A young woman was brought before Judge Steers, of Flatbush, N.Y., on the charge of kissing her husband in public, and so loud as to constitute a breach of the peace. The Judge decided that a woman had a right to kiss her husband out loud, and wherever she chose, and put the complainant under a peace bond.


Trivia

Michigan papers are telling, with apparent sincerity, of a parsnip eight feet and two inches in length recently pulled at Union City, and a radish grown at Schoolcraft that measures twenty-three inches in circumference.

While hunting a few days ago Oat Darby, of Adams, Ind., lost the sight of his left eye by a peculiar accident. He fired at a rabbit, and one of the shot rebounded, and struck him in the eye, instantly destroying the sight.

A mouse nibbled through the insulated covering of an electrical light supply wire in a tomato factory in Salem, N. J., and a fire resulted which stewed 8000 gallons of skinned tomatoes. These were given away to the poor people of the town.

Elephants frequently live 120 years.

A lioness and two leopards escaped from a circus in Marion County, Ohio.

Mahlon A. Sellers, postmaster at Windsor Castle, Penn., has held his appointment fifty years.

The page of honor to Mary Tudor, John Jervis by name, was one of the tiniest dwarfs of his day.

Murphy has been given up as an Anglicized corruption of his name by an Irish clergymen, who has taken up again the true form, O'Morchoe.

Great Irishman To Visit United States

1908

Sir Anthony MacDonnell Coming To America

New York. — Sir Anthony Patrick McDonnell, permanent under secretary for Ireland, is on his way to the United States, but just what his mission to this country is, is known only to himself. It is safe to conjecture, however, that it is to explain to the Irish leaders on this side of the water why he has failed to get Ireland home rule and a land act that would turn the property of the land owners over to the peasantry. These were the aims he had in view when he entered his present position under Mr. Wyndham.

Not only was he a staunch Roman Catholic and home ruler, but an intense radical as well, and the conservatives writhed in horror at the idea of their leaders making MacDonnell virtual dictator of Ireland. For Mr. Wyndham was not a strong man, while Sir Anthony is strength personified. He had learned in India how to take the land from the big land holders and return it to the people. Before accepting the office he stated his views to Mr. Wyndham and insisted upon a written pledge that he should have a free hand. Immediately he set to work to make himself solid with the Irish people. He won the support of the clergy, he manipulated the police in a way that won him the affection of the people who regard the police as their natural enemies, and he traveled the whole length of Ireland to plead with rapacious landlords not to evict helpless tenants.

It was not long, however, before the tories of the old school raised a howl against the unlimited power given to Sir Anthony, and Mr. Wyndham had to drop out after the reading of the agreement in parliament. This made no difference to Sir Anthony, for he remained in his office under Mr. Long, who succeeded Wyndham, and was as much of a power as ever. The party papers denounced the under secretary and all his works, but the government still retained him. It found itself in the position of the man who had a bear by the tail — he couldn't hold on and he dare not let go.

When the Balfour government was defeated Sir Anthony remained as the adviser of the liberal government. Mr. Bryce became his chief and at the same time his tool. Mr. Bryce was no more successful than either of his predecessors, for the Sinn Fein movement, which sought to separate Ireland by strictly legal means, had grown up and was working at cross purposes with Sir Anthony. Prof. Bryce gave up and Mr. Birrell took his place. Sir Anthony advised the "devolution" bill, which the Irish people, investigated by the Sinn Fein, refused to accept. Nor were his land measures more popular, and Mr. Birrell came to the conclusion that Sir Anthony was the champion of a lost cause. It came to a test of will power between a dour Scotchman and an obstinate Irishman, and the former seems to have prevailed. Hence Sir Anthony's trip to America.

Sir Anthony entered the Indian civil service as a young man. He rose to the very highest position in the service, lieutenant governor of Bengal, and subsequently governor of the northwest provinces. He did much to reform the land tenure of Bengal. It was his dearest wish to do even more for his native land, and this is why, after retiring on a pension, he accepted the under secretaryship for Ireland.

Got Pluck? Or Are You Merely a Mouse?

1874

Pluck

The hopelessness of any one's accomplishing anything without pluck is illustrated by an old East India fable.

A mouse that dwelt near the abode of a great magician was kept in such constant distress by its fear of a cat, that the magician, taking pity on it, turned it into a cat itself. Immediately it began to suffer from its fear of a dog, so the magician turned it into a dog. Then it began to suffer from the fear of a tiger, and the magician turned it into a tiger. Then it began to suffer from fear of a huntsman, and the magician in disgust said, "Be a mouse again. As you have only the heart of a mouse, it is impossible to help you by giving you the body of a nobler animal." And the poor creature again became a mouse.

It is the same with mouse-hearted man. He may be clothed with the powers, and placed in the position of brave men, but he will always act like a mouse; the public opinion is usually the great magician that finally says to much a person, "Go back to your obscurity again. You have only the heart of a mouse, and it is useless to try to make a lion of you."



To say what should be said, to say only what should be said, and to say it only as it should be said is a rare gift.



An Irish clergyman, who was a hard laborer on his glebe, and when so occupied dressed in a very ragged manner, was recently engaged attending the early potato field, when he was surprised by the very rapid approach of his patron in an open carriage, with some ladies, whom he was to meet at dinner in the afternoon. Unable to escape in time, he drew his hat over his face, extending his arms covered with his tattered jacket, and passed himself off as a scarecrow.

An Odd Genius: Mortimer

1874

An Odd Genius

An Irishman died, a few weeks ago, in London, whose career and attainments entitle him to a niche in the annals of literature. The deceased was about fifty years of age, and was as odd a figure as one could meet in a day's ride. He was small, but firmly knit, generally wore a white hat and a dress coat, and always had an old volume under his arm. He was a confirmed book-worm. Mezzofanti was hardly a more accomplished linguist. Mortimer was a graduate of the University of Dublin, and deeply versed in classic lore, but he added a polish to his erudition by his intimacy with at least a dozen modern tongues. He spoke French, German, Russian, Polish, Spanish, Italian, Modern Greek, Turkish, Arabic, Irish, and Danish with fluency. In his youth he had been cabin-boy in an American bark, and subsequently became a medical student in Paris, but had to leave it on account of his connection with the June insurrection of '48.

He was a very strong man, and utilized his strength by taking an engagement as a Hercules in a circus in Australia. By turns he gave lectures on Shakespeare through Germany, was a Greek professor at Hamburg, had a troupe of Spanish ballet-dancers in Holland, and was a companion of Sir William Don, the baronet actor, in his wildest continental frolics. In his time he had been tutor to Charles Lever's children at Florence. He came to the surface one day in the employment of Tom Thumb; another in the company of Murphy the Irish giant, who was a distant cousin. He had been in London since the Franco-Prussian war, which ruined him in fortune. His learning was of little profit to him, for he died very poor in a ward of a hospital, and is buried in a nameless grave.

Mistakes Rooster's Call for His Wife

1920

Thinks Fowl's Crowing Is Her Call to Dinner -- Bing!

LOS ANGELES, Cal. -- Because Hoaglund of Venice is a bit hard of hearing he faced a judge for disturbing the peace -- and there was no roast chicken dinner in the Hoaglund home.

He was spading in the garden. The rooster crowed. Hoaglund dropped his tools and went home for lunch. Mrs. Hoaglund said she hadn't called him. Then she did call him -- many things.

Arraigned before Recorder W. W. Rennie, after the battle, he explained the matter and Mrs. Hoaglund was appeased.

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, March 27, 1920, page 9.


Irishman Couldn't Even Detect Green

CINCINNATI, Ohio -- An Irishman who can't tell green when he sees it was rejected for enlistment in the U. S. Marine Corps here for defective color vision.

James Patrick O'Hara, born in the County Cork, insisted on picking brown skeins of yarn when told to select the green ones.

"What color is grass," ventured the examiner, "isn't that green?"

"No," replied the color-blind Irishman, "its color is not green; people call it green because is young and tender, but its color is brown."

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, March 27, 1920, page 10.

THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER

By James A. Sidney

"Come here, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who King David was --
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"King David was a mighty man,
And he was King of Spain, sir;
His eldest daughter, Jessie, was
The 'flower of Dunblane,' sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Sir Isaac Newton -- who was he?
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Sir Isaac Newton was the boy
That climbed the apple-tree, sir;
He then fell down and broke his crown,
And lost his gravity, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who ould Marmion was --
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Ould Marmion was a soldier bold,
But he went all to pot, sir;
He was hanged upon the gallows tree,
For killing Sir Walter Scott, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who Sir Rob Roy was --
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Sir Rob Roy was a tailor to
The king of the Cannibal Islands;
He spoiled a pair of breeches, and
Was banished to the Highlands."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Then Bonaparte -- who was he?
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Old Bonaparte was King of France
Before the Revolution;
But he was kilt at Waterloo,
Which ruined his constitution."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell who King Jonah was --
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"King Jonah was the strangest man
That ever wore a crown, sir;
For though the whale did swallow him,
It couldn't keep him down, sir."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me who that Moses was --
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Shure Moses was the Christian name
Of good King Pharaoh's daughter;
She was a milkmaid, and she took
A profit from the water."

"You're right, my boy, hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, sir;
Jist tell me now where Dublin is,
Now tell me if you can, sir."
"Och, Dublin is a town in Cork,
And built on the equator:
It's close to Mount Vesuvius,
And watered by the 'crathur'."

This website has J.A. Sidey listed as the author of the poem instead of Sidney.