Local Grievances and
Local Scenery
We forward the subjoined letter which has been handed to us by
“Lame Paddy,” our news boy. Hitherto, we did not give the writer credit for
such flippancy of thought, but he ensures us that the effusions are his own,
and though we differ broadly from him in his views as regards the duties of the
night watchman referred to, yet there are some locally important matters adverted
to which may render the letter worthy of a place :-
“To
the Editor of the Daily Reporter.
Church-Lane,
Listowel, 10th May 1865,
Dear Sir – In my meanderings and up-and-down
wanderings through the town, I pick up a great deal of news early and late,
without much profit to myself, or benefit to the public, but as I am now on the
staff of the Cork Reporter, for you know it is myself, Sir, that carries about your paper every day, and
it gives me much pleasure to state that it is well received by all classes and
all parties, irrespective of creed or political feelings, which, by Dad, gives me a large commission.
The great desideratum of our gaining a local name and habitation among
the “Northerns” is already achieved and,
although the “South” may have many attractions, they are not a bit beyond us in
intelligence; we can estimate measures, not men, and we can draw a distinction between what is
for our good and otherwise, but that is not here or there to what I want to
say.
Some few weeks ago the watchman
that is here spied upon Maurice O’Halloran, and in consequence was he fined £1 and costs
for having some persons in his house at 11 o’clock at night. This was all right you will say, but I say it
was all wrong, as the watchman, being paid by the shopkeepers only to sing out
the hour, ought to let the police mind their own business. At any rate, a few
persons in the town, determined to put down the wretched crew of informers that exist here, signed a paper appointing
another man and the people were afraid
of signing this for fear of causing anger to themselves, or annoying the
head who put his tail into it.
But as I am heartily sick of the
low tricks and ignorant devices of officialism in Listowel , I hasten to inform
you that I am going out on Sunday to see that far-famed and justly celebrated
watering place called Ballybunnion, on a visit to your agent there. Mr. Harence, the popular Landlord of that
locality , was there last week, and was welcomed with bonfires, &c. He
placed a splendid clock, at his own expense solely, in the church, which is of
great advantage to the folk, as they will know “the time o’ day.” He is about
fitting up a hotel, which I do not see much use of, as there is a first-class
one there before, kept by one of the most obliging landlords in the country. I
do not know how will he act towards this hotel-keeper, as the place will not
support two; if he is strong he ought to be merciful, and look to what he
exemplifies in his own case- vested rights.
I am told he is about to build a
number of cottiers’ houses which will be of service to the working classes,
that is if the working classes are there for them. He is also to start a public
car, connecting it with Foynes Railway, so that tourists may proceed at once to
Ballybunnion without waiting at Listowel. All these arrangements to be effected
this season.
Ballybunnion, as a watering place, stands
unrivalled for scenic beauty. All along, an iron bound coast is lashed by the
billows of the mighty Atlantic, and the wild scream of the sea-birds, as they
rise on high, fills one with awe. The healthful breeze blowing landward, braces
the nerves and gives renewed courage to face manfully the trials of life and
struggle among those contending upward and onward. There are some beautiful
natural caves through which, at high-water mark, the sea rolls, disporting itself
through the basalt rocks until it makes an outlet at Doon Bay, a sad and
solitary spot, where the curlew’s wail is heard far away.
The strand is a beautiful level table of sand, firm
and unyielding, and the places set apart for male and female bathers are well
selected, and possess every advantage. Mr. Harence, it is said, will erect
baths, a consummation devoutly to be wished for, as we calculate, after a
little trial they will compete with any in the country. The town of
Ballybunnion consists of a number of houses with a large and commodious hotel,
where every accommodation can be got. Mr. Scanlan, the proprietor, is an
intelligent gentleman, who gives his best attention to tourists, and all
parties visiting the waters. As the season is likely to be a crowded one there,
I will after my visit give you a few more particulars – I remain, Sir, your
obedient servant, LAME PADDY.”
Local Grievances and Local
Scenery –
Letter from Listowel, published
in the Southern Reporter and Cork Commercial Courier of 11 May 1865.
We forward the subjoined letter, which has been handed to us
by “Lame Pady,” our news boy. Hitherto we did not give the writer credit for
such flippancy of thought, but he ensures us that the effusions are his own,
and though we differ broadly from him in his views as regards the duties of the
night watchman referred to, yet there are some locally important matters
adverted to which may render the letter worthy of a place :-
“To the Editor of the Daily Reporter.
Church-Lane, Listowel, 10th May 1865,
Dear Sir – In my meanderings and up and down wanderings
through the town, I pick up a great deal of news early and late, without much
profit to myself, or benefit to the public, but as I am now on the staff of the
Cork Reporter, for you know it is myself, Sir,
That carries about your paper every day, and it gives me much pleasure
to state that it is well received by all classes and all parties, irrespective
of creed or political feelings, which by dad, gives me a large commission.
The great desideratum of
our gaining a local name and habitation among the “Northerns” is already achieved and, although the “South”
may have many attractions, they are not a bit beyond us in intelligence, we can
estimate measures, not men and we can
draw a distinction between what is for our good and otherwise, but that is not
here or there to what I want to say.
Some few weeks ago the watchman that is here spied upon
Maurice O’Halloran, and in consequence
was he fined £1 and costs fo having some persons in his house at 11 o’clock at
night. This was all right you will say,
but I say it was all wrong, as the watchman, being paid by the shopkeepers only
to sing out the hour, ought to let the police mind their own business. At any
rate, a few persons in the town , determined to put down the wretched crew of
informers that exist here, signed a
paper appointing another man and the people were afraid of signing this for fear of causing anger to
themselves, or annoying the head who put his tail into it.
But as I am heartily sick of the low tricks and ignorant
devices of officialism in Listowel , I hasten to inform you that I am going out
on Sunday to see that far-famed and justly celebrated watering place called
Ballybunnion, on a visit to your agent there.
Mr. Harence (sic), the popular Landlord of that locality , was there
last week, and was welcomend with bonfires, &c. He placed a splendid clock
at his own expense solely in the church, which is of great advantage to the
folk, as they will know “the time o’ day.”
He is about fitting up a hotel, which I do not see much use
of, as there is a first-class one there before, kept by one of the most
obliging landlords in the country. I do not know how will he act towards this
hotel-keeper, as the place will not support two; if he is strong he ought to be
merciful, and look to what he exemplifies in his own case- vested rights.
I am told he is about to build a number of cottier’s houses,
which will be of service to the working classes, that is if the working classes
are there for them. He is also to start a public car, connecting it with Foynes
Railway, so that tourists may proceed at once to Ballybunnion without waiting
at Listowel. All these arrangements to be effected this season.
Ballybunnion,
as a watering place, stands unrivalled for scenic beauty. All along an iron
bound coast is lashed by the billows of the mighty Atlantic, and the wild
scream of the sea-birds, as they rise on high, fills one with awe. The
healthful breeze blowing landward, braces the nerves and gives renewed courage
to face manfully the trials of life, and struggle among those contending upward
and onward.
There
are some beautiful natural caves through which at high water mark the sea
rolls, disporting itself through the basalt rocks, until it makes an outlet at
Doon Bay, a sad and solitary spot, where the curlew’s wail is heard far away.
The strand is a beautiful level table of sand, firm and unyielding, and the
places set apart for male and female bathers are well selected, and possess
every advantage. Mr. Harence (sic), it is said, will erect baths, a
consummation devoutly to be wished for, as we calculate after a little trial,
they will compete with any in the country.
The
town of Ballybunnion consists of a number of houses with a large and commodious
hotel, where every accommodation can be got. Mr. Scanlan, the proprietor, is an
intelligent gentleman, who gives his best attention to tourists, and all
parties visiting the waters. As the season is likely to be a crowded one there,
I will after my visit give you a few more
particulars – I remain, sir, your obedient servant, LAME PADDY.”
