Chapter 6

[The following curious sketch is from Mr W. R. Wilde's _Irish Popular Superstitions_, printed in M'Glashan's _Readings in Popular Literature_. It does not refer to a superstition, but to one of those facts which exhibit as much of the preternatural as the wildest excursion of fancy. A portion of the little volume is reprinted from the _Dublin University Magazine_, and, for aught we know, Lady Betty may have made her appearance originally in that work.]

The old jail of Roscommon stood, and, although now converted to other purposes, still stands in the market-place, in the centre of the town. It is an exceedingly high, dark, gloomy-looking building, with a castellated top, like one of the ancient fortresses that tower above the houses in many of the continental cities. It can be discerned at a great distance; and, taken in connection with the extensive ruins of O'Connor's Castle, in the suburbs, and the beautiful abbey upon the other side of the town, seems to partake of the character of the middle-age architecture. The fatal drop was, perhaps, the highest in Ireland. It consisted of a small doorway in the front of the third storey, with a simple iron beam and pulley above, and the _lapboard_ merely a horizontal door hinged to the wall beneath, and raised or let fall by means of a sliding-bolt, which shot from the wall when there was occasion to put the apparatus of death in requisition. Fearful as this elevated gallows appeared, and unique in its character, it was not more so than the finisher of the law who then generally officiated upon it. No decrepit wretch, no crime-hardened ruffian, no secret and mysterious personage, who was produced occasionally disguised and masked, plied his dreadful trade here. Who, think you, _gentle_ reader--who now, perhaps, recoils from these unpleasant but truthful minutiæ--officiated upon this gallows high?--a female!--a middle-aged, stout-made, dark-eyed, swarthy-complexioned, but by no means forbidding-looking woman--the celebrated Lady Betty--the finisheress of the law--the unflinching priestess of the executive for the Connaught circuit, and Roscommon in particular, for many years. Few children, born or reared in that county thirty, or even five-and-twenty years ago, who were not occasionally frightened into 'being good,' and going to sleep, and not crying when left alone in the dark, by _huggath a' Pooka_, or, 'here's Lady Betty.' The only fragment of her history which we have been able to collect is, that she was a person of violent temper, though in manners rather above the common, and possessing some education. It was said that she was a native of the County Kerry, and that by her harsh usage she drove her only son from her at an early age. He enlisted; but, in course of years, returned with some money in his pocket, the result of his campaigning. He knocked at his father's door, and asked a night's lodging, determined to see for himself whether the brutal mother he had left had in any way repented, or was softened in her disposition, before he would reveal himself. He was admitted, but not recognised. The mother, discovering that he possessed some money, murdered him during the night. The crime was discovered, and the wretched woman sentenced to be hanged, along with the usual dockful of sheep-stealers, Whiteboys, shop-lifters, and cattle-houghers, who, to the amount of seven or eight at a time, were invariably 'turned off' within four-and-twenty hours after their sentences at each assizes. No executioner being at hand, time pressing, and the sheriff and his deputy being men of refinement, education, humanity, and sensibility, who could not be expected to fulfil the office which they had undertaken--and for which one of them, at least, was paid--this wretched woman, being the only person in the jail who could be found to perform the office, consented; and under the name of Lady Betty, officiated, unmasked and undisguised, as _hangwoman_ for a great number of years after; and she used also to flog publicly in the streets, as a part of her trade. Numerous are the tales related of her exploits, which we have now no desire to dwell upon. We may, however, mention one extraordinary trait of her character. She was in the habit of drawing, with a burnt stick, upon the walls of her apartment, portraits of all the persons she executed.

THE WILL AND THE WAY.

I learned grammar when I was a private soldier on the pay of sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of my guard-bed, was my seat to study in; my knapsack was my bookcase, and a bit of board lying in my lap was my writing-table. I had no money to purchase candle or oil; in winter, it was rarely that I could get any light but that of the fire, and only my turn even of that. To buy a pen or piece of paper, I was compelled to forego some portion of food, though in a state of half-starvation. I had not a moment of time that I could call my own; and I had to read and write amid the talking, laughing, singing, whistling, and bawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men--and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all control. And I say, if I, under these circumstances, could encounter and overcome the task, is there--can there be, in the whole world, a youth who can find an excuse for the non-performance?--_William Cobbett_.

PAPER-MILLS.

A return has been made of the number of paper-mills at present at work in England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland; also of the number of 'beating-engines' in each mill. From this it appears that there are in England 304 paper-mills at present in activity, having 1267 beating-engines at work, and 107 silent. In Scotland, there are 48 mills, having 278 beating-engines at work, and 8 silent. In Ireland, there are 28 mills, having 71 beating-engines at work, and 15 silent. In Wales, there are no paper-mills. The total is, 880 mills, having 1616 beating-engines at work, and 130 silent.

LINES TO ----.

O could I love thee, love as thou art worthy to be loved, Thy deep, thy constant tenderness my purpose might have moved. I know, might I accept thy heart, a blissful lot were mine; Would we had earlier met--but no! I never could be thine.

I love thee as a sister loves a brother kind and dear, And feel a sister's thrilling pride whene'er thy praise I hear; And I have breathed a sister's prayer for thee at Mercy's throne, And ne'er a truer, purer love might sister's bosom own.

I knew this trial was in store; I felt it day by day; And oft in agony I prayed this cup might pass away; And yet I lacked the power to tell, what thou too late must hear, To tell thee that another claims this heart to thee so dear.

Alas! that I must cause thee pain--I know that thou wilt grieve-- For oh! thou art all truthfulness; thou never couldst deceive; And I have wept when anxious care sat heavy on thy brow, Have wept when others wounded thee, and I must wound thee now.

It may be that in after-years we yet shall meet again, When time has cancelled every trace of this dark hour of pain: O may I see thee happy, blest, whate'er my lot may be, And, as a sister and a friend, I shall rejoice with thee.

HARRIET.

PROCESS FOR PRODUCING TAPERED IRON.

In No. 430 of this Journal, page 207, there is some mention of the patented rolling process for tapering bar-iron by machinery. This important invention is not of American origin, as persons unacquainted with the facts might imagine: it was first practised at the Mersey Steel and Iron Company's works at Liverpool, and then patented by Mr William Clay in the United States. The Company mentioned were awarded for the manufacture the prize-medal of the Great Exhibition, and the silver medals of the Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, and the American Institute of New York.

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End of Project Gutenberg's Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 444, by Various