Iowa Old Press
Davenport Weekly Leader; Davenport, Scott, Iowa; Wednesday, July 12, 1893
MARRIAGE LICENSES
The following marriage licenses have been issued since our
last report:
John Oberleitner, Lizzie Arp
Johannes Pruter, Dora Tiedje.
OBITUARY.
Mrs. Katherine Wiese, wife of Jochim Wiese, died at the
family residence in Mt. Joy Monday morning. The cause of death was cancer, for
which an operation was performed last fall in Mercy hospital, but the disease
was too far gone to be entirely eradicated. Mrs. Wiese, nee Stuhr, was born
March 3, 1828, in Laboe in Probstein, and was married to Jochim Wiese in 1859.
They came to America and settled in Mt. Joy in 1873. Her husband and five
children survive to mourn her loss. The children are Mrs. Bertha Buhmann and
Mrs. Ann Petersen, of Osmond, Neb., Mrs. Katherine Tihle, of Wilton in Clinton
county, John Wiese, of Eldridge and Henry Wiese of Lost Spring, Wyo. The funeral
will take place Wednesday afternoon at 2 o'clock from the family residence.
Interment will be in Pine Hill cemetery.
GREEHY
Mrs. Margaret Greehy, who was for thirty-two years a resident
of this city but who has made her home in Rock Island since 1878, died there
Tuesday morning at the residence 2533 Vine street, at 4:20 o'clock. The cause of
death was catarrh of the stomach, from which Mrs. Greehy had been a sufferer for
about a year. The deceased was a native of Ireland, and was born in the
county of Sligo 64 years ago. She came to Davenport in 1846 and as stated lived
in this community for thirty-two years, making and retaining hosts of friends by
whom the news of her death will be received with great regret and sorrow. Two
sons survive, John and Thomas, both well-known and respected engineers on the
Rock Island railroad.
The funeral will take place Thursday morning with requiem
services at St. Joseph's church, Rock Island, at 9 a.m. After the services the
remains will be taken to St. Marguerite's cemetery in this city for interment.
BRANDT
Sunday morning occurred the death of Mrs. Doris Brandt at the
family residence 602 west Fourth street. The cause of death was an apoplectic
stroke, which affected Mrs. Brandt at the beginning of last week. She was born
in Pronsdorf, near Kiel, and came to America with her parents July 7, 1846.
After a stay of three and one-half years in Erie, Pa., she came to Davenport in
1850. Here she was married to Mr. Wm. Brandt Nov. 22, 1856. Her husband and ten
children survive with her aged mother to mourn her loss. The surviving children
are William, who lives in Denver, Colo.; Mrs. Sophie Ehlers and Mrs. Mary Seeley
and August Brandt of Scribner, Neb.; and Doris, Emma, Augusta, Julia and Julius
at home. The funeral will take place tomorrow afternoon at 2 o'clock from the
residence.
MEYER.
H.F. Meyer, a respected citizen of Davenport, died Friday at
his home, 901 West Third street. Mr. Meyer was born in Schleswig, Germany, March
30, 1825, and was a soldier in the war of 1848-49. He was married in 1851 and
came to the United States in 1861, locating soon after in Davenport. Mr. Meyer
pursued his trade as shoemaker, with success and acquired an honorable
competency for himself and family. He had lately erected a new residence near
Fifth and Warren streets, but death prevented his enjoying the pleasure of
dwelling in the new home. A wife and two daughters survive to mourn his loss.
M'CARTHY.
Saturday morning at 7:30 occurred the death of Margaret
McCarthy, at Mercy hospital, the cause of death being cancer. She had been
a patient in the insane ward of the hospital ever since 1879. She was 73 years
old, and was sent here from Cass county. The interment took place in St.
Marguerite's cemetery.
THE IRISH VILLAGES
Two Interesting Shows at the World's Fair
Located in Midway Plaisance
On Village Under the Superintendency of Lady Aberdeen and the Other of Mrs.
Alice Hart-
Blarney Castle with the Blarney Stone and Donegal Castle Reproduced-
Bonny Irish Lassies.
WORLD'S FAIR, July 7-[Special]- There are two
shows on the Midway plaisance which are not only interesting in themselves
but worthy of our attention and support because they are something more than
mere private speculations. These are the two Irish villages, established here
accidentally to show the progress that has been made in handiwork among the poor
people of Ireland under the patronage of two associations, and more directly to
earn a little money to help along that work of industrial education where it is
so much needed and where it is doing so much good. Quaint and picturesque are
the two villages and they adorn the always interesting landscape of the World's
fair as no other structures do. One has for its principal entrance a
reproduction of a part of the noted ruins of ecclesiastical buildings which
stand on the rock of Cashel in county Tipperary, with Blarney castle as another
attraction. The other building has as its chief architectural adornment a
reproduction of Donegal castle. Its entrance is a great feudal gate with tower,
and both villages, with their heavy walls and battlements and their collections
of peasant's houses with thatched roofs and walls of turf, carry the visitor
over both sea and time.
The first of these villages, the one with Blarney castle,
stands near the entrance to the plaisance, and is perhaps the more popular of
the two. It was founded by Lady Aberdeen, as president of the Irish Industry
association, which has been in existence now some seven years and which in that
time has taught thousands of poor Irish boys and girls how to work to best
advantage with their hands. It has organized the working people of many
counties, and taught them lace-making, dairy-farming, basket-making,
wood-carving, shirt-making, knitting, weaving and many other trades. Moreover,
it has helped the workers to find a market for their products, and has now two
large stores, one in London and the other in Dublin, handling exclusively the
handiwork of the pupils and dependents of the association. These stores are not
only self-supporting, but last year were able to turn over to the association a
profit of $25,000, and this money was used in extending the organization so as
to give a much larger number of needy people the benefits of its teaching and
help.
The other village, known as the Drogheda castle, was built by
Mrs. Alice Hart, for a similar purpose. Ten years ago two English women
journeyed through parts of Ireland expressly to observe the condition of the
people. They traveled not by railway, but by the familiar jaunting cart, which
passed through the highways and stopped at the doors of the houses and humble
homes of the poor. They saw so much poverty and suffering, so much willingness
to work if only the opportunity could be found, so much heroism and
self-sacrifice and at the same time so many deft fingers that could work to good
advantage if they had but the chance, that the hearts of the English women were
touched and they resolved to do what they could, be it much or little, to
ameliorate the condition of those unhappy people. They returned to London,
organized an association, sought assistance and found it and speedily opened
schools and factories and arranged for markets. In ten years they have been able
to put thousands of idle hands to work and to bring peace and comfort into homes
where poverty and hopelessness formerly reigned.
These Irish villages are so much alike that to describe one
of them is to describe both. Taking the one nearest the gate, we pay a quarter
for a ticket which admits us to everything in the enclosure. First we enter a
charming reproduction of far-famed Muckross abbey. Here the cloisters are cool,
the grass grows green in the church yard, a tree stands within, and one's
thoughts are of the graves and the heroes of bygone days. But the Irish village
is nothing if not practical, and the visitor must not linger long in the
cloisters. There is much else to see. Emerging from these sacred precincts one
finds himself confronted with an array of real Irish cottages in which the
inhabitants of this busy little community ply their industries.
Here is one large room which takes us across the sea to the
shores of the Emerald isle. There is a turf-fire in the chimney, and over it
hands the potato pot. The bare wood floor is scrupulously clean. Neatness but
not luxury are visible everywhere. In one corner, near a latticed window, sits
Ellen Aher, who was trained at the Presbyterian convent of Youghal to make the
fine needle point lace which is perhaps the most admired of all the products of
Ireland. She works as fast as she can from early morning till late at night, but
is unable to supply the demand. Near by Kate Kennedy illustrates the making of
applique lace as it is done in the cottage homes of Carrickmackross, and Mary
Flynn, a little farther along, is hard at work upon the fine crochet stuff made
by the poor women in the vicinity of Clones, County Monaghan, and already well
known and much admired in America. Ellie Murphy, one of the bonniest of the many
bonny Irish lasses in the village, shows how the pretty light Limerick lace is
made, which is fast gaining its old-time popularity since Mrs. Vere O'Brien and
other ladies and gentlemen have made efforts to improve the designs.
The Irish girls are so fresh of face, so winsome of manner
and yet so earnest in their work that one dislikes to pass on, but there are
many more cottages awaiting inspection. In the next one Bridget McGinley hums an
Irish ditty as she makes her old-fashioned wheel sing also as it works turning
out the wool for Patrick Fagan from Donegal to weave into those delightful
homespuns whose merits have been appreciated of late years by fashionable folk
as well as by the sportsman and athlete. Maggie Dennehy, buxom and smiling, sits
near by plying her knitting needles and showing how Miss Fitzgerald, one of the
association teachers, taught the poor women of Valencia island, County Kerry to
earn their own living.
There are people who do not like buttermilk, but if they wish
to overcome their distaste for it my advice to them is to visit the dairy in the
Irish village and take a glass of the cooling beverage from the rosy hands of
Johanna Doherty, Kate Barry or Maria Connolly, the three dairymaids. These girls
were taught the art of buttermaking-which is a real art-in the Munster Dairy
school, an excellent institution near Cork, where all branches of scientific
agriculture are taught, to the great benefit of the people. In the dairy you may
have not only buttermilks but may purchase pretty little pats of butter to eat
with your luncheon on the tables which are waiting for you in the cool and shady
court near by. While you are eating a pair of lusty Irish boys come out upon the
stage or platform in the center of the court, and give you an hour of refreshing
amusement. Jimmy Touhy plays the pipes and Patrick Brannigan, the crack
jig-dancer of the South of Ireland, rattles off some very clever jigs. Willie
Roche, smooth-faced and bright-eyed, as all these Irish boys are, comes out and
sings-
I am an Irish boy, my heart is full of joy,
I owe my birth to a famous Limerick city.
I can handle well the twig or flitter an Irish jig,
And give you stave of any Irish ditty.
Willie Roche is the finest singer in Ballynookeava. Miss
Josephine Sullivan is a noted harpist in the Emerald isle, and she often brings
tears to those who sit here in Tara's hall, an excellent reproduction which
serves as a music hall for the village, and plays the sweetly patriotic airs of
the old sod.
There are many other industries which we have not seen yet,
and having finished our luncheon and heard the music and singing we pass on to
see Mary Fagan make torchon lace on a pillow, and to watch Mary Cosgrove doing
her pretty embroidery. The latter is from Bagnalstown, where Mrs. Edward
Ponsonby has founded a school for the teaching of this art. In another cottage,
with its quaint, old-fashioned furniture and open roof, a great collection of
Irish photographs is kept for sale at reasonable prices. The bog-oak bazaar is
quite interesting. You will be surprised when you come here to see the immense
variety of pretty articles which the nimble fingers of the Irish boys have
turned out from this material. I can think of no better souvenirs of the
exposition then these carvings of the oak of the bog land, and there is the
sweet consciousness that every penny you spend here will go to lighten the day
for some needy people in that unfortunate land.
Now we have come to Blarney castle. There is no additional
admission fee, as there would be in any of the purely speculative show-villages
which possessed such an attraction. We walk up and around the spiral stairway a
seemingly interminable height and finally emerge on the roof overlooking the
battlements of the castle and "all Ireland" spread out below. At one
side a green rug has been thrown down on the floor and there, set low and deep
in the white wall of the castle we see a small, dark stone, about as big as a
man's head. It is a piece of the genuine old blarney stone, famous in song and
story. By its side sits a small Irish lad, clad in corduroy homespun, and his
business it is to receive the dimes of the visitors who may wish to kiss the
stone. He is a glum little fellow, who evidently has been chaffed so much, and
compelled to answer so many questions, that he is tired. He has little to say,
but is always ready to receive the bright silver pieces, and a steady stream of
the white metal passes through his eager fingers into his green-lined pockets.
Over the blarney stone is an inscription which reads:
This is the stone that whoever kisses
He never misses to grow eloquent.
A clever spouter he'll turn out,
Or an out-an-outer in parliament.
And below is a tablet on which has been cut these words:
BLARNEY STONE.
This stone of world-wide renown was
placed in position and dedicated to
the Irish-Americans of the United
States by the Hon. Carter H.
Harrison, Mayor of Chi-
cago, June 17,1893.
Ten cents each person to kiss the blarney stone. And the
people do kiss the blarney stone. From $50 to $60 dollars a day is the size of
the pile taken in by the boy in the homespun. The women kiss it, too, though in
order to do so they are compelled to get down on their hands and knees and stick
their noses into a sort of a crevice in the wall a foot below the level of the
floor. But even this is not as hard as kissing the original stone in Blarney
castle, for there, they say, you have to be held over the top of the wall by
your heels.
ROBERT GRAVES.
THE TOUCH OF A CYCLONE
The Recent Storm in the County and Some of its Antics.
The strong wind storm, which was in the nature of a cyclone,
on Thursday last, did considerable damage in this county, not far from this
city. On Mr. W.B. Murray's place, on the Orphan's Home road about six and a half
miles from town, a wind mill, tower and all was blown over and wrecked. But on
the Rush place on the Long Grove road about a half mile west of the Murray
place, the cyclonic character of the storm was more manifest. Quite a number of
large cottonwood trees were blown down, and one especially large one, being of a
diameter of nearly three feet, was apparently twisted off about two feet from
the ground. The rotary movement of the wind is plainly noticeable at this place.
At Peter Wiese's place near there quite a number of trees were also blown down,
but were broken off about ten or fifteen feet from the ground showing that the
vortex of the atmosphere maelstrom was rising at that point. No really serious
damage was done, by the destruction of the trees, etc., shows that the storm was
at least in part of a cyclonic character.
Submitted by C.J.L., May 2006