The Mother Of Young Lynch, Having Exhausted All Efforts To
Obtain Mercy For Her Son, Flew In Distraction To The Blake Tribe - She
Was A Blake - And Raised The Whole Clan For A Rescue.
When the hour of
execution dawned, the castle was surrounded by the armed clan of the
Blakes, demanding that the prisoner be spared for the honor of the
family.
The Warder addressed the crowd, entreating them to submit to the
majesty of the law, but in vain. He led his son - who, when he had borne
the shame, and came to feel the guilt of his deeds, had no desire to
live - up the winding stair in the building to that very arched window
that overlooks the street, and there, to that iron staple that is fixed
in the wall, he hung him with his own hands, after embracing him, in
sight of all the people. The father expected to die by the hands of the
angry crowd below, but they, awed, went home at a dead march. The mother
died of the shock, and the sternly just old man lived on. I looked at
his house in Lombard street. Over the entrance is a skull and cross
bones in relief on black marble, with this motto, which I copied,
"REMEMBER DEATH
Vanitie of vanities, and all is but vanitie."
There is a fine museum in Queen's College, Galway, which I did not see.
Of course there are many things I did not see, although my eyes were on
hard duty while there.
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