An Irish lass

Mary lay her head deep into her soft feather pillow on her bed in Lincolnville. She had walked up behind George’s young colt, startling both she and the horse. The horse reacted, kicking Mary on the side of her head. Her head had a dull ache, but her memories were vivid. She had come so many, many miles since her childhood.

Mary had been born and soon after baptized on May 2, 1841, in the parish of Freshford, in Tullaroan, Kilkenny County, in Ireland, the daughter of Patrick and Julia (Delaney) O’Neil. Her mother, Julia, had told Mary the village where they lived was called Knockagrass, or Lackanagrass, a small subdivision of the townland of Courtstown.

Mary’s parents had been married there in March of 1840. They could see the old Courtstown Castle in the distance. Even when Mary was a child, the castle was in disrepair.

Though she was young when they left Ireland, Mary could still see in her mind the beautiful grassland of old Erin. Her family was poor, living in a very old hut with a thatched roof. It was a comfortable home for Mary, her parents and her three younger sisters, Catherine, Cecelia and Julia.

That was, until the landlords wanted all of the land for themselves. Mary did not understand all that happened, but she did remember the day the men in uniforms came, telling Papa that he and his family would have to leave their home. Then the men burned the roof of their home, frightening the children, causing Cecelia and baby Julia to cry.

Often there had not been enough to eat. Some of the neighbors were gone. Mary heard Mamma whisper to Papa that they had died. It seemed as though someone died daily. The Parish Priest came often to the neighborhood. Mary’s family was Catholic. Because of the rules and laws in the area, it was hard for the family to go to church or Mass, or even to ask the priest for prayers. Mary’s simple faith as a child assured her that their Heavenly Father would take care of them.

Papa worked for the landowners. He raised crops of potatoes which they called ‘lumpers‘, corn and grains. It was hard to feed a growing family when so much tax of both money and grains were required to pay the rich landowners, merchants and the English crown.

Mamma had made butter, though all but a small amount went to England for taxes. Papa said while those around them were starving and dying, the rich people in England were well-fed.

The law did not allow the girls to go to school because they were Catholic. Papa said being Catholic was one of the reasons the people were starving. She remembered for the last two years when he dug his potatoes, they were rotting, stinking and unfit even to feed hogs. Papa had called it a ‘blight’. Papa’s potatoes were not the only ones that were bad. No one in the neighborhood had potatoes to eat.

There was no one for the family to go to for help. Both Papa and Mamma’s parents were old. They could not help because they too were hungry and poor. One day, Papa said they were going to Liverpool where they would board a ship to go to Canada, which was nearly on the other side of the world. Many of the neighbors were also going. They said goodbye to all the relatives. There was much crying. Mary did not realize then that she would never see most of them again.

Waiting in Liverpool was not pleasant. They stayed with others they knew, all of them sleeping in a long shed, built to house the people waiting for the ships to leave.

They did not have much for worldly goods to take with them. Once aboard the ship, life on the three-week voyage was almost unbearable. There were hundreds of men, women and children in a dark place in the bottom of the rickety old ship, which creaked and moaned, as did those aboard who suffered from seasickness, fever, dysentery and many other sicknesses. Some seemed to be insane, ranting and raving constantly. People here also died daily.

The smell was a mix of a putrid aroma, a smell Mary never forgot. The food was bad, salty, and there was very little of it. They were given a small ration of water, which was never enough. Mary later learned they were aboard what was called a “Coffin Ship.”

The family arrived in late fall in Montreal, Canada. Mary thought that it had been in 1853. The conditions there were not much better than they had been in Liverpool, and they resided in long barns in the slums. Their ragged clothing did little to keep out the cold.

Mamma was soon to have another baby. Papa worked at whatever job he could find, but there were hundreds of Irish fathers in Canada looking for work. Papa felt he had to keep his growing family together, to make a better life for them.

Mamma convinced him to take the four little girls and go to Massachusetts where he had heard there was work. Once he got them settled in with the Ryan family, who had come all the way from Ireland with them, he could return for her and their new baby.

So, Papa took 12-year-old Mary, 10-year-old Kate, 5-year-old Cecelia and baby Julia, then only 2, on the giant train to Northampton, Mass. The families had arranged to live together until they could make it on their own. Papa went back to Canada for Mamma and baby Ellen.

Papa worked as a manual laborer. He took any job that was available, from cleaning out stables to slopping hogs and digging ditches. When Mary was about 14, she worked in a button shop, followed by the other girls as soon as they were old enough.

Later, Mary went to work in the Florence Hotel, working for Mrs. Sarah Abercrombie as a maid. The hotel was a boarding house, where there was always work to do. Mary lived at the hotel. She could never have imagined before she came to America of having indoor plumbing, water in the sink and in the toilet. She scrubbed and cleaned, made beds, did laundry, cleaned slop buckets, spittoons, and so many other things. The work was arduous, and the days were long, but with all of the family members diligently working and saving, and after sending money home to grandparents and other relatives struggling in old Ireland, they got a better place to live, eventually buying a house in Leeds.

There was a new Catholic church within walking distance of where she lived. She kept in close contact with her mother and siblings.

In Massachusetts, brothers John and Richard were born. But Papa had grown old much before his time. They had come to Leeds in about 1854. Mary saw her father struggle in the homeland to feed his family, keeping them from the workhouses, and together through the long journey from the old country.

He worked from sunup to sundown every day of the week, while trying to observe his Catholic Sabbath, only to get sick with Typhoid fever. Papa died May 5, 1864 in Leeds. He was buried in St. Mary’s Cemetery in Easthampton, Mass. He was only fifty-one years old. Rose was born the year Papa died, leaving mother with eight children. Thank God, the eldest girls were able to help support the family.

Mary recalled the day she met a handsome young man from Maine by the name of George Washington Lermond. George also had Irish roots, but he was not Catholic. Their love prevailed. Mary and George were married in September 1866, two years after Papa had passed away. When Mary left Northampton to marry George, Sarah Abercrombie gave her a little photo album.

Mary left her home and close-knit family, moving with George to Connecticut where his older brother, Isaac lived. Their first son, Fred was born in Connecticut.

George decided it was time to take his family back to Maine. They first lived on Park Street in Rockland, where Julia Katherine [called Katie], Flora Maud [called Maud], George Patrick, Richard John and Frankie were born.

Mary kept in touch with her family in Massachusetts, having photos taken of her family in Rockland to send home. In return, she received photos from her mother, siblings and their families, which Mary kept in the little album that Mrs. Abercrombie had given her.

George worked as a laborer, though he wanted a farm. Coming up to Lincolnville in 1882, he and Mary purchased the Knight farm in the western part of town, near Levenseller Pond. Their near neighbors were Frank and Cynthia Levenseller, (see Levenseller) whose children were Jennie, Edgar and Addie. The children were great friends playing together. They attended Lamb school, where Frank Levenseller sometimes taught.

Mary once wrote to one of her sisters that she was ostracized in Lincolnville until her children were grown because she was a Catholic in a Protestant community. The nearest Catholic church was in Camden.

What a joyous time Mary and her family shared! George raised the usual farm animals, including cows, hens, ducks, sheep and his prize horses. The family made a game of getting in the hay, working together in the garden that George had planted, or just feeding the chickens. They raised many vegetables, which they put up for the winter, including potatoes of several kinds. Mary baked, boiled, cooked and canned. She made butter from the Jersey cows' fresh thick cream. Never again would she go hungry, nor ever see her children begging for food and water. How she thanked God for that!

Mary and her daughters had beautiful singing voices. They would sing as they worked around the fine old farmhouse. The boys were lively lads. The family had picnics, played with their animals, clowned around, laughed and had a great time together.

Mary, George and the children occasionally took the Boston Steamer from Camden to Massachusetts to visit her family, and to Connecticut to visit Isaac and his family. Mary’s siblings all had families of their own.

Mary’s family was grown. Fred married Edith Smith in 1893. Katie married Sylvanus Griffin in 1897 and Richard married Annie Marriner in 1901. George moved to Massachusetts where he was engaged to Julia Lenehan. Kate and Sylvanus moved to Massachusetts also. They had a small son, Leonard, who died as an infant.

Mary wept as she recalled her beautiful twenty-nine year old daughter, Maud, developing tuberculosis. Maud died in April of 1902. Mary had begged George to allow her to call a priest before Maud died. He had finally relented. While the priest was in their home, Mary asked for blessing for her family. Mary and Frankie both suffered from the effects of tuberculosis.

Mary kept her faith in a loving God throughout some difficult times in her life. God had been faithful to her. The angel at her side was proof of that. Mary quietly passed away of heart failure Aug. 9, 1902, four months after Maud’s passing. She was fifty-nine years old. Two months later, her beloved son, Frankie, passed away of the dreaded disease Oct. 3, 1902, at the age of twenty.

Only ten years later, her youngest son, Bernard, succumbed to the same disease, aged twenty-eight. They are buried together in the Upper Cemetery in Lincolnville. It could truly be said of Mary, “Her children shall arise up, and call her blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)