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and sat down, saying to himself, "you may do your few others dropped in early in the forenoon, and Tom biz best!”
ventured to let them tarry, though before parliamentary Father Felix also retreated, walking off sturdily to hours ; the house being so new, the police would, he his trim little cottage hard by the legendary Friar's Well. thought, be unapt to suspect him of breaking rules; There the dancing and carolling of two orphan nephews, there was safety in daring yet. The door must needs and their accounts of their day, both work and play, be opened now and again for wife and children on the put Tom out of his memory for the time.
way to and from mass, etc. ; and so when some one else The following Saturday's duty over for the afternoon, presented himself, Tom had not the heart to say him he strolled Tom's way; but saw “no great sign of nay; the taproom door closed silently upon the interchanges yet," he said to himself. “Maybe Tom is waiting loper, and the illegal drop" was drained with double awhile, and thinks to come round me that way.”
zest, Tom was waiting till, as he would describe it, Tom stood within the threshold as the bells rang for " Father Felix would cool and sce how unraisonable it last mass, and the joybells—the bells of Shandon was to want to take the bit out of a man's mouth,” chimed in at service time. In Ireland, reader, the silver which plea, had he heard it, Father Felix would have bells, as the rest of the silver, belong to the establishment. quashed with the rejoinder, “ that it was not the bit Often had he stood, so listening pleasantly to the sounds, but the sup that he was against, and would keep out of parsonic though they seemed, and thinking of the good the yet abstemious mouth of Tom's corner and its be- old times when the old church had its silver chimes; or longings." Still Tom had not been idle, but in a quiet talking them over with a friend, speculating, it may be, way had had the main part of his preparations gone on the time to come when all the bells would be Catholic through while making no sign out of doors. He had again. But this day his ears were turned inward, and progressed deliberately, convincing himself, by the very whilst he watched he could not help fancying that the gravity and thoughtfulness of his proceedings, that he chink of the pewter had a pretty sound with it too. was all right, and that after a while even Father Again the be'ls chimed the quarter before two. And Felix, when he saw how quiet he was keeping, would Tom, who had for caution's sake shut fast the door
Tom did not go so far as to think that he would some time before, now came to hurry out a company of say that he (Father Felix) was wrong; but that he youths who had been lingering within. “Here, out might admit that after all he did not know that Tom was. with ye at wance, boys !” he said, as he raised the bar.
It was only at a late hour in the afternoon of the The boys were following in his steps, but as the door third Saturday following the first encounter that he opened, all drew back. On a small green garden-seat took the final steps towards trying conclusions with without sat Father Felix, placed so as that no one could Father Felix. That is to say, he borrowed a ladder, unseen by him pass to or fro; he held his breviary in and himself mounting thereon, drove in supports hand and read. above his door, hammering them like a Trojan, (as he " It wasn't so aisy to get in here; but 'tis the jeuce thought while doing so), and setting on to creak or swing to get out!" said one of Tom's customers. - very softly and very slowly though, and only when “ Have patience,” said Ton, himself impatient cnorgh the wind blew due east or west-what was a sign of the to be inclined to knock them all down. times no less than of the liquor—a huge photograph of 6. He's reading bis office,” said one," he'll go when the famous brewery, whence he drew his porter. Tom he's done.” was twice his own man all that evening. He had at Tom kept bis suspicions and apprehensions to himthe bottom of his heart a good share of Paddy's regard self, but he looked anxious. for his priest; but just then he did feel pleased to provo “What do we want here till then, losing the day ?". that “ he was his own master in his own affairs," as he said another. said. Tom ballooed before he was out of the wood. All stood silent, but expectant, for many tedious
Much of the succeeding Sunday morning had not minutes. The clock struck two. passed before he got a customer. A neighbour's wife, “ There now,” said Tom; “off with ye, if ye're in a a very decent proper woman, in the estimation of the
hurry.” district, dropped in with God save all here !" on her “We are, an’ we aren't,” one of the lads said, lookway from early mass, and “thrated” another neighbour, ing archly from Tom to his companions. “We don't a woman also, “for the good o' the house." It was want the priest to see us, an' it so airly, too.” the first time for seven years that she tasted liquor 6. Well, then, how can I help you ?” returned Tom. fasting. But she liked to be the first to leave the Father Felix closed his breviary; and with a finger money with Mr. Dunn.
still between its pages, mused, or to speak suitably, Tom knew she had the name of being great bandsel, and meditated for a time. When this would end, the was correspondingly obliged. So much so, that in fact anxious outlookers thought he must be gone. But no; pothing but the noted unluckiness ofrefusing handsel could when the time due to this exercise was over, he drew induce him to take the money at all. But as that was from a supernumerary pocket another volume not quite not a thing to be thought of, he reconciled matters by ecclesiastical in guise, but yet of a beseeming gravity pouring them out a second glass a piece, his treat, he of binding. Again he read, now and then smiling, whehimself joining to keep the women in countenance. A ther at his own thoughts or his author's, was bis secret.
“ I have a crick in my neck wid peeping at him," was whispered behind the door.
"A body 'ould tink 'tis laughin' at us he is, bedad," exclaimed the youngest of the group.
“ If he saw you here, 'tisn't to laugh he 'ould,” replied a very big lad. “An' I saw your uncle goin' down de lane while ago; an' when he's comin' back, as sure as eggs, he will come in to sec de new shop.” Iss, neider,” jeered the youngster in his own dialect,
don't know me uncle? Can't you lave us out some other way, Mr. Dunn ?”
“I have no back door, but you may go through the window, if you like, me boy." “Oh, never say dic," said the little chap, tank
sou Mr. Dunn. Come along, boys."
Tom put them through the window safely and softly. This was, however, but the first part of the escape. They must get into the yard of one of the smaller houses, which was provided with a baek door, and thence beg a passage to the street.
How to account for their appearance there, or indeel, how to appear at all “widout a shindy dat 'ould bring de priest on 'em after all ?" was a difficulty long discussed under shelter of the wall that they designed to get over. It was concluded that the youngest should go first and attempt to propitiate whomsoever might be met. Lifted over the wall by one of the young men, the pioneer felt his daring and invention aise with the reliance placed on him. He knocked gently. A very decent staid-looking woman opened the door.
6 I'd be ever so much obliged to you, ma'am" What brought you in here?” interrupted the woman.
I'd be ever so much obliged to ye ma'am, if you'd let me out," reiterated the petitioner.
But what brought ye into my yard at all, child ?” “I was in at Mr. Dunn's, ma'am,” he said, rubbing the wall with his finger, and in great sceming perplexity, “ an' he let me out dis way, ma'am.”
"A likely story," the woman said. Seeing, however, that the yard held absolutely nothing to be stolen, she hesitated to call him “thief." Why didn't he let yon ont de way you went in ?” she asked.
“Dere's a priest sittin' at de door, ma'am, an' he'd see me.”
“An' if you were dere on any honest errard, what need ye mind his seeing you
“Why, ma'am, me moder 'ouldn't for de world lie'd sec me comin' out iv it, for fear he'd tink 'twas lookin' at any body drinkin' I'd be. Let me out, ma'am, dis wance, an' indeed, an' indeed I'll never cross his door again.”
“ Let you out, indeed, you young' “ Tank yoni, ma'am.”
The woman laughed despite herself. With his wiry hair, lank visage, and mock-piteous air, he looked like a small spaniel begging. “You young vagabone," she said, " at your catechism you ought to be now.''
“ An' 'ris dere I'll be every oder Sunday, ma'am. You'll let me big broders out, too, ma'am; dey were wid me!”
Here the rest of the party thought it best to show beyond the wall, and to second the petitioner. Yc
may pass out, young men," returned the woman
gravely, “ but it's de last time I'll make me house a passage for de likes o' ye.”
Hastily thanking her, they all passed ont, and away as quickly as possible.
Meantime the churches had closed and the publichouses opened simultaneously. A policeman showed at the corner of the little square, to ascertain if all was orderly about the new shop. And what should he see, but Father Felix, still quierly reading-set with balf an eye to the progress of events, and Tom in the background quite alone. Tom frowned. The constable laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and disappeared.
Time passed on, and so did Tom's expected cortomers. Some glanced at Father Felix soberly, soma smilingly, some angrily, but they walked on, one and all. Some thought it was fatigue, some an accident
, and some an oddity, that kept the priest in such a place; but whilst thinking they kept moving also, and Tom's shop remained empty. One lad, indeed, did stride up manfully and enter. But Father Felix glanced from the book at him so mildly, and yet so penetratingly, that the young fellow felt as though it was his mother's eye was on him, as he passed in. And when in he limited his errand to asking loudly enough to be heard without, “ What o'еlock is it?" To which Tom Dunn, supposing the query put merely " to make game of him,” replied so far from civilly as to leave bis intending customer little wish to call again.
Between four and five o'clock all those who would bare visited Tom Dunn, were pretty certain to be housed else where. In faet the place was quiet, and out of dows deserted as midnight. Father Felix saw the little risk of the new house doing much good, i. e. mischie during that evening, and so he raised the siege, and went home to dinner.
During the next and succeeding week-days he cotented himself with making Tom's corner his was to and from his parish business as often as he could, apł taking his walk that way, when leisure allowed him a walk for recreation. On the whole it was impossible to say at what moment he might not be seen and see A rumour that the priests—for rumour multiplies 39 well as magnifics—had set their face against Tim Dunn's public-house, took various shapes in going throagh that quarter. But one and all tended to the same te sult, and pretty closely compassed it; very very few ventured within Tom's door, unless strong and bold in the consciousness of a harmless errand.
At length the struggle drew towards its close. Tom could not conceal from himself that Father Felix hai found means to make good his threat. Sunday, Tom had known, must be his harvest-day; yet three times hal Sunday proved a no-day; while he seemed to enjoy his prolonged sitting, or if he did not really, Tom knes him well enough to be assured that through no personal distaste would he give up what he once had conscientiously determined on doing. “Tis a bad job," said Tora to himself at the close of the third week. And he col cluded upon giving up the struggle; wondering to himself also, (for his wife had gone over to Father Felix's side) that he did not feel more aggrieved "after all."
Next day appeared Father Felix and his seat iu due course. Mrs. Dunn begged Tom to go out at once," as he had his mind made up to do it, an do it with a good grace."
“No," Tom said, “ wait a while.” “ Well then, if you wont, I will."
6 No," repeated Tom, nor the never step! He sat there so many days for his own pleasure, he'll stay this day for mine."
“Be it so," said his wife, seeing that he stood between her and the door, “ 'Tis the dickens to prevail with ye for men."
The afternoon wore away; Father Felix read as usual, and Tom, to pass the time, read too.
“ Tom, you'll let him slip away from ye, I tell ye,” said Mrs. Dunn, more than once.
“I tell you I wont,” responded Tom.
At last the customary hour of rising came, and out walked Tom. “Well, your reverence ?” he said.
“ Well, Tom ?" queried Fatner Felix, and as Tom observed, just as if nothing in the world ever passed between them. "I said I was going to have a public-house, sir, and
wonldn't let me. You kept your word. Now I say I'm going to give it up for goud, and I'll keep minc.”
Father Felix took him by the hand. “I knew, Tom,” he said, “ that you'd come to yourself.”
“ Your reverence didn't take notice that the sign was down ?" said Tom.
" I never thought of looking," Father Felix said. “Guessed you youldn't,” said Tom to himself.
“ But I wouldn't go away without seeing you, if I had, Amantium iræ redintegratio amoris,' Tom," continued Father Felix, who knew that Tom's father, a Kerryman, had kept him at a classical school till he could construe much more than that,
“ That's true, Father Felix,” returned Tom.
“ Here then,” concluded Father Felix, “I'll leave you this seat, Tom, for a keepsake, and my blessing with it, and may it rest with you.” And so saying he again shook Tom's hand and walked away.
And so Tom Dunn's corner is still as quaint and quiet, and Father Felix foudly trusts as primitive, as it was then.
ampie evidence to prove that hospitals and leper houses were established in Ireland at a very early period, in connexion with the monastic institutions, and that the inmates of the latter here, as well as in Italy, exercised the calling of surgeons and physicians for many ages, till the canon law forbade them to continue its practice. It would appear, however, that the chieftains bad each their own hereditary physician, for whose maintenance they allotted large tracts of land, wbich were set apart as the exclusive property of the practitioners, and regarded as a sort of sacred territory in times of war as well as of peace. The independence which the physician was thus enabled to enjoy afforded him ample time to produce medical works, which were carefully transmitred from father to son, some of which have fortunately survived the accidents of time, and are still preserved in the Royal Irish Academy, the British Museum, and other repositories. These tracts are in manuscript, and are, for the most part, translations from the Latia of Avicenna, the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, Galen, Razes, and other fathers of the healing art: The translations, or rather commentaries, all of which are in the Irish character, clearly prove that the early practitioners of medicine in this country strove to advance the progress of their art, and that they did not spend their time idly on those vast estates with which the native princes endowed them. As late as 1571, Campion bears reluctant testimony to their love of general literature, and the prosecution of medical science in particular; for he tells us that the Irish “speak Latin like a vulgar tongue, learned in their common schools of Leach* Craft, whereat they begin children, and hold on to sixteen or twenty years, conning by rote the aphorisms of Hippocrates.”
The names of many of the hereditary physicians have been faithfully transmitted to our tiines, and it may gratify some of our modern medical men to know who they were, and what amount of compensation they rec-ived from their lords and patrons. The O'Cassidys were physicians to the Maguires of Fermanagh for fully two centuries, that is, from 1320 till 1504, when Thomas O'Cassidy, the last hereditary practitioner, wrote a tract on the nature and cure of the different diseases incident to the human frame.” The O‘Lecs were for many centuries physicians to the O'Flaherty's of West Connaught, and one of that learned family, as early as the fisteenth century, produced a most complete course of medicine, written in La:in and Irish. So wonderful were the cnres performed by this Marrogh O’Lee that the natives of West Connaught imagined that he had received all his knowledge from the genii of the enchanted island of O’Brazil! The O'Hickeys were physicians to the O'Briens of Thomond, and other heads of septs in Munster. They possessed a copy of the “ Lily of Medicine," the original of which was written in 1303 ; and a member of the same family (Nicholas O'Hickey) translated the “Rose," a manual of mc
* This word, derived from the Saxon lich, signifying the human bədy, bears a close analogy to the Irisli “Tiagh,” a doctor, or surgeon.
OWEN O'SHIEL, AN M.D. OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Early cultivation of the healing art in Ireland-Endowment of
Hereditary Physicians The O'Cassidys O'Lees - The O'Shiels-Young Owen visits Paris, Louvain, Padua, and Rome - Returns to Ireland-Settles in Dublin-Marries Catherine Tyrrell-takes service under General Preston—Goes orer to Owen Roe-O'Shiel's wise defends the castle of Woodstock Siege of Athy— The Dominican Monastery-Owen Roe's last illres3—His death-bed-O'Shiel follows the fortunes of Henry O'Neill— MacMahon, Bishop of Clogh-r-Council of War-
Battle of Schear-Saullis-Death of O'Shiel, etc. The ancient Irish chieftains were at all times most worshipful patrons of the professors of the healing art, Aud zealous promoters of medical science. We have
dicine, regarded as the most celebrated of its time, of MacCoghlan, and as he lay dying, we may fancy that from Latin into Irish. This “ Rosa Anglica” was the his enemies taunted him with the proverbialism that was work of Gaddesden, who flourished in 1305, and then as common among the Irish as it was formerly O’Hickey's Latin version was made in 1400. To these among the Greeks and Jews, “ Doctor, cure thyself!" la we may add the O'Callanans of Cork, hereditary phy. the subsequent reigns of Mary, Elizabeth, and James sicians to the M'Carthys of Carbery; the O'Donlevys of the First, the hereditary physicians had to share the Tyrconnell, physicians to the princely house of O'Donel; hard fortune of their quondam lords and patrons. Sach the O'Mellans and O’Quinns, all of whom were famed of them as continued to practise their calling doubtless in their day as successful practitioners of the healing had ample field for its exercise; for during the wars of The works which they wrote were
the native Irish with Elizabeth, there was no lack of en vugh to attest their zeal for the advancement of me- patients, though the fees must have been proportiondical science, and we have to deplore the removal of ally small or precarioas. On the accession of James many of them from this country, at a period within our the First confiscations and outlawries stripped them of own memory, when a true spirit of nationality might their ancient holdings, but, true to their liege lords, we hive secured such valuable remains for the Irish Aca- find many of them following the regiments raised in demy or some of onr public libraries. The O'Mearas, Ireland for the Spanish service, and devoting themselves who for a considerable time were hereditary physicians to the fortunes of their fellow-countrymen in foreiga to the Butlers of Ormond, flourished in the sixteenth
lands. and seventeenth centuries, and were the first of our Deprived of their broad lands on the banks of the native physicians who published medical works in Latin. Brosna, the O'Shiels still continued to practise their bereDermod O'Meara has left as a book entitled “ Patho- ditary calling, for as we learn from a valuable manuscript logica Heredetaria Generalis," which was printed in memvir, the head of the family removed to Moycashel, Dublin, in 1619; and Ware says that the same author in the county Westmeath, towards the close of the wrote a tract styled “ Hippocraticam Febrium Ælio- reign of Elizabeth, where he followed the practice of logiam et Prognosim,” which, we believe, has not been medicine for a considerable length of time, and indocpublished. This Dermod O'Meara was a very learned trinated his son Owen in the rudiments of the same elassical scholar, and wrote a very admirable poem in science. It would appear, however, that young Owen, Latin hesameters,* to celebrate the victories of the But- not satisfied with his father's lectures, bent his mind on lers over the i'l-fated house of the great Earl of D2s. acquiring more extensive knowledge than could be mond. His son Elmond and his grandson William found in the “Book of the O'Shiels," " the Lily of were also physicians, and the former wro:e a work on Melicine,” or any other work on the healing art theo fever against the theories of Willis, entitled “ Examen known to Irish physicians. With this object in view Diatribæ Thomae Willisii,” etc., London, 1665. he set out for Paris about the year 1604; and after
The districts allotted by the heads of septs to their attending the lectures of the most distinguished prhereditary physicians were, as we have already said, fessors in that city for a couple of years, he began to very extensive, each consisting of about five hundred think whether he should take out his degree there or acres, which were held in perpetuity from father to soa, qualify himself for it in some other school, where a as long as they continued to practise medicine. Tous diploma could not be had on such easy terms. O'Shiel the O'Cassidy's had Faran-Cassidy, in the county
knew full well the meaning
of the word “ Doctor," and Fermanagh; and the O'Callanans held large tracts from that it signified something more than a mere empty the MacCartlıys, in Carbery ; the O'Shiels, hereditary distinction very often bestowed on blockheads who doctors to the MacCoglılans of Delvin, and the Mac- are not “ habiles ad docendum,” or in plain English
, Mahons of Oriel, held the cstate of Bally-Shiel, on the fit to teach; and reasoning thus, and observing the banks of the Brosna, in the King's County, and this Parisian faculty to be “ somewhat laxat and favourable family for many generations was distinguished in the in the conferring of graduation,” he proceeded to the medical anuals of Ireland. “ The Book of the O'Shiels," University of Louvain, in order to make himself acnow in the Royal Irish Academy, is an evidence of quainted with the profound teaching of Vanderheyden, their zeal and industry, for along with translations Van Garet, and Vieringhen, who ranked among the most of the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, Commentaries upon learned medical men of their time. Having spent three Galeo, Avicenna, and Vessalius, it contains disser- years in Louvain, and taken out his degree there
, tations on the medical properties of herbs and a great O'Shiel, motived by laudable ambition, went to Panumber of tbe plants of this country. The date of the dua, determined on winning the highest honors that manuscript is unknown, but so great was its repute that that far-famed university could bestow. it was transcribed in 1657. “ The Annals of the Four language of his biographer, Padua* was then the Masters” mention the death of Martogh O'Shiel, in nursery of Gallian phisick,' prime angular stone of 1548, styling him “ the best physician of his age anatomy, the only phænic in Europe of medical science in the surrounding country," who was mortally wounded in speculative as well as theorick" in a word, the on the occasion of a petty revolution in the principality great school, whose diploma was never conferred on Vide O'Daly's Geraldines for extracts from O'Meara's
In the quaint
“Extollit Paduam juris studium et Medicinæ."--Edward's “Descriptio Urb. Ital.”
any but those whose deep and extensive acquirements feel their protestant pulses, and there can be little doubt entitled them to it. In Padua he remained an entire that they would have felt themselves far safer in the year, "all the while duly observing the chief practitioners hands of some practitioner of the favoured creed, like and anatomists, assiduously attending the lectures of the Smith, commonly called "Bottle Smith," the only* first chirurgeons, apothecaries, and herbalists, till, after apothecary in Ireland during Elizabeth's reign, whose passing his examination, he there received the degree of chief business it was to compound subtle poisons for doctor, to the high repute of all present.” Famous as the destruction of the Irish chieftains. Smith, indeed, Padua was for its university, O'Shiel thought that he was “ State apothecary,” but Shiel with his Paduan might add to his store of attainments in Rome, and he and Louvain diploma never could have risen to a like accordingly visited that city, where he spent half eminence in the Irish metropolis. His reputation howa year “conversing with the best expositors of both ever brought him patients enough, and the annual penGalen and Hippocrates," till at length, “ laden with all sion which he received from the nobility and gentry of choice juice of both speculative and practice of physical Leinster, must have made him sufficiently independent. salvo3, he returned to Flanders, where he was appointed The memoir from which we quote does not state the chirurgeon-doctor to the army of Albert and Isabella, time of the Doctor's marriage, which, doubtless, took joint sovereigns of the Low Countries.” In this post of place after his return to Ireland, but it furnishes us honor O’Shiel's reputation was soon the theme of every with many particulars concerning the lady on whom tongue, and so marvellous were the cures he wrought- “the Eagle” bestowed his hand and heart. The object cures which, as his biographer informs us, “were rather of his choice was Catherine Tyrrell, daughter of the wondered at than imitable—that he was speedily no- famous captaint who so highly distinguished himself minated chief of the medical faculty in the Royal as a constant ally of Hugh O'Neill during the ElizaJlospital of Malines,” where for twelve years no sort of bethan war, and bequeathed his name to a passi in infirmity escaped him without the application of such the barony of Fertullagh, south of Mullingar, in which curative salvos as nature or art could invent. “ His he slaughtered a thousand men, commanded by Lord name was now bruited in all corners,” continues the Trimblestone's son, then marching against the Ulster memoir, "and he himself the object of all beholders, chieftains. Catherine Tyrrell was a worthy mate for not only for his learning and education, but also for the “ Eagle,” and inherited, as her after life proved, the his civil and amiable deportment.” At length growing chivalrous fidelity of her father. homesick, O'Shiel returned to Ireland in 1620, and At length in 1642, a new and more extensive field settled in Dublin, which at that period had an abundance was opened for O'Shiel's practice; for in that year
the of medical men, and where he lived unknown, until good supreme council of the confederate Catholics had organluck brought him in contact with a patient whose case ized two armies, the one for Leinster, and the other for was pronounced hopeless by all the doctors of the city. Ulster. Preston, of the house of Gormanston, was O’Shiel, however, did not approve their verdict, diagnose appointed general of the Leinster forces, and Owen or treatment, but took the derelict in hand, and by his judi- O'Neill, superseding his relative Sir Phelim of that ilk, cious skill effected a cure which raised him at once to fame was commissioned to lead the northern troops. O'Shiel and eminence among the practitioners of the metropolis. was well known to the two generals, who had frequent The name of the individual thus rescued from the grave- intercourse with him in Flanders, and both were anxious digger, and restored to health by O'Shiel's treatment, to secure his services as surgeon in chief to the corps does not appear, but we may suppose that it must have under their command. “O'Neill
, and Preston,” says been some distinguished person,
66 for no sooner was the the memoir, "could not be without the assistance of so party placed in a posture of safety, than the doctor was good a masterpiece in matters of high concernment," narrowly looked for by all patients, and especially such and the “ Eagle,” after duly weighing the claims which as by other doctors were forsaken, all of whom were by the rival generals had on his "curative powers," made him easily cured, whereby he soon acquired the name of up his mind to devote his services to Preston's army. Eagle of Doctors, and the only scientificall by a su- Like Preston, he too belonged to Leinster, and it was pereminent degree in that faculty." "This,” says the only natural that the troop3 raised in that province memoir, “ occasioned the nobles and gentry of Leinster should have the benefit of his skill. Accordingly he to appoint him their doctor, paying him an annual marched with Preston to the siege of Duncannon,-the pension according to their respective abilities, and to most brilliant event of that general's Irish campaigns have him at call though by infirmities no way necessi- and assisted at many other actions fought with indifferent tated.”
success under the same leader, each and all of which afHis biographer does not tell us how long this " Eagle forded him ample opportunity for plying his tourniquet, of Doctors' continued in Dublin, nor does he give us probes, amputation saw, and the other resources of leechany reason for supposing that he was ever summoned craft, on the broken heads and limbs of the Leinster army to attend the dyspeptic Strafford, or his successors, Having been upwards of five years surgeon-in-chief to the Wandesforde, Parsons, and Borlase. 'Tis more than Leinster forces, rather indeed through a natural bias of probable, however, that none of those personages would
* Vide Hamilton's Calendar of the State Papers. have allowed the popish doctor, his celebrity as an
+ Vide Mitchel's Life of Hugh O'Neill, p. 125. “ herbalist," "chirurgeon, etc. etc.” notwithstanding, to
I Tyrrell's pass. The action was fought in 1597.