There was a forge in the garden near where I live. The man who owned it was named John Casey and he had a big family of boys and girls. There was one of his children when very young fell on a hot griddle, and she was so badly burned, that she died from the effects of it. All the rest of the children as they grew up went away to different countries to earn a living. All the people around the neighbourhood used to bring their horses and donkeys to be shod and ploughs and carts to be fixed. The fafter worked in the forge for many years after the family had scattered. Then he got old and was not able to work at the trade any longer. He and his wife went into the town to live in a small little house, they died soon afterwards. There was no one then left to work in the forge and it fell into ruins. It is over fifty years since that forge was there.