until the restoration of Charles the Second, on which occasion he was made Clerk of the Peace for the county of Cork, and a magistrate, which functions he discharged with integrity and a good name. He thus describes his first feeling of being possessed of healing powers.

"About four years since, I had an impulse which frequently suggested to me that there was bestowed on me the gift of curing the king's evil, which, for the extraor dinariness thereof, I thought fit to conceal for some time; but, at length, I told my wife; for, whether sleeping or waking, I had this impulse; but her reply was, that it was an idle imagination. But, to prove the contrary, one William Maher, of the parish of Lismore, brought his son to my wife, who used to distribute medicines in charity to the neighbours; and my wife came and told me, that I had now an opportunity of trying my impulse, for there was one at hand that had the evil grievously in the eyes, throat, and cheeks; whereupon I laid my hands on the places afflicted, and prayed to God, for Jesus' sake, to heal him. In a few days afterwards, the father brought his son so changed that the eye was almost quite whole; and, to be brief, (to God's glory I speak it) within a month he was perfectly healed, and so continues.”

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He subsequently cured another patient, to the utter astonishment of the physician of the neighbourhood, who said, if he cured that person, he would not question but he might cure all manner of diseases. Accordingly he received an impulse discovering to him that he had the gift of healing in a more extended way, and shortly afterwards 'there came unto me a poor man, with a violent pain in his loins, so that he went almost double, and having also a grievous ulcer in his leg, very black, who desired me, for God's sake, to lay my hands on him; whereupon I put my hands on his loins and flank, and immediately went the pains out of him, so that he was relieved, and could stand upright without trouble; the ulcer also in his leg was healed; so that, in a few days, he returned to his labour as a mason."

Το

It appears that Mr. Greatracks, though in general successful, was not so in all instances, and he attempts to explain the circumstances as follows: "Many demand of me why some are cured and not all? To which question I answer, that God may please to make use of such means, by me, as shall operate according to the dispositions of the patient, and, therefore, cannot be expected to be alike effectual in all. They also demand further of me, why some are cured at once, and not all? and why the pains should fly immediately out of some, and take such ambages in others? and why it should go out of some at their eyes, some at their fingers, some at their ears or mouths? which I say, if all these things could have a plain account given of them, there would be no cause to count them strange. Let them tell me what substance that is which removes and goes out with so great expedition, and it will be more easy to resolve their questions. Some will know of me, why or how I do pursue some pains from place to place till I have chased them out of the body, by laying my hands on the outside of the clothes only (as is usual), and not all pains? To which I answer that-and others have been abundantly satisfied that it is so-though I am not able to give a reason, yet I am apt to believe there are some pains which afflict men after the manner of evil spirits, which kind of pains cannot endure my hand, nay, not my gloves, but fly immediately, though six or eight coats or cloaks be put between the persons and my hand, as at the Lady Ranelagh's, at York House, in London, as well as in Ireland, has been manifested. Now another question will arise, whether the operation of my hand proceeds from the temperature of my body, or from a Divine gift, or from both? To which I say, that I have reason to believe that there is some extraordinary gift of God."

Such being his power and his pretensions, an immense number of people, not only from the adjoining parts of Ireland, but from England, resorted to him; so much so, that he lamented that he could neither follow his own business or enjoy the company of his family and friends. His stables, barus, and other out-houses, were filled with the sick of all sorts of diseases; and he remarks, that it was no small instance of an interposing Providence, that none of his own family were infected by

them, nor did they infect each other. In the meantime, the clergy of the diocese of Waterford took up the matter seriously-we cannot say wisely-and the Dean of Lismore cited him to the Bishop's Court; Where appearing, upon being asked where was his licence for curing, as all physicians ought to have from the Ordinary of the Diocese, he replied, “That though he had no such licence, he knew no law which prohibited any person from doing what good he could to his neighbour." He was, nevertheless, prohibited from laying hands on any for the future. Which WISE order puts us in mind of the similar enactment of the French king against the working of the Jansenist miracles at the tomb of the Abbe Paris, that caused the following epigram to be written :—

"De par Le Roi defense a Dieu
De faire miracles en ce Lieu."!

And which may thus be done into English :—
"Our King commands his God to cease
From working wonders in this place.”

The Ordinary of Lismore had worse success than the King of France, and Greatracks proceeded in his healing, until his fame reached the higher orders in England, and he was entreated to come over to cure the Viscountess Conway, of an obstinate headache; this Greatracks consented to do, merely stipulating that a sum sufficient to bear his expenses should be provided him. On landing in England, it was surprising what crowds followed his footsteps, who in great numbers were healed. Greatracks fairly acknowledges that he did not succeed in relieving the noble patient for whose sake he came : but honoured and munificently treated by Lord Conway, he cured many in the neighbourhood of Ragley, of divers diseases, and from thence was summoned up to London, by his majesty, King Charles II., who was pleased to recommend him to the notice not only of his courtiers but his physicians." In London," says Mr. Greatracks, "I was persuaded to stay, doing daily what the good Lord enabled me, until I met with your lordship (the Hon. Robert Boyle,) who were pleased to be an eye-witness of what I did, and to bring several other learned and worthy persons with you, to bear testimony to the truth of what appeared, and to encourage me to give the account to the world." Mr. Greatracks concludes his narrative as follows:-"Now, whether I have done my duty as a Christian, in employing that talent which God had entrusted me withal, to the good of people distressed and afflicted, or no, judge you and every good man. Thus far I appeal to the world, whether I have taken rewards, deluded or deceived any man. All further I will say is, that I pray I may never be weary of well doing, and that I may be found a faithful servant when I come to give up my last account."

Mr. Greatracks remained in London some time, and resided in Lincolns-Inns' Fields, where he became the wonder of many, and the subject of ridicule to others. Dr. Lloyd, the chaplain of the Charter House, wrote a book against him, entitled, "Wonders no Miracles ;" and it was in answer to this treatise, which was certainly uncharitably severe, that Greatracks wrote his "Brief Account." The wits of Charles's court, made themselves also very merry at his expense. The lively and accomplished Frenchman, St. Evremond, who at that time resided in England, wrote a novel called "The Irish Prophet;" in which he made the people's credibility with respect to Greatracks, the subject of his sarcasm. But fortified by the testimonials of both physicians and divines, he rose superior to his detractors; and a Mr. Love, who had on a former occasion unjustly ridiculed him, stepped forth to assure the world that he was witness to his curing the falling sickness, in a way beyond ordinary credibility; and he says, in a letter to Lord Orrery, "that the Royal Society, and other MODERN PHILOSOPHERS, unable to dispute the fact, found words to define it, and called the strange effects, A sanative contagion in the body, which had an antipathy to some particular diseases, and not to others.'" Indeed, this most learned society has not disdained to hand down to posterity the memorials of this man, for a Mr. Thoresby has, in their Transactions, given some remarkable instances of cures performed by him, and

in particular on his own brother, "who was seized with a violent pain in the head and back; Mr. Greatracks (coming by accident to the house) gave present ease to his head, by only stroaking it with his hands. He then fell to rub his back, which he most complained of; but the pain immediately fled from his hand to his right thigh; then he pursued it with his hand to his knee, from thence to his leg, ankle and foot, and at last to his great toe. As it fell lower it grew more violent, and when in his toe it made him roar out, but upon rubbing it there, it vanished." He also gives another instance of his uncle's daughter, "who was seized when a girl, with a great pain and weakness in her knees, which occasioned a white swelling; this followed her for several years, and having used divers means to no effect, after six or seven years time, Mr. Greatracks coming to Dublin, she was brought to him. He stroaked both her knees, and gave her present ease, the pain flying downwards from his hand, till he drove it out of her toes, and the swelling in a short time wore away and never troubled her after."

I do not find any record of how long Mr. Greatracks remained in England; he was in Dublin in the year 1681, but how long he lived afterwards is uncertain; his family, I believe, is not now resident in the County Waterford. A writer in Blackwood's Magazine, if I recollect aright, says, "that to a Mr. Greatracks, a descendant of his, some have attributed the honour of being the author of Junius's Letters." R. Y.

P.S. A number of certificates of cures follow the treatise of Mr. Greatracks, signed by the most respectable, pious, and learned men in England; amongst which, besides the above-named Robert Boyle, are Bishop Rust; Cudworth, author of the "Intellectual System;" Dr. Whichcot; Dr. Wilkins; Dr. Simon Patrick; the Countess of Devonshire, &c. &c. As one of the best testimonials of the probity and powers of this extraordinary man, it may be well to give, from the Rawdon Papers, the following extract of a letter from Lord Conway to Sir George Rawdon :

"Dear Brother,

morrow,

"I have received yours of the 29th January, but the former letter therein mentioned to have been written to me on your coming to Dublin, is not yet come to my hands. Mr. Greatracks hath been here a fortnight toand my wife is not the better for him; very few others have failed under his hands, of many hundreds that he hath touched in these parts. I must confess that before his arrival, I did not believe the tenth-part of those things which I have been an eye-witness of, and several others of as accurate judgment as any in this kingdom, who are come hither out of curiosity, do acknowledge the truth of his operations. This morning the Bishop of Gloucester recommended to me a prebend's son in his diocese, to be brought to him for a leprosy from head to foot, which hath been judged incurable above ten years, and in my chamber he cured him perfectly; that is, from a moist humor, 'twas immediately dried up, and began to fall off; the itching was quite gone, and the heat of it taken away. The youth was transported to admiration. The dean saw this as well as myself, but it is not the hundredth part, and I am confident at the least of forty that we have seen, among which are many pleasant passages done purposely to satisfy our curiosity and experience. So that I wonder he had not a greater esteem in Ireland; but after all this I am far from thinking them miracles, or that his cures are at all miraculous: but I believe it is by a sanative virtue and a natural efficiency, which extends not to all diseases, but is much more proper and effectual to some than to others, as he doth also dispatch some with a great deal of ease, and others not without a great deal of pains. This inclosed is a letter of his to his wife, which I desire may be sent carefully to her; and as to his, concernments in Ireland, I fear he doth not mind them so well as he ought to do; probably Sir Thomas Stanley may inform you how they stand, and if you can do him any service, I shall take it extremely kindly, for he takes a great deal of pains about my wife, and is very affectionate to do all that lies in his power. I had a letter also from my brother Francis. I am confident Mr. Greatracks would recover him, or the

THE NEW YEAR'S-NIGHT OF AN UNFORTUNATE MAN. (From the Prose of Jean Paul Richter.)

In the lone stillness of the New-year's-night,
An old man at his window stood, and turned
His dull eyes to the firmament, where, bright

And pure, a million rolling planets burned;
Then cast them on the earth, so cold and white;
And felt, that moment, that of all who mourned
And groaned upon its bosom, none there were
With his deep wretchedness and great despair.
For near him lay his grave!-hidden from view,
Not by the flowers of Youth, but by the snows
Of age alone. In torturing thought he flew

Over the past, and on his memory rose That picture of his life which conscience drew, With all its fruits-diseases, sins, and woes-A worn-out frame-a blighted soul-dark years Of agony, remorse, and withering fears! Like spectral things, his bright young days came back, And that cross-road of life where, when a boy, His father placed him first: its right-hand track Leads to a land of glory, peace and joy;

Its left to wildernesses waste and black,

Where snakes and plagues and poisonous blasts destroy. Which had been his? Alas! the serpents hung Coiled round his heart-their venom on his tongue! Sunk in unutterable grief, he cried—

"Come back, my vanished youth! Oh, God! restore
My morn of life! Oh, Father! be my guide,
And let me only choose my path once more!"
But on the wide waste air his ravings died
Away, and all was silent as before.

His youth had glided by, swift as the wave;
His father came not-he was in his grave.
Wild lights flashed flickering by a star was falling;
Down to the miry marsh he saw it rush.

"Like me!" he said, and oh! the thought was galling; And hot and heart-wrung tears began to gush: Sleepwalkers crossed his eyes in shapes appalling;

Huge windmills lifted up their arms to crush-
And skeleton faces rose up from the dim
Depths of the charnel-house, and glared on him!
Amid these overboiling bursts of feeling,

Rich music, heralding the young year's birth,
Rolled from a distant steeple, like the pealing
Of some celestial organ o'er the earth.
Softer emotions o'er him now came stealing;
He felt the soul's unpurchasable worth.
Return!" he cried again, imploringly,

"Oh! my lost youth-return, return to me!"
AND YOUTH RETURNED, and age withdrew its terrors;
Still was he young, for he had dreamed the whole,
But faithful is the image conscience mirrors,
When whirlwind passions darken not the soul.
Alas! too real were his sins and errors,

Too truly had he made this earth his goal :
He wept, and thanked his God that, with the will,
He had the power to choose the right path still.

ABBEY OF DUNGIVEN.

COUNTY OF LONDONDERRY.

The County of Londonderry possesses no ruin equal in interest and importance to the Abbey Church of Dungiven; nor is there, perhaps, in our whole island, an ecclesiastical remain, more remarkable for the romantic beauty and fitness of its situation. It is, indeed, hardly possible to imagine any thing more singularly wild and striking. "Seated upon a bold and projecting rock, 200 feet per

pendicular above the river Roe, here every thing disposes to seriousness and meditation; the grandeur of the mountains, the ascending sound of the torrent beneath, the repose of the place, its seclusion from little things, and the awful monuments of mortality around it-it is a scene which contemplation must love, and devotion may claim as peculiarly her own." These are the words of the Rev. Mr. Ross, in his excellent statistical account of the parish in which these ruins are so interesting a feature-and we can ourselves bear testimony from observation, to the accuracy and truth of his poetical description.

The Church of Dungiven is said to have been founded in the year 1100, by O'Cathan, Prince of Oireacht-uiChathain, who established here an Augustinian convent, and the simplicity of its form, the elegance of its masonry, and the general features of its architecture, correspond with that era. Like all the ancient Irish churches, erected prior to the twelfth century, it consists only of a nave and chancel, separated by a choir arch, or arcus triumphalis, the former of which is 40 feet long by 20 wide, and the latter, 22 feet by 18. This simple structure is however distinguished by a remarkable, and, as regards its situation, unique feature, namely, a belfry placed at the south angle of the west front; and which, though now much delapidated, not long since presented a very interesting variety of the Irish Clocheach, or round tower bell-house-the base of which was square, and formed a portion of the church. The whole structure, which is very much in the Roman style of that age, is chiefly remarkable for the beauty of its workmanship-the stones being all dressed and squared with the chissel, and fitted with evident care and precision. The architectural ornaments are few and simple, the arches are semicircular,

Branston and Wright

and the windows mere loops with sharp angular heads, apparently not intended to receive glass. In the nave or body of the church, however, there are larger windows in the pointed style of architecture, which are evidently additions of a subsequent age. Of the Priory, which was attached to the Church, only the foundations of some of the walls are now visible.

Few circumstances are preserved of the history of Dungiven, except the period of its foundation, and the names of some of its priors. Archdall acquaints us, on the authority of Sir J. Ware's MSS., that the church having been polluted by the effusion of Christian blood, was, with its cemetery, solemnly restored on the 16th of October, 1397, by the Archbishop of Armagh, at the entreaty of the Prior and Convent.

The etymology of the name of Dungiven, has been strangely mistaken both by Mr. Sampson and Mr. Ross, who supposed it to be correctly, "Dun-aobhiun, the pleasant hill"-but its true orthography is Dun-geimhin, pronounced Dun-gevin, which signifies, The Fort of Fetters or Bondage. For this correct etymology of the word, we

405

monuments, which are decorated usually with escutcheons, &c., in no mean style of sculpture, are however, with the exception of one, of little interest-it is an altar tomb, of much architectural beauty, situated on the south side of the chancel, and traditionally known as the monument of a chief of the O'Kane's, of great renown for his opposition to the inroads of the English, and hence called Coo-ey-nagall, or Coo-ey of the foreigners. This hero is represented in armour, in the usual recumbent position, with one hand resting on his sword. On the front of the tomb are figures of six warriors, sculptured in relievo.

The age of this extraordinary monument can be accurately ascertained, though it has escaped the researches of Messrs. Sampson and Ross, as well as of all the other topographers by whom it has been hitherto noticed. The style of its architecture points it unequivocally to the close of the fourteenth century, and the name preserved by tradition as that of the distinguished chief for whom it was erected, is conspicuous in our national annals of that period. This name, which is properly written CU-MAIGHE, but pronounced Coo-ey, signifies a grey-hound of the plain. It was, and as Mr. Sampson states, is still common in the Kane family, and in law matters it is put down Coo-ey, alias Quintin Kane." The Cumaighe or Coo-ey, who was distinguished by the cognomen of na-gall, appears in the pedigrees of the family as the tenth in descent from Cathan, the progenitor of the name, and thirteenth from Fergall, King of Ireland, who was killed in 722, and who was the common ancestor of the O'Kanes and O'Neils.

Clayton,

The Annals of the Four Masters record his capture by the English, at the harbour of Coleraine, in the year 1376, and that he was sent by them to Carrickfergus, to be imprisoned. He did not, however, die in the hands of his captors, as appears from the record of his death given in the same Annals, viz. :

1385. "Cumaighe O'Kane, Lord of Oireacht-ui-Cathain, died at the pinnacle of wealth and celebrity."

This record shows that the tradition of Cuinagal having been treacherously murdered near Limavady, as stated by Mr. Ross, (Par. Surv. p. 393,) is either without foundation, or relates to some other person.

Of the illustrious but unfortunate family of O'Kane, the reader will find some account in our 13th number, p. 103, and we propose treating of it at greater length on a future occasion. Its history is preserved by our annalists with curious exactness, for a period of nearly a thousand years!

P.

THE BEGGARMAN'S TALE.

'Twas varied much with terms of grief, And eke of blood-congealing fear: In sooth it was as strange a tale

As ever dweit on mortal ear."

OLD ENGLISH BALLAD.

Almost all our ancient national customs have entirely fled before the new-light of what is termed modern improvement. Many of those customs which maintained their footing among the peasantry within my own recollection, and I have been moping about the world for the last sixty years, have totally disappeared, and left not a wreck behind. No longer does the thrifty housewife on the eve of the new year, strike the boding oat-meal cake three times on the threshold, proclaiming famine to the Turks! I look, in vain, for the fat sheep which the farmers were accustomed to kill on Michaelmas day. The inmates of the peasant's cabin, are no longer clamorous for the cake and sowins, with boiled sheep's milk, which they were wont to indulge in-on" Patrick's day in the morning," before they went abroad to steep the "chosen leaf" in a drop of the native. The conquering goals, where the "good men and true" of two baronies, contended for the mastery,-these goals by which the spirit, strength, and swiftness of our peasantry, were improved, have gone the way of the rest. The last of our harpers has wept over the departing genius of music and of song; though even yet our ears are regaled by pseudo-bards, who sing of their sounding lyre, and woodland reed, though they never fingered a Jew's-harp, or blew a dhokawn.

It were to be wished that the non-existence of these olden customs only were to be deplored: I fear that a few of our national virtues have likewise disappeared. That love of impartial justice, for which this nation was so celebrated, has, at least in many districts within my own knowledge, evaporated into a love of litigation. And our ancient hospitality which welcomes the stranger to the hearth-which displays upon the board the best the cottage affords which pours the oil and wine of pity into the wounds of the afflicted and houseless; this hospitality has fled to its last refuge, the mountain glens of Connaught and Munster. We, indeed, in modern "tours through Ireland," find frequent mention made of Irish hospitality; but it is such as can be procured at a house of public entertainment, where the degrees of kindness and attention are regulated by the weight of the traveller's purse. Another species of this virtue is found among the upper and middle classes, who receive visitors with "cead mille failthe;" but there may the way-worn traveller, and the houseless child of misfortune, vainly seek admittance-Modern refinement has completely driven the genuine virtue, as Cromwell did our forefathers, from the cultivated country, and the neighbourhood of towns, to seek shelter in " Hell or Connaught."

Among the many, in the wild mountain district where I reside, that maintain the rites of hospitality in the old Irish spirit, is one friend of mine, whose house is the wellknown resort of" all the vagrant train." As I love to observe human nature divested of that veil of insincerity, which a knowledge of the world is apt to fling over the real character, I frequently visit his habitation, and mingle with his guests. In this humble mansion he exercises, rather faintly it is true, all the virtues of an ancient Betagh. Though he cannot boast of the extensive pastures, and numerous herds, which were the indispensable appendages, to a "house of hospitality," yet here may be found lots of pipers, fiddlers, dancing masters, tinkers, pedlars, story-tellers and boccaughs, while mealy potatoes, muskauns of butter, and gallons of butter-milk, with an occasional piece of beef or pork, are dealt round to the various guests with unsparing profusion. If my reader wants occular demonstration of the truth of this relation, he has only to pass, on foot, along the road from Newmarket to Castleisland, and any stroller he meets with at the Lighthouse, will point out the borheen to Daniel Mullowney's at Glanalougha.

Seated, one evening, in Daniel Mullowney's great oak chair, my shoes off, and my heels neatly placed on a square deal board, as is the wont of Daniel to treat those whom he "delighteth to honour," the exclamation of

"Let us

praise Jesus Christ," and the loud clatter of an iron-shod wattle, announced the arrival of Darby Guiry, the BallyVoorny beggarman. Darby belonged to that class of sturdy beggars called boccaughs; his tribute, as he termed it, was oat-meal, butter, wool, and flax. Few refused to bestow the wonted donation, but he took care to leave his best benefactors beads, which if not made of the true wood of the cross, were, at least, of the same species of timber, crucifixes procured at Lough-derg-and holy pictures of the blessed Gobnate, patroness of Bally voorny. "God bless the house an' all that's there! I hope the maister an' mistress, an' all's well since I saw yees last," said Darby, entering.

"All well, thank you, Darby. Throw off thim bags, an' tell us the news you brought."

"In troth, 'tis I myself that's never without a story-and at a pinch I 'vint one, having always the fear of what happened to poor Mary Moylan before my eyes."

Darby took his seat in the chimney corner, on a stone bench, neatly covered with a rush mat. On our expressing a wish to hear Mary Moylan's tale, he thus began :—

"Some time agone, there lived in Ballyvoorny a tailor, a sinsible, dacent young man he was, they say; and whin he had a thrifle o'money saved to begin house-keeping, he married Mary Roche, as purty an' tidy a girl as you'd get at a fair, an' that's a great word; she was an honest mother's daughter too by all accounts. By good management, an' hard industry, Paddy Moylan, for that was the tailor's name, at the end of seven years, saw himself the owner of a snug bit o' land, where he kept three cows an' four sheep of his own. He had, moreover, three journeymen, and two 'prentice boys, an' the work o' the entire parish. He was famous, besides, for erribs and sich things, for his mother, they say, was an Ulsther woman; howsever, 'tis sartin, he could restore bewitched butther, an' cure animals over-looked by the evil eye. Some say he saw the Good People reg'lar, at any rate, his name was so high among the neighbours, that Jack Maunsel, the fairy man, was'nt a patch upon him.

"It's an' ould saying, an' a thrue, that a man's life is like an April day, full of changes. Two bad saysins put Paddy Moylan to the pin of his collar. The corn crop was blasted; an' the cattle, God bless us! died mad. Many's the collough shook her head 'an said that Paddy's cures did'nt serve him. The next summer came wet, an the praties failed in the ground. Then came the procther hawking afther his tithes; but the landlord's agint, bad luck to his breed! though Paddy gev him a purty kir-embrogue-ey at taking the ground, kim, an' as Paddy could'nt clear up the rint, turned Mary an' the childer out on the belly of the road, and the sorrow a pratie, nor a shelter did he lave the crathers at all at all. Well, an honest neighbour give thim lave to be in his cabin. But the customers went like every thing else, the journeymen thramped elsewhere, and the 'printice boys took up their indenthurs : no pratie could be had for love or money; the male was mighty dear, and not a keenogue had Paddy Moylan, though the grawls war crying for food.

"As the poor man ris, one morning, from his cowld sop o' straw in the corner, instead of the warm bed he was used to, to look out for a job among the neighbours, says Mary to him, says she, Paddy, a-cushla, I'll go yonder, bine-by, for a piece of Denis Flyn's cow that died yester day; 'twill make a drop o' broth a-gragal; an' the childer nor ourselves had'nt this many a day the wetting of our hearts. Mary aroon,' said he, I seen the mate yesterday, 'tis as black as the hob, and as tough as the gad of a flail. Fough, Mary! sure you would'nt think of ating a baste that had'nt the blood drawn. I'm going, asthore, to see to do something for yees; but Mary, bring home no part of Denis Flyn's cow, or you may be sorry for it.'

"In the coorse o' the day, when Mary Moylan's crathers began to ask their mammy for something to eat, her heart fell down to hear her weeny things crying: 'hould,' says she, 'ye poor hungry garkighs, (unfledged birds) an' the holy mother, an' blessed Gobnate will assist yees.' She crossed over to Denis Flyn's, but God bless us! the cow was gone all but the head, and she brought that home to make a dhrink o' broth for the childer; and it was nearly boiled when her husband kim home in the evening. You'll