Incidentally, one of her poems has the theme of Paddy �the giant� Murphy from Killowen, who was famous all over Ireland and Europe. Alice Kelly�s grandmother, Sarah Linden, described how, as a teenager, she worked at the Rostrevor Hotel in 1855. Paddy Murphy would call and help the staff with heavy chores. On leaving, he would lift Sarah on to a table, so that she could adjust his tie, brush his coat and fix his hat.

Invited by Dublin Corporation to appear at an exhibition in the capital, the eight-foot-tall Paddy declined on the grounds that he �wouldn�t want Irish people paying good money to see another Irishman.

However, the landlord served notice on Paddy Murphy to quit the tenancy of his house and land. So he departed from his home and farm, his beloved Mourne country, relatives and friends, going to Liverpool. In that city on the Mersey, he stayed with a great granduncle of Alice Kelly, who owned a pub. The door had to be raised, a special single bed installed, and a high seat provided at the bar.

Joining a circus, Paddy toured England and the continent, drawing huge crowds. But at the French port of Marseilles he caught smallpox and died. Friends brought his embalmed body back to his native parish, where he was buried near St Bronagh in Kilbroney cemetery. The granite Celtic cross over the grave is the same height as the famous giant.

Another legendary character, who was born above the Fairy Glen at Rostrevor, was the late Minnie �the Caddie� Caulfield, a renowned fortune-teller. Her home attracted crowds of people from all arts and parts, sometimes to have the cups �read,� or to hear her reminiscences about the �good old days.�

Women around Rostrevor used to work in the flax-fields. But wages were so low that some of the younger ones, like Minnie, emigrated to England in search of better-paid employment. She arrived at Euston Station in London, after travelling by cattle-boat from Greenore to Holyhead, and then by train to the capital.

Clutching her bag, dazed and bewildered by the tumult of that immense rail terminus, she was already homesick. However, her cousin, Katie Magee, soon appeared and took her to Kensington, where she was fixed up with a job as kitchen-maid. On days off, she would go to Kensington Gardens and listen to the band.

Then came a telegram from Rostrevor, stating: �Come home at once; no hope for Jamie.� Her brother had suffered serious injuries to his leg, while employed on the construction of the Silent Valley Reservoir in the Mournes.

But by the time Minnie had reached home, Jamie had died of lockjaw at Daisyhill Hospital in Newry. And though she returned to London, eventually she came back to Rostrevor, and got a job as cook in the Kilbroney Hotel, later the Great Northern, demolished by an IRA bomb in the 70�s.

Minnie started �walking out� with James Doyle, to whom her father took an instant dislike. This may have been because she was the only person at home after her mother died. However, one day in September 1941, they were married in the Star of the Sea Church at Rostrevor. The wedding breakfast was held at the Cloughmore Hotel, where the Parochial Hall was later located. When the newly-weds returned after a brief honeymoon in Newcastle, James Doyle headed for England, where he got a job in a glass-foundry.

Still living at home with her father, Minnie took up �cup-reading,� in the hope that people coming and going would keep him occupied. A baby was born, but died 20 minutes later. As the mother later commented: �There wasn�t the same attention in those days, that you would get now, - and I was crucified, carrying sticks on my back.�

In later years, author W. J. Hanna described a visit to the ceili-house, which had become a bye-word for laughter and good craic. Minnie was now �stooped with the years, but as bright and enthusiastic as ever, sitting on a low chair, on one side of a big open grate. She would read the tea-leaves from a cup. The oil-lamp burned on a window-ledge, lighting up the faces of visitors, gathered around the open turf fire. Three clocks ticked, while a crucifix and a picture of the Penal times hung on the wall.�

When asked where the nickname of Minnie �the Caddie,� had come from, she explained that, �when my father, James Caulfield, was alive, he used to run cadging (begging) about the road. People would shout: `catch that aul caddie.� That�s how I got the name. We couldn�t afford the price of a bag of coal in those days. Then my father went to America in search of work, and got his leg blown off when he was sand-blasting in Idaho.�

But Minnie also recalled �great nights, when we would get musicians up to the house, - Hughie Fegan on the fiddle, Charlie McDonald from Newry on the bagpipes, and Johnney Mulholland with his melodeon. Dan McGivern and Paddy Mulholland would join in, dancing with clogs on.

Finally. Minnie reported: �The good nuns told me never to worry. Whenever you give up your cottage, there�s always a wee bed for you in the convent.�

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