Her story was told by a Sergeant of Police, and formed a painful illustration of the poteen trade in the mountains. In the year 1850, while the country was still suffering from the effects of the "starving time," she lived with her husband, Michael O’Malley, and four sons, on a little farm near Lake Derryclare. Year after year had the crops failed, but the little family held together, faring, or rather starving, alike. In the year mentioned, although the country in general was beginning to recover from the famine, this part of Connemara was still stricken, and the crop seemed likely again to fail. Starvation stared the hapless family in the face. The boys were well grown lads, accustomed to the hard life of peasants, and willing to work if any could be found. All four left home, the eldest going to Galway, the other three to the sea-shore, where they found temporary employment in the fisheries. While so engaged, they learned the secrets of the illicit distiller, and having, in course of time, managed to procure a small still, they returned home with it, and as the cabin was in a secluded quarter of a little frequented district, they persuaded the old man to engage in the enterprise with them. The risk of detection appeared so small, especially when compared with the profits, that against the prayers and entreaties of the woman, the still was set up in a retired spot near by and the manufacture of the poteen begun in as large quantities as their limited resources would allow. A number of years passed, and, as their product found a ready sale in the neighborhood, the O’Malleys prospered as they had never done before, the boys married, and families grew around them.