old established bakery, Miss Magan always got her bank-notes changed; but, fearful of being waylaid between the covered car she occupied, and the door at which it stopped, Miss Flanagan was always obliged to get into the vehicle and place in the hands of its shrinking occupant the metallic equivalent for the crisp new note. Some arrears of rent had accumulated at the time of Miss Magan's death, and a term of years in the lease remained unexpired; but her property was so left that the landlord's claim could not be satisfied. The house was in such a ruined state that the landlord, Colonel King, was glad to accept half the former rent. Although an extremely old house, only one tenant, Archbishop Carpenter,[365] occupied it before Magan. In its back parlour had been ordained Dean Lube and many other old priests well known in Dublin during the struggle for Catholic Emancipation; and so searchingly severe was the operation of penal law, that students for ordination had to be smuggled into the Archbishop's house by the stable in Island Street, afterwards turned to ignoble purposes. An altar stood in a recess of this parlour, which the Magans changed into a cupboard. William Allingham would seem to have had the house in his eye when, some years later, he wrote:-- Outside, the old plaster, all spatter and stain, Looked spotty in sunshine and streaky in rain; The window-sills sprouted with mildewy grass, And the panes from being broken were known to be glass. Within there were carpets and cushions of dust; The wood was half rot, and the metal half rust; Old curtains--half cobwebs--hung grimly aloof: 'Twas a spider's Elysium from cellar to roof. But they pried not upstairs, through the dust and the gloom, Nor peeped at the door of the wonderful room That gossips made much of, in accents subdued, But whose inside no mortal might brag to have viewed. Full forty years since turned the key in that door: 'Tis a room deaf and dumb 'mid the city's uproar. The guests, for whose joyance that table was spread,[366] May now enter as ghosts, for they're every one dead.