The following singular inscription was formerly to be seen over the west gate:

"From the fury of the O'Flaherties
Good Lord deliver us."

Owing to its excellent situation, Galway enjoyed for centuries the monopoly of the trade with Spain, whence it received large quantities of wine, salt, etc., which caused so much personal intercourse that the town became impressed to a certain degree with Spanish features, both in the architecture of the streets and in the dress and manners of the population; though it has been, nevertheless, the habit of former writers to ascribe too much to the supposed Spanish origin of the town, overlooking the fact that it was inhabited by an essentially Anglo-Norman colony.

The first charter of incorporation was granted by Richard II., and confirmed in successive reigns down to that of Charles II. That of Richard III. excluded McWilliam Burke and his heirs from all rule and power in Galway; and the charter of Elizabeth made the mayor Admiral of Galway and the bay, including the Aran Islands. Galway reached its highest point of opulence at the commencement of the Irish rebellion of 1641, during which period it was remarkable for its loyalty to the king. It was surrendered to Ludlow in 1652, having suffered a siege and such barbarous treatment at the hands of the Parliamentary army that at the Restoration the town was almost wholly decayed. From a map made in 1651 by the Marquis of Clanricarde to ascertain the extent and value of the town, it appears that Galway was then entirely surrounded by walls, defended by fourteen towers, and entered by as many gates.

On July 19, 1691, a week after the battle of Aughrim, Ginkell with fourteen thousand men laid siege to it. Two days later the town surrendered, the garrison being permitted to evacuate it with a safe-conduct to Limerick and a pardon to the inhabitants.

Since the middle of the last century, the fortifications have gone fast to decay, and now nothing remains but a fragment near the quay and a massive archway leading to Spanish Place. There is also a square bastion of great thickness in Francis Street, and a portion of wall with a round-headed, blocked arch. Within the last century the town has so much increased as to cover more than double the space formerly occupied within the walls. Some of the houses are built Spanish fashion, with a small court in the centre and an arched gateway leading into the street. The most striking specimen of domestic architecture is Lynch's Mansion, a large, square building at the corner of Shop and Abbeygate streets, having square-headed doorways and windows, with richly decorated mouldings and drip-stones. There is also a portion of the cornice or projecting balustrade at the top of the house, the horizontal supporting pillars being terminated with grotesque heads. On the street face are richly ornamented medallions bearing the arms of the Lynches, with their crest, a lynx. This castle has more gargoyles and coats-of-arms carved upon it than ever Mr. Carnegie can hope to cut on the battlements of Skiebo. I was going to say, the Lynches had carvings "to burn," but, considering the incombustible nature of these ornamentations, the phrase would perhaps be inappropriate. The family of Lynch, one of the most celebrated in Galway annals, is said to have originally come from Linz, in Austria, of which town one of them was governor during a siege. As a reward for his services, he received permission to take a lynx as a crest. The family came to Ireland in the thirteenth century, and flourished there till the middle of the seventeenth. In 1484 Pierce Lynch was made first mayor under the new charter of Richard III., while his son Stephen was appointed first warden by Innocent VIII., and, during a period of a hundred and sixty-nine years, eighty-four members of this family were mayors; altogether the Lynches were great people in Galway. In Market Street, at the back of St. Nicholas's Church, is the "Lynch Stone," bearing the following inscription:

"This memorial of the stern and unbending justice of the chief magistrate of this city, James Lynch Fitzstephen, elected mayor A.D. 1493, who condemned and executed his own guilty son, Walter, on this spot, has been restored to its ancient site."

Below this is a stone with a skull and cross-bones, and this inscription:

"1524
Remember Deathe Vaniti of Vaniti and al is but
Vaniti."

James Lynch Fitzstephen had been one of the most successful of the citizens in promoting commerce with Spain, which he had himself personally visited, having been received with every mark of hospitality. To make some return for all this kindness, he proposed and obtained permission from his Spanish host to take his only son back with him to Ireland. The mayor had also an only son, unfortunately addicted to evil company, but who, he hoped, was likely to reform, from the circumstance of his being attached to a Galway lady of good family. And so it might have proved had he not jealously fancied that the lady looked too graciously upon the Spaniard. Roused to madness, he watched the latter out of the house, stabbed him, and then, stung with remorse, gave himself up to justice, to his father's unutterable dismay. Notwithstanding the entreaties of the town folk, with whom the youth was a favorite, the stern parent passed sentence of death, and actually hanged him from the window with his own hand.