Inverbrena 2003 by Flixx Graphics

•• A note on “Inverbrena”.

The name first appears in the Annals of the Four Masters as “Inver Brena” the mouth of the Bren river and identifies the narrow neck of water through which the tide rushes into Loch Cuan.

Chairman’s Note.

We are now in the 21st century and on reflection what great changes have occurred in that period. The world war spawned a revolution for our civilisation and the old customs, ways of life, characters and sayings will all be obliterated, if we are not careful, by the hurly burly of modern day life with today’s overwhelming technology obliterating yesterday’s achievements. “Today” is our only opportunity to record our yesterdays for posterity and our members have once again delved into the past in their own memories and just as important the memories of the public who have made many contributions to this book. If we don’t record these items they may and will be, lost for ever. There is still a lot of material in our countryside uncovered and waiting for discover; if you don’t want to write it down yourself; tell to someone who will. Now I will detain you no longer and let you get on with reading this year’s publication and if it “jogs” more memories our efforts will not have been in vain. Regretfully, I wish to record the sudden death of a very promising member, Seamus Savage who with his wife Maureen, joined us recently. Our deepest sympathy to the family.

Willie Crea, Chairman.

“For the olden memories fast are flying from us Oh! that some kind hand would come And bind them in a garland e’re the present hardens And the past grows cold and dumb.” Anon

Cover pic: Punts assembling for the start of a race in 1947 From the left to right - Pat Swail’s “Star of the Sea” fitted with splashboards The Rev Larmour’s punt (No.5) and the “Barracuda” (No.14) owned by Hugh Tweedie and Johnny McDonnell. The original car ferry the “Malcolm” docked at the slip and Tommy Quail’s ferryboat the “Jennie” on her mooring in the background.

Contents

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Recollections of Sailboat Racing in Strangford............................. Bobby Magee

The Race (poem)................................................................... Imelda Fitzsimons

Strangford Port.................................................................................Peig Denvir

Isle o’ Valla - The Charter School...........................................Eamon McMullan

A Country Shop...................................................................... Mena McKeating

The Womens’ Institute 1983-2003................................................... Pieg Denvir

Articles on “Home Words”............................................................. Isobel Magee

The Legend of the Castlemahon Flat Stone.................................... Isobel Magee

The Strange Powers of Frank Kane and Vincent Curran.................... Willie Crea

Recording of Local Place Names.................................................. Alan Johnston

The McKibbens in New Zealand........................... Ronnie & Rhoma Buchanan

Danes and Norsemen..................................................................... Isobel Magee

The Labourers’ Cottages in Lecale C 1900............Sheila Campbell Cunningham

Una Burnett records some of her memories on tape....................... Una Burnett

Nostalgic Memories of Christmas .....................................................P.J. Lennon

Acknowledgments The editors Peig Denvir and Eleanor McGurnaghan wish to thank; All members of our group and the people of the area who compiled or submited the articles for this issue. Damian McKee and staff of Flixx Graphics for their pleasent helpfulness at all times. Down County Council Community Relations Section.

•  • Recollections of Sailboat Racing in Strangford by Bobby Magee

The Punts

Part 1 On a Saturday evening in late July 1946 I wandered down to the quay to find a sailing race in progress and although I missed the start of the this race I became enthralled as the race progressed. So much was I captivated about this event that I was hooked on the sport of sailing and it has remained with me for over fifty years. I recall that it was one of those perfect days for sailing with wind strength of Force 2/3, the tide on the flood approaching high water and the sun shining at its best. I am not sure who organised the race, it might have been a race postponed from the Regatta as members of the Regatta Committee were on duty on the Quay, namely Frank McCausland who was starter/gunman, Major Armstrong performed the duty of timekeeper, other members of the shore party included Master McMullan, Ivan Burke and Johnny Travers. The boats that took part in that historic race were “Star of the Sea” a 15’ Murnin built punt owned by Pat Swail and sailed by John McCausland, the “Unknown” a 15’ craft constructed and owned by Nicky Curran and sailed by Tommy McKeating, the legendry one legged boatman from Portaferry. Others included the “Little Flower” which was a 16’ punt built and owned by Christy Breen and sailed by Tommy Fitzsimmons. I cannot recall the names of the remaining punts but the other details were a 15’ craft owned by the Mullan family from Portaferry and helmed by Tommy (TaHey) Mullan, a 15’ varnished boat built by William Conway from Strangford owned by Joe Traynor and sailed by Malachy Rodgers. A 15’ punt from the local Murnin boatyard, which was painted white, was owned by Pat Swail and skippered by Joe Breen. A 14’ punt also sporting a varnished finish created and sailed by Hugh Tweedie and owned by Rev Larmour of Portaferry and finally a small 14’ built by James Swail from Castleward, owned by his brother John and sailed by Pat Swail, grandfather of Joe Swail the top snooker player. During the race many place changes occurred but in the main the race was dominated by the “Unknown” and the “Star of the Sea” with John McCausland at the helm, not too far away. On the final leg of the course the wind eased and the tide began to ebb between the Quay and Swan Island and the punts bunched up. Tommy Mullan and Tommy Fitzsimmons gained ground on the leading boats by staying to the Portaferry Shore longer. The last 50 yards to the finish line which was between the lamppost on the Quay and the Island pillar, was very slow but exciting. The “Star of the Sea” was to leeward along the Island Shore in the slacker tide, the “Unknown” was to windward but in the stronger tide. Then Tommy Mullan picked up a friendly puff and got to weather of Tommy McKeating but the finishing line came too soon to take full advantage of his good fortune. Meanwhile when the “Unknown” was covered by the third boat, the “Star of the Sea” inched to the front and won by about 2 feet with Tommy McKeating holding on to second by about the same distance. Quite a cheer greeted the winning Strangford boat from the large group of spectators who had gathered on the Quay and calls for a repeat race were the order of the day. The buzz of excitement continued into the next day and the following week. I remember being outside Mrs Fitzsimmons’ shop when the Sunday papers came in on the 11.30 bus from Downpatrick. This was the focal point and a meeting place where 3

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sport, politics and gossip of the week were debated. The main topic that Sunday morning was the punt race of the previous day and Frank McCausland suggested that a series of races be organised and a cup be obtained for a prize. With the enthusiasm at fever pitch another race was arranged but the weather and tidal conditions combined to give a very fluky race with Malachy Rodgers sailing the William Conway built craft to victory by the width of the river. William was over the moon at the success and duly celebrated. Racing continued with a couple of races before the end of the season and Portaferry (Cook St) held a further two races which started from Cook St. slip. For these impromptu races, rigging, sails and steering gear were scavenged from far and near, some of which had come from punts that had raced pre-war, the names of which I heard talked about included “Star of the Sea”, “Anna”, “New Design”, “Fan Tan” and “Ninrum” (Murnin spelt backwards). Working sails had to be enlarged to racing sizes, mostly with parachute and target cloth, both of which were in abundant supply due to the close proximity of the RAF Training Squadron based at Bishopscourt. History tells me (an eleven year old schoolboy could not be party to such far reaching proposals) talks were taking place to form a club and so on 12 September 1946 at a meeting in the Cuan Hall the Club was duly founded. The first Commodore was Sholto Cooke who lived at Ferry Quarter with Senan Sharvin as Vice-Commodore, Ivan Burke was Secretary and Alex Henderson from Castleward was Treasurer. In addition to the flag officers above, committee members representing the three participating districts of the Club, namely Strangford, Castleward and Kilclief attended. It was quite a large committee and included Tommy Fitzsimmons, Pat Swail, Fred Farrow, Hedley Quayle, Joe Breen, Paddy Beattie and Johnny McDonnell from Strangford. The Swails (Earnest, John and James) and Willie Johnston were the Castleward delegates, while Willie Swail, Bill Fitzsimmons, Christy Breen and Pat Breen represented Kilclief. The name of the Club agreed on was Strangford Sailing and Rowing Club. Rowing was a big part of pre-war Regattas and the tradition was carried on by a lot of the potential membership. The Club was distinct from the Regatta Committee although some were members of both organisations. With arrangements on a more formal base, rules were essential for the smooth running of the fledgling club. The punt, of course, was elected as the class boat. The maximum length was to be 15 feet length overall but a tolerance of six inches would be accepted. A boat measuring 15’7” would be a sixteen-foot punt. These measurements accommodated all but one of the existing fleet so to comply with the rule, Christy Breen duly reduced the length of the “Little Flower” by one foot. The rig was to be the traditional punt arrangement with a single sail of unlimited measurements. A fin (a flat steel plate attached with brackets to the keel) to assist the punts to beat to windward was to be fitted. Punts fitted with centreboards had to have them permanently locked and sealed in the down position throughout the length of the race. The boats were primarily built for rowing and therefore had a low freeboard and being open boats splashboards were permitted to help keep water where it belonged, in the Lough and not in the boat. A practice in the early punt races, which was later banned, was to carry bags of gravel as ballast in fresh breeze conditions and to deposit the bags in Davy Jones’ Locker at the end of the last beat or if the wind eased. I remember a debate at the top of the slip on the merits of ballast versus an additional crew member. Pat Swail said “the stones did 4

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what you told them to do and stayed in the bottom of the boat while the additional crew would move about and think of self preservation if the going got tough” Meanwhile a club was formed at Cook Street (Portaferry) A meeting to discuss matters common to both sides of the River took place and at the meeting it was agreed to adopt the Strangford Rules for the specification of the boats. It was also decided that each boat should have a number on the sail and that the Strangford boats should have even numbers and the odd numbers be assigned to the Portaferry based boats. Racing to take place on alternate Saturdays at Strangford and Cook Street at 6 o’clock. In those days a lot of workers did not stop work until 3 o’clock on Saturdays. The newborn club required finance in addition to the membership fee, which I think, was about 5 shillings; I know that when I formally joined the club around 1950 that was what I paid. Dances were organised in the Cuan Hall kindly loaned by the Sharvin Family and in the Granary in Castleward freely provided by Lord and Lady Bangor. These were great social occasions which sometimes led to many happy marriages and were enjoyed by all and provided the necessary funds to get the club on a solid financial footing. It was arranged that racing would commence on the first Saturday in May 1947. The Committee decided to buy a cup to be awarded to the overall winner of the Strangford Series of races. One race was to be held in Castleward and one in Kilclief. One Saturday three members went to Belfast on the bus to make the purchase and their choice was an elegant trophy which would rival the FA Cup or other prestigious sporting prizes. The cup cost £21 and 10 shillings and was called “The Swan Island Cup” and could be won outright by the boat winning the series three years in succession. The points system used was three points for a win, two for second, and one for third, with one point being awarded for starting in a race and one point for finishing. This was to encourage The writer finally gets his starters and for boats to continue even hands on the legandry when their chances of a place were “Swan Island Cup” at gone. A win was therefore worth five Strangford Sailing Club’s points, second – four, third – three. Golden Jubilee exhibition in The Secretary, Ivan Burke, had the 1996. safe keeping of the Cup until the Pat Swail’s punt is on display winner was awarded the following in the background. September. I first saw the trophy when my classmate, Ralph Burke, 5

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invited me to his house after school on the Monday and I dreamt and prayed that one day I would win a cup like it. When the 1947 season started some changes in the fleet had taken place. Joe Breen had obtained the use of Sholto Cooke’s Murnin built, the “Swallow”. This was the punt that the Murnin Family built for the Stella Maris new church building fund. Hugh Tweedie built a nice 15’ punt named the Barracuda for Johnny McDonnell with the builder at the helm. This boat was allocated No. 14 and equipped with a good wellproportioned sail made by McKenzie from the Clyde. John Waterson, the official Pilot for Strangford Lough, took over as skipper of Rev Larmour’s punt. Pat Swail sailed his own “Star of the Sea”. James (Cordie) Mullan was recruited to helm the “Little Flower”. Bobby Mullan changed places with his brother Tommy in the Family boat. John Fitzsimmons sailed John Swail’s boat when at home on leave from the Royal Navy. Malachy Rodgers and Tommy McKeating continued to sail their 1946 craft while John Fitzsimmons, on occasions, would sail Ernest Swail’s “Saucy Sue”.

Punts just after the start of the 1956 Regatta L-R “Wanderer” “Sharfit” “New Design” Marie Bawn” “Patricia” “Barracuda” The season was a great success, with Pat Swail winning “The Swan Island Cup” for the first time and the “Barracuda” winning the Portaferry Series. The next couple of years continued much the same as 1947. Pat Swail won “The Swan Island Cup” for the third time in succession in 1949 and was declared the outright winner. The cup is cared for in pristine condition by the Swail family. A new boat was superbly built by master craftsman Nicky Curran for Pat Breen. 6

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The “Unknown” stopped sailing and Tommy McKeating sailed the new boat but she was a disappointment under sail and was later sold to Christy Swail for lobster fishing. When this boat arrived the first night at Strangford slip someone (I think it was Vincent Sharvin) enquired the name of the boat and Tommy McKeating jokingly replied it was the “New Look” – the name of the ladies fashion vogue of the time and the name stuck. In the early fifties punt racing suffered a decline but with coaxing from Joe Breen, a fleet was assembled for the Regattas. By 1954 fortunes were on the up again. Joe Breen had a new boat built by James

A windward start for the punts between the Quay and Swan Island. Note the big sails used by some of the punts. (J) Swail of Castleward and was very successful in the hands of Tommy McKeating. Malachy Rodgers purchased the “Barracuda”. Pat Breen, after failing to purchase “Anna” from Frank McCausland, located the former McCausland owned “New Design” in a field near Comber and brought the successful Murnin creation back home and although measuring 16’ she was reduced in length to meet the Club rules. Two other Murnin built boats were purchased and joined the fleet. Willie John Mullan and Willie Swail found a yellow painted punt and named it “Patrica”. Brendan Sharvin and John Fitzsimmons got their craft from Martin Nicholson in Killyleagh and renamed it “Sharfit”. Peter Tomelty commissioned Hugh Tweedie to build the “Marie Bawn”. George McDonnell had a Murnin built boat called “Imelda” and she was brought into service using the rig from the “Star of the Sea”, a boat with similar looks and measurements. Pat Swail was the helmsman. Pat required his own boat for his day job at the creels. Nicky Cooke sailed the “Swallow” when home on holidays from college. The fleet was completed by a Bernard Mullan self-built punt named “St. Theresa”. This was a very prosperous period for the punts. Flag officers of the Club at this time included Senan Sharvin as Commodore, Joe Polly as the Secretary and Willie John Mullan as Treasurer. The introduction of younger crewmembers gave back the enthusiasm of 1947. In the 1940’s it seemed that anyone under 40 would not have enough experience 7

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to crew a punt and a helmsman would have to have celebrated his half-century – the youth knocked that theory on its head! All the racing at this time was started from Strangford and as the original ‘Swan Island Cup’ was won outright, the Sharvin family presented the “Cuan Cup” as a replacement. Racing was very keen with some close finishes, some punts had narrow beams such as “Sharfit” and were light weather flyers, but overall the broader beamed boats came out on top. The two outstanding boats were owned by the brothers Breen, Pat’s “New Design” and Joe’s “Wanderer”. The “Cuan Cup” like the ‘Swan Island Cup’ was won outright in 1954, 55 and 56, this time by the “New Design” sailed mostly by John Watterson. I was curious why Joe called his boat “Wanderer”. I thought Joe, being a big Country and Western fan, had got the name from the ballad “Under a Wandering Star” but when I asked Joe I discovered that it came from a more divine inspiration. The last two lines of the first verse of the hymn “Hail Queen of Heaven” which goes “Mother of Christ, Star of the Sea pray for the Wanderer, pray for me” and as there was already a “Star of the Sea” he called his pride and joy “Wanderer”. Up to the 1964 revival I would have watched virtually every race from the shore and been present when alterations would be made to the trim of the punts e.g. repositioning the fin or altering the rake of the mast to give the right feel to the helmsman. Then, at the start of the season I was lucky to get a place in the crew of the “New Design”. We operated what would now be called, in football terms, a squad system. Other members, in addition to helmsman John Watterson, were Malachy Polly, Bernard Breen, Pat Breen and Joe Polly and were used as required by the wind strength and availability due to work commitments and we enjoyed our share of success including winning the “Cuan Cup” and the “Wilson Cup” at Portaferry Regatta. As the 1950’s season progressed, a win at all costs syndrome crept into the racing. If a boat lost a race one Saturday you would simply come back for the next race with a bigger sail. Some boats ended up with sails from a class of heavy 18’ centreboard boats, which were popular in the 1930’s. In fact Senan Sharvin owned a very successful Murnin built craft of this class called the “Stella Maris”. Most of these boats had migrated to Kircubbin and had stopped racing with the introduction of the Flying Fifteen as the Club boat. John Watterson obtained a mainsail from the “Hazel” for the “New Design”. Joe Breen borrowed the sail of the “Joey Elizabeth” from Joe Gagen to power the “Wanderer”. These were big sails and the punts were clearly over canvassed and as the boats were not fitted with buoyancy tanks nor was it the practice to wear personal life jackets, anxiety spread in the Club and the villages that a tragedy was waiting to happen. Thank God it did not. The punts were steeped in tradition with their clinker construction, gaff/gunter sail and the technique of the helmsman and crew. To change such a powerful inheritance and custom would have required the diplomacy of the highest order, but sadly it was not available and the demise of the punts had regrettably started. Some people were thinking a new approach would help sailing to survive. A new set of rules was suggested but was opposed by the traditionalists and that was that. During the 10/12 years the punts were racing, great enjoyment was given to the owners, crews and the supporters who faithfully gathered on the Quay season after season Personalities such as Pat Swail, Tommy McKeating, Hugh Tweedie, Tommy Hutton and John Watterson gained an everlasting place in local folklore but to me the man of the punts was Joe Breen. He was always there from the first race to the last and his 8

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quiet diplomacy averted many disputes and his enthusiasm and love of the punts held the Club together when times were looking bleak. The next option was to find a class of boats to suit the local conditions but that is for another day.

The Race

by Imelda Fitzsimons There are sailing boats anchored along by the quay Bobbing up and down by the movement of the sea. Some have just raced around the Lough In calming waters, sometimes turning rough. Those yachtsmen who love the feel of the sail Spend many hours with brush and pail And oil and wax and polish as well So that their boat can meet the swell. For whenever those sea breezes blow And catch the sails, watch how they flow In sunshine and showers or overcast sky, For life it seems goes drifting by. There have always been races on the water; Rowing punts, wychtcraft, fifteens the latter While those who could only stand and cheer Often longed to buy – if not so dear. It’s lovely to see when they set off together To race round the buoy in all kinds of weather, The rivalry between the various crew Like double-dutch to me and you. And though we don’t have yachts of our own As we stand and watch, cheer or moan When we see a face with a cheeky grin First past the line – what a win! They’ll come ashore and relive what they’ve done How they reached the buoy and got the gun Took the prize and been the one For the fastest time and the race they just won.

•  • Strangford Port The following “snippet” was found in a late 50’s issue of the Down Recorder and Bobby Magee has a relevant story. For many years in the past the rural port of Strangford has been mainly associated with the loading of potatoes and the unloading of coal. However we have seen within the past nine months many varied cargoes. Late last summer we saw the unusual cargo of hides being unloaded in the company of lumbers and recently the M.V Michael Sweden of Rotterdam arrived from Pool with an assorted cargo of pipes for use in the sewage scheme in progress in the Downpatrick area. The Strangford branch of Messers W&A McMullan under the management of Mr H. McAfee was in control of the discharging of the ship. At the moment the loading question in the village is “What next? Who knows. Maybe” shrimps boats” a comin.!”

The Hide Boat

as remembered by Bobby Magee The ocean going cargo ship the SS Lassell went aground on the North Rock off Cloughey on the Ards Peninsular coast on 10 August 1952. She was fully loaded with a cargo of hides and timber. The effort to refloat the stricken vessel included transferring the load to relief ships and the first boat docked in Strangford around lunchtime on Saturday 16 August loaded with hides, to be discharged and stored in Messer’s W & A McMullan’s store. This particular Saturday happened to be the day of a regatta, which was organised in Ballyhornan and as most of the dockers were involved with the punts, labour was hard to obtain that day. An agent from Lloyds who had the responsibility to minimise the cost of the tragedy and get the ship floating again as soon as possible offered anyone who would work rates of pay five or six times the going rate, so desperate was he not to have a total loss of the Lassell and its cargo. In the end he recruited a team of young people including apprentices and students. Work continued into the night and the first part was completed on Sunday evening when all the hides were stored and in control of Mr Hugh McAfee the Manager of McMullan’s Strangford Branch. When it came to the payout time the agent, true to his word, paid what he promised and the work force went home with their pockets bulging with money. One apprentice joiner used his windfall wisely and bought a quality suit and when he attended a youth meeting one Sunday wearing his purchase he received quite a lot of scoffing. His reply was to take the sleeve in the time honoured method of testing the quality of cloth between the finger and thumb saying “look at that - pure hide”! The mainstream dockers having missed out at first had good fortune when it was decided to transfer the timber cargo from the Lassell to the harbour. The rates of pay were not as generous as for the hides but long hours were worked and the economy of 10

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Strangford benefited. After a period the unusual cargoes for Strangford were loaded onto what was reported to be the largest ship to dock at Strangford and departed to their original destination together with their distinctive aromas. *******

Isle o Valla - The Charter School by Eamon McMullan

Isle O Valla, a large imposing structure with a tree lined avenue driveway up to its ornate Georgian door with its oversized fanlight above and narrow side windows to bring light into the entrance hall, was a well known house to me. As a youngster in the 1930’s I went there for buttermilk, eggs or potatoes on many a Saturday morning. In those days the house was owned by Frank McCausland, a friend of my father who visited our house on most Sundays on his way home from the Meeting House on the Quarry Hill. He was an imposing figure of a man, like the house he lived in. Well over the six foot mark and very much the successful gentleman farmer, down to the red satin handkerchief he wore in the breast pocket of his tweed ‘Sunday go to Meeting suit’. His sister Anna looked after the house – her name was Rosanna or Susanna, or something like that. but she always was known by the short version, Anna. She had a phobia about cleanliness and would never put her bare hand on the door knob for fear of contamination. She always used her apron or a drying cloth. As a child I was always impressed by the height of the ceilings and windows which gave the place a church-like institutional atmosphere, cold and echoy. And that’s just what it was, a Charter School, as I found out years later when talking to Isle O’Valla House my sister-in-law Winifred Murphy whose great grandmother was a pupil there in the 1830’s – after the Charter had been rescinded. Her name was Margaret Ardiss. An interesting side note is that this same lady’s sister was the great grandmother of Pauline, Godfrey and Herby Quayle, thus connecting one of the leading Catholic families in the village to one of the leading Protestant ones – so ‘we’re all the same beneath the skin’. But more about that later and the physical, real connection that has come down to us via this lady. Education in Ireland was originally for the elite. HenryVIII introduced parish schools to teach English in 1537 but to a large extent this was ignored. In the early 16th century, 230 charity schools were in existence, catering for about 3,000 children. During these 11

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Penal times Catholics were forbidden their own schools although the ‘hedge school’ succeeded in giving some a basic education. Out of these charity schools the Charter School system evolved. The main purpose in the minds of the original founders, a committee of 15 leading citizens of the day, was to bring the native Irish from ‘their wild kind and manner of living’ and ‘reclaim them from the dangerous errors of their Papish ways’. Dr Maule, Bishop of Cloyne, wrote to George II in 1730 and made him aware of the need, stressing the fears of the Protestant minority surrounded by a million uneducated Papists and, at the King’s desire, Dr Boulter, Primate of Ireland, created the ‘committee of 15’. They proposed an educational system ‘to propagate the Protestant faith and the English language’. Primate Boulter in a letter to the Bishop of London showed concern about ‘the obstinacy with which the Irish adhere to their own religion, occasions our trying what may be done with their children to bring them over to our church’. So the schools were to become a distinct method to proselytise the children of the native population by the well-meaning, though misguided, committee of 15. It was in these circumstances and in that atmosphere that the ‘Incorporated Society for Promoting English Protestant Schools in Ireland’ came into being. Its schools became known as ‘Charter Schools’. George’s Charter having been granted in 1733. The children of the poor boarded in the school, on average thirty per school, but it was found that they were still ‘under the influence of their Papish parents’, so a system of transportation was introduced to remove the pupils from their local area and educate them at a safe distance from the influence of their own people. All children coming into the system went first to Dublin and were then farmed out to whichever school had room for them. It was ordered, in 1740, that no more than 10% if the intake should be Protestant. Two months later they changed their minds and proposed that no Protestants be admitted, they not being in need of enlightenment. By 1746 twenty-two schools had been opened. The Strangford school was founded by a grant of £500 from the Earl of Kildare. His dowager later gave two acres of land and another twenty at half rent. Originally girls were to be taught housecraft and boys agricultural pursuits but, as times were changing so those in power decided to include the spinning and weaving of linen as part of the curriculum. This eventually led to an abuse of the system and some of the masters feathered their own nests and lined their own pockets by selling the results of the labour and keeping the proceeds. The ‘kidnap’ methods used to recruit students created heartache and resentment and many parents travelled great distances to rescue their children. So much so that in 1749 a law was passed that those engaged in such affairs should be brought to court ‘within the month’. Throughout there formative years the organisers and founders were convinced in the righteousness of their cause and morally justified in the methods they used, after all were they not trying to enlighten a poverty stricken and ignorant people and raise them from the ‘depths of their Popish idolatry?’ Masters and Mistresses were hired with little regard to their ability or suitability for the posts they were to fill. On meagre salaries, around £35 to £45, it was inevitable that they would augment their income by buying less food and clothing for their students, heat the schools frugally and profiteer on the produce of the children’s labour. Gradually a condition of near slavery evolved and it was common for the master to hire out his charges and to run a sweat shop especially in the linen trade. The original concept was for the schools to be self sufficient, boys growing and tending the garden, girls sewing 12

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and making the clothing. In reality the type of person the regime produced was ‘surley and loutish’ and ‘such miserable objects that they were a disgrace to all society’. The educational side became low priority and almost forgotten. These conditions were noted by the board in 1773 who reported that they were of the opinion that the whole situation ‘was the cause of great injury and discredit to society’. John Wesley, on visits to Ireland in 1773 and 1785 reported to the Incorporated Society on the ‘squalid conditions and the lack of educational effort’ within the schools and, following these reports, in 1778, the House of Commons enquired into the workings of the Society, and produced the first report on the conditions. ‘Abysmal’, ‘dirt’, ‘squalor’, ‘neglect’, ‘sickly’, ‘half starved’, ‘infirm’, were words that cropped up with unusual frequency in the report, produced by John Howard, a Quaker, who visited most of the establishments in 1782-88. Then, in 1808, a new account was submitted – praising the system, the schools and the masters. It said that the children were ‘uncommonly healthy’. However, a further inspection some years later claimed that the two clergymen and the secretary of the Board of Education, Mr John Corneille, had been ‘deceived by the masters or misled by the kindness of their own dispositions’. As a consequence of these deteriorations, 1809 saw the closure of five schools – although at that time there was also an increase in the number of pupils. The explanation is that the masters manipulated the figures and books because they were paid and supplied according to numbers on the rolls – a case of what could be called ‘Roll Deceit’. The quality of the apprentices coming out of the schools was poor in the extreme. Boys were ‘slothful, dirty and vicious’ and girls ‘easy to fall victim of the seducer’. It was therefore common for the boys to recruit into the army. The girls on the other hand were difficult to place in employment, ‘not even the offer of a bounty would tempt anyone to hire them’. In 1818 the Rev Elias Thackery, cousin of William Makepeace, reported that the schools were performing in the manner for which they had been created – ‘as asylums for the orphan and distressed’. No mention being made of the former purpose of converting children to the ‘true Church’. Obviously this aim had been found to be unattainable, Gradually the whole system degenerated in a downward spiral and became an acute embarrassment to the managing body. Public aid, over a short time, was withdrawn and Government funding also dried up and eventually ceased in 1832. By that time Strangford and Ballycastle were the only two establishments left in the north of the country. Clonmel, Sligo and Strangford were the three schools in which the regime was particularly severe so far as cruelty was concerned.. Cane, stick, taws and whip were the usual punishment, especially for those who were bold enough to tell the inspectors the truth. A boy who wanted his ‘whole milk’, the ‘sup’, which was recommended by the board, refused the broth made from the boiling water of the days dinner of pigs feet and beef and was flogged in the Strangford school. Jeremiah Fitzpatrick an inspector of Prisons reported that the conditions were ‘tolerable’ and the teaching ‘acceptable’ in the Strangford school, but then Elias Thackery sacked two of the masters in the same place for being ‘incapable of teaching anything to anyone’. It was discovered that young girls were in danger at the schools – they all became single sex institutions, Strangford for boys, Ballycastle for girls. In 1817-18 Strangford was rebuilt at a cost of £4,000. Reported in O/S memoirs of 1833. The ‘Charter School’ can be seen on George Johnston’s map of 1755 – so – perhaps the original building by the Earl of Kildare was a much less imposing one, £500 being all it cost. Or did inflation run mad in the intervening 62 years? 13

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Alexander Nimmo’s map of 1821 places the school well south of Ferry Quarter in Cloughy at where I think John Johnston’s house is situated, before Tullyhill, - just about a mile out. Was the school built in the 1730’s, or in 1817-18? George Johnston and the O/S memoirs differ and I leave the question unanswered. After the Charter was removed in 1830 it is probable that the property was handed back to the Earl of Kildare, then rented to a Rev Samuel Livingstone who ran a school there for local children. One of these was the Margaret Ardiss mentioned earlier, an artistic child, who created a little work of art in her needlework class, In years to come this would become the property of her great grandchild Winifred Murphy, who handed it over to her daughter Joan Richie, who happens to be my niece and who still treasures the little picture in her home, in Grenaside, in England. After the departure of the Rev Livingstone the house became the residence of the local judge, the Honourable, or maybe not so honourable, Sumerset Ward – no doubt a connection of the Bangor line.

Johnston’s map of narrows Around 1910 Isle O Valla (the island road), became the property of the McCausland family of Portaferry. They made their money through the salvage business and also 14

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Nemmo’s map of narrows owned a hotel. A son, John, ran the hotel in the 20’s and also became an international Bridge player. His brother Frank became the owner of the house and farm at Isle O Valla, on the death of his father. His claim to fame was that he was looked on by the local people as being the cause of the closure of the little nine hole golf course which marched with his land. A beautiful varnished gate used to grace the front entrance to the house. It was an attractive work of art with a ship’s wheel as its centrepiece. Unfortunately vandals or opportunistic thieves sawed the wheel out of the gate in the fifties and so a beautiful piece of the carpenter’s art was destroyed. A ship’s keel used to span the narrow channel between the Black Islands and the mainland. It was used as a bridge but finally became unstable and unusable. It was said to have come from a sailing ship that ran aground on the Cloughy Rocks. Perhaps both artefacts came from the wreck and were salvaged by the same McCausland family. When Frank died the farm was bought by the Lowe family, later inherited by Elizabeth, now Mrs Warren, a lady who was most gracious to me on the phone when I was in the midst of my enquiries. I would also like to thank Kenneth Milne, author of ‘The Irish Charter Schools 17301830’ and Joseph Robins, author of ‘The Lost Children’ for background information. Other background information came from Harris ‘State of County Down’, Bassett’s ‘County Down’, Stevenson’s ‘Life in Down’ and O’Laverty’s ‘History of Down and Connor’. Needle craft of Margaret Ardiss (1830) Now Isle O Valla house stands alone and falling into neglect with 15

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Black Islands Bridge only the lonely cries of the seagulls perched on its roof, as I eyed its crumbling shell, disturbing the tranquil silence. In my imagination I also heard the tragic cries of those lost children and the slap of their cold bare feet on the chill stone floors echoing the slap of the cane on their poor skinny, under nourished bodies, as they tried to speak English and avoid another mark on the tally stick hung round their necks, leading to more whippings when the marks amounted to ten. Goodbye to those ‘good old days’ and good riddance to the cold-blooded people whose misguided sense of righteousness led to such abuse. They may have meant well, but oh what a cruel life it gave to the unfortunate inmates of their establishments. Robbed of their parents, friends and families, transplanted many miles from home with no one to turn to, no one to befriend them or hold out a helping hand. Such a sad, sad note on which to end, yet end I must.

A Country Shop by Mena McKeating

When the larder is bare or the freezer looks empty, we get into our car and drive to the nearest supermarket. With its well stacked shelves, meat and fish counters, fresh fruit and vegetables and even ready cooked meals and the tempting offers ‘buy two and get one free’, no wonder we buy too much and leave the supermarket with our trolleys piled high and over flowing. It was different in the 1930’s when we only went to town once a month, by bus with a half a mile walk to and from the bus stop. Each village had its grocer’s shop, and weekly shopping was usually done on a Saturday. Nearly every town land had its own shop, from the very small sales, selling just cigarettes and sweets, to the larger ones like McMullans in Ballynarry selling most groceries including bacon sliced on a bacon slicer and homemade ice-cream in the summer. Our shop was Lizzie Watterson’s just two fields away. She must have been in her seventies and she wore a large apron down to her toes, and a man’s cap with the peak at the back. She owned a farm and lived in a one-storey house with a slate roof and a 16

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porch at the front. The kitchen had a flagged floor, and an open fire with an oven at the left hand side. The porch was also the shop and we sat in the kitchen as she put our groceries into a basket, but when it came to the biscuits she came into the kitchen and took them out of the oven. As a child it always amazed me how Lizzie could bake the biscuits and wrap them at the same time. It was only in later years I realised that she stored them there because it was dry and airtight. Old age and bad health forced Lizzie to leave her farm and shop, so she went to live with her sister Annie in Belfast. She died a few years later and she was buried on a cold snowy day in St. Malachy’s cemetery in Kilclief. She was the last of the Wattersons. At that time there were eleven families living in Drumroe, now only one family name remains. The houses are still there plus four new bungalows, but the old family names like Murray, Hynds, Fitzsimmons, McAlea, McCartan, Magee and Crean are, like Lizzie’s wee shop, gone forever. I stand alone Blue sky and cloud Thinking I rarely speak aloud Among the thoughts that crowd my mind Little things like these I find Your hand upon my head A book we both have read Daffodils and swallows Hills and hollows Simple things but no more You have left, departed, gone.

Woman’s Institute 1983 - 2003 Compiled by Peig Denvir.

The history of ‘The Woman’s Institute’ in the Strangford area is undoubtedly worthy of record in our local history and so we bring you a flavour of our twenty years in existence through our recollections. Our founder, Greta McMordie, with her vast experience in every facet of the worldwide Federation of Institutes, set up our first meeting in her drawing room in Avenue Cottage where she and her husband Harry came to reside in their retirement. Over cups of coffee and home-made scones she steered us to our inaugural meeting in the ‘Lobster Pot’. At this time we had no venue but Greta approached Fr Kelly, the then P.P. of Strangford, for permission to use the school dining hall for our subsequent meetings on the first Thursday of the month. The locals and those who came to retire in the lovely surroundings of Strangford got to know each other better and so shared many interests and activities. Greta was a tireless worker for Cross Community Relations. Her effort in this regard was also evident and appreciated by the Inverbrena Community Committee. 17

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Alas, time brings changes and the busy life-style of the younger generation has depleted our membership so, sadly, we have had to cease as an Institute but friendships endure. We have enjoyed coming together to bring you these flash-backs contributed by some of our ‘scribes’ as we proudly go into the history book, if not the Calendar, for posterity!!

Our inaugral meeting in St.Josephs School.

Forward by Greta McMordie The first Women’s Institute in the world was organised at Stoney Creek, Saltfleet, Ontario, Canada on 19th Feburary 1897 by Mrs Adelaide Hunter - Hoodless whose ancestors came from Co.Monaghan. The aim of the Institute is: “To unite in promoting any work which makes for the betterment of our homes and the development and improvement of conditions of rural life, by providing a centre for educational activities and social intercourse”. It was originally a rural organisation which spread to the villages and towns throughout the world. As a newcomer to Strangford and having been a member of the Upper Falls Institute for many years, I thought it would be a good idea to form an Institute in Strangford; this to include women of the village and surrounding townlands. My main purpose in doing so was to get women to meet together in friendship and for the betterment of the community. Its sister organisation in the south of Ireland is the Irish Country Women’s Association. We have had many enjoyable exchanges with them and made many friendships. Some of our members have had interesting week long scholarships at their head-quarters in “An Grianan” near Dublin I take great joy in seeing the fruits of our endeavours endure Greta and even though we have ceased officially, may these friendships McMordie continue in our community. 18

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The inclusion of our story in the Inverbrena Journal guarantees that we will be remembered. Many thanks to all who have contributed.

Outings Strangford W.I. 1983 – 2002 by Phyl Johnston

Our very first outing was in Shannie’s bus to see a play at the Lyric in Belfast and on the way home, on a very cold, clear night, the bus broke down about a mile out of Strangford. How were we to get help? We were stranded quite near Sally and Joe Maguire’s home by the little lake near Bannaghan Road, so Sally and I got off the bus and began to walk in our high heels along the slippery, ice covered road towards her house. The cold grabbed us and we walked carefully along. I remember the bare, dark trees against the night sky. The road was deserted – twenty years ago there was far less traffic than there is today.

Howth 1994 Sally’s house was warm and inviting and we phoned some of the husbands. Soon Leslie McCullough, Brian Denvir and Alan Johnston arrived in their cars and began to ferry the twenty or so ladies home. One of our earliest all day outings, maybe summer 1984,I remember sitting at the back of the bus talking to Brenda Croke. She was born and bred in and near Strangford while I was a newcomer. She told me the names of different parts of the road into Downpatrick – Quarry Hill, the Doctor’s Hill, Buck’s Hill etc. etc. I wish I could recall more of them!

June 1994 We left Strangford in a McDermott bus from Portaferry with a new young driver 19

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who had not previously taken a group to the south of Ireland. The ladies of the Howth Guild of the Irish Countrywomen’s Association had invited us for lunch. At Hilltown the noise of the exhaust alarmed us and we stopped for repairs. The newly refurbished Downshire Arms supplied us with coffee while we waited. On to the lovely seaside town of Howth where our hostesses waited courteously for us – even though we were two hours late – and gave us a delicious lunch in their attractive hall. They took us on a historical tour of Howth and its famous Castle, followed by afternoon tea and Irish coffee from the friendly ladies. On the way North we stopped for an evening meal at Dundalk. Other memories:- When Norah Reid was on a W.I outing she often stood at the front of the bus, playing familiar tunes on her mouth organ, and we all joined in singing the songs. There were many enjoyable theatre outings to Downpatrick and also to Belfast’s Lyric Theatre on the embankment. Our very last outing was to Hillsborough for a tour of the Castle and its gardens, followed by shopping and a special last dinner at the ‘Marquess of Hillsborough’. The twenty years of friendship at Strangford W.I. has been an enrichment of my life here.

Competitions and Thrift Table by Kathleen Price & Sally Maguire

At each meeting we had a competition and points were awarded to the winner. A different item was selected each month such as an unusual button, the prettiest Christmas decoration, Granny’s beauty tip or an old postcard – the range was many and varied. One of the highlights was when an Antique Dealer, Caesar Doyle was our Guest Speaker and members were invited to bring an antique to be valued. He also selected the prize-winning item for the competition. At the end of the year the member with the most points won the Brownlee Rose Bowl. Each month we had a ‘Thrift Table’. This consisted of members donating items such as Jam, Flowers, Pot-Plants,Vegetables etc. Members purchased these and the proceeds were donated to one of the W.I. Charities.

Dramas

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by Mary Rooney During the period of the Strangford W.I., from September 1983 to July 2002, we staged many sketches written and produced by our members. The highlight of each year was in March when we had our ‘Irish Night’. We celebrated with Irish stew and Apple tarts, singing, music and Irish Dancing and of course the evening was not complete without the Drama group performing a funny sketch. These evenings were also enjoyed by many of the local people. Everyone was welcome to join in the fun. On ‘Hospitality Nights’ we entertained many other Institutes who enjoyed the talents and skills of our members. On our 10th Anniversary we had a great Hospitality Night with music, singing and dancing. We ended with a one-act play which was a very funny farce called “Mixing with the Right People”. It was acted and produced by our Drama group. Sadly, this was the last play we performed. The most memorable and funniest play we ever staged was in 1987 and was written and produced by our members. It was called “A Strangford Ferry Story”. The scene was set on the Strangford Ferry boat and centred around the passengers who were crossing to Portaferry. There was much laughter, gossip and ridicule until thick fog set in and the boat broke down. The scene then changed to panic and commotion and all feared they were going to a watery grave. Maurice, the Ticket Collector, calmed the crowd whilst the Captain set off distress flares and contacted the Coastguard. There were loud cheers when the ‘Blue Peter V’ lifeboat came into sight and all sang “We are Sailing” – like all good Ferry Tales this one had a happy ending! The Cast was as follows:

The cast of “A Strangford Ferry Story” Captain (Kathleen Price) – not worried about the fog – the boat is unsinkable and only out of drydock. Ticket Collector (Sally Maguire) – trying to keep the passengers in order and a little worried about the fog. Elizabeth (Moya Magee) – prim and proper schoolgirl worried about getting to Chemistry class on time. Gloria (Freda Sharvin) – happy go lucky schoolgirl prancing about to Heavy Metal music from her Walkman. 21

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Granny Taylor (Josie Connolly) – pushing Baby Bonnie in her buggy. Granny was one of the most memorable characters. She ad-libbed because she could not remember her lines. This caused hilarious laughter throughout the play. Baby Bonnie (Edith Hynds – in her baby grow) sitting in her buggy with a big dummy in her mouth and entertaining all with her baby talk. Mrs Poots (May Johnston) – she is a regular – “On the way to the Chemist for my medicine” she says. Her bag is packed with empty bottles on the way over and full ones on the way back! Mrs Piper (Joan Millar) – scarf wrapped round her jaw and continually moaning – on her way to the Dentist. Lady X (Peig Denvir) – snooty lady with a poodle under her arm and a large suitcase covered with labels. Her private launch has broken down. Captain Rodgers, the Lifeboat skipper (Maisie Brownlee) – the hero of the day – Captain Rodgers arrived in her Blue Peter V lifeboat and saved passengers and crew. Narrator – Maud Evans Guitar – Maire Denvir Stage Managers – Virginia Hardy Choir – Breda Croke Jill Schofield Eileen Hanna Producer – Mary Rooney Lucy Hanna Maureen Hunter Una McMullan

Fashion Shows by Pat McCullough

The talks at our monthly meetings were always interesting and informative, but like women everywhere, we liked to keep up to date with current fashion trends. Our first show was organised by Mrs. Jean King, who owned a dress shop in Castlewellan. Jean’s sisters, Kathleen Price, Sally Maguire and Mary Rooney were members of the Institute, so Sally and Kathleen with Phyl Johnston, Claire Atherton and Moya Magee agreed to be the models who displayed the clothes, which they did with great elegance in the dinner hall of St. Joseph’s School. The school was the setting for our second fashion venture, when Mrs. Hazlett brought an extensive selection of the stock from her “Options” shop at St. Patrick’s Avenue. She also brought several experienced models who were joined by Phyl, Sally and Claire. I was a rather nervous compere that evening, but I need not have worried, as Mrs. Hazlett supplied me with cards describing each outfit and Erin Bradshaw giving the prices so that everyone was fully informed. It is now ten years since our final show.We had become much more adventurous and with the kind co-operation of Dunnes Stores, who agreed to lend the clothes, we decided to book the Inverbrena Hall and open the evening to 22

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the public. Dunne’s manager agreed that our models, Sally, Phyl, Claire and Mina Juliffe could choose the clothes they would wear, so they set off for Belfast to make their selection. This was a summer show, so frocks for weddings, yachting gear and evening outfits, as well as casual clothes for picnics and barbecues, were gleefully selected and brought back to Strangford. Children’s fashions were to be included so Erin and Niall Bradshaw, Sean O’Reilly and Ronan Conway were cajoled or bribed into taking part. Erin remembers the embarrassment Niall Bradshaw, Sean O’Reilly of one particular outfit “a flowery & Ronan Conway jumpsuit” which she had to wear so obviously the children weren’t allowed much choice in their outfits! As compere again I had to get the details of the items on to cards and I recall everything from the smallest to the largest article seemed to be priced in so many pounds and ninety-nine pence. Why stores take off that odd penny baffles me! The Inverbrena committee had built a cat walk for us extending almost the length of the hall and they even carpeted it for our models comfort. Kit Juliffe, then of Castleward, spent the afternoon stapling greenery along the sides of the walkway so with beautiful flower arrangements in the foyer and main hall, the scene was set for a great evening. It was all well worthwhile and we had a large and appreciative audience. The models swished by in their finery and everyone loved the children who behaved so well and did all they were asked, displaying the outfits to the best advantage. Certainly these were three memorable evenings in the life of Strangford W.I., but just three of the many which we fondly recall. The fun and the friendships which were established, and the laughter which we shared at W.I. meetings will no doubt be long remembered.

Irish Nights Remembered by Peig Denvir

Irish Nights at the March meetings was Greta’s idea and all joined in enthusiastically. Members wore something green; a scarf, a brooch, a jumper or some such item, just to mark the night that “was innit”. However Phyl Johnston stole the show when she arrived as an Irish Colleen. She looked so coy in her red flannel skirt and plaid shawl while the little basket on her arm finished the picture. Each year varied in its format but always the young Irish dancers of the area performed 23

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in their lovely colourful costumes and the music from Billy Mannion set the atmosphere for the evening. Of course Irish Stew and apple tart, made by the committee, was served to all. It became standard practice to finish up with everyone dancing the “Waves of Tory”. In preparation we learned the “sevens” and the jig step involved. Getting the waves right was hilarious – not up to the standard of our dancing maestro, Tommy Reid, but our agility was certainly put to the test and when the music went into march time we straightened up, put our shoulders back and boldly carried on! Phew! Our resident poetess, Joan Millar put it in verse.

The Night our Friend Peig Tried to Teach us to Dance! On a cold winter’s night with the wind blowing hard We drove up the road to Denv ir’s farmyard. The welcome was cordial, “Come on away in.” “We are ready and waiting, let dancing begin.” Oh the night our friend Peig tried to teach us to dance! May got so excited, she near bounced off the wall. We all thought for sure she would head for a fall. Poor Tilly kept shouting, her voice growing higher, “This carry on bates me, I’ll away home to the byre.” Oh the night our friend Peig tried to teach us to dance! Phyl kept quiet and cool and looked at her feet, All her actions so calm and her steps very neat. The others all showed us how the dance should be done. They were kind and forbearing, they made it all fun. Oh the night our friend Peig tried to teach us to dance! We have had few rehearsals, so don’t be too hard On all of the experts our efforts may jar. It was done for a laugh and to give you some fun To celebrate St. Patrick and all he had done. May he bless our friend Peig who taught us to dance!

Another year Una Kelly, as a slip of a lass once graced the International stage in the ‘Come Dancing’ series, was really chuffed that she fitted into her costume and bravely danced with her little daughter to rapturous applause and “well done” as she flopped into her chair exhausted! The Ceili House was the theme another year. It was held in the Church of Ireland hall on the Quarry Hill. We had a make-believe hearth fire and an old-fashioned double-burner oil lamp to light the proceedings. Phyl was the bean-a-ti in her armchair by the fire, her shawl around her shoulders and her glasses on the point of her nose. She rocked to and fro 24

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as she gave a hearty welcome to all the neighbours as they dropped in for a sing-song and a bit of craic. Percy Artherton delighted us with a few songs and Billy Mannion set our feet tapping to his accordion reels and jigs. Greta added a little sobriety at this point by her beautiful reading from the Annals of St. Patrick, which was most appropriate.And of course no Irish night was complete without the stew, the apple tarts and the “waves” – no appreciable improvement on the intricacies of the foot work but as enjoyable as ever! After singing the Country Women’s Song the bean-a-ti wished us “Slan-a-bhaile” until next year. Then again it was Peig’s turn so she dressed up as a leprechaun. As she sat on her wee stool, Carmel Hanvey, with her little school children choreographed the fairies, tripping barefoot to the music of the fiddle, scattering snowdrops on their way while Peig recited Richard Rowley’s poem about “The Fiddler o’ Legananny” who tramped the roads o’Mourne and whom they lured into their magic fort and held him captive under their spell for a hundred years. Sometimes our ‘Hospitality Night’ when we invited guests from other Institutes, co-incided with our Irish Night. This one was very recent and as it happened, our grand finale as an Institute. It was a most memorable one. Numerically our committee was depleted but we bravely carried on. Rhoma Buchannan and friends volunteered to make Irish Stew on her Aga in Compass Hill, for over sixty guests. Apple tarts and cream came from somewhere and everywhere. Our entertainment was provided by Eamon McMullan with his barber shop quartet, as they sang old familiar numbers with an Irish theme. The audience showed their delight and appreciation by clapping and joining in. Many of our guests lingered on afterwards to reminisce and congratulate us on a most enjoyable night. These are just a few of the wonderful memories of fun and laughter we had at Strangford W.I.

Letter to Greta

Our first Honorary Member Dear Greta, We’re very pleased to gather here With thoughts and wishes most sincere. You’ve been our skipper all the way To steer us lest we go astray. Led by your charm and blarney too We dared what once we dared not do. We ventured seas to lands unknown, Found friendships there that since have grown To enrich our lives and make them better. Our thanks to you, our dearest Greta.

Celebrating with Greta 25

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Your enthusiasm is most inspiring, Buzzing around and never tiring Baking shortbread or what’er it takes, Laying tables, some traybakes, Arranging posies, wrapping gifts to boot, And all is done for the Institute. Your lovely smile and active brain Your busy bustling walk, Your bicycle and cloud of hair – Of these we will not talk! But on your good deeds we will dwell – Your hospitality And how you raised, with tea and laughs Money for charity

We honour you on this special day, Tho’ you’re semi-retired, we’re glad to say We still have you as an active member With many more years to enjoy and remember May we not forget, as we tell your story, To mention Harry on your day of glory, Gratitude to him is surely due For the nights spent alone in The Avenue.

From your friends in Strangford W.I. January 1999

Senior Citizens Christmas Dinners.

The Senior Citizen’s dinner was organised by our Institute and was the highlight of the year. The entertainment was provided by Billy Mannion and Joe Stratten and later by Gerry and Maurice Curran. Pat Fitzsimons led the singing from the locals and had little trouble in coaxing a song from Nora Reid, W.J. Cull, Eileen Hanna and Muriel Reid while a few yarns were enjoyed from the effervesant James Curran. With much cajoling Margaret Rooney’s rendering of ‘The Galway Shawl’ was most memorable. In these earlier years the Institute held the Christmas Dinners in the Lobster Pot under the management of Seamus McMorrow,Walter Dabernig and then McComb Bros. They were all most accommodating and obliging and we thank them sincerely. The year that the Lobster Pot was under refurbishment and was not available, the proprietors put on transport and brought all our citizens to their Templeton Hotel in Antrim where they entertained us to a superb meal and drinks – courtesy of the management – an unforgettable gesture. The Senior Citizen’s Dinner became very popular but the dwindling numbers in our Institute found it difficult to carry on so the younger and more energetic St.V. de Paul took over the task. We still gave a subscription as did all our annual sponsors and we

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are very grateful to them. The Cuan is the regular venue for the annual event now and is enjoyed by all our senior patrons. Peter McErlean, the perfect host in his tall white hat, mingles with the guests and with his crack and blarney, gives that special touch to the festivities.

Strangford Women’s Institute. Year 1983/84 1984/85 1985/86 1986/87 1987/88 1988/89 1989/90 1990/91 1991/92 1992/93 1993/94 1994/95 1995/96 1996/97 1997/98 1998/99 1999/00 2000/01 2001/02

President Mary Brownlee Mary Brownlee Mary Brownlee May Johnston Greta McMordie Greta McMordie Leah Bradshaw Phyl Johnston Phyl Johnston Leah Bradshaw Greta McMordie Greta McMordie Mina Juleff Mina Juleff Deirdre Hanna Deirdre Hanna Deirdre Hanna Maureen Hunter Hazel Rogers

Secretary Breda Croke Breda Croke Breda Croke Pat McCullough Dorothy McCaughan Maxine Phoenix Deirdre Hanna Betty Conway Betty Irwin Nicola Conner Maureen Fox Hazel Rogers Maureen Hunter Maureen Hunter Hazel Rogers Jean Hughes Maureen Hunter Lynette Gudgeon Lynette Gudgeon

Treasurer Lucy Hanna Phyl Johnston Phyl Johnston Jill Schofield Imelda Fitzsimons Imelda Fitzsimons Josie Connolly Betty Irwin Jill Schofield Mina Juleff Mina Juleff Kathleen Price Mary Rooney Mary Rooney Leah Bradshaw Phyl Johnston Mary Rooney Mary Rooney Deirdre Hanna

And so ends our story in song by Joan Miller

There’s a wee place called Strangford, it lies by the sea The people who live there are like you and me. They’re sober and on drugs don’t get high, And the ladies love going to the W.I. On a Tuesday they meet and their tongues really wag But with speakers and ballots the time doesn’t lag May keeps them in order and calls them to rule But Josie thank goodness, keeps playing the fool Like all other ladies they like drinking tea But the chat goes with it is really the key To the fun and the friendship that always abounds 27

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And smiles are more frequent than gloomy old frowns. But beneath all the laughter and joking and fun They are willing to see that each job is well done When they’re asked for a cake or maybe some funds They open there purses and drown us in buns! ******

Articles on “Home Words” by Isobel Magee

Introduction An interesting discovery was made in the home of the late John Orr, Ballyculter. When the farm house was having the roof repaired in the 1960s, on the wall beneath the slates was found little booklets called Home-Words dated 1877, 1878, 1879. The name of Mr Harry Torney was written in pencil on them. The builder did not discard them although they were damp and tattered and very fragile. They were given to George McKibben. George placed them together and sorted them out and took great care to have them photocopied and sorted into four page magazines, which they originally consisted of. One for every month of the year. It is interesting to read how life went on around Ballyculter, Killough, Portaferry, Kilclief, Dunsford, Ballee, Rathmullen, Saul etc. in the 1800s. So we will include some articles and sketches for our Inverbrena History Book:In the January issue Vol VII No. 1 of Home Words we have the circulation of copies and introduction for the new year of 1877:- May the facts brought forward be an encouragement to scatter Home Words far and wide; They will tend to make the hearths brighter and the hearts there, happier during the many days of the new year, and which we trust will be to all a joyous and prosperous one.

An article on Belfast and Ards Railway. An application to Parliament to construct a railway between Belfast and Portaferry, a distance of 31 miles. As it is proposed to carry this line to the shores of Portaferry it is hoping that everyone in their own interest, place a suitable steamer to ferry from both sides - Strangford and Portaferry. So in 1877 they were much aware of the long journey around to Portaferry, and the distance from Downpatrick. 28

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And the article on coffee rooms in Downpatrick where tea, coffee or soup could be had for reasonable prices. Tea or coffee with a slice of bread and butter 2 1/2d, soup with bread 3d. The daily papers were also supplied and in a second room writing materials etc. for people doing business. You could also leave your parcels in charge of the manager and collect them later. Behind the coffee rooms you could stable your horse and leave your trap for 2d each, while you attended the fair on the fair green, and did your business.

The Sermon for the New Year 1877 was:We now avail ourselves of the opportunity afforded us in our Home Words of reaching the homes of many in whose welfare we are deeply interested, and thus causing it to be the messenger of a few words, expressing our heartfelt good wishes for the New Year. Another year has been added to our lives and again we are spared to enter upon a new one. But let us not do so without a serious review of the past, reflecting on the many mercies God has bestowed upon us, the numerous blessings that have been strewed around our pathway, and the dangers and trials from which a loving Father’s omnipotent hand has shielded us. We may not however rest satisfied with this retrospect, but must dive into the inner recesses of our hearts, and there apply the telling question; hath the “one thing needful” been the principal object of our course hitherto? Martha was careful and troubled about many things but Mary had chosen the good part which should not be taken away from her:- If the answer be doubtful, let it no longer remain so: choose once, and for ever that good part and the Lord’s promise will hold good that “as thy days, so shall thy strength be”. Life, even in its sunniest moments, is but a pilgrimage, a journey through the wilderness like that of the Israelites of old; but He, who delivered them from bondage in Egypt and led them through the way of the Red Sea, will also now, as then, guide each pilgrim’s footsteps “by day in the pillar of a cloud, and by night in a pillar of fire”. We earnestly hope this New Year may be rich in blessings and prove bright to all, nought of its brightness will be lost – but ever increased – by the addition of the true “light of the knowledge of the glory of God”. There is also included a poem every month with the initials A.H. It would be nice to know who the lovely poems were written by (does anyone know who AH was?).

Farewell to the Old Year In the solemn shade of midnight A lonely watch we keep, While with joy and sadness mingled We lay the year to sleep; For our hearts are moving strangely As we hear its passing bell. And to its hours departed We bid a last farewell! We mourn our own weak spirit 29

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That yielded in the strife. We weep with prayerful pity For the many woes of life; For the hearths by sorrow wasted, For the serpent mid the flowers For the storm-cloud looming darkly O’er this fair world of ours. But we joy that the rays of heaven Have shone our pathways o’er, That the presence of our Father Is with us evermore. That nearer, ever nearer To our journey’s end we come And burning purer, clearer Are the beacon lights of home; For we know, if faith be steadfast. That the love will never fail. That the anchor of our safety. Is firm within the veil. Then strong with hope immortal Our eyes undimmed with fear. We gird us to the battle And hail the dawning year! A.H.

The last page of this month’s magazine January, is the life of St. Patrick, to be continued every month. This is interesting reading as it refers to many local places. In the September magazine is the story of Strangford Lough, continues in the March, April, June, July, August, September, October and December of 1878. May and November are missing. The March 1879 magazine contains The Anglo-Norman families of Lecale, which is good reading; the principal Irish families in the year 1879 include such names as McKeatins, Hynds, Maglenons (with the Mac dropped) Glennon, Hannets became Hanna, Connors, Magreedys, Taggarts, McConveys, Crangles, McKearney became Kearney, Killens, McIlmeals, McCumuskey’s, many names which are with us in Lecale today.

Comment:I have spelled the words as they are written. Names and words are used differently today. Remember this was 1800s. February Magazine 1877,Vol VII No. 2 of Home Words. A concert was held in Ballyculter school. The schoolroom was decorated with ivy interspersed with mottoes suitable to the season and occasion, shown off by the brilliant lighting . The concert was in aid of London East End mission. The selection during 30

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the evening was from the works of the great masters – Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelsohn, Handel, Haydn, and Schumann – the concert was very much enjoyed by all. The amount raised at the door was £8 and doubled later with donations. The total amount realised would support a child for a year in one of the “Homes” connected with the Mission. The proceeds of the latter went to Dr Barnardo’s Home. The sermon of the month “Rescue the Perishing”.

The March magazine 1877 Vol VII3 of Home Words. Lord Bangor wished to have a library with instructive books religious and secular. In some future numbers we propose making a few observations on the “Objects of Reading”. The books can be obtained from Mr Lugate at the School House Ballyculter. Wrecks and Casualties Under this heading “The Times” daily records the fate of many vessels and their crews, and with the still more alarming notice of “Disasters at Sea”, we read of numbers of ships leaving their ports and never afterwards being heard of. It is sad to reflect upon all the hearts and hearths which are thus left anxious and mourning. The Psalmist truly says, “They that go down to the sea in ships, and do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep”. Such accidents have been more than usually prevalent this winter in consequence of the continuous and excessive storms of wind and rain, surrounded as this locality is by the sea, we can, alas! not reckon our shores as exempt from these wrecks, which happily however have caused no loss of life. Amongst those was that of a large German vessel on voyage from China to Glasgow with a valuable cargo of sugar. She had been out 115 days, and although provided with a pilot, taken on board at Queenstown, went ashore early in the morning on Kearney point, and three hours afterwards the ship and cargo were totally lost. The crew numbering fourteen were gallantly and providentially rescued by five men from Tara coastguard station, who risked their own lives through a tremendous sea in a small boat, which on its return from the ship almost sank with the additional weight. A coasting vessel went ashore near Killard Point, and another German vessel was lost close to the entrance of our Lough, the owner of which said that she had been wrecked on account of there being no light although a lighthouse tower was there. Frequent casualties and loss of lives have occurred from the same cause. This structure on Rock Angus was erected at a large cost in 1853, but still is in darkness though earnest endeavours are constantly being made in vain, by the shipping interest with the Board of Trade and other authorities, to obtain for the entrance of this important harbour of refuge the suitable light. Within the eight years ending December 31st 1874, 3,357 vessels have entered this harbour for trade and 1,577 for shelter, in tonnage amounting to 137,952. Notwithstanding this fact, Strangford Lough and harbour are not of sufficient consequence to be properly lighted; but all those persons who are competent to judge in the matter, affirm that it is absolutely necessary for the preservation of ships and lives that the demands of our harbour should receive the same attention as is granted to almost every other one in this maritime country. Sad Case of a Distressed Family. We are often called upon to show prayerful sympathy for those who toil on the great deep. They are exposed to the fury of the storm and the dangers of the sea; and the 31

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sudden death that seizes upon many an active sailor and fisherman comes where there is no earthly friend to offer up the prayer of faith, and no loving hand to close the eye. Among the homes made desolate during the present inclement season has been that of the late William Jordon of Killough. He was for many years one of the most fearless and successful fishermen along the coast and was enabled by his industry to keep his family in comfort and respectability. He was drowned one stormy morning last month in Killough Bay by the capsizing of his boat, leaving his invalid wife and three helpless young children utterly destitute. We appeal to our readers on behalf of these bereaved ones, and request their aid in raising a small sum for their present necessities. Contributions for this object will be thankfully received by the Hon. Somerset Ward, Isle O Valla House Strangford; and the Rev. J. O’Flaherty, Killough, Co. Down. We are reminded the circulation of February numbers of Home Words exceeded 400 copies. The Editor the Rev. Charles Bullock offers his thanks for the interest taken. There was also the appearance of a Ballyculter Parish Almanack (but no records of it).

The April 1877 Magazine Vol VII No. 4 The April magazine refers to school examinations, the following extract from reports examined by Rev. J. W. Williams for Killough School. Arithmetic steadily improving, out of 83 questions 52 were worked quite correctly in the second class; and out of 38 questions 30 were quite correct in the upper class. Grammar very good. Scripture examination well done and the repletion capital. The children are always neat, quiet, and orderly: this time they were remarkably so and I must give them credit for all absence of whispering or ‘copying’. Ballyculter School – examined by Rev. W. S. Darley, in Church Formularies. The general answering of the children was remarkably good and afforded me much satisfaction. The appointed portion of the Church Catechism was perfectly well said. The junior division repeated the Apostles’ Creed and the Ten Commandments as well as could be desired. Of the girls, Eliza Orr was the best. Of the boys Thomas Ludgate and Johnston Hughes were almost equally deserving. This judgment includes the answering both in Holy Scripture and Church formularies. The usual vestry meetings were held in the Parish Church Ballyculter. Mr John Hughes and Mr Henry Brown were appointed church wardens in place of Mr Andrew McGhie and Mr James Porter Jun; and Mr J. Keaghey was reappointed secretary. We are happy to record that the sum of £34-1s has been already collected for the fisherman’s family in Killough. June 1877 Magazine Vol VII No. 6 We wish to state, that out of the amount mentioned in our last number, as having been received for the Jordan family the sum of £20-14s-6d was collected in Killough previous to the appeal made in Home Words for March. The circulation of Home Words for May reached 480 copies. The Destruction of the Firstborn Tis night in the land of Egypt, 32

Exodus XII 29.30

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And the night is dark and calm, The moon is shining fitfully, The air is filled with balm; O’er a mighty nation’s slumbers The clouds their covering spread, The stars divide, disdain to shine, And nature’s face seems dead.

The tempest cloud is rising, And wilder grows the sky, The lightning swift, on its wings of flame, Is darting from on high; And the Lord’s destroying angel With a dark and gloomy smile, Is sweeping fast on the midnight blast, Down the valley of the Nile! The eye of the mighty cherub, Gleamed high with a fearful light, Like the burning sun at meridian prime, Or a meteor of the night; On the rolling clouds of thunder, He rides on his awful road, In his hand he bears the flaming sword Of the wrath of the living God.

July 1877 Magazine Vol No. 7 The July magazine was devoted to the meeting of the general Synod 1875 – 1876 held in Dublin 10th April. August 1877 The Lecale Farming Society. The Annual Cattle Show of the above Society was held on the Fair Green Downpatrick on Thursday July 5th: and notwithstanding the threatening aspect of the morning, and the heavy thunder showers which fell at intervals, there was a large attendance of those interested in the farming operations of our barony. The Society was established in 1844 and for many years bore its present title. It was very successful in improving the breed of cattle by the introduction into this neighbourhood, principally by Lord Bangor and the late Mr Maxwell of Finnebrogue, of pure bred short horn stock. Some years ago the area of the Society was extended so as to embrace the whole Union, and it was then styled “The Downpatrick Union Farming Society”. From that time the interest which the farmers of this barony had hitherto manifested in the Society, seemed to diminish, and very few of them appeared as competitors at the annual shows. Two years ago it was determined that the Society should be re-established on its original basis, and its operations limited to the barony of Lecale, and that it should revert to its old name, “The Lecale Farming Society”. The 33

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show which has just been held in Downpatrick has proved the wisdom of this decision, the interest which the Lecale farmers formerly manifested seems to have revived and the Society has every prospect of a future of much usefulness. There was a marked improvement this year both in the number and the quality of the stock exhibited . We are glad to see among the winners of prizes the names of Mrs Hughes of Churchtown, and Mr Hugh Magraw of Ballylena both residents in our own parish and we trust that on future occasions, many of our parishioners may be equally successful. We also hope that at the next Annual Show more of the gentry will come forward to compete in the amateur class with Lord Bangor and Major Maxwell. The Society does not confine its efforts to the Annual Cattle Show; it also aims at promoting the proper cultivation of the farms, and offers prizes with this object. We hope that all the farmers in the barony will show that they appreciate the Society by enrolling themselves among its members.

September 1877 S.R.W. The September magazine quoted the Assizes on Friday 13th July. His Lord Chief Justice May, who having been for many years a distinguished barrister presided for the first time as judge. His lordship in addressing the Grand Jury, congratulated them on the satisfactory state of the county as shown by the few cases returned for trial. And the new serial at the end of the magazine is on Strangford Lough. October 1877 October magazine, the sermon was on the presence of Christ. And a concert at Strangford held in Lord de Ros’s National School House. The object in view was to raise a sum for procuring new desks and forms to furnish the schoolroom, and we believe £7-14s was the amount raised. The concert was much enjoyed by the repeated applause by the audience. Another lovely poem by A.H.

The Seasons

I would not lose the smiles of Spring When nature wakes in gladness When blossoms bud and sweet birds sing, And lose their winter sadness. When wears the sky a deeper blue And e’en the trees have voices When bloom the flowers with brighter hue And all on earth rejoices I would not lose the summertime When blush the queenly roses. When flowers and fruit have reached their prime And calm the earth reposes.

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When seems the sky to overflow With soft and melting glory, When rests the mist, enwreathing low The mountains summit hoary.

I would not lose the autumn’s breath, Across the branches playing. While scattered leafleats far beneath Tell nature’s slow decaying, While colder blows the northern breeze, The tender floweret blasting And seems to sigh athwart the trees, “No joys of earth are lasting”. I would not lose the winter’s night, When embers from the fire Flash on the wall in circles bright And then in gloom expire. When round the social household hearth Assemble gay and weary, While robes of ermine deck the earth And all without is dreary. I would not lose the seasons’ round, Nor April’s sun and showers, Nor graceful May, with hawthorn crowned, Nor June, bedecked with flowers. Not dying autum’s shortening days Nor winter, stern and hoary, For each in turn their Maker praise And tell creation’s story.

A.H.

November 1877 November magazine. We hear again of the Ballyculter Parish Almanack. The Almanack or Calendar was first published last year and had a large circulation. We intend to issue one for the year 1878. We hope to be able to offer for sale the 1878 Almanack for one penny. School Feast at Strangford. On Wednesday afternoon, the 26th of September the annual school-treat was given by Lord de Ros in the picturesque grounds of Old Court to the young people (108 in number) attending Strangford National School. The children arrived at 3 o’clock when Lady de Ros kindly distributed a variety of useful gifts. Tea and cake were then abundantly supplied. Amongst those present were Lady Catherine Coke, Miss S. Coke, Miss Kerr, Miss C. Kerr, Hon. A. Dawson, Mr E. Boyle, Miss Nora Ward, Captain and Mrs Hill, Rev. A. and Mrs Vesey, Mrs Thetford, Mrs Hockley. 35

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We wish to remind our readers that it is a year since Ballyculter Parish Magazine was first established. The following is an estimate of monthly circulations. Ballyculter and Strangford 170; Downpatrick 77; Dunsford 50; Killough 26; Portaferry 24; Saul 15; Rathmullan 12; Tyrella 11; Ballee 6.

Religious Education. Report of Inspection of Strangford National School on the 22nd of August 1877, by Rev. W.S. Darley – Senior Division – “The general answering of this class was very satisfactory. The psalms and formularies were very well said by all the class, and the Scripture answering was in some cases very good, one girl having answered the full number of questions vis, “Mary Lord’. Junior Division – “The psalms, creed and ten commandments were well said by the class, and with some exceptions the Scripture answering was fair”. Names of children passed: Senior Division Junior Division Mary Lord Annie Pitt Margaret Lord Walter Wallace Alice Perrott William McDowell Annie Lord Samuel Montgomery Sarah Lord Lissie Lord Lettie Pitt. Number of children examined 17. Result Fees 13s 6d. Master - Mr G. Lord, Clergyman – Rev. A.Vesey.

December 1877 Ballyculter Schools It must be apparent to every thoughtful person that the subject of education is at the present time, one of very great importance. In this age of competitive examinations, many opportunities of rising to a position above that in which they were born, are offered to those of the humbler classes who have more than average talent. But the possession of good abilities is not in itself sufficient; they must have, in the first place the means afforded them of developing and improving their talents; and secondly perseverance and application in the use of those means. The responsibility of providing the former rests with the Government, landed proprietors, and ratepayers by erecting suitable schoolhouses and securing the services of competent teachers; while the latter depends on the parents insisting on the regular and punctual attendance of their children at school, and on the children paying attention to the instruction which they there receive. Lord Bangor, recognising his responsibility as a landlord has determined that nothing shall be wanting on his part in providing everything needful for the improvement of the children of his tenantry; and believing that education does not only consist in the acquirement of intellectual knowledge, but also includes the cultivation of habits of order, regularity, cleanliness and neatness has, with that view, rearranged and put into a state of thorough repair, his schoolhouses in Ballyculter. It may be interesting to our readers to have a brief sketch of improvements which have been effected. 36

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Miss Doran and pupils 1911 The stone flags with which the rooms were floored have been replaced by boards; the greater portion of the old rafters have been taken away, those that remain have been cased with pitch pine and varnished with white alabastor work in the intervals between each rafter and supported by strong iron girders painted blue, which gives the rooms a more lofty appearance than they formerly had; a wainscoating of varnished pitch-pine rises from the floor to a height of four feet, above which the walls have been distempered and coloured grey; new porches have been erected, one in front of the centre, and one on each end of the building; the two latter through which the boys and girls enter their respective school-rooms, have been roofed to correspond with the interior of the house, floored with octagonal tiles and fitted with pegs for hats and cloakes in order to promote cleanly and tidy habits on the part of the children. New lavatories have been built behind the schoolhouse. The old furniture has been entirely removed, and two complete sets of the newest pattern obtained from Messrs Sullivan Dublin. By a simple arrangement the desks can be turned over to the back of the forms, and thus become comfortable seats for people attending lectures etc., and by another arrangement equally simple, they can be formed into tea-tables. The boundary wall in front has been lowered to a height of two feet from the ground. And an iron railing about two feet high fixed upon it, connected from each end with the building by side railings, on the outside of which are the paths leading to the schoolrooms. The ground in front will thus be private and Lady Bangor proposes having it laid out as a flower-garden. In order to carry out the work we have detailed, it was necessary that the schools should be closed for a considerable time which we fear has inconvenienced many families, but we are sure that all will agree that the improvements which have been made, fully compensate for the inconvenience which as been suffered. The patron and patroness look with confidence to the teachers, parents and children to co-operate cordially with them in making the schools in Ballyculter patterns of discipline, punctuality, order and regularity. S.R.W.

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NB. A reminder at the bottom of the page of Home Words says: “The improvements in Ballyculter School houses have been most efficiently carried out by Mr George Stockdale, builder, Downpatrick”.

The magazine Home Words. Arrangements have been made in London for binding the year’s numbers at wholesale price of (one shilling). All readers desiring to have their numbers bound to send them to Castleward Downpatrick with money enclosed. The twelve monthly numbers must be tied together and owner’s name and address written on the title page. They are to have attractive cloth covers with gilt letters, ornamental design and parish title on cover. A Harvest Thanksgiving Service was held in the Parish Church of Ballyculter. The Church was neatly decorated with suitable texts, fruit and flowers. The sermon was preached by the Rev. T.J. Welland. The collection amounted to £12-12s which was given to the India Famine Relief. We acknowledge the sum of £1-2s-6d from the labours of Castleward demesne. 16s from Killough subscribed by the children of Lord Bangor’s School there. End of Year 1877. Comments:- On Ballyculter School. It is interesting to note the builders were Mr George Stockdale. The family name of Stockdale is still in Ballyculter today. The school was built in 1823 by Lord Bangor as a voluntary one and the Trust headed by Lord Bangor and his successors provided the money. Then sometime later the Educational Committee contributed to the funding. The improvements must have been around 18771878 some 55 years later. It certainly has stood the test of time. For 60 years

Ballyculter School 38

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afterwards a number of us in Inverbrena History Group here, went as pupils in the 1940’s and 1950’s. It still had the same layout as quoted in Home Word’s except for a few divisions of one classroom during the war years when the pupils increased with the evacuation of children from the towns to the country. It remained so until Ballyculter P.E.S. closed in 1969. It is now a private residence with the garden, that the late Lady Bangor attended to, still as lovely kept by the present owners. The stone fence around the school yard and the stile at the upper end of the playground are there also. And the Chestnut trees still remain, except one that grew near the girls porch had to be taken down. The seat, naturally made of rock, at the back wall of the playground, seated five small pupils is still there. The playground is a lawn now and the iron railings around the front garden have gone. They were a big hazard; many a pupil climbed over when the ball went out of play only to have the seat of his pants ripped. So Stockdales the builders work, certainly stood the test of time. Isobel Magee.

The Life of St. Patrick

as serialised in Homewords Parish Magizine - January 1877. It is now our purpose to give an account of one who has deservedly been called the ‘Apostle of Ireland’, as it will, it is hoped be seen by the brief history which we trust may appear in successive numbers to the readers of our Magazine. As he was closely connected both in his life and works with our own county and the adjoining one of Armagh, we think it may excite not a small amount of interest to obtain some authentic information of the true St. Patrick. Most of the popular accounts of this great man are purely legendary and do him serious injustice; enlarging chiefly upon miracles and wonders of an absurdly sensational character, which were invented merely to suit the public taste of various ages. His own works, however, in their purity and simplicity, prove him to have been a faithful single minded, and devoted preacher of the Gospel; exhibiting him in the true light of a Christian missionary, and as such well is he fitted for what St. Paul exhorts Timothy to be, - “example of the believers, in word, in spirit, in faith, in purity”. But little is known of the real life of St. Patrick, though endless traditions abound, but the few facts which are received suffice to give an idea of his origin, and an outline of his labours in Ireland in the fifth century. In his confession (or declaration), he mentions that when sixteen years of age he lived at a place called Bannaven Taberniae, supposed to be the present Dumbarton in Scotland, and that he was sadly deficient both in piety and knowledge. There is much difference as to the place of his birth A.D. 372 or 373, so that we cannot arrive at any certainty with regard to such. Some say he was born in Scotland, others in Cornwall; whilst many think, in the north of France. Three of his ancestors had been in holy orders, - Calpornius his father a deacon; his grandfather Potitus, a priest, son of Odipus also deacon. Though at first a slave in Ireland St. Patrick was freeborn of Christian parents as his descent proves, and besides this fact we know that the Scotic (Irish) princes would have despised the teaching of a slave. We may observe that Ireland was called Scotia and the people Scots from the end of the third century until 39

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the beginning of the eleventh. “It was,” an ancient historian says “properly the country of the Scots”. The Scoti were the rulers and the Hiberneginac composed the mass of the people. The Scoti were a colony from Spain and are said by the Irish bards to have settled in Ireland in the year 1000B.C. led by the sons of Golane Miled i.e. Miles, or Knight, from whom they are popularly called Milesians. St. Patrick’s original name was Sucat, signifying god of war, but he assumed the Latin one of Patricius, (Patrician was a title borne by the descendants of the Roman senators) by which he was known in his missionary travels amongst the far-off Celtic tribes of Ireland. In his sixteenth year he was taken captive A.D. 388 or 389, by some Irish pirates, and sold for a slave to a Pagan prince in the north of Ireland, which circumstance he alludes to in his confession as a just judgement from God for turning astray from Him. He was for six years retained in slavery by Milchu the chieftain of North Dalaradia, near Slemish, in county Antrim.

February 1877 When alluding to his time of slavery (in the county of Antrim) St. Patrick says: “The Lord then brought me to a sense of my unbelief, that I might even at a late season call my sins to remembrance; and turn with all my heart to the Lord my God who, taking pity on my youth and ignorance, guarded me before I knew Him or could understand anything, and strengthened and comforted me as a father does his son”. Further on, he says, speaking of the goodness of the Almighty to him “I was employed every day in feeding cattle, and frequently in the day I used to have recourse to prayer and the love of God was thus growing stronger and stronger and this fear and faith were increasing in me”. He escaped from Ireland and returned to his parents, but had no peace whilst reflecting on the sad conditions of the Irish heathen. He had no occasion to return to Ireland except the gospel and its promises: but these he could not resist, the language of Holy Scripture urging this mission so strongly upon him. Having had no opportunity for education in his younger days St. Patrick felt it now the more needful to apply himself with diligence to such studies as might be needful to him in his serious undertaking. We are informed that he placed himself under the care of Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, in France, directing his mind to the learning of the Holy Scriptures and also that he studied with St. Martin, Bishop of Tours, and was made by these prelates deacon and afterwards priest. He thence travelled to the south of France, where he remained for some time in the island of St. Honorat (formerly called Lerius), in the Tuscan Sea, with the monks of a celebrated collegiate institution. It is uncertain by whom St. Patrick was ordained bishop but some of the earliest accounts say it was by Amathorex, a bishop in Gaul, as doubtless he started on his missionary wanderings from that county. Long after his escape from slavery he fulfilled his desire of coming to preach to the Irish A.D. 432, and brought many companions to assist him in his work. He touched first at the mouth of the Vartrey River in county of Wicklow, but meeting here with opposition from the pagans he sailed northward to the province of Ulster, where he before had been a captive. He entered the mouth of Strangford Lough (in the county of Down), and passing where now are Audleys and Welshestown castles, steered westwards between the Laushags and Salt and Gore’s island, till he came to a little inlet or estuary opposite to where Mr Keown’s house now stands. The spot where he rested on disembarking was called Brena, afterwards Ballybren, and now Ballintogher, a townland in the parish of Saul. The creek which his boat entered on landing is formed by a stream called the Slany beside the headland of Ringbane. The Book of Armagh calls this creek Fretum 40

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Brennese, and the mouth of the little stream Ostium Slainge. St. Patrick now began to preach with great success and gained numerous converts to the faith in this part of the North of Ireland. He however, reproached himself for having once fled from his master Milchu, and determined to offer him a double ransom, namely an earthly one – in money and goods; and a spiritual one – by making known to him the gospel of salvation. March 1877 Whilst journeying onwards and not far from his landing place (Ballintogher) St. Patrick made his first convert to Christianity, and it is very probable that his subsequent attachment to this neighbourhood, including Down and Saul parishes, arose from the favourable reception he met with here at the opening of his missionary labours in Ireland. He and his fellow-workers were frequently treated as enemies, and almost met with death, but Dichu (the Scoti or Irish convert above alluded to) prince of this territory, shielded and received them. He forewith displayed his zeal for the good cause by having a church provided for the benefit of those of his subjects who like himself had adopted the Christian faith by means of St. Patrick’s ministry. This church is said to have been called Patrick’s Barn and was afterwards named Sabhall or Saul. St. Patrick continued his journey on foot in search of his former master, but his pious endeavours proving unsuccessful with the latter, he returned to the county Down. Having sown the good seed in Ulster he determined to visit the residence of the Irish kings at Tara, in Meath, and there to preach Christianity. He reached this locality on the eve of Easter, and the first contest between Christianity and Druidism in Ireland then commenced in the following manner:- St. Patrick lighted the paschal fire on the hill of Slane to celebrate, but the Pagan law was, that “Whosoever kindled one before the King’s fire appeared on the hill of Tara, that soul should be cut-off from the people”. The Druids thus detected rivalry, and declared that “the fire should be extinguished, else it would get the better of their fires and bring about the downfall of their kingdom”. But St. Patrick strengthened himself from above and even rejoiced at the idea of appearing before the king and preaching the gospel in his presence. It was then he composed his Irish hymn, which he sang on entering the palace to show the spectators on what foundation his courage was placed, but he succeeded not in convincing the king although some of his subjects received the glad tidings. From Tara St. Patrick started for the distant lands of the West in the direction of Killala near the Atlantic, and many were the hardships endured and the perils encountered on the way thither by this noble missionary. He is said to have “penetrated the hearts of all in these wild regions, leading them cordially to embrace the Christian faith and doctrines”. After his stay in Connaught, returning through Ulster and Meath he visited Leinster (A.D. 442 or 443), carrying on his work here with great success. The princes of the country accepted his religion and encouraged the spread of it amongst their subjects. After some time spent in these parts he directed his steps towards Munster, first visiting Cashel, the royal residence of this province. Angus, the prince of the latter, soon became a convert, and joined St. Patrick in settling the state of the Church in his kingdom. After completing his mission in Munster, he went to the Abbey of Saul, in Down; here, in the place where success first crowned his labours St. Patrick brought them to a close, and after having founded (A.D. 455) the cathedral church of Armagh, he spent his latter days in retirement. He died on the 17th of March hence the origin of the commemoration of that day from time immemorial; but the year 41

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of his death is uncertain, though generally supposed to have been A.D. 492. April 1877 Concluding notes on the Life of St. Patrick:It is believed that St. Patrick returned as a missionary to Ireland, when sixty years of age, but the exact date is not known. Although Armagh, on account of its local importance at this early period was selected to be the seat of Primacy and has always been regarded as the principal church in Ireland, it was not the place where St. Patrick ended his days, not where his remains were interred. As before mentioned, he breathed his last at Saul, and the cleric who administered the dying rites to him was St.Tassack of Raholp, a place near at hand. The Armagh clergy made an effort to convey St. Patrick’s remains for interment to their own church but were unsuccessful and the churchyard of Downpatrick became the depository of such, until in after times his bones were disinterred for the purpose of being enshrined, and eventually were scattered and disappeared. We thus learn that in the parish of Saul (adjoining our own of Ballyculter) this great and faithful preacher of the Gospel passed to his rest, his unwearied zeal never having ceased from the date of his return to Ireland until the day of his death. The closing sentence of the Confession of St. Patrick may be considered as a brief summary of the true purpose of his life. He says, “Behold, again and again I briefly set forth the words of my confession. I bear witness in truth and joy of heart, before God and his Holy Angels, that I never had any occasion, except the Gospel and its promises, to return to that nation from which at first I escaped with difficulty. But I pray those who believe in, and fear God, whoever may vouchsafe to look into or receive this writing which I Patrick the sinner and unlearned, wrote in Ireland, that no one may ever say that my ignorance is to have the credit of it, if I have proved any little matter according to the will of God. But do you judge, and let it be most firmly believed, that it was the gift of God. And this is my confession before I die”.

The Legend of the:- Castlemahon Flat Stone.

On Seamus McMullan’s farm in Castlemahon lies a flat stone of a large size, half way up the mountain. Now this stone is alongside a river in marshy ground. Some have tried to remove it mechanically but to no avail so the river had to be diverted around the stone. We are told the legend is:- That St. Patrick and his followers were preaching around the mountains of Lecale, when he met up with another preacher and his followers, also preaching to the people. When they met they had an argument on a certain point. St. Patrick became angry and said to the other preacher, “When you die you will burn in hell for misleading the people” so they parted. Now sometime after, this preacher died and his followers said “Where shall we bury him”? “Somewhere on a mountain and somewhere high up”! So this is where he is buried – high up on Castlemahon Mountain where he cannot be removed or burned. So the legend says? (This is how it was told to me by Seamus).

I.M.

Home Words print of cover photocopied by G. McKibben. Compiled by Isobel Magee. Photo of Ballyculter School Children lent by the Seeds Family. Photo of Ballyculter School taken by Mona Cooper, Ottawa, Canada. 42

•  • The Strange Powers of Frank Kane and Vincent Curran by W. Crea.

I have been told many times that these two boys could find old unseen building foundations by using a piece of copper wire. As they both live locally; Frank at the back of the Wall and Vincent on the Pea Hill at the Scadden, Brian Fitzsimons agreed to set up a demonstration one evening in a field at Tullyratty where I knew there had been old buildings forty years ago but now no trace remained for the field had been cropped many times since. I knew that neither Frank nor Vincent was aware that any foundations existed. So an evening was arranged to meet at the site at seven thirty up the dead end road opposite Banaghan road. Colly Holland was building a wall along this wee road and the three cars passed him waving recognition. I was the last on the scene and seeing the puzzled look on Collie’s face, I stopped and wound down my window. “What’s on up there this evening anyway”?, enquired Colly,“is there a disco or a wake”? I said I wasn’t sure but if he heard any music to come on up. I motored on to the demonstration. Frank produced his instrument, a piece of L shaped copper wire; one leg was about Vincent Curran twenty-four inches long and the other about six inches. He grasped the short side in both hands with the long piece sticking out in front horizontally. I showed him the ground where the foundations might be (giving nothing away). After walking about fifteen feet the long section of the wire turned at right angles. “That’s a corner”, said Frank. He turned a right angle and the wire turned straight in front of him again. He walked on about ten feet and it turned again. He followed the direction of the wire again and completed a rectangle pinpointing a doorway on his journey. I watched in astonishment whilst Brian measured the foundations. The building had been nineteen feet by seventeen with a room inside eight feet by seventeen. I asked Frank how he knew he could do this. He said he discovered it from Paddy Fitzsimons, Brian’s father. I have seen Paddy divining an underground water source with a hazel forked stick and also with a silver watch. Brian didn’t know how his father came to realise his abilities and the mystery remained. Now,Vincent Curran, not to be outdone, took the wire and set out on a different direction and by the same method found another set of foundations, measuring twenty one feet by fourteen and containing four doorways and four rooms. All this mystery set off much discussion and Brian was asked to try his hand. He followed the instructions with great care. He walked and he walked, he turned and he turned, but no response whatsoever. There was now much discussion as to why Brian was a failure. After much deliberation it was concluded that Brian must have been programmed to a much higher plane than the rest of us and that foundation finding was unworthy of inclusion. We were preparing to go home when 43

Frank said “You have a go Willie”. I protested that I had no abilities like this. They persisted and having nothing to lose, I agreed. I grasped the wire very tightly, hoping to stop it turning even if it wanted to do so. Ah’m damned if it didn’t work for me too! I did my best to stop it turning but it would have taken the skin off my hands if I had persisted. I came home in greater wonderment than ever.

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Frank Kane

Now another interesting character enters the scene, George Jackson ,who had emigrated to Vancouver in 1955, was home on holiday and at the young age of 93 was very interested when heard about Frank Kane and his foundations Now George himself also had some strange talents. He could divine a water supply with a accuracy in two ways, with a forked hazel twig and also with a silver watch. He wanted to see Frank Kane finding these foundations so he prevailed upon Leslie Mc Kibben to bring him to see him. Frank produced his copper rod and performed to perfection. George was very impressed and asked if he could try. George grasped the copper rod and it turned strongly whenever he encountered a foundation (invisible to him). George was delighted at this discovery and then revealed that he had another “gift”. He asked for a needle and thread and revealed that he could tell the sex of an unborn child. Unfortunately there were no pregnancies that they were aware of to set up a demonstration, so he made Leslie bare his forearm. He now explained that if the unborn child was female the needle would swing in circles and if was a male it would oscillate pendulum fashion. He now suspended the needle above Leslie’s forearm and, as anticipated, it swung swung back and forward thus confirming what most of already knew that Leslie was a male. It was a pity that his demonstration on Leslie was only a substitute for the real thing; but George assured his audience that it had worked without fail on many pregnancies back in Vancouver. George was pleased with his evening and returned to Vancouver having enjoyed his holiday, discovered that he had one more strange power to show his friends.

Recording of Local Place Names By Alan Johnston

There is a wealth of local place names in and around Strangford, which do not appear on any map. Some are familiar, some less so and many have facinating derivations often linked to personalities or happenings of the past. It would be a sad loss to coming generations if these were simply to disappear either from a lack of usage or from older folk not having passed them on to their offspring. Fortunatly there are plenty of younger 44

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people who have at least some interest in their local history but there are probably even more who at present are not interested. But that can change. The task of recording information on place names within Strangford and in the radius of some 5 miles has already been started before they might disappear from people’s memories. The information gleaned is being recorded on maps and it is planned to complete this as far as possible within the coming year. So, if you were born and bred in the area or if you are interested as an incomer (as I have become over the past 20 years) then please contact by telephone, 44881250, and we can arrange to meet and exchange information, whilst recording on a map what your contribution might be, with seperate listings of origins of place names. At some point during 2004 a meeting may be called with a view to sharing and corroborating information gathered up to that point. Perhaps next years’s issue of this journal might then record the findings. In the meanwhile I would welcome any comments on the subject. 28.10.03

The McKibbins in New Zealand Ronald and Rhoma Buchanan

Emigration has long been a feature of life in Ireland, and many of us have relatives living abroad, especially in North America. The McKibbins of Ballyculter are different; their relatives went to New Zealand, and when Leslie McKibbin heard that my wife and I were planning to go there with a party of members of the Ulster New Zealand Trust, he asked us if we could find the family graves, in “ a place called Arrowtown”. May Johnston, a neighbour in Strangford, had visited Arrowtown a year previously but had been unable to track them down. Our trip began in Christchurch, the largest city in South Island, situated in the famous sheep country of the Canterbury Plains, and close to the east coast. Later we were to travel to North Island, with its volcanoes and hot springs, and Auckland, with its beautiful bay, setting for the America’s Cup yacht race, held just a few weeks before our arrival. South Island is very different, slightly cooler, and with a high chain of rugged mountains along its western coast. Here are snow-capped peaks, deep fjords and glaciers, and well inland, to the east of the mountain crest, is Arrowtown, situated in the valley of the Arrow River and surrounded by an upland plateau. Much of this higher land is open grazing and scrub, tawny brown with the approach of autumn Ronnie and Rhoma Buchanan when we came here in late February; 45

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but the lower hill slopes and valley bottom are well-farmed, in a landscape of enclosed fields and scattered homesteads. It is an attractive countryside, much like home and hard to imagine that little more than a century ago it was scarcely inhabited, its woods and rivers used by the native Maoris for seasonal hunting and fishing. Arrowtown proved to be a small town, not much bigger than Strangford, with a scatter of modern homes along the road to Queenstown.The houses are built of timber, the older with horizontal cladding, painted white or in attractive pastel shades of light green, gray and blue; roofs are mainly corrugated iron, unusual to our eyes but common in New Zealand. The streets in the older part of town are tree lined, and the shops, few in number, have verandahs covering the pavement and proving shelter from summer sun and winter snow. Walking into town is rather like entering the set for a Wild West film; the comparison is apt, for Arrowtown began as a gold-mining camp, its first buildings erected soon after gold was found in the Arrow River in l862. A year after the initial discovery 2000 miners lived in the vicinity and 6000 ounces of gold were being shipped by pack animals to Dunedin and other eastern ports. Most of the miners came from the goldfields in Victoria and southern Australia, and from California and Montana in the U.S.A., where the famed gold –rushes occurred a decade earlier. Some were Chinese who lived in a small community on the edge of town, still known as Chinese Village. Within twenty years mining had finished, but a permanent settlement had been established, acting as a service centre for the farmers who came after the miners, and cleared the woodland and scrub for cultivation. The first crop, a two-acre paddock of oats, was harvested in l862, and was sold for £42! By the 1870ies Arrowtown had three churches, Anglican, Presbyterian, and Roman Catholic; and it had a cemetery, built high on the hillside on the edge of town. Here we started our search for the McKibbins, the group spilling out of the coach and fanning out across the graveyard; it wasn’t long before the cry went up:” Here they are!” Our explorers had spotted three headstones, the largest and most prominent in the cemetery, placed along the boundary wall at its highest point. The most marked the grave of William McKibbin: “Native of Marshall Town, Downpatrick, County Down, Ireland, and late of Crown Terrace and Dunedin. Arrived New Zealand 1868, and died 10 October 1942 Aged 87 years.” Alongside were the graves of William’s two brothers, Henry and John, and members of the family. But how had they come to be buried on this remote hillside, so very far from home? Unfortunately there is very little information among the surviving relatives in Ballyculter. The last contact was a letter to Leslie from William’s grandniece, Elaine Hamilton, who had written following a visit from Mrs. Martin Lowe in l979. She wrote:” We were very pleased to hear there are so many young McKibbins coming on. I’m afraid we are finished in New Zealand.” Elaine had one son, John; she was about 50 when the letter was written, and sadly we didn’t have enough time to see if she is still alive; she seems to have lived in Dunedin, but had a holiday home in Arrowtown. . From the information on the gravestones and from Elaine’s letter, it seems that the 46

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three brothers were born on the family farm in Marshallstown in the 1850ies and came to New Zealand six years after the start of the gold rush at Arrowtown. All three were incredibly young: Henry, the eldest, was fifteen, William thirteen and John only nine. They probably landed in Dunedin, some 150 miles from Arrowtown, and continued to have family links there down to the present. At the time of their arrival, Dunedin was already an established though small port, and a centre of Scottish settlement. I imagine the McKibbin brothers must have come to the Arrowtown district some time in the 1870ies, when land was available and steadily being brought into cultivation. Elaine remembered her father saying: “they were wonderful farmers”, but she added “.. the farms were at 2000ft, and they have changed hands many times since”. Apparently they brought out a young man, Joseph Miller, possibly a relative from home, who died at Arrowsmith in the l970ies when he was over ninety. Of the three brothers, John, Elaine’s grandfather, died in 1894 when he was only thirty-five; his daughter, Elaine’s mother, was born that same year. William, the middle brother, was the longest lived, dying in Dunedin in 1942, seven years after his wife, Sarah Frances, who had been born in “Borris Inossory, Queen’s County, Ireland” in 1862. Leslie has a copy of their marriage certificate: her maiden name was Talbot, her father a farmer, and the marriage took place at St. Paul’s Anglican Church in Arrowtown on May 15th 1889. William’s tombstone is the largest in the graveyard, and unlikely though it may seem, Elaine states that“…all three family tombstones were ordered from France before their deaths”. Henry, the eldest of the three, died in Arrowtown in 1923, aged seventy. He seems to have been the most prosperous: he was a JP, a mayor of the town, and owned “shops and land in the main street. A photograph taken when he was in his mid fifties, shows a comfortable figure wearing a well-cut suit, thoughtful and serious in expression, but with laughter lines around his eyes. His wife, Elizabeth, died in 1895 when she was only 32; on their tombstone she is stated to be:“A native of Money Carra, Downpatrick”. Had Henry travelled home to find a bride, or had he met her in New Zealand? We don’t know. The story of the McKibbins of Marshallstown is similar to that of many families in this district and Henry McKibbin elsewhere in Ireland, driven to find new lives overseas Mayor of at a time of agricultural depression, when life on a small Arrowtown farm was especially difficult and there seemed better opportunities elsewhere. But the McKibbins were unusual in two respects, in their age and their choice of destination. It is hard to imagine three young boys, the youngest only nine years old, setting off to such a distant land on their own. Surely they must have travelled in the care of someone from home, or at least, have been met by a relative or friend at the end of their long voyage lasting at least seven or eight weeks. Perhaps that is why they went to New Zealand, for it was the least likely destination for emigrants from County Down at that time. Most emigrants went to the United States and Canada, and some to Australia and within New Zealand the main centre of Ulster immigration was Kati Kati, a fertile district in the aptly named Bay of 49

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Plenty. But whatever the reasons that led them to leave home and settle in Arrowtown, their story is similar to so many families in our district. Most of us have relatives living abroad, and like the McKibbins, many have lost touch across the generations. Others have managed to stay in contact, to their mutual benefit, and with the advantages of modern telecommunications and e-mail it is much easier to do so now. Our group of travellers much enjoyed their encounter in the graveyard: may the readers of this article be encouraged to follow their example, and find descendants of their relatives who left home and found new lives in lands that are not so distant now as once they were.

Danes & Norsemen by Isobel Magee

There is very little historical information about the Danes and Norsemen who came to this district and gave Strangford its name; But 80 years ago, David E. Lowry published a booklet with the title of “Norsemen and Danes of Strangford Lough”. It has been out of print for many years, but the explanation the author gave of some of our local place names and dialect words, are of continuing interest. The following extracts are taken from this booklet. (Reprinted from Proceedings, Session 1925-26 of Belfast Natural History and Philosophical Society with additions and illustrations). Isobel Magee.

Norse names and Islands in Strangford Lough.

As a rule all islands ending in ey, or a, Old Norse for Island, may be taken as dating back to the Scandinavian invasion and in the north west of the Lough these names are most numerous; an island far removed from the entrance to the Lough has a name which well describes it though its derivation is generally assumed to be a botanical one:- Boretree Island.

Bortr-ey – From Norse Bortr far away and ey. An island. Rolly – Rollo’s Island. Rollo very common, Norwegian name, the name of the Conqueror of Normandy. Rollo, son of Earl of More. Thorney – Thorn-ye,Thorn Island - a descriptive name frequently given by Northmen to over-grown islands. Raney. Ran’s island, probably from the dangers of the currents about it. Ran, the SeaGod in whose nets the souls of drowned men were caught or from Rani, a hog-backed hill. Calf Island. Beside Mahee, a small island lying close to a larger one in the Orkneys group there is one, also beside the Isle of Man. 50

Cow and Calf, Kalfr?

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Sheila. Hut island, from Sheil or Shali - a hut, here we have the termination a, often used instead of ey. Scatrick, which name we find in an old deed of gift to Waldron Prior to Nendrum by John Cardinal Legate, as Scatra, possibly the island where the conquered Irish paid their scat or tribute to the Norse conquerors of the district; we have still the phrase, getting off scat or scot free, without having to pay tax or fine. Scattery Island in the river Shannon was probably so named for similar reason. Bradock – Braid ox. Broad axe, describing the shape of the island the only one in the Lough to which the term would apply. Whelp. From Norse Swelp, a young dog. Guns Island – south of Lough. Gunner Island Battle Island, Gunner a battle. Skull-Martin Rock – Rock north of Strangford Lough, from Norse Skull, a skull Masern, a porpoise. The Porpoise skull rock, from a fancied resemblance. Portavogie. Norse Porte, a gate, Vogti guard. The guard gate on the north of the entrance to Lough. Routing Wheels – A whirlpool, between Portaferry and the mouth of the Lough, from Norse rouda, - to snore - a name which exactly describes the sound made by this whirling pool at half tide. Ramharry – Whirlpool off Copeland Islands. Old Norse, Ramm – strong, Hari – rough. Idiomatic Sentences. “Gleg At The Uptak” (of quick perception) Old Norse. Glogg, - clever, clear sighted, Upptaka, - understanding. Lang-Hame Brae. Hill of Killinchy, descending to graveyard. Old Norse, Lang - long; Heim, - home; the hill leading to the long home, - grave. Words and names in general use about Strangford Lough and around East Coast of County Down.

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Local Words and Idioms

Old Norse

Local Words & Idioms

Old Danish

Ram Headstrong Ramm-strong (In a headstrong stuttering way) Stam Stranr-stuttering Toom Empty Tomr Empty (better a toom house than a bad tenant) Rik-rak A mess Rekyr Trouble, spoil Rekless Careless headstrong Reckyr Trouble: Lauss without Ramshackle Mixed up Ramshakkr Crazy, chaotic Rafter A roof support Raftr A roof tree Reek Smoke Reykr Smoke or mist Spor Small bird Sporr Sparrow Tether To tie cattle Tyodra To tether, to tie Thole To endure Thola To endure, to bear Laase To loose Lauss To unfasten Greet To weep Groeta To weep Sprauchle To stumble Sprokla To sprawl, to kick with the feet Squak To shout, to yell Skvakka To bawl Squall To cry or shout Skvall Noisy talk Slither To walk slowly carelessly Slorda To trail oneself along Slag To slash (hatchet) Slag A blow or stroke Shen To climb a tree quickly Skymda To make haste Skrake A screech Skeekr A yell Greith Harness Grefna Accoutrements Balderdash Nonsense Balderdask A rush or noisy nonsense Bairn Child Barn Child Glourin Staring Gleonde Staring

Flit Stour Hand clout Hesp Gowk Nab Rib Smiddy Kitling Groots Greet Dyke Clammer Back-board Board claith 52

To remove Dust Towel Latch (Cuckoo foolish person) To catch To remove Blacksmith shop Young cat Husked corn To weep Ditch To quarrel Bakeboard Tablecloth

Flyt Stor Haandklaede Haspe Gjoge Nappe Rydde Smedie Killing Grudtet korn Groede Dige Klamres Bagebord Bordkloede

To run away Dust Towel Latch Cuckoo To hold To remove Blacksmith shop Young cat Husked corn To weep A bank Noisy fight Bakeboard Table cover

Greipe Mire-Snipe

Dung fork Snipe

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Mogreve (mog-dung) Dung fork Myri-snipa Snipe

Cormorant – On the north coast of Antrim the old Norse name Skarf is still preserved, and used instead of Cormorant. Skart A cormorant Skarfr A cormorant Sark A shirt Serkr A shirt Spell A turn a share (work) Spjall A part a share Sti Brae Steep hill Stegi A ladder, a steep climb Braut A road (a ladder like hill) Slocken To quench thirst Slokna To extinguish Skrog A low wood thicket Skogr A wood Skelly To squint Skialgi To squint BlAeberry Mountain berry Blabber The blueberry (Myrtellus) Bilberry Blather Blether to Bladr To speak inaccurately talk nonsense Dree To endure (to dree Drygja Verdr To expatiate fate, one’s weird) to endure one’s fate Quern Stone hand mill Kvern A stone mill Hale Hearty Heill Healthy, sound Til Meaning unto Til To (instance: “You must not mention it til him”) Poke Bag (a pig in a poke) Poki (swein in poki) Ar A sCar Ar-scar A mark of wound Hair-kame Haircomb Harkamr Hair comb Mirk Darkness Myrkr Darkness Stane Stone Steinr Stone Stra Straw Stra Straw Full Drunk Tullr Drunk Riff raff Common rascals Rifr robber

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•  • The Labourers’ Cottages of Lecale c.1900 by Sheila Campbell

Until a few years ago when the last of the original ‘labourer’s cottages’ was demolished, the traveller in the Lecale area could not have failed to notice the neat little homes that fronted the roads and laneways and speckled the drumlin sides. The design was of childlike simplicity – a door between two windows on one side, and one on the other. Two chimneys straddled the roof ridge. The front door led straight into the kitchen/living room. A tiny pantry lighted by a small window on the back wall held the cooking utensils and crockery and buckets of Susan Bell’s Cottage, water which had to be drawn from a Ringwoody C1900 nearby well or, for the more fortunate, a pump in the yard. All ablutions both domestic and personal had to be performed in the kitchen. Three bedrooms opened out of the kitchen also. They contained a bed, but there was space for little else – perhaps a chair. Clothes were hung on the back of the door. Electricity arrived in the late 50’s and “we had light to light our lamps by.” The designer was Eddie Nolan, county engineer and originally from Kerry who won a competition for the best design for a labourer’s cottage. The original plans hung with pride above the sideboard of his home at the Quoile, Downpatrick where he lived with his wife Rita (my grandaunt) and seven children from the late 1880’s till his early death at the age of 47. After the famine and subsequent emigration,Victorian social consciences woke up to the terrible housing conditions in the country. Some people began to propound the need for landlords to provide new and better cottages for their tenants. In 1883 a Parnellite introduced as a private member’s bill, the first of the Labourers (Ireland) Acts, and the principle was established that public authorities had a part to play. The original idea was that each cottage should have an acre of land, but to this the farmers objected violently, both to the loss of so many acres, and to the fact that the labourers were inclined to spend more time on Renovation 1967 Kearney’s, Ballynarry Four Roads their own land than on ill-paid service; 54

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so the plot was reduced from an acre to an mere rood. By 1906 the cost of building a cottage was £150. Brian Fitzsimmons of Tullyratty describes the construction as follows: “Built of stone or brick, the cottages had a kitchen/livingroom with a small scullery, three bedrooms, two at one end and a larger one at the other. Bedrooms had wooden floors. Living room and scullery had clay tiles 12” square and 2” thick. Front and back there was a full and half door. The windows were fully sashed and paned – four at the top and eight at the bottom. The hip roof was constructed with Bangor blue slates and red terracotta ridge tiles. There were two red brick chimneys each with two flues serving the bedrooms, each of which had a metal fireplace across the corner, and the kitchen with its open fireplace, hob on each side and crook on which the kettle was hung. This fireplace was often replaced later with a “Modern Mistress” range. The bedroom doors were ledged and sheeted, with a rim lock and brass knobs. The exterior was rendered and pebble-dashed. Those that were brick-built had red quoins at the corners and around the windows. The guttering was cast iron, and short pipes back and front drained rain water into stone butts. This water was used for washing. There was a small open shed and dry toilet at the rear with a corrugated iron roof pitched to the front. Most of the cottages had a wrought iron gate. Given that 50 years before in 1860 there were reportedly 600,000 people living in mud cabins in Ireland, these little cottages must have seemed palaces. They were built around 1900-1915 for farm workers on 1/2 acre of land enabling the family to grow vegetables. They were not usually available to fishermen, though Margaret Gill of Ballyhornan reckons that her father’s friendship with Eddie Nolan secured one for her family. Willie Crea recalls that the Aberdeen brick to build the cottages came from the Clyde in Scotland in “puffers” – single cylinder engined, flat bottomed boats. They beached on full tide in Ballyhornan, unloaded their cargo on the sand and floated off on the ebb tide. Horses and carts had to take the bricks away before the next full tide. Extract from Bill McStay’s memories: “Our front door carried in its upper centre the brass numerals 385 and about halfway down its length had a solid block of wood sloped on the outside, nailed across its width. This prevented rain from trickling down between the main door and the parallel half-door on its outer side. Half-doors were a common sight in the country then, but belong to an Ireland that has gone. The half-door was severely practical. It permitted the main door to be left open in good weather, increased the amount of natural light in the kitchen, was useful for leaning on to chat with a passerby, and prevented the hens, except for an occasional adventurous one, from wandering into the house. It did not prove a similar deterrent to the cat, who could surmount the barrier with an agile leap. To unlatch the half-door (for the big door stood open even on the coldest of days), and to step into our kitchen you had entered the working and living centre of the house. You were in a room about 15 feet square. It had a good amount of natural light from the windows back and front and from the half-door. Just as well, for the lamp wouldn’t be lit until the room was bathed in a half-light relieved only by the glow of the fire. The fire was in the centre of the left-hand wall, set into a fireplace with two vertical 55

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panels on either side. The whole was surmounted by a mantelpiece which was a simple shallow shelf about eye-level height. All around its front edge ran a decorative brass strip, held in place by nails at three inch intervals. I remember it so clearly because a regular daily chore consisted of applying Brasso to eliminate finger prints, and then polishing the whole thing with a soft cloth which soon turned black from the process. It was worth the effort, for the brass gleamed satisfactorily when the lamplight or a stray sunbeam caught it. On top of the mantelpiece at either end stood two white delph dogs, of a kind to be found in every neighbouring household, turning their unwavering gaze towards the middle of the room. When I refer to the fire I don’t mean an open fire, for we didn’t have one. Other cottages did though, and how I envied those that did. Not only did they cast their heat into the whole room but they cheered it with their flickering, dancing flames. Not only that but they gave enough light that the weekly Down Recorder could be perused by the light from the hearth. And in these fortunate houses another pleasure was the comforting sputter from the big logs which could be laid right across the hearth and sizzle away for most of a night. Turf would have made a great fire but it didn’t exist in our part of Down. In fact, the first time I ever saw turf was in the Donegal Gaeltacht when I was sixteen. Instead of an open fire, which would have made not only a kettle but my heart sing, we had a cast-iron range rejoicing in the name of “The Modern Mistress”. This was a squat construction requiring liberal doses of blacklead to make it look half-presentable. It coyly concealed the actual fire from your casual gaze, so that you had to peer through a grille about a foot square to detect the glowing innards. Logs didn’t fit into this narrownecked and narrow-minded beast. It refused anything approaching a log with a kind of dumb insolence, exhibiting that cussedness of all inanimate things. It really would accept only coal or slack, and then only through a moveable lid about the size of a dinner plate. The kitchen furnishings were simple in the extreme. The floor was made up of large flags of stone, though almost the entire area was covered with linoleum. My job from quite an early age was to attend to the daily household chores, whenever my mother was out working. She was out often so I became quite expert as a deputy. When I would arrive from school, there was the Modern Mistress to be cajoled for she was the key to the next task. When some hot water was available from m’lady’s condescension, there were the morning’s dishes to wash, beds to make, furniture to dust and the floor to be polished. I took pleasure in this last operation, for when the polish had been well rubbed in and a good shine applied, the gleam and the fragrant smell contributed to a sense of well-being. The pantry opened from the kitchen’s north-west corner (remember my compass reference?) and was about 10 feet by 4. Certainly two people couldn’t pass in what was really a cul-de-sac ending in an outside wall lighted by a small window. Under the window stood a low table, and here reposed our two buckets of water. At a glance it was clear when it was time again to fetch more water. The pantry’s furnishings were completed by two wooden shelves along the wall which was the back wall of the cottage. Here were the pots, pans, plates, cups and other utensils needed for cooking and eating. You couldn’t wash the dishes here, for there wasn’t enough room. You couldn’t wash or 56

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shave here for the same reason. So what you couldn’t do in the pantry you had to do in the kitchen. The back door of the house opened out of the pantry. That meant that if someone was getting a drink whilst someone else was opening the back door to go out, the drinker stayed a prisoner until the door was shut again. Three bedrooms opened out of the kitchen also, at the north-east south-east and south-west corners. These rooms contained a bed each and not much else for want of space. You went to bed in the dark, unless you went early enough to avail of the still burning kitchen lamp. A lamp in the bedroom wouldn’t have been thought of, because of the danger of it “cowping” over, and also because it was considered an extravagance. So reading in bed was just not possible, and maybe that’s why in adult life the few pages before switching off the light is a nightly and enjoyable ritual. The other kitchen fittings were as satellites to the dominant MM. A kitchen table sat against the north wall. Covered most of the time in brightly-coloured oilcloth, which was taken off when baking or washing needed to be done, it was revealed unclothed to be a whitish colour from constant scrubbing. A couple of chairs stood at each narrow end, augmented when necessary by additional chairs from round the room. Place of honour, squarely in front of the fire was given to a battered armchair. By unspoken convention this was reserved for my father when he came home from work and settled to a nap or the weekly Recorder. Directly across from the fire was a sideboard, running almost the whole length of the east wall. This was a massive piece of furniture, more suited to a Victorian drawing room than our small kitchen. It must have been acquired from an auction or maybe handed on by one of my mother’s employers. It certainly wasn’t always there, for its predecessor was a traditional dresser of a type very common in rural households of the period. It had cupboards along the bottom, and ranged along the top shelf were large plates partly functional and partly decorative. One of these was the Willow Pattern plate, part of a set which seemed to crop up in all houses around. In glazed blue and white, it told in pictures the willow pattern story, in which oriental ladies in kimonos crossed little bridges or waved their fans underneath stylised cherry trees as delicate birds twittered overhead. Our sideboard was of dark polished wood, with three commodious and constantly used cupboards comprising the bottom section. Immediately above that was a split level surface, with its middle section about six inches below the polished wooden surfaces to either side. This lower surface was a glazed and speckled tile which could be washed with a damp cloth. It was backed by a large mirror in which you could see reflected the fire behind you, or your own head and shoulders if you wanted to admire them! In the days when we had only a paraffin lamp, it stood on this glazed surface. Its weak light didn’t carry to every part of the room, so when the time came when I had to do “serious” homework, I did it at the sideboard near the lamp. What an inconvenience my nightly chores must have been to everybody else in the kitchen! The wireless must have been silent, conversation must have been muted, and nobody else must have been able to read, with me monopolising the lamplight. Underneath the front window of the kitchen sat a sofa which you could touch with your left hand as you came in through the front door. It was covered with a tartan-type 57

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loose cloth which in the nature of such things was always creasing and slipping. After his dinner was over and he had smoked a pipeful of tobacco, my father would quite often adjourn to the sofa for a nap. He wasn’t the only one. It was a great place for cocking your ear to the wireless nearby, and often the comfortable posture induced its inevitable consequence. One convenience we didn’t have was a bath, for anyway there was not water supply. You made what shift you could with a tin bath and mostly cold water, maybe de-iced a little bit with a kettle of hot water. The other picture, in the bedroom where I slept was a cheap print which you saw repeatedly in Catholic houses of the time, probable a relic of a long ago Mission in the Parish. It was a coloured drawing and was entitled “Mass in the Penal Days”. The scene depicted a priest in full vestments standing at a Mass rock in a winter landscape. Huddled at his feet was a ragged group of worshippers. At the edge of the print a patrol of redcoats was heading in the direction of the group, obscured from the Mass gathering by the snowy hills lying between them. Between worshippers and soldiers was a running man, arm upraised in warning. The viewer was left to speculate on the outcome of the impending threat. Many a time I did as I studied the well-known scene. Would the priest be spirited away in time? Would the yeomanry level their muskets and discharge a murderous fire? Would the snow soon run red with martyrs’ blood (for I knew what side I was on, and held out little hope that the defenceless peasants could all make good their escape)? This then completes the recollection of my boyhood home. One last image. It is of the large dried fish which hung from a nail on the pantry door. It was hard, flat, and about the size of a half newspaper page. It was called ling. If you fancied a piece between meals you hacked it off with a knife, and roasted it at the bars of the range just as you would a slice of bread for toasting. When cooked to your satisfaction it was utterly delicious. I’ve never since come across ling in that natural form.” Until the 1950’s water had to be carried from the nearest well for those who were not fortunate enough to have a pump in the yard. Electricity arrived in the late 50’s and “we had light to light our lamps by”. In the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s many homes added an extra wing at the back making an L-shaped sheltered yard. Some added porches and later, conservatories. Central heating arrangements greatly improved comfort in our time.

Francis Joseph Bigger, the Belfast antiquarian describes romantically his ideal cottage. “It should be whitewashed inside as well as out – wallpaper should be avoided. A few Irish pictures and Gaelic mottoes go far to make the home bright and attractive. There should be in all cases a half-door. The washing-up is usually done in a bucket or basin on a large stool or low table, and the contents thrown out as soon as the work is done. This is cleaner and never so unwholesome as a sink”. He built three pairs of model cottages near Glengormley of which one survives almost unchanged. Instead of wasting money on bathroom, lavatory, cooker or kitchen sink, he installed a panel of Celtic interlace in the porch with door furnishings hand-made by local craftsmen. It is not recorded whether he actually lived for any length of time in such a cottage”.

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In 1915 Eddie Nolan built the “Bungalow” at Killard for his family to enjoy summer holidays. Sadly he died the following year. Generations of his descendents are still enjoying Killard, despite the attractions of warmer and more exotic holiday destinations now available.

75 years later in 1990, his great grand niece Fionnuala Cregan, ending a school essay at the age of 13 writes; “If passers-by looked in the window of the Bungalow they would see a musty, old untidy looking house. Little would they know it holds a host of happy childhood memories, those memories The Bungalow at Killard. belonging to me”. I’m sure she speaks for many who knew and loved the local “labourers’ cottages”.

1999 replacement cottage at Ballynarry four roads, now owned by Noel & Mary Kearney 59

•  • Una Burnett records some of her memories on tape (transcribed by Peig Denvir).

I wasn’t very old at the time Father and Mother brought us round to the ruins of Old Court. My mother told us this was where the drawing room was and this was where the sitting room was. I still have a brass plate; it was a round ornate thing. I lifted it out of the ashes and cleaned it all up. Because I remembered so much I was accused of being nosy or making it all up but there are others can verify what I’ve said! My mother had a sentimental attachment to Old Court in that she had been brought up in Strangford and her father was attached to Lord De Ros family. Father had to go over to England with them sometimes. My father had been to sea and must have been a boat builder. Lord De Ros commissioned him to build a sailing yacht called the “Red Rose” and when the yacht was finished he asked him to sail it over to Strangford. He was later given the job of head boatman so he accepted and brought his family and grandmother over to Strangford. The ‘De Ros’s fixed up a house for them. My father had two big sailing boats to look after, ‘The Red Rose’ and ‘The Mabel’. They had to be moored off the pier at Old Court. There were about 20 boats in the harbour. There was a double boat they used to take out. On one of the yachts it was split in two and then was screwed together, lengthwise. All belonged to De Ros. Boats were used by everyone, they didn’t have motor cars.They were for the staff – to go to Portaferry for messages, provisions etc. My mother rowed across every week for our groceries. She was taught how to row and sail and could have gone anywhere. She taught her son Harry to sail. If I needed anything for my sewing I would row across myself. It wasn’t unusual for women to sail. We were well instructed to know the run of the tide. Regatta times there were rowing races. On one occasion we had to take Isobel Watson who lived at Isle O’Valla, over to Browns of Portaferry for a chest off drawers. She bought and paid for it and thought she’d get McDonnells to bring it home sometime. I suggested I’d get the boat and I’d bring it across. I rowed over to Portaferry and got the men to put it on the boat for me and then on the first of the ebb tide I rowed back to the Black Islands, up to the bridge to her cottage. Taking one drawer at a time was the way we got the chest of drawers from Portaferry to Isle O’Valla! A coastguard left Killard to do his shopping but on his return he must have got caught on one of the ‘routing wheels’ for he was never seen again (about1920’s). Entertainment. Boys played football. Played cricket in Castleward, down off the Buebell Walk ,Lord Bangor encouraged them and they played in a league .John Joe Shields played. After the war it folded. My brother Harry was a star player. Races The gentry had the ”River Class” yachts - Lord Bangor Cook Forde.They had races every Saturday, Castleward to Whiterock. Mother would be away round the avenue watching them coming back from Whiterock. Some sailed over to the Isle of Man, round to Ardglass and Bangor. The “River Class” would travel to Clyde – this is where they originated and were built. Tennis Club at the Rectory. 60

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It was started by Canon Foster, I loved the tennis. We used to go to Balee and Downpatrick had two clubs, Quoile and Cathedral. Played in the Rectory Grounds. They were young and keen to give the youth something to do. Before 1939 earl 30’s. The Golf course was before that.

For well over 30 years my father operated a barber’s shop in the village of Strangford. And for at least half of those years he did his best to encourage me to follow in that trade. But like youth, as always, I was far too restless and impatient; the idea of my being cooped up all day in the same room, especially on a Friday or a Saturday night labouring away dutifully at the patrons’ hairy chins just didn’t appeal to me. Give his due he didn’t give up very easily and would often remind me: “It’s much better than working for the farmer, and I should know. At this job you’ll never get your feet wet.” Despite the prospect of continual dry feet I spurned all association with the razor in this context. However, there was one time in the year when you couldn’t have kept me away from the shop with the barber’s pole, and that was Christmas Eve. From early that evening men and women be arriving in the village to do their shopping and it seemed to me then – and looking back, that thought hasn’t changed – that the people at that time did the maximum amount of purchasing on this day. Into my father’s shop would call the people, in particular old men who perhaps hadn’t been in the village more than once since the previous Christmas. All through the evening and the night they would come to be greeted like long lost brothers.The talk, good talk would be endless. You would hear about big nights at barn dances, great step-dancers, women who were first-class bakers, good butter makers, how to grow your own tobacco, make your own wine, football matches, hurling games, people in America, and the price of drink. There was no end to it. I often thought my father took his time just to ensure that crack would continue on that night uninterrupted. When the head was trimmed and the face maybe shaved and a few coppers handed over to the custodian of the clippers there was always time for a pull of the pipe. Then the patrons would rise, tap out their pipes and walk out into the December night with a cheery salute “Happy Christmas !” Likely then they would join the members of their family for a drink before they would step out with heavily laden baskets towards home; there were no buses or taxis to take the weight of their arms. The nearest thing they would probably use to ease the burden would be the handlebars of a bicycle. I could never quite just realise why I always felt a twinge of sadness when I watched 61

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some of the hearty old men walk out of our home on a Christmas Eve. It was only when I heard the parish priest at that time remark during his sermon at the Christmas Mass, “well we’ve lived through another year, but I wonder how many of us will live to see round again,” that brought it home to me. True enough more often than not when the following Christmas came there was always a well-known face that no longer required a shave. When I was young, as I’m sure it is so with children of to-day, the days before Christmas were full of excitement and hope. Hurried last-minute notes were dispatched to a big toy factory above the clouds and long stockings were sorted out.There was never any trouble getting us off to bed. But sleep didn’t come easy — the mind was far too full of anticipation: time and the sandman, of course, took great care that we got some sleep Looking back it seems to me now that although we never got all, or even half, of the things we prayed, hoped, and wrote for, disappointment was short lived. Once I recall, I must have been going into my teens then, the house was quiet, the rest of the family were in bed and my mother said to me: “You might as well come round the shops with me.” I jumped at this chance to view everything that was on show first hand. Anyhow, as we crossed the street she remarked: “I had to wait until I got the rest to bed; I want to get a few things for their stocking.” Now up to that very moment, I had a very strong belief in the man with the red cloak. All the way around the few shops that there were, my mind was in turmoil, but never once, as the saying goes, did I “let on “ that a great dream had been shattered. From that night onwards the concept of Christmas took on a new and different meaning. As a rule on Christmas morning everything in the house moved in action very early, and although breakfast was a leisurely affair there were still a few hours to go before the event of the day. More often than not my pals and I would meet and if the weather was dry we would go for a long walk. Walking was very much part of our life in the countryside, but on this we generally added a few more miles for good measure and, of course, to while away the hours. Probably we would walk up Chapel Brae over the Pigeon Hill, past the White Houses, through the Clay Hollows along by the Black Islands through Cloughey past the boatbuilders over the Mount and on to Kilclief Castle. If we had still time on our side, we could continue past Buchanan’s Corner, keep King’s blacksmith’s shop on our left through Drumroe and Legnegoppack and up the Brow Hill.Then it was downhill by Creenstown to Blackcauseway and a short canter home. I still get a kick out of these place-names when I hear them used. After dinner we would join forces yet again and we would adjourn to a boat with a cabin which belonged to one of the boys. There we would play forty-five, whist, or pontoon until it was time to go for tea. About 7.30 we would gather with other men and boys who were crossing the ferry for a night at the pictures. By the time we returned to Strangford, Christmas Day had practically gone for yet another year. Our way of spending the holiday was simple and uncomplicated, but we certainly enjoyed what we had.

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