Inverbrena 2006

Strangford 2006

Memories from Inverbrena

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.

After the outstanding success of our 2005 effort and the high demand from an enthusiastic public, we feel encouraged and renewed. Therefore it was with great verve that we embarked upon the work for the 2006 magazine.

It has been difficult to gather a similar collection of photographs this year but we tried and I think you will appreciate our industry.

We need an influx of new blood and I would be delighted to see a big increase in our membership during my year in the chair. Please feel free to attend any or all of our meetings, on the 3rd Friday of each month at the Inverbrena Centre in Strangford at 8 pm. The craic is good although the discipline some times suffers from the good fellowship. Join us and help preserve those “fast flying memories” for a new generation.

Eamon McMullan

“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: Strangford Turns Out © Copyright 2006 2

Inverbrena Local History Group Magazine 2006

Contents

Stella Maris Hall ................................................ Michael McConville A Saintly Priest From Ballyorgan........................ Bobby Magee The Second Coming.......................................... W. Crea

Page 3-9 10 11-12

St. Patrick’s Barn, Saul......................................... according to Joyce

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Bishop Sely, A Man Before His Time................... Eamon McMullan

13-14

Don’t Sell That Cow!.......................................... Anon

14

Signs of Spring................................................... M.B. Wright

15

Your Church...................................................... Compiled by P.J. Lennon

16

The Threshing Season......................................... P.J. Lennon talks to James McCartan

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A Kilclief Poet.................................................... P.J. Lennon

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Cowmans Code.................................................. submitted by George McKibbin

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Ballyculter.......................................................... submitted by George McKibbin

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Gallery......................................................................................................................... 21-33 Rock Scribings in Co. Down.............................. Robert C. Davidson

34-36

Winter................................................................ E. J. McMullan

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Old Mother Shipton’s Prophecies 1486 – 1561........................................................ contributed by George McKibben

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A Man of Standing in 18th Century Down.......... Bill McStay Fishing In Strangford Lough................................ G. W. Skillen My Solution Of Mysteries.................................. E. J. McMullan Happy at his work.............................................. P.J. Lennon

38-39 39 40-42 42

The Savage Armstrongs....................................... E. J. McMullan

43-46

Extracts from Home Words 1878........................ Isobel Magee

47-50

No Pockets in a Shroud...................................... George McKibbin

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Summer.............................................................. E. J. McMullan

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Notes................................................................................................................................ 52

Acknowledgments The editor wishes to thank: All members of our group for their co-operation.

Those who submitted articles. Those who trusted us with their photos and scrapbooks. Bill Jacques, Bill McStay, George Rice and Michael McConville for help given generously, Kevin Og for acting as agent.

The staff of Flixx Graphics for their cheerful help as always.

The Down Community Relations Section for their financial help.

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Stella Maris Hall

by Michael Mc Conville.

In this article I recall my memories of Stella Maris Hall and the functions held there. As my recollections only date from the mid 1940’s I suppose I should begin with a few words on the history of the hall. When Fr. MacGowan arrived in the parish in July 1925 he remarked “Our young people have to travel in all directions for amusement”.At the time the parish did not have a hall and so he considered it a matter of urgency to build a parish hall in the village. There had been a parish hall in Kilclief but it was mysteriously destroyed by fire in 1906.The hall in Kilclief, beside the school, was not built until 1943.In Strangford the Assembly Rooms in Castle Street were available for hire but they were small and little or no profit could be made on any function held there. Fr. MacGowan approached the De Ros estate, the owners of the land on which he planned to build the hall, to enquire if they would sell the land. A price of £120-00-00 was agreed and the cost of the title deeds and conveyancing was an additional £2610-00.On this site Stella Maris Hall was built and the premises were opened on 27th.

December 1926 with a whist drive .On that night many people were turned away as they could not be accommodated. The disused quarry beside the hall was converted into a shrine crowned by a statue to Our Lady ‘Star of the Sea’.

The new premises consisted of two buildings joined by a balcony. There was a hall and stage, a billiard room and a kitchen. From the beginning the new hall was made available to organisations outside the parish and various functions were held there. The Cuan Golf Club hired the hall for dances as did Teconnaught parish.The billiard room was a very popular meeting place. My father, who loved to play the game, used to tell me about the many competitions played there and I still have a set of billiard balls that were used by the club. In 1933, however, the billiard club closed when the room was converted into two classrooms to accommodate the new Stella Maris School.

A new social club was started in the hall in 1941.In October of that year Stella Maris library was opened with 150 books and a dance band was also formed. Some of the musicians who played were Joe Mc Grath, Gerry Curran, Desmond Mc Mullan, Brendan Sharvin, Theresa Lennon, Mary Travers and Paddy Dougherty. I cannot ever remember hearing them play, as in those days we were not allowed to go to a dance until we were 16 years old, although the rules were relaxed a little as far as ceilidhs were concerned we could go to one of these when we were 15.

My first recollection of attending an event in the hall is going down with my father to a parish 4

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fund raising function. In one of the classrooms a shooting range was set up. The contestants tried to ring a bell by shooting a .177 pellet through a hole in a specially made box. There were three or four of these targets and you had to screw the top off the gun barrel to insert the pellet, not like the modern air gun where you simply break the barrel to load it.

In the middle classroom a form of Bingo was being played. I believe it was called “Housey Housey”.

A wooden box measuring about four feet square with inward sloping sides was placed in the middle of the floor. The bottom of the box was divided into numbered squares each about the size of a billiard ball. The players were seated round this box. They were handed a ball at random by the person in charge.They threw the ball into the box. The ball fitted exactly into a numbered square then the number would be called out just as in Bingo.The first person to fill the card they had purchased was the winner. One important point to remember was that the sides of the box were high enough to prevent the thrower from seeing the numbers.

In the main hall a boxing tournament was in progress but I do not remember a lot about this event as I was not allowed to stay and watch. The memory of this was brought back to me when I was helping to clear out the parochial house in 1958 on Fr. Crossin’s transfer to Castlewellan.

I remember seeing several pairs of boxing gloves stored in the room above the stairs. There were also a couple of violins in the room, perhaps left behind by the band.

I remember well the plays put on by the drama club over the years. Some of the productions were “Black Coffee”,“Today and Yesterday”,“Thomas James takes a Wife”,“Charlie’s Aunt” and Arsenic and Old Lace”. These were always great events more so for me as I had to help my father get the stage and hall ready. The productions were not limited to Strangford as it was usual to repeat the performances the following week in Kilclief. Johnny Polly’s lorry was used to transfer the seats and props up to Kilclief. This practice was stopped when public transport became more available and an Ulster Transport Authority bus was hired, driven by either Joe Polly, Jimmy Given, Frank or Tom Fitzsimons, to collect the parishioners from the top end of the parish and bring them to Stella Maris hall.

I remember, on one occasion, a Fancy Dress parade and carnival held by the parish. We were led, round the village, by a band from Portaferry.The judging was in the schoolyard. I went as a pirate but the category I entered was won by Vincent Jamison who went as a window cleaner. I am not sure of the year but Vincent’s younger brother, Gerard, went as Davy Crockett who was the hero of his age group at that time. Teas were served and other events were organised in the hall and classrooms.

Local parishes, that also had drama clubs, would perform in the hall. One year St. Patrick’s Intermediate School brought their school play to the hall. Another group of players I remember well were from the Nazareth Lodge in Belfast. Amongst the actors were one or two from the popular B.B.C. comedy series The Mc Cooey’s. The reason I remember these players is that they announced from the stage after the performance that the Nazareth Lodge Annual Excursion to the Isle of Man would take place on the 12th July. For several years my father, my brother Raymond, and myself went on this trip.There were several others from Strangford who went and I remember that on the very first excursion we travelled with Joe Breen in his car to Belfast.We left at 6.30 in the morning and did not get back until after midnight. A great day was had by all.

Films were also shown in the hall even before Strangford had electricity the power being supplied by a generator.The films I remember were “My Ain Folk” and “The “Gunfighter”.We were quite

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fortunate at that time because as well as films being shown in Stella Maris Hall there were also films shown on a regular basis in the Cuan Hall.

The pupils of Stella Maris school also put on plays and concerts and again these performances were sometimes repeated in Kilclief hall. Leo Madden came to the hall on Saturday mornings to teach Irish dancing. I attended regularly but in spite of his best efforts I never got beyond doing the 7’s.

I mentioned earlier the shrine to Our Lady, Star of the Sea, that was built into the wall of the quarry .The shrine altar that overlooked the school and harbour was used in May and August each year. Fr.Crossin had processions from the church to this site.The rosary was said, hymns were sung as we walked and the event finished with a sermon and benediction.

The most important annual event to take place in the hall was the “Big Whist and Draw”. This was held in December but preparations began in early October after the “potato holidays”. It all ran like a well oiled machine. Several parishioners had ledgers in which were recorded names and addresses of previous ticket purchasers.These parishioners had the responsibility of ensuring tickets were distributed by post to all of these potential subscribers.The senior class of Stella Maris school was recruited to assist in completing this task. After 1953 when the secondary schools opened in Downpatrick and Ardglass, pupils from these schools along with students from Downpatrick Technical College would come to the hall to help in whatever way possible. In the evenings these volunteers met in the “Master’s Room” where the students, with a good writing hand, addressed the envelopes. The rest put the books of tickets, along with an appeal letter into the envelopes, which were then sealed and stamped. The serial numbers of the tickets were of course recorded before they were posted. If there was no response to the tickets and appeal, reminders were sent out. Again this involved addressing and stamping envelopes. When the tickets were returned and the money recorded an acknowledgement was sent along with a religious picture of Pope Pius X11.

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To my mind what made this exercise stand out was the use of gas to light the school. When we went home the streets were in complete darkness except for the lights in the windows of the houses that did not have heavy curtains. After 1954 this whole atmosphere changed when the electricity supply arrived in Strangford.

Posting the tickets was always a problem as there were sacks full of envelopes and the local Post Office could not handle such quantities of mail. So as not to attract unwanted attention to the event it was arranged that on certain nights the sacks of envelopes would be brought down to the Post Office sorting office in Belfast and left at the side door. Several times I went to Belfast at night with my father in Fr. Crossin’s car to complete this task.

When enough tickets were returned we went back to the school to “flit” them (i.e.) separate the books of stubs into individual tickets and roll or crumble them into a loose ball so as they would not stick together in the drum from which the winning tickets would be drawn. During the year the “Big Drum”, `first used in 1944, was stored in the garage that used to stand at the front of the church. About two weeks before the whist my father and either Andy or Mick Beattie would take the drum from the garage, carry it down the steps leading from the parochial grounds to the school, carry it through the kitchen and erect it onto the back wall of the stage. From then to the time of the draw flitted tickets were put into it where they waited for the great man - Santa - to come to make the draw for the prizes. The top prize was the grand sum of £100.

The Whist was held on a Sunday night and in the week leading up to it a lot of preparation had to be made.

Each day after school and on the Saturday I went down to help my father prepare and set the hall. The stools, forms and card tables had to be retrieved from under the balcony .The tables were set out in rows and four stools were then placed around each table. The desks in the classrooms had to be stacked and the rooms were also set out. Finally the balcony itself was set. The day of the whist was a big day for my father. Apart from making sure the hall and drum were in order he also, before 1954 and the arrival of electricity, had to keep the gasometer behind the parochial house full to capacity to light the hall and grounds for the great event.

On the night of the “Big Whist” I found it exciting to be allowed down to await the arrival of Santa. I can still see Master Mc Mullan walking through the numerous players in the hall with the school bell in his hand shouting at the start of each game; “Spades” or whatever was trumps. I must admit I did not know at the time what he was talking about but it added to the excitement of the event. On several occasions there were not enough tables set in the hall so the Cuan Hall (built in 1932), accommodated the overspill. At the end of the night all players came together to

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check scorecards and claim prizes.At its peak, before electricity and television, the “Big Whist” was a very popular event. Records show in 1947 there were 155 tables and over the five year period, 1945 to 1949, the average number of tables was 151.

Next morning, Monday, the school did not open as the hall and classrooms had to be returned to normal. The stools, forms and card tables had to be put back under the balcony, the hall and classrooms had to be brushed out and the desks returned to their proper places. What I believed to be sawdust soaked in disinfectant was scattered over the floors to help keep the dust down then all the floors were brushed. We were always willing to help my father with this job as we were sure to find 2/= or 2/6 on the floor when the tables and seats were removed. It was years before I realized we didn’t “find” the coin but the thought of lemonade and sweets when the job was completed made it easier to do.

We also had to remove the tickets from the drum. Most of the tickets were removed from the drum while it was still mounted on the supports, then, when it was lowered to the stage, my self and later when I got too tall, my brother, Raymond, had to climb into it and carefully remove all the ticket stubs trapped inside.We had to be sure the inside of the drum was clear so that a wrong ticket could not be drawn the following year. The drum was then taken back to the garage and the hall was got ready for the annual school Nativity play.

For many years the “Big Whist and Draw” was the main source of income for the parish but by the late 1950’s returns for the draw began to fall as prizes at other events increased and the playing of whist became less popular. Over the five year period 1954 – 1958 the average number of tables had fallen to 75. By this time a new craze had started and Bingo became the big attraction throughout the countryside. In Strangford there were two sessions, one in the hall and the other in the Sailing Club. Both were well supported and were a great success both financially and socially.

So popular was the Bingo that an annex was built on to the side of the Stella Maris hall to provide extra seating for the crowds that turned up.

Car rallies were also a very popular event in the district. The parish held an annual rally on a Sunday during the summer. Master Ritchie, Principal of Kilclief school, set the questions. The rally ended at the hall with a supper and dance.

After Fr. Mc Clean arrived as parish priest in April 1958 a parish committee was elected. To raise funds the committee had Stella Maris school field levelled and a marquee was installed for two or three weeks in the summer. Strangford Annual Festival soon became the place to be when top show bands played throughout the festival week. At weekends there was a monster Bingo session filling both the marquee and hall. Top entertainers also appeared on stage and we almost had a visit from Dana but due to a difference of opinion between Fr. Mc Closkey, our new parish priest, who took up his appointment in Feb. 1966, and the curate Fr. Dillon it didn’t happen.

The first of the parish guest teas was held around this time and as part of the village festival the Annual Flower Show was held in the hall.When the marquee was removed dances were still held in the hall although on a smaller scale. Once again peoples’ idea of entertainment was changing and Discos, which were usually held in licensed premises, became popular.That and the developing political situation in Northern Ireland restricted the use of the hall.

In 1964 when St. Joseph’s school was opened, Stella Maris went back to its original use as a parish centre. Unfortunately attitudes had changed and the building never regained its former glory as a recreation centre. I always thought it a pity that the billiard table that had been removed and 8

Inverbrena Local History Group Magazine 2006

At the bazzar

stored in the parochial garage when the hall became a school, was never re-used.With the permission of the parish committee a youth club was started in the hall and record hops were held to raise funds. These were the forerunner to the modern disco but were a simple affair with a Dansette record player playing the latest 78 and 45 R.P.M. records to anyone who would pay the one shilling admission fee. They did raise valuable cash to help establish the club that went on to play a major roll in the table tennis tournaments and leagues throughout Lecale. Some of the founding players are still winning trophies in local tournaments. Without a doubt Leslie Sullivan was the anchor man in running the youth club. He was a tower of strength in supporting the youth of the village.

The club had teams playing not only table tennis but also badminton. It ran dances, films such as “The Towering Inferno” and “Mc Kenna’s Gold”, discos and concerts. At one of these concerts Alfie Wrexton gave an unforgettable impersonation of Elvis singing Wooden Heart and at another concert the pop group “The Missing Links” had their stage debut with the hit song “Rhinestone Cowboy”. Their performance brought the house down. I wonder where they all are now?

The StrangfordVillage Improvements Committee, now called Strangford Community Association, was formed in 1960 and held their meetings in what had been the Master’s Room. On two occasions they called public meetings in the hall itself.The first in 1974 to discuss the introduction of a parking control zone in the village and the second in 1977 to reject plans to convert the old sailing club premises into a restaurant.

One of the largest attended functions held in the hall was on a night in 1968 when the Sam Maguire and the All Ireland Jr.Camogie cups came to the village. A presentation and concert was held by the Village Committee in honour of Carmel Hanvey (nee Reid) and Ray Mc Conville, members of the winning teams. Other well attended events were the showing of the 1960, 1961 and 1968 All Ireland football finals and a variety concert. These were organised as part of the

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Hynds appeal fund set up as the result of the tragic deaths of Gerry and Julie Hynds in a vehicle collision in December 1970.

In 1967 Fr. Dillon called a group of parishioners to a meeting in the hall and established Strangford and District Credit Union which later became Strangford Credit Union Ltd. Business was conducted in the hall for a number of months before moving to St. Josephs’ school.

The last functions to be held in the hall were school concerts, annual parish bazzars and a presentation to Fr. Coyle on his leaving the parish in 1983. Due to lack of maintenance and the high cost of insurance the hall ceased to be of use to the parish.

Fr. Kelly’s presentation held in 1987 took place in Kilclief hall.A committee was set up in 1988 to research the funding available to replace Stella Maris and in December 1989 Stella Maris hall was closed for all public use. In October 1990 Stella Maris was sold, dismantled and the site cleared to accommodate the building of Inverbrena Centre which was opened in 1992.

Those of us who remember Stella Maris hall in its glory years will always have a soft spot for it and it is nice to see that the “Hall” that served the parish/community as a club, school and hall for 64 years is acknowledged by a plaque set in the gable of the new centre which reads:-Inverbrena Community Centre built 1991 on site of Stella Maris Hall.

Hall being dismantled - Noel Kearney in doorway

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Inverbrena Local History Group Magazine 2006

A Saintly Priest From Ballyorgan

by Bobby Magee

The surname Magee is one of the old family names in the parish of Kilclief and surrounding area. One of the notable bearers of the name was Reverend Father Patrick Magee (PP), born in Ballyorgan, during the famine years in 1848. His ordination to the priesthood was in Maynooth in 1873. He was appointed curate of Newtownards and subsequently in various parishes in the Down and Connor Diocese. He was appointed parish priest of Kilcoo in August 1889 and died in Kilcoo on the 6th June, 1914.

An obituary in a local paper, recorded his death as follows:“His many friends will learn with regret, of the death of the Reverent P. Magee PP, which took place in the Parochial House, Kilcoo on Saturday last, 6th June. With his demise the Diocese of Down and Connor has lost a very learned and very saintly priest. Born in Ballyorgan, parish of Kilclief, February 21st, 1848, of an old and greatly respected Catholic family, which on both sides gave many zealous and saintly priests to the church. Father Magee as a boy showed certain indications of the future to which God called him. Passing from the Diocesan Seminary, he entered the Rhetoric class in Maynooth, August 25, 1867. In June, 1874 he was ordained and shortly afterwards appointed curate of Newtownards. After two years, he transferred to Lower Mourne, and subsequently, in 1877 to Lisburn. He became curate of St. Mary’s Belfast, 1879 and St. Peter’s in 1882. During his seven years in St. Peter’s, Father Magee’s sterling qualities and particularly his tireless zeal in the interests of religion, sprang forth with conspicuous splendour. He was a centre figure in the troublesome times of the mid 80’s, and very many still have fresh in their memory, the extraordinary self-sacrifice and continuous arduous labour of Father Magee during those sterling times. It will also be remembered how prominent a part, he took in the struggle for nationalist representation in the parliamentary register. In August, 1889, Father Magee was appointed Parish Priest of Kilcoo, and his work as pastor of the parish of Kilcoo will not soon be forgotten. At the time of his appointment there was practically no school in the parish, there was no parochial house, and the church as a century old. In a marvellous short space of time he had erected a school at Tullaree, a parochial house, a hall, two schools in Ballymoney, and a church, perhaps the most beautiful in the diocese. Needless to say, he endeared himself to the people, not only by his unselfish devotion to their spiritual and temporal welfare, but still more by the example of his saintly life. We tender to them and his sorrowing relatives our deepest sympathy in their heavy loss, and the Diocese has also reason to regret his loss, for Father Magee shone above his fellows as a man of deep and wide learning. His knowledge of history, especially both ecclesiastical and civil, was the marvel of his hearers. He has now gone to reap the reward of his labours in the vineyard, accompanied by the prayers of those who knew him. May he rest in peace.”

The esteem in which the late pastor was held by his brother clergy of the Diocese of Down and Connor, and the clergy of the neighbouring Diocese of Dromore, as well as by his faithful parishioners, was strikingly exemplified on Monday, when the remains of the deceased pastor were laid to rest in the little churchyard at Kilcoo. On all sides could be seen ample evidence of the profound regret which is felt at the loss sustained by the diocese, and especially by the people of Kilcoo and Strangford, in whose midst Father Magee had laboured so zealously for a quarter of a century. The burial ceremony was performed by Dr. Tohill, Bishop of Down and Connor.

Members of Father Magee’s extended family are present day parishioners of Kilclief and neighbouring parishes, including great, great, great nephews and nieces.

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The Second Coming

by W. Crea.

Off Gun’s Island Patrick and his crew of seven in their skin covered curragh were riding a rough sea with a strong wind on their stern. Patrick was watching the rocky coast in front. The man on the steering oar was Magnus, who, in his youth, living in Brittany was the first convert of Patrick’s early ministry. He and Patrick had been friends ever since and their boating experiences off the coast of Brittany were going to be given their test. It was Magnus who was now navigator. To Magnus, “I think we should turn in and land on that sandy beach on the lee of that big island; the weather is quickly turning against us. You will remember that very red sunrise this morning and worse still, that very ‘hairy’ sky; that meant rain and strong winds. Well, we have had the rain and we are now going to have the wind; it is freshening fast; turn in”. Magnus shook his head, “I see five or six huts near the water’s edge and if they were hostile they would be on us before we would be out of the boat.” They were now closing fast on Killard rocks. “Turn in quickly Magnus or we will be in danger”! Magnus was already struggling with the tiller oar, he tried to turn in but was unable for the strong current flowing into the lough and the approaching gale from the south was too much for the shallow drafted craft and they were being sucked into the lough. They had now no option but to go with the wind and the current. Patrick, “We must keep that wind and heavy seas on our stern for if we get broadside we will be in serious trouble”.

Patrick to his leading oarsman, “Niall, get all oars into the water and keep us heading with the wind and current”.

The little craft, battered by the wind and waves pitched and heaved it’s way into the lough. Niall saw Killard bay but it was impossible to suggest turning in. They sped on. Fortunately the rocks in the centre of the lough were visible because it was only half tide. These are now marked as Rock Angus. The seals at Cloghy in their quiet little colony saw this “monster” coming up the lough in a shower of spray and had fears for their safety so they took their normal precautions and dived into the bosom of the lough. Patrick and his crew never saw the seals for they were approaching Bankmore and Patrick was worried about their safety for conditions were worsening.

They could see huts on each side and approach was impossible but Patrick saw a gleam of hope ahead. He was standing in the bow and could see broader water ahead; perhaps some shelter and calmer waters. Magnus, “I wouldn’t go near that broad water, the wind will be stronger and we would be seen from both shores. I think we should keep to the shelter of the land and make a landing as soon as possible”, at the same time fingering his empty lunch bag. Niall backed him immediately for he, too, had a lean and hungry look. Magnus, “There’s a wee bay over to the left and I don’t see any huts so we should be able to land safely”. They were now in the shelter of Audleystown and calmer waters. Patrick nodded agreement and they drifted into the bay and grounded at the mouth of the Slaney near the Fiddler’s Bridge. They had been seen, however.

Some locals on Raholp hill had seen the boat landing and eight men coming inland. “Who are those boys?”, said one, “we had better tell the boss. Do you know where he is, is he in his hut”?

“No, he’s not” said another. “He’s up on the Slieve with the lookouts”. This was Slieve William now appropriately renamed Slieve Patrick.

The boss was Dichu, the chieftain of the clan and boss of the district. He was always very strict on security. He liked to keep an eye on the boys across the water – the Ards men, for they would nip across on a low tide in their small curraghs to plunder and steal and then scurry back before the outgoing tide got too strong and maybe draw them into the rapids. Dichu was already on his way down from the Slieve with his three brawny “minders”. Eventually Patrick, his crew and Dichu met with great caution but Patrick’s outstretched hand conveyed a message, overcame 12

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Dichu’s caution and he grasped it. This strangely harmonious encounter was very unusual in a country where every stranger was considered an enemy until proven otherwise. One must ask, did that ‘still small voice’ which inspired Patrick to make his second coming; did it also speak to Dichu on that day on Slieve William? Dichu invited them into his hut where lavish hospitality was extended to all, much to the pleasure of Magnus, Niall and the crew. Patrick lost no time in explaining his return to the island and after much talking and debating Dichu renounced his paganistic convictions and became Patrick’s first convert. So that Patrick could spread his Christian message in some comfort he gave him the use of his barn for his meetings. The site of that barn is where the granite church of Saul now stands. Many of the locals were converted in this building but Patrick had to move on for Ireland was his declared parish.

He and his companions spent the rest of their lives on this ambitious project and after great success he returned to Saul in his old age, died and was buried in the grounds of the monastery in Downpatrick where the Cathedral now stands. His funeral service was conducted by St. Tassagh, one of his early converts, in the barn. Future generations will never forget this great event for on the Slieve we have that magnificent statue overlooking the scene of his second coming.

St. Patrick’s Barn, Saul according to Joyce

The name ‘Saul’, a village near Downpatrick, preserves the memory of St. Patrick’s first convert, Dichu, the prince of the district who presented him with a barn as a temporary church. A church was subsequently erected on the site, hence the Scotic name ‘Sabhall Patrick’ meaning ‘Patrick’s barn’. ‘Sabhall’ becomes ‘Saul’ in the modern form.

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Bishop Sely, A Man Before His Time

by Eamon McMullan

Introduction It was while writing the article on Kilclief Castle or Tower House, for last year’s magazine that I came across Bishop Sely and the letter from the Archbishop in Armagh to those in power in the Lecale area to oust him from his post and residence. He lived openly with his housekeeper, Letitia Thom, giving all kinds of bad example to the common people long before Bishop Casey was ever heard of. The letter was in badly composed Latin, just one long sentence and the very devil to translate. However, a friend of the Strangford History Group, Inverbrena, has attempted the impossible. It is interesting, even from the fact that it comes from a time 550 years ago and yet similar things are happening in this day and age. The more things change, the more they stay the same. E.J.M TRANSLATION “I have spent a long time puzzling over this dog Latin, and I’m afraid I must disappoint you – I cannot translate it verbatim, all I give below is a summary of what appears to me to be the gist of it – and please don’t attribute it to me, as I’m not even confident enough to stand over it. I can understand why the man at Dean Close (the young fellow who has joined us knows him) took fright!

The problems are: the whole thing consists, except for the last few lines, of a single sentence; it is written in legalese, with lots of repetitions; many of the words are not Latin as I understand it; it is in any case badly written – the previous thing I translated for Ellis Fitzsimmons was much less illiterate. I am sure there is someone who deals with this sort of stuff, but I doubt if Cicero himself could have made much sense of it, and it would certainly have driven him to apoplectic rage – which is more or less the effect it has on me. Anyway, here is what I think it is driving at.

The Archbishop (is he John???) sends greetings etc. to the local clergy, Dean of the cathedral,Abbot of Saul (presumably), Archdeacon of Down.

Re the bishop of Down (John as well?), appointed by his predecessor, who has been warned many times to quit (?) within a certain fixed period, his castle at Kilclief where he has been cohabiting with a certain Lettice Thomb, and, to avoid scandal, to go to his manor at Lismole (?) or some other place and to keep up his monastic habit as is his right.

Because he has not obeyed these warnings and requirements, and had been punished by being suspended and excommunicated, and having persisted abdurately in disobedience for a long period, not content with this, but adding wrongdoing to wrongdoing, acting against his oath (?) (something to do with the church at Armagh ……???)

He has persisted (this point is laboriously repeated) in this contempt, and has (?) renewed his sacrilegious behaviour (?) despite the threats of punishment, and he has increased his offences, and has recognised neither his guilt nor his superior, and although suspended and excommunicated, my predecessor decreed that he be publicly denounced …

The same Bishop of Down, not blushing nor fearing, because he had behaved in this way for so long and publicly … (something about absolution) … and has obdurately resisted and resists the punishments etc. and has refused and refuses to submit to our metropolitan visitation …

(Something about wanting to have him suffer the due consequences with all his dependents, but without blood being on our hands) and desiring that he would not get away with his behaviour and thus encourage others to behave likewise, I/we enjoin you under pain of excommunication etc. to do within three days what we order or you will be in trouble too.

(The order seems to be) to choose an appropriate time, when there are many people around, for 14

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you, or one of you, to rouse the bishop, publicly making the announcement on account of the danger hanging over him, if he can be so apprehended, and to take, personally or some other way, openly and publicly etc. and produce him before us or one or more of our commissaries (?) in the chapel of our manor at Termofecan (Armagh) …

The intention is to deal with him and proceed to his deposition … ??? … and to get him to plead his case and say (??) why we should not refer it and write to his Holiness the Pope, and even, as we intend, God willing, invoke the secular arm (something about parliament – where is Trabat???), and issue a ban (??) throughout Ulster … ??? (something about)you or whoever carries out the instructions to certify who (?) has done it.

Given under our seal etc.

Don’t Sell That Cow! The wise old Mother Superior from county Tipperary was dying.

The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her comfortable.

They gave her some warm milk to drink, but she refused it.

Then one nun took the glass back to the kitchen.

Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened it and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.

Back at Mother Superior’s bed, she held the glass to her lips.

Mother drank a little, then a little more.

Before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.

“Mother,” the nuns asked with earnest, “Please give us some wisdom before you die.”

She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, “Don’t sell that cow.”

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Signs of Spring

by M.B.Wright,The Waterhouse, Strangford and Grand Parks B.C. The Sun is showing his face again Winter is past, the flowers appear on the earth, The time of the singing of birds has come.

It is the resurrection of nature.

From the death of winter arises the life of spring, Who hath eyes to see can behold the signs; or ears to hear, can hardly be unconscious of the singing of the brook or the carolling of bird life.

It’s the mating season – “Sweet calling to his mate” and pluming himself gaily to attract her.

“In the spring a brighter iris, comes upon the burnished dove”. Humans also, it affects likewise, with this difference, that it’s the female who does most of the ‘burnishing’ usually.

According to Greek legend, one of the spring flowers, the narcissus, was named after a youth who fell in love with his own reflection as seen in the river, and pined away and died, after which these flowers sprang up at the place.

The flowers that bloom in the spring are many and varied, but perhaps gold and white – the snowdrops, lily, daffodil, buttercup, primrose for instance.

Many are the bulb family, transported from the land of Holland, that country of bulbs, dykes and windmills.

Vancouver gardens can show no mean display,Victoria likewise.

It’s really there and at other parts of the island that they grow in greatest profusion. Victoria also, can make the boast of possessing in close proximity to the city, a Solar Planetarium, in which are captured the Sun’s rays for use in healing – not the nations, but the children whose poor little bodies are bathed in his ultra-violet rays, and health and strength is bestowed on limbs which were so weak and wobbly before. Those rays are bringing new life to them.

What wonder the Sun was once worshipped as a God! Sun Worshippers!

In these enlightened days, many would look upon them as ignorant, barbarous, savage.

But maybe not, the people who have lived and laboured in the Northern Wilds. There after months of dreary darkness, one can imagine how they hailed his return. Spring meant new life to them. Or – to some nearer home in our own province of British Columbia, anyone who lived in the North knows with what anxiety he has looked day after day for the first sign of brown earth appearing after months and months of gazing at a white world (where even the rabbits were white) and then, what a sight it was to see the first pussy willow, the first violet, the first robin, all those harbingers of spring, and, how beautiful to such eyes looked the young tender green of the birch! Old Yukoners will not soon forget their first inclination of the coming of spring. There was nothing tender or gentle about it.

A gun shot heralded it, and when that was heard, down to the river rushed the whole populace – even Minister and congregation when it happened on a Sunday during service – to gaze upon that wonderful sight, once seen, never forgotten, of a mighty river bursting its bonds of ice, and rushing towards the sea.

The fortunate guesser of the exact (or nearest to exact) day, hour, minute and second when it occurred won the sweepstake – not the Irish one – for that event. And His Majesty, the Sun, is the power behind it all.

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Your Church:

Compiled by P.J. Lennon Kilclief church was a target for Vikings!

The prominent location of the Parish Church of Kilclief made it an obvious target for the Vikings on their various forays into the water of Strangford Lough.

The church at Kilclief was destroyed by the Vikings on at least two occasions. The last time it was devastated was 1001 AD, when there was a considerable loss of life.

It says a great deal for the determination of the faithful in those times that again and again they rebuild their churches.

It is recorded that the population of the parish in those arduous years numbered around 10,000.

‘The present church was built about 1840, replacing an earlier one and it stands on one of the oldest ecclesiastical sites in Ireland’ explained the Rev. W.W. Kennedy rector of Kilclief.

Here also the link with the patron saint is very strong, as Mr Kennedy pointed out.

‘The site is attributed to two disciples of St. Patrick; St. Eugenius and St. Niellus.’

‘Another saint who had close association with the area was St. Caylan, and there is a well in the vicinity which still bears his name.’

This house of worship, which has endured wind and weather for centuries, is an attractive building located on a height overlooking Strangford Bar and separated by a few hundred yards from the well-known 14th century Kilclief Castle, which was used for a period as a manor by the Bishops of Down.

The church was not the only link in Kilclief with Christianity, care or charity.

In the district there was also a monastery and a leper hospital. A field just north of the church is still referred to by local people as the ‘Spital’ field.

As for the Anglo Normans who built the castle, their stone coffin lids have been unearthed in the surrounding graveyard.

Kilclief Church is one with a very solid exterior but it has, without doubt, a charm which is increased by its position.

‘The church is of a simple barn construction but it is beautiful in its simplicity,’ added the rector.

The church does contain a few notable features and for those interested in the finer points of design this note, which appeared in an archaeological publication some years ago, might be of interest.

‘It is a rendered stone building and its only ornament is a tiny belfry with a stone quarterfoil below it and above the porch.

‘There is a triple east window, in wooden mullions of plain glass – the other windows are single lancets.’

‘The roof is borne on simple Iron trusses with inset circles.’

Many tides have ebbed and flowed over the Strangford Bar since the building of Kilclief Parish Church, over 140 years ago.

Today it is recognised as one of the most remarkable and noteworthy buildings located in East Down.

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The Threshing Season

P.J. Lennon talks to James McCartan The nook, the scythe, the one horse and the two horse mowing machine, the flail, the barn machine and the binder have all had their hour, the combine harvester is now carrying out the seasonal cutting and at present its busy song can be heard all around the countryside.

A night or two ago while the wind whistled through an ivy covered holly hedge, I sat and talked to James McCartan of Raholp, about his days travelling around the farms with the old steam threshing machine.

“It was back in 1924 when I went out with one of the yokes first” he told me. “I was a six-day week and I was paid fifteen shillings.

The threshing season, as a rule commenced towards the end of July and carried on until the following March with a short break around Christmas time. But, as James said “I’ve seen threshing done in the month of May.” It was a very slow business travelling the country roads from one farm to the other with the equipment of yesterday which was cumbersome and not that easy to handle. And yet in the years James McCartan was driving he was never involved in a serious accident although often much of the moving was done towards dusk with little more than a hurricane lamp perched on the front of the engine.

“Threshing as a rule was generally done in two to three days” James explained “but mind you I’ve sat in a stack yard much longer and the longest stint I did was during the last war when we were at it for ten and a half days. Weather was always a problem to the farmer and those assisting him. There was little shelter around a threshing mill. When the wind was blowing and the rain lashing down you often wished that you were anywhere else but on the board of the machine.

But when the sun shone the picture was very different.

Moving around from farm to farm the machine men used the opportunity of judging and comparing one yield with another. I remember once threshing over at Ardmeen, the harvest of a first year lea field and the following year threshing it again. On the second occasion we were turning out about two tons three every hour and that was a good return any way you look at it.

“It is only natural that in all these years calling at the various farms that you looked forward to threshing at some places more than others. There were some of them and you’d rather you had been sent to hell.”

All in all, it came out quite clearly in chatting to James that the farming folk of the district were a decent lot. Had they not been I don’t believe he would have remembered so much about them.

About farms, farmers, threshing and threshing machines James McCartan can talk for hours and while he’s talking you’ll listen – with interest.

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A Kilclief Poet

by P.J. Lennon

A good many years ago there lived in Kilclief a young man who was as handy with a pen as he was around a fishing boat or the deck of a steamer. If Lawrence Breen died relatively young in years he left behind a legacy of poems that are certainly most evocative and readable today.

Lawrence wrote of things he knew and understood – people, the sea and a rig that was always welcome on the country roads more especially on a Friday.

The Auld Herrin’ Cart

Boys the country’s chuck wey blockin’, Since the Kilclief men put out.

But divil a hair I care for them, For I’ll hit the road a clout, I’d rather ate a herrin, Before I make a start, Wey me pony an me boxes, An me auld herrin’ cart.

In the second verse he tells of the danger of standing behind his pony while feeding. The third verse notes the places he’s likely to stop for a chat or a cup of tea. In the fourth verse he takes a dig at another who was a fish seller, and then –

Now, all the girls I meet are bobbed, No hair hangs down their backs; They’ve stocking thin upon their shin, They’re neither white nor black.

An’ it’s them that can paint and powder, An’ smoke till cheer their heart, Ah wouldn’t lift them fur a pension, On me auld herrin’ cart.

At Chapeltown there is a house, It stands along the way Where I can get the morning dew, And drink it up like tay.

Sure I call there every morning, Before I make a start, An’ rattle till Ardglass Upon me auld herrin’ cart.

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The cow is queen, so don’t forget, Don’t curse or swear, or make her fret.

Talk quietly, and treat her well, Your profits then are sure to swell.

Don’t raise your voice, don’t move too quick, Don’t make her run, Don’t use that stick.

Then with quiet confidence instilled You’ll see your bulk tank better filled.

And if perchance, Kate kicks your arm, Don’t kick her back, she meant no harm.

Just pat her gently, calm her fear, And softly say “I love you dear”.

And when she dungs all o’er the floor, Just wash it down and through the door.

Don’t stamp your feet and throw abuse.

Perhaps she’s ill – a trifle loose?

And as you walk among your herd Remember stop – have a word With Jessie, Flo and Snowy too, It’s not so much to ask of you.

Always bear these words in mind; As you improve, you’re sure to find, Your cows will be content, and so Abundantly the milk will flow.

Johnny Boy’s dairy cows passing Kilclief school. Donal Denvir in foreground 20

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Ballyculter

submitted by George McKibbin Ballyculter, a parish, in the barony of Lecale, county of Down, and province of Ulster; containing, with the post-town of Strangford, 2221 inhabitants. It is situated on Lough Strangford, and comprises, according to the Ordnance survey, (including islands and detached portions) 5177 ½ statute acres, of which 1753 are applotted under the tithe act; about four-fifths are arable and pasture, and the remainder, excepting about 70 acres of woodland and 40 of water, is waste land and bog.

The soil is very fertile, and the land is in a state of excellent cultivation; a considerable quantity of corn is sent to Liverpool and Glasgow. At Tallyratty are some lead mines, which were worked in 1827, and found very productive; the ore is considered to be of superior quality, but they are not now worked. Castle Ward, the splendid seat of Lord Bangor; Strangford House, the residence of the Hon. Harriet Ward; and Strangford Lodge, that of J. Blackwood, Esq., are situated in the parish.

The village is neatly built, and is one of the most pleasant in the county. A manor court is held at Strangford every three weeks by the seneschal of the lord of the manor, in whom are vested very extensive privileges; its jurisdiction extends over the parish and the river of Strangford. The living is a rectory, in the diocese of Down, and was formerly annexed to the deanery of Down, from which it was separated in 1834, and made a distinct rectory, in the patronage of the Crown; the tithes amount to £387.15.7. The church, a spacious and handsome structure, was erected in 1723, and a tower and spire were added to it in 1770; the Ecclesiastical Commissioners have lately granted £295 for its repair. There is a chapel at Strangford, the private property of Lord De Roos, of which the rector is chaplain. The glebe-house was built by aid of a gift of £450 and a loan of £50 from the late Board of First Fruits, in 1817: there is a glebe at Strangford, comprising 6a 2r 37p. Lord Bangor is about to build a glebe-house in or near the village for the residence of the rector. In the R.C. divisions the parish forms part of the union or district of Ballee; there are two chapels, one at Strangford and the other at Cargagh; and there are two places of worship for Wesleyan Methodists. In the village is a handsome school-house, with residences for a master and mistress, built in 1824, and supported by an annual donation of £50 from Lord Bangor, and a small donation from the rector. An infants’ school is supported entirely by the Hon. Harriet Ward. These schools afford instruction to about 94 boys and 84 girls; and there are also two pay schools, in which are about 82 boys and 48 girls, and four Sunday schools. Near the church are four handsome alms-houses, built in 1832 at the expense of Lady Sophia Ward, who endowed them with £40 per annum, payable out of the estate of Lord Bangor for ever; the management is vested in three trustees, of whom the rector for the time being is one. Within the parish are three castles erected by De Courcy and his followers after the conquest of Ulster; one is situated close to the quay at Strangford, one on the creek below Castle Ward, and the third is Audley Castle on a rock opposite to Portaferry.

Source: A Topagraphical Dictionary of Ireland, 1837

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Gallery

Lord and Lady De Ros with fishermen.

One of which is Harry Pitts Father

De Ros Workers

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Gallery

Bob Sullivan and Sammy McKeown

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Gallery Magee Family Ballynarry

Denvir Family bringing in the bales, Donal, Aine, Maire and Orla

L-R: Dessie Woods, Eileen Farrington,Tommy McCartan

Mrs Eileen McIllmurray

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Gallery Strangford Golf Club

The Balcony in Stella Maris Hall

Alex McMullan with his Dog Spot

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Gallery

Peig Denvir (manager) talking to members of the Down County team prior to winning the All Ireland Junior Cup. Maura Caldwell, Roisin McGrady, Carmel Reid and Rita Walsh

Robert Polly Strangford loads up with water at the spring on the Blackcauswood Road.

The water was needed to make blocks for the building of the RC Church in Strangford in the 30’s

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Gallery

Mr. Brown is pictured using a cradle-sned scythe, the handle of which he made and fitted himself

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Gallery

De Ros Workers

Notice Quayles Weighbridge

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Gallery Removing thatch from Magee’s house in B’narry

Sowing by “fiddle”

The Magee’s

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Elliott’s Potato Stores.

Gallery

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Gallery

New Slip and Old Newry Quay

De Ros Boathouse

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Gallery

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Gallery

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Gallery

Lord Bangor’s Funeral

Hugh Press, Kevin Hanna, Jack Sharvin, Brendan Sharvin

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Rock Scribings in Co. Down

by Robert C. Davidson

In September, 1948, I discovered scribings on an outcrop of Silurian rock in a rough piece of ground in front of the farm buildings belonging to Mr Leo Laverty, Churchtown, Upper Ballyculter, near Strangford. The rock seems to have been rounded by ice action. The scribings take the form of two groups of crude concentric circles, which appear to have been made by pocking with a blunt-pointed tool and then probably smoothed with a stone; pock marks can be distinctly seen.

The left-hand group, which is much more complete than the other, begins in the centre with what seems to be meant for a spiral of two turns, which fades out and then there are five more or less complete circles and three incomplete. The diameter of the group varies from 20 to 24 inches. The right-hand group is not so deeply pocked and consists of five incomplete circles and a small part of a sixth. The diameter of this group is approximately 16 inches; there is a space of about 3 inches between the two groups. Part of the rock-boss is covered with grass and other markings may possibly be still hidden. There are faint indications of two other groups on nearby rocks. Plate V. Many is the time you passed by this spot while on your way to Castlemahon.

These were the doorways to the outbuildings at Leo Laverty’s farmyard, but are no longer there.

They have been replaced by a raised grass plot or garden.

These rock scribings are along the roadside (Ballyculter Road at Ballyculter Village) on left hand side just before turning into the entrance to Leo Laverty’s farmyard.

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Mr Laverty could tell me nothing about these scribings; in fact he confessed that he has been living here for over 40 years and had never noticed them. He also told me that his family was related to Monsignor O’Laverty, the well-known writer on antiquities in Down and Antrim, who often stayed at Churchtown, and I wondered why such a keen observer had not noticed these circles, until Mr Laverty mentioned that for years this waste piece of ground had been overgrown by whins and brambles, which he had cleared away. It is very probable that in O’Laverty’s time the scribings had been hidden by this growth.

Irish rock ornamentation consisting of spirals, concentric circles with or without a radial channel (“cup and ring(s) with runner”), chevrons, etc., seems to have been in fashion at all times during the Bronze Age and possibly also in the Iron Age. This ornamentation is found mainly on stones associated with megaliths, such as the classic examples of New Grange, Dowth, Lough Crew, Knockmany (Tyrone), etc., but designs cut on natural rocks or the walls of caves have a fairly general distribution, with particular concentrations in Kerry and Wicklow. In Ulster the best known of the latter class are in the district around Boho, Co. Fermanagh, where large rocks bearing cupand-circle devices were discovered. Markings also appear on the walls of caves at Knockmore, near Derrygonnelly, also in Co. Fermanagh, but these are different in character from the Boho scribings and some of them are believed to be of the Early Christian Period. In the Mevagh and Barnes district of Co. Donegal were found rock scribings consisting of cup-and-circle markings.

These Irish rock scribings have been roughly divided by E. MacWhite into two groups, which differ in cultural affinities, ornamental repertoire, and distribution; those which are associated with Passage Graves and those which are not. The second group, which, when more evidence is obtained, may be divided into sub-groups, he terms “Galician,” as the homeland of the group is to be found in North-West Spain and North Portugal. In Ireland, he states, the scribings in this group are usually found on natural rock-surfaces or boulders and occasionally on standing stones.

The boulders or rock-surfaces are normally isolated, that is, they have no apparent connection with any monument or structure. Occasionally these carvings occur in burial cairns, but not in megaliths. The ornamental repertoire is quite distinct from that of Passage Grave art; the principal motifs are cup-and-rings, very often cross-in-circle with a radial groove or ray, labyrinth design and cups joined by criss-cross channels, but each group had at times influence on the art of the other.

North Antrim contains a group of small chambered round cairns, an outliner of the Passage Grave culture, and one of these at Carnanmore has a roofing slab with engravings. These consist of a spiral in two concentric rings and alongside is what appears to be either a erescentric engraving or two spirals inside concentric rings. There is also a serpentiform line and three “horse-shoe” markings. Professor Evans compares these with the assemblage of engravings found by Professor Macalister at Knowth.

At Lismore, about 3 ½ miles south of Churchtown, O’Laverty records – “a large slab of flagstone . . . curiously carved with spirals and volutes, and much resembles in ornamentation the slab at the entrance to Newgrange.” Recent enquiries have failed to locate this slab.

The only other stones of this class which I know from Co. Down are recorded by F.J. Bigger from Ballyaughan, near Hilltown. Here were what he refers to as the remains of a fort, which was formerly surrounded by large stones embedded in the face of the bank. One of these stones, which is now in Belfast Museum, has two groups of concentric circles, each group with a cup-hollow at the centre and a radial channel, deeply cut in it. There had formerly been another stone with similar markings, but this had disappeared. These Ballyaughian designs are placed by MacWhite in the Galician group and the scribings at Churchtown can also be placed in this group with, possibly, a trace of influence of Passage Grave art in the crude portion of a spiral, as the spiral is a dominant feature on some of the megaliths. So far as I know, these are the first of such markings 36

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on a natural rock surface to be recorded in North-East Ireland and may be a further link in the spread of the art to North Britain.

Winter

by E. J. McMullan I see bare and brittle branches, bereft of leaf and berry, Dry and shattered stalks of broken bracken in confusion lie upon the land.

A chill coldness of threatening wind and rain-cloud in commotion.

Winter days have set their sombre mood along my mountains elongated panorama.

The steep slopes, crystal-laced with tumbling silver threads, Spilling their liquid rosaries of sparkling ornament.

Rivulet and rushing stream in a profused plethora.

A kaleidoscope of intricate display Performed before my very eyes, unfolds itself.

And all for my unique enjoyment.

And just outside my windowpane.

A fresh breeze off the mountains’ folds and valleys, Air from off the foam-flecked sea, clean and bracing, it brings a cocktail of taste and smell, Seaweed and bracken, heather and pine.

In calm moments, a heady potion, in wilder gale-swept times unnoticed, but, no doubt, still there.

This is my inheritance, my legacy, left to me without codicil or condition, mine to keep for free, a gift, a pleasure, A way of life to share with anyone and everyone, Be they prince or pauper and feel no poorer at the sharing In fact, enriched.

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Old Mother Shipton’s Prophecies 1486 – 1561. contributed by George McKibben Here they are: Horseless carriages shall fly Over the earth and in the sky Faster than the speed of sound Round the world and round and round ‘Till there’s neither peace or rest For saint or sinner, cursed or blest, Rich and poor shall all be one – ‘Till man and master both have none; Though few will have enough to eat, Favourite dogs shall sit at meat, Women shall man’s rights acquire, And ape his manners and attire; Women’s counsel shall be sought By knaves and fools at every court.

‘Till minds of all men are bemused The world bedevilled and confused; And women’s voices shall be raised In taverns where good ale was praised And none who sit and drink their wallop Shall know the good wife from the trollop.

Men shall hear what others say Twenty thousand miles away; Men the eye hath never seen Shall move like ghosts upon a screen; And music good and music bad Shall fill the air and drive men mad.

East and West shall quarrel sore, And each shall threaten total war, Which if started shall not spare A man, a beast, a bird in air.

No glowing bride with wedding ring No women, child no living thing.

If war should come this awful strife Shall be about a way of life.

One for East and one for West, But each shall think his own the best . . .

One’s way his power to increase And one to chew his gum in peace; Yet if the world must end and heavens fall, There’ll be no way of life at all If season fails you’ve had it, chum, In nineteen hundred and ninety one.

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A Man of Standing in 18th Century Down The life and times of Judge Michael Ward. By Bill McStay

Even after almost three hundred years, there is no mistaking the young barrister’s ardour. “Madam,” wrote Michael Ward in January 1710 to 18 year old heiress Anne Hamilton of Bangor, fully ten years his junior,“I find ‘tis impossible for me to live without you. Nothing can please me till I flye to ye thoughts of you, there I find inexhaustible treasures of joys.” Anne’s widowed mother Lady Sophia Hamilton was less than enthusiastic about a match, but love was not to be denied. Anne, who brought with her a considerable fortune, married her persuasive suitor later that same year, and was to remain his wife and mother of their three children until his death in 1759.

Despite Lady Sophia’s reservations, Michael Ward was no common fortune hunter. A member of the leading family of Lecale Barony, he was descended from a Cheshire family who had first arrived in Ireland in 1570. Son of Bernard, who was killed in a duel in 1690, he inherited the family estate of Castle Ward near Strangford. He set about building a new home for his young wife, and with her planned the landscaping of its wooded acres in their magnificent natural setting on the shores of Strangford Lough.

Michael was not content, unlike many young men of his station, simply to remain a country landowner, hob-nobbing with the local gentry and overseeing his tenantry in leisurely fashion.

He practised law, he represented County Down in the Irish Parliament from 1715 – 1725, and in 1725 was appointed a Justice of the Court of King’s Bench. His legal duties in Dublin, necessitating a round journey of 200 miles on the rough roads of the time, often kept him in the capital for long periods. Yet still he kept in touch with Down through his prolific letter writing – to his wife in Castle Ward, to members of his family, and to his agent Francis Lascelles in the little port of Killough, centre of his business interests.

In the early years of the 18th century Killough was a huddle of fishermen’s houses along the shore of the Bay of the same name. Its enterprising landlord, fully aware of its reputation among seafarers as a safe haven for ships unable to make the difficult entrance in adverse weather to nearby Ardglass, set out to capitalise on the harbour’s location as the nearest to English west coast seaports. Acting through Lascelles, his local business manager, he constructed a sheltered quay where up to 20 ships could be accommodated. By the early 1720’s Killough was importing gunpowder from Dublin and Belfast for Ward’s lead mine, rock salt from Liverpool for his salt works, and even timber from the Baltic and wines and brandy from France. The ships did not leave empty, for as well as cargoes of refined salt, they carried barley from the farming hinterland to Irish and English buyers.

By 1744 the visiting English author Walter Harris could write: Killough, now called Port St. Anne, was of late made a Town and commodious Harbour by the Hon. Michael Ward Esq.Whose Estate it is; who for the encouragement of the Town built a strong Kay where ships now lie very safe.

And always careful to ingratiate himself with the gentry, he did not fail to mention the grain stores, the drying mill, and the nine-mile “Judge’s Road” which connected the port with Castle Ward. Then too there was “a decent Church of Saint Anne” and “a Charter working School for the reception and constant improvement of poor Popish Children . . . raised at the expense of Mr Justice Ward, who gave twelve acres and £20 per annum for twenty years.”

Over the years the energetic Judge kept up his voluminous correspondence. He concerned himself with matters great and small. He canvassed the marriage prospects of his daughters Sophia and Anne, he queried his man Lascelles in Killough about the progress of his affairs and was not above noting that it cost “four pence to drill a hole in ye skrue of ye nokker.” Lady Anne’s brisk letters to her absent husband in time lost the romantic tone of her earliest correspondence, though she always prefaced them with “My Dear Life” and ended them with “Your Own”. Her letters were

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sometimes undated and always largely unpunctuated, as was the practice in those days before the standardisation of spelling and punctuation. “I think yu ware very lazy”, she wrote to him in Dublin in the last decade of his life, “yu did not write to me last post I am Yr. Own A Ward pray send me as soon as possible half a pound of carroway comfits if Robbins wife has not left send them by her.”

There is scant evidence nowadays in Killough village of its once powerful landlord. His preference for Port St. Anne as its name did not long outlast him. There is not a vestige of his Charter School, though his corn mill is still recognisable, and his “corn road” still cuts arrow-straight across Lecale to Castle Ward. No trace of his original home there still stands, but Castle Ward House, built by his son Bernard between 1761 and 1767 is one of the most attractive properties of Northern Ireland’s National Trust. Bernard became the first Lord Bangor in 1781, a royal favour that eluded his father.

Perhaps Michael’s most lasting legacy is the almost 2000 letters he wrote, now preserved in the NI Public Record Office, giving a fascinating glimpse of life in Down over two and a half centuries ago. Writing in 1983, Rev. W.E. Kennedy, Rector of Strangford, citing the schools, almshouses, roads and employment the Ward family had provided, was generous in their praise: they were not absentee landlords, bent on exploitation. They did a lot of good, and deserve the reputation which they still hold in the district. The learned Judge would surely have been gratified by the compliment.

Fishing In Strangford Lough.

G.W. Skillen

A favourite line used in the Strangford area when fishing for blockan, lythe and mackerel was made from the white breast-feathers of geese. The middle section of the feather was cut or torn off the quill and rolled to form an imitation “fry’” or young herring on which the other fish fed.

A clove-hitch of black linen thread was tied to the end of the lure or “feather” as it was known locally, and the feather was then attached to the back of the hook. Usually the feathers were made to last for a season, but where goose feathers were readily available some fishermen renewed them, varying the length as the herring fry grew. Feather fishing was most effective for blocken and lythe an hour after sundown in currents and eddies and over rock “pladdies” where the fish were wont to feed. When I was young I remember being reprimanded by local fishermen for running over nets and “heads” lying out to dry on the grass-scovered pier at Strangford. “The heads” were floats for the nets ancl they were made from bladders of animals.The neck of the bladder was first stretched over a cotton reel from which the bottom rim was pared off. A piece of cloth or canvas was then wrapped round the bladder neck and over the spool, lapped with twine (or “seized’” as it was called) and varnished to protect the twine from the salt water.The bladder was then blown up by the mouth and a tight fitting spike or plug (coated with Archangel tar) was inserted into the hole in the reel.When the bladder dried out it was painted, usually in two colours, then it was fitted with fine ropes and attached to the head rope of the net. In counting fish I have watched fishermen count out the “long hundred” as : “Forty casts, a cast and a fish,” i.e. 124. In counting the “mease” (pronounced “maze”) there were five long hundreds, i.e. 620 fish.This count applied to herring or blockan.

Small blockan were called “gilpins” by the Stranglorcl fishermen. They were split and sundried on the rocks or on the roofs of the houses. Then they were tied in bundles and hung up in the kitchens of the fishermen’s houses and used during the winter.

Newtownards, Co. Down.

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My Solution Of Mysteries

by E. J. McMullan

Folk memory is a peculiar thing and in and around Strangford are a few examples of how valuable this phenomenon can be. The instances I am referring to are the names given to houses, hills, places and walkways in and around our Village. These have remained long after the ‘reason why’ has gone. Those I have in mind start off with the Royal Rocks. Now the ‘Royal Rocks’ and the associated ‘Green’ have long since disappeared with the building of the Ferry terminal offices but once a short rocky laneway existed there, on it were two thatched cottages on the landward side and the gardens associated with each were across the laneway on the seaward side. Apparently the houses burned down, as was common with thatched cottages, as the ruins remained until bit by bit they were used as stone supply for other structures. By the 1940s they had virtually disappeared leaving only their foundations. The gardens were turned into a public ‘Green’ fort use by residents to sit and admire the view, take the sea air and sunbathe etc. Wesley was said to have preached there in one of his vistas to Ireland. These houses in all probability were the homes of the original ferrymen, the McDonalds, Quails and McDowells. The claim to ‘Royal’ is possibly explained by the visit in July 1903 of Kind Edward VII to Lord deRos. He stepped ashore at the Catherine Quay, but no doubt took a walkabout through the village, possibly stopped to admire the view of the Harbour and Lough from the top of ‘The Rocks’ and they thereby acquired the name ‘Royal’. A fairly safe assumption in my opinion.

Many a cinder bin tumbled off the trucks used to carry them over the uneven surface of the Royal Rocks and the spilled ashes served to fill in the humps and hollows. It was the Saturday job of a few of the village boys to borrow a truck from McMullan’s and Elliot Stores and transport bins full of ashes to the town dump at the Newry Quay and going over the Rocks was a shortcut. Originally the dump was alongside the road to ‘The Slip’. The Newry Quay dump was then used after the more convenient one was filled in behind the retaining wall built in the 1930s. Gradually the Newry Quay too filled in and in the 1950s as if by magic, a wall was built to prevent the village from benefiting from a piece of reclaimed ground filled in by the ashes from the coal fires of the day. I always felt that the right to enclose should have been contested – but then what do I know of the law?

However, all this preamble leads me to another folk memory, the name ‘Newry Quay’. Why should Strangford have a Newry Quay? I was told once that the Newry Timber and Slate Company had a depot there where they stored imported timber. This was quite a trade in the 19th century. The old quay at the Quoile was also used by these ships. As a matter of fact a cousin of my father was killed on Raholp Brae when a load of timber he was carting slipped and he was crushed to death.

Donaghadee was also a depot used by these Scandinavian ships and the Newry Company.

Then by chance I came on another explanation. In 1837, a mere 170 years ago the local paper announced the launch of the SS Victoria. She was a sail assisted steamer, by the look of the advertisement in the issue of the 18th July 1838. It was proposed that she should connect the ports of Strangford, Portaferry, Killyleagh and Ardglass to the wider world, including Newry. She was hailed and lauded as a step to the future and local businessmen saw her as the key to open up all of Lecale to a boom economy. A new quay was put under construction at Killyleagh and an older one in Strangford was reconstructed. It became known and the ‘Newry Quay’ and generations of village residents knew it as such. I prefer the latter explanation to the former one.

Perhaps you would like to know more about the unfortunate and unlucky ship, the SSVictoria. Well from the word go misfortune dogged her stern both from a financial point of view and a physical

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one. After her launch in 1837 she went into service from ‘The Lough’ to Liverpool captained by William Aberdeen. She was 370 tons and had first class accommodation for passengers and cargo.

Her first series of trips made £26 profit on each. Claims of possible improvement in profit were a distinct possibility. To this end numerous changes and experimentations were carried out. On July 18th 1838 a new timetable was published, Strangford to Newry. But financial problems raised their ugly heads and by 12th January, 1839, the night of the big wind, major misfortune struck.

This was a milestone in folk memory. The Victoria ran aground and was badly damaged. She was sold to Coates & Young in November 1839. After repairs in Belfast she and the ‘Earl of Lonsdale’ kept the Strangford to Liverpool run going until again she was wrecked on 19th February’ 1842, on a voyage from Fleetwood to Belfast, this time on Mangold Head, near Ramsey on the Isle of Man. Originally built for £13,000, she was almost a viable proposition but because of her bad luck she never quite made it. She came to grief again on 12th November, 1852, this time with the loss of eight men and that was the end of her short, sad, unfortunate career. I never found out if Captain Aberdeen remained at the helm through those years, if so he was the common factor in all her misfortunes. The question of poor seamanship could have played a part, who knows?

Looking down from a height on the former site of the Newry Quay where the dry dock for the modern Ferry is constructed, is another named item. I refer to ‘The Watch House’. During my childhood families of Swail and Fitzsimons lived in this weird structure. It was neither warm or weatherproof, comfortable or beautiful as a home. Around the outside was a circular staircase which had been covered in by corrugated tin sheets. It had originally been open to the elements and had been the means of access to the roof for the coastguards who had been stationed there in its early days.

In the 18th and 19th centuries smuggling had been a lucrative trade enjoyed by the local seafaring folk of Strangford Lough. The Isle of Man, being a tax free area, was a place where profitable cargo could be acquired, then a swift run in on a night time Spring tide could bring a good financial return. So to counteract this illegality, the coastguard service was created and the narrow entrance of Strangford Lough was saturated with these sailing law keepers. Coastguard cottages were built in the village of Strangford just at the corner of Castle Street and Quarry Hill, also at Kilard and at the White Houses. This was a big influx of new blood into a rather depressed area in those bad old days and perhaps accounts for some of the peculiar names we have in the Strangford area.

The R.I.C. and the coastguard played a very important part in the social life of the village right up to the First World War. But the thing that still reminds us of those hunters of Daft Eddy and his ilk is the old site of the watch house as the watchtower came to be known, with its own quay and old boathouse still intact.

John’s Lane ran from where the Credit Union now stands to the deRos gardens, behind the houses on Castle Street. Why John’s Lane you may ask? Why not Nancy’s or George’s or any number of names. In the 1930s two Johns had connections with this muddy laneway. Johnny Dougherty was one. He had a dairy and he used the lane for his herd of dairy cows twice a day. The mud was a result. They only used it when grazing at Carrycasey. Normally they grazed the two flat fields that became known as the ‘Strawberry Beds’. But then if Johnny had given his name to the lane would it not have been Johnny’s Lane?

The other possibility was that it was called after John Sweetman. He ran a drapery shop in Castle Street and his property backed on to the lane. However he was not a friendly man, in fact rather forbidding with a grey beard and a stern expression, a bit like my own. So in that case it is more likely that the lane would have been called ‘Mr Sweetman’s Lane’. I must admit that in this particular case, the mystery must remain.

A final explanation of another name from the past, the ‘The Clay Hollows Brae’ came to my wandering eye when I discovered in an old newspaper of 1880 a reference to the discovery of an extensive bed of clay near Strangford. The newspaper report of the day said it was 20 – 30 acres 42

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in extent and 10ft thick. An example of the red clay was sent to Belfast and a Dr J F Hodges recommended its use in the making of tiles, bricks and fine pottery. The very fine sand in the clay could be washed out. He also commented that the deep water port of Strangford could be used to export the manufactured goods. Would that not have been a boon to our village? Obviously nothing came of the idea and all we have left to remind us of what might have been, is the name of the little hill on the Shore Road near Isle O’Valla, in the townland of Ferryquarter, then owned

by Major Andrew Nugent – the name – The Clay Hollow’s Brae.

These are just a few more snippets of knowledge revealed by your own History Group in action – Maybe!!

Happy at his work

by P.J. Lennon

There is probably no face around Strangford more easily recognised than that of ebullient John Sullivan. John is a merry chap at any time of the day and always radiates a constant state of good humour. When he left school he started work as labourer and dissatisfied at home he spent a period in Wales.

Work wasn’t particularly plentiful there and so one night when he was enjoying himself at the pictures he began to think about returning home. “I was well aware that the work situation was no more healthy at home so I decided that I would leave it to the spin of a coin.” John tossed a half-crown in the air and when it fell to earth the decision was that he would go home.

Not long after he returned to his native soil John was employed on the Oldcourt Estate and remained there until quite recently.

When he left Oldcourt he had completed fifteen years. John is labouring in a new job going into this new year and he is content; but then John Sullivan is like many another in this world of ours all he needs to keep him happy is a job, fair pay and three square meals.

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The Savage Armstrongs

Major Armstrong

‘The Major’ lived up at the ‘lawn’. That was what we called the stand of greenery shielding Strangford House from the gaze of the lower order. The outer retaining wall of the drive was of dry stone construction and seemed to encourage a prolific growth of Red Valerian in its crevasses and hollows, a colourful display in each and every early summer of my childhood years.

The Major was a quiet, unassuming man who minded his own business, a silent man, in fact I never even remember hearing his voice and therefore can’t tell if he had an English accent or not. Most of the aristocracy or gentry or Anglo Irish did have a mid Irish Sea accent like the Wards, the Cooks, the Armitages and the Coates-Coles and De knoops. The Major was part of the Strangford Regatta Committee in the 1930s, he was also one of the few inhabitants of the Village who owned a motor car. I’m unsure of the make but it was a three cylinder vehicle and had its own distinctive engine sound as it came down the Front Street at a stately pace, the Major himself at the wheel and his sister Gwendolyn ensconced beside him. I seem to remember it as a dark bottle green colour with bodywork and chrome polished to gleaming perfection, as they used to say ‘like a nigger’s heel’. I suppose I am not allowed to say that now but I am only quoting.

Someone told me once that the make was either Riley or Singer and now that I think of it, it did sound a bit like a sewing machine.

But his garden was the Major’s delight. It was 100% tilled. Vegetables, gooseberries, apples, pears, blackcurrant, red currants and rhubarb and to my shame, myself and James, sampled each and every one – except the vegetables and rhubarb that is, each fruit in its season titillated our palettes. The Major’s garden was a veritable fortress. In places the wall was over 30ft high in others a mere 20ft, just a doddle to clever sneak thieves like myself and my companion. Our trick was to borrow a ladder from Lady Una Ross’s garden, which held nothing enticing to tempt our taste buds, carry the ladder out onto John’s Lane and scale the Major’s wall. Beside the little watchtower, steps ran down into the garden, so the only difficulty was to get up the outside wall. Our exit, however, was a little more difficult with bulging pockets it did make it rather awkward. However, it meant that we could only carry a limited cargo and I suppose, with just infrequent forays depending on Bob Sullivan leaving a ladder in a convenient spot in Lady Una’s garden, we did not kill the goose that laid the golden egg. And so over the space of many years the bold James and I succeeded in gathering a succulent harvest whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The reason for my feeling of shame for my past misdeeds perpetrated on the unfortunate Major was that during the War (1939/45), an American soldier presented my family with a chess set with 44

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a bishop missing. My brother Des went to the Major with the other bishop for he knew that there was a foot lathe in his garage and with great generosity of spirit, a bishop was turned and painted black by the kindly man. However, there was a kind if reciprocation, for when Gwendolyn needed a winter coat and did not have enough coupons, my mother, then in the drapery trade, was able to supply some coupons on the Black Market. At first Gwen, who was a Sunday School teacher at Ballyculter, was horrified at the idea, feeling that she was showing disloyalty to her country but in a week or so she submitted to the temptation and bought the coat with an extra few shillings for the coupons.

Unknown to me throughout all those years and up to about four months ago, that is the spring of 2006, the Major had a hidden background, a claim to fame through his family of which I was completely unaware. It was revealed to me by chance, just a fleeting glance at a page from the Downpatrick Recorder of July 28th 1906. It was the report on the death of George Francis Savage-Armstrong. The report was written in the overflowing flowery style of that day and age when newspapers seemed to strive to writhe and grovel verbally when writing of the gentry.

Nevertheless the facts do shine through, for the man was a leading light, a master of the written word and quite prolific in the number of poems that flowed from the point of his pen.

(Whoops am I not waxing poetical myself)? His connection with the Major is not mentioned but by putting two and two together I deduce that George Francis was the Grandfather of the Major. The Major himself went off to the War of 1914/18 and returned wounded in the mouth but a much luckier man than 20 or 30 thousand others who perished from this part of the world.

But of the Major I will write on a future day, feeling, as I do that guilt complex for my youthful treachery maybe 60 years ago.

The Grandfather, George Francis Savage-Armstrong was born in 1815 in County Dublin the third and only surviving son of E J Armstrong, J.P. His mother Jane was daughter and co-heiress of the Rev Henry Savage, the Minister Ardkeen of Ardkeen in the Ards. The Savages, as you no doubt know, were the Anglo Norman Lords of most of the Ards Peninsula centered on Glastry.

Henry married Marie Elizabeth, youngest daughter of the Rev John Wrixon, M.A.Vicar of Malone. Much later on in 1891, E J assumed the name of Savage-Armstrong on the death of an uncle, the conditions of inheritance in the uncle’s will no doubt.

Edmund Armstrong

George Francis became a student and later, one of the more illustrious alumni of Trinity College, Dublin, and progressed, with his elder brother Edmund to the highest circles of Irish Literature.

Unfortunately Edmund died at the young age of 23 but not before he himself writing a hundred or so poetical works published by Longmans in 1877. He wrote of Irish themes, of travels in France and stories from classical times in a rather more romantic and idealistic style than today’s taste would demand. His younger brother, George, wrote on similar themes and became known as ‘the Poet of Wicklow’. He also wrote extensively of County Down, for both counties were dear to his heart. he produced two volumes - ‘Stories of Wicklow’ and ‘Ballads of Down’ in a fruitful, poetic lifetime. For the tercentenary of Dublin University, he wrote an ode which was set to music by his colleague, Professor Robert Stewart (Musdoc), and another ode ‘Victoria Regina’ in praise of Queen Victoria on her Diamond Jubilee. After all he came from the privileged ranks of the Anglo Irish who were very much ‘West Britain’ in their attitudes and loyalties. Trinity awarded him with an M.A. and a Doctorate in recognition of his abilities as he kept piling manuscript

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upon manuscript. His trilogy ‘King Saul’ 1871, ‘King David’ 1874 and King Solomon lead on to further poems and odes and in 1892 he produced ‘One In The Infinite’, a philosophical work.

In 1862 at the age of 47 he received an appointment in Dublin and got his matriculation from Trinity, his Doctorate, and then became Fellow of the Royal University of Ireland. He was appointed Professor in English and History at University College Cork, in 1871 and retired in 1875 to the seclusion of Strangford House. Rich is the storehouse of knowledge he left us, it would otherwise have been lost forever. Nuggets and treasures are hidden in his folk tales and rhymes, hidden in all the writing he reeled out in reams. Like his tale of McCanity, the fairy of Scrabo, maddened by the chink of the stone chisels on the flank of his beloved Scrabo Hill as half the hillside was quarried away to beautify the designs of the modern architects of the time.

Or the old ‘Bell of Ardkeen’, stolen and transported over the sea, but after many years returned.

Rich too is the collection of old ghost stories and even his description of characters who lived in that time like the old beggar he called ‘Holy Brigid’. The poem is worth quoting for it brought a smile to my face when I read it. It is only four verses (Page 59 ‘Ballads of Down).

Holy Bridget The auld gaber lungie sae raggit an’ spare That used tae gang leppin’ alang Wi’ a skep an’ a twerl, an’ a bedlamite sang“Holy Bridget” they ca’d him, a cause, as he went “Holy Bridget” a’ day wus his cry, As he stuck hissel’ oot wi’ a sliver an’ bent Tae beg o’ the stranger near by.

Auld John o’Ralloo was sae braid i’the belt An’ sae plump wi’ guid leevin he grew That “Holy” wud sigh, “och, a’ wash a just dwelt In the belly o’John O’Ralloo.

“Holy Bridget” haes vanished, an’ niver a frien’ Wull care in what hole he may dee.

But I won’er what doom in the wurl’ wi’ oot en’ Waits sic’ an a craytur as he.

Another poem is ‘Sweet Portaferry’. (On next page).When he penned these lines, George had in his mind one of the tunes collected by Edward Bunting, the organist of St Anne’s Cathedral in Belfast at the 1792 Harp Festival. It has been set and re-arranged by Marcella McMullan and Careen Starkey and may be of interest to future generations.

Professor George Francis Savage-Armstrong passed away in Strangford House and was laid to rest in Ardkeen among the family of which he was so proud, on Thursday 26th July, 1906. The old bell at Strangford House was tolled and his coffin carried down to the Slip in Strangford by relays of Coastguard and R.I.C. The local gentry sent wreaths and the ‘dummy McDowell’s’ ferryboat was garlanded with flowers as it transported the ‘Poet’ to his last resting place. The Major was too young to be even mentioned among the cortège but his father either Mr F or Mr R Armstrong was mentioned among the chief mourners. The family led a respectable, quiet, introverted life throughout all the years since, leaving the Major and his sister Gwen in genteel comfort in a small Village where they were highly respected, along the shores of Lough Cuan where they, in time too disappeared into obscurity.

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Dear home of my sires by the blue waves of Cuan, Sweet, sweet Portaferry of the ivy-clad towers, Where in childhood I ranged every dell the ferns grew in, And gathered in handfuls bluebell-flowers CHOURS Farewell! I leave thee, afar to wander, Alone, alone, over land and sea; But wherever I roam, O, my heart will grow tender, Sweet, sweet Portaferry, in dreaming of thee!

CHOURS

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Extracts from Home Words 1878 Chapter V January 1878 continued. February issue missing. March 1878 From the mouth of the lough the Isle of Man is distant about thirty miles, and in clear weather can be distinctly seen from many points in the neighbourhood, thus being a not unimportant feature in the landscape. A glance at the map will show that this island lies nearly between Strangford Lough and the district of Furness in Lancashire, which is noted for the thriving manufacturing town of Barrow, and for the celebrated Cistercian Abbey of Furness. We mention this, as allusion will hereafter be made to the latter, with reference to one or two of the Abbeys situated on our lough.

The run of the tide is extremely rapid being about 7½ knots an hour in the Narrows, near Bankmore (a sandbank a mile south of Portaferry on the Ards side) and about five or six knots between Rock Angus and Pladdy Lug. At Bankmore there is a kind of whirlpool called the Routing Wheel, supposed to be occasioned by a chasm under the water.

Strangford, a small ancient trading town, in the parish of Ballyculter, is situated on the Westside of the lough, at a distance of six miles from Downpatrick and about three from the open sea. It is recorded in some of the old annals that in the year A.D. 1400 “the constable of Dublin city, with divers and others, fought a great sea battle here against the Scots in which many of the English were slain”. In the time of Queen Elizabeth (16th century) there was a castle maintained here for securing the peace of the country. The following extracts from one of the Irish State papers, in this reign directly refers to Strangford at that period:- “1567, March 17, The Lord Treasurer of England, writing to the Lord Deputy, Sidney, recommends him to send the barks, with ordnance to take Strangford Haven from Shane O’Neill and to remove the troops hither from Derry”. And in 1601, Sir Ralph Lane writes to Cecil, that the “ports of Olderfleet, Carlingford and Lough Cuan, by the river Strangford are assured to the Spaniards by Tyrone and O’Donnell”, and immediately afterwards he enclosed to the same statesman his project for preserving Lough Strangford against all the forces of the Spanish power, by which it was at that time menaced.

The manor of Strangford was granted by Henry VIII, to Gerald Fitz-Gerald, Earl of Kildare, to whom all the grand and petty customs were given by letters patent. They continued in that family until the Earl of Kildare sold the same to Charles I A.D. 1637, in the time of the Earl of Strafford (Lord Deputy of Ireland) and were then said to be worth to the king £5000 per annum and were confirmed to his successors. The present possessor is Lord de Ros, a descendent of the Earls of Kildare.

Strangford Castle, one of the old Anglo-Norman keeps situated in the town, is strongly built, the walls varying from about three to four feet in thickness. The building is nearly equal in width and breadth, measuring rather over twenty-five feet each way. The height of the building is about forty-one feet and there are three windows in each of the apartments which form the three storeys of the structure. It stands near the shore, being still in a tolerably complete state.

The town is directly opposite to Portaferry from which it is separated by a ferry about half a mile in width; the traffic between the two places being carried on by means of small sailing boats. The population in 1871 was 482. There are piers for the convenience of boats, and quays for enabling vessels to discharge their cargoes. Swan Island, a small islet immediately opposite receives its name from the belief that swans formerly resorted thither. It assists in forming the safe and convenient harbour of Strangford. There are a constabulary barrack and postal telegraph office in the town; also a coastguard station, the Inspector of the district being resident here.

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Chapter VI

April 1878

Old Court, the picturesque seat of Lord de Ros, adjoining the town of Strangford, extends along the shore of the lough; and from an eminence (the Compass Hill) within its bounds, one of the most attractive and extensive views in the neighbourhood is obtained. The place affords great advantages as a marine residence, and conduces greatly to the enjoyment of yachting in possessing a commodious harbourage for boats of various descriptions. The chapel (with cemetery attached to it) is situated in these grounds and was built, Harris says,“and the bell given by Valentine Payne, or Pain and Elizabeth his wife in the year 1629. It was subsequently repaired and improved by the Earl of Kildare, to whom the town then belonged”. The inscription on the bell above referred to is as follows:- Valentine Pain and his wife Elizabeth gave this bell, and built this chapel, anno 1629; and it is said this Valentine was agent to the Earl of Kildare”. The chapel, which is the property of Lord de Ros, is by his permission used as a chapel of ease for the parish, and public worship is regularly celebrated in it.

Portaferry, partly in the parish of Ardquin, partly in that of Ballyphilip, is situated on the eastern side of the inlet of the sea that forms the entrance to Strangford Lough. It obviously derives its name from its position on the ferry, which is the main line of communication between the baronies of Ards and Lecale, and, at one period, it was a place of considerable trade. Harris states that before his time thirty or forty ships had belonged to the port, but they were then reduced to two; the hometrade being limited principally to the transmission of corn, and small quantities of Kelp, to Dublin, and to the import of the ordinary commodities necessary to supply the wants of the vicinity. The trade however, revived considerably after that period, employing a number of ships, either in the conveyance of emigrants or in foreign traffic, but these branches of commerce have again fallen off. There are still several vessels engaged in the carrying trade and doubtless, should the scheme of an Ards Railway (which is again projected) ever be realised, Portaferry may obtain an important standing in a commercial point of view. In this way it can boast of great facilities on account of its situation at so short a distance from the mouth of the lough, and the convenience of its landing piers and quays.

The position of the town gives it the command of a fine prospect southward down the river to the open sea, and in the contrary direction, over the greater part of Lough Coyne. At first it was only a small collection of cottages, built under the protection of the fort or castle, but it gradually grew into a considerable town. The latter now consists of a square and three principal streets, with a range of houses erected along the shore. The market house was occupied in the year 1798 as a place of resistance by a party of yeomanry, who repulsed an attack made on it by a body of insurgents. The church is now within the precincts of the town, having been transferred from the ancient site at Ballyphilip. It was erected in 1787. The Presbyterian place of worship is a large and substantial building.

The town of Portaferry owes its origin to a castle (which is still standing) built by the first of the Savages, at the latter end of the 12th century; and the place being well secured and garrisoned by that family, its situation on the strait made it a post of great importance in all the subsequent wars, during which neither it nor the neighbouring district of the Southern Ards ever fell into the hands of the Irish chiefs. Considerable additions were made to this castle, and finished in the year 1636, as appears by an inscription over the door.

Chapter VII

June 1878

The demesne of Portaferry possesses great attractions in point of natural beauty. The well wooded grounds extending on undulating slopes to the shore, offer from various points a lovely and interesting prospect; both up and down the lake. The town and demesne and adjacent extensive

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property belong to Colonel Andrew Nugent, whose grandfather, Andrew Savage, assumed the name of Nugent in 1814, on inheriting the estates of his uncle, Governor Nugent, at Dysart, in the county Westmeath. Burke also states that the original ancestor of the Savages established himself at Portaferry under John de Courcy, as one of his Anglo-Norman followers; and that by a written document dated September 1st 1205, in the Tower of London, we find, “Robin, son of William Savage, as one of De Courcey’s hostagee for his appearance before King John”.

Castleward, the residence of Viscount Bangor, is situated exactly opposite to Portaferry. It extends for some distance along the shores of the lough, and is remarkable for variety of scenery and picturesque and extensive views, which comprise a great portion of the surrounding country and almost the whole expanse of Strangford Lough. The plantations, some of which skirt the waters edge, are numerous; and the yew terraces, singular for size and beauty, must be of great antiquity.

The house stands on an eminence, about a mile from Strangford; and the rare scene of wood and water there presented to the eye, must be peculiarly attractive to the lover of the beautiful.

Castleward derives its name from a castle erected when the Ward family first settled in Ireland; but the place was anciently called Carrick-na-Sheannagh; i.e. The Fox’s Rock.

Audley’s Castle, which is in a conspicuous position, on a point of land jutting out into the lough, is within the precincts of Castleward demesne. The ruins is partially covered with ivy, and has become somewhat injured by time; but the walls, to the height of nearly forty feet, are still in good preservation. In dimensions it is about thirty feet square. It commands a prospect of the whole lake, to the north end of it at Newtownards and in the other direction towards Downpatrick.

The name of the castle shows it to have been built by one of the Audley’s who settled here under John de Courcy; and an unpublished map of Ulster preserved in the State Paper Office, designates (amongst others) the sites of Audley’s and Walshe’s Castles, as within the ancient settlement founded

by De Courcy in the infancy of the English government in Ireland. An arrowhead was found a few years back lodged in the walls, and at various times great numbers of human bones have been dug up at the foot of the hill on which the castle stands, thus intimating that this locality must have been a scene of warfare at some remote period.

Another old castle is to be seen in the farmyard, the exact date of which has not been ascertained; and out, from its close resemblance to the one at Kilclief, it might, we consider, be ranked amongst the Anglo-Norman castles.

Although some records place the erection of Kilclief Castle at a later date of the fourteenth century, it seems difficult to separate it from the earlier ones on account of the similarity they all bear to each other in importance of position within, one may say, a stones throw of the lough. The reason for thus erecting them can well be imagined when we take into consideration what means of defence they must have proved to the English invaders in their newly acquired dominions.

In a subdenomination of the townland of Audleystown, called Tubberdoney, adjoining Castleward, there are the remains of a chapel. A small enclosure around the ruins marks the boundary of an ancient cemetery which was used for burials up to the commencement of this century. The church is called Temple Cormac, Cormac’s Church but, unfortunately, its history is lost. The well that gives name to Tubberdoney is called by the people “Sunday-well”, which seems to be an accurate translation of its Irish name. It is situated a few perches from the shore of Strangford Lough, and is almost concealed in a thicket of thorns and briers. Harris mentions an artificial cave at Tubberdoney.

A little farther round to the left, close to the lough, is to be observed Walshestown Castle, one of the most perfect remains of all the old Norman towers. It was the seat of a family named Walsh, one of whom served on the jury of the county of Down in 1613. It was inhabited by Mr Foster Anderson, the former owner, and his ancestors from the time of Charles I. There once stood a chapel, traditionally called St Mary’s near this castle, in the townland of Walshestown. The latter 50

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was named in olden times “Cnockengarre” (i.e. The Short Hillock), and lies in the northern extremity of Saul parish. The rectory of Knockagar, alias Ballywalsh, was appropriate to the abbey of St Patrick. Dr Reeves mentions that “the cemetery was ploughed up several years ago; and the only trace of the chapel now remaining, to mark its site, is a small portion of one of the walls, standing in a ditch and covered with thorns”.

No Pockets in a Shroud Submitted by George McKibbin

Out of this life I shall never take Things of silver and gold I make All that I cherish and hoard away After I leave this earth, must stay.

Though I have toiled for a painting rare To hang on the wall I must leave it there, Though I call it mine and boast its worth I must give it up when I leave this earth.

All that I gather and all that I keep I must leave behind when I fall asleep.

And I often wonder what I shall own In that other life when I pass alone.

And what shall God find and what shall He see In the soul that answers the call for me.

Shall the Great Judge find when my task is through That my spirit has gathered some riches too.

Or shall at last be it mine to find That all I worked for, left behind.

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Summer

by E. J. McMullan Lazy smoke rises languid in long flowing spiral up into a light, light, light grey sky.

Lit by the evening setting sun just on the horizon, and the warmth of a summer’s day fades to coolness and to twilight.

Beyond the range of hills at Ballymagreehan and Magheramayo.

An all pervading aura of smoky pink, blushes the still landscape, while on the skyline, a back lit line of trees takes on the look of lunging horsemen at the gallop.

The atmosphere and unreal colour is hardly recognizable as natural, and yet it is.

Combine this with the lonely sound of a single seagull’s cry, alone she glides and swoops with echoing quality to her call, ethereal and again unreal, what is her message?

A warning? A claim to territory? A reassurance to her brood?

Certainly something beyond my ken.

And yet the cry, the colour in the west, the quiet solitude that pervades the land creates a perfect summer evening, made for daydreaming, reminiscences, remembering and jotting down thoughts like these.

You may ask why do I do it For my children, that they might read my more intimate thoughts say I. Sad to say though, from past experience they tend to laugh and scoff at my remembered tales.

Dear reader, try not to emulate them, lest you rob me of my self esteem.

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Notes

Wishing You A Merry, Happy and Prosperous Christmas

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