Historical Sketches - Dalry
Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2022 5:20 pm
NO. 1
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 12th May 1855
Few towns are more favourably-situated, and command a finer view of hill and dale and winding stream — those characteristics of Scottish scenery — so agreeable to the eye, as the subject of the present sketch. It is seated on a beautiful round eminence overlooking the river Garnock, and bounded on either side by the Calf[sic] and the Rye. It is conjectured by some that the parish takes its name from the latter streamlet, being, as Pont says, "The hauch, or home, of the river Rye". But the word Dalry is more probably derived from the Gaelic Dail-righ, which signifies, "The King's Valley or Plain". This is all the more likely as the district was anciently under the royal jurisdiction; and a field, on part of which the village is built, still bears the name of Croft-angry—a supposed corruption of Croft-an-righ, or Croft of the King.
Although the town itself is not of very ancient origin, several of the principal families who at one period owned estates in the parish can date their origin as far back as the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and can boast of not a few names who bore an honourable and not inconspicuous part in the history of the times. The principal family—still resident in the parish—Blair of Blair, was at one time the chief of all the Blairs in the south and west country, and Harry, the blind minstrel, has immortalized the patriotism of Sir Bryce Blair, who was put to death by the English in the Barns of Ayr for having joined Wallace in his defence of the liberties of his country.
"Schir Bryss the Blair, next, with his eyme* in past,
On to the ded thei haistyt him full fast;
Be he entrit, hys hed was in the swar
Tytt to the bawk [bauk], hongyt to ded rycht thar."
The Crawfords of Baidland trace their origin to a younger son of a Hugh Crawford who appears in a transaction in 1225, and whose son (Sir Reginald) was that Sheriff of Ayr who was murdered by the English garrison of Ayr, in 1297. The names of the Linns of that Ilk, a family now long extinct, are also found in records of the twelfth century; and one of this family is supposed to be the hero of that fine old ballad, "The Heir of Linn," of which Motherwell gives from tradition the commencement, thus:
"The bonnie Heir, the weelfaur'd Heir,
And the weary Heir of Linn,
Yonder he stands at his father's gate,
And naebody bids him come in."
And the Kers of Kersland, were most ancient and honourable, suffering frequently for the cause of freedom. One of the family, Robert Ker, after many sufferings and long imprisonment, ended his days an exile in Holland, in 1680, leaving his wife and family to the tender mercies of his foes. His estates were confiscated at the time, and were not restored till the Revolution.
The ancient importance of the parish is also attested by the remains of an ancient fortification on the summit of Caerwinning Hill, where it is believed the Scottish army was encamped previous to the battle of Largs; by the ruins of a square fort which stood at one period on the banks of the Rye, on the brink of a precipitous rock called the Atnach Crag, but which are now removed; and by the existence of ancient mounds, stones, tumuli, cairns, urns, old weapons, &c., which have from time to time been discovered. There is no record, however, of any part of the parish ever having been the scene of those civil conflicts which at one period were common in the country, and which throws around particular localities the interest which is ever associated with scenes hallowed by important historical events.
In ancient times, when the belief in a spiritual agency was more popular than it is in the present day, there was one particular place in the parish celebrated as the favourite haunt of those sprites which wandered everywhere over hill and dale, and who
"The globe could compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon."
The place is a large grotto or cave in the natural stratta on the banks of the Dusk, still frequently visited, and in olden times called the "Elffe-house." The compiler of the Statistical Account says "It is above forty feet above the bed of the stream, and is covered by about thirty feet of rock and earth. It has two entrances. The western or main entrance is situated below a vast over-hanging rock, thirty feet long by twenty-seven in breadth, the brow of which is covered by the mountain-ash, hazel, and two large plane trees, which give it a picturesque appearance. Its interior resembles gothic arched work. Part of the roof is supported by two massive columns. Its length is about a hundred and eighty-three feet, and breadth from five to twelve. Near the middle it expands into a spacious chamber thirty-five feet long by twelve broad and twelve high. Its internal surface is covered by calcareous incrustations; and numerous crevices branch off from its sides." Visitors can easily procure the services of a guide and lighted lantern, and when the lantern is waved to and fro, the crystallized rock and the water dropping from the roof, sparkle with the brilliancy of tire-flies. It is not surprising that such a spot was believed to be the haunt of Elves. They loved to frequent caves, streams, and fountains; and the Poet has beautifully imagined
"A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
Their stolen children, so to make them free
From dying flesh and dull mortality."
As might be expected, a district possessing such a fairy home would long entertain a belief in their existence; and stories would be in general circulation tending to confirm the popular mind. One of these stories, from the pen of Lieutenant Fullarton of Overton, is worthy of quoting entire, which is given as rehearsed by the individual to whom the circumstance occurred:
WILLIE MACKIE AND THE WARD WITCHES.
I'm no surprised (proceeds Willie,) that you are curious to hear the story of my rencounter with the Ward Witches; to many a one have I told that tale, and though it be now fifty years since, it is as fresh in my memory as if it had happened but yesterday—l was amaist frightened out o' my wits. The farm of Ward is in the Braes of Dalry, and at the time I was living in the Bretcha, a place far up the muirs in Caafglen, in the same quarter. I had a bit errand down at Dairy that night, and was taigled far past my wish. But the night was good—the moon about the full, and we muirland bodies, ye ken, are no that eerie, be it in muir or dale. So I set out. After I left the cart-road, I took straight to the bentheads, and from that struck down on my own house, the Bretcha. But as I crossed a burn, a short way south of the Ward, on a sudden I hears the sound of the bagpipes, and as if a multitude of voices singing the old tune "O'er the hills and far awa." I heard clearly the first two verses of the song:
Our[sic] the hills and far awa
The wind has blawn my plaid awa,
My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
The wind has blawn my plaid awa.
Its no my plaid but its my sheet
That keeps me fray the wind and weet,
Wind and weet, cauld frost and snaw,
The wind hath blawn my plaid awa.
At the time I thought it might be some miller and his men—friends and sucken, gaun through the muir to the Kame hill for a millstone—a thing at that time of the year no uncommon, and that being a near cut to the quarry. But I was cheated. In a moment I was surrounded with hundreds of men and women, all in light short dresses and long white staffs in their hands. They were all on foot, except the piper, who was mounted on a high black horse; and ay as they danced and yelled far about, I thought the earth shook beneath me, with the roaring and bumming of the pipes. The sound of their voices was terrible, as they struck in at the chorus, and its echo rang far and wide through the black hills about us. I now began to guess clearly enough what sort of a company I was among; and suspecting they would play off their infernal cantraps against me, I looked how I might get out of their toils. At times, they seemed to part and gather into bunches, and I tried to get out at the openings which were thus made in their hellish ring. But no. Ever as I made for ony part, back or fore, as fast did they close it up!
And as I ran from place to place, the sweet ran aff me with fear, and my hair almost lifted my bonnet aff my head, whilst at every step it seemed as if I had been up to the knees in a bog! At length I got away from them, at the very place where I first came in. They disappeared all in a moment, so that I could see nothing of how they went; but from the direction they came on me, I thought they were going to the westward. With a great faught I crossed the burn again and got to the Ward farm house, praising God for my deliverance out of the hands of such a legion of devils, whom doubtless, but that they were restrained by his merciful interposition, intended me..............[fold in the paper]. I got the people wakened, and remained all night with them. Next day being the Sabbath, I went down with the family to the kirk, and I can never forget the first man I saw there was one of the Ward gentry standing at the Plate. He hung down his head when he saw me—nae laughing or dancing with him now—he was one of the elders of the parish kirk! Many a one of them I knew, both of my neighbours and others, for twenty miles round, but hundreds there were whom I never saw before nor since. I had another meeting with the piper long after, and did not fail to hint to him the occasion of our former acquaintance. This took place also on my road home from Dairy. Coming up to me, he said he was on his way home to the Largs, and asked to accompany me. I could not well refuse, but determined to keep a strick eye on him, and to let him go foremost for fear of his pranks. Nothing, however, occurred betwixt us; and when I took down the riggs to my own house, the piper remarked, "you'l soon be home by me, who is not half-way yet." I told him, if he had the same horse he had that night I last met him, he would be home before me yet, short as my road was !
"The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanished?
Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had staid!
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner?"
To be Continued.
________________________________________
* Eyme, Eme, Eim – an uncle by the mother's side.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 12th May 1855
Few towns are more favourably-situated, and command a finer view of hill and dale and winding stream — those characteristics of Scottish scenery — so agreeable to the eye, as the subject of the present sketch. It is seated on a beautiful round eminence overlooking the river Garnock, and bounded on either side by the Calf[sic] and the Rye. It is conjectured by some that the parish takes its name from the latter streamlet, being, as Pont says, "The hauch, or home, of the river Rye". But the word Dalry is more probably derived from the Gaelic Dail-righ, which signifies, "The King's Valley or Plain". This is all the more likely as the district was anciently under the royal jurisdiction; and a field, on part of which the village is built, still bears the name of Croft-angry—a supposed corruption of Croft-an-righ, or Croft of the King.
Although the town itself is not of very ancient origin, several of the principal families who at one period owned estates in the parish can date their origin as far back as the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and can boast of not a few names who bore an honourable and not inconspicuous part in the history of the times. The principal family—still resident in the parish—Blair of Blair, was at one time the chief of all the Blairs in the south and west country, and Harry, the blind minstrel, has immortalized the patriotism of Sir Bryce Blair, who was put to death by the English in the Barns of Ayr for having joined Wallace in his defence of the liberties of his country.
"Schir Bryss the Blair, next, with his eyme* in past,
On to the ded thei haistyt him full fast;
Be he entrit, hys hed was in the swar
Tytt to the bawk [bauk], hongyt to ded rycht thar."
The Crawfords of Baidland trace their origin to a younger son of a Hugh Crawford who appears in a transaction in 1225, and whose son (Sir Reginald) was that Sheriff of Ayr who was murdered by the English garrison of Ayr, in 1297. The names of the Linns of that Ilk, a family now long extinct, are also found in records of the twelfth century; and one of this family is supposed to be the hero of that fine old ballad, "The Heir of Linn," of which Motherwell gives from tradition the commencement, thus:
"The bonnie Heir, the weelfaur'd Heir,
And the weary Heir of Linn,
Yonder he stands at his father's gate,
And naebody bids him come in."
And the Kers of Kersland, were most ancient and honourable, suffering frequently for the cause of freedom. One of the family, Robert Ker, after many sufferings and long imprisonment, ended his days an exile in Holland, in 1680, leaving his wife and family to the tender mercies of his foes. His estates were confiscated at the time, and were not restored till the Revolution.
The ancient importance of the parish is also attested by the remains of an ancient fortification on the summit of Caerwinning Hill, where it is believed the Scottish army was encamped previous to the battle of Largs; by the ruins of a square fort which stood at one period on the banks of the Rye, on the brink of a precipitous rock called the Atnach Crag, but which are now removed; and by the existence of ancient mounds, stones, tumuli, cairns, urns, old weapons, &c., which have from time to time been discovered. There is no record, however, of any part of the parish ever having been the scene of those civil conflicts which at one period were common in the country, and which throws around particular localities the interest which is ever associated with scenes hallowed by important historical events.
In ancient times, when the belief in a spiritual agency was more popular than it is in the present day, there was one particular place in the parish celebrated as the favourite haunt of those sprites which wandered everywhere over hill and dale, and who
"The globe could compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon."
The place is a large grotto or cave in the natural stratta on the banks of the Dusk, still frequently visited, and in olden times called the "Elffe-house." The compiler of the Statistical Account says "It is above forty feet above the bed of the stream, and is covered by about thirty feet of rock and earth. It has two entrances. The western or main entrance is situated below a vast over-hanging rock, thirty feet long by twenty-seven in breadth, the brow of which is covered by the mountain-ash, hazel, and two large plane trees, which give it a picturesque appearance. Its interior resembles gothic arched work. Part of the roof is supported by two massive columns. Its length is about a hundred and eighty-three feet, and breadth from five to twelve. Near the middle it expands into a spacious chamber thirty-five feet long by twelve broad and twelve high. Its internal surface is covered by calcareous incrustations; and numerous crevices branch off from its sides." Visitors can easily procure the services of a guide and lighted lantern, and when the lantern is waved to and fro, the crystallized rock and the water dropping from the roof, sparkle with the brilliancy of tire-flies. It is not surprising that such a spot was believed to be the haunt of Elves. They loved to frequent caves, streams, and fountains; and the Poet has beautifully imagined
"A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
Their stolen children, so to make them free
From dying flesh and dull mortality."
As might be expected, a district possessing such a fairy home would long entertain a belief in their existence; and stories would be in general circulation tending to confirm the popular mind. One of these stories, from the pen of Lieutenant Fullarton of Overton, is worthy of quoting entire, which is given as rehearsed by the individual to whom the circumstance occurred:
WILLIE MACKIE AND THE WARD WITCHES.
I'm no surprised (proceeds Willie,) that you are curious to hear the story of my rencounter with the Ward Witches; to many a one have I told that tale, and though it be now fifty years since, it is as fresh in my memory as if it had happened but yesterday—l was amaist frightened out o' my wits. The farm of Ward is in the Braes of Dalry, and at the time I was living in the Bretcha, a place far up the muirs in Caafglen, in the same quarter. I had a bit errand down at Dairy that night, and was taigled far past my wish. But the night was good—the moon about the full, and we muirland bodies, ye ken, are no that eerie, be it in muir or dale. So I set out. After I left the cart-road, I took straight to the bentheads, and from that struck down on my own house, the Bretcha. But as I crossed a burn, a short way south of the Ward, on a sudden I hears the sound of the bagpipes, and as if a multitude of voices singing the old tune "O'er the hills and far awa." I heard clearly the first two verses of the song:
Our[sic] the hills and far awa
The wind has blawn my plaid awa,
My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
The wind has blawn my plaid awa.
Its no my plaid but its my sheet
That keeps me fray the wind and weet,
Wind and weet, cauld frost and snaw,
The wind hath blawn my plaid awa.
At the time I thought it might be some miller and his men—friends and sucken, gaun through the muir to the Kame hill for a millstone—a thing at that time of the year no uncommon, and that being a near cut to the quarry. But I was cheated. In a moment I was surrounded with hundreds of men and women, all in light short dresses and long white staffs in their hands. They were all on foot, except the piper, who was mounted on a high black horse; and ay as they danced and yelled far about, I thought the earth shook beneath me, with the roaring and bumming of the pipes. The sound of their voices was terrible, as they struck in at the chorus, and its echo rang far and wide through the black hills about us. I now began to guess clearly enough what sort of a company I was among; and suspecting they would play off their infernal cantraps against me, I looked how I might get out of their toils. At times, they seemed to part and gather into bunches, and I tried to get out at the openings which were thus made in their hellish ring. But no. Ever as I made for ony part, back or fore, as fast did they close it up!
And as I ran from place to place, the sweet ran aff me with fear, and my hair almost lifted my bonnet aff my head, whilst at every step it seemed as if I had been up to the knees in a bog! At length I got away from them, at the very place where I first came in. They disappeared all in a moment, so that I could see nothing of how they went; but from the direction they came on me, I thought they were going to the westward. With a great faught I crossed the burn again and got to the Ward farm house, praising God for my deliverance out of the hands of such a legion of devils, whom doubtless, but that they were restrained by his merciful interposition, intended me..............[fold in the paper]. I got the people wakened, and remained all night with them. Next day being the Sabbath, I went down with the family to the kirk, and I can never forget the first man I saw there was one of the Ward gentry standing at the Plate. He hung down his head when he saw me—nae laughing or dancing with him now—he was one of the elders of the parish kirk! Many a one of them I knew, both of my neighbours and others, for twenty miles round, but hundreds there were whom I never saw before nor since. I had another meeting with the piper long after, and did not fail to hint to him the occasion of our former acquaintance. This took place also on my road home from Dairy. Coming up to me, he said he was on his way home to the Largs, and asked to accompany me. I could not well refuse, but determined to keep a strick eye on him, and to let him go foremost for fear of his pranks. Nothing, however, occurred betwixt us; and when I took down the riggs to my own house, the piper remarked, "you'l soon be home by me, who is not half-way yet." I told him, if he had the same horse he had that night I last met him, he would be home before me yet, short as my road was !
"The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanished?
Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind. Would they had staid!
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten of the insane root,
That takes the reason prisoner?"
To be Continued.
________________________________________
* Eyme, Eme, Eim – an uncle by the mother's side.