Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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hahaya2004
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Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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Captain John Smith published his memories of Saltcoats in 12 "articles" in the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald in 1903. I thought they were quite interesting:

Reminiscences of Old Saltcoats Sixty Years Ago [1840s].
By Captain John Smith.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 25th September 1903


Since the delivery of my lecture on “The Sea and its Sailors” in Ardrossan a few months ago, there has been a general desire to hear more about Saltcoats as it was fully half a century ago, and that from one who was born there, and brought up amongst its seafaring folk. In trying to gratify that desire I will go back as far as my memory serves me, to the days when I have seen as many as fifteen ships in Saltcoats harbour—small ships, of course, none being over 200 tons. These ships were mostly manned from Saltcoats, and the town in those days was full of sailor men. Not only were there coasters to be manned, but many of the larger ships, trading from Greenock to India and China, drew their crews from Saltcoats. When these foreign-going men came home, they were the heroes of the hour. Clad in superfine navy blue, valiant, swaggering, they were made much of, and a mere coaster had to stand aside to let them pass.

There must in those days have been many makers of model ships, for in the Parish Church at Saltcoats- as in other seaport towns- there hung from the centre of the roof a model of a 74 man-o’-war. Once a year the sailors, with one consent, assembled in the gallery of the church to claim their right as heritors of the gallery, and it was a sight to see about 200 able-bodied men in their best navy blue seated in the church on those occasions. I was myself too young to be amongst them, but well I remember the sight.

Of course, Saltcoats was not then a tithe of what it is now, in point of size, and Ardrossan was only a parish name. It was not till long after that the better-class people began to move out from Saltcoats and to build houses out from the north-west end of the town. The Pavilion, Lord Eglinton’s summer residence, was erected before my time. It was Dr M’Fadzean who built that conspicuous house at the Baths. Both were there in my infancy, but I can remember the building of the “manse," now No. XII. South Crescent, in 1856. Rev. John Bryce, the parish minister of Ardrossan built that house. His wife was a Douglas, and heiress of an estate, and with her money the house was built for her residence when she and the family had to leave the manse in Manse Street, Saltcoats, at his death, which occurred on 14th May 1858, Here she removed with her family, and it became the home of the boy, Archibald Bryce, who after became Bryce Douglas, head of the engineering department of the far-famed shipbuilding yards of Fairfield and Barrow. He adopted his mother's name, Douglas, so as to claim her estate. This house was built by Peter King, of Saltcoats, its walls ore two-and-a-half feet thick, and its scantlings as fresh as when it was put up. In those days they built for the ages. Like the old book-binders in calf’s-skin, thinking their books were to last for ever. For many years the house stood alone amongst the whins, like the West U.P. manse in Saltcoats, which was built on the “greens," and stood alone for ten years, till a building boom began. Soon after that, Montgomerie Crescent was run up, and ere long a complete row of fine houses faced Arran along the shore. After that Hill's Park was feued, and Winton Circus began to appear.

But I am away from old Saltcoats now, talking about things with which many not very old people are familiar. What is wanted, I know, is a history of days that are passed away, interesting history for those sons and daughters of Saltcoats who are scattered —for Saltcoats people read the “Ardrossan and Saltcoats Herald ” in many lands.

Well, I cannot remember the days when our country was at war with Napoleon. Those were hard times. Our navy was greatly in need of men, and the press-gang was in requisition. Vessels were boarded at sea, and everyone save the Captain, the mate, and the apprentices, who were left to carry out the voyage, were pressed into naval service. Saltcoats was a grand hunting ground for the men recruiting cruisers, which lay in the offing sometimes. In the dark night these navy men came stealing ashore, broke into houses, and, capturing the Saltcoats men in bed, bore them swiftly down to the beach, where they embarked with their booty and rowed back to the cruisers in the bay. Many time I have heard of hair’s-breadth escapes, of men dressing themselves in women’s clothes to avoid being pressed by the gang, of men escaping by back-doors, and hiding in cellars.

At the end of the war Saltcoats was full to overflowing with sailors. Some of them had lain long in French prisons, and came home as soon as they were released.

And now, let me tell you a little about Saltcoats’ harbour. When Mr Cunningham of “Seabank” in Stevenston came to his estate, he found it rich in coal. In order get a market in Ireland for the mineral he had to build ships, and for the ships he had to provide a harbour. At great expense the harbour was built, and a railway to take the coals to the quay was laid. It was a tidal harbour, built so as to protect it from most winds. In it ships fitted out in the spring for America: into it came strange ships with the produce of various countries. A store house for cargoes was built, and this building was also used to stow junks for mooring, these being eight or nine inches in diameter, and so made as to have a spring in bad weather, when the swell rolled into the port. Another house was also built, one end of it being used a ships- registry office and for the collecting of dues, and the other was for the “Penny men," as they were called—the ancient man-o’-wars men. In this house sat those old sea-warriors, spinning yarns of the ships they had served in, and the admirals they were under, and the battles they fought, and the victories they won. We boys who frequented the quay were allowed to listen to the yarns. The old men had coals as much as they would, and in the winter time they had always rousing fires, The only lighthouse for the port was an Iron erection, on which hung an iron cage lighted with live coal; and the stronger the wind blew the brighter blazed the fire. One man was told off to keep the fire going. When a ship came in all hands turned out to moor her, whether it was night or day. A buoy was moored half a mile to the south-west of the quay-end, and ships going to sea with the wind in-shore were warped out to this buoy to make sail there, in order that the perch rock might be cleared. The “penny men” assisted at those jobs. I cannot recall the names of all the “penny men”, but first and foremost was Dougal M'Fee, father of a race of seamen that figured in the sea-history of Saltcoats. There were also a Kennedy, a M'Donald, and many other old salts, who had seen service at sea in harder days than these in which we live, and when sailors were less cared-for than now.

On the braes, where ships were built, Mr Murphy had a large ship-building yard. There Dublin brigs for the coal-trade were built of oak, and built strong enough to stand the heavy bumping of the ground swell that happened when the tide was ebbing or flowing and the bottoms were near the ground.

When a launch happened it was a big affair. The young sailors, or any who were hardy enough to risk on board, tested the ship’s stability by rocking her from side to side, and running across the deck trying to capsize her. They all in my remembrance stood the test. There was no more work that day, and in the evening there was a carpenter’s dance.

Mr Murphy removed to Greenock to have a greater scope for the building of larger ships. There was dock built for fishing smacks and wherries, which went far up the braes. A channel was cut up to this dock, which is now filled up and passed away, as it was a danger on a dark night, where a wanderer might fall in.

In the winter, storms were numerous in those days, and high tides broke in on the town. Twice or thrice in my recollection have the tides been up Green Street, and once I saw boats pulling along Dockhead Street taking old people out of the windows, lest they should be drowned inside. On these occasions we were let out of school to see the big tide. On one occasion the logs of timber broke adrift from the shipbuilding yard, were hurled along, and made havoc of the wall at the back of Dockhead Street houses. But a great feat was accomplished by Captain Peter M’Fee, so long known as harbour master of Ardrossan. In his sea-going days the "Eliza” brig was his own. She was due at Saltcoats on a certain day, and was seen in the offing coming along with close-reefed topsails. No one could imagine how he was to take the harbour that day. The little vessel came proudly along on the crest of a wave, ran past the quay end, up the boat channel, and past the dock and ran away up high and dry, far up the braes out of the reach of the sea or storm. Now the crew had time to clew up and furl sails, when all danger was over. Not one in a hundred would have thought of such a feat. When the storm was over a channel had to be cut for the vessel to be floated down to the harbour. So much for being acquainted with the port. Another, I remember, was not as fortunate in taking Saltcoats harbour. I think she was a Belfast ship. The master did not keep near enough the quay end, struck the rings rocks, and rolled right over. That was being wrecked in port.

But a worse wreck at Saltcoats harbour happened some time after. A large ship bound for the Clyde lost her way, or the Captain lost his head. He saw a brig one of the colliers running for Saltcoats. He thought “this man knows where he is going, I will follow him." The brig entered safely, but the stranger struck the inner perch, the jibboom reaching over the outer quay-end. The crew walked on shore by this means. In a few hours the work of destruction was complete, only the fragments of a ship were to seen there.

(To be continued)
The most important hour is always the present, the most significant person is the one opposite you right now, and the most necessary deed is always love. - Meister Eckhart (c.1260 - c.1328)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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A fantastic read about the press gangs and all that. Thanks, hahaya2004
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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Nice one, Irene. Something to look forward to. :D
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by Max »

Great wee read, the A & S Herald had far more eloquent writers, and material, back in those days.
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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Reminiscences of Old Saltcoats Sixty Years Ago [1840s].
By Captain John Smith
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 02nd October 1903

Second Article

I have not said much about the sailor men of Saltcoats of long ago. They were a brave, and hearty, and happy lot. “The Shop Ends,” which in other towns would be called the “Cross," was their congregating place early in the evening. There they met their chums, and from there started off to the various haunts where they intended to spend the evening. The foreign-going men seemed a more superior class, having seen a bit of the world, and could tell exploits that a coaster had no knowledge of, and these scarcely condescended to hang about the Shop Ends. A coaster had to stand aside when a man who had been at China or Calcutta came home in his suit of navy blue, his pockets well filled with silver and gold. Who, indeed, was like him!

This foreign service had its drawbacks. Often the news came home of this one and that one dying of cholera or yellow fever. Saltcoats men shipping together in one ship, and going to a fever-stricken port, news would come that they were all dead. At times a ship wholly manned with Saltcoats men was lost.

On a ship going to America, especially from Ardrossan, only a three months' voyage, the men must have a dance on the strength of the month's advance. That continued till far in the morning. Of course there had to be refreshments all night in the shape of cakes and wine, or, what was the ruling beverage, hot toddy. And when the ship got out in the bay, owners and friends from the shore were invited to come on board and see them off. Flags flew and guns fired alt day, as the ship sailed up and down till nightfall, when the friends left, and the ship steered away. These times have all changed. Old Saltcoats is still there—fragments of it. But a new Saltcoats has sprung up with the advance of time.

When Ardrossan became a town and port many of the ships preferred Ardrossan to Saltcoats, and the American trading fleet lay up there till Spring. The apprentices had to sleep on board, to attend to the ropes and fenders at tide time, if occasion required. They usually mustered down town somewhere, and went along the Ardrossan Road singing sea-songs, and they could sing.

What is town now was fields then. West, half way out from Hamilton Street a turf dyke lined the road, separating the whins from the pavement. The town end finished where the North Parish Church stands. That field had a turf dyke till they built on it a Gaelic chapel and stone wall as it is to-day in Hamilton Street. Here the weavers met in the meal hour to hear the papers read, and discuss politics. Everyone had not a newspaper in these days. They were taxed, and few came into the town. I speak of the time from about 1836 to 1840. There was a windmill at the west-end of the street that bears its name. Here the farmers ground their meal. It had a high tower and a lock-up cell. It was the only jail in the place, till the town’s house was built with its hall, court-house, and a lock-up, where the evildoer was detained till he could be sent to Ayr. The mill tower stood in ruins for many years, till, like the salt pans, it was taken down as dangerous. l am speaking of Old Saltcoats. When there were no lucifer matches, no gas, no lampposts on the streets, people had to make their own tinder, have their own steel and flint, and make their own brimstone matches. We were in Saltcoats like what they had been in India and Africa up till the last twenty-five years—far behind, and astonished at every new thing that came out. When lucifer matches were invented in 1833 and found their way into the market, they cost sixpence a box, and were thin spales drawn through a piece of emery cloth between the finger and thumb. Then came gas. Tallow candles, whale oil, and cannel coal, or as it was then called, purrit coal, were hitherto the only lights in the town. On a dark night each carried his own light to lighten the way. It was a new age when gas was introduced into a house.

When a steam engine came to run on the line from Kilwinning to Ardrossan the school children were let out to see the curiosity. In the early days names and not numbers were painted on the engine. “Kingcoil,” “Wellington,” or such like; they were known by their name.

It may be interesting to recall the old mail coach days. Mr Campbell, of Saracen Head Inn, Saltcoats, was an enterprising man. He leased Parkhouse Farm, and started a mail coach to Glasgow and one to Kilmarnock. David Muir drove the Glasgow coach, and John Tyre the Kilmarnock one. They started in the morning and returned in the evening with mails and passengers. It was a thing of interest, both the departure and return of the mail coach, and the waiting for letters and parcels at the office at the head of the outside stair. John Rowan was the head functionary there, with William Brown under him. The drivers were men of importance with their red coats, white hats, and two or three traces of horses, and the flourishing of trumpets as they drew near the town. They came in by way of Canal Street, so named from the canal once there, and on to the inn. Another coach and new horses went out up Quay Street, along Dockhead Street, Chapel Well Street, Hill’s Brae (on which the West U.P. Church now stands), and out Manse Street to Hamilton Street, which became the direct road to Ardrossan, Kilbride, Fairlie, and Largs, was opened.

The Eglinton Hotel was built with large stabling in Ardrossan, but large as it was it was not large enough for the traffic. Another block of buildings had to be put up in connection with it on the opposite side of Princes Street, which forms the corner block of Montgomerie Street looking west. John Tyre built a large house as a half way inn and stopping place on the way to Fairlie at the cross road leading to Portincross and West Kilbride. As time advanced and steam came in. the hotel in Ardrossan became too large, and the hostel at the West Kilbride cross ways was discontinued.

Another old relic of Saltcoats not known to many who move about now was the “Hay Weigh’s.” That was an enclosure with a high wall and large iron-sparred gate, where farmers got their hay weighed when selling it to town’s people or others. It stood where Mr Hamilton’s property now is, at the comer of Windmill and Dockhead streets. The triangular space left there on the opposite side has ever been open for public meetings, and is now usually taken advantage of by the Salvation Army people of to-day. There, public demonstrations were held, too, and there, effigies of men obnoxious to the public were burned.

Old habits are hard to die, and bad habits are not easily uprooted. At one time Saltcoats Fair was the first fair of Scotland. It was not in the nature of things that it could live with the advance of railways and steamships. It is loathe to die, and there is a semblance of it left in the tomfoolery and penny shows and the riff-raff that come to the town on the last Thursday of May each year. Perhaps out of respect to some old people who have seen it in its glory, the fragment of it is allowed to remain till all these old people pass away. I will draw a picture of what it was like in my early days. There was no steamer to Arran. The mail packet was a sloop, and sometimes passengers crossed and re-crossed with the mail packet. Once or twice she was wrecked with cattle on board, and some were drowned. The Fair was a feeing fair, a cattle fair, and a country fair. Wednesday was devoted to the Arran people, and it was called the “Highland Boat day.” The people brought over their stock of produce in young pigs, hens, eggs, calves, and goats, and anything that would grow or sell. Townspeople laid in a good supply of all stuff, and the Highlanders were as a rule delighted with their sales.

Thursday was the day proper when the Fair began. For a week before cleaning and whitewashing, and preparations for the Fair were in full operation. Stalls were erected on both sides of Quay Street, from the Shopends quay-wards. At the lower end, the street being wider, here were the coopers and their wares, the tinsmiths and their wares, and where anything that was bulky was sold. Lots of the rougher class had amusements there, and penny-reels were popular in some of the small public-houses. The Braes were occupied with shows of a better class than come now, substantial erections to stand some time. The same parties came annually and were well known, Ord’s Circus also came from year to year about that time. He had a lease of the “greens" for his ring and performances on horseback, the excellence of which may have loomed larger in our eyes then than they would do to-day. Everything was big then.

Friday was called sailor’s parade day. This day was devoted to them. A sailor was the hero of the hour. The women sewed all sorts of ribbons on their Kilmarnock bonnets. Perhaps their head-dress was the main attraction of the display. They mustered somewhere and marched four or five deep in procession through the town, and far out of the town to wherever their terminus was to be. Of course they had to finish up with a dance, and thus ended Friday.

Saturday was called Curd Saturday. It was the townspeople’s day. Farmers within walking distance kept their milk at home to make curds and cream for the townspeople. Certain people had their own friends to entertain. But usually it was, “Where ore you going for your curds this year?” Mashlum scones were a country luxury, seemingly only to be had on a curd day.

The Greens was a public park let to people who kept cows in the town. At the north-east corner was a gap in the wall wide enough to let one man squeeze through, and a narrow pathway running to a gap in the north-west corner afforded a short cut to Ardrossan by the sands. Through the Greens ran the Galloway Burn. Here women resorted to wash clothes; kindled a fire for hot water, and dried the clothes on the whins. If it was a large washing they went to the Stanley Burn, where there were more whins and more resources every way.

Green-end house was built by John Currie on a field opposite the greens that terminated Hamilton Street. It stood alone for nearly twenty years till a mania for building began, and did not stop till the street was filled up on the shore side. From Green-end a road led down to the shore right opposite the “mine mouth." This spring is worth a remark. It is at high-water mark, a little south of the U.F. manse. It was bubbling up through the sand sixty years ago. It is as active to-day as ever it was. Visitors to Saltcoats can quench their thirst at this perennial spring, clear as crystal and cool as iron, on the hottest day, and free as the air they breathe. The spring is said to come from a coal mine up in rocky park half-a-mile away, and which was brought out before my day. The hollow park is now filled up, and the present generation is ignorant of its whereabouts. Yet its source is there, like the source of the spring that the Man of Galilee wanted his hearers to partake of.

There was another spring, at one time as free to the public and to the traveller as the “mine mouth.” It was on the King's highway. It was against the boundary wall of the planting at the end of Caledonia Road. It was mineral, said to have medicinal properties, and was much frequented by visitors. Whether it gave them health or no we know not; still it was there, and considered worth a trial. It was called the “physic well.” Why it should have been removed I cannot say. I have been told it was removed from the highway to a house built for it within the policies, and one penny a glass was charged from those who wished to test its virtues. I fear “Ichabod” has been written on it from the day the well was removed, for I never hear anything of the well, nor of its virtues. If a house could be built over the Mine Mouth, perhaps a trial would be made to tax its waters, but the sea, in a storm, claims its "Mine.” It is one of God’s free gifts to man. In old days it was reckoned the best tea water, and a can of it was always kept at hand for infusing tea.

We will now leave the Mine Mouth and return to the town. A stone wall was built along the greens where Montgomerie Crescent now is, and a stone wall along Hill's Park facing the sea, now Winton Circus. In big storms these walls were laid low, and the parks flooded. Turf dykes held the boundary of the fields below Hamilton Street, and the cart road from the shore was called the Roadend, commonly called the “Rodden,” which is now Eglinton Street. It was then a quagmire in winter; seldom, if ever, dry.

Snow seemed to fall heavier, and lie deeper, and for a longer period than it does now. There were no starlings then, as now; but larks filled the air with their song in summer, and in winter flocked in large numbers about these fields. The foreign-going sailors stayed at home in winter, and spent much of their time in shooting, and sea-gulls had a hard time of it. When the snow lay, a patch was cleared here and there and corn scattered. When a flock of birds came, as they soon did, at one shot, six, ten, twelve, or twenty, lay dead, and there were as many attendant boys to run and lift the dead, as there are boys now to attend the golf links and carry clubs.

There were four schools in Saltcoats sixty years ago, one in Green Street, one in Raise Street, one in Kyleshill and one in Hamilton Street. The boys did not seem to amalgamate, but challenged each school for a champion to fight. The writer belonged to the west school, which had one or two champions, either to fight, run, or jump a burn. Very often boys, when they were not allowed to go to sea, would start from the school, run away, two together, along the Kilbride shore, and on to Greenock, where they would get a ship, and come back about a year later, great men, having been to India or China.

No wonder Saltcoats boys chose a sea life. Trained from youth about boats and ships in the harbour, they learned to pull and scull a boat, and climb rigging, and help to furl sails, to turn the vane on a ship’s mast-head was a great feat, and they longed for the day when they would be one of the crew themselves.

Any one looking at Saltcoats Harbour can see what a fine port it could be made if money were expended on it. When Mr Cuninghame’s estate and Lord Eglinton's estate met, the one in Stevenston parish and the other in Ardrossan parish, they met in the middle of the town of Saltcoats. The two proprietors agreed to build a harbour in Saltcoats, and each share in the expense and revenue. The work went on. Cuninghame building the Saltcoats side and Eglinton building the Ardrossan side, by a wall to run out from Windmill Street to the rings rocks. Then the hirst would be dug out, and the ships lie in the basin there, safe from all winds. The proprietors differed over the question of revenues, and the work ceased. Lord Eglinton carried his intentions to Ardrossan, and built a harbour there on quite as rocky a promontory as ever Saltcoats was. Not only did the Earl of that day build a dry. i.e., tidal harbour, but also started to build a wet dock. When he died the work stopped. Many years after the dock idea was resumed, and in time became an accomplished fact under the supervision of the Earl who made the country famous by the great tournament of 1839. I was too young to be there, but I remember the day. It was a lovely morning, and I think my brother on board the “St James” came into Ardrossan that day. I remember being at Ardrossan and counting twenty-two steamers in the harbour, which had brought passengers from all parts of the country to see the tournament. Then the rain came on, such a day, it would be difficult find one with more rain. John M’Killop was a Saltcoats poet, and a satirist, and anything odd he put in rhyme. He composed a long piece on the tournament day, but all I can remember now is
“They came from all parts of Spain,
To get themselves wet with the tournament rain.”

Our house was crowded with people from Greenock and Port Glasgow. Everyone in their finery and their best for the occasion. It was said there was not a bed to be had in Irvine or anywhere near, but I daresay people would be glad get a hard board to lie on anywhere on a night such as that one was.

(To be continued)




[Original plan for Saltcoats harbour:
https://archive.org/details/b21365799_007/page/38 ]
The most important hour is always the present, the most significant person is the one opposite you right now, and the most necessary deed is always love. - Meister Eckhart (c.1260 - c.1328)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by hahaya2004 »

Reminiscences of Old Saltcoats Sixty Years Ago [1840s].
By Captain John Smith.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 09th October 1903

Third Article

There were four churches in Saltcoats sixty years ago — the Parish, the Burgher, the Anti-Burgher, and the Relief. Ministers did not require holidays then as now; and I heard Mr Orr, of Fenwick, say that when they went a distance to preach they went in their carriage and pair - that was on two legs - and tramped it all the way. The ministers were very friendly, and while three sermons were preached on Sabbath -forenoon, afternoon, and evening—somewhere, the four ministers agreed to occupy their church and pulpit time about; it allowed them to give only two sermons, except once a month. The sacrament was observed once a year in all the Nonconformist churches. They all agreed in the fundamentals of their religion, and went from parish to parish to the sacrament. The carrier's van, John M’Bryde's, was hired to take the Saltcoats saints to Irvine, Kilwinning, Beith, or Dairy, and in turn the saintly of these towns came to Saltcoats. It was the custom to look out for strangers and ask it they had any place to go? If not; “Come home with me” was the usual reply, and visitors were given hospitality. Friday and Saturday were preparation days. The action and [?] sermons were given on Sunday, and a farewell sermon on Monday.

There were some of the excellent of the earth, in all the churches. James Smith, the tailor, a leading elder in the Anti-Burgher church, Robert Steel, some time precentor in the Burgher, John Rowan, Mr. Banks, and Andrew McBride in the Relief church. These were all leading men in the Christian world. James Smith will appear again when we come to the founding of the Mission Coast Home. His name will get honourable mention.

A revival movement, perhaps before my day, visited Saltcoats. The Burgher church was opposite the steeple, where Mr Ellis ministered. The Anti-Burgher, where Mr Ronald ministered, stood where the gas work now is. And the Relief, where Mr Giffen ministered, was at Parkend—the east end of the town. It was here at the east end that the meetings were carried on chiefly by the young men of the town. All I remember of it was the meetings and the men, and being dispatched away to the east end of the town on Sabbath morning at 8 o'clock, willing or not willing to go. Kitchen meetings were held here and there but all I remember of them was that I got a little stool to sit on at my mother feet, for she was a frequenter there.

I will now come to the Sabbath Schools of sixty years ago or more. Alexander Smith's day-schoolroom was in Hamilton Street, and called the West School. Here was a Sabbath School for long. Alexander Smith had one class of boys, Robert Steel another, and Robert Barr from the Parish Church, another- his class was girls. Robert Barr was a very saintly man, gentle and kind; his person and his prayers are not effaced from the memory to this day. The time came when all the school children were to be taught in the several churches to which they belonged. Mr Smith, teaching children all week, wished to be relieved of his class in the Sabbath School, and the writer was transferred to a class in Mr Ronald’s Anti-Burgher church, under John Hunter, the heckler. Robert White had another large class, and John Miller, the elder, taught the girls’ class.

There was an examination and competition for prizes given once a year amongst all the schools in the parish. It was a great day the Sabbath School day, when the whole town nearly turned out to Ardrossan at the Cannon Hill, where a pulpit was erected in a hollow under the guns in a natural amphitheatre, where the present Drill Hall now stands. That was walled in, with gate, lock, and key, and kept sacred or at least private. All round the sides of the amphitheatre were lined with spectators and hearers. The young, especially, sought the highest seats, all on the grass till they reached up to the guns. A sermon was preached by one or other of the ministers, and then the prizes were given. It was a sort of convention, looked forward to with great delight. There were no churches in Ardrossan then, and that was the most suitable place in the parish for a large gathering.

Here comes another picture – but so different, the dark side of things – the public houses. There were as many then as now, and now as then. There have been more slain by the drink curse than were ever slain on the battlefield, and more have gone down to Dante’s pandemonium than ever the Parish Church lifted above the starry sky. A public house stands to this day at the corner of Vernon Street, which was then the Drakemire, and the house was called the “Lion’s Den”— perhaps not misnamed from the character of its frequenters. Here the lowest class gathered, and here, perhaps, the vilest stuff was sold. Here brawls and fights were enacted. Sir Wilfred Lawson has said whisky was the devil in solution, and when he got into a man he let everybody know that he was no friend of man, but a foe both of man and God. There was another class, that of respectable tradesmen. We could name them by the dozen. About once a month or thereabout the fiend came on them and said, now you have gathered enough, get out and spree for eight or ten days till all is spent in the public house; and whether it was the loom, the shuttle, or the carpenter's tools, all must be laid aside and be as quiet as the calm before the storm. Oh, it was pitiable to see the desperation and the pleading for twopence to save the life of some of them, who would roam the streets at midnight trying to knock up the slumberers if, perchance, they could get the coveted twopence. The Shop Ends was the rallying place for the drunks between the drinks. We all knew the spree had begun when we saw the hangers-on there.

The licensed grocers were as numerous 60 years ago as they are to-day. They wore snares and traps, which caught not a few of the ladies of Saltcoats moving in the upper circle. We must not give names, but there were not a few well known, who went with their reticule basket to the grocer’s shop, and got what they wanted when they would not like to have been seen entering a public house.

I don't, want to give names to identify families, but the follow reminiscence may not be considered unsuitable in this connection. There were two daughters, there may have been more, I only remember two, and they were the belles of the place. Margaret, especially, was bright, beautiful, and clever. She was well sought after by admirers, and married. We will call her Mrs Whin. The licensed grocer does for a time, but the stuff In his bottle often gains the victory over its lover when they long keep acquaintance. It was so with Mrs Whin till her husband gave her up as a wreck and could not live with her, and she went far down. When the temperance movement under Mr James Smith began in 1837 there was an effort made to try and get Mrs Whin reclaimed. It seemed successful. She took the pledge, and wanted to do well. Friends rallied round her, and got a widow woman in Raise Street to take her in and care for her. To encourage her, parents sent their boys to her night school to learn knitting and to keep her off the street. The writer made one of the six or eight boys that met in Mrs Whin's class to knit stockings, and I remember finishing a pair complete before I left the school. She kept us cheery by telling us wonderful stories, with which we were all delighted. Of course we wanted to be sailors when we grew up, and one of her exuberant speeches to me was. some day I would be coming home a braw captain with lots of money, and I would say, “Here, mother, there's half-a-crown, take that up to Mrs Whin; and here, mother, there's a lb. of tea, take that up to Mrs Whin." Such was the woman; and such were her stories.

How long Mrs Whin withstood the temptation I don't know. But years after, I came home off a voyage, converted now. I was told Mrs Whin had broken the pledge, and was as far down as ever. I went to see her early next morning. She had gone out. I traced her to the dock, wandering on the braes. If the knew me, there was no more the brilliant smile nor the welcome; but a pitiful look, and herself, clothes and all, a picture of misery. “Could you lend me three bawbees?" “Oh, Mrs Whin, I am sorry to see you where you are in such a plight.” “Aye, but could you lend me three bawbees?” “Were not these grand times we used to have in Mrs Barr's house, when you taught us to knit? Would you not like to try the same again." “Aye, but could you lend me three bawbees?" was all I could get from her. That was but one of many moral wrecks ruined on Saltcoats shores through strong drink.

The drink curse in Saltcoats was coming very near high-water mark. James Smith, the tailor, ever trying to do good, thought to get up a society to abstain from all intoxicating drink. He wanted the ministers to head it. The only condition they would make to join him was to call it a temperance society. To get them he agreed to this, for ministers and laity alike partook of the glass. It was the way of showing hospitality; but it was becoming a disease.

Well, a society was formed, called the Temperance Society, and a meeting was convened, the first of the kind ever held In Ayrshire, perhaps in Scotland. It was held in Mr Gibb's School close, covered in with canvas, in Green Street. The schoolroom was too small for the gathering. It was a tea meeting, and the name “soiree“ given to it that night, has stamped a tea meeting for all time a soiree. There was a speaker there, who was ever after a temperance lecturer—Mr Mason. Rev. Dr Wallace, Glasgow, of temperance and Christian celebrity, in preaching the annual sermon for the Scottish Temperance League, in the City Hall, Glasgow, said—l think I am right, but I am open to correction, that the temperance cause had its rise in a little obscure town in Ayrshire of the name of Saltcoats, in 1837. He was quite right, as some of us know. Next week I will have something to say concerning Mr Smith, who inaugurated the temperance crusade.

(To be continued)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by hahaya2004 »

Reminiscences of Old Saltcoats Sixty Years Ago [1840s].
By Captain John Smith.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 16th October 1903

Fourth Article

James Smith was more than a temperance man; he was a Christian man, and held kitchen meetings, both in Saltcoats and Stevenston while he wrought at his trade. His candle that was lighted was not hid, and was not allowed to burn out in the little obscure place of Saltcoats.

A missionary was wanted for Rev. Dr Ker’s church in Sydney Place, Glasgow, and Mr Smith was the chosen candidate; and thither he went with his family from Saltcoats. He became the founder of the Mission Coast Home, Saltcoats. It came about in this wise. He had been at Saltcoats on a fortnight's holiday. On his return to the city he felt so invigorated that he could wish his poor people that came to his mission hall could get a share of that pure fresh sea air he so lately had. Having met the writer he groaned out, “Oh, that my poor people could get a smell of that pure sea air!" “Well, there’s a pound; send some of them down for a few days.” He wrote at once to Mr William Bryden, "Take a room for so many of my poor people.” I may mention that James Smith served his time as a tailor with Mr Bryden’s father, and I think, lived with them in the house when he came to Saltcoats, so that Smith and Bryden were long and close friends. Other friends soon helped, and a pretty regular supply was sent on for Mr Bryden to find quarters for.

Mr Corbett, father of the M.P. for Tradeston division of Glasgow, was an enterprising man, ever doing good. He started in Glasgow the 4 ½d dinners of three courses of good nourishing food. He heard of the mission to Saltcoats coast and helped it. He bought and gave the first cottage for it in Kyleshill Street, and added cottage to cottage till it grew to be a big affair. It can contain over a hundred inmates, who can have ten days at the coast free of charge, which is a boon to many.

Mr Smith for long had an office in Glasgow, where people went to get a line to get into the Home, where Mr Bryden was the receiver at Saltcoats and looked after the inmates, most of whom had some ills of head, or heart, or hand, that required his remedies. It was usually called “Mr Bryden’s Home," but when the late principal addition was added with the main entrance, over the door was inscribed, “J. S. and W. B., founders." Having mentioned Mr Corbett, we may add a little more about this enterprising man. He was a man that dealt in anything that would increase capital, and to increase his business he found in James Service, son of a Baptist minister in Kilwinning and latterly of Saltcoats, a young man of promise. James Service was a teacher in Vernon Street School, once the Drakemire. The schoolhouse was an old thatched building. We were almost sorry to see it taken down, for it was a relic which we often pointed out as being the place where the Premier of Victoria (Melbourne) had his school. Mr Corbett sent out James Service to represent him in Melbourne and sell his goods. Boots and shoes may have been a leading article in the store, at least large shipments went out. James Service became a wealthy merchant and ship owner in Melbourne, and Archibald Currie, son of the late shoemaker of that name in Saltcoats, is also a prosperous shipowner in Melbourne.

When among Saltcoats names, it may be mentioned that the “Kilmarnock Standard" of 22nd August, 1903, has a letter on “gleanings from old letters", giving a list of leading people in Saltcoats, Stevenston, Irvine, Kilbride, and Stewarton. Out of the eighty-eight names given and their trades, I can recall about twenty whose names were familiar in my early days, and twice twenty more who were leading families in these times in the notable little town of Saltcoats. The writer of that article mentions the name of Robert Workman, weaver, as one of the well-to-do people of Saltcoats. The writer has good remembrance of the man in Raise Street, and sometimes when visiting Saltcoats has gone through to the back of that house half way up Raise Street to see if the weaver’s shop was still there where Mr Workman used to work.

What memories linger around that old man! for he was old when I knew him. A gentleman once said to me in speaking of him. “It is singular, everybody connected with that old man has prospered in this world." Yes, generally true; and perhaps Mr Workman had fulfilled some vow or some duty, that God would secure for all time coming blessing on his posterity. It would be needless to try and trace his descendants unless one were an expert at these things, suffice it to say that there are the Smith’s, the Workman's, the Orr’s, the Clark’s, the Smith's, the Service’s, the Allan’s, and the Smith's, and that there has been intermarrying among all these relatives. Some say it was not to let the wealth depart from them, but to keep it in the ring, and it looks like it, for there it is.

When Mrs John Brown died at Portincross in July last at the age of 80, that was the last of the family of the late Mr Robert Workman, of Saltcoats, and when we attended the funeral at the Necropolis, Glasgow, on the 29th July, 1903, we met there the descendants to the third and fourth generation of Workman's, Smith's, Allan's, Service’s, and Orr’s, all of whose forefathers had been Saltcoats men, and Raise Street men.

One likes to pay respect to the memory of the blessed. They were all Anti-Burgher people under Mr Ronald's ministry. It was called the “Pea doo kirk,” for there was a dove with outstretched wings on the sounding board above the pulpit, I suppose to represent the Holy Spirit descending on the church like a dove, as it came down on Jesus. While all the churches had sounding boards, this was the only one with the emblem of a dove.

When the writer first went to sea the first night out it came on to blow, and we ran into Belfast Lough for shelter. Our vessel, pig iron loaded for Adra in the Mediterranean, struck on the Carrick bank, had to discharge, and go into dry dock. Mr Workman sent his two sons, Robert and John, to Belfast to push their fortune there; and there they were in the soft goods or muslin line. After the death of the father the Workman brothers sent for their stepmother and her two daughters, Margaret and Helen. They were written to, to look after Mrs Smith’s son, the young sailor, and they did it well. To keep me out of harm’s way I had to spend most of my evenings at their house. They took me to church, prayer meetings, and drawing-room meetings. I will never forget the kindness they showed me all the rest of my days. The gentleness of Helen (Mrs Brown) was characteristic of her whole life; and the book Margaret gave the young sailor. "The Life of John Fletcher of Madely." when going away, I have treasured among my precious things.

Captain Allan, founder of the “Allan Line," was a Saltcoats man. He lived in Hamilton Street, two doors below Mr Ronald's manse. He married a Miss Jean Crawford in Windmill Street, commonly called “Castle wee rock." The Crawfords were a portly family. The ladies were handsome, with golden hair and fine complexions, Bryce, the brother, was a massive, powerful carpenter. This is all of the family I can call to remembrance. Captain Allan had at least three sons born in Saltcoats, Hugh, James, and Bryce. Alexander Allan was the same age as the writer, and when someone went to him for a favour claiming to be a townsman, he had the proud distinction to say. “I am not a Saltcoats man. I was born in Greenock." I cannot speak of the father personally, but James, Bryce, and Alexander, I knew well. Hugh had gone early to Montreal, and represented the Canadian side of the firm when it became the “Allan Line.” Captain Allan removed to Greenock to be more convenient for his trade to America. As his ships increased they were mostly commanded and manned by Saltcoats men.

The “Allan Line,” like the “City Line," was small in its beginning. Three to four hundred tons was about the size required for the trade, and for long the largest ship was about 500 tons. In these early days the father could put his sons, James and Bryce, in command of ships, for they were sailors. The time came when the sons must stay on shore to manage their ships—James in Glasgow, and Bryce in Liverpool. Alexander was called from a Greenock office to assist his brother James, and to this day the firm Is known as Messrs James and Alexander Allan of the “ Allan Line.” To what dimensions it has grown! They began to build large sailing ships for the general foreign trade, but kept the Quebec and Montreal trade in regular supply. Then the age came when they must go into steam, and we all know what the Allan Line, as well as the City Line, has grown to. Well, indeed, may we say this age is different from what it was sixty years ago.

(To be continued)
The most important hour is always the present, the most significant person is the one opposite you right now, and the most necessary deed is always love. - Meister Eckhart (c.1260 - c.1328)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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Reminiscences of Old Saltcoats Sixty Years Ago [1840s].
By Captain John Smith.
From the Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald 23rd October 1903

Fifth Article

In my last article I wrote of Saltcoats men in Raise Street. I will now turn my attention to Hamilton Street and bring in my father, Alexander Smith, as he was a public man in the town and well known. I will also tell, when I come to it, how he, a Glasgow weaver, came to be a Saltcoats man. In almost every little town there is an outstanding man to whom everybody can go for advice. Such a man was Mr Smith. Being a teacher in the town and well informed on almost all subjects, people came to him from all quarters wanting to know something. If it was a ship spoken at sea, where was the place named? or a letter be written, he did much of that; and I think he deserves a place in this history — he was so widely known. I have met very many men in my day who said, “I never was in any school but your father’s," or “all that I ever learnt your father taught me.”

I am to tell how he, a Glasgow weaver, became a Saltcoats man. Alexander Smith, when a young man, wanted to push his fortune in America. He came to Saltcoats in the end of the 18th century. It was then a great shipping port for America. He would travel on foot straight down by Greenock, Largs, Fairlie, and along the Kilbride shore till be came to Saltcoats town-end. That was where the North Church now is, but then there was but a turf dyke round the field. Here the weavers met at the meal hour to hear the news, for the country was at war, and every man that could handle a weapon must turn out in case of invasion and run to the coast to defend it if the enemy landed. Here William Miller, a wright, whose house was close by, was out on this particular morning. The young man may have been taken with the benign countenance of Mr Miller, for he was pious. He asked him if he could tell him if there was any ship going from Saltcoats to America. The old man liked the look of the young man and heard his story. Then he said, “Young man, I see it is just a freak that is taking you to America. There is no ship going to America just now; it is not the time of year for that. I will tell you what you should do. Come away home with me. My son has an empty loom in his shop. You get a web in, and work away till the spring when the ships fit out, and if you are still in the same mind to go, I will speak to some of the captains and get a passage for you." Well advised, the young man went home with him, got in a web, and wrought away. When spring came and the ships were going, the notion for America was gone. He was in the right house, had the right kind of company, and he never left that house till he took away the only daughter in it as his wife and set up house for himself, eleven years after.

My mother may have been the spell that bound him to the house so long. The son John was of studious nature, and the two young men spent their evenings at home in studies of some sort. Perhaps it was there, and then, he felt himself qualified to be a teacher. I have no knowledge of his education prior to his marriage, only I know that when he got married he began to teach. William Miller’s house was in Crofthead Street; there was just a field and hedge that separated it from Hamilton Street. It was built on the west side of the street, while a hedge was on the east side. Alexander Smith took a feu and began to build when the street was only half built on. He left the lower ground floor open from end to end for a schoolroom. This was called the west school. I think there were four rows of tables on each side and a passage up the centre. These desks were usually filled. One table, at the head the room near the fire and the dominie's desk, was for sailors learning navigation. There was also there a night school for grown-up people, who may have been behind in writing and arithmetic. That must have been a great boon to the Saltcoats public, and the country servants, who were at work all day, could get in to the night school. I remember the hearty school like a bee-hive all through the winter nights; but perhaps it was the horse beans they brought in from the country houses that was best remembered in the night school.

The sailors, also, were well off. Very few came to night school, except it was someone going to sea who wanted a little “coaching" up in some part of the rules of the book. There was no regular fee for so many lessons or so many hours. A man could rise from his desk and go to sea and pay nothing, and usually a sailor was outward bound before he was long on shore. It was on his return, coming off a voyage, he minded the “old man."

That is a sailor phrase, whether a man is old or young. A master is called “the old man”; and the run of them, after saluting their old friends, was to go and see the old man. Not a few brought shells, cocoa-nuts, or forbidden fruit, all of which were great rareties. The cutting of the husk of the nut, and the sawing of the shell, and the standing by with a cup for the milk, are all pleasant memories of things long passed away. Mr Smith chewed tobacco, and the sailors kept him well supplied in the real American-plated Niggerhead tobacco. That seems to be out of use now. But what does not change?

It is pleasant memories to call up the array of Saltcoats sailors sixty years ago. There is no such sights now, and it would be an interesting volume if a man could be found to write the history of the men of that day.

The yeomanry of Ayrshire is largely a thing of the past. Volunteer artillery, infantry of the line, and the Boys’ Brigade are all in the same way preparing the country for a time of war. In the long twenty years war, when our nation held its own against Europe, every man able to fight had to be prepared to defend the coast in case of an invasion. Every man must have a weapon that he could use if need be. My father's weapon was a sword that hung on the wall ready for action. In Uncle John Miller’s house in Crofthead Street it was cavalry man’s sword that hung on the wall. I think there was an annual inspection by some sergeant that these weapons were in readiness, and at times a surprise ruse was made that the French had landed, to see how soon they could muster at the coast. The yeomen were the farmers’ sons. The eldest son in every farm on Lord Eglinton's estate must provide a horse and all accoutrements for drill and service in the cavalry. They had their certain times of drill; probably once a month. They met on the South Beach sands, Ardrossan, opposite the Pavilion, and went through the manoeuvres there. After that, the usual accompaniment to such gatherings was a canter into Saltcoats to the public houses. Alas! some of these fine men fell slain by the curse of the public house!

The old Parish churchyard in Saltcoats may remind one of the city of the dead. I went one day to visit it and have a look round. I went to the Herohouse where the key at one time was kept. The good woman there said, “Mrs Armour next door keeps it.” I looked in to Mrs Armour's shop and asked for the key. She came with me to open the big gate. I saw in her the image of the saintly Robert Barr, the Sabbath School teacher referred to before. She would be the third or fourth generation down, but there was his image. She knew a great many people of the old times, and spake of them, and, coming out in the lane to open the door for me, she said—“Here is Hugh Higgin's weaver’s shop, and there is his beaming loft upstairs, and there is the Herohouse where he lived.” All this was of interest to me, for Hugh Higgins was a well-known figure in the old times about the Crofthead. I was shown into the churchyard. She said. " Close the gate to keep the boys out," and immediately I felt I was shut in. I remembered the Rev James Hervey and his “Meditations among the Tombs." I felt I was in the city of the dead. What a carrying out of homes to lay loved one’s there. When one wanders among the tombs one cannot help reflecting on the great day when the dead shall arise. Some years ago I met two sisters of the Rev. Mr Orr, of Fenwick. They wanted to see the old burial ground. I got the key and showed them in, and left them to their own meditations. It was my time now to wander among the tombs. The names of many on memorial stones are there. I will mention only a few. But the old church building, over a hundred years old, deserves a place in history. No wonder the Rev. Rossie Brown, the present incumbent of the Parish Church, is making an effort to have a new church put up. We had a look in through the window for the door was shut, and there things were as a century ago. There the ship hung as of old; it has never fallen down and killed anybody sitting below it yet. There the seats with the high backs are as they were long ago. The idea appeared to be that if the face was seen over the bookboard it was enough, or perhaps it was for comfort lest the hearers might get cold. There was the rope and the bell that Jack Ardrossan used to ring. Jock, the foundling, was bell-ringer, beadle, gravedigger, and everything connected with the church. He may have been a little cracked in the head, or simple as we call some people, but he was harmless and obliging.


(To be continued)
The most important hour is always the present, the most significant person is the one opposite you right now, and the most necessary deed is always love. - Meister Eckhart (c.1260 - c.1328)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by Max »

Crofthead Street got me searching, it apparently was similar to Vernon Street being referred to as the Drakemire. In that logic Crofthead Street was what Manse Street was commonly known as but never made it to a town map.

I wonder it was referring to a croft at the Manse where the library is these days.
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by hahaya2004 »

Max, the story of the Crofthead, now Manse Street, is told in Saltcoats Old & New, chapter 11.

https://www.threetowners.com/old-new/chapter-11/
The most important hour is always the present, the most significant person is the one opposite you right now, and the most necessary deed is always love. - Meister Eckhart (c.1260 - c.1328)
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

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Enjoyed reading this. Not sure if am cracked in the head...What is a Herohouse?

The old Parish churchyard in Saltcoats may remind one of the city of the dead. I went one day to visit it and have a look round. I went to the Herohouse where the key at one time was kept. The good woman there said, “Mrs Armour next door keeps it.” I looked in to Mrs Armour's shop and asked for the key. She came with me to open the big gate. I saw in her the image of the saintly Robert Barr, the Sabbath School teacher referred to before. She would be the third or fourth generation down, but there was his image. She knew a great many people of the old times, and spake of them, and, coming out in the lane to open the door for me, she said—“Here is Hugh Higgin's weaver’s shop, and there is his beaming loft upstairs, and there is the Herohouse where he lived.” All this was of interest to me, for Hugh Higgins was a well-known figure in the old times about the Crofthead. I was shown into the churchyard. She said. " Close the gate to keep the boys out," and immediately I felt I was shut in. I remembered the Rev James Hervey and his “Meditations among the Tombs." I felt I was in the city of the dead. What a carrying out of homes to lay loved one’s there. When one wanders among the tombs one cannot help reflecting on the great day when the dead shall arise. Some years ago I met two sisters of the Rev. Mr Orr, of Fenwick. They wanted to see the old burial ground. I got the key and showed them in, and left them to their own meditations. It was my time now to wander among the tombs. The names of many on memorial stones are there. I will mention only a few. But the old church building, over a hundred years old, deserves a place in history. No wonder the Rev. Rossie Brown, the present incumbent of the Parish Church, is making an effort to have a new church put up. We had a look in through the window for the door was shut, and there things were as a century ago. There the ship hung as of old; it has never fallen down and killed anybody sitting below it yet. There the seats with the high backs are as they were long ago. The idea appeared to be that if the face was seen over the bookboard it was enough, or perhaps it was for comfort lest the hearers might get cold. There was the rope and the bell that Jack Ardrossan used to ring. Jock, the foundling, was bell-ringer, beadle, gravedigger, and everything connected with the church. He may have been a little cracked in the head, or simple as we call some people, but he was harmless and obliging.
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Re: Reminiscences of old Saltcoats

Post by exile »

brian f wrote: Thu Jan 07, 2021 9:53 pm Enjoyed reading this. Not sure if am cracked in the head...What is a Herehouse?

The idea appeared to be that if the face was seen over the bookboard it was enough, or perhaps it was for comfort lest the hearers might get cold.
This is fascinating. I think it might be a variant spelling of hearhouse, just because the sentence above, near the end of the passage, caught my eye.
A hearer seems to be another word for a parishioner, or member of a congregation.
However, why there would be another "house" for the congregation other than the church nave itself is still a puzzle, unless it's also means a separate small cemetery chapel.
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