RECOLLECTIONS OF KIRKWHELPINGTON 1841 A.D.

The village of Kirkwhelpington, Northumberland was, about 1841, a very primitive place. The cottages, with very few exceptions, were thatched with heather or straw, and in most cases, consisted only of a "butt and ben", an upstairs room or even loft being almost unknown. The thatch inside was covered by canvas, which was papered by the more careful housewives, but soon showed stains, owing to the drippings from the outside covering. The sleeping arrangements were crammed into as little space as possible by Box and Turn - up bedsteads, and sometimes by a sliding bed, which pulled out from under the family four poster. One old woman, I used to go and see when a small boy, kept a calf behind her Box Bed, in a recess at the end of her cottage, and on the same level as her dwelling house. Consequently, the floor was rather messy, and the smell powerful. However it seemed to suit the old lady, who lived to a good old age.

The village green was open, had a nice accumulation of middensteads, and was frequently pastured by geese, donkeys and pigs, ducks luxuriating in the little stream which ran by the side of the green. The old Bolt house was the most striking object in the place, and had, as usual, the byre beneath the living room, where the cattle in ancient days used to be housed at nights in case of a Border raid. A small window in the gable was supposed to have been used as a loophole of defence. The outlines of the village cockpit were still visible in 1841, and the old people told me that they remembered as children having a holiday from school on the fighting days, when mains were fought by birds belonging to the neighbouring gentry.

The inhabitants of the village and Parish generally were very primitive, being far removed from the "madding crowd". Those who had seen the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway when at Hexham or Stagshaw Bank Fair brought home wonderful accounts of the diabolical snorting "injun" with its awful smoke and noise.

The Public House was freely patronised by a certain set of steady old topers, who were at the weekend occasionally joined by a younger lot, and free fights were frequent, especially when the muggers happened to camp on the village green, and joined in the orgies. On one occasion Sally Anderson, a well-known female mugger, cleared the public, braying the heads of the natives with a conventional brown pot. After this performance, the muggers remained masters of the situation until such time as they elected to move their quarters. The liquor sold, I have been told, was something awful, the whisky especially having the most maddening effect on the drinkers, in one case causing the death of an old soaker who had been treated ad lib. by some farmers.

The parish clerk and schoolmaster was a well-known character, and had been appointed to the first named post because he was "lamster". I can remember seeing a notice he had written, in which he stated that a fat goose would be shot for " at the house of Mr John Canr's with Hawl", and also a letter applying for a situation of postmaster, in which he said he was willing to undertake the business on the same "predictions" as the late postmaster. In exercising the "predictions" of his office as Parish Clerk, he was a caution, making most extraordinary muddles, especially in his psalms. His singing was also of a very striking character, and he insisted on very frequently having the 29th psalm (Tate & Brady) "Ye Princes that in might excel", because it had a handy tune. He was once reading an account of a Fete at Chatsworth to a group of villagers, when, coming to the phrase "Jet d'eau spouting" he boldly slapdashed at it, and said "jackdaws spooting". After a good deal of opposition from a portion of the parishioners, he was finally shunted about 1846 and gave place to a schoolmaster of better type. Another part of his duties prior to 1841 was to give out notices of auctions from his desk in church, but this the vicar put a stop to. The clerk then hirpled out before the congregation, hopped on to a flat tombstone opposite the church door, and gave out the announcement.

In, I think, either 1842 or 1843, there was a bad outbreak of cattle disease in the parish, and also several adjacent ones, it was known as the "murrain". I can remember seeing cattle driven through a large fire in a "loaning" on "Three Farms" farm. It was a very hot Sunday. The beasts were penned up at the head of the "loaning" and, after the fire was well ablaze, they were driven through it by men and dogs. There was some curious superstition as to the fire being carried from farm to farm. A piece of touchwood was, if I remember rightly, kindled by a fire such as this, and sent by swift messenger to the next farm. Perhaps some of your correspondents could give information as to this superstition, which was probably something to do with Baal worship.

Beggars and Packmens lodging houses were rather a feature in the village. Old Molly Bewick kept one for the regular tramps, and Mary Bell one for the more aristocratic Packmen and Basket Hawkers. Regular tramps abounded and went their rounds in a methodical manner. One old man, known as "Happeny Jack", would never take anything but copper, and once when a friend of mine gave him a sixpence, he requested him to take it to the village shop and buy him "happenies". "Bonny Molly" was also very often in the village. She was decidedly mad, and was supposed to have originally belonged to a pretty good family on the Borders, and had a disappointment in love. She generally selected the Bridge Pool at Kirkwhelpington as a Bathing Place, and on one occasion she did a Lady Godiva business (on foot) round the village! The "Rev" Mr Watson from "Hawick" appeared about once a quarter, dressed in a Rusty suit of Black, dirty white choker, and with a very whisky blossomed face. He used to preach a long mumbling sermon on the Green, gather up as many coppers as possible, and then get very much drunk. I believe he was found dead on Druridge Sands after he had gone through his usual performance at Newbiggin. The new County Police Force gradually caused the retirement of the "Regulars", though some few still kept on their rounds.

The natives had a great fear of the Chartists, and I can remember the old village tailor setting off with two of his lads to sell a mule and a "cuddy" at Newcastle, but when they got past Fenham, seeing the Regiment then at the Barracks, marching out to the Nun's Moor, the old man said "Lads, the Chartists is oot, and the soulgers marchin agin them, let's away back". They accordingly turned, and report said they never drew bridle till safely in Kirkwhelpington, where they spread the most alarming reports. This same tailor was an original, and was very anxious that a site for a grave should be kept for him near the East Gate of the churchyard, "because, ye see, ay willn't have say far tae waak, when the last trumpet sounds". He read the newspapers pretty thoroughly and propounded an opinion as to the cause of some strong westerly gales, which did damage in the village, that they were caused by gaps in the American forests, through indiscriminate felling.
W.T.W.

From a hand-written text once held by Joyce Moffat (deceased) of Cliffside, which stated that it had been copied from The Newcastle Weekly Chronicle Supplement of Saturday, March 16th 1895. We have no record of the individual with the initials W.T.W.