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Showing posts from September, 2012

Churches of the Strath - a Way of Life

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  Fowlis Wester Kirk       Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, and stone, And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff Up at the holy end; the small neat organ; And a tense, musty, unignorable silence, Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off My cycle-clips in awkward reverence, Move forward, run my hand around the font. From where I stand, the roof looks almost new- Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don't. Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce 'Here endeth' much more loudly than I'd meant. The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence . . Religion is an intensely personal thing and indeed   traditionally it is passed   down   through the generations . I come   from a long line of non conformist Presbyterians . My four times gr
Religion is an intensely personal thing and indeed   traditionally it is passed   down   through the generations . I come   from a long line of non conformist Presbyterians . My four times great grandfather John McPhorich Lamont was born about the time of the Jacobite   Rising that was to end so tragically at Culloden . John was a Seceder - followers of the ministers   who broke away from the   Established Presbyterian Church of Scotland in 1732 . He lived   in that beautiful part of Argyll   called Cowal bounded   by the   waters of the Firth of Clyde   to the   south   and   the rolling hills   and mountains of Argyll to the north . He and his brother Neil   were herring curers and lived a nd worked   on the shores of the aptly named Holy Loch to the east of Dunoon . The   brothers and   their   families   travelled on foot   each Sunday to Toward Nuilt a round trip of some 14 miles . The driving force   behind   this small congregation   was an eminent Scotsman called Dr John Ja

Lewis Miller - farm boy - religious rebel - entrepreneur - lad o' pairts !

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Balloch Loch     Lewis Miller was a local lad who of all the outstanding people   from the Strath in the 19 th century most stand out clearly from the crowd . Farm worker, forester, entrepreneur, philanthropist are but a few words to describe a man who in a comparatively short life achieved so much. The Parish of Muthill lies immediately to the south of Crieff and is extensive – extending to Braco and Greenloaning in the south, Blackford in the east and Comrie in the west. Registration of births, marriages and deaths was brought into force in Scotland on the 1 st of January 1855. Prior to that we had to rely on the parish registers which were not compulsory and covered baptisms (christenings), births and marriage but seldom deaths. The records of Muthill commenced in 1676 but were lost and recommenced in 1704. These records were destroyed in an accident when there was a fire in the Parish Clerk’s house. They were partially re written but sadly are seriously incomplete. U

Bonnie Strathearn

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Well,well, well – yet more wells ! Once Crieff’s only source of fresh water .

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I recently wrote a blog   on the wells of Strathearn which created considerable interest. My good friend Jess Smith – raconteur – singer and   author   of   considerable repute , commented , and I quote ,   “ as a lassie I knew all these wells because Travelling folk needed precious water en route – when I was caretaker at Knox House   in Coldwells Road (Morrison’s Music Dept.   ) I was excited to see the “ cold well ” sunk in my laundry outhouse and covered   with a thin metal plate . The well in King Street sunk into the wall of the Market Park was the only source of water   for the residents prior to piped water ---   I always   spit through a ring for good luck when passing wells --- the mystical St Bridget ( St Bride ) was seen to visit wells across Ireland   sitting on a pure white horse . One day an Irishman saw her watering her horse at Strowan Well ( 2 miles west of Crieff ) . Disturbed   by the vision he went home. When there   he overheard soldiers talking of burning a