history – The Countryman's Daughter

Water engineering marvel

19th century Thirlmere Aqueduct is the longest gravity-fed aqueduct in the country, ending almost 100 miles away in Manchester

I spent a wonderful weekend with friends in the Lake District recently, staying a cottage near the beautiful Grasmere. It’s a lovely, though very small, village and we took time to visit the graves of the famous Wordsworth family found in St Oswald’s churchyard. We walked around the peaceful shores of the lake and also managed a challenging climb up the short but steep Grey Crag to Alcock Tarn.

On the way down the fell, our route guide told us to look out for Thirlmere Aqueduct, a gravity-fed pipeline built in Victorian times that takes fresh water all the way from Thirlmere Reservoir to the city of Manchester. This reminded me of hydro engineer Joseph Foord whom I wrote about in this column a couple of years ago. In the mid-1700s, Foord came up with a groundbreaking system of channels that used gravity to feed fresh water to remote villages high on the North York Moors.

The aqueduct was easy to spot, and took the form of a grass-topped masonry bridge over one of the many streams that tumbled down the hillside. I assumed the stream formed part of the aqueduct, providing plenty of gravity as it raced down the hill, but I was confused about how the system worked. In my head, an aqueduct carries water over or through an obstacle, and upon first sight, this little bridge went over the stream but was not connected to it. Another question was why was it called Thirlmere Aqueduct, when Thirlmere was a good six miles away.

Of course, my column-writing brain kicked immediately into gear, and once I got home, I set about finding out more about this engineering conundrum.

It turns out that what we were looking at was indeed the aqueduct, but the water that was being transported to Manchester was inside the bridge, not running underneath it. The ‘bridge’ was not a bridge at all, but a tunnel.

The aqueduct was the brainchild of engineer John Frederic La Trobe Bateman who was a big name in hydroengineering and established the foundation of today’s British water industry. As the Industrial Revolution took hold, Manchester grew increasingly important as a commercial centre and as a result, the population rapidly grew too. To continue to be successful, the city would need far more water that it was currently getting.

Bateman identified the Lake District as a potential source because it had more far more water than its inhabitants needed, and also plenty of rainfall to ensure a continuous supply. After deliberating over which lake was most suitable, Thirlmere was chosen. There was plenty of opposition from locals understandably wanting to preserve it just as it was. But they were overruled.

I’m a little confused as to the date the ambitious project began, as some online resources suggest it was Queen Victoria who gave the go-ahead in 1890. But I found an obituary published in the year of Bateman’s death (10th June 1889), in which it states work had begun by 1880.

The initial stage involved increasing the size of the lake. Bateman calculated that they had to raise its height by 56 metres to provide the 50 million gallons a day needed, and, which they would achieve by building a dam at one end, and flooding the valley behind it to create a large reservoir.

The next engineering feat was to transport that water across 96 miles and 28 valleys using gravity alone. A series of tunnels totalling around 50 miles were dug out of the rocky hills, some large enough to fit a small car through. The ‘cut and cover’ method was used whereby a ‘D’-shaped trench was dug, lined with brick, and covered with earth. Cast iron pipes were used for the remaining 46 miles and a gentle gradient of 1 in 3000 ensured a consistent southerly flow of water.

In various places, they had to cross fast-flowing streams tumbling down the fells, some of which ran below the level of the aqueduct. In such cases, the tunnels were constructed within small masonry bridges built over these streams, which is exactly what we saw on our descent from Alcock Tarn.

Thirlmere Aqueduct remains the longest aqueduct in the country, and continues to provide Manchester with its supply using gravity as its main mode of transport.

Those Victorians weren’t half clever.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 22nd May and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 20th May 2026

The Grassington Murder explained by one who was there

Dr Petty’s body was dumped in the River Wharf

The book, The Grassington Murder by Mark Bridgeman, has arrived! Tom Lee was executed in 1768 for the killing of Dr Richard Petty after he had already been tried in 1766, but acquitted for lack of evidence. It includes the deposition of John Burnup, Lee’s manservant, whose testimony led to the conviction two years after the murder itself.

First, I must clear up a little confusion. Last time I mentioned John Burnup, one newspaper account gave a different name, that of John Bowness. In fact, Bowness and Burnup were two different people, both involved in the dastardly plot. Further confusion arises thanks to varying spellings of people’s surnames. ‘Burnup’ is sometimes spelled ‘Burnap’ and ‘Bowness’ is also spelled ‘Bownass’ and ‘Bownas’.

As Bridgeman explains, Burnup’s testimony is published in the 28th July 1768 edition of the Stamford Mercury. It explains that Burnup was Tom Lee’s servant, but left his employment a couple of months after Petty was killed, going into service in Durham. It’s the closest we are ever likely to get to a contemporaneous version of what took place on that fateful night in April 1766:

‘On that day two years on which Mr. Petty was murdered he mentioned it to his then Master, who took him before a Justice of the Peace, to whom he related the particulars of the murder, whereupon Lee was committed a second time’.

There follows a fairly graphic and fascinating description of what happened, which reveals Lee did not act alone, and that his wife Jane was also involved. Here you go:

‘John Burnap deposed that Thomas Lee kept a public House at Grassington, and used to work in the Lead Mines; that he, Burnap, lived as a servant with him; that on Easter Eve, 1766, his Master, John Hully, John Bownas, and himself were in company at his said Master’s house; that they discoursed about Horse stealing and scarcity of Money; that Bowness said it was no crime to murder somebody and then take his money; that Lee said there would be money enough stirring at Kettlewell Cockings on the Tuesday following…on the morning they went to the Cockings, where Lee got into company with Mr. Petty, and it was concerted among them that Hully and Burnap…should place themselves at Grass Wood Gate, and bar it with a large Stone, to prevent any person passing that way; that Lee and Bownas were to make a noise to apprise Hully and Burnap of their approach; accordingly about Eight at night…Lee as had been concerted, quarrelled with Petty, or at least pretended so to do, and when he came near the Gate gave him a blow on the head with the thick of his Whip; that Hully thereupon came and pulled him off his horse, and held him by the throat till he was dead; that he, Burnap, rifled his pockets, and took thereout three Guineas and two half Guineas, wrapt in an Advertisement for Cockings; that they then removed the body, and laid it among some Reeds at Grass Wood; after that they removed the body three different times, and lastly, about five Weeks after the murder, threw it into the River, and dropped his Gloves by the water side, in order to make it be believed he was drowned; that Lee’s wife, Bownas and Hully always assisted in removing the body; and that he, Burnap, was threatened by Hully and Bownas, when Lee was first committed to the Castle, to be served in the same manner that Petty had been, if ever they said anything about it…Lee behaved in the most obdurate manner, denying the crime for which he suffered to his last moment. He is to be hung in Chains near the place where the murder was committed.’

Despite the testimony suggesting that it was Hully who actually killed Petty, both he and Bownas were acquitted at a later trial. For giving evidence, John Burnup was ‘discharged by proclamation’ and allowed to walk free. Lee’s wife Jane was never penalised for her part in the crime.

York Castle records explain that the murderer was to be ‘hung in chains at Grassington Gate’, i.e. displayed in a gibbet hung near the site of the murder, not only as as a deterrent to others, but also to heap posthumous shame upon Tom Lee.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 15th May and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 13th May 2026

A Petty Crime?

When I sat down today, I’d planned to do more research on the case of the Grassington Murderer Tom Lee, then write my column.

Well, four hours later, I’d still not typed a word, yet had written almost 12 pages of notes! I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole, getting lost in the British Newspaper Archives (BNA), and reading as much was immediately available in an online excerpt from the most definitive recent account of the case (The Grassington Murder by Mark Bridgeman). I then had a long convoluted discussion with ChatGPT, and finally ended up ferreting around the National Archives where they hold witness depositions from the time. Mr Bridgeman features one such deposition in his book. I have ordered a copy which has yet to arrive.

Because my deadline is looming, I cannot wait, so in the meantime, I will outline the sorry tale, with thanks in particular to Mr Bridgeman, and a flamboyant account from 21st July 1876 from the Todmorden and Hebden Bridge Advertiser. Although the account is detailed, it was written more than 100 years after the murder, so is it reliable?

My impression from talking to people on the ground is that they ‘sort of’ know the story, but that it has reached almost mythical status. It will have been embellished and exaggerated with each retelling, and yet at its heart is an actual murder and father who was hanged for it.

It may surprise you to know that in 1766, 35-year-old Tom Lee was a well established businessman in Grassington while Richard Petty was the local doctor aged in his 30s. On the surface, Lee was respectable, married to Jane and father to three children. By the mid-1750s he was running the Blue Anchor Inn, and employed a manservant named John Burnup (also called ‘Bowness’ in the Todmorden Advertiser version). It was Burnup who would be the witness to come forward with the crucial evidence that led to Lee’s demise.

Lee had dodgy reputation though, and seemed to have more money than he could have earned from his regular business. It is also true that highway robberies and property break-ins surged once Lee had landed in the village. There was plenty of money flying about, thanks to the increase in mining in the area, and workers being paid in cash that was transported on horseback by a brave bank couriers.

Lee’s favourite pastimes were drinking and gambling at cock fights, and it is these that brought him into the path of Dr Petty who also enjoyed the cock fighting scene.

Lee’s downfall began when he tried to rob a bank courier on the road to Grassington. The courier was carrying a pistol and shot Lee in the leg. Badly injured, he fled, and the legend suggests he hid in the cave I mentioned when I first wrote about this story a few weeks ago. The severity of his injury meant that he needed help, so he turned to Dr Petty. Although Petty patched him up, he knew how it had occurred, but kept quiet – for the time being.

But when he had too much to drink, he would drop hints as to his secret, holding it over Lee’s head. At the time, such crimes incurred the death penalty, and Lee feared that the doctor’s loose lips would send him to the gallows.

After one drunken evening, the pair rode towards home, but only one made it back. Petty’s body was found later in Grass Wood, and although Lee was the main suspect, no-one had seen him do the deed. He was therefore acquitted at his first trial, but two years later his manservant John Burnup, came forward with new evidence. And it is that evidence that I am awaiting to read in Bridgeman’s book.

In the 1876 account, Lee is described as: ‘diabolical’, ‘avaricious’, ‘wicked’ and ‘revengeful’, while Dr Petty is ‘noted for his talents and his benevolence, and was held in great respect throughout the whole of Upper Wharfedale’.

But real life is never that black and white, is it? Both men were, it seems, avid gamblers and drinkers, and according to the same account, Petty taunted Lee about the secret he held, which belies his ‘benevolence’. I’m not saying Tom Lee was a saint, but there may be more to it that simple wickedness.

What do you think?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 8th May and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 6th May 2026

Is it Written in the Stars?

A rather blurry old photo of the Corkseller’s Grave. But the shape of the hills in the background might help us identify the location. Can you recognise it? (Picture: Paul Grantham)

I am constantly surprised by how far and wide my columns are read.

Chris Starfire contacted me with the following: “Hello, I’m far away in Oregon in the USA but fascinated by your story of the Corkseller’s Grave.” Chris, I am fascinated how you found me – and by your surname too! Where does an exotic name like Starfire come from?

Chris read the piece a few weeks ago in which I described trying to find the grave with the help of my son Joey. We were unsuccessful, and Chris got in touch with a couple of helpful ideas: “Poking around online, I noticed that there are two sets of instructions to find the grave and they differ in 30 yards.”

He spotted that in my piece I said ‘…you will find the grave on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey. Stop by the small bridge over Bluewath Beck and walk for 50 yards heading east along the south bank of the stream.’

But he found an further piece written by Paul Grantham, other than the 1990s article of his which I had used for my column. He noticed that it said: ‘The isolated grave lies just south of the road junction one mile north of Hamer House, at a point where the road crosses the beck. Park on the bridge and follow the stream east for about 20 yards.’

There was a small photo accompanying the article, and Chris pointed out: “The photo is quite small on the Grantham website, but could be useful for a sight line on the surrounding hills… Best of luck finding the grave if you go looking again!”

I have tried my best to improve the image, which I’ve included with this piece, and it’s not the best quality, but indeed the shape of the background hills can clearly be seen in the distance. Could this be useful for identification? Someone who knows the area better than me might be able to recognise it. If so, please do get in touch!

I have also been contacted by yet another arm of the Eddon family, who you may remember were at one time the licensees of Hamer Inn. James and Elizabeth Eddon took over from the Ford family at the end of the 18th century, and had 11 children. Lily, took over the running of Hamer Inn in 1914 when her parents moved on.

“Following on from your articles about Hamer House, I am David Turnbull grandson of Elizabeth and James Eddon. My mother was Annie Eddon, daughter of Elizabeth and James, and she married Wilfred Turnbull. She was sister to Lily Boddy. Annie was one of 11 children and was born at Hamer Inn. The family moved at some point to run the Black Bull pub on the Pickering/Malton Road where James was unfortunately kicked by a horse and killed. We presume Lily was left behind to run Hamer. My sisters think Lily died quite young but we have no dates. I hope this information is of interest to you.”

It certainly is of interest, David, and I am very grateful to you for getting in touch. I was very sorry to learn about the way James died, which Paul Grantham had mentioned in his 1990s article that I featured. It must have been in 1923 because my research shows that Annie, who was born in 1906, was 17 at the time.

As for David’s question about how long Lily lived, I think she reached a fair age judging by the photos that I published a few weeks back, but I’m not sure how long, or the year that she passed away. Perhaps one of her many relatives out there will be able to tell us?

In the meantime, I have another mystery that has landed in my lap. I was invited on a trip into the Yorkshire Dales last weekend, and on a lovely walk, I spotted a cave in the side of a hill.

I was informed that the legendary Grassington murderer Tom Lee used the cave to hide from his pursuers.

Grassington murderer? Of course that set me off on another quest to find out who the heck Tom Lee was, and what had happened. If you are reading this and know that story, I’d love to hear from you!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 24th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 22nd April 2026

Slave to history

The baffling inscription on Betty Stiven’s grave on the island of Tobago in the Caribbean, spotted by reader Peter Sotheran. Do you know what the last sentence means?

Another family connected to Hamer Inn has been in touch with me following previous columns about Joseph Ford and his descendants, who include readers and cousins, David and Ian Ford.

In one of my columns I mentioned the Eddon family. James and Elizabeth Eddon took over running the inn from the Ford family, and Annie Eddon, later Turnbull, was born at Hamer in 1906. Annie was the second youngest of 11 children.

I previously mentioned a column written in the 1990s in which Annie remembered: “On the Glaisdale side of the house is a beck (Bluewath) and I can remember going down to the beck with my mother to wash clothes. We took a big cauldron and lit a fire under it to boil the water and clothes.

“We had a pump in the pub yard but in summer it ran dry and we had to carry water from the beck…One of the outbuildings was used by my father for making besoms from heather, and on Mondays, Mother would ride a pony to Pickering market to try to sell them.”

It was Annie’s sister, Lily Boddy, who took over from her father in 1914, and you might recall a fabulous photo I shared a few weeks ago showing Lily next to the well with (I presume) her mum Elizabeth Eddon bending over it, bottom in the air!

Following that, I have been contacted by Susan Ellis who wrote: “Further to your piece…my mum has asked me to contact you. My mum is Pauline Elizabeth Ellis (nee Turnbull) one of 6 children, all still alive, and who originate from Wrelton.

“My mum’s grandma and grandad are James and Elizabeth Eddon. One of their daughters, Annie, is my mum’s mum and Annie had some time growing up at Hamer House.

“We would be very interested in any photos you might let us look at, along with any more information.”

I replied to Susan, and sent her some articles and links to the columns about Hamer where I featured photos of the property before it became derelict (which you can find on www.countrymansdaughter.com). Type ‘Hamer’ in the search box and they should come up.

A few days later, Susan wrote to me again: “Thank you Sarah. I’ve just been reading everything out to Mam. It is all fascinating isn’t it? What hardy folk they all were! Mam and I will have a chat and see if any stories surface that can be shared.”

Now to a different, yet equally interesting, query which another reader has brought to my attention, and upon which I am hoping you might be able to shed some light.

Peter Sotheran got in touch because in the past I have written columns discussing the historical resting places of various people. I’ll let Peter explain:

“Many thanks for your columns – always unearthing something fascinating! A while ago, I think you wrote about various gravestones and that stirred in me a memory of a mysterious gravestone that I discovered whilst on holiday on the Caribbean island of Tobago.

“Plymouth on the north-west coast of Tobago is a small coastal community with a population approaching 10,000 residents. English settlers arrived there 400 years ago, hence the prevalence of British place names; Scarborough, Roxborough and Speyside are principal towns on the island.

“One of the island’s greatest curiosities is the inscription on the grave of a local lady, Betty Stiven. After recording the date of her death, the gravestone carries the following message:

‘She was a mother without knowing it and a wife without letting her husband know it, except by her kind indulgences to him.‘

“I wondered if your ever-erudite readers can suggest an explanation?”

I read the inscription (which you can see above) and came up with the conclusion that because her child is interred with her, she died in childbirth, in which case, she would not have experienced motherhood at the age of 23.

I find the last part of the sentence is quite baffling. Perhaps she died soon after getting married? Or was she the unmarried mistress to a plantation slave master? The inscription is quite loving, though, so perhaps it was a genuine marriage? Peter thinks the size and style of her gravestone suggests she was more likely part of the white elite rather than the poorer indigenous community, but is not certain.

I’d love to hear what you think!

This column appeared in the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 15th and the Darlington and Stockton Times on 17th April 2026

Crossing the Fords to Haymoor

The copy of the liquor licence transferring the lease of the Lettered Board to Joseph Ford, dated ‘fourth day of May One thousand eight hundred and fifty eight’

L-R Ian Ford, David Ford (back), Richard Ford (front), Ada Ford, Margaret Ford, Sylvia Ford and Eileen Roe on a family day out in about 1959. The ruins of Hamer House can be seen in the background.

I’m continuing to be surprised by how many memories my columns about Hamer Inn have jogged.

The latest contact came from reader Ian Ford. As his surname suggests, he is related to the Fords who were licensees of the inn in the mid-1800s. Ian is the cousin of David Ford, whose original message to me asking for photos of the inn sparked off this whole chain of columns. Ian is the great great grandson of Robert Ford who was born at Hamer in 1860. Robert was the son of Joseph Ford who took over the licence in 1858 and the brother of Joseph Ford Junior, who wrote a book about life on the North York Moors called ‘Some Reminiscences and Folk Lore of Danby Parish and District.’

Ian sent me copies of correspondence between himself and my dad from 2007 relating to Hamer, including some old family photos taken in the 1950s with the inn in the background, which by then was derelict but still clearly a building of some sort. As you know if you’ve read my previous columns, all that lies there today is a pile of old stones.

I’ve referred to Hamer as a property ‘of many names’ and they include The Lettered Board, The Wayside Inn, Hamer Inn and Hamer House. Ian revealed there was yet another name – Haymoor House. Surely that is its ‘posh’ name, because if you say it in a local accent, you get to Hamer (pronounced Hay-mer).

Ian included a copy of the original licence from when Joseph Ford took it over in 1858. You might recall that I mentioned that my dad had a copy of that licence:

‘Hamer’s role as an inn declined after 1870, the year a local writer called Joseph Ford was born at the remote house. His father was landlord and I have a copy of a licensing application dated 1858 in which the liquor licence of the Lettered Board was transferred to Joseph Senior.’

I searched for the licence in my dad’s files, but was disappointed when I was unsuccessful. What I didn’t know then was that there was a reason I could not find it, and that reason was revealed in the letters that Ian sent me.

Ian had contacted my dad after reading his book ‘Murders and Mysteries From the North York Moors’ in which both Joseph Fords are mentioned. He cites the tales Dad covered in the book, including those about the Lettered Board, and goes on to explain his family connection. He’d asked if he could see a copy of the old liquor licence transferring the lease to from the previous landlord to Joseph Ford.

Dad’s letter of reply states: “So far as the liquor licence for The Lettered Board at Hamer is concerned, I enclose my copy of it. It is dated 1858 and Joseph’s name was quite clear. It is an ancient photocopy – and I can’t remember where I got it from – but I doubt if it would reproduce any better on our modern equipment. As I can’t think I am likely to have any further use for it, please accept it with my compliments.”

So my dad had given it to Ian – no wonder I couldn’t find it! Yet another minor mystery solved thanks to you wonderful readers.

Incidentally, Ian reminded me that he had been in touch with me a couple of years ago regarding Joseph Pilmoor, the illegitimate son of Joseph Foord, the groundbreaking hydro engineer who came up with ways of ensuring remote moorland communities were served with fresh running water. Foord had had a liaison with a lady called Sarah Pilmoor from Fadmoor near Kirkbymoorside, and as a result, he was thrown out of the Quakers. Born in 1739, his son, inspired by founder of Methodism John Wesley, grew up to be one of the most successful preachers who travelled to the USA to recruit followers. Today there are around six million Methodists 30,000+ churches in the USA. He has countless plaques and memorials dedicated to him in many states and is described by them as a ‘pioneer missionary’. A remarkable feat for a lad from North Yorkshire.

Ian thinks both families might be connected, and indeed his branch used to spell their surname ‘Foord’ until the 19th century. Does anyone out there know for sure?

This column appeared in the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 8th and the Darlington and Stockton Times on 10th April 2026

Watch what you wish for

My son Joey and I went to the North York Moors near the site of Hamer Inn to look for the Corkseller’s Grave but were unsuccessful

I’ve had some interesting information about the Corkseller’s Grave that I mentioned a couple of weeks back. If you recall, I quoted a 1990s article written by Paul Grantham in which he explained that our corkseller would have been trekking the moors in the 18th century. Sadly, his threadbare clothes were not enough to protect him one savage winter, and he perished. Hard-up locals would not have been willing to bear the cost of a funeral and so they would have buried him where he was found, which was legal at the time.

My son Joey and I tried to find his grave, but were unsuccessful. I’m thrilled that the writer himself, Paul Grantham, got in touch after reading the column: “I was told, and shown, the Corkseller’s Grave by Dick Bell, the first head ranger of the Moors. He kept the grave marked, and tidied up the stones whenever he passed the site. He told me because he was sure that I would continue to keep it tidy. Sadly, it now appears to be neglected and is in desperate need of some TLC.

“I have records of many unconsecrated graves across the country, some in danger of being lost forever. There is (at least) one other grave on the Moors which beggars belief and will make a wonderful story if written up by someone more skilful than me. There is another story of a missing body which revolves around the little known group of cunning folk called St Mark’s Maidens who operate on the eve of St Mark’s Day. This is April 24th…so it will be here soon.”

I’m looking forward to hearing more from Paul about these mysterious tales, and will of course pass them on to you once I read them for myself.

His comment about St Mark’s Maidens made me want to find out about them, but there was not much that I was able to discover specifically with that name, although there is plenty about St Mark’s Eve.

St Mark the Evangelist was one of Christ’s 12 apostles and is best known for having one of the Bible’s four Gospel books of the New Testament attributed to him. He is the patron saint of many things, including lions, lawyers, opticians, pharmacists, painters, secretaries, interpreters, prisoners and people with insect bites!

I can’t find anything suggesting he is connected with predicting the future or romantic love, which is why it’s a bit odd that the day before his saint’s day is all about ‘divination’, specifically people trying to either find their life partner or determine who is going to die in the coming year.

All sorts of curious practices took place in the hope that at the end, the supplicant would discover the identity of their intended one. Both men and women performed these customs, so would it be that the women were known as St Mark’s Maidens? Would the men then be ‘Masters’?

Rituals included women walking backwards towards a well before circling it three times, also backwards, while wishing to see their future husband. After the second circle, she would peer into the water where the face of her intended would reveal itself. Presumably if she didn’t like the look of him, she’d not complete a third turn!

Another custom was to set the dinner table and leave the front door open. The next person through the door would be your true love. If you didn’t like cooking you could instead visit a church yard at midnight, pluck some grass from a grave and leave it under your pillow. When you awoke, the next person you saw would be THE one.

As for predicting who would pass away, ‘watchers’ would sit in the church porch and at midnight the apparitions of those to die in the coming year would file past. If the watcher at any time fell asleep, then they would be the one to perish. A similar custom was ‘chaff riddling’ where the watcher had to sit by a barn door riddling chaff all night. At midnight the spectres of those who would pass away would parade past. In his book ‘Yorkshire Days’, my dad tells the a story of a female watcher from Malton seeing a coffin being carried by two men.

She was dead within the year.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 3rd and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 1st April 2026

Snippets from the past all sewn up

A needlework sampler showing a view of York Minster created in 1841 by 16-year-old Ann Raw. She included a depiction of a stained glass window and grazing sheep and cattle next to the building. Picture by Witney Antiques.

Another family mystery has landed in my inbox after a reader came across a series of columns I wrote in late 2022/early 2023 about a set of three needlework samplers that had been hanging in my family kitchen for years.

Two were done by ancestors on my mum’s side of the family while the third was by a little girl called Hannah Raw, who was only nine when she created it in 1835, but about whom we knew nothing.

Following some expert internet sleuthing by my wonderful readers, over the following weeks and months we managed to flesh out much of Hannah’s story, discovering that by the age of 13 she was an orphan, but later married a John Hall, had two children, and even later became a grandmother. She died in 1890 aged 64 and was buried at St Thomas’ Church, Glaisdale. I was ultimately able to find her grave and go and pay my respects.

Sarah Duce, who is based in Limerick, Ireland, got in touch: “I am interested in a school of samplers based around Lastingham. My great aunt Hannah Stonehouse…in 1808 completed a sampler which is quite rare apparently and recently sold to the States for a tidy sum because it depicted the Napoleonic Wars.”

Sarah’s family came originally from Lastingham, but moved first to Hartlepool then to Scunthorpe. Sarah moved to Ireland 30 years ago and is trying to piece together her North Yorkshire roots.

She goes on to explain that Hannah Stonehouse’s sampler was one of four about which she is trying to find out more. “I believe one might have been by a Mary Wilson who was born around 1791 in Hartoft, and wondered if there might have been some sort of connection…I believe my Great Grandma x5, Sarah Harding (nee Smith), may have been the teacher of these girls…She was schoolmistress of Lastingham following the death of her schoolmaster husband from consumption at the young age of 30.”

It was not unusual for widows to take on the work of their late husbands to earn a living to support themselves and their children. Sarah had three little ones, the youngest just two weeks old, and was still the schoolmistress at the age 80, as revealed in her entry on the 1841 census.

Sarah wondered if Hannah Raw was one of the girls sent to the Lastingham sewing school. She explains that her 5x great grandmother Sarah would have had no formal education and was likely illiterate at the time of her marriage “…so must have brushed up her skills quickly, but maybe sewing was the backbone of her teachings…I also saw during my research…a newspaper of 1997 illustrating a 1841 sampler by Ann Raw, age 16, entitled the ‘South View of the Minster’…I wonder if there might be a connection there?”

I cannot answer that question, and Lastingham is a good 15 miles away from where Hannah Raw lived in the Lealholm area. But perhaps a family history sleuth reading this might be able to help, as they did before when finding out such useful information about Hannah. Raw is a common name, and I would imagine that to produce an image of that view of York Minster in 1841, Ann would have had to have sat in front of it to know what it looked like. That would possibly mean she would have been living in York, which in the 19th century was a long journey from the North York Moors. She was a similar age to Hannah Raw, so perhaps they were cousins?

I found an image of the sampler in question on a Facebook page run by Witney Antiques, an Oxfordshire-based specialist in embroidery and samplers. They describe it as follows:

‘This sampler, which shows a view of York Minster, was completed by 16-year-old Ann Raw on 14th February 1841. Her handling of the cathedral’s stained glass window is incredibly charming, as is the depiction of grazing sheep and cattle in the grass next to the building.’

Sarah ended her message by saying: “You never know where little snippets of info can come from, so you have to keep asking!”

You do indeed, Sarah, and I am hoping that someone reading this might just have the key to the little snippets we are looking for.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th March 2026

Mark of respect for lowly corkseller

The corkseller’s grave near Bluewath Beck, high on the North York Moors , in a photo taken by reader John Severs in the 1990s.

I’m am getting some wonderful extra information coming in from you brilliant readers on topics I have covered in recent weeks.

If you recall, I’ve been writing about Hamer Inn, which was a thriving coaching stop on the North York Moors on the high road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey. It had a number of previous names including the Lettered Board, and the Wayside Inn, ultimately ending up as Hamer House before it became derelict sometime in the late 1930s we believe. All that remains now are a few stones on a patch of smooth grass.

I first mentioned the inn thanks to reader David Ford, who is trying to trace a picture of it before it became derelict. Sadly we have yet to find one, but his message led me to re-read what my dad had written about it, including three stories of mysterious deaths at the inn. In the first, two apparently healthy guests retired to bed, only to be found dead the next day with no apparent cause. The second was a licensee who killed his wife, and the third involved a fight ending with a man being bludgeoned to death with a poker.

There was another sad story that occurred not inside the inn itself but nearby. A corkseller was a regular visitor, and David Ford’s ancestors, who were licensees, knew him well. One ferocious winter, he succumbed to the elements and his body was found much later not far from the Lettered Board Inn, his basket of corks lying nearby enabling him to be identified.

Reader John Severs got in touch and said: “After reading your article…I rummaged in my documents and photos to find something which may interest you. The photo that I took approximately 30 years ago shows the corkseller’s grave.”

The corkeseller’s grave? I was astounded, because I never imagined that such a thing existed, nor that it is still visible to this day. My dad did not mention it in his book and I don’t recall him talking about it to me, which might explain why I remained in ignorance.

I wonder if you agree with me, that it is quite a moving and remarkable image, showing the full length of the grave, marked out in stones in the unmistakable shape of a human body.

John also sent me a copy of an article written about the same time (1990s) about unconsecrated graves, with a focus on this particular one. The text, written by Paul Grantham, is an extract from the North Moors Association magazine and describes how well received itinerant tradespeople like the corkseller were:

‘As well as plying their trade they would bring news of the outside world, provide an extra pair of hands for heavy jobs and when necessary, act as entertainer and confidante…such was the prevailing attitude that they would generally receive, at the minimum, some sustenance and overnight shelter.’

Grantham believes our corkseller would have been active on the moors in the 18th century, trekking between isolated farms and inns peddling his wares. He would have been a familiar face and his arrival expected by local farmers and licensees.

Sadly, his threadbare clothes were not enough to protect him from one particularly savage winter, and he perished, his body being discovered some time later with his meagre belongings nearby.

At the time, no-one would have wanted to take responsibility for transporting him to the nearest church for burial because of the costs involved and so, as was perfectly legal at the time, they would have buried him where he was found.

Although this tale was passed down by word of mouth, there are no official records revealing the man’s name or anything else about him. But over the years, passers-by would realign the stone markers and someone occasionally placed a wooden cross at its head (the previous ones being ruined by the elements).

I would like to pay my respects next time I am over that way, and if you do too, you will find the grave on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey. Stop by the small bridge over Bluewath Beck and walk for 50 yards heading east along the south bank of the stream.

I’m not sure if anyone still places a cross there, but if you know anything at all, do tell!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 27th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 25th Feb 2026

Homing in on Hamer

**The 1989 Malton Gazette and Herald article about Hamer House sent to me by Howard Campion. Do you know who wrote it?**

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that reader Howard Campion was sending me a copy of a 1989 article that talked about Hamer Inn that once stood on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey on the North York Moors. Also known as the Lettered Board, all that now remains is a pile of stones on an expanse of smooth grass surrounded by heather. It used to be a thriving inn providing rest and sustenance for weary travellers and workers from the coal mines operating nearby.

Howard wondered if the article had been written by my dad (there was no writer’s name attached to it) and now that I have had a chance to read it, I think not. The writing style is a little different and because my dad was not an employed ‘reporter’ as such, he rarely conducted interviews like those that are featured. Unless the writer recognises his work and gets in touch, we might never know! I have attached a picture of said article, so that you can see it for yourself. It is a fascinating piece!

The article features first-hand accounts from those who remember it before it became derelict, which is highly useful when putting together a historical record. What I found really interesting is that this inn of many names had yet another, according to writer Joseph Ford, who was born there while his father, also called Joseph, was licensee in the mid to late 1800s. Joseph Ford junior, who died in 1944, was the great great uncle of David Ford, the reader who first contacted me, setting off this whole chain of Hamer-related columns.

The article states: ‘Ford, who said Hamer was then called the Wayside Inn, described how wagoners leading lime from Cropton would rest their tired horses at Hamer and feed them bags of clover while they partook of beer and egg-and-bacon pie.’

A lady called Annie Turnbull was born at Hamer in 1906, after the Ford family had left. ‘The pub was run by her father and mother, James and Elizabeth Eddon, and Mrs Turnbull was the second youngest of 11 children. They supplemented their income by farming a few acres adjoining the inn, and when last there, Mrs Turnbull could still trace the paddocks.’

Annie remembered: “On the Glaisdale side of the house is a beck (Bluewath) and I can remember going down to the beck with my mother to wash clothes. We took a big cauldron and lit a fire under it to boil the water and clothes.

“We had a pump in the pub yard but in summer it ran dry and we had to carry water from the beck. For reasons I can’t remember, one of the paddocks was called Pig’s Lug. One of the outbuildings was used by my father for making besoms from heather, and on Mondays, Mother would ride a pony to Pickering market to try to sell them.”

Annie’s sister, Lily Boddy, took over from her father in 1914, and it remained an inn for some time thereafter. Wilf Turnbull, Annie’s husband, recalled visiting Hamer in 1943: “All the outbuildings had been pulled down. Only the old pub was still standing and it was being used as a shooting house.”

Terry Ashby has also contacted me about Hamer: “At school in the early 1960s I discovered the delights of the one-inch OS maps and having moved to the North York Moors, I bought ‘Sheet 86 Redcar & Whitby’. There was Hamer House clearly marked. I wondered what it was and I probably pestered my dad to drive there to have a look. There wasn’t much left of it even then. I found out later that it had been an inn and later still I found it mentioned in an historical novel. I can’t remember the title or the author. I find these old ruins fascinating and quite poignant as they always pose questions about who lived there and when and why they were abandoned.”

Does anyone know the novel Terry refers to? And don’t forget, David Ford is still searching for a photo of the inn before it became derelict. Do any of you have one lurking at the back of a drawer somewhere? Maybe it’s time to have a clear out. You never know what you might find!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th Feb 2026