This day would be devoted to search for our Stuart ancestors. The previous day I had picked up some scones and we had purchased some coffee so it was scones and coffee for breakfast and then we hit the road.
Our first stop would be the Tyrone Ditches Presbyterian Church. Dating back to the mid 18th century, our 2nd great grandfather, William Stuart was baptized there in 1808 and later married to our 2nd great grandmother, Sarah Paul, here in 1826. The church lies about 12 miles southeast of the city of Armagh in a tranquil pastoral setting. Across the road was a pasture of sheep. As we stood looking at the church I turned to see a yearling lamb bleating for its mother from which it had gotten separated. However, it was a small pasture and they were soon reunited.
We proceed to walk around the church and the churchyard. Though the churchyard was sparsely filled, we found a single stone in the upper part of
the yard inscribed "Sacred to the memory of John Younc Stuart of Ballydougherty who died March 2nd 1871, also his father and mother, William and Jane Stuart also Jemima Stuart who died 22nd November 1890 James Stuart who died 3rd March 1915 William Stuart who died 25th April, 1924".
Taking this information, I have our 3rd great grandfather as William Stuart, born somewhere around 1770, and his wife Jean (however, it could have been Jane).Though no death date is given for William, a guess that he might have died about 20 years before John, would put his death at about 1850 or at the age of 80. It’s quite possible that have died during the Famine around 1847. This then would make John Younc Stuart our 3rd great uncle. And possibly more importantly, a survivor of the Famine. If this is so, I wonder if he ever knew the final fate of his older brother, William, our 2nd great grandfather, or his nieces and nephews that had left for America to escape the famine. Oddly, William left for America only to die before 1849 while John lived another 20 years. As Cissy and I have often wondered, just what really possessed William to take his wife and seven children on the long journey to America. (As I write these words, I can't help that my lower lip won't stop quivering.)
As we stood across the road from the church preparing to leave, an older gentleman drove up in the sheep pasture in a well used SUV, hight Tim Cully. I'm sure he was checking up on the strangers prowling around the church. Of course Cissy asked if he had the keys to the church with him. He replied no but he had them at the house and asked if he should go get them. I mumbled some kind of "No", but Cissy spoke up and said "I have come 3000 miles and would like to see the inside of the church." And so Mr. Cully returned a few minutes later and ushered us into the church.
I must say that, compared to other churches I have been in, this one was quite austere. There were no adornments with the exception of the pulpit and the pews were certainly the epitome of a wooden bench. As they say, "it didn't take us long to look at this horse shoe", and after some discussion with Mr. Cully regarding the church and its members, we took leave of the Tyrone Ditches Presbyterian Church. Mr.
Cully said that there were some Stuarts living in the area but, unfortunately, we had an appointment with Sean Barden at the Armagh Museum at 1:30pm.
As we motored on towards Armagh, we passed the small town of Market Hill. Here we diverted looking for a quick lunch. We parked in front of what appeared to be a haberdashery of outdoor wear and, since Cissy had been looking for a "sweat shirt" to chase the chill, we walked in. Striking up a conversation with the proprietor, we explained that we had come to Ireland in search of our Stuart ancestors. Exclaiming that she knew of several Stuarts in the area and proceeded to give us the phone number and address of one such. As I write this we have not decided whether to try to contact them before we leave.
We had a quick lunch at a Fish and Chips Take Away (they had four stools by the window which we took advantage of). As I have said elsewhere, I am not fond of English Fish and Chips it being made of Cod. I much prefer the Scottish Haddoch version. Just outside the eatery in the middle of the roundabout was a small war memorial. Again, I have often remarked that every small hamlet I have come through in the British Isles has a memorial to their fallen.
We finally headed on to Armagh for our meeting at 1:30. At the Armagh County Museum we met with Sean Barden and he explained to us how many of the records were kept in Ireland at that time. Quite confusing. We spent the next hour going through what was available. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a hay stack. Unfortunately, we came away with few hard facts but Sean's discussion of the records of the times provided information that might be of help in future investigations.
Leaving the museum we had some time to spend so we headed to the St. Patrick's Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. It was founded by St. Patrick in about 445 AD and is the burial site of Brian Boru, considered to be the greatest of the ancient Irish High Kings. He ruled from 1002 till 1014, and was responsible for one of Ireland’s greatest victories at the Battle of Clontarf near Dublin where he defeated a large force of Vikings and ended their dominance of Ireland. Unfortunately, a small group of the enemy forces stumbled across his retinue after the battle and he was slain in his victory. Consequently, if you are an O’Brien, you are descended from one of the chief dynastic families of Ireland.
Finally we took leave of Armagh. We decided to set Our Lady of the GPS to ignore the freeway and thus returned on the back roads bypassing Belfast in its entirety.
This night I dined on the Prawn Curry at Mattie's with a side of the garlic fries. Oh yes, and a pint of Guinness. I topped of the meal with an Irish coffee and, with that, we called it a day.
Our first stop would be the Tyrone Ditches Presbyterian Church. Dating back to the mid 18th century, our 2nd great grandfather, William Stuart was baptized there in 1808 and later married to our 2nd great grandmother, Sarah Paul, here in 1826. The church lies about 12 miles southeast of the city of Armagh in a tranquil pastoral setting. Across the road was a pasture of sheep. As we stood looking at the church I turned to see a yearling lamb bleating for its mother from which it had gotten separated. However, it was a small pasture and they were soon reunited.
We proceed to walk around the church and the churchyard. Though the churchyard was sparsely filled, we found a single stone in the upper part of
the yard inscribed "Sacred to the memory of John Younc Stuart of Ballydougherty who died March 2nd 1871, also his father and mother, William and Jane Stuart also Jemima Stuart who died 22nd November 1890 James Stuart who died 3rd March 1915 William Stuart who died 25th April, 1924".
Taking this information, I have our 3rd great grandfather as William Stuart, born somewhere around 1770, and his wife Jean (however, it could have been Jane).Though no death date is given for William, a guess that he might have died about 20 years before John, would put his death at about 1850 or at the age of 80. It’s quite possible that have died during the Famine around 1847. This then would make John Younc Stuart our 3rd great uncle. And possibly more importantly, a survivor of the Famine. If this is so, I wonder if he ever knew the final fate of his older brother, William, our 2nd great grandfather, or his nieces and nephews that had left for America to escape the famine. Oddly, William left for America only to die before 1849 while John lived another 20 years. As Cissy and I have often wondered, just what really possessed William to take his wife and seven children on the long journey to America. (As I write these words, I can't help that my lower lip won't stop quivering.)
As we stood across the road from the church preparing to leave, an older gentleman drove up in the sheep pasture in a well used SUV, hight Tim Cully. I'm sure he was checking up on the strangers prowling around the church. Of course Cissy asked if he had the keys to the church with him. He replied no but he had them at the house and asked if he should go get them. I mumbled some kind of "No", but Cissy spoke up and said "I have come 3000 miles and would like to see the inside of the church." And so Mr. Cully returned a few minutes later and ushered us into the church.
I must say that, compared to other churches I have been in, this one was quite austere. There were no adornments with the exception of the pulpit and the pews were certainly the epitome of a wooden bench. As they say, "it didn't take us long to look at this horse shoe", and after some discussion with Mr. Cully regarding the church and its members, we took leave of the Tyrone Ditches Presbyterian Church. Mr.
Cully said that there were some Stuarts living in the area but, unfortunately, we had an appointment with Sean Barden at the Armagh Museum at 1:30pm.
As we motored on towards Armagh, we passed the small town of Market Hill. Here we diverted looking for a quick lunch. We parked in front of what appeared to be a haberdashery of outdoor wear and, since Cissy had been looking for a "sweat shirt" to chase the chill, we walked in. Striking up a conversation with the proprietor, we explained that we had come to Ireland in search of our Stuart ancestors. Exclaiming that she knew of several Stuarts in the area and proceeded to give us the phone number and address of one such. As I write this we have not decided whether to try to contact them before we leave.
We had a quick lunch at a Fish and Chips Take Away (they had four stools by the window which we took advantage of). As I have said elsewhere, I am not fond of English Fish and Chips it being made of Cod. I much prefer the Scottish Haddoch version. Just outside the eatery in the middle of the roundabout was a small war memorial. Again, I have often remarked that every small hamlet I have come through in the British Isles has a memorial to their fallen.
We finally headed on to Armagh for our meeting at 1:30. At the Armagh County Museum we met with Sean Barden and he explained to us how many of the records were kept in Ireland at that time. Quite confusing. We spent the next hour going through what was available. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a hay stack. Unfortunately, we came away with few hard facts but Sean's discussion of the records of the times provided information that might be of help in future investigations.
Leaving the museum we had some time to spend so we headed to the St. Patrick's Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. It was founded by St. Patrick in about 445 AD and is the burial site of Brian Boru, considered to be the greatest of the ancient Irish High Kings. He ruled from 1002 till 1014, and was responsible for one of Ireland’s greatest victories at the Battle of Clontarf near Dublin where he defeated a large force of Vikings and ended their dominance of Ireland. Unfortunately, a small group of the enemy forces stumbled across his retinue after the battle and he was slain in his victory. Consequently, if you are an O’Brien, you are descended from one of the chief dynastic families of Ireland.
Finally we took leave of Armagh. We decided to set Our Lady of the GPS to ignore the freeway and thus returned on the back roads bypassing Belfast in its entirety.
This night I dined on the Prawn Curry at Mattie's with a side of the garlic fries. Oh yes, and a pint of Guinness. I topped of the meal with an Irish coffee and, with that, we called it a day.
