Cullybackey magic

LARNE WEEKLY TELEGRAPH 22ND FEBRUARY1908

CULLYBACKEY AT THE BEGINNING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTRUY

The Rev. Robert Charity was Dissenting minister in 1798. His residence was situated at Hillmount. James Harper was session clerk. The church then described as belonging to the Dissenting congregation of Cullybackey was built sometime about year 1727. In the “Ballymena Observer” of October 30, 1902, there is a paragraph referring to a person who died 1808 aged 126 years, who used to say she remembered hearing guns at the siege of Derry when she was a little girl, and that she carried food to the masons and carpenters engaged in building the meeting house in Cullybackey when she was 45 years of age. It was a large plain rectangular building, adjoining the riverside, with a small belfry and exterior stairways of stone. The old sun-dial, from which the church was sometimes called the “Sun-dial Meeting House,” is still preserved in the vestibule of the new church. In addition to the usual diverging lines, it bears the inscription, “John Wylie 1727”. An interesting story of these early days is preserved in the tower of the new church, which was erected on the site of the old building in 1880. Two of the gargoyles at the base of the spire are cut to represent one a wolf’s head, the other a little girls face, as a memento of an incident which occurred to a little girl from the Woodtown who, carrying her father’s dinner to where he was working at the erection of the then new church, was attacked by a wolf. Throwing the food in her hand to it, she raised the alarm with serious results to the savage beast, which was pursued and killed.

We can judge whether money was plentiful when we learn that a man’s wages ranged from fourpence to sixpence a day, or that a boy or girl could carry their day’s earnings home in the shape of a “meal” of potatoes. The chief outdoor recreation was “shinney” (shindy), and for this they set apart special occasions, such as Christmas Day, when every player assembled at the appointed place with his well-kept “shinney” in his hand. The wood turner provided a quantity of “nags” and the game was kept up during the entire day. As might be expected in a community like this, superstition abounded. Things supernatural were matters of common gossip. Fearsome events were related by winter fire sides with much minuteness of detail. Fearsome places met the nightly wanderer at almost every turn. Old women could be found in the early summer mornings dragging over their neighbour’s grass fields a short rope. This rope plaited with the hairs of cow’s tails, became of course, saturated with the dew and had only, it was popularly believed, to be pressed in a certain way over a vessel to fill it with rich new milk – transferred by this simple means from the udder of the cow. Such people, alleged adepts at witchcraft, were naturally detested by their neighbours, as every drop of milk or ounce of butter acquired by their evil art was believed to result in a corresponding loss to the farmer whose stock had been “witched.” Old Betty McIlroy and John lived in the little house at the Pound. One summer Sunday morning a neighbouring farmer, who owned some fields convenient, on going that way to see if his cattle were alright, observed old Betty wandering about where the cattle were grazing apparently seeking for something. Going round the corner with James Kinnear they found on the fence a rope described as above. This, it was instantly surmised, was what Betty was looking for, that she might drag it over the grass to the refrain of “Come a’ tae me, come a’ tae me.” Needless to say, old Betty didn’t stripe it into the basin that morning, for the finder took it to his home where it lay about the farmyard till something occurred to their cattle, his wife let her fears get the better of her common sense, and had it burned. The fact that John and Betty were well known to have exceptional supplies of butter and milk and that John had a decided penchant for lingering near grazing cattle, did not add to their good reputation in the district. “Will o’ the wisp” was no unreal personage but while his twinkling light lured to bogs and morasses, the wayfarer on the high road was not immune from other distractions. The seeming cry of a distressed animal might lead him from the straight path to his destruction, trees by the wayside would be disturbed or violently agitated on a perfectly calm night, a pole, a deformed animal, or some hair-raising apparition would be seen moving ghost like across an open moonlight field, but keeping within the limits of the running streams. In the vicinity of graveyards strange forms and figures could often be seen. Animals were supposed to be specially sensitive to the presence of these beings, for no man, whatever his bravery, could face such a sight had his dog also seen it and fled. The brownies were nocturnal labourers but were regarded with superstition only by those who knew no better; for it would appear that in ancient times, when a man suffered at the hands of the law, or was otherwise unable to work on his farm, the clan to which he belonged gathered by night and did the necessary labour, ascribing the result to the fictitious brownie. No class of supernatural personages, however, seem to have taken hold of the popular imagination as the fairies did. They were the busybodies of that generation, their pranks forming a mine of anecdote almost inexhaustible. As according to a local belief, they had a royal residence at the “White Knowe,” near Galgorm, the fortunes of the people in that part of the country were very much in their hands. It was well known that they had their favourites, for certain people would find coins of the realm, perhaps on the frame of their spinning wheel, perhaps on the toe of their boot, or it might happen that a beautiful cambric apron would be found in some unused drawer – placed there by the fairies, of course. In the “White Well” field in Dunnygarron a penny was supposed to be lying on a stone awaiting to be picked up by whoever was first to arrive there in the morning. This easy method of getting money seems to have been as eagerly followed then as Limerick “last lines” are today. These bounties alas! only held good while the recipient kept the matter to himself. If divulged some sort of calamity usually followed, and the mysterious gifts ceased. Cases are reported where people have been so unfortunate with their livestock as to be compelled to leave their “haunted” habitation and be take themselves to another part of the country. Fairies were, it was said, sure to be amongst the most punctual guests on the occasion of a birth, with, it seems, sinister intentions, so that the fond parent considered it necessary to attach the child’s garment to her own to prevent it being taken away while she slept. We are told of one child of tender years that had been missing for some time testifying on its return that it had been playing round a hill in company with a number of children like itself, dressed in little green coats. As a rule, however, the fairies appear to have been harmless, playful sprites, with a highly developed instinct for amusement. Servers set with their contents to cool would be found overturned, the byre door would refuse to admit the ingress of the milkmaid, try how she might, though when assistance was procured it would be found to be wide open, the culprits having taken themselves to another part of the house in the meantime. These mysterious creatures invariably “rode upon darkness and took their flight on the wings of the morning” for we have no hint of their giving any trouble during the day. Ancient hawthorns were their favourite haunts, and woe betide the reckless individual who would interfere in any way with one of those hoary trees. For would not the cutting of one of them would bring grief to the person of the offender, or the breaking of a twig to his property. There was no getting over this, for had not two members of the Cunningham family, of Fenaghy, awakened one morning cripples, the result of cutting a fairy thorn. At times, presumably during the celebration of some great festival in fairyland, these notable bushes would be found, as gloaming deepened into night, to be wrapped in a blaze of light, though a subsequent examination in the light of day invariably disclosed the fact that they were still unharmed – “Ardens sed virens.” These old trees, undoubtedly fostered in many instances by superstitious fears, and once plentifully scattered over the country, are fast becoming curiosities only to be found in secluded places, for the present generation has little respect for the things of the past, nor does the wind as it sweeps over the countryside spare the venerable thorn any more than it does the sapling of yesterday. A find specimen may have been seen up until a few years ago at the top of a large field at the top of Boyd’s Hill. It is recounted to have often been seen in a blaze on dark evenings, and it is related that an attempt to burn out a magpie’s nest which had been built in it had been unsuccessful, though a fire of peats had been kindled inside. This old thorn, previously injured by some vandal with a hatchet, was blown down by a storm in 1884.

with thanks to Elizabeth Hoy for providing me with this