#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 4: 'Invite to Dinner'

Week 4 Prompt: 'Invite to Dinner'

There are two men I would like to invite to dinner. They were brothers.  John Cottam and James Cottam. They both had their lives cut short in horrible accidents at work, one in England and one in Australia. 

James was my maternal Great Grandfather. They were sons of Joseph Cottam and Elizabeth Johnson and both boys were born in Warrington, Lancashire, England. James in 1829 and John in 1831 with Elizabeth dying shortly after the last childbirth.  Joseph married another Elizabeth (Smith) in 1837 and they had a daughter that year.

In 1852 James as a 23 year old, emigrated to Victoria Australia, and married Eliza Shanks a Northern Ireland girl from Co Down on 23 August 1860.  They had seven children, three girls, then three boys with the last being my Grandfather Joseph Cottam, then one more girl.

I have copies of two letters John wrote to James from England in 1856 and 1858 telling his brother about his job working in the railways.  He was missing his brother and looking forward to James coming back to England. John had married Rebecca Pashley in 1852, the daughter 'of the house' he was boarding in.  In one letter he told James of his two children. Altogether they had four boys and one girl.  John died 10 September 1860 due to a terribly tragic train shunting accident in the early morning at Nottingham Meadows, Nottinghamshire, England. He was only 29. (NB: This would have been only 18 days after James' wedding in Australia.)

I don't know when James heard the bad news, but I believe he would have been devastated as they were very close brothers. 


James was a farmer who also did some road cutting work for the local council around Lancefield.  In 1873 he was struck down by a boulder and soil from a cutting and suffered internal injuries, broken legs and paralysis. He was rushed to hopital in Melbourne where he died a week later. He had just turned 44 years old. His wife Eliza was pregnant and had her last baby (girl) a month later.
My heart goes out to these two brothers who suffered horrific deaths.  James never made it back to England.  

I would love for the two men to come together and share their stories, not just with me but with each other.

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REFERENCES:

James birth - Ancestry.com. 1829, Lancashire England Church of England Births & Baptisms, 1820 - 1829, Drl/2/541, Bishops Transcripts. No 952, Page 123.

John birth - Ancestry.com. 1831, Lancashire England Church of England Births & Baptisms, 1813 - 1911, Drl/2/541,Bishops Transcripts. No 1126, Page 141.

Joseph & Elizabeth Johnson Marr. - Ancestry.com. 1831, Lancashire England Church of England Marr. & Banns, 1754 - 1936, No 1274, Page 426.

Elizabeth (Johnson) death -  Burial Record, Church of St Oswald , Parish of Winwick, England,  Register1831-1833, Page 392, Entry 3128. Source: LDS Film 1885711.

Elizabeth (Smith) marriage  - Lancashire Online Parish Clerks: Register of Marriages 1833-1837, Page 116, Entry 347.  Source: LDS Film 1562962.

Mary Ann birth - Ancestry.com. Free BMD. England & Wales, Civil Registration Death Index, 1837-1915. 1909, Q1 - L.

James emigration - Date unknown, estimated from correspondence letters.

James marriage - Victoria, Australia, Certificate of Marriage.

Grandfather Joseph birth - Australian BDM Register, No 15588, Copy of Entry.

Two Letters:  John to brother James Cottam - Copies in my personal possession.

John marriage - Family Search.org.England and Wales marriage Reg. Index, 1837-2005. Q1 - 1852 Sheffield, Yorkshire, England; Vol9C, Page 338, Line 33.

John death - British Library Newspapers; Article: Nottinghamshire Guardian on line, Fatal accident on Midland Railway. 11 Oct. 1860.

James death - Digger Pioneer Index, Victoria, 1836 - 1888.  Death Entry No: 4795, Rec. 17.

James - newspaper reports - "Lancefield Examiner" May 01 and May 08, 1873, Victoria, Australia.

Agnes birth - Ancestry.com. Australian Birth Index 1788-1922. 1873 Darraweit Guim, Victoria, No: 8759.

#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 3 -Prompt: ‘Longevity'

 Week 3 -  ‘Longevity’

I have been trying to calculate who was the longest living direct ancestor in my tree, and of course, my efforts show me up, in that I still have some records to obtain to verify dates, etc.  

The one that caught my eye, however, was Charles Lewis, my 4^thGreat Grandfather on my mother’s side. First, it appeared that he had lived until he was 96 years old ! 

I thought out loud:  “what!  I didn’t think people lived that long then”

My notes said he was born in 1765 in Ross, Herefordshire, England and died around 1861-2, also in Ross.

So, I have been busy trying to establish his Birth, Death and Marriage dates – his vital records, or for that time period – his Baptism, Marriage, and Burial records.

I had his marriage record from the Newland parish register.  Charles and Benedicta BENNET were married on 02 Nov 1779 at Newland, Gloucestershire.  This was Benedicta’s home parish and Ruardean was Charles’ parish and where he resided. Both coming from the area known as ‘The Forest of Dean’.

 Ancestry.com: Map of Gloucestershire showing the parishes.

On another document, I found the parents of Benedicta listed as Thomas BENNET and Benedicta ROBERTS.  Unfortunately, I have not found any record of Charles’ parents. 

There are Land tax records for a few years up into the 1860’s with Charles renting land and a house at Ellicoe’s Calow pont. 

(Still trying to find out what that is). Sounds like a bridge.

A little under three months after their marriage they had their first baby – 

1.  Richard, baptized, 20 Feb 1780
2.  Benedicta baptized 04 Mar 1781
3.  Sarah, baptized 22 Dec 1782 in Welsh Bicknor, Herefordshire
4.  Thomas, baptized 26 Apr 1784.
The last three were baptized together in Welsh Bicknor Herefordshire
5.  Charlotte, 03 Aug 1790
6.  Mary Ann, 03 Aug 1790 – who was my ancestor.
7.  Jonathan, 03 Aug 1790.

I then found a document from the Family of Dean Family History Trust called ‘Gloucester Marriage Allegations 1747 -1837 and Marriage Bonds 1730 – 1802. It listed Charles and Benedicta’s Marriage and gave their ages as 23 and 24 respectively. Calculation brought Charles birth year to 1756 and Benedicta to 1755.  

Charles was a bachelor with the profession of a tallow chandler, and Benedicta a spinster.  Charles signed the document.

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MARRIAGE ALLEGATION Charles & Benedicta LEWIS

Gloucestershire Marriage Allegations 1747-1837

&Marriage Bonds 1730 – 1802 Transcript Details

Record_ID:                                    48034

Entry No.:                                             0

Year:                                                1779

Month:                                                Oct

Day:                                                    27

Groom_Surname:                        LEWIS

Groom_Forenames:                     Charles

Groom_Age_at_Marriage:                   23

Groom_Condition:                   Batchelor

    Groom_Rank/Profession: Tallow Chandler

Groom_Residence:                   Ruardean     

      

Bride_Surname:                   BENNETT

Bride_Forenames:                  Benedicta

Bride_Age_at_Marriage:                   24

Bride_Condition:                      Spinster

Bride_Rank/Profession:                        

Bride_Residence:                   Newland        

Marriage_by:                           Licence

Signature_or_Mark:               He signs

Witness_1:                                            

Witness_2:                                            

Other_Witnesses:                                  

Sealed and Delivered in the presence of:      

Event_type:          Marriage Allegation

Memoranda  Sworn before Jas Benson

      Transcriber's_Notes: To marry at Newland
Register_Reference:                 Q3/72

Page_no.:                                       16

Soundex_Groom:                      L200

Soundex_Bride:                        B530

 Reference: Forest of Dean Family History Trust

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Good grief – this means he is 10 years older than I was led to believe.  

So now it’s just finding proof of his year of death, which could be earlier, surely he didn’t live to be 100 or more.  No-one has ever mentioned a Methuselah in our family.

This is turning out to be no mean task.

I have a Death Index for Charles Lewis who died in Ross in 1862.  I will purchase the death record hoping it might hold a clue.  But that would make him 103, so its most likely not him.

Charles Lewis, Ross. Listed on England Death Index. Vol:6a, P. 325

Since then I have found an entry for a Charles baptism on 25 Feb 1756 with parents Charles and Sarah Lewis.  It is the only one I can find for that year. Funny thing is the Parish Curator had also written it out for 1757 – exact same wording.  I wonder if this is really my Charles?

Baptism of Charles Lewis, 25 Feb 1756, St Catherine, Gloucester.

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Information about Candle Making 

Reference: Wikipedia, accessed 10 Oct 2018

A person who makes candles is known as a chandler. Traditionally tallow chandlers operated separately from wax chandlers: beeswax candles customarily being used in churches and noble houses, while tallow (animal fat) candles were generally used in other homes.   The Worshipful Company of Tallow Chandlers is one of the ancient livery companies of the City of London and first received a Royal charter in 1462.  It not only engaged in tallow making but also in the trade of oils.  These livery companies comprised London's ancient and modern trade associations and arose from the medieval Guilds.  They played a significant part in City life, not least by providing charitable-giving and networking opportunities.  As is the case with most livery companies, the Tallow Chandlers' Company is no longer a trade association of candlemakers.  Its decline was precipitated by the advent of electric lighting.  The Tallow Chandler's Co.  now exists as a charitable institution and supports education in oil-related fields.

#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 2: 'Favourite Photo'

Week 2 Prompt:  'Favourite Photo'

Meet my Great Grandmother - Eleanor Wells who was born in 17 February 1840, in Speldhurst, Tunbridge Wells, Kent, England.  Her family Thomas Wells and Eleanor (Nee Fry) and siblings emigrated "on their own account' in 1853 on the "Ann Milne".  She married Arthur Samuel Palmer in Port Fairy (originally named Belfast), Victoria in June 1871. She was 58 years old when she died in Warragul, and is buried there.

Why have I chosen this photo from the many I have ?   Because this one is precious - I only received this photocopy a while back.  Before that I had no picture of her.  Another descendant kindly sent it to me.  I was so thrilled because if you look closely you can see the coloured stones brooch she has at her neck.  My mother gave me 1/2 of that brooch years ago.  She told me it had belonged to her Grandmother (Eleanor Wells) who gave it to her daughter Violet Maude Cottam (nee Palmer) and Violet eventually had it divided into 2 brooches to hand on to her 2 daughters - my Mum and her elder sister Eleanor Elizabeth Burkitt (nee Cottam).

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REFERENCES:
Birth of Eleanor Wells: Birthday Book Lilian Pearce (nee Cottam), my mother.
Emigration: Index to Assisted British Immigration 1839-1871, Ship 'Ann Milne', Passenger records.
Marriage: Australian BDM Register, Schedule D, No 24, Marriage Copy of Entry.
Death: Australian BDM Register, Schedule B, Victoria, Death Copy of Entry.

#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Week 1: 'Self '

In the Genealogy world, Amy Johnson Crow starting up a challenge to us all, of responding to weekly prompts by writing (or sharing in some way) about 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks.  I had been tempted to participate but life was busy.  A few weeks late, but now I'm ready.  I believe in her worthwhile aims of sharing the information found about our ancestors.  Amy says:

       "The point is to get you to take that knowledge that you have and the discoveries that you've made and get them out of the filing cabinet/computer/pile of papers and do something with it. How you share it is up to you."

So here goes:
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Week 1 Prompt:   'Self'

Not an easy subject to write about - one's self.  Think I will just put down some memories that I have now before my 71 year old brain forgets them all.

I am sitting on something freezing and my bottom is getting colder and colder.  I am alone.  

This I think is my earliest memory - tho' the rest of my family have said I think I remember it because Mum has told the tale so many times. We lived in town, Shepparton at the time:

"You ran off when my back was turned - I was changing your nappy when Mr Diamond came in the door.  Next thing I know you're missing.  We searched the house, but you were nowhere to be found. I started to panic - calling out your name I raced outside and then up the street.  Mr Diamond went home next door to check. There you were - only two years old sitting on the concrete step of the closed corner shop, three doors down the street - with just your bare bottom!'

So I wonder now - will my memories be fact, my truth or fiction ? I can't say, but I will give my perspective as I believe to be true on my history regardless of all the changes in re-telling over the years and the time distance from the fact. 

My next memories are out on the orchard at Grahamvale. Pre-school days so I would have been 3-4 years old.  We have this beautiful big golden and white Collie dog called "Lassie" and she lets me ride her around the yard.  She takes me up to the gate (a channel bridge actually) about 200 yards to meet my older brother and sister in the afternoons when they return from school.  They hop off their bikes and we all walk home together along our dusty road next to the irrigation channel.  When it is too hot and dry, we wade through the water cooling off and squeezing the mud between our toes like happy little piglets. Always watching out for snakes, though.

Remembering now what it was like as a child - I recognise that we had a good childhood living in the coutry, on the orchard, with our pets - dogs, cats, kittens, hens and chickens.  We were in the main, healthy and carefree.  School was a rideable distance from home, travelling as a posse with kids from different families turning off to their own homes along the way.  We were the last ones on our road. We would call in at Peterson's to check the mail and carry it home in our bike baskets. At the right time we would join the Opie's (1/2 way home) up their loquat and walnut trees in bliss eating our hearts out.

So many things are coming to mind - I will just list them for a bit.

Picking fruit, bottling fruit with visiting relatives. Mum giving us a spoon of the sweet liquid. Stencilling the boxes for tomatoes, using old tomatoes in the black ink.  Seasonal workers staying in the spare house.  Albanians, Macedonians, Italians, Greeks.  We loved it - they gave us postage stamps from their home countries for our collections.
Drying apricots out in the sun, stored in sacks. - our home treat.

Going up the paddocks in the evening to find Dad for his dinner. Looking for his cigarette glow as a guide. He kept his leather baccy pouch on the tankstand and a couple of loose made cigarettes in his pockets.  Then Dad being very sick and being ambulanced to hospital with double pneumonia.  We were warned that he might die.  After that - no more cigarettes, instead he sucked peppermint lifesavers. He always held the lifesaver up and blew through the hole before sucking it - as they would gather old tobacco strands in them from the bottom of his workclothes pockets.                              

I remember the little black van that called at the farms with goods for Mum to buy. We loved to poke our heads in and smell the aromas of soaps and unknown things. So many shelves of goodies and goods.

Getting the milk from Van Asperen's over the road. A Dutch family who migrated and worked Hopkin's dairy farm.  We would take our billy over and have it filled with creamy milk. Brother Bill would swing the billy around in circles over his head without spilling it. Bill had his own little hut near the Fruit packing shed and spent a lot of time in there when younger playing with his meccano set and when older - his Crystal Set. We girls had a cubby house down the side of the packing shed in a little room, we used to save the little circles from the Marie biscuits and hide them there in case we got hungry. Once my sister Frances and a visiting cousin tried to sell lambs to passers by. However they weren't ours they were from the flock next door at Mr Jock Robinson's. Dad took her over to apologise. Luckily they hadn't sold any.

We had lots of books - they were for Birthdays or Christmas (or Cup, saucer and plate for our Glory box). We all loved reading and spent much of our time with our heads in books. We played Hopscotch called hoppy, skipping, marbles, or tennis practice with a ball on rubber attached to an old iron base. also hidie, and swung hoops around our waists, climbed trees, and dressed our kittens in doll's clothes and wheeled them around in old dolls prams. We swam in the big irrigation channel and turned leaches inside out on the barbed wire fence.  We collected swap cards and swapped at school. We had roller skates that clipped on over our lace-up shoes and zoomed around on the path and verandah.  Most of the time though we were bare feet, which were very hardened from the peach and apricot kernels scattered on our road like gravel.

Dad had some lovely old draught horses who helped with the heavy work and ploughing  and dragging boxes back to the shed.  When the sled was empty we hopped on for a ride.  They would get their hessian nose bags filled behind the shed, under the peppercorn trees. Jean was Dad's 'workman' - a wonderful female worker, who also fixed our bikes and mended the punctures till we were old enough to do them ourselves. She always wore overalls and her hair tied up in scarf.  It was a big shock to us when she announced she was marrying.

Isobel my cousin and her husband Hunter with their baby Barbara came to live in the small house on our place. One day Mum and I found our dairy cow stuck in the mud in the irrigation channel near Isobel's. The cow was making a terrible noise moaning, the three of us got covered in mud but we did eventually pull her out.  When my siblings had left home, one day I arrived home from school and couldn't find Mum. Outside I found her unconscious at the wood heap. She had been using a steel chock to split wood and a piece of steel had flown off and embedded in her leg. A big scare for me - I thought she was dead.  Luckily she came to, just after I found her. 

Grandma Cottam (Mum's mother) died just 10 days before I was born so sadly I never knew her.  She died kneeling by her bed saying her prayers. They were living with us in Shepparton then and Grandpa Cottam lived with us in Grahamvale on the orchard. He used to sit on our verandah in the cane chair and let us comb and brush his snowy white hair. A lovely memory I still have.
The family listened to the old bakelite radio. Smokey Dawson and at 2 minutes past 1 everything stopped and was silent for the adults to listen to Blue Hills. The same for the 6 o'clock news.  We could play cards on any day/evening but not Sunday. We also played Monopoly, and being the youngest and often losing, I learned to hide some of my money under the big table on the ridge, so the others would think I wasn't doing so well.

Sundays we dressed in our best clothes and the girls in berets with a brooch on the front. We attended Sunday School at Scot's Church in town and some days would go out to Orrvale to the Pearce family's church out there. Aunt Tib or Aunt Ray played the organ there. Other times we went to the evening service back in town as well.  We had wonderful Sunday School picnics with fairy bread and Ice cream.

Sometime, I think at Easter, all the Pearce relatives had a day's picnic at Keady's Bridge over near Euroa. Most of the time was spent in the creek.  Christmas, we shared at the original Orrvale orchard with all the Pearce families.  Coloured lights sparkled in the evening in the old Oak tree Grandma Pearce brought out from the 'home country'.  This was the settlement where Grandfather and Grandmother Pearce and the little Pearces (including my Dad who was 8 years old) emigrated to, from Scotland in 1912.

"The Reflections of Maria Graham": FICTION based on GENEALOGICAL FACT. Narrative.

              

Looking into the water of the Macquarie River, as I wander along the reedy bank, my reflection stares back at me.  I see a thin old lady dressed in white. My mind takes flight away from this town of Ross … back to Hobart when I first left the Female Prison with my mother in 1853.

Five years old is all I was when mother grabbed me up and twirled me around, exclaiming: “Free at last”.

We danced down the road to my new father David who was there to take us home.  David and mother had married a month ago when she was on leave.  But this was my first time out in the world.  I couldn’t speak I was so anxious yet jittery with excitement.

I was born in the ‘Female Factory’ in Hobart in 1848 and that was my home.  A rough and cruel place - where many babies died.   Mother always said I was blessed and that’s how we survived.

Mother had another baby when I was two but they took her away and never brought her back.  I believe she died.  No-one ever spoke of her again.

For one year we lived in the old part of Hobart Town known as Wapping. There were lots of ex-convicts and sailors living there close to the bustling markets and wharf. 

Then we moved to the east coast of Tasmania.  Oh how I loved the clean wild air, the grassy green paddocks and the beautiful blue sea.  We could see the large ships, traders and fishing boats passing by.

My father David was very good to me and I think loved me as his own.  I was never brave enough to ask mother who my real father was – it was a taboo subject.  I always believed it was David though.  He was a good provider for us and for my new little brother and sisters.  He worked as a gaoler at our local Swansea prison.  Funny how things turn out, him having been a convict himself.

It’s the convict carvings on the sides of the bridge that I want to see.  I must be careful on the bank here.  The edges are slippery and I feel my shoes sinking a little in the mud from the recent rains.  I follow the ducks, holding my dress up to keep it clean.

Now where was I ?   Ah yes, Swansea - that’s where I met William J.  How I loved him.  I was eighteen when we married in 1866 and soon after had our little girl Sophia.  It was a hard time for me.  I struggled with nerves whilst ‘with child’ as I recalled the screams of the mothers and the deaths of the babies at the ‘Factory’.  But I was lucky I had William J fussing around.  Like me, my baby Sophia was blessed too.

A year later though William J went down with the fever.  I prayed he would survive but my prayers were not answered.  My darling died that year.  My heart was broken. I missed him so much and didn’t know how we would cope. I have never cried as much as I did when I lost my first William.

But time did move on, as people say, and things did change.

I met my second William, a real gentleman - He loved me dearly and promised to look after me forever.  Mother was concerned as he was more than thirty years older than me, but I felt so cherished I knew he would make a good husband and father.

Poor William had been through a lot himself and knew what sorrow was. He told me he had been married twice before and both marriages ended sadly. Before he came out to Van Diemen’s Land his first wife Jane had died with childbirth fever.  Just a few weeks after giving birth to their only child, young Will. 

Like many villagers in England William struggled.  Things went badly for him when his father-in-law, Jane’s father, accused William of stealing a bale of wool.  William claimed it was for money owed to him from when he and Jane married.  You wouldn’t really think that family would do that to you. 

But he was convicted and got seven years in Van Diemen’s Land.  He hated leaving his young son William behind with his Grandmother (William’s mother).

William was then a convict just like my mother. 

After serving his time and getting his conditional pardon, William paid for his son Will, to leave England and come out to Tasmania. Young Will was a strong lad for thirteen years and worked hard helping his father. 

With eighty pounds borrowed from his cousin in Swansea, William built a big stone house.  He resumed his trade as a shoemaker, running the business from home.  There were always plenty of boots and shoes to mend for the other settlers.  Over the years William taught Will the cobbler’s trade too.

William’s married his second wife, Christiana. They lost their first baby daughter and then Christiana died in childbirth with their next one.

In the meanwhile his cousin had foreclosed on him and William and Will were now homeless and penniless.  Poor William thought he was cursed for life.  He was banished from Hobart after being found drunk and disorderly.  Trying to 'drown his sorrows', he told me.

He returned permanently this time to Swansea and acquired a little land further out of town, enough to build a small stone cottage and put in some fruit trees.

I always said it was grief and sorrow that brought us together, when we met and William courted me.  We married two weeks before my twentieth birthday on 15^th October 1868 at William’s house with our children present.  My Sophia was two and Will, seventeen.

William and I had seven more children – Tam, Selina, Susan and then Eric.  Poor little Eric died tragically, before he turned three. He climbed the picket fence and became stuck.  None of us knew till it was too late.  I blamed myself … I should have been watching him.  I was very pregnant with Ruth at the time and she was born shortly after. Then came Frank and lastly Gladys.

They were mainly happy years with the children.  I loved the evenings when I could do my needlework and listen to William reading and reciting ‘Robbie Burns’ poems to the children. 

Of course, all of them now grown up, married and with their own children.

Mother and father were a great help over the years.  I wasn’t ready for it when mother died.  Eighty-two years old she was. She lived a longer life than she ever thought possible.  We shared a special bond from our early life in the ‘Factory’ in Hobart.

It was 1900 when William became ill.  Nothing seemed to help him.  I was grief-stricken when he died that year, five years after mother.  Thirty-two years together we had.  I missed him terribly.  In anguish I buried him with our little boy Eric in the Swansea Cemetery.

Another five years passed and father died … the last of the old family … so many memories.

Now, I have reached the Ross Bridge and I look down from the stairs to see the fanciful carvings.  The water is churning.

  

No reflection there - the thin old lady has gone.

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Daily Telegraph (Launceston), Tuesday 17 January 1922, p.5

FOUND DROWNED

Inquest at Ross

…The Coroner’s finding was that Maria Jane Graham met her death by drowning, but the evidence did not disclose whether by her own act or accidental.

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