History of Lorna Tremayne  and Edmund Grant

by Gwenyth C. Noble (nee Grant) -

with additions by Lorna Harris and Ed Grant's writings

made May 15, 2009 and January 22 ff, 2023 and Dec. 4, 2024

 

Lorna Anne Emily Tremayne was born on June 6, 1887. The only girl in a family of four children, her parents were Agnes Pearson Ritchie Tremayne and Francis Geddes (F. G.) Tremayne.  Canon William Ritchie and Anne Sibbald (daughter of Susan Sibbald) were her mother Agnes’s parents. Lorna’s paternal grandfather was Rev. Francis Tremayne who married Emily Jane Kelly Geddes. 

F.G. Tremayne was a pharmacist and the family lived at Dryden Bank (40 River Rd., Sutton West, Ontario).  He had stores in Sutton and Keswick, and the family spent summer time at Sibbald’s Point.  Lorna was educated in Toronto at Ryerson Technical School in sewing patterns and designing clothes.  She lived on Chicora Ave. during that time.  (Gwen lived on the same street at number 17 from 1942 to 1946).  Lorna and her brothers saw the first Eaton’s Santa Clause parade at Hogg’s Hollow about 1912. 

Her parents wanted Lorna to marry her cousin, Charles Sibbald (?), who was considerably older than she was. However, she met Edmund Grant at St. James Church in Sutton when they were both about 20 years of age.  Ed had come to the Sutton West area from Wales when he was 17 years of age (in March 1906).

 

Sutton West, Ontario: Grand Trunk RR Station 1906

Edmund Graff Nichols Grant was born April 28^th 1887 just outside Cardiff in Llantrisant Wales (at 1 Brook St.), the last of 13 children born to Duncan Joseph Grant (1835-1916), and Margaret Jones (1842-1896).  

Duncan Joseph Grant

Children of Duncan Grant and Margaret Jones c. 1888

 

Margaret Jones

Nicholls was a family name being his paternal grandmother’s surname (Caroline M. Nicholls 1796-1883, who was married to John Grant 1797 -1848). Graff or Graf was apparently the name of a family friend. It does not appear in the family tree anywhere. In a letter to Gwenyth Noble, Ed’s brother Jim said he looked high and low for a connection even to phoning all the Grafs and Graffs in the Calgary phone book at the time (c. 1977) and concluded the name was German and that was all he was able to conclude. For that matter, Edmund is not a family name in the tree  so where it came from is a bit of a mystery too, but it is a Welsh name… so maybe from the Jones family?

 Ed’s father, born in Cawdor/Nairn Scotland, had a photography shop in Builth, Wales before Ed was born.

 When he was six years old, Ed’s mother Margaret died of scarlet fever (August 1896).  His father remarried (in 1897 to Sarah Ann Davies 1861-1909). Their daughter Nona Victoria was born in 1897 and died in 1906. 

Edmund Grant as a boy in Wales, photo likely by his father

According to Gwenyth, Ed’s father  couldn’t cope and he went to live with his daughter Louise Heard.  Ed, who had been living his father and his second wife, had been sent to live with his Aunt Jessica Escott (her husband Jim was a school teacher and a rather “rough man”).  His sisters Caroline (a nurse) and Margaret (a seamstress), who were both employed, paid for his education.  He studied Greek and Latin and was headed toward an academic career. In his reminiscences for the family, Ed Grant writes, “I attended Albany Rd.. Board School and Howard Gardens Higher Grade School. I served three years with the firm of A.& Y. Taylor, Duke St., Cardiff, S. Wales and learned the photographic and picture framing business.”

 He was interested in the Church of England while in Wales and often told Gwenyth he attended that service “rather than going to chapel.”

 When he emigrated to Canada, he made the crossing by second class in March 1906 aboard The Lake Manitoba. It took 12 days. He told his daughter Gwen he had water up to his knees most of the time.  Years before, when he had told his sister Margaret about that, she was very concerned she had not paid for a first-class cabin.  There were about 100 other men in the hold; he spent most of this time on deck even though it was chilly. Lots of the passengers were sea-sick but he wasn’t. They landed at St. John, New Brunswick and he took the train to Toronto and then the Grand Trunk Train to Sutton.

The Lake Manitoba

He worked on a farmed owned by a Mr. John. Kay at the recommendation of a friend in Cardiff. It was in Virginia, south of Sutton West. He stayed there for two years then went to the Macdonald farm less than a mile from Sutton.  He was young energetic and always busy, as they worked very long days.

Ed got to know the rector of the Anglican church and was invited to sing in the choir. There he met Lorna Tremayne and they soon became “fast friends.”

 Lorna’s father, F.G. Tremayne, said Ed could marry Lorna when he had $1,000 in the bank and a down-payment on a house.  This he accomplished over three years (1910-1013) in Calgary, Alberta.  Ed had older brothers in Calgary: Jim, Alex and Donald.  They owned a photography shop.  Lorna and he were finally married on May 14, 1913 in Sutton West. at St. James Church. Her grandfather Rev. Canon Francis Tremayne officiated and her Uncle Herbert Tremayne assisted.

Wedding Day May 14, 1913

They then moved to Calgary.  Due to WWI, business was poor once men went to war, but Ed always found a job. Ed was not accepted into the armed forces because of varicose veins in his legs — these he had all of his life and were about the size of one’s thumb. 

 As there was so little business in the photo shop, Ed and Lorna decided to be homesteaders near Airdre and built their own log cabin and tilled some land with the help of Grace, their work horse.  They used wood or coal for fuel, the latter gathered from an old surface mine nearby in Davenport.  Ed had owned a Harley motorbike with a side-car, but he sold it prior to homesteading.

 

Davenport Alberta 1913: The motorbike is not in the picture!

Lorna lost her first baby in 1914. Their second, Agnes, was delivered by an RCMP officer on March 2, 1915. 

Lorna Tremayne Grant with Agnes Margaret Grant in Calgary 1915

On January 18, 1917, Francis Duncan was born. By this time, although they had some good neighbours in Airdre, they were too isolated and gave up homesteading and lived in a comfortable house in Calgary where Ed drove a milk truck.  There are pictures of the house(s) in the photo album, taken years later about 1960.  Lorna’s parents came to visit once together, and her father came at least twice. 

 

Grandpa Tremayne with Lorna Grant, Francis, Gwenyth and Agnes (Bow River, Calgary c.1920) 

Then calls for help came from Lorna’s parents.  Lorna had done all the care and housekeeping while she waited to marry Ed, and her parents were not used to being with a paid housekeeper – these latter were very poor workers.  Lorna came back twice to help when her mother was not well, bringing first one, then two children with her.  She and Ed returned for her mother’s funeral in 1917 (she is buried in Sutton).  They left all their belongings in the homestead.  Nothing was ever disturbed although travellers used the shelter, as was the custom.  The strangers always replenished the fuel and the water.

 As Lorna had stayed behind to help her father, Ed’s and her third child, Gwenyth, was born in Sutton on October 23, 1918.  Lorna and the three children could not get seats on the train due to the demobilization of the armed forces after WWI ended.  Finally, in the spring of 1919, she returned with Agnes, (four years), Frances (two years) ands Gwenyth (about six months). 

 From her husband's (Rev. Edmund Grant) reminiscences written in 1966, "The government appeared apathetic to the needs of the returning veteran. There was much unrest in various places in the country. When Mum [sic i.e., his wife Lorna] passed through Winnipeg, Hugh Lyall (cousin of Lorna) met her at the train, but things were so unsettled, that police were swarming all over the R.R, station. and no one was allowed to enter it. It was threatened to be blown up. The train did not wait long but continued its journey West."   (Winnipeg General Strike – May 15 to June 25. 1919). 

The little family departed amid huge crowds.  Agnes remembered her mother saying “You and Frances hold my skirt and I will carry the baby and the suitcase.”  The men in charge said, “Make way for the women and children,” at the top of their voices, so Agnes remembered.  Finally safe in Calgary, Gwenyth and her father met for the first time.

The fourth trip back to Ontario in 1922 proved to be a permanent move from Calgary.   By this time there were four children, Geddes Llewelyn having been born in 1920. Four trips east had taken a toll on their savings, but they did have enough wherewithal to travel first class.   I believe on this trip, they took a steamer through the Great Lakes. One of the children fell on the deck and hurt himself and Mum remembers a crew member mopping up the blood – nose bleed?

Lorna took over housekeeping for her father and she and Ed worked at his pharmacy.  Ed took training in theology from Rev. Mr. Bouskill in preparation for entering Trinity College for formal theological training at the University of Toronto.  The three older children attended school in Sutton and church at St. James. Gwenyth remembers it as a nice time.  In 1924, the school burned down. Gwenyth attended the empty ice cream parlour for classes and sat at a little iron table and chairs.  Agnes and Francis were in the church hall.

 Lorna’s brother Maurice returned from the war, went back to high school (he had gone out west at age 13 or 14 and had left school) and then undertook pharmacy studies at University of Toronto. Once he graduated, he married May Chalmers in 1925 in a quiet wedding at her grandmother’s home in Toronto. May’s husband was a miller originally from Prince Edward Island. Maurice and his new wife took over Dryden Bank, as he had been left it in his mother’s will.  He went into the business with his dad, and then took it over on his own after his father died in January 1925. Maurice and May had one son Frank and two daughters, Beth and Anne.

Lorna’s brother John attended the Engineering Faculty at University of Toronto. Another brother, Francis Ritchie Tremayne,  had died at age 16 of pernicious anemia. 

Lorna Tremayne with brothers Francis, John, and Maurice in Sutton West

Ed and Lorna moved to Toronto where they took over a large rooming house at 43 Avenue Rd. for one year.  Then they moved to 30 Tranby Ave., while Ed completed his theology degree at U. of T. (The house sold in 2007 for $850,000!)  According to his daughter Gwen, he had a splendid voice, won the music prize and also the prize for Greek studies.  (Lorna was also musical; she played the violin and later taught music to church choir members). The children attended Jesse Ketchum P.S., where Mr. Kirk was the principal. Edmund Ogilvie, the youngest child, was born in 1926. 

 Ed graduated in 1929, having been Deacon at St. John’s Garrison church in Toronto.  He also conducted some services at St. Hilda’s church in the Toronto suburb of Fairbank (now the busy corner of Eglinton and Dufferin). In addition, to supplement his income after his first year at university, he pumped gas.  In the summer months in subsequent school years, he and the family were sent to parishes in Flinton, Ontario (1927) and Parham (1928). 

 

Grant children at Westport 1929 (L to R Geddes, Gwenyth, Frances, and Agnes with Ogilvie in front)

In 1929, after he was priested by Bishop Seager, the family moved to Westport and Ed had the church there and in Bedford Mills (in the Diocese of Ontario).  The town of Westport was very pretty – about 35 miles from Kingston – on the Rideau Lake and on Sand Lake on the west end – very good for swimming.  The family had a great outdoor life, vegetable garden in the summer, some meals from parishioners in lieu of funds, as the depression was very severe. Lorna’s brother John and family came to visit, as did Maurice’s.

 (Interestingly, Gwenyth’s granddad the Rev. Francis Tremayne was at Bedford Mills years before where he worked as a bookkeeper as he was too young to be priested; he eventually owned 60 acres of land near Charleston Lake where many years later at Athens, Gwenyth’s youngest bother, Edmund Ogilvie lived.) 

 Lorna and Ed saw a lot of her brother John, his wife Isobel, and their three children: John (called Peter??), Agnes, and Bill.  Lorna had birthday parties for them, and Uncle John would bring ice cream. After a summer visit in 1928; several of the cousins went back to Toronto whereupon young John came down with polio and died. My mum recorded his date of death (Sept.2, 1930, just a couple of months before his eighth birthday) among other items on a very scribbled sheet of paper. After it she wrote POLIO. It must have been a huge shock to her as a 12-year-old and to the rest of the family. There is a possibility she came down with polio as well as Agnes. Mum remembers having to be carried up and down stairs for a few weeks as she couldn’t walk. Later in life she suffered the symptoms of post-polio syndrome.

 Uncle John was unemployed for about three years during the depression, as there were few engineering jobs.  He broke his heel bone at a job in Windsor.  However, fortunately, he continued to have sufficient funds during this time and lived with his family at 82 Walker Street in Toronto.

 In about 1932, Ed was moved to Roslin where the family stayed 11 months, then Bancroft for five years, where the older children went to continuation school by correspondence and wrote the department of education exams in Belleville.  In 1937 the family moved to Wellington, which had a high school. The bishop frequently moved Ed because he had a reputation for being able to build up parishes.  He never took a holiday.

The children all had a good education.  Agnes had her high school diploma and her ATCM accreditation form the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto.  Francis had a diploma as a wireless operator and served in the Merchant Navy in WWII, as his health would not allow him into the regular navy. Geddes took tool and die training at Harbord Collegiate in Toronto and then went into the Air Force.  Ogilvie enlisted in the Air Force in 1944.  Gwenyth became a Registered Nurse and took a post-grad in Obstetrics, as well as receiving her bachelor’s degree in nursing from the University of Toronto Faculty of Nursing, specializing in public health nursing. She worked at Prince Edward County Hospital in Picton, Ottawa Civic Hospital, Women’s College Hospital and the VON in Toronto.  Later, beginning in 1960, she worked at St. Joseph’s Hospital in London, Ontario and for the City of London department of public health.

Gwenyth recalls, “We had a great life.  We had nothing much given of a material nature, but we had caring parents and a wonderful education.”

Bancroft: the five Grant children

March 9, 1930 Westport: Gwenyth snowshoes

 Photo by Jean Prescott

Ed and Lorna lived in Wellington for 10 years and Ed spent his final years as a priest in Maitland, where he and Lorna eventually retired for 20 years to a cosy home they had built there. Their bungalow was comfortable, and Lorna loved the garden.  They enjoyed going across the border to Watertown, U.S.A. once or twice a year.  Frances and family and Agnes and family were in Ottawa, and Geddes and family were near Prescott. Gwenyth and family were in London and Ogilvie (Ed), in Toronto.

Tyn-y-Maes Maitland, Ontario

50th wedding anniversary Maitland

Their children and grandchildren visited them frequently; Edmund and Lorna also had many friends.  Lorna suffered diabetes after age 76, but it was controlled by insulin.   She lived to be 89 years of age.  

Ed suffered memory loss due to senile dementia and lived for two years at the Island Park Lodge in Ottawa.  He died at age 92.  Ed was an energetic, cheerful, unselfish kind man.  He was well liked by all his friends and congregations.  He and Lorna worked tirelessly for the church. Lorna organized concerts and pantomimes in which the children performed.

Crossing the Atlantic in 1906

I was going through some of my mother's papers the other day and came across several sheets of three-ring binder paper, my grandad had used to write about his life in Canada including  this story about how he arrived here. His own words, written post-retirement in 1971, cleared up a puzzle I had been trying to figure out: which ship he came on. 

The Rev. Canon Edmund Graff Nicholls Grant  was born on April 28^th, 1887. He died in January1979.  This little excerpt is taken from what he called  Reminiscences 1906 -1964.

He left by train from Cardiff to catch the ship in Liverpool. Quite an adventure for a 17-year-old.

Grandad Grant's voyage away from home in Wales to a new life in Canada:

It was a wet and rather depressing morning in the middle of March 1906 when I boarded the train which was to take me to Liverpool. A couple of brothers and a sister saw me off, on that, which to me was a memorable night, at the age of almost 18 years.

The next day I found the vessel, a CPR ship, called "Lake Manitoba" which was to take me across the Atlantic.

The Lake Manitoba [Source:http://www.norwayheritage.com/p_ship.asp?sh=lamam]

After getting on board, I was shown to my "stateroom," which was the hold of the ship and which the portholes were on a level with the ocean. As far as I can remember, there were about 100 men in this hold, which is a cavity in a ship below deck. We slept and had meals in the hold.

I spent the greater part of my time on deck, although it was chilly. The journey took 12 days, weather at times pretty rough, & 1 day (24 hours) we only made 50 miles. I was not sea-sick at all, but lots of passengers were. We landed at St. John NB on a cool and frosty morning where I took the train for Toronto. I stayed for a day in that city and took the train for Sutton, via the Grand Trunk RR.

Sutton Railway Station in 1906 http://www.trha.ca/trha/history/stations-2/sutton-station/

The Testaments: a clamour of voices, a muted dystopia

 Just finished reading The Testaments; it’s a page-turner I devoured over the last three days or so.

Structurally it is very clever, especially with the ambiguity introduced after all the journal entries, by the addition of the Symposium at the end. 

The language is Atwood in high gear:  sardonic, witty, morbidly funny, and echoing with mischievous literary, biblical, and mythic allusions.  

But the characters are somewhat flat and seem under-developed if not stereotyped and hence, less important than the plot: much like dystopic Gilead itself, subordinating people to ideology. This might be a clever conceit if Atwood meant it that way. But making the characters secondary to the action does not invite closeness to them. I observed them, but I didn’t wholly connect.

The ending seems happy — a wishy-washy version of secular humanism may prevail; however, I wish Atwood had fully grasped the thistle of evil.  The multi-faceted journal format is a recollection of events, mediated only by characters who are reactive, not especially reflective.  The horrific events they describe are certainly objectively repugnant (lots of frissons), but the evil is subjectively dulled. Mind you, I do wonder about some of the comments in the Symposium chapter at the end.

Overall, the novel reminds me of some young-adult fiction — lots of action, weaker character development, and an under-explored moral universe. Atwood is a master of genres, maybe it was the turn of young-adult fiction?? 

In any event, it surprising that this novel is not deeper, for want of a better word. 

It will be interesting to hear what goes on at the interview on October 4^th.  Has anyone else read it? What do you think?

Three stars (out of four). 

Our last days in Scotland then home again

Monday September 19th and Tuesday the  20th

Back to Tweedbank by bus, then by train to Edinburgh, then on to Glasgow:  all smooth. [I really can't say enough great things about the train and bus systems in Scotland.]

Once in Glasgow we found road construction all around the train station. We walked uphill [of course] and eventually (despite or because of directions from various people), we found the Buchanan Bus Station.

The airport bus was there waiting. The driver said we should have had our dual return ticket stamped when we arrived, but he let us on anyway, thank goodness. We had the remains of the previous ticket but not the one to return.  

At the Glasgow airport, there was a lot of road construction and not one, but two, Holiday Inns. The easy one to reach was just across the street from the bus stop. It wasn't ours...We found this out trying to check in and finding no reservation. 

Our hotel was the Holiday Inn Express which we could see but could not get to because of the barricades and the total lack of adequate signage. It was an Alice through the Looking Glass experience. We finally gave up and cut through a parking garage.

Easy when you know how!

Nice room: red and grey, refurbished recently. 

Source: Holiday Inn Express

The bathroom had a grab bar in the shower [the only one in any of our accommodations in the whole trip]. The door to the bathroom also closed the toilet area, which I though was very clever design.

Nice not to have to grab the scalding hot water faucet ...

We went back to the airport to familiarize ourselves with its layout. We had a late lunch at a pub restaurant. I had chili and rice, which was surprisingly good as it spiced up more than usual. I also had a light beer! So far no serious bowel repercussions.

Then we went to the Tesco store and got a banana, an orange, some Babybels,"oaty" biscuits, and mixed nuts and cranberries for a dinner time snack.

Back to the hotel, checked the email:  the WiFi worked!! 

To bed at 10:23 pm, still awake at 11:30, woke up at 5:00 am, got up at 5:31. 

***

Tuesday September 20, 2017

Checked out of our hotel after a light breakfast (way too many calories yesterday). We followed the crowd back to the terminal: took a long way around, but it was apparently the intended route.

Checked in at the airport: all went smoothly. Now we are sitting in the departure lounge. We don't sit by the gate we leave by. The gate number pops up on a screen in the general lounge just before boarding time ,and then we head to where we board.

A six-hour and 13-minute flight awaits. Glad I had the banana for breakfast. The potassium may help my twitchy legs.  

It will be light out, so I will read Dr. Thorne. We have seats together at the exit seats.

***

To the best of my recollection writing today eight months later, the flight went well. I received my pre-ordered Thai chicken wrap, which was tasty. I don't know why more people don't do this.

I enjoyed my book and even more, the fact I was finally feeling better!

We were early approaching Nova Scotia. However, when we got to Halifax, there was so much fog we couldn't see anything, and landing seemed problematic. In any event, the pilot came on the loud speaker and said we would be circling the airport to try a different approach. He added that we had plenty of fuel, something I hadn't actually considered until that precise moment. We eventually landed in fog like cotton batten. I saw the runway speeding below us about three seconds before we landed on it.

Customs was no problem and the shuttle to the parking lot was waiting; we were the only ones on it. Our driver fulminated over the American election and praised Donald Trump. I wonder how he feels about him now (likely the same). We found our car exactly as we had left it and headed for the ferry at Caribou.

No reservations needed this time.

It was nice to see the Canadian flag on the mast of the ferry and truly feel we were home again.

Here are some shots  I took of the harbour at Caribou while we waited to "sail" across to PEI:

The  lobster boats are ready for the fall lobster season.

After the crossing, we headed to Montague and a comfort-food supper at Pizza Delight. It still seems amazing to me that you can eat breakfast in Glasgow and  have dinner in North America. We were glad to be home, but over the ensuing months, I feel sorry that we can't just hop in the car and go back to the Orkneys, revisit Nairn, or go on another walk around the Eildon hills.  It was in retrospect (and now with completely normally functioning innards) a wonderful trip.

Family history unfolds at the Eildon Hills

Sunday Sept. 18, 2016 

We had breakfast with several serious hikers, the kind who don't wear their boots in the dining room but have only their heavy socks on their feet. Our host nodded to the out-of-doors and pronounced it "a dry day." In Scotland this means it was not actively raining. I wore my rain pants for the first time during the trip, as I thought we might encounter wet grass and muddy paths on our hike to find Eildon Hall.

I had been curious about this house for many years. My maternal grandmother's family came to Canada in the 1830s, and our ancient matriarch Susan Sibbald lived in a house by Lake Simcoe, which she called Eildon Hall after her father's home in Scotland.

My fourth great-grandfather had work begun on Eildon Hall in the spring of 1802. According to his daughter Susan, he located it "on a spot where as a schoolboy he said he should like to build a house on account of the magnificent view, which was open to the Cheviot Hills 6 miles off (Memoirs of Susan Sibbald, p. 210).

This is what the house looked like in 1804, apparently, according to the list of illustrations in the Memoirs. 

It has undergone changes in ownership and renovations over the years since and has been owned by the Dukes of Buccleuch since about 1860. This is what it looks like now, although not on the day we went, which was very overcast. Also we approached it from the north side, through the fir trees behind it to the right in the photo:

Eildon Hall as it is today looking north
Source: http://newtowneildon.weebly.com/eildon-village.html

After walking out of Melrose and following a footpath south off Dingleton Road and across the Malthouse Burn, we found the main hiking trail to the easternmost peak of the three Eildon Hills. My journal continues: 

We climbed straight up 140 steps, resting every 10 steps, and being passed by other fitter walkers and hikers...spectacular views of the Tweed Valley, hills and Melrose Abbey.

You can see Melrose Abbey in the mist in the left corner of the picture.

Rather muddy at times, but very fresh air, just what I like: a hike in the outdoors. 

The village of Melrose is in the Tweed Valley.

We didn't go to the top of Eildon Hill as that would have taken much more time and over 1300 feet of climbing: too much for our elderly out-of-shape selves. Still the view from about halfway up was impressive. 

We took something of a wrong turn at a critical juncture and found ourselves on a paved road, near what turned out to be the monument to the Eildon Tree, immortalized by Thomas the Rhymer.

He was a 13th century poet and prophet whose poems were popularized by Sir Walter Scott in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border published in 1802, the same year as work began on the Hall.

"At Eildon tree if yon shall be
a brig ower Tweed, yon there may see"
Thomas the Rhymer

Sir Walter Scott identified this location near the foot of the Eildon Hills as the site of the ancient tree because three bridges over the Tweed  were visible from this vantage point. (Source: wikipedia.)

Susan Sibbald was familiar with the legendary poet and perhaps Sir Walter Scott's pronouncements about the famous tree. In any event, in her memoirs, she says to her son, "you must remember, Hugh, to have read another of Thomas  the Rhymer's predictions ... 'betide befa' whate'er betide, Haig sal be Haig of Bemersyde'."  

This one concerned a local ancestral home and predicted dire consequences if the last laird died without issue. The last (20th) direct descendant of the first lord died childless in 1854. Just as his coffin was being lowered into the grave, a tremendous thunder storm broke out, accompanied by vivid flashes of lightning and loud roars of thunder, to the distress of the mourners (Memoirs, p.185). 

It is exciting to read (albeit after the fact) that Susan Sibbald was familiar with Thomas the Rhymer; I also wonder if the actual paths we walked on she had also trod upon. 

We came upon a man walking his dog. "Do you know where you are?" I asked him, thinking he might also be a tourist. But he was a local person (which explained the odd look he gave me). He gave us excellent directions to Eildon Hall: go up and down two dips in the road, then see a nice entrance on the right.

He also gave us information on the house and told us, "There is no one living there now." He added it was owned by the Duke of Buccleuch and was intended as the home for the duke-in-waiting i.e., the eldest son of the existing duke.

The 9th duke of Buccleuch, who died in 2007, was the last to live at Eildon Hall. Incidentally, his funeral was held at Melrose Abbey and he is buried there; the Buccleuch family received some of the monastery lands after the Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries.

No one seems to like these (or other) dukes. Perhaps it also stems from the on-going effects of the Enclosure Movement, which peaked about two hundred years ago, but whose effects still ripple down the generations.  

Someone told us that one of the Buccleuchs used to ride his horse to the post office in Melrose and would order some bystander to hold the animal for him while he went in for his mail. One of the locals objected and ended up punching the duke. Surprisingly when the matter came before the local magistrate, he was let off. 

Anyhow, we walked and walked and finally found the gate: curved sandstone walls with white gates, which were wide open:

I took a picture of them and of the gatehouse, a charming stone cottage:

Then we walked up the incline 

until we came to Eildon Hall:

There was a black utility vehicle parked by the door, but while I peered through the glass of the front door, I didn't knock. It was a bit spooky. 

The vehicle is barely visible behind the over hanging branches.

It looked very run-down and dusty inside. There was an old wooden chair leaning against the wall and what might have been a dog-toy on the floor of the vestibule. It looked  like a stuffed sock —  a dirty yellow knit thing knotted at the top.

The whole place looked neglected:

Dr. Thomas Mein died 1815, not long after the completion of the house in about 1806. Later it was owned by a William Henderson and was lived in by the "Misses Henderson" in 1845. Architect William Burn redesigned and remodeled it (from 1861 to 1867) for the 5th Duke of Buccleuch. 

Why it did not remain in the Mein family is something of a mystery. Susan Sibbald continues her account of her father's desire to build Eildon Hall:
...he had the expectation of the property coming to him after his father's death [in 1794] and no doubt it would have been the case had matters been properly arranged as to his brothers' and sisters' portions, but he was abroad some years and did not hear of his Father's death till his return to England. My Grandmother was never satisfied about the sale of the property and always alluded to something being wrong in the agent's  management (p. 211).

A picture says a thousand words.

I considered trespassing onto the front lawn, but loud barking from an indeterminate direction gave me pause. This is all I managed to see. The Cheviot Hills, beloved of my great-great-great-great grandfather, are in the distance perhaps:

Although it was disappointing to see the house in such a state of decline, I was not as troubled as I might have been if it had been the original house, begun 215 years ago this spring. Somehow the mid-century renovations made it a different house to me, at least on the outside. 

Also something I discovered while re-reading Susan Sibbald's memoirs for this blog took my attention away from the house itself. She reminisces that her father had planted fir trees at the foot of the "east hill" (p.166), which I take to be the area through which we were walking back in September. 

Could these be the descendants of the original trees planted over 200 years ago?

How quickly do fir trees grow? Might this one be close to 200 years? 

They lend a special resonance to the term 'family tree'! How many hundreds of people now planted all over the world are part of this original family. 

Then we retraced our steps down the lane  to the disused road

and eventually back to the warmth of our BnB, where I slept for most of the rest of the afternoon. It had been a long walk in more ways than one.