Ayr Sheriff Court proceedings, 1909.

Spoiler alert: if you haven’t read this story from the beginning then start with this post here and read through the subsequent ones concerning DNA and document discoveries that helped solve the puzzle.


I didn’t expect to find anything else concerning Mabel Earley and John “Jack” Stevenson. I had several DNA connections to John’s mother, Alexina. I had proof that Mabel’s son Douglas knew the Stevenson family from Barrhill; evidence that he decided to adopt the Stevenson name as his own; and a version of the story of events between Mabel and Jack from Stevenson cousins.

Then I discovered a set of records I hadn’t heard of previously: Sheriff Court Paternity Decrees.

Sheriff Courts are unique to the Scottish legal system. They handle both civil and criminal cases and the “Sheriff” presiding over the court is legally qualified and appointed to the position.


In April of 1909, Mabel Earley brought a case for paternity payments against John Stevenson. The case went in Mabel’s favor and John Stevenson was ordered to pay the following amounts to her:

At Ayr the Twenty fifth day of February and the Twenty third day of March both in the year 1909, in an action before the Sheriff Court of the County of Ayr, at Ayr at the instance of Mabel Earley, daughter of George Earley, Coachman and Overseer Drumlanford, Barrhill, Ayrshire Pursuer, against John Stevenson, Carrick Mill, near the Knowe by Newton Stewart Defender the Sheriff Decerned the Defender to pay to the Pursuer the sums after-mentioned, in respect he was the father of an illegitimate male child of which the Pursuer was delivered at London on the Twenty first day of December 1908 viz:- Two pounds for inlying charges and Eight pounds per annum for seven years as aliment for said child, payable said aliment quarterly in advance and beginning as from said date of birth with interest thereon from the respective dates of payment; and Six pounds eleven shillings and threepence of Expenses.

This was a significant win for Mabel – unfortunately we can assume that shortly after this, John left for New Zealand because he did not want to pay or take responsibility for the paternity. The act of not paying the amount decreed could lead to further action in the Sheriff Court. By going to New Zealand, John was beyond the reach of the law.

This record only shows the decree – it does not give any further information about any evidence brought to court to prove paternity. The National Records Office says that the records of the court proceedings, which would have included more information and evidence, were mainly destroyed after 1860. Not all single mothers took their cases to court – possibly only 10 – 15% of illegitimate births have a record amongst the cases.

Some of the Sheriff Court records are available at Not all of the records are indexed – or at least indexed properly. It may be that the record set at FMP is incomplete – when I searched for this case, it didn’t return any results. I then used the index at this website and found that there was a record. The original records are held by National Records of Scotland in Edinburgh.



It was all in the letter…..

Late last year I was able to confirm the missing part of the story of Mabel Fanny Earley, the housemaid from Barrhill, Ayrshire who was my husband’s great-grandmother. I’ve blogged about her several times, here and here as well as the DNA match that lead me to a family of 4 brothers, with one of them being the potential father.

Finding descendents of those brothers and seeing photographs of them went a long way towards solving the story. Despite that, I thought I  would never truly be able to figure out which brother was the father of Mabel’s son. Even if I was able to trace descendants of the other brothers and DNA test them, the passage of time was not on our side. The amount of DNA shared between my husband and any other grandchildren or great-grandchildren of the brothers would be inconclusive. Why is that?

As every generation goes by, we lose some of our ancestors’ DNA. You get 50% of your DNA from each parent. On average, a grandchild compared with a grandparent would show on average around 25% shared DNA. In reality it could be anything from 18% to 32% according to the chart that I often use, put together by Christa Stalcup. DNA is passed down randomly rather than in precise measurements.  Your sibling may share more DNA with a grandparent than you do. It’s all very confusing when you first delve into it.


(Chart created by Christa Stalcup/ DNA Detectives showing the ranges of shared DNA for common relationships).

The analysis of DNA involves drawing a lot of charts and knowing the ins and outs of “relatedness.” You have to be sure that you know the difference between a first cousin and a first cousin once removed, for example. Or what makes you a half-aunt not an aunt? Why are you twice removed from this person rather than once? All of these relationships will put you at a different place on a family tree, and each different level of relatedness may mean a change in the amount of DNA shared.

I keep a public tree on Ancestry for the my husband, and I had added the  4 Stevenson brothers from Barrhill to the tree along with their dates of birth, indicating that paternity was unresolved. I had also seen that a few DNA matches had appeared for my husband on with the last name Stevenson. They appeared to be descendants of at least one of the brothers in question. I resolved to contact them and see if my story made any sense. Time passed and I did not get round to that.

Then one day at the beginning of November, another Stevenson contacted me from New Zealand. He had seen the tree and was wondering how he was connected to my husband. So I explained Mabel’s story, unsure whether I would get any response.

But this Stevenson cousin magically produced the other half of the story from his family documents, in the form of a letter written by one of his uncles, relating some family history to another family member. Here is the extract from the letter that tied everything together and gave me the name of the father of Mabel’s baby:

Stevenson letter

​So…in a word, he scarpered, rather than stay and do the honorable thing. “Lord Beale”, wasn’t just Mabel’s employer (possibly also John Stevenson’s employer) – he most likely also owned a lot of the land and dwellings around Barrhill and his word would carry considerable sway. On top of that, he was also the MP for south Ayrshire. It seems he was a force to be reckoned with. John (aka Jack) made a hasty departure, which unfortunately makes him look very much like the guilty party.
In terms of “absolute proof’, I would be on shaky ground here. The letter was written several decades ago; the story itself was hearsay from way before that. There are many apocryphal stories in family recollections. The DNA at this point cannot separate the descendants clearly enough to decide one way or the other. I do know that Mabel’s baby grew up using her maiden name – Earley – yet changed his name to Stevenson in later life. The 4 Stevenson brothers also had a sister, Annie. One of her children was a witness on the marriage registration for Grandfather Earley/Stevenson. So clearly the families knew each other. It seems likely, then, that Mabel was sure who the father of her baby was, and always made sure that her son knew too.  The story provided in the New Zealand letter makes sense. John didn’t have any more children and was quite young when he died in New Zealand. The remaining brothers joined him a few years later. They married and had children. Their children had children. This is the generation currently turning to DNA testing for use in genealogy.
There is one more mystery to the story of John Stevenson yet to be addressed. More of that next time.

Peter the dog – a eulogy.

My great-grandfather, David Stephen (1869 – 1946), kept a diary about his life in Scotland for many years. The volumes cover his life from before WWI to a few weeks before his death in 1946. I’ve have previously written about his time at Skibo Castle playing organ for Andrew Carnegie – you can read about that here.

The diaries covered his daily life and work, often mentioning visits with his children, outings with friends and his opinions on music.

This entry about the death of the family’s small dog is touching. The evident care taken to record the event in between the original lined pages; the insert edged with black ink; the inclusion of a photograph of Peter; this was a very special member of the family.

Peter the Dog Memorial insert

“Our wee dog, Peter, died on the morning of Thursday, 2nd June 1921. He had not been well for a day or two before, but we thought it was just a touch of sickness. On the Thursday morning however we saw he was worse, and before breakfast Margaret carried him to Mr Storey, the veterinary surgeon, who said he was suffering from acute gastritis. His only hope for him was that being a young do he might be able to pull through.

When she brought him back I could see that poor Peter was dying. Unfortunately I had to go off to Glasgow on examination business, but he was never far from my thoughts.

He never rallied, in fact I think he was more or less unconscious, and about 11 o’clock he passed quietly away. The vet came up later, but alas! too late.

He took him away to have him nicely buried, and he lies at rest at Leckerstone.*

We have had him for a little over two years and it is only his loss that brings home to us what he was in our household life.

Peter was not a pedigree dog, but he was better, he was a lovable one. Always on the look-out for us when we happened to be out, and on our return after a day or two always, always waiting to welcome us back.

Poor wee chap, he is sorely  missed, but we have the consolation that he died without undue suffering. His life has been a short one (not quite three years) but I think it has been a happy one right up to the end. I can hardly get reconciled to his absence, and I know we all feel what a bright element in our home life has been taken away.

“Rest in peace, dear Peter! I think you were conscious in life that we all loved you, and if there be an after-life for animals, you must know that you are mourned as a true companion and a faithful servant, and that your death is felt deeply as a great loss by all the members of this sorrowful family.””

*Leckerstone is near Dunfermline, Scotland, where he was living at the time. 

Below, the picture of Peter the dog that has been preserved between the pages of great-grandfather’s diaries for nearly 100 years.

Peter the dog photograph - Edited

George Noble, art student and conscientious objector in WW1.


Some years ago a friend was visiting his parents in Nottingham when he noticed a neighbor throwing out an old art portfolio – the sketches were dated from 1909 to 1916 – which she said was the work of her uncle. He had been an art student at Leicester School of Art. My friend, also an artist, liked the sketches and asked if he could have them, rather than them being thrown away.

About a week ago he posted some of the sketches on Facebook and pondered the fate of this young artist in World War I. There was no other information to go on other than “G. Noble” and the knowledge that he had been an art student in Leicester around 1910 – 1916.

George Noble courtesy of Ben Morris

(Photo courtesy of Ben Morris)

He contacted the De Montfort school in Leicester (previously the Leicester Municipal Technical and Art School) to discover more about the artist. The school had little to go on but was able to provide Ben with a ledger entry showing that the student was George Noble and that he paid his student fees in 1913. They also provided a small but significant piece of information (from an unidentified source) that opened up the story of George Noble and highlighted a significant group of men in World War I  – the conscientious objectors. Along with another of Ben’s friends, I went through British records from that period and was able to piece together some more of George’s life and what happened to him during the war.

George Noble was born in Hawick in Scotland on 19 May 1885 to Thomas and Jessie Noble. His father Thomas was a hosiery framesmith – someone who knew how to set up and repair the wooden knitting frames used to make stockings. Hawick had a long tradition at the heart of the textile industry. By the time the 1891 census was taken, the family had moved to Leicester, a city in the “Midlands” in England. Thomas was now described as an “engine fitter”. Thomas had been born in Hawick but his father was from Leicester. Perhaps they moved there for better job opportunities and to be closer to family.

In 1901 Thomas Noble’s occupation was clarified as “steam engine fitter” in the census. He presumably constructed, repaired and made replacement parts for steam engines. Son George, now aged 14, was listed as an “apprentice mechanical draftsman”.

By the 1911 UK census George was 25 and still living with his parents and siblings in Leicester, where his occupation was marked as “engineer’s draftsman.

George may have been studying part-time at art school as he probably had a full-time job.

In 1914 World War I started. The UK introduced military conscription in 1916 due to dwindling volunteer forces. Males aged between 18 and 41 had to sign up for service, unless they could already prove they were doing important work. Certain occupations were exempt from active service, including teachers and clergymen. Alongside this exemption, an important right had been built into the Conscription Act. Men had the right to object to conscription on moral or religious grounds.

16000 men tried to claim exemption. George Noble was one of them. The archivist at De Montford was able to provide the following snippet on George Noble:

George Noble…art student, not clear whether he appeared before the Leicester tribunal or in London, but was apparently allowed only an exemption from combatant military service, so was called up to the NCC (Non-combative corp), 6 Northern company, Leicester…

On 29 March 1916 Noble was called before one of the tribunals set up for COs to explain their reasons for seeking an exemption from active service. The tribunal panels were made up of local civilians with an army representative, and may not have been given adequate training or instruction about the task of vetting conscientious objectors. Noble may also have been an “absolutist” – a CO who would not work in any part of the military even if it did not involve combat. Having been granted an exemption from combat, he refused to take up his position in the NCC. He would not have seen combat in this corp, but would have had to wear uniform and be under army regulations. As a result of his disobedience, part of his army record goes on to show that he was arrested and tried at a court martial in Leicester on the 9th of August 1916. Here he was sentenced to 84 days imprisonment “for disobeying a lawful command given by his superior officer.”

Although the harshest sentence that could be meted out by court martial was death by firing squad, there is no evidence that any COs were killed.  Several received this sentence but had it commuted. Most conscientious objectors were sent to civil rather than military prisons. George Noble was sent Welford Road prison in Leicester for part of his detention. His sentence was commuted to 28 days, possibly for “good behaviour”. However he was still considered a conscript and would have to make a decision to either continue with the “cat and mouse” cycle of imprisonment that COs often endured, or compromise somehow.

It seems he did choose a compromise rather than return to prison. Several thousand fit young men had been imprisoned in 1916 for refusing to serve. Parliament introduced a scheme that it hoped would help divert some of these men from prison under what was termed “the Home Office Scheme”. Essentially the scheme was a number of work camps with hard labor considered to be “of national importance.” Often this was road building, agricultural labor or menial hospital work. The scheme allowed the men to wear civilian clothing and even to leave the camp for the occasional night out or day off. According to the information from the archives, George Noble accepted a transfer to a camp at Llanddeusant Water Works in Llangadock, South Wales. Around 200 COs worked there constructing the water works at Llyn Y Fan Fach, Carmarthenshire, to bring a clean water supply to Llanelli. Not a lot has been documented about this particular scheme, and much of the documentation was destroyed after the end of the war. A black and white picture posted on the site of a local archaeology group may show some of the COs in a group shot. They are dressed in “civvies” and flat caps for the most part, armed with only shovels, rakes and sledgehammers. Some of these men possibly stayed with local families for the duration of their “service”. The water works were constructed at over 1600 feet above sea level. The winter weather in particular was likely cold and very wet. Most men who worked on the schemes remained there until April 1919, when all but a few were released.

Without knowing anything more about Noble’s life, we can only wonder about the impact his moral choices had on the rest of his family. Some families were openly scorned and shunned for having a son who refused to go to the front. From other army records we know that George’s younger brother William served in the Post Office Rifles for 2 years before being discharged in 1918 and no longer considered fit for active service. The reason given was “defective vision”. It’s not clear from William’s scrawled, faded army record if he saw active service with this brigade, although it is know that the Post Office Rifles served at both the Battle of the Somme and Ypres. So the Nobles had one son in service and one in prison. Who knows if they supported one but not the other?

Some COs found it hard to secure employment after the war. The only other online record available for George Noble is from the 1939 “register”, a census-like “snapshot” of the adult population of England and Wales taken at the outbreak of WW II. George Noble was living in Leicester with his sister and his mother and was described as a “commercial artist (advertising and printing)”.  It seems he was able to continue making a living through art. Ben was told that the Victoria and Albert Museum in London has a poster in its archive designed by him.

The stories of Conscientious Objectors and other opponents of war are now being cataloged by the CO project run by the Peace Pledge Union in the UK.

You can also read more about how COs were treated on the Imperial War Museum website.

Thanks to Ben Morris for allowing me to use one of his photographs of the Noble portfolio. And thanks for saving the portfolio!


Till a’ the seas gang dry…G.E.S. 1942 – 2017.

In February of this year my father-in-law died. He was unique – a hard worker from a working-class family, he bucked expectations and made it into grammar school.  He was an avid reader and poetry lover, not to mention a real romantic. He also became a savvy businessman, an innovator and inventor who made a successful career in the nascent electronics industry at the beginning of the 1970s and subsequently lived all over the world. By the end of his life he had lived more years away from Scotland than in it. But he never lost his love of the country or the area where he was born. He once told me, when I dared to say that my favourite part of Scotland was the Highlands, “Well you’ve clearly never seen the Solway Firth.”

Rockcliff Solway Firth July 2017

(A view from Rockcliffe over the Solway Firth, with typical Scottish summer weather).

In death as in life, my father-in-law continues to travel. His ashes were brought back from Hong Kong, where he had lived for at least the past 35 years, to the US. Cultural differences meant that his Cantonese wife did not want to keep the ashes. They were couriered to San Francisco until his sons could decide how or where to best memorialize him. For a man who lived in the US, Bermuda, Scotland, England and traveled to many other destinations, it wasn’t going to be easy.

With an impending trip to Scotland, I decided that we should take some of the ashes with us and scatter them near his birthplace. Airlines have strict policies around the transportation of cremains, and I realized I wasn’t going to be able to adhere to any of them in the short period of time before we flew. Policies include having the ashes in an approved container, being able to show the appropriate paperwork and placing the ashes in your carry-on luggage. As I didn’t have all of the paperwork (somehow the death certificate had not accompanied the ashes on their travels) I decided to try and circumvent the restrictions as respectfully as I could. I ended up on my knees in the garage, transferring spoonfuls of ashes from the travel container into a ziplock bag. I placed the ziplock bag in a screw-top plastic tub and put it in my hold luggage.

My luggage, my family and the container flew across the US and spent several nights in upstate New York before catching a separate flight to Scotland. Neither the US carrier nor the budget European airline that took us from NY to Scotland were any the wiser that I had flouted their rules.

Several sleeps and one long car drive later and we were standing on the shores of the Solway Firth conducting an impromptu ceremony to scatter a share of my father-in-law’s ashes in the land of his forefathers.

This area of Scotland was meaningful to his family for many reasons. Not only was it where he was born, but most of his family lived no more than a hundred miles from Castle Douglas, where he grew up. So far I have traced as far back as maternal 5th great-grandparents to this area. His love of Robert Burns’ poetry was likely fanned by its proximity to two Burns residences  – the Burns house in Dumfries and Ellisland Farm . Connections to Burns oozed from every possible corner. The country house hotel we were staying at, an elegant house built in 1752, had featured Robert Burns as a guest of the original owner. (Suffice to say that Burns may not have been invited back after writing a somewhat insulting poem about the owner’s wife). The location that we had eventually chosen to scatter the ashes proved serendipitous too. Picking a spot to scatter ashes is not easy when there have been no advance instructions given by the deceased.  We had aborted the event at a  previous site the day before due to disgusting weather – heavy rain and wind that would most likely have thrown cremains back at us as soon as we relinquished our grasp on them. The village of Rockcliffe had been recommended to us as a more sheltered, rocky bay right on the Solway Firth.  As I had looked at the map I had seen place names that meant something to me, the chief researcher of family history. Colvend, Barcloy Mill – I had to go back to the Stevenson family tree to confirm what I thought – that Rockcliffe beach was a stone’s throw from some of the places where one of the family lines had lived.

His maternal grandmother, Mary Jane McKay, was born at Colvend in 1887, as were many of her siblings before and after. The graveyard near Colvend had a headstone (below) with several family names on it, including his great-great grandfather John McKay, who died nearby in 1902.

John McKay headston Colvend cemetery

It’s likely that my father-in-law would have had a lot to say about the notion of scattering ashes, the choice of location and what was the best thing to do. But the fact is that he chose not to leave any directions for his death, and so those closest to him had to find a way to do something meaningful. My husband wanted one of us to recite a Burn’s poem but we couldn’t settle on one. Eventually we went for “My love is like a red, red, rose”, which I sang, competing with the blustery wind as the ashes were sprinkled into the clear water. A simple love song for the big man with the big heart.

Oh my love is like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June

Oh my love is like a melody

That’s sweetly played in tune

As fair art thou, my bonnie lad,

So deep in love am I,

And I will love thee still my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.


Wintering the bees in Osnaburgh.

Skeps, boles and the Dairsie Manse.

I knew that the house we were going to stay in had not always been a dwelling. Situated just outside the village of Dairsie in Fife, it was a renovated out-building behind the original manse. (A manse was the house provided for the local minister and his family). It was a solid stone-built edifice crouching next to a rippling field of ripening, bearded barley.  The landscape has probably changed little since the 1800s.

The village of Dairsie  is shown on several maps as “Dairsie or Osnaburgh” and the navigation in the car we hired also gave us the choice of going to one or the other even –  though they are essentially the same place. I was born and brought up in Fife but could not recall why this tiny village – no more than a small grocery store, a pub and a few original stone houses – had a mysterious extra name.

Screenshot 2017-08-02 at 9.34.38 AM.png

Ordnance Survey map showing the dual names “Dairsie or Osnaburgh”. The Manse is marked towards the bottom left.

I did some “light” research on the origins of the name “Osnaburgh”. A similarly named town in Lower Saxony, Germany, called Osnabruck had given its name to a course linen fabric woven there. Internet stories centered around the suggestion that the first inhabitants of Osnaburgh/Dairsie were German immigrants who manufactured the same cloth. In the 1850s the name was noted in the Ordnance Survey book of place names with the following explanation:

“This village is also called Osnaburgh, from the circumstances that the first house in the village being occupied by a weaver who was working for some Cupar manufacturers a type of cloth called Osnaburgh cloth. The Rev. Mr Scott says that for the one letter directed to Osnaburgh there are fifty directed Dairsiemuir. He emphatically states that Dairsiemuir is the proper name. “*

The Rev Scott along with the schoolteacher and the local postmaster all concurred.  It’s likely that “Dairsiemuir” was a “planned” village, with houses built specifically to house hand-loom weavers so this explanation fits well with the history of the location.

The Rev. Mr Scott who gave this affidavit was the parish minister living in the Dairsie Manse in the 1850s. Unlike many of his parishioners, who had to cram a large family and a loom into two rooms, the Rev Scott lived palatially just outside the village. The Ordnance Survey book also describes the Manse:

“A neat and well-constructed house two stories high with suitable offices, vegetable garden and 6 acres Glebe land.”**

In 1861 the Reverend Scott was 59 years old, according to that year’s census. His wife was considerably younger and they had a one-year-old child – suggesting either that the Rev. had married late in life or that perhaps this was his second marriage.

The Manse was reached up an elegant driveway bridging a small stream. There was a very large walled garden to the left as we entered, and our house, the “Bee House”, was a short distance behind.

The current owners of the Manse had chosen this name based on the building’s former use as a place for “wintering” bees. Behind the wood-burning stove in what was now an elegant living space, there was a series of small square cubbies called “boles”. A “bole” in Scots is an alcove in a wall. Each bole was big enough to hold a wicker “skep” – a domed basket used in bee-keeping to encourage a hive. The skeps containing bees would be brought inside in winter to ensure the colony’s survival.


A wicker skep in a bole.

Bees had to go outside to keep the hive alive, so in one corner of the original building there was a hole in the considerably thick wall. This was the bee escape route. The current owners kept the feature during the renovation.


The bee “escape” route  set high in the wall.

Having never heard of bee boles or skeps before, I did some more “light” research and discovered that there is a whole organisation devoted to the preservation of boles. They have documented many of these in the bee bole registry! The boles in this house were included along with a photograph of how they looked pre-renovation.  You can view it here.Dairsie kitchen window barley

The unspoilt view from the kitchen window of the Bee House to the field of barley and beyond.


*Note that the name “Dairsiemuir” seems to have fallen into obscurity too. “Muir” is a common Scottish word tagged on to many place names, meaning “moorland”. It is also a common surname.

**Glebe land was a parcel of land that came with the manse used to support the minister of the parish, possible through farming use.

Photo comparisons in search of relationships.

Photo comparison is neither a science nor an assured way of confirming relatedness. We see what we want to see when comparing photographs in search of a likeness. But it’s fun to do all the same, with the appropriate caveats. Biological children can be the “spit” of their parents or it can be hard to find any resemblance. Children may look more like their aunts, uncle or grandparents until they grow into their features as adults. Different people will see very different things.

I wanted to create a “line-up” of the Stevenson brothers of Barrhill with some of their descendants at the same sort of age although this is proving hard to do. As yet I have not been able to track down a picture of Mabel Earley in any stage of her life. I seem to have become the default keeper of all of the family photos from the Stevenson side but there are very few. I suspect that with some digging I could find some photos of Mabel by contacting descendants of her second son, Willy Watson. That family lived in the tiny hamlet of Sorbie, Wigtownshire. This corner of south-west Scotland was home to weavers – damask weavers in this case – and the main street of the town consisted mainly of low single-storey weavers’ cottages. Many parts of the south west of Scotland seem to be like the land that time forgot – there is a sense of tranquillity and stability in the air, a contentedness with the way things are. The photographs of Sorbie “then and now” illustrate that to perfection – the main street has barely changed since 1890.

(The same row of houses in Sorbie main street, 1890 and today).

Yesterday at lunch our elderly relative handed over a packet of old photographs of the family (unfortunately none of Mabel). All of them were black and white. We paused over one, my husband’s father in the grammar school rugby team in his teens, and wondered what colour the rugby shirt might have been. “Uncle” Jim said he couldn’t remember, but remarked that everything looked better in black and white, and that some people around here still have black and white television sets. Jim does not have any internet, probably hasn’t used a computer ever and I doubt whether he has a cellphone. He is a happy 90 year-old , in reasonable health, still driving, going bowling (lawn bowls, not 10-pin)  and enjoying a pint of Boddington’s Bitter now and again.

The photos were fabulous, a joy to have . There were several of my father-in-law as a young man, and a few of him as young as 7 or 8 in a boy scout troup. So from that I have been able to add another young face to the Barrhill Stevenson lineup. One of these faces was his grandfather and the other were great-uncles. Again, photo comparison is for fun and is pure speculation. But here they are.

The four Stevenson brothers of Barrhill – John, William, James, David.


IMG_0653 (1)

My father-in-law aged about 13, taken at school at Castle Douglas in Dumfriesshire – he is the grandson of one of the above.

And my husband and his brother, sons of the above, taken in “new-fangled colour”, also in Castle Douglas, around 1972?

Doug Bob cowboy crop 2