The Cold Hatton Association for the Prosecution of Felons

Posted on February 2, 2026 by AtcherleyOrgUK

THE Gentlemen, Freeholders, and Farmers as under mentioned, of the Neighbourhood of Cold-Hatton, in the Parish of Ercall Magna, in the County of Salop, have bound themselves in Articles of Agreement to prosecute all Felons, especially Horse-stealers; and by this Agreement any Person or Persons who shall lose a Horse, &c. shall give the earliest Notice possible to the Society, who shall set out different Roads, and ride at their own Expence 100 Miles endways: and if any of the Society shall gain Intelligence of the Horse, &c. that he is in pursuit of, shall ride England through at the Expence of the Society, exclusive of the 100 Miles above-mentioned.

– Aris’s Birmingham Gazette, 11 December 1769, page 2.

Illustration of a man riding a horse, created in the late 1700s or early 1800s. The man is wearing a hat, a long-tailed coat, and boots with spurs; one arm is outstretched, the had holding a whip. The horse, facing towards the left side of the image, has both forelegs off the ground and both hind legs on the ground. — Julius Caesar Ibbetson, 1759–1817, Rider on a Galloping Horse, undated.
Public domain image from Yale Center for British Art ⇗.

The above notice was followed by a list of 33 names arranged under their places of residence, and a request for gatekeepers (at turnpikes) to provide information in return for a reward. It was the first of many such notices from this society that I have found through searches of the British Newspaper Archive. They span a period of more than 40 years, up to and including 1812 (with another, isolated example in 1834), and my transcriptions of them can be found on a new page in the Crime section of this website: The Cold Hatton Association.

As the title of this article and of that new page suggest, the Society became known as the Cold Hatton Association (for the Prosecution of Felons). Its membership included men – and at least two women – from Waters Upton. In 1769 John Wase (who remained a member until 1803) was the sole representative from the parish. Over the whole of the period from 1769 to 1812 however, at least 21 inhabitants of Waters Upton ‘bound themselves’ in the organisation’s articles of agreement. Some subscribed only for a year or two, while others became long-term members. Joseph James’s association with the, um, Association, lasted for at least 38 years!

The deterrence of felonies

The names of the 21 members of the Association who lived in Waters Upton, and the years in which I have found notices featuring those names, are shown in the chart below. The names are listed from left to right in order of when they first appeared in a published membership list – but where one family member was succeeded by another, I have grouped those family members together. There are two cases where a man was succeeded in membership by his widow. In the second of those cases, the widow remarried and her second husband, who bore the same surname, then took her place in the Association. There was also a son who succeeded his father (and possibly one brother who succeeded another – I’m still looking into that!).

A chart showing Waters Upton residents who were members of the Cold Hatton Association (names across the top of the chart) and the years when they are known to have been members (years, from 1769 to 1812, down the left side of the chart).

The grey lines across the chart indicate years – nine in all – for which I have found no published notices from the Cold Hatton Association in the period from 1769 to 1812. Three of those nine are, unfortunately, successive years: from 1805 to 1807. Otherwise, thankfully, there are one or more years on either side of the various gaps in the record, for which published notices are known. Bringing all of them together provides a useful resource for researching the area and its people, towards the end of a long period lacking the more detailed records created in later decades.

I plan to come back to the Waters Uptonians of the Cold Hatton Association – and hopefully make them more than just names – in future articles. First however, I want to look in more detail at the early history of the Cold Hatton and other Shropshire associations, and shed light on why folk from Waters Upton were joining forces with their neighbours to prosecute felons. I am grateful to past me for carrying out research that has given me a head start on this.

Back in 2017, for my Atcherley one-name study, I wrote about John Atcherley and the deterrence of felonies ⇗. John was a member of another Shropshire society for prosecuting felons in the late 1700s, one centred on Kinnersley (or Kynnersley). The settlements from which its members were drawn included some of those covered by the Cold Hatton Association, including two in the parish of Ercall Magna: Rowton and Moortown. The latter place was where John Atcherley lived and farmed. His sons Samuel and John later joined the Cold Hatton Association.

For want of immediate pursuit

In my article, I noted that when a similar society was announced for Oswestry and nearby parishes in Shropshire in 1775, it was stated that offenders had “too often escaped Justice for want of immediate Pursuit, and effectual Prosecution”. To explain further why these local societies were formed, I also quoted from an online article ⇗ by Matthew White:

18th-century law enforcement was very different from modern-day policing. The prosecution of criminals remained largely in the hands of victims themselves, who were left to organise their own criminal investigations. Every parish was obliged to have one or two constables, who were selected every year from local communities, and were unpaid volunteers. These constables were required to perform policing duties only in their spare time, and many simply paid for substitutes to stand in for them.

I continued as follows (this is copied, with minor modifications, directly from my Atcherley article):

The failure of the parish (or township) constables to adequately protect people’s property was also highlighted by historian Jim Sutton in his well-researched paper of 2004, Protecting Privilege and Property: Associations for the Prosecutions of Felons (in: The Local Historian, volume 34, number 2 ⇗; see page 25 of the PDF download).

Jim traced the history of these associations from their origins in resolutions adopted at parish vestry meetings (which set out terms for using parish funds to prosecute felons), to the ‘mutual subscription societies’ which then arose and came to prominence in the late 1700s and early 1800s […]

Gentlemen, Freeholders, and Farmers

Another author writing on this subject, barrister Gregory J Durston (in Fields, Fens and Felonies, published 2016, page 220 ⇗), has noted that the history of prosecution associations can be traced back to the late seventeenth century. One was formed in Stoke-on-Trent in 1693 – and even that was probably not the first such society. The great majority however were formed after 1760.

1760, coincidentally, may well have been the year when the first association in Shropshire was started. The Chester Courant of 25 March 1760 included a notice naming 24 inhabitants of Hodnet and two adjacent parishes. Sir Rowland Hill of Hawkstone, Baronet, and nearly two dozen of his neighbours, had “come to an agreement to prosecute (at their joint Expence) all Kinds of Felony, Petty Larceny, &c. and more especially Horse-Stealing.”

A painting, from around 1790, of Hawkstone Hall in Shropshire. The main hall, a four-storey building constructed largely from reddish-coloured brick or stone, is on slightly higher ground to the right. Other buildings, of one- and two-storeys, extend towards the left from the far end of the main hall. On lower ground to the left is a further building, long and of two storeys. On a wide drive on the lower ground in the centre of the picture, at the foot of a flight of steps, is a coach and horses. — Unknown artist, Hawkstone Hall, Shropshire, ca. 1790.
Public domain image from Yale Center for British Art ⇗.

By 1765 the aforementioned Kinnersley association had also been launched (with members including Richard Belliss and Thomas Wood, who would later live at Waters Upton). The initial focus of this group, according to their notice in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette of 9 December 1765, was solely the prosecution of horse thieves.

In the same newspaper over the following few years, several other Salopian associations began to advertise. In 1768, two dozen “Inhabitants of the Parish of Shiffnall” announced that they had raised a subscription to fund the prosecution of “Horse-stealers, House-breakers, and other Felons”. In addition, 30+ “Gentlemen, Freeholders, and Farmers” in and around Edgmond parish had come together to prosecute people pinching their property. The following year saw the publication of notices on behalf of 38 gents, freeholders and farmers “of the Neighbourhood of Childs-Ercall” and, as we have seen, by the Society formed for the Cold Hatton area.

Through the 1770s and in the decades immediately thereafter, many more associations came into existence, in Shropshire and elsewhere in England and Wales. We will likely never know for sure exactly how many there were. John H Langbein, in The Origins of Adversary Criminal Trial, published 2005 (page 132), cites research ⇗ suggesting that the number was at least a thousand, but might have been four times that figure.

Horse, Mare, or Gelding

Thomas Barker, 1769–1847, Man Leading a Horse, undated.
Public domain image from Yale Center for British Art ⇗.

“Horse-stealers” were clearly the main target of the prosecution associations set up for the neighbourhoods of Cold Hatton and other Shropshire settlements. Horses were, in the words of Gregory J Durston, “valuable and relatively easy to transport long distances.”

Depending on the breed and the owner, a horse might be used for personal transportation (in the saddle, or in a trap or carriage); for pulling ploughs, drills, harrows, carts or waggons; or for following the chase when hunting with fox or otter hounds. (There were race horses too of course, but probably not many in the stables in and around Cold Hatton and Waters Upton.) The new prosecution societies were clearly a tempting proposition for some of the horse owners living in the areas where those organisations were set up.

As the Cold Hatton and other associations evolved however, there was an increased emphasis on theft, injury or damage to other livestock and property, and a greater range of rewards for information leading to convictions. I will look at these changes and other developments in the second part of this article.

To be continued.

Kinship, continued: The Waters Upton ‘Big Tree’

Posted on April 10, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

Back in 2020, in Kinship in the parish of Waters Upton in 1841, I wrote about the ‘family tree’ of my Waters Upton one-place study at Ancestry. “‘Forest’ might actually be a better word than ‘tree’,” I said, “given that what I have established is in fact a collection of numerous separate trees growing in one place.” Even then I recognised that, as more connections by blood and/or marriage became apparent, “[quite] a few of those trees were not ‘separate’ after all.” Following some recent work on the ‘forest’ I think it’s time for me to update you on the subject of kinship in the parish of Waters Upton – and introduce you to the ‘Big Tree.’

Normally when a family tree is constructed, its starting point is the person who is building it (or the person for whom the tree is being built by someone else). From that person a branching network of ancestors and relatives grows. If you build your tree on the Ancestry platform, and set yourself as the ‘home person’ of that tree, the profile page for every person in it will tell you how they are related to you. What I am creating for my Waters Upton one-place study is clearly not a normal family tree! I have however set a home person for the ‘forest.’ Let me explain why.

A well-connected couple

As I have described on this site’s home page, the woman who drew me to Waters Upton back in 2011, and sparked the interest that became my one-place study (or OPS), was my 3x great grandmother Mary Titley, née Atcherley. Mary, who died in 1832 and is buried in the churchyard of Waters Upton St Michael, was part of a farming family based at Moortown, not far from Waters Upton in the neighbouring parish of Ercall Magna.

The gravestone of John and Mary Titley at Waters Upton.

Mary’s maternal ancestors were the Wase family, established at Waters Upton Hall from the beginning of the 1700s. Amongst her other ancestors in the parish, Mary’s 4x great grandfather Richard Hitchins, baptised on 30 June 1616, was born there.

Mary’s husband John Titley (not my ancestor, but that’s another story) is buried with her at Waters Upton. John was a butcher, but his ancestors were agricultural labourers. His relatives, prior to his marriage to Mary Atcherley, were mostly labourers, or engaged in trades or crafts. The Titleys did not have deep roots in Waters Upton. Nevertheless, John had a 2x great grandmother, Elizabeth Matthews, née Christian, who was a native of the parish and was baptised at St Michael’s on 19 February 1720/21.

Between them, Mary and John had familial connections with a great many people, across the social spectrum, in Waters Upton parish. So I decided a while ago to set Mary as the home person of the growing Waters Upton forest at Ancestry. After that, if anyone in the forest had family ties to Mary, no matter how convoluted or remote, the nature of their relationship was shown on their profile page. This gave me my first feel for the extent of the complex network of connections between the people of the parish. It also made me rethink the ‘rules’ I had set regarding who I should include in the growing forest…

Welcome to the jungle?

I set the rules of admission quite early on, when I was nurturing the saplings. The core people were those who were either born in Waters Upton parish, or came to live in it at some point later in their lives. To explore the stories of those people in more detail, I decided I would also include their spouses, all of their children, plus their children’s spouses, whether or not they were born in or lived in the parish.

Later, to research the extent of kinship in the parish more fully, I adapted my rules and started to add parents, or siblings, sometimes grandparents (even if those relatives weren’t born in, or never lived in, Waters Upton), where this would bring out the relationships between the core people of the OPS forest.

Those connections to my 3x great grandmother, incidentally, could range from a first or second cousin, to something like “1st cousin 1x removed of wife of brother-in-law of 1st cousin 2x removed of husband”! The degree to which an individual is connected to Mary Atcherley Titley isn’t the important thing, it’s the fact they are part of a group of people who are all connected to each other by blood and/or marriage.

A big tree in Waters Upton. But not *the* Big Tree.

Gradually, the ‘Big Tree’ within the forest grew ever larger. But how large? Exactly how many – or what percentage – of my forest dwellers were part of this increasingly complicated web of connected people?

The suffix fix

Most family tree programmes will tell you how one person in a tree is related to another. But they aren’t designed to tell you how many people in the tree are related to one particular person. After all, in a typical family tree everyone is related to everybody else, in one way or another. Not so with my atypical tree, the OPS forest! With no quick technological fix available to me, I had to come up with a different solution.

If I had done this after Ancestry introduced MyTreeTags ⇗ I might have created a custom tag called The Big Tree and made a start on adding that tag to everyone I saw who was connected to my 3x great grandmother. Conducting a search for people within the forest, using that tag as the criteria, would then give me the names of all the people so tagged, and display a total. The recent addition by Ancestry of Networks ⇗, part of a suite of Pro Tools ⇗ requiring an additional subscription, provides another possible method.

With neither Tree Tags nor Networks available to me, I came up with something else. I had already started using Ancestry’s name suffix field to identify people who were born in or who lived in Waters Upton, with “[OPS]” as a ‘marker’. So I started adding a new marker for people who were related to Mary Atcherley Titley: [🌳]. As it is a string of three characters (even if one of them is an emoji, and even though this string is in the name suffix field) I can conduct name searches to pick up all the people with the marker.

More recently I started adding a second marker. I wanted to be able to see at a glance whether a given individual without a ‘Big Tree’ marker was not part of the tree, or was someone to whom I had yet to add the marker. For those in the forest who are not (or at least, not yet) in the Big Tree I am adding this marker: [🍃] – a falling leaf, not attached to a tree.

This is a time-consuming solution, and one which is ongoing due to the size of the Waters Upton forest. At the time of writing, there are 7,688 people in that forest, of whom a fraction under 26%, incidentally, have the [OPS] marker.

Treemendous totals

The “recent work on the ‘forest’” that I mentioned in my introduction to this article is an attempt to generate some meaningful data from the Big Tree markers. Using census Tree Tags that I had already created, I filtered the list of people in the OPS forest to view those enumerated at Waters Upton in each of the censuses from 1841 to 1921. Then I made sure all of those people had [🌳] or [🍃] markers. This has provided numbers, at fixed points in time over a period of 80 years, for Waters Upton residents who were (or were not) in the Big Tree.

As you can see, in every census year a sizeable majority of Waters Upton’s residents were part of the Big Tree – even in 1841 (64.6%). (See the aforementioned Kinship article for more on the challenges presented by that particular census). The average percentage across the censuses from 1851 to 1921 is just under 80%. Wow. Everyone on the planet is related of course, but I wasn’t expecting the level of provable (if often complex!) connections in my OPS to be quite that high.

I’ll conclude with a few points to be borne in mind (and with a version of the bar chart showing percentages for each census year):

The ‘forest’ does not, and never will contain everyone who was ever born in or lived in Waters Upton, nor does it contain all the people who might link a particular ‘forest dweller’ to the Big Tree
Further research, examining the ancestry of individuals in the forest more deeply, would (and probably will!) connect more people to the Big Tree
Proving connections between people, particularly as we go further back in time, can be difficult, so an unknown number of people in the forest who should be in the Big Tree, are not
Depending on the timing of the marriage that (directly or indirectly) connected a previously unrelated forest dweller to the Big Tree, that person might not have been part of the tree when a particular census was taken, or indeed during their lifetime!

(The last of the above points is a cue for more work, perhaps looking at a particular post-1841 census to see the extent of the connections that existed at the time in question. 1871 – with nearly 87% in the Big Tree – looks like it would be a great choice!)

In support of the school at Waters Upton

Posted on March 27, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

WATERS UPTON.

SALE OF WORK.

On Tuesday, a two-days’ sale of work was inaugurated here, the objects being to wipe off the debt recently incurred by the enlargement of the schoolroom, and also to raise funds to provide a heating apparatus for the church. The promoters of the affair were most fortunate in their selection of the days upon which to hold proceedings, the weather being summer-like in its character, and consequently the bazaar was a complete and unqualified success.

So began a report in the Wellington Journal on Saturday 14 September 1889 (page 7) – a report so long that I have only included the above paragraph in this website’s Education in the news page. More of the article deserves to be seen however, and commented on: hence this post.

There are two things about the news story that are of particular interest to me. Firstly, it looks back at, and provides an insight into, the foundation of Waters Upton’s school. Since I have failed to find much newspaper coverage from the time when the school was proposed, built, and opened, this is valuable information. Along with this information there are also opinions about education provided – or rather, not provided – in Waters Upton before the school existed.

Secondly, the support that was needed for Waters Upton to establish its school (and then to expand and maintain it) becomes apparent. A community that extended well beyond the boundaries of this small parish was essential for success.

Let’s continue with the Journal’s report, and set the scene…

The schoolroom, in which the proceedings took place, presented a strikingly ornate appearance. Opposite the entrance was a collection of hot-house plants, and in the background were arranged asters of various hues on a bed of moss, fuchsias, geraniums, &c., the effect produced being very pretty; while each of the windows was tastefully decked with various plants, moss, and multi-coloured flowers; and altogether it was evident much time and care had been expended in order to give the room as attractive an appearance as possible.

Fuchsias, but not from Waters Upton in 1889! Photo by the author.

As the article continues, some idea of the extent of the support network enjoyed by Waters Upton becomes clear. Some of the people named were residents of the parish, and some were the neighbouring parishes of Ercall Magna and Bolas Magna (a few of them may be familiar if you have read Late Victorian Christmases in Waters Upton). Many however were from further afield…

The proceedings commenced shortly after two o’clock, by which time the room was crowded by those in sympathy with the undertaking, among those present at the opening stage, or subsequently, being the following:—The Rev. J. B. and Mrs. Davies (The Rectory), the Rev. W. T. Burges, R.D. (Newport), the Rev. and Mrs. Thomas (Tibberton Rectory), the Hon. Mrs. and Miss Herbert (Orleton), Mrs. and Miss Noble (Child’s Ercall Rectory), Mrs. Juckes (Tern), Mr. and Mrs. Taylor (Burleigh), Miss Rylands (Banshee House, Newport), Mr. and Mrs. Cornes, Mr. Cornes, jun., Mr. B. Steedman, Mrs. Steedman, and Misses Steedman, Mr., Mrs., and Miss Rider (Edgboulton), Mrs. Instone (Bolas House), Mrs. Cotton (Wall Farm), Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Percival, Miss Groucock, Mr. and Mrs. Jefferies (Bolas Mill), Mr., Mrs., and Misses Heatley (Eaton), Mr. and Mrs. Davies (London), Mrs. Taylor (The Hall), Miss Wright (Cold Hatton), Mr. and Mrs. Shakeshaft, Mr. and Mrs. Rider (Crudgington), Mrs. Davies and family, Mrs. Rider (Wellington), Mr. Wase Rider, Mr. J. V. T. Lander, Mr. and Mrs. Adney (Rowton), Miss Brookes (Rowton), Miss Price (Rowton), Mr. W. A. R. Ball, &c.

With the scene set, and the supporting cast introduced, the Reverend John Bayley Davies takes centre stage. The indefatigable rector was, I believe, the driving force behind the establishment, and the success, of Waters Upton’s school. He was soon talking about the subjects that I have expressed interest in…

The Rev. J. B. Davies, in opening the proceedings, said his first duty as rector of the parish and as one of the managers of the school was to give all who had kindly come forward to assist them in their object that day, a hearty welcome, especially to those who lived outside the parish, and he must say that Waters Upton had often received most valuable help during the past 20 years from their immediate friends and neighbours.

Proceeding, he said that 20 years ago, as perhaps some of them would remember, there was no school in the parish, nor any place in which a child could be taught, and he feared that many the children grew up very imperfectly educated. The Education Act of 1870, however, put them all upon their mettle, and they were resolved to do something.

There are a few things to unpack from the above, especially the second paragraph. First of all, was there really no school in the parish back in 1869? That depends on how you define ‘school.’ It is certainly true that at the time in question, there was no educational establishment in Waters Upton receiving Government funding and inspection.

Yet, if you look at the census returns for Waters Upton up to 1871 (and at other sources for the years before the 1841 census) there were teachers in the parish. Most, I believe, were teaching in what were termed ‘dame schools.’ The establishment run by Mrs Anne Walker (assisted by her daughter Sarah by the time of the 1871 census) was probably a step up from the others, and survived well beyond the opening of the village school. Several of Rev Davies’ predecessors also took in boarding pupils, for a fee, at the rectory.

So, there were certainly places within the parish where children could be taught – and if we look just a little beyond the parish boundary there were at least a couple more educational facilities that some from Waters Upton might have attended.

Waters Upton School in its present-day incarnation as the village hall. Photo by the author.

I will write in more detail about these various schools and teachers at another time; for now I will just say that the Rev Davies probably had good grounds for fearing “that many the children grew up very imperfectly educated”! And the rector was absolutely right to say that the Education Act of 1870 ⇗ “put them all upon their mettle”. Under that Act, in 1873 the Education Department issued a notice that galvanised Rev Davies, and his supporters within and beyond the parish, into action.

That notice basically gave the residents of Waters Upton, Cold Hatton and neighbourhood an ultimatum. In a nutshell it said: A school for 100 children is needed in your area. If one is not provided voluntarily (for example, a ‘National School’ like the many others already established elsewhere by the Church of England) a ‘Board School’ (non-denominational, managed by an elected board, and paid for in part from the rates) will be established. A ‘voluntary’ school, tied to the Church, which would receive Government grants (and inspections) but not impose upon the ratepayers, was seen as the way to go. This took some determination. A lot of help was required – and was readily given…

Some difficulty was experienced in providing a school, in consequence of the small number of landowners in the parish, and the small extent of the parish, and because there were no very large incomes; but by uniting together, and with the help of others outside, they succeeded in effecting their purpose. (Applause.)

The school was built in 1874, and amongst others his late respected friend, Mr. Samuel Minor, of Meeson, gave them very valuable assistance. He prepared the plans, so that they needed no architect, superintended the building of the school, and gave other valuable help which it would have been impossible do without. (Cheers.)

John Bayley Davies then mentioned the bazaar held in 1876 to clear the initial debt on the newly-built school, and praised the “excellent teacher” then in place (Amelia “Minnie” Amos, who would soon be leaving – her story, and those of the other teachers at the school, will be told in due course).

Lady Mabel Bridgeman, as she was before her marriage to Colonel Kenyon-Slaney. Photo from Forgotten Ancestors ⇗ (where you can read more about Lady Mabel), and used by the kind permission of Helena Cowell.

After the conclusion of Rev Davies’ speech the sale of work was formally opened: “Lady Mabel Kenyon-Slaney came forward amid considerable applause, and in a few neatly-chosen words, declared the sale open, and wished the promoters every success.” (This was followed by many more words from her husband, Colonel William Kenyon-Slaney, the local MP.)

According to the Wellington Journal, “Business was then briskly proceeded with, the ladies using their proverbially persuasive powers with highly satisfactory results.” Including donations, £89 18s. 8d was raised over the two days of the sale. If you would like me to share the details, by reproducing the rest of the newspaper article, leave a comment and I will add a Part 2 to this post!

Waters Upton in World War 2: Dorothy Tudge, Land Girl – Part 2

Posted on March 26, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

⇐ Part 1

Women Needed for Land Army

If war should come the work on the land would have to continue, and women would largely take the place of men. At the request of the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries a Shropshire Women’s Land Army Committee has been formed, with Viscountess Boyne, Bridgnorth, as chairman […] Already there has been a good response from the Shropshire women. Applicants are being interviewed, and short holiday courses arranged for those who have little or no knowledge of farm work. […]

– Shrewsbury Chronicle, 7 July 1939, page 16.

Women's Land Army poster. It depicts a young woman holding a pitchfork, set partly against an arable field. It says: For a healthy, happy job join the Women's Land Army. — Image: IWM (Art.IWM PST 6078 ⇗)

I have little doubt that Dorothy Tudge was one of the first Shropshire women to volunteer for the Women’s Land Army. Pinning down exactly when she became a ‘Land Girl’ is tricky though, given that the date is not shown on her WLA index card. Also, that card recorded Dorothy’s age as 29, which if accurate (hint: I’m pretty sure it wasn’t!) would mean that she joined in 1936, well before pre-WW2 recruitment had started.

There’s a little more to be gleaned from that index card. Dorothy’s WLA number was 3872, and her address was her family home: Whittingslow, Marshbrook, Shropshire. Her occupation when she joined was ‘Poultry worker’; her qualifications were “6 years practical experience in poultry work, specializing in laying battery work.” Evidently she had moved on from the dairy work she trained for in the mid-1920s.

Waters Upton

Dorothy expressed a preference for ‘mobile’ rather than local service, and she was duly placed on a farm at the other end of the county; her stint as a poultry worker at Waters Upton was most likely her first ‘posting.’ She was recorded on the National Identity Register on 30 September 1939 at The Grange, where she lived with 70-year-old widow Edith Moore and Edith’s daughter Eileen.

This type of accommodation for Land Girls ⇗ was known as private billets. Treatment of WLA ‘guests’ in such billets varied – I hope Dorothy’s experience was towards the ‘one of the family’ end of the scale. I suspect that her farming background would have counted very much in her favour.

While part of me wonders about the specifics of what her poultry work involved, another part of me wants to know how Dorothy spent her time when she was wasn’t working. Did she explore the local countryside? Take walks into the village to visit the shop or post letters, engaging in cheery exchanges of greetings or conversation along the way? Take part in evening social functions in the old school room (though these seem to have mainly taken the form of whist drives!)? She would almost certainly have accompanied Mrs Moore and her family to church services on Sundays.

I’ll write in more detail about the Moore family at a later date. Suffice to say for now that the 1934 Kelly’s Directory showed Edith’s husband Robert Edward Moore, farmer, at the Grange Farm; he died in 1935 and the 1937 Kelly’s Directory lists his son Robert Henry Moore in his stead. From the 1939 Register we can see that Edith continued living at The Grange, while her son Robert was based, with his wife and children, at The Grange Cottage (a little further down Catsbritch Lane). Robert was described in the Register as a ‘Mixed Farmer.’ I suspect that he did not have a poultry unit himself – I think it more likely that a tenant renting one of his cottages did, on a piece of land that went with the cottage.

There were three cottages, and nearly 190 acres of land, attached to The Grange Farm. All of this property was sold in September 1941 when the Moores moved on from Waters Upton. Perhaps that was when Dorothy departed too.

Photo of Waters Upton Grange. It is a two storey building with pale yellow walls. A car is parked outside, and there are a few ornamental trees in the garden. — Waters Upton Grange as it appears today. Photo by the author.

Much Wenlock, then Whittingslow once more

By July 1942, Dorothy was based on the other side of Wellington from Waters Upton, at Bradley Farm, just North of Much Wenlock. I know this because of a lengthy report in the Shrewsbury Chronicle of 23 October 1942 (page 8) headlined “Petrol Rationing Offences.” Miss Constance Jean Conroy was at the centre of this case, as the person who illegally received and used petrol coupons; she was fined £40 in respect of eight offences. Dorothy Tudge, one of the parties who had transferred coupons to Miss Conroy, was fined a grand total of £1!

Meanwhile, other members of the Tudge family were also involved in the war effort. Dorothy’s father William was a Lieutenant in the Whittingslow Home Guard Platoon (Shrewsbury Chronicle, Fri 21 May 1943, page 4). Her brother Herbert meanwhile had joined the RAF. His active service was sadly short-lived…

From All Round The Wrekin

News of Missing R.A.F. Officer

A few weeks ago Squadron-Leader A. J. [= H. J.] Tudge, son of Mr. W. B. Tudge, of Whittingslow, Marshbrook, was reported missing from an operational flight over Northern France. During the present week he has been officially reported to be a prisoner of war. The news has come as a great relief to squadron Leader Tudge’s relatives and friends in South Shropshire. […]

– Shrewsbury Chronicle, 1 Aug 1941, page 4.

While confirmation that Herbert was a prisoner of war was good news considering the alternative, this meant that he spent most of the war in Stalag Luft III. The Shrewsbury Chronicle of 22 December 1944 (page 5) conveyed the news that Herbert’s parents had received a photo showed Herbert and other officers taking part in a play staged at the prison camp, “Blithe Spirit,” in which Herbert played a female part. A copy of the photo appeared in the paper’s edition of 12 January 1945 (page 6).

Notices in the Shropshire press towards the end of 1944 suggest that Dorothy Tudge was by then back on ‘home turf’ and had, along with her cousin Helen Maybery, turned her hand to rearing pigs. Those notices (including one on the front page of the Shrewsbury Chronicle of 13 Oct 1944) related to the annual sale of pedigree and commercial pigs at Shrewsbury, scheduled for 27 October. Those entering animals to the sale included “Misses Tudge and Maybery, Marshbrook (Large Blacks)”. After that, news on Dorothy’s whereabouts and activities is hard to find for a while. Let’s return to her obituary to pick up the latter part of her story.

Wadhurst

In 1953 she and her mother, who survives her, came to live in Wadhurst, where they made many friends. Miss Tudge was active member of the Women’s Institute, of which she was branch treasurer for several years, and was a supporter of many other local activities. She also worked for a number of charities and was a regular member of Tidebrook church […]

– The Courier (Tunbridge Wells), 17 Dec 1976, page 22.

An extract from an Ordnance Survey map showing several settlements, with roads, streams, ponds, and some areas of woodland and wooded parkland. The main settlements are Sparrow's Green and Wadhurst; Primmers Green, Little Pell, Wadhurst Castle, Windmill Farm and Durgate are also shown. — Extract from a 1:25,000 scale Ordnance Survey Map covering Durgates, Sparrow’s Green, and Wadhurst. I have added a green circle to highlight Great Durgates Farm. Map reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. Click on the image to view a larger version.

Dorothy’s father William Tudge went to Wadhurst too. He was included in the household at Great Durgates Farm on the 1955 electoral register for the East Grinstead Constituency. Sadly, he had died by the time the register came into force in February that year. The Wadhurst burial register shows that he was buried at the parish church on 10 December 1954.

Dorothy, as her obituary shows, became an active member of the local community she had joined. I have not found any information about the ‘other local activities’ she supported, or which charities she worked for. Her involvement with the local Women’s Institute, however, can be tracked – in part – via newspaper reports.

The earliest such report that I’ve discovered dates from June 1965, when Dorothy was one of three WI members who got full marks in the competition “My prettiest piece of china” (Kent & Sussex Courier, 4 June, page 16). Dorothy is recorded as Treasurer in 1969 (same title, 21 February, page 13), and in 1973 her efforts to collect information and photographs relating to the early years of Wadhurst WI were publicised (same title, 1 June, page 2, and Sussex Express, 5 October, page 20). The final snippet that I’ll share appeared in the Sussex Express, 30 December 1976, page 26:

WADHURST Women’s Institute held its Christmas fair at St George’s Hall. It opened on a sad note, when silence was observed in memory of Miss D. M. Tudge, a great worker for the branch for many years, who died recently. […].

Photo of a simple grey gravestone. The inscription reads: In loving memory of Dorothy Mary Tudge, 1907 - 1976; Also Mary Eleanor Tudge, 1884 - 1982. — Photo from Find a Grave ⇗ – my grateful thanks to Rebecca Stewart for permission to use it here.

Dorothy’s obituary in The Courier concluded by noting that her funeral took place on 13 December 1976, at Tidewell. Her mother, after dying at the age of 97, joined her there in 1982.

A gravestone in Tidewell churchyard marks the spot where the former Land Girl of Waters Upton and her Mum lie together in eternal and well deserved rest.

Waters Upton in World War 2: Dorothy Tudge, Land Girl

Posted on March 25, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

Miss Dorothy Tudge, of Great Durgates, Wadhurst, died at the Kent and Sussex Hospital on Wednesday of last week. She was 69. Born into a farming family in Shropshire, Miss Tudge lived there for much of her early life and served through the Women’s Land Army throughout the war. […]

– The Courier (Tunbridge Wells), 17 Dec 1976, page 22.

Recently I looked again at one of the people recorded at Waters Upton when the National Identity Register was compiled at the end of September 1939. Dorothy M Judge, born 15 January 1907 – why could I find no other records for her? Looking again at an image of the register page, the answer dawned on me: I had misread Dorothy’s surname, the ‘J’ was in fact a ‘T’. Oops. (The transcribers working for Ancestry and Findmypast made the same mistake; I have submitted corrections to both.)

With Dorothy’s true name established I could finally find and link together records relating to her, and piece together what remains of her story. Where better to start than at . . . the end? Well, it struck me that Dorothy’s obituary, the ‘potted history’ of her life shared by way of remembrance just after her death, provides a framework upon which a more detailed account could be constructed – and can now be shared.

Stepaside

As we have seen, Dorothy Mary Tudge was born in January 1907, in Shropshire. I think the exact location was most likely the place where she and her family were enumerated on the 1911 census: Stepaside. This lies on the edge of the parish of Stokesay, then part of the Ludlow Registration District ⇗ in which Dorothy’s birth was duly registered ⇗. It also lies right next to the village and parish of Onibury.

Extract from a large scale Ordnance Survey map. In the top right corner is the small village of Onibury. A railway line runns across the map from near the bottom right corner to the top, just left of centre. A river follows a similar but more winding course, and is crossed by the railway in two places. West of the river, in otherwise open countryside, are scattered buildings including a farm named Stepaside. — The village of Onibury and nearby Stepaside, on a large scale Ordnance Survey map. Extract reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. Click on the image to view a larger version.

The household at Stepaside recorded on the 1911 census was headed by Dorothy’s father William Bradford Tudge, aged 29, a farmer born at Leominster in the neighbouring county of Herefordshire. William’s wife was Mary Eleanor, 26, a native of nearby Wistanstow. She had been married to William for five years (their wedding took place at Stokesay on 14 March 1906 ⇗) and two children had been born of their union. Dorothy, then 4, we know about of course. The other child was a very new addition to the family: Herbert John Charles Tudge, age “under one month.” Enumerated with the Tudges were a maternity nurse, a ‘lady help,’ a general domestic servant, and a cowman.

A small extract from a 1913 Kelly's Directory. It reads: Shropshire. Tudge John, farmer, Duxmoor. Tudge William Bradford, farmer and prize cattle breeder, Stepaside farm.

Stepaside Farm was still this family’s home in 1913, when William Bradford Tudge, “farmer & prize cattle breeder,” was listed in that year’s Kelly’s Directory of Shropshire ⇗ as part of the entry for Onibury (the snippet from the directory, on the University of Leicester website ⇗, is used under a Creative Commons licence ⇗). His details appeared just below those of his father John, who farmed at Duxmoor. These listings were repeated in the 1917 directory (viewed at Ancestry: Herefordshire and Shropshire Directories, 1917).

By 1921, William Bradford Tudge had taken his family to live with his parents John (71) and Helen (68) at ‘Duxmore’. William’s occupation was given as “Assisting Father.” Dorothy, then aged 14, was not with her family however. She was instead boarding elsewhere in the county.

Wellington

Hiatt Ladies’ College in Wellington was Dorothy Tudge’s home away from home, presumably for several years. This institution was established in 1847 ⇗ by Mrs Elizabeth Hiatt, née Keay (whose Crudgington-born father John, incidentally, was baptised in November 1801 at Waters Upton). Allan Frost, author of a book on the history the college, is quoted by the Shropshire Star in 2019 ⇗ as saying that it was “the first college intended purely for the education of young ladies in the country.”

It appears that the college did an excellent job too. A list of students with top educational attainments published in The Educational Times of 1 February 1906 (pages 91 ⇗ and 92) includes five names from Elizabeth Hiatt’s establishment, and there are other examples to be found.

An extract from a large scale Ordnance Survey map showing streets and buildings in the Shropshire town of Wellington. Road names visible are Plough Road and Park Street. Named houses include Springfield, The Limes, and Chapel House. — King Street, Wellington (running North-South down the centre of this map extract) as shown by large-scale Ordnance Survey mapping. Mrs Hiatt used to live at The Limes; the college buildings lay immediately to the South, down to the junction with Albert Road. Map reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. Click on the image to view a larger version.

The census of 1921 shows that in addition to the head, May Margaret Daniels, there were 11 other mistresses, teaching English, French, science, history, music, art, and gymnastics. In addition the college had a matron, an assistant matron, and a nurse. Dorothy Tudge was one of 55 pupils, aged from 10 to 17, most of whom came from Shropshire and the neighbouring counties of Cheshire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire.

I would love to know what Dorothy’s educational accomplishments were during her time at the college, not to mention her other experiences and how she adjusted to a very different way of life after her childhood on a farm. Who were her friends? What did they get up to when not in class? Did they break the rules, and if so, were they caught?

Cwm Head, Radbrook, and Whittingslow

As for the length of time Dorothy attended Hiatt Ladies’ College, my guess is that she was there from around 1917 to about 1923. A report in the Wellington Journal of 19 January 1924 (page 5) then places her back in the South of Shropshire, and pursuing an interest in dairy work. The report, covering a meeting of the Salop Agricultural Committee, noted that:

Dairy scholarships of the value of £15 each tenable for ten weeks at the Shropshire Technical School for Girls, Radbrook, near Shrewsbury, had been awarded to the following:— […] Marshbrook Butter-making Class— […] Miss Dorothy M. Tudge, Cwm Head House, Church Streeton; […]

A photo of farmland in South Shropshire. In the foreground is a grassy field, on the far side of which is a hedgerow running from right to left, where there is a larger cluster of trees. Beyond are one or two more grassy fields, hedgerows, and trees, and in the distance there are some low hills. A pale blue sky above is partly covered by cloud. — View from above Cwm Head Farm. Photo © Jeremy Bolwell, taken from Geograph ⇗ and modified, used, and made available for re-use under a Creative Commons licence ⇗.

Did Dorothy delay taking up her ten week scholarship? Or did she stay at Radbrook for a lot longer than ten weeks? Some 18 months after the above report, the same newspaper carried (on 25 July 1925, page 5) details of the distribution of prizes at Radbrook Technical School. Amongst those presented with certificates and prizes by Lady Harlech was Miss D Tudge, who received a school certificate for dairy work – first class.

Over nearly all of the following 15 years, Dorothy seems to have ‘flown under the radar’ as far as the press was concerned. In complete contrast, her father and her maternal aunt, Mrs (Katie) Maybery, were regularly in the local newspapers thanks to their prize-winning herd of dairy Shorthorn cattle. From earlier examples of this media coverage (including the Shrewsbury Chronicle, 8 Apr 1932, page 8) it appears that the herd was established at Cwm Head around 1926, before the operation moved (in about 1929 I believe) to nearby Whittingslow Farm, Marshbrook. Though she spent time away from her family, these farms – especially Whittingslow – were home.

Extract from a large-scale Ordnance Survey map. Mostly it shows open fields and country lanes, but there is also the small hamlet of Whittingslow near the top right corner; a church and a farm named Cwm Head in the bottom left corner. — Cwm Head and Whittingslow, as shown on large scale Ordnance Survey mapping. Map extract reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. Click on the image to view a larger version.

Surrey, and back to Shropshire

Dorothy spent at least part of this time living – and presumably working – in Surrey. Electoral registers record her there in 1930 and 1931 living at 75 Langley Park Road, Sutton, with Ada and Caroline Absale (sadly, she probably didn’t make jokes about them descending vertical rock faces or the sides of tall buildings with the aid of ropes). She also appeared in a 1933 electoral register, at Chalklands, Woodland Road, Little Bookham, with Thomas and Edith Weaver.

Those few occasions when Dorothy’s name did appear in the papers during this period were sad ones – the funerals of her grandparents. The last of these events was the interment of Dorothy’s paternal grandmother Helen Tudge, who died in on the 4th, and was buried on the 8th, of February 1937. Reporting on Helen’s death and funeral, the Shrewsbury Chronicle (12 Feb 1937, page 16) noted that she was a member of the local Women’s Institute and the Women’s Conservative Association, as well being a “fervent church woman”. At least one of those things would rub off on Dorothy.

Two years later, Britain was at war, and members of the Tudge family stepped up to play their parts. For Dorothy, this would include working at Waters Upton.

Part 2 ⇒

A Man Found: Thomas Plant, of the Parish of Waters Upton

Posted on March 23, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

⇐ Part 1 (A Man Missing)

It appears that Thomas Plant of Waters Upton originated from Mucklestone, a parish which back then included parts of both Shropshire and Staffordshire. The baptism of “Tho: Plant Son of John Plant & Eliz: his wife” took place on 18 September 1726 ⇗ (making Thomas just under 50 rather than “upwards of” that age at the beginning of 1776). Then, on 4 September 1750 ⇗ and also in Mucklestone, the wedding of “Thomas Plant & Ann Thomas both of this Parish by Banns” took place.

Image created from two map extracts, showing "Mucklestone or Muxton" and nearby settlements and features including Oakley Hall, Winnington, Norton, the River Tern, Bellaport Wood, and Mucklestone Wood. — Mucklestone and nearby settlements, as mapped in the 1800s. Image created from two maps, reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗.Click on the image to view a larger version.

The Thomas Plant who was baptised in 1726 would have been 23 or maybe 24 years old when the above marriage took place, so I think the chances are good that he was the groom. What, though, are the odds that he was also the Thomas Plant who, with wife Ann, had children at Waters Upton a few years later and, later still, went a-wandering just before the snowfall of the century?

Another question: there was a gap of about five years between the marriage of Thomas Plant and Ann Thomas in 1750, and the first baptism of a child of Thomas and Ann Plant at Waters Upton in 1755 – were there any children born in that gap who might belong to this family?

In my attempt to answer the second question, I turned to Findmypast. This website has excellent collections of digitised and indexed parish registers from both Shropshire and Staffordshire (although oddly, while there are images of the register containing Thomas Plant’s baptism, that register has not been indexed). In addition, they have a very useful way for subscribers to search for vital events from across their record sets. This allows us to look for events falling within a range of distances from a particular place.

“Daughter[s] of Thomas & Ann Plant of Chetwyn Parish”

After using this search functionality I found myself focussing on two of the baptisms it revealed, both falling in the period from 1750 to 1755, and both at Hinstock (about seven miles away from Mucklestone, as the crow flies). First, on 6 Aug 1751 ⇗, there was Mary. Then, on 20 May 1753 ⇗, there was Elizabeth. Each of these girls was described in the parish register as being a “Daughter of Thomas & Ann Plant of Chetwyn Parish”.

For ‘Chetwyn,’ by the way, read Chetwynd: the Plant family had probably, erm, planted themselves somewhere in the north of that parish, such as Sambrook. At that time Hinstock’s church would have been closer than the one in Chetwynd village (Sambrook St Luke ⇗, shown on the map below, was not built until 1856).

Depending on exactly where in the northern part of Chetwynd parish the Plants were living, the distance by road from their abode to Waters Upton might have been somewhere between six and eight miles, or thereabouts. Did the Plant family of Chetwynd travel those roads and become the Plant family of Waters Upton? After researching their children, I believe they did.

Extract from an Ordnance Survey map showing the villages of Hinstock, Sambrook and Pickstock, along with other smaller settlements, roads, the River Meese, and areas of heathland including Ercall Heath and Chetwynd Heath. — Hinstock and parts of the neighbouring parishes of Childs Ercall and Chetwynd, as mapped in the late 1800s. Map reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. Click on the image to view a larger version.

My attempts to find out what happened to the Plant children have met with mixed results. The fate of Thomas Plant junior was all too easy to determine. Turn over a leaf of the Waters Upton parish register, from the pages showing his baptism in 1759, and you find the burial of the same “Thomas Plant the Son of Thomas and Ann Plant”. He was laid to rest on 11 August 1761, his second birthday having been his last. As for the sisters of this unfortunate boy, I’ll look at them in order, from the youngest to the eldest.

Margaret Plant was baptised in the month following her brother Thomas’s burial. It appears that she may have married in her home parish – at the age of 42. Banns of marriage between “Thomas Groom of the Parish of Bolas, Bachelor, & Margaret Plant of this Parish, Spinster” were published on three successive Sundays, May 1, 8 and 15, prior to the nuptials at Waters Upton on Monday 16 May 1803.

I have looked for baptism records for any children who may have been born of this union, in case the bride was another, younger Margaret Plant, but have found none. Neither, sadly, have I found death or burial records that I can link with any certainty to Thomas or Margaret, confirming their ages.

Even more speculative are my conclusions regarding Martha Plant. She may have married Edward Podmore at Chetwynd on 29 December 1781 ⇗. If she did, she might have ended her days in that parish: Martha Podmore of Chetwynd End, age 70, was buried at Chetwynd on 6 December 1824 ⇗.

“Elisabeth, the base-born Daughter of Ann Plant”

For Ann, there is another entry in the Waters Upton parish register besides her baptism which almost certainly relates to her – and to her daughter. On 7 March 1776 “Elisabeth, the base-born Daughter of Ann Plant by Edward Jones of Kidderminster” was baptised.

I am not at all certain what happened to baby Elizabeth, although I hope she survived, thrived, and was supported financially by the man who fathered her out of wedlock. I don’t think Ann married Edward Jones. She may have been the Ann Plant who wed a man whose name has been transcribed as John Esbury, at Stoke Upon Tern on 23 June 1778 ⇗.

Further guesswork is all that I can offer in the case of Ann’s sister Elizabeth Plant. She was possibly the bride of Thomas Talbot, in a marriage solemnised at Church Aston on 28 December 1776 ⇗. She might then have been the widowed Elizabeth Talbot of Chetwynd Heath who was buried 6 April 1783 ⇗ at Chetwynd.

For the firstborn child of Thomas and Ann Plant I believe I can offer greater certainty. Following the publication on 20 and 27 November and 4 December 1774 of Banns between “Thomas Cartledge and Mary Plant both of this Parish”, that couple were married at Waters Upton shortly afterwards on 15 December. Both parties made their marks rather than signing the register. One of the witnesses who likewise made her mark was Ann Plant, who was likely to have been either the mother or the younger sister of the bride.

Mary, you might remember, was one of the two Plant girls baptised at Hinstock. This marriage, I think, confirms her (and her sister Elizabeth) as part of the Plant family of Waters Upton. In which parish Thomas and Mary Cartledge remained after their wedding. Five children, Sarah, Mary, John, Elizabeth and Thomas, were born to this couple, all baptised in the church of St Michael in the latter half of the 1770s and the early 1780s, the surname in each case written as Cartlidge.

“Thos. Plant a Pauper”

A diagram showing the family of Thomas Plant (1726 - 1785) and Ann Thomas (1721 - 1780), with the marriages and spouses (many speculative) of their children, as described in the text of this blog post.

Let’s return to the parents of these children, Thomas and Ann. There are burials for both of them in the Waters Upton register. “Ann, the Wife of Thomas Plant, aged 62” was interred on 9 May 1780. Despite the slight age discrepancy, I think that makes her “Ann ye daughter of John Thomas of [probably Napley – part of the page is missing] Laborour”, baptised 30 January 1720/21 ⇗ at Muckleton.

Notice that the register entry for Ann’s burial refers to her as the wife, not the widow, of Thomas Plant. Thomas did survive the spectacular snowfall of January 1766, and at some point he did return to Waters Upton. His burial, on 27 December 1785, was entered in the parish register as “Thos. Plant a Pauper, aged”. Possibly the clerk meant that Thomas was aged as in old, but more likely I think is that Thomas’s age was never ascertained and the register entry was left incomplete.

Wait though – Thomas, a farmer in 1776, was a pauper at the time of his death? This is entirely possible. He may have been what we would now call a smallholder, renting and cultivating (and/or grazing livestock on) a relatively small acreage. And he may have suffered a setback, in the form of crop failure, diseased livestock, or personal ill-health for example, which left him unable to keep the farm and support himself in his later years.

Perhaps Thomas’s trip to Staffordshire (or wherever he actually went!), followed by his failure to return home for a couple of months or more, was the first sign that things were not well with him, with his farm, or with his finances. In which case, a cynic might take the view that Thomas’s ‘afflicted friends’ were actually creditors trying to track down the man who owed them money.

I prefer to believe that Thomas had friends who genuinely cared about him. Friends within his local community who were so concerned by his disappearance in the dreadful winter weather of January 1776, that they were prepared to pay for notices in newspapers in the hope of finding him alive and reuniting him with his family. Thomas Plant, the blue-suited ‘stout made man’ of Waters Upton, may have ended his days financially impoverished, but well off in that priceless commodity known as friendship.

A Man Missing: Thomas Plant, of the Parish of Waters Upton

Posted on March 20, 2025 by AtcherleyOrgUK

A Man Missing:

THOMAS PLANT, of the Parish of Waters-Upton, in the County of Salop, Farmer, having left his Family early upon Friday Morning, the 5th of January last, in Order (as he said) to Visit his Friends in Staffordshire for a few Days; and not having been heard since, though diligent Enquiry has been made after him: This is to request the Favor the Public, if they know any Thing of him, to give immediate Notice thereof to the Printer of this Paper, who will take Care to Inform his afflicted Friends. […]

– Shrewsbury Chronicle, 9 Mar 1776, page 3.

Imagine being the “afflicted Friends” – or indeed the family – of Thomas Plant. Off he went one day, saying he was visiting friends in the next county, but two months later he had not returned and no word had been received as to his whereabouts. Concern for Thomas’s wellbeing was heightened by the severe winter weather that followed his departure. The above notice in the Shrewsbury Chronicle continued:

It is feared that, as he went away just before the great fall of Snow, he Perished therein.

Photo of two Ash trees, with their trunks on the right side of the image and gnarled, twisting branches extending across to the left side. The upper sides of the branches, and the right sides of the trunks, are snow-covered. — Trees with snowy branches. Photo by the author.

“there never was known in this kingdom so deep a snow”

The description of the snowfall, and the fear expressed that it may have proved to be terminal for Thomas, were not exaggerations. Back on Saturday 13 January, the Shrewsbury Chronicle had reported (on page 3) that “the amazing fall of snow on Saturday night and Sunday last” had rendered the roads from Wolverhampton to Birmingham, and from there through Coventry to London, “intirely impassable.” Furthermore, a woman had been found dead in the snow in Worcestershire.

By the following Saturday, more reports of people lost in the snow had been received, and the Chronicle’s editor stated (again on page 3):

From the best accounts we can collect, there never was known in this kingdom so deep a snow as the present. The communications with London and other places, not only by carriages, but even by horses, were entirely shut for several days. The London mails due on Monday and Thursday last week, did not arrive here till Monday morning last.

Difficulties were still being experienced during the ensuing week. Along with snow-related reports from around the country however, the Shrewsbury Chronicle of 27 January also carried (on page 3 once more) news of local acts of charity. In Shrewsbury itself, William Pulteney and John Corbet, esquires, had paid for nearly 40 wagonloads of coal to be distributed among the poor of the town. A similarly generous helping of coal was also given to the poor of Shrawardine and Montford, by Lord Clive. And thanks to Lord Pigot, “a loaf and cheese were given to every person in Bridgnorth that would accept of them” – that edible offering was accepted by nearly 900 people!

“The Wings of small Birds were so frozen that they fell to the ground”

Another source of information on the severity of the weather in Shropshire at the beginning of 1776 is the parish register of Whittington. In that register the rector, Reverend William Roberts, liked to record far more than just baptisms, weddings and burials. His entries for 1776, which I have transcribed from copies of the original register at Findmypast (another transcript can be found on Mel Lockie’s website ⇗) began:

The New Year is set in with a dreadful fall
of Snow wch began on the 6th at night blown
in drifts by a brisk Easterly Wind, that It lies
in several parts seven feet deep, & has render’d
it impossible for the Mails to pass […]

After a couple of baptisms, Rev Roberts’ weather observations continued at the end of January and into February:

30th The Snow continues so deep & the Frost so
severe that the London Mails have not yet
come in regularly. The 21st was remarkable for
intense cold, and the 27th nearly as keen.

Feb: 1st A drizzling Rain wch. fell partly in Icicles, and
froze as it fell, many accidents happen’d from the
slippery surface of the paths wch. were
perfectly glazed. Travellors Cloaths instead of being
wet, were So stiffly congealed about them, that It
was with difficulty They were got off. The Wings
of small Birds were so frozen that they fell to the
ground, many were pick’d up & others

Feb: 2d died frozen to the ground. The next day a gentle
Thaw began to discover the face of the earth, wch
had been hid for so long a time.

Photo of a tree branch, stretching horizontally from left to right. The top of the branch is covered with ice, and icicles hang along the length of the bottom of the branch. Behind, and out of focus, snow-covered ground can be seen, along with further small trees or shrubs and their shadows. — An ice-covered branch. Public domain image from Pixabay via Picryl.

I think you can now fully appreciate the severity of the weather which descended upon Shropshire and many other parts of England, on the evening of the day after Thomas Plant left his home in Waters Upton in January 1776. Was he lost, or can we find the poor man?

To clarify: I’m not suggesting that we invent time travel and go back to look for our missing man. What I am wondering is, can we find Thomas in the records, and can we determine whether or not he survived, and returned to Waters Upton?

“A stout made Man”

Sadly I’ve found nothing about Thomas in the newspapers following the appeal that was made two months after he set off for Staffordshire. However, that appeal (a version of which also appeared on page 3 of Aris’s Birmingham Gazette on 11 Mar 1776) concluded with information about Thomas, to aid in his identification:

The above-named THOMAS PLANT is a stout made Man; upwards of 50 Years of Age; 5 Feet 9 Inches high; of a dark Complexion, with black Hair turning grey; He had on when he left Home, a Suit of blue Cloaths, with Basket Buttons of the same Colour, and wears his Hat turned up on the Sides, but not close cocked; rather Stoops in his Walk, and has an awkward Gait. Waters-Upton, March 9th, 1776.

Photo of a Dorset crosswheel button. Created by wrapping dark blue yarn around a ring so that the ring is covered; yarn is also extended from one side of the ring to the other so that there are 20 'spokes'. Yet more yarn is then wrapped around the central area where the spokes met, creating a wide hub of sorts. Within that hub a sky blue-coloured yarn has been used to create what appears to be a rose. — A Dorset crosswheel button. Adapted from a photo by Abigail Seabrook @Moretta Designs and modified, used, and made available for re-use under a Creative Commons licence ⇗.

How fantastic to have this pen-picture of our wanderer from Waters Upton! If, by the way, you are intrigued (as I was) by the ‘Basket Buttons’, they were often known as Dorset buttons ⇗ and were hand-made by “repeatedly binding yarn over a disc or ring former.” Very popular in the 18th century apparently. Not that this helps us in tracking down Thomas!

A more useful piece of information for our purposes is Thomas’s age. It’s a little vague, and might not have been entirely accurate, but it helps to narrow down the field when searching for him in the records. In addition, we know that although he lived in Shropshire, he (supposedly) left home to visit friends in Staffordshire. Might he have had family in that county too?

To the above leads, I can add more from my abstracts of baptisms at Waters Upton. There are four, in the latter half of the 1750s and another in 1761 which are of particular interest. Anne, Thomas, and Margaret, children of Thomas and Ann(e) Plant, were baptised on 18 May 1755, 25 March 1759, and 26 April 1761 respectively. In between the first two of those children, with no parents named but almost certainly another child of Thomas and Ann, there was Martha Plant, baptised on 2 October 1757. I think it is reasonable to conclude that these were children of the man who went walkabout from Waters Upton in 1776.

This information allows a search not only for Thomas Plant’s own baptism, but also for his marriage to Ann. Carrying out such a search, I soon spotted parish register entries which very likely recorded both of these events.

Part 2 (A Man Found) ⇒

Finding Folklore in and around Waters Upton

Posted on October 31, 2024 by AtcherleyOrgUK

“The history of no people can be said to have been written so long as its superstitions and beliefs in past times have not been studied.” These words were written by Professor John Rhys, M.A., back in 1881 ⇗, and quoted on the title pages of a publication I have been perusing in search of folklore connected with Waters Upton and its neighbouring parishes.

Shropshire Folk-lore: A Sheaf of Gleanings was published in three volumes from 1883 to 1886. The book was based on the collections of Georgina Frederica Jackson, and edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne. Collected within its pages were legends and traditions (concerning giants, devils, fairies, meres and more), followed by a shedload of superstitions, customs and beliefs including ghosts, witchcraft, cures, well worship, wakes and games, and concerning animals, plants, days of the week, and seasons from the new year to Christmastide.

From Waters Upton itself just one superstition is recorded in this Sheaf of Gleanings, but it concerns one of my favourite animals:

The Hare, like the cat, is associated with witchcraft, and therefore ominous. It is lucky to meet a hare (Waters’ Upton and Cold Hatton, in North Shropshire), but unlucky to see it run across the path.

Photo showing part of a brick structure in which there is an old well. An iron gate, with wire mesh, gives access (but it is padlocked shut). Added to the gate are two black silhouettes of boxing Brown Hares. — The silhouettes of two Hares on the gate to the well at the Western end of Catsbritch Lane, Waters Upton

Photo showing the head and shoulders of a Brown Hare, with his or her long ears held erect. The Hare's body is facing away from us, but the head is turned to the right. The fur is mostly a white-grizzled brown, with more white on the ears, which have black tips. The eye is a golden brown colour, with a large black pupil and a thick black rim.

What then of the area around Waters Upton – parishes which some Waters Uptonians would have come from, and which many will have visited or had other connections with? Some of the customs, superstitions and beliefs documented in relation to those parishes may well have been practiced or held by – or at least known to – people over a wider area. And the fame (or infamy) attached to any individual believed to possess ‘special powers’ would certainly not have been confined to that person’s own parish. In this article, I’m going to look at a custom, and an individual, both very likely to have been familiar to Waters Upton residents in the 1800s.

The custom is one related to harvest-time, an important season in any rural parish. Before examining that custom however, I want to share a snippet from Shropshire Folk-lore which shows how the practice of harvesting underwent a revolution in the mid-19th century as a result of mechanisation.

PERHAPS nothing in all the range of country life has undergone a more complete and more recent change than has the ingathering of the harvest since the introduction of reaping-machines some twenty years ago. Even before that time, dissatisfaction with the old slow methods of reaping and ‘badging,’ or ‘swiving,’ was widely felt; and the sickle was already giving place to the ‘broad hook,’ and that to the scythe, when all alike made way for the machine. And the agricultural labourers of the present generation often do not even know the correct names, much less the uses, of the time-honoured tools with which their fathers toiled so patiently day after day from dawn to dark.

On then to “Crying, calling, or shouting the mare, […] a ceremony performed by the men of that farm which is the first in any parish or district to finish the harvest.” Miss Burne goes on to tell us (having noted in the preface to her book that “no true Salopian ever sounds the letter h”) that:

The object of it is to make known their own prowess, and to taunt the laggards by a pretended offer of the ‘owd mar’ to help out their ‘chem’ [team]. All the men assemble in the stackyard, or—better—on the highest ground on the farm, and there shout the following dialogue, preceding it by a grand “Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!”

“I ‘ave ‘er, I ‘ave ‘er, I ‘ave ‘er!”

“Whad ‘ast thee, whad ‘ast thee, whad ‘ast thee?”

“A mar’! a mar’! a mar’!”

“Whose is ‘er, whose is ‘er, whose is ‘er?”

“Maister A.’s, Maister A.’s, Maister A.’s!” (naming the farmer whose harvest is finished).

“W’eer sha’t the’ send ‘er? w’eer sha’t the’ send ‘er? w’eer sha’t the’ send ‘er?”

“To Maister B.’s, to Maister B.’s, to Maister B.’s” (naming one whose harvest is not finished).

“’Uth a hip, hip, hip, hurrah!” (in chorus). […]

[S]ometimes the mocking offer of the mare was responded to by a mocking acceptance of her help, as when an old man told Mr. Hartshorne, “while we wun at supper, a mon cumm’d wi’ a autar [halter] to fatch her away.” There were of course variations in the details of the braggadocio in different places, but it was universally practised, and though dying out, is by no means extinct. Mr. Gill dates its disuse at Hodnet about 1850-60 […].

In 1868 the unusually early harvest of that hot summer incited a party of men at Edgmond, whose employer had finished on the 31st of July, to celebrate the event by crying the mare. “Wheer shan we send ‘er?” asked one party.” T’owd Johnny Bleakmur,” came the reply. Any unusual excitement or rivalry would naturally revive the old custom in this way, even when it had been disused as a general thing. […]

From Crying the Mare and ‘owd Johnny Bleakmur (John Blakemore of Edgmond, I believe), to ‘owd (old) Thomas Light of Walton in Ercall Magna parish. He would certainly have been a character familiar to people living in nearby Waters Upton – and was very likely related to some of them. The following, contributed to Shropshire Notes and Queries of 13 February 1885 by a correspondent identified only as ‘A’, was included in Shropshire Folk-lore under Conjurors:

Between sixty and seventy years ago a man named Thomas Light had a high local reputation as a conjuror, fortune-teller, and “wise man.” He lived in the half-timbered cottage nearly opposite Mr. Webster’s house in the village of Walton (near High Ercall), and I have heard an old inhabitant of Walton say that he had seen as many as six vehicles driven up to the cottage in a morning. This conjurer carried on a roaring trade for many years, and people sought his advice and assistance from places as remote as the Cheshire and Staffordshire borders, and even out of Wales.

Cock-fighters brought him their birds to charm, and paid him for putting spells upon their opponents’ feathered representatives; farmers sought his power to remove cattle disease; wives and maidens came to him for their fortunes to be told, and the losers of stolen goods made him their detective. There were two “reception” rooms in the cottage, into one of which Light always retired to consult the stars or hold intercourse with his familiar spirits. Sometimes he could be heard by his customers wrestling with some supernatural presence, and the rattling of chains of course suggested that the conjurer was wrestling with the Evil One himself. […]

Extract from a large-scale Ordnance Survey map showing some of the houses and other buildings (all shaded in pink) of Walton village. The road running through the village is also shown, along with field and garden boundaries, three ponds, and many trees along field boundaries, in some of the gardens, and in some of the fields. — Extract from an Ordnance Survey map (25 inches to the mile, Shropshire XXIX.10) published 1881, reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗. This does not show things exactly as they were when the tithe apportionment map for Ercall Magna parish was drawn up in 1838, but that earlier map tells us that John Webster lived at the property in parcel number 943 here, while Thomas Light (who “lived in the half-timbered cottage nearly opposite”) occupied the house in parcel 994.

Thomas’ obituary, published in the Shrewsbury Chronicle of Friday September 10th, 1841 (page 3), very much suggests that he put the ‘con’ into ‘conjuror’! It makes for an entertaining read, and I reproduce it here as published, save for splitting the text into more than the original two paragraphs:

Death of an Eccentric Character.—On Sunday last, at Walton, near High Ercall, at the age of 94, Thomas Light, better known by the sobriquet of “Tommy Light the Conjuror.” This eccentric individual had from an early period of his life been a professor of the “Mysterious Art of Conjuring,” which he continued to practice with considerable pecuniary advantage to the close of his days.

His personal appearance was of no common order, as he always strictly adhered to the peculiar character of dress in fashion about the middle of the last century: a stranger on meeting “Old Tommy” was instantly struck with the excessive originality of his manner and costume; clad in a light sky blue “coat of other days” with an extravagantly lengthened linsey vest with large flaps descending over scanty “continuations.”

This antiquated oracle usually attended the markets to render his prophetic advice and assistance to all whom he could find possessed of the two great requisites for the successful development of his mystic craft, viz. Faith and Money; and it speaks but little for the intellectuality of the age, when it is considered what numbers of persons were sufficiently ignorant and superstitious to consult him, in all the various matters which have generally been subjects for the divinations and prophecies of this now (thanks be to the schoolmaster) almost extinct race of conjurers and fortune-tellers. His professional career was not merely confined to his own locality, but he was frequently applied to by the credulous rustics of the neighbouring counties.

His conjuring propensities were at one time the means of giving him rather an awkward introduction to the magisterial bench at Wellington; a lad at Ketley having robbed his employer both parties secretly applied to the sage, the one for the means of safety from detection, the other to have the property returned and the offender punished. Having instructed the lad to replace part of the stolen treasure, he informed the other that part of the missing property would be by his powers replaced.

The trick however having been detected by the parties, and it being suspected that he had received a large fee out of the missing cash, “Tommy” was pulled up before the magistrates and was committed to take his trial at the sessions, but was afterwards bailed out by a relative, to whom it is said he took a hundred sovereigns as security; he was however finally acquitted, but this had evidently the effect of making him more cautious in his future proceedings.

Among the many eccentric incidents of his life was that of purchasing a wife, who afterwards resided with him until death dissolved the unhallowed bargain. From this time her daughter by a legitimate husband superintended his domestic affairs, until at an advanced age she was accidentally burned to death.

Some time before his death, he gave several considerable sums of money, and has since willed further sums to different parties; a few days ago, several sovereigns and guineas were found among some old iron in a chest, in his dwelling, and many are of the conjectures that a horde yet remains to be discovered on the premises he occupied, which consisted of a cottage, orchard and garden, the property of the Duke of Cleveland.

“Old Tommy” was the oldest tenant on his Grace’s Ercall Estates. This extraordinary character possessed considerable originality of mind, and an exceedingly retentive memory, and remained in full possession of his mental faculties until the period of his death.

Searching the records for ‘Young Tommy’ (as I find myself thinking of the boy who grew up to become Tommy the Conjuror) I found that “Tho Son of Tho Light of Walton was baptized September ye twenty third” in 1748 at High Ercall. Depending on how soon after his birth he was baptised, Thomas would have been 92 or 93 years old when he died, not 94 as reported in the press. 92 was the age entered in the High Ercall burial register when Thomas was buried on 8 September 1841.

Just three months before his demise, Thomas was enumerated at Walton on the 1841 census. His age was recorded as 90 (rounded down to the nearest five years as was generally the case for adults on that year’s census) and he was of independent means (a status recorded as “Ind”). Living with him was a female servant, Jane Dabbs, age 55. His near neighbour Mr John Webster, mentioned above, was a 70-tear-old farmer. All were said to be natives of Shropshire.

Did any residents of Waters Upton avail themselves of Old Tommy’s mystical (or more likely, mythical) ‘services’ during his long life? I don’t think we will ever know for certain. At the very least, I’m sure he was the subject of many a conversation in the village’s hostelries, during his lifetime and for many years after!

Extract from an old Ordnance Survey map showing the settlements of (from West to East) Walton, High Ercall, Osbaston, Rowton, Moortown, Sleap, Crudgington, and Waters Upton. — Extract from an Ordnance Survey map (1 inch to the mile, Sheet 138 – Wem) published 1889, showing Walton to the West and Waters Upton to the East. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland ⇗ under a Creative Commons licence ⇗.

Waters Upton 1921: a post-war parish (part 2)

Posted on November 12, 2023 by AtcherleyOrgUK

⇐ Part 1

Edgar Percy Davies now retraced his steps back along the village road, heading towards and then beyond the church. Soon he was passing the White House, his destination being the next house along.

Number 11 was occupied by newcomers to the village, the Rowberry family. Thomas Henry Rowberry may well have served during the war – there are two sets of medal award records (one from the Machine Gun Corps and one from King’s Royal Rifle Corps), either of which might be his, but no pension index/ledger cards or surviving service record to confirm this.

Beyond number 11 lay the semi-detached residences numbers 10 and 9, headed respectively by (post-war incomers?) Joseph Ralphs and his son Frank Ralphs. I am not aware of any wartime military service being undertaken by members of this family, but it would not surprise me if Frank or one (or more) of his brothers had served.

Why did the enumerator cross the road? To collect the household schedules on the other side. Number 31 (Clematis Cottage) was the home of Arthur Ball and his sister Elizabeth Emma, neither of whom had connections with military service that I know of. The same cannot be said of the next house however.

Photo showing two names on a brass memorial plaque listing men of Waters Upton parish who died while serving in the Great War: Private W. James, K. Liverpool Regt., Private J. H. Jones, Royal Welsh Fusiliers.

At number 32 lived widower Charles George, along with two of his daughters, both war widows, and their children. Jane’s husband William James, a native of Waters Upton, I have already mentioned (his mother lived at number 23 Waters Upton). Kate’s husband John Herbert Jones was a Liverpudlian, who was killed in action while fighting with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers in France. A few years after this census was taken Jane and Kate would both emigrate, with their children, to start new lives New Zealand.

On went enumerator Davies to numbers 33 (William and Matthews) and 34 (William Edward Morgan and family), and then, after crossing road, to number 8. The occupant of this house, Alfred Ridgway, I have already mentioned (his first cousin Charles, the blacksmith, lived at number 15). Alfred, a carpenter and wheelwright, had two sons who, despite having no medals to show for it, had ‘done their bit’ during the war: William George Ridgway (Devonshire Regiment and Labour Corps) and Alfred John Ridgway (Royal Garrison Artillery).

Back across the road to Malt House Farm and, just to the North of that, Lower House Farm, both occupied by (unrelated, as far as I know) Powell families. These farming families had no wartime military connections that I know of, but one of the servants at Lower House Farm did: Thomas Hall (who would marry his employer’s sister in 1922) served with the Royal Army Veterinary Corps. His brother, Pryce Hall, also played his part in the Great War. Having emigrated to Australia in 1912, Pryce served with the Australian Imperial Force from 1915.

On leaving Lower House Edgar Davies continued along the road, which now left the village of Waters Upton, and headed towards Harebutt Bank. He called next on number 39, which was occupied by the Cartwright family. John, the head of the household, had no military record but his younger brother James did. James Cartwright enlisted with the Monmouth Regiment, then transferred to the South Wales Borderers after entering France with the British Expeditionary Force. He was discharged after receiving a gunshot wound to the left thigh in 1917, and died in 1919.

Photo of a Poppy flower, with large, scarlet petals and dark centre. — *Poppy. Public domain (CC0) image by Travel Photographer, from negativespace.co*

Edgar had already visited one home where relatives of John Evans lived (number 25), and now he called on another, number 40, where John’s uncle and aunt Samuel and Martha Evans lived. After that, he went to Harebutts Farm (number 38), home of the Casewell family. The Casewells’ servant, agricultural worker Alan Furnivall, had joined the Royal Flying Corps in 1917 and transferred to the RAF on its formation in 1918. Alan worked on aircraft rather than flying them, and he was discharged in 1920 with a record featuring a long list of civil convictions and prison sentences.

As he began to head back towards the Waters Upton village, Edgar the enumerator collected a final schedule from a Harebutt Bank household (The Harebutts, number 37, home of John Stanley Morgan and family). Then he continued along the road, past Lower House Farm, and turned left onto Catsbritch Lane.

On the right as he entered the lane was a dwelling divided into three, numbers 7, 6 and 5. These households were occupied by Elizabeth Matthews (at number 7), Frank and Annie Battman (at number 6), and William Beech with his wife Elizabeth and son Thomas (at number 5). Thomas Beech had been a Private with the Shropshire Yeomanry and then a Driver with Royal Field Artillery during the Great War, while his brother Henry Eddowes Beech (now living elsewhere) had emulated the latter part of his service.

Just a little further along Catsbritch Lane and on the same side of the road was a terrace of four houses where Waters Upton’s street numbers began: number 4 (Charles James and family), number 3 (Ernest Edward Austin and family), number 2 (Joshua Cartwright and family), and number 1 (Thomas Bennett and family). All but one of these (number 3) houses had connections with military service in the Great War. Of those three, two have already been mentioned: Charles James at number 4 (a brother of Thomas James at number 23, of John James and the late Williams James, and a brother-in-law of William’s widow Jane James at number 32), and Thomas Bennett at number 1 (a brother of Alfred, George and Charles Edward Bennett at number 17).

That leaves number 2 Waters Upton, the last household Edgar Davies would visit in which a family member had been lost during the war: Joshua and Priscilla Cartwright’s son John Thomas Cartwright was killed in action while fighting with the Cheshire Regiment during the Second Battle of the Somme on 27 March 1918.

Photo showing the last name on a brass memorial plaque listing men of Waters Upton parish who died while serving in the Great War: Private J. T. Cartwright, Cheshire R. Beneath that name is inscribed: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

A little further along Catsbritch Lane, and set back from it on the other side, was The Grange Farm (number 41?). The head of this household was Ferdinand Heyne, a naturalised British Subject born in Germany. Ferdinand was a pork butcher in Shrewsbury from at least 1901 until 1913 (when he listed in that year’s Kelly’s Directory) and possibly a little later, but not in 1917. Had anti-German sentiment during the war pushed him out of the town and into the countryside?

The next house at which Edgar Davies stopped to collect a census schedule was number 48. I must admit that I’m not entirely clear about the numbering along Catsbritch Lane, but I suspect that number 48 was the cottage now known as Manor Lodge, which sits beside one of the entrances to Waters Upton Manor (which might be number 49). It was occupied by James Evans, his wife, and their children, one of whom was John Evans. John had enlisted with the RAF in July 1918, just 11 days after his 18th birthday and a little over three months before the war ended.

At the Manor itself – not that it was named (or numbered) on the schedule – was Arthur Lea Juckes. Arthur had a little military service to his name, in the form of a brief spell as a Lieutenant with the Surma Valley Light Horse in India, but that was in 1898. During the Great War he took on another role, chairing military tribunals at Wellington – and ruthlessly enforcing the rules under which men could be conscripted.

As he got closer to The Terrill, the end of our enumerator’s tour of Waters Upton was nearly over. He visited number 42 (farmer Richard Allen and his housekeeper – was this Melverley House or Linden Lea?) and then number 44 (Thomas Edward Harris and family; I’m guessing that number 43 – Grange Cottage? – was unoccupied).

Photo of a Royal Engineers cap badge. It is bronze in colour. In the centre are the ornate initials G. R. (the King), surrounded by a belt with a barely legible inscription. Above that is a crown. A wreath extends from the bottom (where a banner bears the words Royal Engineers) and up both sides. — *Royal Engineers cap badge. Public domain image from getarchive.net*

Edgar Davies’ penultimate house call was to number 45, The Terrill Farm, occupied by septuagenarian farmer William Woolley, his wife Emma, two of their daughters, and three visiting relatives. Four of William’s sons had participated in the Great War: George Woolley (Yorkshire Regiment and Labour Corps), Robert Woolley (Canadian Royal Engineers), Frederick Woolley (Royal Engineers), and William Woolley (Royal Field Artillery).

Finally came number 46, a cottage just North of the Terrill Farm (number 47, a little further to the North, was most likely unoccupied). This was the home of widow Sarah Cartwright and two of her grandsons, one of whom was Geoffrey Henry Cartwright. It appears that Geoffrey first enlisted with the Black Watch (possibly before the war), then fought with the Worcester Regiment (when he was wounded at Gallipoli), and went on to serve with the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Regiment and finally, post-war, with the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry (Territorial Army). He was the third resident of Waters Upton parish to declare himself as being out of work – all three were former servicemen.

Life went on in Waters Upton after the First World War, as it did elsewhere, but without those who paid the ultimate price to help deliver victory over the Central Powers, and with many who came home bearing physical injuries, mental scars, memories of battle which would never fade. Directly and indirectly, the lives of many of Waters Upton’s inhabitants were forever changed. More than a century later, we remember those who died, those who returned, and the families and communities they belonged to.

Waters Upton 1921: a post-war parish (part 1)

Posted on November 12, 2023 by AtcherleyOrgUK

Taken two and a half years after the end of the Great War, the census of 1921 provides a picture of what life was like in that conflict’s aftermath. In this look at the parish of Waters Upton at the point when that census was taken, my main focus is on the households which were impacted by military service.

Photo of the three most commonly awarded medals of the First World War. From left to right: A 1914-15 Star (a four-pointed star of bright bronze, with crossed swords, surmounted with a crown; the ribbon has bands of red, white, and finally blue)); a British War Medal (a silver disc bearing an effigy of the head of King George V; the ribbon has a wide central orange band, on each side of which are narrow bands of white, then black, and finally blue); a UK Victory medal (a bronze disc, with the winged, full-length, full-front, figure of 'Victory,' or 'Victoria'; the ribbon has a central stripe of red, on each side of which are further stripes of yellow, then green, then blue, and finally purple). — *Pip, Squeak and Wilfred. Photo credit: Europeana 1914-1918 project photo, taken from* Wikimedia Commons ⇗ *and adapted, used, and made available for reuse under a* Creative Commons licence ⇗.

47 households in the parish of Waters Upton returned census schedules to the enumerator on the morning of Monday, 20 June 1921. In 15 of those households (a fraction under 32%) there were one or more occupants who had served with the armed forces during the Great War. Three of those households also had one or more occupants with immediate family members, by then dead or living elsewhere, who had served.

In another 13 (or 27.7%) of Waters Upton’s households which did not fall into the above category, there were one or more occupants with immediate family members (husband / son / father), by then dead or living elsewhere, who had served.

Taking these two categories together, at least 59.6% of Waters Upton’s households (28 out of 47) had occupants with direct or close connections to wartime military service – including five with immediate family members (seven men in total) who were killed during the war or died shortly afterwards. “At least”? Well, there was one more household which included someone who I suspect was an ex-serviceman. There may also have been others amongst those who came to village after the war. And it is quite possible that other households included occupants with immediate family members whose service I am not aware of. Further information boosting the total (and percentage) above may yet come my way.

Of the remaining 19 Waters Upton households, three had one or more occupants with more distant family members who served: a nephew, a first cousin, and a first cousin once removed. Another had an occupant who contributed to the war through involvement in military recruitment.

Enough of the numbers. Let’s meet the people and the families of Waters Upton whose lives were never quite the same after the first world war – and let’s do that by following the enumerator for the parish, Edgar Percy Davies, as he visited the homes of Waters Upton and collected the householders’ census schedules. This will provide us with brief introductions to the families of the parish in 1921, and to most of those individuals from the parish who served during the war. I hope to expand upon these introductions in future posts.

Edgar first called on the pubs and houses situated alongside the Wellington to Market Drayton road, starting with the southernmost, the Lion Inn (number 16 Waters Upton). Here, Lucy Price is our person of interest. She had two sons by her first husband, both born at Waters Upton, who had served during the war: Henry Wylde (King’s Liverpool Regiment and Labour Corps) and Albert Wylde (Royal Navy).

Next was number 23, home of widow Anne James and her adult children Thomas and Lizzie. Three of Anne’s sons had enlisted: John James (Royal Field Artillery), William James (The King’s Liverpool Regiment), and the aforementioned Thomas James (Shropshire Yeomanry). Sadly, William died on 17 November 1917 from wounds received while serving in France. Edgar Davies would later call at William’s former home, number 32, where his widow and sister-in-law were living; he would also visit the home of another James brother, Charles, at number 4.

Heading briefly up the main road running through the village took Edgar to number 22, another household with an ex-serviceman: John Picken was a Sapper with the Royal Engineers during the Great War.

Returning to the Wellington to Market Drayton road and crossing it took our enumerator to number 17, a house occupied by three former soldiers. Alfred Bennett had served with the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry, while his brothers George Bennett and Charles Edward Bennett had both been members of the Royal Army Service Corps. Edgar would later visit their brother Thomas Bennett (who had not served) at number 1 Waters Upton.

Photo showing three names on a brass plaque commemorating men from Waters Upton who served in and survived the Great War: Private Charles E. Bennett, R.A.S.C. M.T; Private William Bennett, R.A.S.C. M.T; Private Alfred Bennett, 8th K.S.L.I.

Back across the road to the Austin family at number 21 and then to number 24 next door, the abode of former Private (with the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry) Thomas Cartwright.

Next was number 20, also known as Sutherland Cottage. This was the home of Samuel and Mary Anne Woolley, two of their sons, and their only surviving daughter. Three sons were no longer at home, two of whom had been military men during the war: Robert Ernest Woolley was demobbed at a Sergeant in the Middlesex Regiment; Hubert Victor Woolley was still with Military Foot Police (and was enumerated at Cologne in Germany with the British Army of the Rhine).

After one final trip across the Wellington to Market Drayton road (to the Beeches, number 18) and back, Edgar Davies visited the last house in this part of Waters Upton village, the Swan Inn (number 19). Minnie Harper Owen was the innkeeper here, with her sister Emma Louisa Pierce providing domestic help. Emma was a widow, but not (as far as I can tell) a war widow. The sisters did have a connection to military service in the recent war however: their brother Charles Gordon Owen had been a Sergeant in the Royal Horse Artillery.

After he left the Swan, enumerator Davies headed up River Lane to the main road through the village, where he turned left and arrived at the Rectory (number 27). William Astbury Meakin, the rector, had not taken part in the war but his son, the Rev George Astbury Meakin, had briefly served with the Royal Army Medical Corps.

The next port of call was The Hall (number 28), home of Ernest James Fisk, who had ended the Great War as a Major in the Royal Field Artillery.

Photo showing two names on a brass plaque commemorating men from Waters Upton who died while serving in the Great War: Lieut. G. H. Davies, 3rd K. Shropshire L. I; 2nd Lieut. W. L. Davies, 7th K. Shrops. L. I.

Crossing the road and walking past the parish church took Edgar Davies to the White House (number 12). Of all the households in Waters Upton, I think it is fair to say that this one had contributed most to the war. This was the home of Susan Anslow Davies, widow of rector John Bayley Davies. Five of this couple’s sons had gone to war: Arthur John Davies (Royal Navy), Walter Llewelyn Davies (King’s Shropshire Light Infantry), Reginald Wynyard Davies (Royal Army Medical Corps), George Herbert Davies (King’s Shropshire Light Infantry), and Andrew Taylor Davies (Gurkha Rifles).

Two of the Davies brothers did not come home. George Herbert Davies was killed in action at Hooge on 9 (some sources say 10) August 1915; Walter Llewelyn Davies died of his wounds at the Somme on 15 July 1916. Annie May Davies, living at home with her mother, had served during the war too – she was awarded the Royal Red Cross Second Class in 1918 “in recognition of [her] valuable services with the British Forces in Mesopotamia” with Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service Reserve.

Photo of a badge of the Royal Red Cross, Second Class. The badge is in the shape of a golden cross, with a circular medallion at its centre, bearing an effigy of the King's head. The ribbon, in the form of a bow, is dark blue (that colour appears black in this image) with crimson edge stripes. — *Royal Red Cross Second Class. Image credit Auckland Museum, licence CC BY.*

Crossing the road again took our enumerator to an abode which was not numbered on the schedule; it appears to have been in the vicinity of The Hall and might have been what is now either 29a or Groom’s Cottage. Another Woolley family lived here: John, Fanny, and their son George Woolley, a “Discharged Soldier” who had been working for Lady Mary Herbert but was now out of work. During the war George had been a Gunner with the Royal Field Artillery. His brother Thomas Woolley had served too, with the Army Service Corps; in 1915 he gave his father John’s address as “Oldhall Cottages” in Waters Upton.

The next residence visited was number 29, where Joseph Shakeshaft had one of the more distant connections with wartime military service: his first cousin Joseph Baxter Shakeshaft, born at Waters Upton in 1885, had toiled with the Labour Corps.

The Crescent (Crescent House, number 30) was Edgar’s next stop. Frederick Walter Godfrey Starling was probably a post-war resident of Waters Upton; he brought with him memories of being a Private with the Army Service Corps.

After he left The Crescent, enumerator Davies doubled back to visit the houses in the vicinity of the smithy – he could have saved himself some legwork by turning right when he entered the main street from River Lane. The village blacksmith was the first person called upon on this little detour: Charles John Ridgway lived at number 15, next to his workplace. Charles was another resident whose connections with those who had served during the war was more distant. That connection was with two of his first cousins once removed. They were sons of Charles’ first cousin Alfred Ridgway at number 8 Waters Upton, so I will mention them later.

Photo of a King’s Shropshire Light Infantry cap badge (or, as my caption for the image original said, cap badger. The Imperial war Museum describes this as a "Bi-metal badge in the form of a stringed bugle-horn (in white metal) within the cords of which are, the brass letters 'KSLI' on bars." — *King’s Shropshire Light Infantry cap badge. Public domain image from getarchive.net*

Across the road to number 25, home of James Buckley and his family. James had enlisted with the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry in 1910 so he was already in the Army when the Great War began. His brother-in-law John Evans had also served – Edgar Davies would call at John’s home, and meet another of John’s relatives, later.

Continuing back along the village road and crossing it once more to our enumerator to numbers 14 and 13, both inhabited by former soldiers. At the first house was John Halford Ferrington, formerly of the Royal Engineers, and his family; next door at number 13 lived Hannah Cartwright with her niece Gertrude Tudor and nephew Ernest Samuel Tudor. Ernest was another ex-military man (Cheshire Regiment and Labour Corps) who was now unemployed.

The last of this group of houses near the smithy, on the other side of the road, was number 26, the home of war widow Edith Mabel Parry and her three children. Edith’s late husband Edward Lewis Parry, formerly Waters Upton’s grocer and sub-postmaster, was killed in action in Northern France on 30 September 1918 while fighting with the Lancashire Fusiliers.

Photo showing two names on a brass plaque commemorating men from Waters Upton who died while serving in the Great War: Private E. Parry, Lancashire Fus.

Part 2 ⇒

Waters Upton One-Place Study

A One-Place Study of the parish of Waters Upton in Shropshire, England

The Cold Hatton Association for the Prosecution of Felons

Kinship, continued: The Waters Upton ‘Big Tree’

In support of the school at Waters Upton

Waters Upton in World War 2: Dorothy Tudge, Land Girl – Part 2

Waters Upton in World War 2: Dorothy Tudge, Land Girl

A Man Found: Thomas Plant, of the Parish of Waters Upton

A Man Missing: Thomas Plant, of the Parish of Waters Upton

Finding Folklore in and around Waters Upton

Waters Upton 1921: a post-war parish (part 2)

Waters Upton 1921: a post-war parish (part 1)

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: