THE GOOD OLD DAYS IN GRAND BAY-WESTFIELD
The Olde Kirk Cemetery By Murray F. Gault
One of the greatest pleasures in a young man’s life is the pursuit or courting of a pretty girl. After I met and started to court Hilda Greer who was later to become my wife, I found that I was being educated to be a country boy by her and was introduced to the area of Sagwa and Nerepis where she was born and brought up. She took me on a hike on a trail that began in her mother’s backyard at Nerepis. The trail went past a small lake which she called Mathers Lake and continued for a couple of miles until we came to the Brittain Stream, a large brook that ran from Capple Lake into Robin Hood Lake. The trail followed the hillside on the back side of Robin Hood Lake and soon came to the “Dardanelles” as I found the stream between Robin Hood and Little John Lakes was called. The only Dardanelles that I had ever heard of ran from the Sea of Marmara into the Aegean Sea between Bulgaria and Turkey. Hilda’s uncle, George Greer had a camp on Robin Hood Lake which he would let us use on occasion and a rowboat came with it so we could row to the other end of the lake where there was a lovely sand beach where we could swim.
Another pastime we engaged in was fishing in the small local streams for brook trout, which I had never done before. One day she took me to a brook that she called Camp Nature Brook at Nerepis. Why it was called Camp Nature I couldn’t understand as there was no “Camp” to be seen. After we had fished for a while she said, “Come with me, I want to show you something,” so she started walking up a trail from the brook. We shortly came to a deserted graveyard in the midst of the woods with the trees as large as pulpwood growing through the whole thing. I found this very interesting and wandered among the tombstones, trying to read the names and dates on them. I don’t remember what I found there at that time and soon forgot all about it.
After writing the column about Loch Alva and the old foundations that I had come across in the outback of Westfield and the road to Grand Bay through the woods, I received several calls from people, two of which told me that the old road in the article continued all the way to Prince of Wales. This prompted me to start thinking of other unusual things that I had come across in my youth. The deserted graveyard came to mind, so I drove to “Camp Nature” and pulled in beside the brook and tried to find the tombstones. However, I am not twenty-two anymore and soon became tired and out of breath, so I had to leave without any success.
Shortly thereafter I thought of Tom Laderoute who was a second cousin of Hilda’s and had grown up on the Brittain Road. Tom is one of those people who know a little about everything and a lot about other things. I felt if anyone could find the graveyard, Tom could. I soon got in touch with him and he told me he knew exactly where the place was and had been there recently. We agreed to meet at the junction of the old road and the new bypass at Nerepis. I arrived before Tom who soon showed up with a 4×4 truck, so I got in with him and we crossed the new #7 highway and went in a woods road just where they are cutting the woods out for the Welsford bypass. It wasn’t very far until Tom said we were just above the old graveyard and we walked down to it. This time I was going to get names and dates and try to figure out why it was in such disrepair. Tom told me that at one time, before he and I were born, there had been a Presbyterian Church on the old road and this cemetary was part and parcel of that church. His mother had told him that they just called it the “Old Kirk”. The place certainly didn’t look familiar to me, but many of the trees had been cut down, the efforts of a well wisher, a Mr. Kinney, who had passed away just a few years ago. But the worst part of the whole scenario was the desecration of the tombstones, most had been pushed over and laid face down on the ground so that the inscriptions could not be seen and others had disappeared altogether. Tom thought that people had stolen them for doorsteps or patios. Of the few that were standing, I read the name William Henderson, born 1819 -died 1898. Another was Maggie Henderson, born 1851 – died 1898 – Aggie Henderson born 1857 – died 1919. Also Samuel Parks, born 1790 – died 1864 -Ann Hunter (could not read the dates), the lichen and moss had done an excellent job of hiding most of the inscriptions. But there was Duffy Brittain – died 1870 and Leonard Brittain born 1850 -died 1903, perhaps the family that the Brittain Road was named for. Another name was John Godfrey – born 1822 – died 1900, his wife Catherine born 1841 – died 1919 and the last one I saw was James MacDonald born 1845 – died 1899. The year 1919 seems to be the last time anyone was buried here and it had already fallen into disrepair when Hilda and I were there in 1954. Tom felt that the land now belonged to the United Church.
Some of the people buried here may have been Loyalists, given large tracts of land by King George III for their loyalty to the crown. Others may have been wealthy from forestry or professional pursuits, but most were probably farmers making a living from the land and livestock. Whatever their status in life, rich or poor, tall or short, honest or crooked, they were all equal now. I felt very insignificant and realized that no matter what I had accomplished or what I had accumulated was of little significance a hundred years from now as no one would even remember me.
Therefore I have resolved not to take myself too seriously for the ambiance of the graveyard had moved me to realize how short is our time here on this earth.
The Olde Kirk Cemetery
Tom Laderoute at Olde Kirk Cemetery
One of the greatest pleasures in a young man’s life is the pursuit or courting of a pretty girl. After I met and started to court Hilda Greer who was later to become my wife, I found that I was being educated to be a country boy by her and was introduced to the area of Sagwa and Nerepis where she was born and brought up. She took me on a hike on a trail that began in her mother’s backyard at Nerepis. The trail went past a small lake which she called Mathers Lake and continued for a couple of miles until we came to the Brittain Stream, a large brook that ran from Capple Lake into Robin Hood Lake. The trail followed the hillside on the back side of Robin Hood Lake and soon came to the “Dardanelles” as I found the stream between Robin Hood and Little John Lakes was called. The only Dardanelles that I had ever heard of ran from the Sea of Marmara into the Aegean Sea between Bulgaria and Turkey. Hilda’s uncle, George Greer had a camp on Robin Hood Lake which he would let us use on occasion and a rowboat came with it so we could row to the other end of the lake where there was a lovely sand beach where we could swim.
Another pastime we engaged in was fishing in the small local streams for brook trout, which I had never done before. One day she took me to a brook that she called Camp Nature Brook at Nerepis. Why it was called Camp Nature I couldn’t understand as there was no “Camp” to be seen. After we had fished for a while she said, “Come with me, I want to show you something,” so she started walking up a trail from the brook. We shortly came to a deserted graveyard in the midst of the woods with the trees as large as pulpwood growing through the whole thing. I found this very interesting and wandered among the tombstones, trying to read the names and dates on them. I don’t remember what I found there at that time and soon forgot all about it.
After writing the column about Loch Alva and the old foundations that I had come across in the outback of Westfield and the road to Grand Bay through the woods, I received several calls from people, two of which told me that the old road in the article continued all the way to Prince of Wales. This prompted me to start thinking of other unusual things that I had come across in my youth. The deserted graveyard came to mind, so I drove to “Camp Nature” and pulled in beside the brook and tried to find the tombstones. However, I am not twenty-two anymore and soon became tired and out of breath, so I had to leave without any success.
Shortly thereafter I thought of Tom Laderoute who was a second cousin of Hilda’s and had grown up on the Brittain Road. Tom is one of those people who know a little about everything and a lot about other things. I felt if anyone could find the graveyard, Tom could. I soon got in touch with him and he told me he knew exactly where the place was and had been there recently. We agreed to meet at the junction of the old road and the new bypass at Nerepis. I arrived before Tom who soon showed up with a 4×4 truck, so I got in with him and we crossed the new #7 highway and went in a woods road just where they are cutting the woods out for the Welsford bypass. It wasn’t very far until Tom said we were just above the old graveyard and we walked down to it. This time I was going to get names and dates and try to figure out why it was in such disrepair. Tom told me that at one time, before he and I were born, there had been a Presbyterian Church on the old road and this cemetary was part and parcel of that church. His mother had told him that they just called it the “Old Kirk”. The place certainly didn’t look familiar to me, but many of the trees had been cut down, the efforts of a well wisher, a Mr. Kinney, who had passed away just a few years ago. But the worst part of the whole scenario was the desecration of the tombstones, most had been pushed over and laid face down on the ground so that the inscriptions could not be seen and others had disappeared altogether. Tom thought that people had stolen them for doorsteps or patios. Of the few that were standing, I read the name William Henderson, born 1819 -died 1898. Another was Maggie Henderson, born 1851 – died 1898 – Aggie Henderson born 1857 – died 1919. Also Samuel Parks, born 1790 – died 1864 -Ann Hunter (could not read the dates), the lichen and moss had done an excellent job of hiding most of the inscriptions. But there was Duffy Brittain – died 1870 and Leonard Brittain born 1850 -died 1903, perhaps the family that the Brittain Road was named for. Another name was John Godfrey – born 1822 – died 1900, his wife Catherine born 1841 – died 1919 and the last one I saw was James MacDonald born 1845 – died 1899. The year 1919 seems to be the last time anyone was buried here and it had already fallen into disrepair when Hilda and I were there in 1954. Tom felt that the land now belonged to the United Church.
Some of the people buried here may have been Loyalists, given large tracts of land by King George III for their loyalty to the crown. Others may have been wealthy from forestry or professional pursuits, but most were probably farmers making a living from the land and livestock. Whatever their status in life, rich or poor, tall or short, honest or crooked, they were all equal now. I felt very insignificant and realized that no matter what I had accomplished or what I had accumulated was of little significance a hundred years from now as no one would even remember me.
Therefore I have resolved not to take myself too seriously for the ambiance of the graveyard had moved me to realize how short is our time here on this earth.
Shortly thereafter I thought of Tom Laderoute who was a second cousin of Hilda’s and had grown up on the Brittain Road. Tom is one of those people who know a little about everything and a lot about other things. I felt if anyone could find the graveyard, Tom could. I soon got in touch with him and he told me he knew exactly where the place was and had been there recently. We agreed to meet at the junction of the old road and the new bypass at Nerepis. I arrived before Tom who soon showed up with a 4×4 truck, so I got in with him and we crossed the new #7 highway and went in a woods road just where they are cutting the woods out for the Welsford bypass. It wasn’t very far until Tom said we were just above the old graveyard and we walked down to it. This time I was going to get names and dates and try to figure out why it was in such disrepair. Tom told me that at one time, before he and I were born, there had been a Presbyterian Church on the old road and this cemetary was part and parcel of that church. His mother had told him that they just called it the “Old Kirk”. The place certainly didn’t look familiar to me, but many of the trees had been cut down, the efforts of a well wisher, a Mr. Kinney, who had passed away just a few years ago. But the worst part of the whole scenario was the desecration of the tombstones, most had been pushed over and laid face down on the ground so that the inscriptions could not be seen and others had disappeared altogether. Tom thought that people had stolen them for doorsteps or patios. Of the few that were standing, I read the name William Henderson, born 1819 -died 1898. Another was Maggie Henderson, born 1851 – died 1898 – Aggie Henderson born 1857 – died 1919. Also Samuel Parks, born 1790 – died 1864 -Ann Hunter (could not read the dates), the lichen and moss had done an excellent job of hiding most of the inscriptions. But there was Duffy Brittain – died 1870 and Leonard Brittain born 1850 -died 1903, perhaps the family that the Brittain Road was named for. Another name was John Godfrey – born 1822 – died 1900, his wife Catherine born 1841 – died 1919 and the last one I saw was James MacDonald born 1845 – died 1899. The year 1919 seems to be the last time anyone was buried here and it had already fallen into disrepair when Hilda and I were there in 1954. Tom felt that the land now belonged to the United Church.
Some of the people buried here may have been Loyalists, given large tracts of land by King George III for their loyalty to the crown. Others may have been wealthy from forestry or professional pursuits, but most were probably farmers making a living from the land and livestock. Whatever their status in life, rich or poor, tall or short, honest or crooked, they were all equal now. I felt very insignificant and realized that no matter what I had accomplished or what I had accumulated was of little significance a hundred years from now as no one would even remember me.
December 24th, 2009 at 12:54 am
Its good to see someone took a little intrest and cleaned some of the bush and trees out of The Old Kirk.I was last in there about 8 years ago it was pretty dense in there.Tommy was just a little fellow when i left there back in 1954.Its nice to read about the old days.I remember fishing Robin Hood and Little John and had a chance to stay at George Greers cabin a few times.Thanks Murray for the trip back in time.
December 31st, 2009 at 8:41 pm
Mr. Gault,
As someone who is very interested and proud of the early years of our community, I have been following your columns with a great deal of interest and amusement. Many names are familier to me through my mother’s and aunt’s (the Nase girls) stories of that time.
Coming from a family who has had a presence in this community before it was a community and owning a house that is 225 yrs old, ya’ tend to have a bit of old stuff jammin’ the place up!
Camp Nature belonged to Dr. MacIntosh, a former curator of the N.B. Museum on Douglas Ave. and a friend, Mr. Lovett. “Camp Nature”, according to my mother, was a beautiful little area just west of the bridge on RTE.177. The area was old growth trees and a carpet of moss. A small trail through the woods along “Camp Nature Brook” or Cunningham Stream lead to the train tracks in one direction and the present Rte. 177 in the other. There was a log cabin in the heart of the area and possibly a couple of smaller out buildings as well. I have a picture of the area I’ll take down to the town office for you to see. The present site isn’t quite as attractive.It is now occupied by the government pit.
I also have a picture of the “Old Kirk” somewhere, but, will have to go through a pile of photo’s to find it. My Grandmother told me once that the church was destroyed in a fire. I’m pretty sure it was a forest fire either pre-Westfield Fire or was actually a “finger” of the Westfield Fire(?) If you’re wandering around the old site in the spring or summer, the old stone foundation is still visable.
Peter Lohnes, “Mount Hope Farm”