Spotlight On ... Working For A Living

The Bonny Cravat Inn: where generations of my family worked for a living.

When I think about the different ways generations of my family worked for a living, some stories gather around a farm, a trade, an occupation or a small piece of land. This story however gathers around an inn.

The Bonny Cravat Inn at Woodchurch, Kent, in England became, for generation after generation on the paternal side of my family, a place of work, endurance, and family continuity.  It was not simply somewhere my ancestors appeared briefly in the record.  It was a workplace woven through the lives of the Ramsden, Fullagar, Hukins, and later Bourne families for well over a century.

  The Bonny Cravat Inn, Woodchurch, Kent
— a place where generations of the Ramsden, Fullagar, and Hukins families worked for a living.

Source: “The Bonny Cravat, Woodchurch” by Oast House Archive, via Geograph, licensed CC BY-SA 2.0.

This was no ordinary inn.  By the time members of my family began keeping it, the Bonny Cravat was already old.

Edward Hasted, writing in his History of Kent and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent (Volume 7 of the 1798 second edition), noted that Phebe Goble of Woodchurch, by will in 1692, left a charitable bequest of £2 per year to the poor to be paid by her heirs forever, from a farm called the Bonny Cravat, “now an ale-house”. 

I love that passing reference because it gives such an early glimpse of the place.  Long before it became part of my family story, it was already there in village life in the 17th century.

The building that stands today belongs mainly to the later part of the inn's story. The National Heritage List for England lists the present Bonny Cravat as a Grade II building dating from about 1800, and the Woodchurch conservation material notes it as a prominent inn in the village, opposite the church.  So, the business itself is much older than the surviving structure. 

That feels fitting somehow.  The place of work endured, even as the people and the building changed around it.

The list of Bonny Cravat Innkeepers and Publicans sourced from the Woodchurch Local and Family History site using records compiled by the Woodchurch Ancestry Group.

When I first came across this list of innkeepers and publicans associated with The Bonny Cravat, I did not just see names in sequence. I saw husbands and wives working side by side, widows carrying on after loss, sons following fathers, brothers taking their turn, and one village inn becoming part of my family’s working life across generations.

Woodchurch 1902 - The Bonny Cravat Inn on the left
Source: Woodchurch Local and Family History site 

A family workplace in the heart of Woodchurch

One of the things that stands out most strongly in the record of innkeepers is the repeated evidence of partnership.

My paternal 7th great-grandparents George and Mary Ramsden née Eastland were both part of the inn’s story. 

So were my paternal 6th great-grandparents John and Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter. 

In a later generation came my paternal 4th great-grandparents John and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. 

Then, decades later, my paternal 3rd great-grandparents James and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar took their place there too.

Again and again, the same pattern repeats. Not simply a publican, but a couple. Not only a man’s occupation, but a household economy.  An inn like this was never run by one person alone.  There were customers to serve, stock to buy, food and drink to prepare, rooms and fires to manage, accounts to keep, neighbours to receive, children to raise, and all the ordinary messiness of life going on in the background.

This record makes that shared labour unusually visible.  The women were clearly part of the story, often carrying on after a death because there was no real alternative.  That is one reason the widows stay with me so strongly in this story: 

Mary Ramsden née Eastland. 

Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter.  

Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. 

Mahala Bourne-Rolfe née Chacksfield.

Their names are not mere interruptions in a male line of innkeepers.  They are part of the real substance of the story.  Each represents a woman who kept both household and business together at a difficult moment, because the work still had to be done.  Family history so often lets a woman slip into the background, but here they stand plainly in view.

The long family connection - Ramsden, Fullagar, Hukins, Bourne.

The first recognisable names on the list of innkeepers are direct ancestors -

• George Ramsden, my 7th great-grandfather, kept The Bonny Cravat for thirteen years from 1706 to 1719. 

• After his death, Mary Ramsden née Eastland, his widow and my 7th great-grandmother, continued from 1719 to 1720. 

Later came direct ancestors and distant cousins from the Fullagar and the Hukins families. For close  to 90 years, from 1734 to 1820, the running of the Bonny Cravat passed largely between these two families.

Listed innkeepers from the Fullagar and Hukins families are highlighted with hearts

The Fullagars carried a long stretch of the inn’s history. 

• John Fullagar, my 6th great-grandfather, appears for twelve years from 1734 to 1746.

• After him came Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter, his widow and my 6th great-grandmother, who ran the inn for four years.

• The inn then passed to John Fullagar, son of John and Elizabeth and my 5th great-grandfather, from 1750 to 1758.   He would not have worked alone either.  His wife, Sarah Fullagar née Gilham, my 5th great-grandmother, would have been part of that working household.  Sarah was the granddaughter of George Ramsden and Mary Ramsden née Eastland, the first of my ancestors connected with the inn, so the knowledge and habits of innkeeping may well have run through the family as naturally as any inheritance.

• Later, the inn returned again to yet another John Fullagar, my 4th great-grandfather and son of John and Sarah Fullagar née Gilham.  He ran the inn for twenty-one years from 1782 to 1803.

• Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne, his wife and my 4th great-grandmother, continued running the inn for thirteen years after the death of her husband, from 1803 to 1816. Once again, no doubt she had been working alongside her husband during his years at the inn.

• The son of John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne, Thomas Fullagar, then took over from his mother in 1816 and ran the inn for four years.  Thomas, whilst not a direct ancestor, was my 3rd great-granduncle.

• Samuel Fullagar appears from 1856 to 1865.  Again, whilst not a direct ancestor, he was my 3rd cousin 4x removed, great great-grandson of the first of my Fullagar ancestors who ran the inn - John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter. 

The Hukins family formed another thread. 

• John Hukins, my 5th great-grandfather, kept the inn for seventeen years from 1758 to 1775, and he too was almost certainly supported by his wife, my 5th great-grandmother, Elizabeth Hukins née Howe.

• John was followed by his brother James Hukins for seven years from 1775 to 1782.  Whilst James was not a direct ancestor of mine, he was my 5th great-granduncle. 

• Decades later the inn returned to both the Hukins and Fullagar families through James Hukins and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar, my 3rd great-grandparents, who were there for thirteen years from 1824 to 1837.  

Susannah was the sister of Thomas Fullagar, and the daughter of John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. James was the grandson of John Hukins and Elizabeth Hukins née Howe.  By then the family connections around the inn had become dense and interwoven.

Another view of the Bonny Cravat Inn at Woodchurch,
the village inn that remained part of my family's working life for generations.

Source: “Bonny Cravat – Front Road, Woodchurch” by Brian Chadwick, via Geograph, licensed CC BY-SA 2.0.

Another branch of that wider story - Bourne - appears in the 1850s. 

• Edmund Bourne, my 2nd cousin 4x removed, ran the inn for four years from 1852 to 1856.  He entered the Bonny Cravat story through marriage to Mahala Rolfe née Chacksfield, the widow of Henry Rolfe. 

What makes this part of the story especially striking is that Mahala had already been keeping the inn on her own for three years after her first husband Henry’s death. (Henry Rolfe had been the innkeeper from 1845 to 1849, undoubtedly supported by Mahala). Again, Mahala was not simply a name bridging one male innkeeper to another. For those years after the death of her first husband, she held the business together in her own right, before Edmund married her and joined the next phase of the inn's working life. 

Although Mahala was not a blood relative of mine, she belongs with the other widows in this story who kept the Bonny Cravat going when life could easily have pushed everything off course.

The work behind the names

What I love most in stories like this are the small details that remind us what the work may actually have looked like. 

• A Kent Archives publication, drawing on Woodchurch parish records for 1765, notes that John Hukins, innkeeper at the Bonny Cravat, was paid “beer for buryings” at local wakes. That tiny detail is one of my favourites because it brings the inn to life. It reminds us that this was not simply somewhere people came to drink. It was part of the village’s social fabric — present even at moments of mourning.

That wider role matters. 

• In villages like Woodchurch, an inn was rarely only a drinking house. It was a meeting place, a landmark, somewhere people heard news, settled arrangements, and crossed paths with neighbours. Standing opposite the church, the Bonny Cravat sat right at the centre of village life.

There is another layer to that history too — one that gives the Bonny Cravat a darker edge.

• Local tradition links the inn with smuggling in the eighteenth century, and that its strange and memorable name may have come from a French vessel remembered as La Bonne Crevette or La Bonne Corvette, in contradiction to the information in Hasted's text. 

Inns such as the Bonny Cravat sat where so many worlds met: respectable village life, hard-earned daily labour, travel, gossip, business, and sometimes things less lawful. 

• Smuggling was rife in Kent in the eighteenth century and continued into the nineteenth, and by the 1820s the district around Woodchurch was associated with men from the gang led by George Ransley, better known through the history of the Aldington Gang. In October 1826 Ransley and others were captured, and the gang’s members were later tried on capital charges.

During the years when James and Susannah were running the Bonny Cravat, they would almost certainly have known of the local smuggling world, even if only through village talk. 

• Stories remembered later say that the Bonny Cravat itself was sometimes used as a courtroom, and that proceedings connected with captured smugglers were held there. Perhaps that is a village memory rather than hard fact, but even as memory it is vivid and revealing. It suggests how closely public life, danger, and daily work could intersect in one place.

There are other old tales attached to the inn as well.

• One says the cellar, still used for beer, once connected by tunnel to the nearby church, perhaps with origins reaching back to the Reformation. Another recalls condemned smugglers being hanged outside the inn after trial. Whether every detail survives exactly as it happened or not, these stories cling to the Bonny Cravat because it was clearly one of those places where village life was lived at close quarters — not neatly or gently, but vividly.

An honest reminder about risk

One detail in particular stops this story from drifting into nostalgia. The Bonny Cravat was not just some picturesque old public house or quaint place where my family members lived and worked.  It was also the place where debts had to be met, and where the rougher edges of local life came right up to the door.

• In 1837, James Hukins appeared in connection with relief for insolvent debtors, a reminder that keeping an inn was never a guaranteed road to security. Family history can sometimes make an old inn sound comfortably picturesque, but for the people living it, it was work tied to risk, debt, and uncertainty.

I think that is central to the story. The Bonny Cravat was a place of continuity and family labour, yes — but it was also part of a precarious economy in which fortunes could shift quickly.  Bills still had to be paid.  Stock still had to be bought.  Losses could mount.  A bad run could undo years of effort.

By the end of 1837, my 3rd great-grandparents, James and Susannah, found themselves in dire circumstances and were in severe financial trouble. They could no longer continue at the inn and a mere two years later they were preparing to emigrate.  

From Woodchurch to Australia

One part of this story did not end in Woodchurch.

When my 3rd great-grandparents James Hukins and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar left the village and emigrated to Australia in 1839 with their family, the Bonny Cravat story took on a longer reach. In one sense, the inn itself was left behind.  But in another, the habits and knowledge shaped there travelled with them.

I find that continuity especially moving, because the family's connection to public-house life did not disappear in Australia. Two of their sons — my 2nd great-grandfather Adolphus Hukins and my 2nd great grand-uncle John Hukins — were both running pubs in Australia in the 1850s.

There is something remarkable in that. A family shaped for generations by the life of one village inn in Kent carried that working knowledge across the world. What had been learned at Woodchurch was not lost.  It became part of the family's Australian story as well.

Seen that way, the Bonny Cravat was more than a village inn attached to one side of my family tree. It was a workplace woven deeply into my family's life, part of a tradition of labour that crossed generations and, eventually, continents.

Sources and notes

With thanks to the local historians and record keepers whose work helps bring places like the Bonny Cravat back into view:

This post draws on a family document, Innkeepers and Publicans of The Bonny Cravat, based on material from the Woodchurch Local and Family History site and records compiled by the Woodchurch Ancestry Group.

This post also uses Edward Hasted, The History and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent, 2nd edition, volume 7 (Canterbury: W. Bristow, 1798), in the Woodchurch section under “Charities,” which preserves an early reference to the Bonny Cravat as an ale-house.

Additional context comes from Kent Archives, Issue 15 (Autumn 2019), which quotes a 1765 Woodchurch parish record noting John Hukins, innkeeper at the Bonny Cravat, being paid for supplying “beer for buryings.”

Sheelagh? Sheedagh? Sheedy? McNamara ... It's A Brick Wall!

Brick walls pop up on my family tree when researching Irish-born ancestors born before 1800.  Irish civil and parish records can take you back to the second quarter of the 19th century, but before that there are very few records still in existence.  

Civil registrations of births, marriages and deaths did not begin in Ireland until 1864. Prior to that, there were Church records in the form of registers of baptisms, marriages and burials, but you need to know the relevant parish for your ancestors before attempting to access these records.  Even then, not all these registers survived and there can be large gaps in many of the parish registers that did survive.

If you're lucky, you might have oral history that's been passed down through the generations, but I've found that even that is not always based in fact.  Researching ancestors and their families living in Ireland before the 19th century is such a hit-and-miss affair. 

One of the brick walls on my paternal side is the parentage of my 3x great grandmother, Margaret McNamara.  The only clues I've been able to use during my research are the names recorded on Margaret's assisted immigrant record when she emigrated here to Australia in 1840 with her husband James Hickey and seven children.  

Assisted immigrant records, for those who were making the voyage to Australia, were completed before boarding, at the point of departure.  These records provided quite a bit of information about the people who were about to set foot on a particular ship.  For my 3x great grandmother Margaret and her family, these records were completed at the port of Cork in 1840 before they all boarded the ship named Adam Lodge.

New South Wales, Australia, Assisted Immigrant Passenger Lists, 1828-1896
- Passenger:  Margaret Hickey   Arrival date: 14 Feb 1840

There is a section for the recording of the names of the immigrant's parents, as well as their place of origin.  In that section, this is the information recorded at the point of departure for Margaret:

When I enlarged this entry and looked at it very closely, it appeared to say:

"Da of  (daughter of) Sheelagh McNamara and Ellen Hogan, his wife there".  At least, that's my understanding of the handwriting.  

It was interpreted in exactly the same way when transcribed many years later in the state's record office:

To my mind though, there is a problem with Margaret's father's name recorded in this way.  To me, "Sheelagh" is a women's name, and when I've googled it, the results are always the same:  feminine.  Surely "Sheelagh" would not be the first name of Margaret's father!  

This name must have been misspelt by whoever recorded the information at the port in Cork.  Of course we have to remember, it's likely that Margaret was illiterate and didn't know what the registrar was writing down, and perhaps Margaret didn't even speak English very well and the registrar interpreted what she said inaccurately!  

Other members of my extended family who have undertaken lots of research, have hinted that the name was definitely misspelt, and should be something more like "Sheedagh", which sounds more masculine!  Looking closely at the handwriting, that letter after the double 'ee' does not look like the letter 'd' to me though.

I did google the first name 'Sheedagh', but that led to the name of a lake.  There is apparently a Lough Sheedagh near Connemara in County Galway; but I doubt that Margaret's father was named after a lough, or the other way round!

I've checked Margaret's death certificate, hoping there might be clues on that, but the informant (her grandson) did not appear to have any knowledge of his grandmother's parents, as the column for recording parent names has "not known" written there.

In an effort to clarify Margaret's father's first name, I have used websites like Ancestry.com, Find My Past, Family Search and Roots Ireland to search for a baptism record using just the details of Margaret's name - Margaret McNamara - and her mother's name - Ellen Hogan.   

I've searched for a Margaret McNamara who was likely born around 1802 in either County Clare or County Limerick, deduced from dates & places on records like the immigrant passenger list and the death certificate. 

I've also searched for a record of the marriage between Margaret McNamara and James Hickey, to see if that provided any clues.

Sadly, this all led nowhere.  No luck whatsoever!

Other extended family members' research has come up with the train of thought that perhaps Margaret's father's name was recorded as two surnames - the first indicating which particular clan of McNamaras he was descended from.  Let me explain further ...

According to a 4th cousin of mine who travelled to Ireland to research the Hickey line (remember Margaret McNamara married a James Hickey), he ended up having a conversation with a McNamara descendant during that visit.  This descendant told my cousin that the surname was actually "Sheedagh or Sheedy McNamara", and that Sheedagh / Sheedy was not a Christian / first name at all in this case.

According to this source of information, my McNamaras are of the Sheed or Sheedy branch of the McNamara clan.  That set me off searching sites once more for a baptism record for a Margaret Sheedy with Ellen Hogan as her mother.  No luck once again.  

It's been a wholly unsuccessful enterprise and I'm no closer to finding out whether or not my 3x great grandmother Margaret's father is actually Sheelagh, Sheedagh or Sheedy McNamara.  How is it spelt? 

One positive gained after all this effort however, is that I've discovered quite a lot about the history of the McNamara surname.

The surname McNamara is the anglicized version of an ancient Irish surname - Mac Conmara.  The Gaelic Mac Conmara means "son of the hound of the sea" . 

 

The MacNamara clan are descendants of the 10th century chieftain Cú Mhara, of the Dál gCais tribe from County Clare.  His name was derived from "cu" meaning a hound, and "na mara" meaning of the sea.  His son Domhnall  adopted the surname Mac Conmara, or son of Cu Mara, around 1099, becoming the first MacNamara.   

 

The MacNamara family were one of the most powerful families in the Kingdom of Thomond  (roughly Counties Clare, Tipperary, Limerick and Waterford) as Lords of Clancullen.  County Clare was their stronghold. 

 

They held the hereditary position of chief functionary to the only other powerful family line, the O'Briains.  One of the McNamara's most prestigious duties was to preside at Magh Adhair during the inauguration ceremony of the Kings of Thomond.  

 

The MacNamaras built dozens of castles or tower-houses, abbeys and forts in County Clare during the 14th and 15th centuries.  Many are still standing today, including Bunratty Caste (built in 1425), Knappogue Castle (built 1467) and Quin Abbey (built 1433). 

 

The MacNamara clan split into two distinct septs or branches.  There was the MacNamara Fion who held the Chiefdom of Clancullen / Cuiléin West (Barony of Bunratty), and the MacNamara Reagh who ruled the East (Baronies of Upper and Lower Tulla).

MacNamaras ruled their territories until the 17th century when Oliver Cromwell's men overpowered them.  They lost their power and their titles and many fled Ireland at that time, settling in France.  It has been calculated that of 293 families of the name living on their lands in 1654, only 6 were allowed to retain part of their estates.

The Sheedys were descended from the great house of the McNamaras. It's possible that the Sheedy line began with Sioda / Siodha McNamara (apparently the Gaelic Síoda means 'silken', 'soft-spoken' and is pronounced SHEE ugh da) who began the building of  the present structure of Bunratty Castle back in the 1400s.  His son was known as Ó Síoda, son of Sioda, and this form became a surname.  This later became anglicized into MacSheedy or Sheedy. 

 

Apparently, the surnames Sheedy and McNamara were used interchangeably or even together as one surname.  In the 1840s there were specific family members who were appointed leaders of the regional clans.  Their first name would be dropped, and they would just be known as Sheedy McNamara.  

It's fascinating stuff, but unfortunately has not led to a clarification of my ancestor's name.  I will however continue my quest, researching all the various spellings, and continue chipping away at this particular brick wall. 

The Story of Mary Ayears (Airs)

My post this week tells the story of my paternal Great Great Great Great Grandmother, Mary Ayears  or Airs  (1770 - 1858).

Before proceeding with Mary's story, I'll add a cautionary note ... she has been a troublemaker when it comes to my ability to uncover loads of definitive, accurate information about her life.  

First of all ....

Researching an ancestor who was born in England the same year as Beethoven and Wordsworth can be a very hit and miss affair, as civil registration was only introduced in 1837.  

The period before 1837 is often referred to as the pre-Victorian era (as Queen Victoria ascended the throne mid-1837) and anyone attempting to trace their English ancestors during this period basically needs to rely on church registers.  

Unfortunately these church records contain far less genealogical information than the civil records and were handwritten, making them quite hard to decipher most of the time.  

Second of all ...

I've found that the surname Ayears appears to have different variations, spelt in a few different ways including 'Ayers' and 'Airs'.  This has led to a long, long road of assumption and guessing when it comes to records relating to my 4x great grandmother!  I've spent many, many, many months trying to cross-reference with family trees on Ancestry.com and as many records as I could find on several sites such as Family Search and Find My Past.  It's been a messy and confusing journey.

Thirdly ...

I've found that researching female ancestors going back two generations and more is always a little troublesome.  The details of their lives are rarely captured in the records that are available, unless you're fortunate enough to have treasures such as diaries or family stories passed down.  All I've managed to uncover are a few facts from a couple of very short periods of time - between 1797 and 1808, and then between 1851 and 1858.  So here's what I think I know about parts of Mary's story!

When Mary Ayears was born around 1770, her father Samuel Ayears was around 20 years of age, and her mother Mary Vicary was about the same age.  

Old Church of St Mary Major - with the square tower
By Beatrix F. Cresswell (1862-1940) - httpwww.archive,orgdetailsexeterchurches00cres, 
Public Domain, httpscommons.wikimedia.orgwindex.phpcurid=41190059

My research led me to a baptism record showing a Mary Airs was baptised at the Church of Saint Mary Major in Exeter, Devon, England in August of 1770.

I don't have an exact date of birth for this Mary, and I admit I followed information from family trees on Ancestry.com to track down this record.  

Whether or not it's really my 4x great grandmother is probably debatable, but other information leads me to believe it's quite likely.

Later records, which are definitely more reliable,  indicate that Mary was likely born around 1768, so that places the Mary Airs from this baptism record at approximately the right time.  Records of Mary's marriage later on and the baptism records for her children show that all these events happened in Exeter, so again I think it's highly likely that Mary herself was born and baptised in that same town.




Around 1770, Exeter was a economically powerful city with a very strong trade of wool.  The reigning monarch at this time was King George 111, and it was in August of 1770 that Captain James Cook claimed the entire east coast of New Holland for Great Britain.  It was of course later to become Australia, and the home for descendants of one of Mary's daughters Anne (known as Nancy) my 3x great grandmother, and for descendants of her grandson Joseph Hutton.


Apart from a possible birth year, baptism date, baptism place, and parent names, I have no information at all about Mary's childhood.  The next fact I do know, and am sure about, is that Mary Airs/Ayears married John Littlejohns in December of 1797 when she was around 27-29 years old.  On the marriage record, Mary's maiden name was spelt as 'Ayears'.

According to information sourced from other descendants' family research, Mary and John already had three children before they married.

Well, the assumption is that these are John's children as well as they were given the surname of Littlejohns.

Son Henry was born in 1794, but sadly died when he was less than a year old.
Daughter Frances, known as Fanny, was born in 1795.
Daughter Mary Ann was born in April of 1797.

Interestingly, Mary's father, Samuel Ayears, died on the 14th of December 1797; and Mary married on the 19th of December.

I could make all sorts of assumptions about this fact, one of which would be that Mary had been living out-of-wedlock with John for a number of years likely as a result of her father's objection to the match.  Mary was however old enough to marry without her father's consent, so I'm not sure that would be an accurate assumption.  Anyway, very shortly after father's death, Mary seems to have married the father of her children.

After the marriage of Mary and John in December that year, the family grew.

Jane was born mid-1800, but unfortunately passed away in September.
Anne, known as Nancy, Littlejohns (my 3x great grandmother) came along in November of 1801, when Mary was aged around 31-33.
John was born in May of 1803, but he died in February the following year.
John Edwin was born in 1807.  Mary was now around 37-39 years old.

By the year 1808, out of the seven children that Mary gave birth to, there were three daughters and one son who had survived their infancy.  

It's very difficult to glean information about Mary's adult life around the time of and after the birth of her children, but clues from records later on point to the fact that it's likely Mary, her husband John and their family of four, had a hard life and were probably amongst the poorer class in Exeter society.

John worked as a 'fuller', often referred to as a 'tucker', which was not a well-paying job and the conditions of employment were very tough.  A fuller (tucker) worked long hours every day.  It was their job to clean wool cloth during the cloth making process to eliminate dirt and oil, and make it thicker.  Before the cloth got to the fullers (tuckers) it was soaked in urine!  John's job would have been back-breaking and extremely unpleasant.

I imagine Mary worked in some lowly, poorly paid job in the mills of Exeter as well, but I have not yet found any proof of that, and likely never will. Records of women's working life from that era are rare.

Mary and John were married for about 44 years until John died sometime around 1841.  Mary was aged around 71-73 at that time.

By then, Mary's eldest daughter Fanny was a widow as well.  She had married Joseph Perkiss Hutton, and had given birth to three children, but only two had survived into adulthood.  Fanny's son Joseph, Mary's grandson, had been transported to the colonies ten years earlier at the young age of 17.  He had in fact been sentenced to death, but his conviction had been commuted to transportation for a period of 14 years.  In reality, transportation to Australia really was a life sentence.  He lived out the rest of his life in Australia and probably had very little contact with either his mother or his grandmother Mary.

Mary's youngest daughter Anne (known as Nancy) had married William Henry Browning almost twenty years before, in the same church as Mary and John.  By 1841 though, Anne was in Australia, having migrated with her husband and six children.  She lived the rest of her life in the colonies, far away from her mother.

By 1851, ten years after the death of her husband, Mary was living in the Almshouses in Exeter, with another daughter Mary Anne Harris (nee Ayears).

1851 Census - St David's, Exeter, Devon, England

Mary was recorded as being an "Almsperson / Tucker's Widow".  Almsperson basically meant "one who is dependent on the receipt of alms", a "a pauper". The census record indicates she was now aged 83.  She was living in the Atwills Almshouses on New North Road in Exeter, with her daughter Mary Anne who was listed as an "Upholstress".  It seems that daughter Mary Anne's husband had died by this time, as she was now living with her mother.

An excerpt from the book 'A Topographical Dictionary of England' published in 1833 states:

"Atwill's almshouses were founded and endowed by the corporation, with the arrears of Mr. Atwill's charity in 1717, for fifteen aged woollen manufacturers, appointed by the corporation:  the annual income of this charity amounts to about £320."

Almshouses were generally houses or property left to a parish by a community-minded benefactor who was acting philanthropically, and were outside government control.  People who were accepted into these almshouses were approved in some way.  They would no have been vagrants or outcasts, but were likely to have been regarded as respectable and part of a network of obligation which ensure their admission.  

In Mary's case, she was the widow of a 'tucker', another name for a fuller, and the Atwill's Almshouses were by that time earmarked for "poor and aged" woollen trade workers as mentioned in the excerpt from information on the website Genuki: Almshouses, Devon, Exeter, 1850:

ATWILL'S ALMSHOUSES, in New North road, are neat stone dwellings on an elevated site. In 1588, Lawrence Atwill left about 320 acres of land, and several houses, &c., in the parishes of St. Thomas, Whitstone, and Uffculme, to the Corporation of Exeter, upon trust to apply the yearly profits thereof in setting the poor to work. As the charitable intentions of the testator could not be strictly or beneficially carried into effect, a new scheme was sanctioned by the Court of Chancery in 1771, directing that in future the rents and profits of the charity estate should be applied in the erection and support of almshouses for the reception of poor aged woollen weavers, &c., of the city, who should be provided with looms, &c., and small weekly stipends. Accordingly, 12 almshouses were built in 1772. In consequence of the increased income of the charity, these almshouses were enlarged in 1815, at the cost of £425; and again in 1839, at the cost of £160. They are now occupied by 24 almspeople, who are provided with coals in winter; but only 16 of them have weekly stipends of 2s. 6d. each, and none of them are provided with looms. The charity estate is let to fifteen tenants, at rents amounting to about £250 per annum, and large sums are occasionally received for the renewal of leases and the sale of timber.

I believe that Mary and her daughter Mary Anne were two of the 24 almspeople mentioned as living in the Atwill's Almshoues in 1850, and it's likely neither of them were receiving the weekly stipend.  It's more likely that Mary was relying on the income of her daughter to provide food and other essentials.  On a positive note though, at least they had a home, more or less guaranteed, and were provided with coal in winter!

This is photo of the almshouses from around 1900, which is a little while after Mary was living there but certainly gives an idea of what the almshouses looked like during Mary's time as a tenant.

There were 24 houses (more akin to flats) in 3 blocks that were designed in a gabled Tudor style.

The 'houses' were likely to have consisted of one or two rooms with a fireplace.  It would have provided Mary and her daughter with a private space so they would have been able to live quite independently, despite their economic dependence.

Mary died at the Almshouses in April of 1858 at the age of 90, as indicated on her death certificate.  The cause of death was listed as "natural decay", so it sounds as though she was not ailing in any way or suffering at the end of her long tough life.

She was buried five days later in the Parish of St. David and her death notice, albeit brief, does describe her as "greatly respected by all who knew her".

Mary was survived by her three daughters, Frances Hutton nee Littlejohns, Mary Anne Harris nee Littlejohns, Anne (known as Nancy) Browning nee Littlejohns; and her son John Edwin Littlejohns.

The Story of John LittlejohnS

First of all ... what a fabulous name!  This is the story of my paternal Great Great Great Great Grandfather, John Littlejohns  (1772 - 1865).

I'll start by talking about that surname!  In the long list of my ancestors' surnames, this particular one certainly stands out.  Compared to all the other surnames in my family tree, this one does feels out of place.  There's an immediate association that comes to mind when hearing this surname ... Robin Hood's rather large companion!

Little John was Robin's lieutenant, his second-in-command, and his name was one of three mentioned right at the start of the story-telling, in the earliest ballads about Robin Hood.  His surname was simply a whimsical reference to his size.

So what about the surname of my ancestor, and his father before him?  The information is scant on the topic of the origin of this surname, other than mentioning that it's one of a large number of surnames dating from the Medieval Period with the prefix 'Little'.  It supposedly was used as a means of endearment or explanation, to suggest a younger son or daughter who was much loved.

Another interesting point is that apparently those with the surname Littlejohns (with an 's') lived mostly in the West Country of England; whereas those with the surname Littlejohn (without the 's') resided in Scotland.  My ancestor has the 's' on his surname and did indeed hail from the west country.

There is one other fascinating fact that I can't resist sharing.  The year of my 4x great grandfather's birth was the same year that Captain Cook began his second voyage aboard the ship The Resolution in search of Terra Australis ... the great southern continent where I was born!

A rare photo of the old Church of Saint Mary Major

When my 4x great grandfather John was born in 1772, his father Henry Littlejohns was 31 and his mother Sarah Cleave was 27.

John was baptised in February of 1772 at the original Church of Saint Mary Major in Exeter, Devon, England.  It no longer stands, as it was demolished in 1865.


There was only one sibling alive at that time of John's birth.
Elizabeth had been born in 1767.
Sally came along in 1769, but had died in 1771.

When John was aged 4, another sister Sarah was born in 1776.  Sadly, she died the following year.
In 1778, Mary was born, when John was 6 years old.
So it seems that John grew up with just one older sister, and a younger sister.

Exeter sits on the River Exe in Devon, south-west England.



At the time of John's birth, it was an economically powerful city based on a history of strong trade in woollen cloth.  This industry employed thousands of people.

In the early 1770s, Celia Feinnes (A Scotswoman who kept a journal as she journeyed on horseback around England) remarked on the "vast trade" and "incredible quantity" in Exeter, recording that "it turns the most money in a week of anything in England", between £10,000 and £15,000.  

Celia stated that the "whole town and country is employed for at least 20 mile around in spinning, weaving, dressing and scouring, fulling and drying of the serges (woollen cloth)."

This was certainly true for John.  By the age of 13, the U.K. Register of Duties Paid for Apprentices' Indentures (1710-1811) record shows an entry for John Littlejohns in February of 1785.  He was apprenticed to a man named Edward Pim in Exeter, Devon as a 'fuller'.  John had followed in the footsteps of his father Henry, who was also a 'fuller', and (according to family stories) worked right up to the day of his death when he was aged 89.

According to Wikipedia:  "Fulling was a step in woollen cloth making which involves the cleansing of cloth (particularly wool) to eliminate oils, dirt, and other impurities, and to make it thicker. The worker who does the job is a fuller."

https://www.tuckershall.org.uk/hall/history/processes/14-fulling-or-tucking

Fulling Mill 1764

A quote taken from the website 'Exter Memories: Exeter's Woollen Industry'.

The Fulling Mills
The finishing of the cloth was centralised at Exeter - the abundance of water power in a small area allowed the mills to finish the cloth, ready for export. Before fulling, the cloth was soaked in stale human urine, which contains ammonia and fuller’s earth to aid the process. This process would cleanse the wool of oils, dirt and other impurities and thicken the fibres by matting the surface texture. Every night, urine was collected from taverns, inns and houses by men from the 'piss cart'. The wool was pummelled with large square wooden hammers, or fulling stocks, tripped by wooden cams, directly driven by the water wheel. 


The more I read about the occupation of 'fuller' (sometimes referred to as 'tucker'), the more I became convinced that it would have been hard, laborious work in an environment that would have reeked with the stench of urine.

In 1788, when John was 16 years old, his mother Sarah died.  She was only aged 43 at the time.  It must have been a devastating blow for John's father Henry, as well as John's sisters Elizabeth (aged 21) and Mary (aged 10), and indeed John himself.  I imagine the small family became even closer.

It seems John was still apprenticed to Edward Pim (spelt Pym this time) in 1792, at the age of 20!  That does seem like rather a long apprenticeship, but perhaps that's how it was back then.  The record states that John Littlejohns was of the St. Edmund Parish in Exeter, Devon.

St. Sidwell's Church, Exeter

Just a few years later, John married Mary Ayears at St. Sidwell's Church in Exeter, on the 19th of December 1797.



John was 25 years old, and his bride was 27.



I have found records for, or evidence of (from other family descendants), seven children born to John and Mary.  I have also found records that show at least four were baptised at St. Sidwell's Church.






Henry was born in early 1794, but sadly died before he was one year old.
Frances (known as Fanny) was born in 1795.
Mary Ann came along in 1797.
Jane was born on the 15th of June in 1800, but sadly passed away a mere three months later.
Anne (known as Nancy), my great great great grandmother, was born in November of 1801.
John was born in May of 1803, but sadly, he too died in 1804 when he was less than a year old.
Another son, named John Edwin, was born in July of 1807.  At that time, my 4x great grandfather was aged 35.


I know very little of John's adult life beyond these facts.  I have not yet been able to find evidence of his year of death, or where he was buried; nor have I found out what happened to his wife Mary, or his only surviving son John Edwin.

His three surviving daughters included Anne (known as Nancy), my 3x great grandmother, who emigrated to Australia with her family in 1840, and the immigration record indicates that both her parents were alive at this point.  John would have been in his late 60s by that stage.


Special Note to any family members:  If you have memories to add, photos or information to share, can I graciously ask that you do so.  Please use the comments box below or email me.  It may prove to be invaluable to the story and provide future generations with something to truly treasure.