Thursday, July 2, 2009
After joining the church he was seen holding street meetings in Dundee while the populace pelted him with stale eggs and vegetables. At times he was also found to be in opposition to the church authorities and later in life he immigrated to Salt Lake City. His wife, Ann Gall, was reported to have said, “We came here expecting to see the gilded towers of Zion, but found only mud dykes.” Disaffected with the church, they went to St. Catherines, Canada but unfortunately James died at 70 leaving Ann to live another ten years, dying in Minneapolis, Minnesota at 68. They had 11 children.
Where did the James and Ann Gardiner live in Scotland?
1808 Edinburgh James Gardiner birth
1818 Stonehaven, Ann Gall birth
1838 - 1840 Aberdeen Jane/James born
1848 - 1855 "7" Heans Lane, Dundee Richard/Matilda born
1855 Smalls Wynd, Dundee, Ralph born, 21 April
Aberdeen Robert Gardiner baptized 12 Sept
1856 Dundee Branch
1856 - 1866 "6" College Lane, Old Machar, Aberdeen (1858 - 1861)
1866 - 1873 Dundee 29 Rosebank Road, (1871 census)
Note: From 1848 - 1855 James Gardiner and his family lived at 7 Heans Lane, Dundee. Richard and Matilda were born there. Then they moved to Smalls Wynd, the next street over, where Ralph was born. Today this is the location of the University of Dundee. Smalls Wynd is still a street with university buildings. Heans Lane has been removed and a university building sits in its place.
I just found James in the valuation roll for 1855 on Heans Lane. It lists James a Tinsmith and a tenant occupier paying 3 pounds rent a year. I’ve included a photo of the bay from the end of Small’s Wynd. The university is a couple of blocks from the water. Dundee is a blue collar area but the views are first class. The bridge you see in the distance takes one from Dundee and the Highlands to Edinburgh
How far apart are Aberdeen and Dundee?
All of these cities, Edinburgh, Stonehaven, Dundee and Aberdeen are on or near the coast.
How far apart are Aberdeen and Dundee? (Train every 30 minutes.)
1850 Dundee Directory:
1873:
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Attached are two clippings that identify when the S.S. Manitoban arrived at the Port of Quebec (James, Ann and Arthur Gardiner would have been aboard) and the Port of Montreal (James, Ann and Arthur Gardiner may still have been aboard or they may have disembarked at Quebec). My guess is that they disembarked at Montreal. N
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Attached are two clippings that identify when the S.S. Manitoban arrived at the Port of Quebec (James, Ann and Arthur Gardiner would have been aboard) and the Port of Montreal (James, Ann and Arthur Gardiner may still have been aboard or they may have disembarked at Quebec). My guess is that they disembarked at Montreal. N
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1873 James Gardiner arriving in Quebec on May 13, 1873 aboard the S.S. Manitoban.
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| Manitoban, 1866 |
Built by Laird Bros, Birkenhead in 1865 as the "Ottawa" for the British Colonial Steamship Co of London, she was a 1,810 gross ton ship, length 287ft x beam 35.2ft (87,47m x 10,73m), clipper stem, one funnel, three masts (rigged for sail), iron construction, single screw and a speed of 10 knots. There was accommodation for 25-1st plus steerage passengers. Launched on 13th May 1865, she sailed from London on her maiden voyage to Quebec and Montreal on 16th Aug.1865. After one more voyage on this route, she started a single round voyage between London and New York on 14th Dec.1865, and on 15th Sept.1866 started a single round voyage from Copenhagen to Gothenberg, Christians and and New York.
On 24th March 1867 she started her first voyage between Antwerp and New York under charter to the US/Belgian company, Hiller & Strauss. She made her third and last sailing on this service on 24th June 1867, and in 1868 was purchased by the Allan Line of Liverpool. She commenced sailing for this company on 19th May 1868 when she left Glasgow for Quebec and Montreal. Her last voyage on this service commenced 27th Sept.1871 and in 1872 she was rebuilt to 2,395 gross tons, lengthened to 338.8ft (103,25m), fitted with compound engines by the builders, and renamed "Manitoban".
She resumed Glasgow - Quebec - Montreal sailings on 23rd June 1872 and on 7th June 1876 commenced a single round voyage between London, Quebec and Montreal under charter to the Temperley Line of London. On 15th March 1879 she started her first Glasgow - Boston sailing and on 21st Nov.1884 her first from Glasgow to Philadelphia. She made a sailing from Bossekop in Alta, Norway on 4th February 1898 with 538 reindeer and 78 Sami people, (herders with their familys) for New York destined for Alaska and on 3rd December 1898 commenced her final voyage between Glasgow and Boston. She was scrapped in 1899. [North Atlantic Seaway by N.R.P. Bonsor, vol.1, p.312]
Research:
For information on Morgan House, a clue to James Gardiner's parents or the Morgan House Mistake
LDS.org - Ensign Article - Gospel Seeds in Scottish Soil
James Joins the Church from K on Vimeo.
1. In 1848 (probable date) James was baptized and confirmed a member of the church by W. Athol McMaster at Dunfirmline Branch (Dundee Branch Record FHL104150) For more: William Athol McMaster 30 Jan 1848 James ordained a teacher by Wm. Gibson (Dundee Branch records FHL 104150)
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3. 1861 re-baptized by W. S. Baxter
4. 1863 Ann Gall Gardiner baptized by Jno McBeath
This man baptized and confirmed James Gardiner:
Born Sept. 20, 1816, Greenock, Renfrew- shire, Scotland. Came to Utah Oct 1 1854, Daniel Garn Company. Member llth Ward Bishopric
William McMaster was a merchant in Salt Lake, and was the first rope-maker in Utah. He was a counselor of the bishopric in Robert's ward in Salt Lake. He was a polygamist and served a mission to Scotland later in 1868.
He is burried in the SLC Cemetery:
His wife was Margaret Drummond. She undoubtably knew James and his family.
She is buried in the SLC Cemetery:
From the University of Utah website:
Abstract: The William Athol McMaster Papers (1851-1869) consist of two copied diaries that detail McMaster's early life, conversion to the LDS Church, his LDS mission experiences, and his family's move to Salt Lake City, Utah. William McMaster (1816-1887) was an early Mormon convert in Scotland.
Biographical Sketch
William Athol McMaster was born 15 September 1816 at Greenock (?) Scotland. His father went to America in 1829 and did not return, so his mother moved her family to Paisley, where William and his brother were apprenticed to a rope and twine maker. There they worked the appointed seven years, and it was in Paisley that William was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on 15 April 1840. During the next decade, he married, had a family, and moved to Dunfermline (?) Scotland. All this time he was a very active member of the church, becoming a branch president, ministering to the sick, preaching to congregations and branches all over the area, and confounding the enemies of the Mormon faith.In 1851, he moved his family to Kendal, Scotland, preparatory to moving to America. They lived in Kendal until March 1854, when William and his family boarded ship in Liverpool and sailed for America. During the voyage, they suffered some hardship in the form of storms, calms, damage to the vessel, and a number of deaths among the passengers. After reaching the mouth of the Mississippi and New Orleans on 1 May 1854, hardship continued. Many of the members of his party were felled by cholera and other diseases, and riverside burials became commonplace. In July 1854, William and his family left "the Borders of the Priries" for Utah; William was in charge of ten wagons and one hundred Saints on the overland journey. During the four month journey across the plains, the party had their share of adventures: wagon breakdowns, lost oxen, encounters with Indians, disease, and other mishaps. One of William's sons died on the journey, and was buried on the side of Platte River. The McMaster family reached Great Salt Lake City on 1 October 1854, and settled in the 11th ward of the city.
After about a year of working at odd jobs, William returned to his occupation of rope and twine making and soon made a name for himself. In Utah, William joined the Nauvoo Legion, was ordained a High Priest in the LDS Church, and in general made himself at home in Great Salt Lake City. In 1868, William was sent back to Scotland to serve a mission, and stayed until the following year. William also embraced the doctrine of celestial marriage and had more than one wife, although it is not known how many wives or what any of his wives' names were, including his first one. William Athol McMaster died at Salt Lake City in 1887.
More information on this important missionary to our family:
Here is an interesting sidelight from:
A Short Sketch of the Life of
David Simpson Cook and Wife, Janet Hunter Cook
and
A Short History of Janet Hunter's Parents,
Robert Hunter and Agnes Hunter
David Simpson Cook and Wife, Janet Hunter Cook
and
A Short History of Janet Hunter's Parents,
Robert Hunter and Agnes Hunter
David Simpson Cook was born in Kingcardon, Pirthshire, Scotland, January 19, 1829. His parents were David Cook and Margaret Simpson, who were born in Dolar Parish in 1801, tracing back on a direct line of ancestors to the year 1690, when David S. Cook's second great grand parents were born. They were John Cook born 1690 and his wife, Janet White, born November 5, 1692. They were good, honest people, rearing large families of which we have a record.
David Simpson Cook never belonged to any other church until he joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in his native land of Scotland. He was baptized January 3, 1846 by William McMaster. Shortly after joining the church he was ordained to the office of teacher. This was in 1847; also to the office of elder in 1848 from which time he labored as a traveling elder until 1850 when he emigrated to the United States.
He set sail Saturday March 2, 1850 in the ship Hartly from Liverpool with 109 saints aboard of which he was president. They arrived at New Orleans on May 2, 1850, having spent exactly two months on the water. He stayed in St. Louis until 1851. While there he was chosen counselor to the President of the Gravies Branch of the church which office he held until he emigrated to Utah, arriving in Salt Lake City on August 1851.
30 Oct 1856 James was cut off from the church for rebellion, Dundee Branch, Dundee Conference.
16 Nov 1861 James is rebaptized by W. S. Baxter and confirmed 17 Nov. 1861 the same day by him as well.
For lots more information: William Baxter
Here is a picture of the William Shepherd Baxter:
From the Millenial Star:
Here are two people who were important to James Gardiner mentioned in the same article:
March 9, 1861, Millenial Star
Before James Gardiner left Dundee it may have looked somewhat like this:
(Dundee was known for Jam, Jute and Journalism, jute factory below:
Actual tin box made by James Gardiner:
1878 Death Record for James Gardiner:
Close up view:
City of St. Catharines Confidentiality Notice:
Good Morning,
Our records indicate that James Gardiner is buried here, but unfortunately it does not give an exact spot. It only says Protestant Singles section.
A lot of the older graves are like that.
Sorry I couldn't be more helpful
Regards,
Tammy
Mary and Frank feel strongly that it was not suicide. Both believe that he fell into the barrel of water and could not get himself out and drowned. Frank recalls one time, out at Malta, when he was reaching down into a hole, got out of balance, fell in and could not get out by himself.
Alfred Gardiner's Family bible courtesy of
Donald Gardiner:
1880 SLC:
Three parishes that were important to James Gardiner:
Reporting from Dundee, Scotland — One bright, rainy September, my mother and I walked from Edinburgh to Dundee. Every day we trekked about six to 11 miles, along a skull-gray coast, on ancient tracks and lanes recently united under the banner of the Fife Coastal Path. A work in progress, the path sometimes petered out into a cow field or a tumble-down castle on a bluff above the North Sea.
Though my mother was approaching 70 and I was close to 50, our relationship is a work in progress, full of twists and hairpin turns. And it had been ages since we had spent so much time together.
Like all trips involving more than one person, this one was built on compromise. It was a struggle to find a 10-day stretch to which both of us could commit. And for this trip, my mother wanted something familiar. Maybe an English-speaking country, where you could get a recognizable meal. I lobbied for economy and for a place I'd never been. We settled on a self-guided walking tour of southeastern Scotland; our luggage would be sent ahead each day to the next inn.
We walked along craigs (cliffs) and through harr (coastal fog); locals emerging from the mist were friendly but spoke as though their mouths were full of thistle. Whenever we asked directions or just said hello, these residents of Fife look alarmed. It turned out they couldn't understand a word we were saying either. For years my mother and I couldn't understand each other; now we were the only ones who could.
We shared a room every night, spent all day together on the trail and tried not to blame each other when getting lost added more miles to the day's total, or when our room at the end of the day was something to be endured rather than enjoyed.
One day, on the trail, my mother asked me one too many times to get something out of her pack and then put it back in. Digging into mymother's daypack started to feel queasily cozy, as if the zippered compartments were recesses in our own bodies. And later, when my mother couldn't find her medicine and started to freak out, I called her a catastrophist. For some reason she didn't appreciate this assessment. At dinner, conversation was strained.
The great thing about a walking tour is that you can literally walk it off, whatever it may be. Walking is powerful medicine — maybe the most powerful I know. And as we walked, it became both model and metaphor: By moving forward, one step at a time, we could get through anything. Or so we hoped.
Mother-daughter closeness wasn't all bad. A few nights later we were eating dinner at the Crusoe Hotel in Lower Largo. Three Dutch businessmen struck up a conversation. Sales reps for a paint company, they were part of a centuries-old tradition of trade between Scotland and the Netherlands. They were also excellent conversationalists and gallant flirts.
Walking back to that night's inn, I asked my mother, "How old do you think those Dutch guys were?"
"Wait," she said, though I wasn't pressing her. "I have to think."
I thought too, picturing each face. We walked half a block, the gentle slap of the waves still audible even as we made our way inland. "Ready," we both said at the same moment. When we laughed, even our laughs were of the same timbre and duration. We didn't come up with the same ages for the flirty Dutchmen, but our decision-making process was identical.
Putting one foot in front of the other, hour after hour, day after day, pulled us into the present like nothing else I've done. History was everywhere: in seaside caves graffitied with 5th century Pictish glyphs, in medieval castles featured in Shakespeare plays, in clearings where the last witch was burned in 1644. Where history is so palpable, death seems closer, inviting you to contemplate your own, or that of those closest to you.
At the 12th century churchyard in Crail, on a hill above the harbor, we admired the multicolored lichen on old stone walls. And we read headstone after headstone, as if looking for clues to our own mortality.
I could tell my mother was saddened by the short life spans on so many stones, and I reminded myself that the very time we were spending together was fast running out.
I joined her in front of a weathered stone for an 8-year-old girl who had lived and died more than 100 years ago. "Sometimes," I said, "I lay awake and think of how much of my life has gone by."
She laughed, because, of course, even more of her life had gone by.
"Is that silly?" I asked.
"Not at all. I do it all the time. I don't like the system at all."
"The system?" I asked.
"That you're born and then you die."
"Oh," I said. "That system."
On one of our last nights out, we ordered a bottle of wine and cullen skink, a thick stew of haddock and potatoes that smelled of the sea. My mother had a proposition. "People tend to dwell on the negative," she said. "I'm no exception. But let's do something. I'll tell you everything I appreciate about you, and you tell me what you appreciate about me."
Research notes:
I don't know. I checked the membership records to see who else was confirmed on 17 November 1861 and saw three names including James Gardiner so I concluded the other two were part of the eight. One of them was John or Jonathan McBeath. He became the Branch President. I remember him because he was the person who baptized Robert Gardiner the first time. Both James Gardiner and John or Jonathan McBeath were cut off in 1856. I think James was cut off for rebellion and McBeath for tithing. I don't know if Ann and Robert were ever cut off, but they both were rebaptized I believe. (This is all based on my faulty memory.) I haven't tracked done all the loose ends. N
Hi Kent
Your enquiry was forwarded by the City Archivist, Iain Flett. I am sorry for the tardy reply but I have just returned from holiday and am working my way trough back mail.
Anyway, I am afraid that your enquiry relates to a period beyond our normal research.
I did find a mention in the LDS web-site that James Gardiner and Ann Morgan had a son James who was born 23rd December 1807 and died 10th September 1878 in Edinburgh. Unfortunately this information was placed by a member of the LDS church and there is no index entry for this death in the Scottish records.
If you trace any further information I will happily try and pursue this for you.
Regards
Grant
December 13, 1862 Millennial Star
The relevant letter starts on the second page. Since there were only about 8 members of the Aberdeen Branch I am certain that the “Brother Gardner” referred to is our James Gardiner. He is the only Gardiner or Gardner on the membership records during this time other than Robert Gardiner who would have been a teenager. It is good to know that James was “warm-hearted” and “zealous”.
Close up of document above:
1880 SLC:
Three parishes that were important to James Gardiner:
Where did the Gardiner family live in Scotland?
1808 Edinburgh (James Tinsmith is born)
1838 – 1840 Aberdeen (Jane and James born here)
1842 Dundee (Richard born here)
1843 Aberdeen (Annie born)
1845-1856 Dundee (Robert, Richard, Matilda, Frederick and Ralph born here) (Ann baptized in Dundee Branch)
1851 Dundee (17 Hans Lane, census)
1858 – 1861 Aberdeen (Alfred and Arthur born here)
1861 Aberdeen Census: 6 Cottage Lane, Old Machar,
Robert 15 Pastry Cook (App) probably in Aberdeen 50 miles from the queen’s residence)
1866 James Gardiner moves his family from Aberdeen to Dundee
1868 Dundee (Robert home teaches Margaret)
1868 Dundee Robert immigrates via Liverpool (probably from)
1871 Dundee James living at 29 Rosebank Road,
(now a car repair place)(Census info)
1879 Dundee (Letter from James and Margaret 22 Kinboach St )
1880 Dundee (Brother and Sister James and Margaret Gardiner write a letter from No 22 Kinboach St)
Info on Wm. Gibson who ordained James to be a teacher:
Walking the Fife Coastal Path in Scotland
A mother and daughter walk and talk it out.
April 01, 2012|By Erin Van Rheenen, Special to the Los Angeles Times
Reporting from Dundee, Scotland — One bright, rainy September, my mother and I walked from Edinburgh to Dundee. Every day we trekked about six to 11 miles, along a skull-gray coast, on ancient tracks and lanes recently united under the banner of the Fife Coastal Path. A work in progress, the path sometimes petered out into a cow field or a tumble-down castle on a bluff above the North Sea.
Though my mother was approaching 70 and I was close to 50, our relationship is a work in progress, full of twists and hairpin turns. And it had been ages since we had spent so much time together.
Like all trips involving more than one person, this one was built on compromise. It was a struggle to find a 10-day stretch to which both of us could commit. And for this trip, my mother wanted something familiar. Maybe an English-speaking country, where you could get a recognizable meal. I lobbied for economy and for a place I'd never been. We settled on a self-guided walking tour of southeastern Scotland; our luggage would be sent ahead each day to the next inn.
We walked along craigs (cliffs) and through harr (coastal fog); locals emerging from the mist were friendly but spoke as though their mouths were full of thistle. Whenever we asked directions or just said hello, these residents of Fife look alarmed. It turned out they couldn't understand a word we were saying either. For years my mother and I couldn't understand each other; now we were the only ones who could.
We shared a room every night, spent all day together on the trail and tried not to blame each other when getting lost added more miles to the day's total, or when our room at the end of the day was something to be endured rather than enjoyed.
One day, on the trail, my mother asked me one too many times to get something out of her pack and then put it back in. Digging into mymother's daypack started to feel queasily cozy, as if the zippered compartments were recesses in our own bodies. And later, when my mother couldn't find her medicine and started to freak out, I called her a catastrophist. For some reason she didn't appreciate this assessment. At dinner, conversation was strained.
The great thing about a walking tour is that you can literally walk it off, whatever it may be. Walking is powerful medicine — maybe the most powerful I know. And as we walked, it became both model and metaphor: By moving forward, one step at a time, we could get through anything. Or so we hoped.
Mother-daughter closeness wasn't all bad. A few nights later we were eating dinner at the Crusoe Hotel in Lower Largo. Three Dutch businessmen struck up a conversation. Sales reps for a paint company, they were part of a centuries-old tradition of trade between Scotland and the Netherlands. They were also excellent conversationalists and gallant flirts.
Walking back to that night's inn, I asked my mother, "How old do you think those Dutch guys were?"
"Wait," she said, though I wasn't pressing her. "I have to think."
I thought too, picturing each face. We walked half a block, the gentle slap of the waves still audible even as we made our way inland. "Ready," we both said at the same moment. When we laughed, even our laughs were of the same timbre and duration. We didn't come up with the same ages for the flirty Dutchmen, but our decision-making process was identical.
Putting one foot in front of the other, hour after hour, day after day, pulled us into the present like nothing else I've done. History was everywhere: in seaside caves graffitied with 5th century Pictish glyphs, in medieval castles featured in Shakespeare plays, in clearings where the last witch was burned in 1644. Where history is so palpable, death seems closer, inviting you to contemplate your own, or that of those closest to you.
At the 12th century churchyard in Crail, on a hill above the harbor, we admired the multicolored lichen on old stone walls. And we read headstone after headstone, as if looking for clues to our own mortality.
I could tell my mother was saddened by the short life spans on so many stones, and I reminded myself that the very time we were spending together was fast running out.
I joined her in front of a weathered stone for an 8-year-old girl who had lived and died more than 100 years ago. "Sometimes," I said, "I lay awake and think of how much of my life has gone by."
She laughed, because, of course, even more of her life had gone by.
"Is that silly?" I asked.
"Not at all. I do it all the time. I don't like the system at all."
"The system?" I asked.
"That you're born and then you die."
"Oh," I said. "That system."
On one of our last nights out, we ordered a bottle of wine and cullen skink, a thick stew of haddock and potatoes that smelled of the sea. My mother had a proposition. "People tend to dwell on the negative," she said. "I'm no exception. But let's do something. I'll tell you everything I appreciate about you, and you tell me what you appreciate about me."
Research notes:
I don't know. I checked the membership records to see who else was confirmed on 17 November 1861 and saw three names including James Gardiner so I concluded the other two were part of the eight. One of them was John or Jonathan McBeath. He became the Branch President. I remember him because he was the person who baptized Robert Gardiner the first time. Both James Gardiner and John or Jonathan McBeath were cut off in 1856. I think James was cut off for rebellion and McBeath for tithing. I don't know if Ann and Robert were ever cut off, but they both were rebaptized I believe. (This is all based on my faulty memory.) I haven't tracked done all the loose ends. N
Hi Kent
Your enquiry was forwarded by the City Archivist, Iain Flett. I am sorry for the tardy reply but I have just returned from holiday and am working my way trough back mail.
Anyway, I am afraid that your enquiry relates to a period beyond our normal research.
I did find a mention in the LDS web-site that James Gardiner and Ann Morgan had a son James who was born 23rd December 1807 and died 10th September 1878 in Edinburgh. Unfortunately this information was placed by a member of the LDS church and there is no index entry for this death in the Scottish records.
If you trace any further information I will happily try and pursue this for you.
Regards
Grant
December 2, 2009
Hi Kent
Thanks fro your reply.
There is an index of Howff records available via the Council webiste. If you use the A to Z (using H!!) you will see the link quite clearly. The web-site address is:
www.dundeecity.gov.uk
I have copied this message to the Burials team and the City Archivist in the hope that they can assist with your other questions.
Regards
Grant
Thanks fro your reply.
There is an index of Howff records available via the Council webiste. If you use the A to Z (using H!!) you will see the link quite clearly. The web-site address is:
www.dundeecity.gov.uk
I have copied this message to the Burials team and the City Archivist in the hope that they can assist with your other questions.
Regards
Grant
Kent Gardiner
kgardin@ucla.edu
Good Morning, Kent.
1. The Scottish Genealogy Society has published a survey of the memorial inscriptions visible in 1881 and it is available from their web shop "Pre 1855 gravestone inscriptions in Angus - vol 4 - Dundee and Broughty Ferry" - 20 bullet points down in monumental inscriptions
http://www.scotsgenealogy.com
then
http://www.scotsgenealogy.com/acatalog/Angus_MI.html
Many of the stones noted in 1881 have succumbed to the frost of Scottish winters and air pollution and are no longer visible or standing.
The majority of burials do not have memorial stones, and the FDCA have indexed the burial records at
http://www.fdca.org.uk/FDCAHowffInfo.html
2. Innes Duffus, Hon Archivist of the Nine Incorporated Trades, is relentlessly pursuing the renovation of Morgan's Tomb and I copy this to him so he can update you on progress.
3. The Crown still issues royal warrants;
see http://www.royalwarrant.org/
Regards
Iain Flett
kgardin@ucla.edu
Good Morning, Kent.
1. The Scottish Genealogy Society has published a survey of the memorial inscriptions visible in 1881 and it is available from their web shop "Pre 1855 gravestone inscriptions in Angus - vol 4 - Dundee and Broughty Ferry" - 20 bullet points down in monumental inscriptions
http://www.scotsgenealogy.com
then
http://www.scotsgenealogy.com/acatalog/Angus_MI.html
Many of the stones noted in 1881 have succumbed to the frost of Scottish winters and air pollution and are no longer visible or standing.
The majority of burials do not have memorial stones, and the FDCA have indexed the burial records at
http://www.fdca.org.uk/FDCAHowffInfo.html
2. Innes Duffus, Hon Archivist of the Nine Incorporated Trades, is relentlessly pursuing the renovation of Morgan's Tomb and I copy this to him so he can update you on progress.
3. The Crown still issues royal warrants;
see http://www.royalwarrant.org/
Regards
Iain Flett
Dec 2, 2009
Hi Kent
The English are right!! It was -2 this morning. And damp. And windy. And dark.
Me, I'm retiring to Mexico.
Cheers
Grant
Come Home to your Ancestral Roots at the
Angus & Dundee Roots Festival
28th September - 4th October 2009
www.tayroots.com
The English are right!! It was -2 this morning. And damp. And windy. And dark.
Me, I'm retiring to Mexico.
Cheers
Grant
Come Home to your Ancestral Roots at the
Angus & Dundee Roots Festival
28th September - 4th October 2009
www.tayroots.com
December 2, 2009
Good morning Kent
Iain Flett of Dundee City Archives has passed your enquiry to me in the hope that I can be of some help.
I attach several files on the subject which are self-explanatory despite being somewhat unedited
The latest position regarding the family grave in the Howff is that I have made so many waves that Morgan FP's are promising to have the lettering re-carved and the stone cleaned up soon. All I can say is that after 9 years trying - watch this space.
Innes
Innes A. Duffus
Iain Flett of Dundee City Archives has passed your enquiry to me in the hope that I can be of some help.
I attach several files on the subject which are self-explanatory despite being somewhat unedited
The latest position regarding the family grave in the Howff is that I have made so many waves that Morgan FP's are promising to have the lettering re-carved and the stone cleaned up soon. All I can say is that after 9 years trying - watch this space.
Innes
Innes A. Duffus
The paper is the Deseret News. I will send some more clippings when I get a chance. James Brown immigrated to Utah around 1864. Robert moved to Dundee in 1866 (at least that is what the church records show). N
Origin of 'Edinburgh'
Tourists have problems with the name of Edinburgh. There are hundreds of ways people write it and the most common writings include 'edinburg', 'edinborough', 'edimburgh', 'edinbourgh', 'ediburgh', 'edinbugh', 'edinboro', 'edingburgh', 'edinbrugh', 'edimburg', 'edinburugh', 'edingurgh', 'edinbrough', etc.
According to the Scottish Place Names dictionary, the name Edinburgh means 'Fort of the Rock Face'. The 'edin' part comes from Scottish Gaelic and means 'rock face', while 'burgh' comes from Old English meaning stronghold.
Some more obscure (and quite funny) ways of writing Edinburgh include: edinburough, edingburg, edinbourg, edinburh, edinurgh, edenburg, edinbough, edinbourough, edinbrgh, edingborough, edenburgh, edinberg, edinborgh, edinborugh, edinburge, edinburhg, edingbourgh, etc.
Edinburgh is spelt Edimburgo in Spanish and Italian and Édimbourg in French.
Origin of 'Edinburgh'
Tourists have problems with the name of Edinburgh. There are hundreds of ways people write it and the most common writings include 'edinburg', 'edinborough', 'edimburgh', 'edinbourgh', 'ediburgh', 'edinbugh', 'edinboro', 'edingburgh', 'edinbrugh', 'edimburg', 'edinburugh', 'edingurgh', 'edinbrough', etc.
According to the Scottish Place Names dictionary, the name Edinburgh means 'Fort of the Rock Face'. The 'edin' part comes from Scottish Gaelic and means 'rock face', while 'burgh' comes from Old English meaning stronghold.
Some more obscure (and quite funny) ways of writing Edinburgh include: edinburough, edingburg, edinbourg, edinburh, edinurgh, edenburg, edinbough, edinbourough, edinbrgh, edingborough, edenburgh, edinberg, edinborgh, edinborugh, edinburge, edinburhg, edingbourgh, etc.
Edinburgh is spelt Edimburgo in Spanish and Italian and Édimbourg in French.