History of Hurlford from earliest days through the 19th and 20th Centuries
BIBLIOGRAPHY AS PER PREVIOUS PAGES
Hurlford is not an ancient village; the oldest houses being built circa 1725. Ramsay's house, now the Bridge Inn was erected circa 1800.
John Gemmell, a shoemaker, occupied a house near Ramsay's called the Tollhouse which was erected on a direct road between Mayfield and Little Blair. Fishing was a popular pastime and many a good salmon was caught at Crookedholm Dam. At this time there was not a single Englishman or Irishman in Hurlford but some years after the Battle of Waterloo an Englishman, a Cockney named Richard Walsh, came to live at Hurlford. Walsh, about the time when the King and Queen of France were murdered, had been a member of a Society at London whose objective was to overturn the throne and establish a Gallic model in it's place. Walsh set himelf up in business in Kilmarnock as a weaver's agent but evenutally he had a six-loom shop for weavers at Hurlford. Walsh's wife was Elizabeth Armour, a cousin of Burns' Jean Armour; they had no family. Andrew Howat, a joiner, was another local worthy. In 1818 he was an old man but in his prime was a good looking muscular man.He worked at a coal pit at Norris Bank, 2 miles on the road to Mauchline and 4 miles from Mossgeil. He knew Robert Burns and said that he and Burns read books together. James Parker,formerly farmer of Craigie Parish also knew Burns but did not like his works.
Excerp from 19th Century Book entitled "Rambles Around Kilmarnock by Archibald R Adamson written c1870
"Passing through Hillhead Toll I gradually attained the summit of the brae & paused at a small bnridge that spoanbs a single line of rail which communicates between the main railway ans some coal pits belonging to Messrs Gilmour. Here I had a splendid view of the surrounding country. The prospect from the bridge is as extensive as it is beautiful, and the eye rests with delight upon a fertile and highly picturesque tract of country. Farther on I passed a road-side public house, into which a number of miners entered seemingly intent of "whetting their whistles" and washing the dust of the week out of their throats. I was certain it was pay-day for them, for the buxom landlady smirked and smiled upon the motley gro, and welcomed them ben with great frankness. A little beyond this "public" the road takes a turn, and when rounding it the somewhat scattered but populous village of Hurlford comes into view. Passing rows of miners dwellings of the usual class, and remarkable only for the number of children gambolling about them, I arrived at the village of Hurlford, Old Hurlford, which consists of a few thatched houses of mean appearance, stands on an old and now disused road in a hollow to the north of the modern village. These houses some half a dozen in number were all that constituted the hamlet 70 years ago; and had it not been discovered that the district was rich in minerals the ground whereon the new portion of the village now stands would still have been furrowed by the plough and yielded crops to the husbandman. Hurlford of today is a place of considerable importance and bustle. It contains a well appointed and elegant Working Men's Institute, the generous gift of Mr Galloway, coalmaster; a commodious Academy, two handsome Churches, and a prosperous Co-operative Society. It depends chiefy on the Portland Iron Works, the extensive fire-clay goods factory of Messrs J & R Howie and the numerous collieries in the vicinity. Crossing the bridge which spans the Irvine, I passed on the north side of the road the Free Church, a very neat edifice with a spire, and a little further on, on the same side, the substantial Hurlford Parish Church, a recently erected building, and one of the finest places of worship in Ayrshire. Opposite it are the Portland Iron Works, the glare of whose furnaces on a dark night illuminates the whole district. Passing through Crookedholm, a straggling row of irregularly built dwellings that line the road at a spot where the Irvine, far below the level of the highway, sweeps round a corner as it flows onward, I soon arrived at Woodend, the tasteful residence of Mr Alan Gilmour. The house is built of red sandstone, and occupies a position which commands a fine view of the surrounding country. The road beyond is nearly dead level, and continues so until Kilmarnock is reached."
© Hurlford Village History | created at www.mrsite.com
Hurlford is not an ancient village; the oldest houses being built circa 1725. Ramsay's house, now the Bridge Inn was erected circa 1800.
John Gemmell, a shoemaker, occupied a house near Ramsay's called the Tollhouse which was erected on a direct road between Mayfield and Little Blair. Fishing was a popular pastime and many a good salmon was caught at Crookedholm Dam. At this time there was not a single Englishman or Irishman in Hurlford but some years after the Battle of Waterloo an Englishman, a Cockney named Richard Walsh, came to live at Hurlford. Walsh, about the time when the King and Queen of France were murdered, had been a member of a Society at London whose objective was to overturn the throne and establish a Gallic model in it's place. Walsh set himelf up in business in Kilmarnock as a weaver's agent but evenutally he had a six-loom shop for weavers at Hurlford. Walsh's wife was Elizabeth Armour, a cousin of Burns' Jean Armour; they had no family. Andrew Howat, a joiner, was another local worthy. In 1818 he was an old man but in his prime was a good looking muscular man.He worked at a coal pit at Norris Bank, 2 miles on the road to Mauchline and 4 miles from Mossgeil. He knew Robert Burns and said that he and Burns read books together. James Parker,formerly farmer of Craigie Parish also knew Burns but did not like his works.
Excerp from 19th Century Book entitled "Rambles Around Kilmarnock by Archibald R Adamson written c1870
"Passing through Hillhead Toll I gradually attained the summit of the brae & paused at a small bnridge that spoanbs a single line of rail which communicates between the main railway ans some coal pits belonging to Messrs Gilmour. Here I had a splendid view of the surrounding country. The prospect from the bridge is as extensive as it is beautiful, and the eye rests with delight upon a fertile and highly picturesque tract of country. Farther on I passed a road-side public house, into which a number of miners entered seemingly intent of "whetting their whistles" and washing the dust of the week out of their throats. I was certain it was pay-day for them, for the buxom landlady smirked and smiled upon the motley gro, and welcomed them ben with great frankness. A little beyond this "public" the road takes a turn, and when rounding it the somewhat scattered but populous village of Hurlford comes into view. Passing rows of miners dwellings of the usual class, and remarkable only for the number of children gambolling about them, I arrived at the village of Hurlford, Old Hurlford, which consists of a few thatched houses of mean appearance, stands on an old and now disused road in a hollow to the north of the modern village. These houses some half a dozen in number were all that constituted the hamlet 70 years ago; and had it not been discovered that the district was rich in minerals the ground whereon the new portion of the village now stands would still have been furrowed by the plough and yielded crops to the husbandman. Hurlford of today is a place of considerable importance and bustle. It contains a well appointed and elegant Working Men's Institute, the generous gift of Mr Galloway, coalmaster; a commodious Academy, two handsome Churches, and a prosperous Co-operative Society. It depends chiefy on the Portland Iron Works, the extensive fire-clay goods factory of Messrs J & R Howie and the numerous collieries in the vicinity. Crossing the bridge which spans the Irvine, I passed on the north side of the road the Free Church, a very neat edifice with a spire, and a little further on, on the same side, the substantial Hurlford Parish Church, a recently erected building, and one of the finest places of worship in Ayrshire. Opposite it are the Portland Iron Works, the glare of whose furnaces on a dark night illuminates the whole district. Passing through Crookedholm, a straggling row of irregularly built dwellings that line the road at a spot where the Irvine, far below the level of the highway, sweeps round a corner as it flows onward, I soon arrived at Woodend, the tasteful residence of Mr Alan Gilmour. The house is built of red sandstone, and occupies a position which commands a fine view of the surrounding country. The road beyond is nearly dead level, and continues so until Kilmarnock is reached."
© Hurlford Village History | created at www.mrsite.com