Edgar Newsletter 10
News Letter Number Ten
Society of Edgar Families
Melbourne, Australia
IN SEARCH OF ANCESTORS
By Florence Edgar Hebson [written at Montrose, Scotland, September 1921]
[The writer was a descendant of Thomas Edgar [1681-1759], brother of James Edgar, Secretary to the Chevalier St George, both of whom were younger sons of David Edgar, Laird of Keithock, Forfarshire, Scotland. Thomas Edgar settled near Woodbridge, New Jersey, after 1715, and was the founder of a distinguished American family with estates at Edgarton and Woodbridge NJ. This manuscript was given to Mr J K Edgar, of Toronto, Canada, Patron of the Society of Edgar Families and Chief of the Keithock Edgars, by the late Brigadier-General Clinton Goodloe Edgar DSM [United States Army], who was born 21 December 1873, and was principal of the Chicago firm of W H Edgar and Co. Brig-Gen Edgar was also a descendant of the pioneer, Thomas Edgar, and was keenly interested in the genealogy of the family. He was the owner of the Lawrence-Archer collection of Edgar MSS, and possessed many other valuable family records, some of which he used in his book “Letters and Genealogy of the Edgar Family” {1930}].
THE LITTLE PORTRAIT
At our home in New Jersey, named “Keithock” after the home of our forefathers in Scotland, I remember from earliest childhood, a little oval picture in a tarnished gilt frame, which hung in a corner of the library, It was an oil painting of a handsome gentleman in grey Perruque and dark red coat, with white stock and ruffled front. The face was rather long, the eyes brown, the forehead high and intellectual and the expression happy and serene.
To us children he was simply our “Ancestor” neither more nor less, the vagueness of the term unqualified by a description. Indeed our notions of the meaning of the word were hazy in the extreme, one of my small brothers having once when challenged to define it, hazarded the opinion than an ancestor was “an awful old sister”. At any rate, for all we knew to the contrary, the gentleman in the picture might have been the only creature of the sort that the family possessed. He was taken for granted and we thought very little about him in those days. But as we grew older we realized that our father set great store by the portrait, that it was, indeed, one of his most cherished possessions and that it was connected in some way with two little books, identical in all save colour which he also treasured and which were entitled :The Scottish House of Edgar”. Our Mother used to poke fun at him for his pride of race and was particularly jocose over the little red and blue books about which she loved to tease him. The books contained, as frontpiece, another likeness of our ancestor at a later age in which, to the beauty of feature in the more youthful picture, it added a new beauty of expression. One can read in it strength, faithfulness, tolerance, sympathy, and rare gentleness and kindliness which make it easy to believe the testimony of those who knew him, to his loveableness and sterling character.
But I am anticipating, for it was not until years after that I learned [through a careful reading of the memorandum on the back of the little portrait, in my father’s clear and delicate handwriting, now as I write in 1921, already yellow with age] that our Ancestor was identical with the faithful Secretary who was for upwards of forty years with the Chevalier St George, went with him through the rising of 1715 and accompanied him to Rome, where after his long and devoted service, he died in September 1762.
Our father used to tell delightful stories and one of our special favourites was about his visit when a young man to a lady in Pitt Street, Edinburgh, who was closely connected with the Edgar family. this was Miss Catherine Mary Watson, daughter of Bishop Watson of Dunkeld and great-granddaughter of Alexander Edgar of Keithock, the eldest brother of Secretary James Edgar, our “Ancestor”. Our father’s graphic description of this lady’s little apartment at the top of one of Edinburgh’s many-storied old houses, greatly impressed us – we were thrilled and awed by his account of the manner of gaining admission by pressing a button which caused the front door to miraculously to fly open through the operation of some unseen power above. This introduced an element of seeming magic which made the story as fascinating as any fairy tale and cast into the background [of memory at least] what was of course of far greater interest, the actual visit to the lady herself who had the Edgar genealogy at her finger ends and who talked delightfully about all family matters. She possessed also many valuable historical relics which she loved to display among them being the original portrait of our ancestor of which my father’s was a copy.
This visit to the lady in her sky-parlous was I know, an important mile-stone in our father’s life and both the little portrait and the red and blue books were its outcome.
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A few days after my eleventh birthday, I crossed the ocean for the tour in Europe with my Grandmother and beloved Governess. We landed in Queenstown and after a week or so in Ireland crossed from Belfast to Glasgow and spent some time sightseeing in Edinburgh. We had been charged by my father on no account to fail to pay a visit to Miss Catherine Watson, at that time about seventy years of age. We lost no time in getting in touch with her and never shall I forget my excitement as, after many anticipations, I stood at the door of the high old house and repeated my father’s experience by pressing with my own finger the magic button. Yes! - it was all quite true; after a few seconds of breathless suspense the door unlatched by invisible hands, sprang open of itself while thrills ran up and down my impressionable little spine.
At the top of the stairs the charming old lady gave us a hearty welcome and we were soon feeling quite at home in her little parlour while she chatted to us of all we wished to hear and showed us pictures, treasures and relics each with its story which she loved to repeat. One was a piece of the original garter from which the Order had been founded, with its famous motto: “Honi Soit qui Mal y pense”.
Among the many stories of the family which she told s those I remember best are the following:
On the suppression of the rising of 1715 Secretary James made his way to Keithock and there applied to a tenant farmer named Bell for the loan of a suit of labourer’s clothes in which disguise he escaped to the Continent, subsequently returning the suit which the farmer carefully treasured as a momento of the incident. Thirty years later, after Culloden, his nephew John Edgar went to the same farmer on a similar errand and to his surprise was told that he could be accommodated with the identical clothes which had been lent to his uncle. When John, wearing the historic suit and under the alias of Mr Willoughby went to Edinburgh he called on some relatives in that city. The servant, after admitting the uncouth visitor, became suspicious and leaving the parlour door ajar, watched the interview. The ladies, thinking themselves unobserved, embraced the fugitive, while the servant, his suspicion confirmed, hurried off to the nearest military post to give information, and the rebel only escaped by five minutes, the party of soldiers sent to arrest him. They searched the house but finding no male rebel, fancied that one of the ladies, who was of a tall stature, must be a rebel in disguise and would have carried her to prison, had not her brother, by removing the herchief from her neck satisfied him of his mistake. Later in the day the family reproached the servant for her treachery, but she excused herself by saying that on the previous Sunday, her minister had preached that anyone who concealed a rebel would go to perdition. [These and many other stories are to be found in “The Scottish House of Edgar”].
On the Sunday following our visit to her, Miss Watson and a “Kinsman” whose name I forget, came to our hotel to take us to Church. Despite her seventy years, she presented a very festive and cheerful appearance in her Sabbath attire, which included a while tulle bonnet with a garland of ivy leaves and bright green ribbons tied in a big bow under her chin. She had brown eyes and bright red cheeks like winter apples and
this is the vision of my kinswoman which remains with me in memory still.
Many years after, I inherited, at my father’s death the little portrait of our ancestor which has ever since, always found a corner on the walls of each of my homes.
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The next link in the chain was making acquaintances with some Scottish people while on a seaside holiday. When I mentioned that I was of Scottish descent they were interested and I discovered that they were from Brechin where the lady’s mother was at that time still living. I enquired eagerly about Keithock, and after our return home received a gift of a good sized photograph of the old house and a message that the lady at Brechin distinctly remembered Edgars at Keithock. this naturally increased my interest in the matter and satisfied to some extent my curiousity. It also revived an old idea which had for long slumbered comfortably in my sub-consciousness that I would one of these days take a holiday in Scotland and see the old places with my own eyes. But the years rolled by, life was full of more absorbing interests and Keithock and my pilgrimage were forgotten.
Then came this summer of 1921, with its long weeks of almost tropical heat which for various reasons we endured in our Hampstead garden. After the, for us, unusual experience of spending July and August in London we felt the need of a change before settling down for the winter. I was stupid and at loose ends. The days were quickly slipping by – a whole procession of hot ones, when I suddenly realized that what I wanted above all things was the sea – that it must be a new place and a cool place and that even a rainy place might be welcome.
Then a flash of inspiration came. Why should it not be Scotland and Yes! – of course, :Keithock”. From the moment of decision everything favoured my plans. On writing to “the occupier” [for all I knew it might have been vacant and deserted] I received a friendly reply consenting to my visit at that time, and a few days later at ten o’clock in the evening, stepped out of the train on the Montrose platform. I was soon settled and at home in the old fashioned and comfortable “George” – and in touch with the courteous and able Librarian of the Free Library to whom I had an introduction. I had brought the little portrait of James Edgar to show him and no one could have been kinder or more friendly in taking pains to supply me with books about the Jacobite period and the early history of “Keithock” and the Edgars. At his suggestion I obtained a secondhand copy of the “Scottish House of Edgar”, published by the Grampian Club in 1873 and written for them by an eccentric gentleman, one Dr Roger. This book is doubtless identical with the little red and blue books of my childhood, and is a treasure trove of family lore. Although as a child I never remember having opened the little volume, here in Montrose, at long last I have read and re-read it with joy. Its heart and kernel is of course the memoir of my ancestor par excellence, the famous Secretary.
Before arranging to go to Keithock I prepared myself for the visit by a few days study of the old books while enjoying the pleasures of anticipation. The more I read the more keen and at last wrote to the Lady who is the present mistress of “Keithock” to ask when I might be received. A courteous note came in reply fixing the following Monday afternoon. My excitement increased as the long-wished for day approached and although I knew I was being absurd and tried to keep calm by telling myself that it was only an afternoon call and nothing to make all this fuss about, the romantic part of me would not be quieted, and insisted on regarding it not only as a thrilling adventure but as an event in my life comparable in importance to marriage, birth or death and from which one would remember and date things in the future as having occurred before or after that memorable day. Two days before my curiousity was still further sharpened by driving past the gates of “Keithock” on a charabanc excursion when returning from Locklee to Montrose via Edzell and Brechin. The driver pointed out the entrance as we approached but we could not see the house. He thought it just possible that we might get a glimpse of it from a bend in the road further on but excepting the beautiful lawn and finely timbered Park all that I got was a fleeting impression of what might have been a red creeper glimmering in the sunshine through swaying branches. The house lay, level with the road, calm and peaceful and my heart was warmed by its cheerful aspect in the afternoon sunshine, an aspect so different from the stern and forbidding one I had expected. I returned to Montrose to spend the two days of waiting feeling that “Keithock” and I had already approached a step nearer to each other.
“KEITHOCK”
At last the Monday came and shortly after three I started out in a small car from the hotel. The run from Montrose to Brechin took only a short half hour and there was plenty of time to visit the church [by courtesy the Cathedral] before proceeding to “Keithock”. My interest in it was to find the grave of John Edgar, the Secretary’s favourite nephew, who was with him in Rome but returned to Scotland after the Act of Indemnity and died aged sixty-three in 1788. Two years after his death “Keithock” passed into other hands.
The custodian Mr Bruce, well-versed in the family history, pointed out the old grey headstone where a great surprise awaited me. I was thrilled and amazed to find the name of my old friend Miss Catherine Mary Watson, also inscribed upon the stone below that of her grand-grand uncle, The inscription told me that she had died in Edinburgh 7 June 1884, aged eighty-two – about thirteen years after I had visited her. I had often wondered about her life after we saw her and how long it had gone on in that little home so near the sky, and the answer to my questionings coming so suddenly through my discovery of the inscription on the tombstone strengthened my conviction that life is a big game of “Patience” where problems are solved in the end and all things come to him who waits
We left the Churchyard and after stopping for some picture postcards, made our way towards “Keithock” some two miles from the town, arriving duly at the time appointed. The sky had been overcast during the drive bus as we approached the entrance gates it cleared and flickering gleams of sunshine welcomed me to the home of my fathers. The lodge-keeper having assured me that this was the principal entrance and I having instructed the chauffeur to move as quickly as possible we entered the drive, straight at first, then curving to the left as it neared the house. As we crawled along, intense curiousity was my uppermost feeling and I longed for a second pair of eyes to take in and register in memory the long anticipated pictures and impressions I was receiving and which I felt would all too soon be over.
Among many fine trees on either side a brilliant copper beach stood out conspicuous on the left as we approached the house, but even its flaming challenge was eclipsed by the wonderful Ampelopsis which, in its warm autumn dress of red, spread a mass of lovely colour over the front of the old building whose grey stones offered an ideal background.
In the uncoloured photograph I possessed the creeper of course did not appear and the impression one received was of a grim and rather triste dwelling. Being prepared to find the face of “Keithock” dour and austere, it was a pleasant surprise to find it in truth, smiling and blushing a welcome and evidently still in full possession of the joy of life in spite of the centuries behind it and the possession of generations it had sheltered and outlived. The door was opened by a bonny young maid who showed me into a parlour on the left and took my card to her mistress. The room was of medium size with a bow window in front and opening on to a smaller room at the back. It was homelike and comfortable in the Victorian style with rather a superabundance of furniture, and knic-knacs and everywhere were small vases filled with gay flowers. A cello lay on the sofa among the cushions – and this was all I had time to notice before my hostess and her daughter came to welcome me. The former was a gentle, fragile-looking elderly lady with a rather sad expression. Whatever had been her trials it was pleasant to learn from the conversation which followed, that she had now the comfort of three lovely grandchildren who had just departed after a seven weeks visit, leaving the mother and daughter along and the old house strangely quiet.
The daughter was a striking figure and mist have resembled her father who was dead as no tow people could have been more entirely unlike than were the mother and herself. She was tall and well proportioned and carried herself well. Her face was young and complexion dazzling, though her hair was prematurely grey, and she was the very picture of glowing health, strength and vitality. Her whole personality seemed to radiate happiness, energy and a keen relish for life as she found it. She wore a kilted plaid skirt, white silk blouse and earrings [bit hoops of gold] which suited her.
Both ladies gave me the friendliest of welcomes although as I told them, I felt that the size of the Edgar Clan and the frequency of their pilgrimages to the old home must have put something of a strain upon their good nature and hospitality. They had evidently learned to take the inroads of the Edgars philosophically, as all in the day’s work and I was assured that it had been some years now since the last invasion. We talked “Keithock” and they were interested to see the little portrait, which I had brought to show them. They had lived twentyseven years in the house and had bought it from a Mr Aberdein, who had done something in the way repairs or alterations to the original structure, the date of building of which they could not tell me, So far as they knew it had been occupied by someone all through the years since, after John Edgar’s death, it was sold in 1790, although it has passed through many different hands.
We had tea in the dining-room, on the opposite side of the hall, where a fire was burning and we sat down at the end of the long table looking out on the beautiful lawn whose vivid green was a refreshing sight after the parched grass in England of this burning summer.
Although we chatted comfortably about many things and it was outwardly just an ordinary afternoon call, inwardly the sense of wonder at being at “Keithock” never left me. I was strung up to concert pitch with the consciousness of climax, the fulfillment of hope long deferred, of passing another mile-stone on life’s long road.
Before we started to see the garden, my hostess, by a happy inspiration, asked if I would care to see the upper story of the house to which I eagerly assented. It was just what I had been longing to do but had not ventured to suggest and I followed her delightful daughter with alacrity and joy. There were only two stories in the front although at the back, over the kitchen and the older portion, there were three. On the second floor the six or seven bed-rooms opened on a gallery from which one looked down into the Hall below. They were just comfortable old-fashioned rooms, neither large nor small, but the whole gave a home-like impression and reminded me of the arrangement of room sat our own old home in Summit, New Jersey, where we looked down over a railing into the hall in the same way – only there, there was a third story and a little tower. In both Keithocks there was a balcony over the front door, upon which a bedroom opened; the balcony bed-room in the Summit “Keithock” having been my own when I was a young girl. At the back of the Scottish Keithock were the nurseries, more bed-rooms, a second bathroom and a billiard-room, which had been a school-room converted. At the head of the bed in the nursery was the cupboard [a charmingly proportioned long and low one let into the wall] where I was told the family skeleton was supposed to hide.
After our tour of inspection upstairs the ladies got their hats and took me for a walk around the grounds. First the garden at the back, down a long grass-walk flanked by borders glowing with colour to the greenhouse where the begonias were the special features – the largest and most brilliant I have ever seen. Outside in the beds together with chrysanthemums and asters, roses, stocks and other summer flowers, bloomed as freely as if summer were still at its height. It seemed astonishing in this rigorous climate and proves that the “grit” universally conceded to the Scottish character is by no means confined to the animal kingdom. My hostess was evidently a devoted lover of her garden and the surrounding acres and we rambled on through a beautiful avenue towards “Little Keithock” passing the dry bed of what had been, in her husband’s time, a lake where they used to row and bathe. He had made it at great expense but it was given up as too costly a hobby.
The following description of Keithock is given in one of the old books:
“The mansion house of Keithock is a comfortable edifice, pleasantly situation, with a good garden, fine lawn and thriving shrubbery, having a small plantation around it and there are some noble old trees in the grounds. It stands a little to the west of the highway from Brechin and Edzell, a short distance to the south of the Cruick water. In the old days Keithock was a barony and had its gallows hill”.
I learned afterward that our walk must have taken us close to a place where excavations had been made and many interesting relics of the Roman occupation discovered.
I have always regretted not having seen “Little Keithock”, the home-farm where the house I was told was as old or older then Keithock itself. But it was already late and my conscience stirring on behalf of the long-suffering chauffeur waiting in the cold. Reluctantly I turned back and said goodbye to my hostesses trying in vain to express my gratitude and appreciation of their kindness. As I drove away, filled with the deep satisfaction of a hope, long-deferred, realised at last, I recognized how inadequate were my words and that the ladies of “Keithock” would never know how great was my debt to them for the pleasure they had given me.
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GENERAL NOTES
PUBLICITY: The Society editress of the Australian Women’s Weekly, which has a circulation of nearly half a million copies weekly, has expressed a desire to publish particulars of the work being carrie don by own War Comforts Committee. Mrs Keith Nicholson, President of the Committee is supplying the necessary details.
A recent issue of the organ of the RSSILA “Mufti”, contained information about the Committee’s efforts. This journal is widely read.
S S RANGITANE DISASTER: The Hon Secretary has written a letter of congratulation to the 2nd Engineer I Edgar, of the SS “Rangitane”, which was a victim of the enemy raiders in the vicinity of Naura recently. Mr Edgar is a Glasgow man and has been offered hospitality in Melbourne by members of the Society should he be able to come here.
EDGARS OF LISMORE, FORMERLY OF MELROSE, SCOTLAND: Mrs W Drinnan, of Lismore NSW, and Mr William R Edgar, of Poligolet Station, Derrinallum, Vic., have been able to furnish a great deal of valuable information concerning the family of their pioneer ancestors, Alexander and Isobella [nee Rutherford] Edgar, of Lismore, Vic. A full genealogy of the family is in preparation.
EDGARS OF IRELAND: A considerable amount of material relating to the Irish Edgars is being held over in order that it may be published with the history of the family of the pioneer Edward Edgar, of Kyneton, the father or our President, the Honourable William Haslam Edgar, MP, and of the late Reverence Alexander R Edgar.
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WAR COMFORTS COMMITTEE
Late in October members of the War Comforts Committee made up parcels for our men in the various services at home and overseas. Some very useful articles were included in the parcels and it is hoped that the continued support of our members will make it possible to dispatch further gifts before long. Knitted articles, tobacco, cigarettes or toilet articles should be sent to the depot at 788 Swanston Street, Carlton N3, Vic., marked “War Comforts Committee, Society of Edgar Families”. The Hon Secretary to the Committee, Miss Margaret Edgar, Box 2630x, GPO Melbourne, will be pleased to receive donations, with which to buy goods at special wholesale rates, or offers from those willing to knit articles for the men from wool supplied by the Committee.
A few extracts from letters received in acknowledgement of the packages already forwarded will clearly indicate to all our members that the Committee is doing useful work which is worthy of loyal support.
From WOI D J Edgar: “Thank you for the very fine parcel. It arrived in excellent order and condition and I can assure you it was very much appreciated. I think the preserved fruit idea is excellent, also the socks. Soldiers can never have too many socks. Another suggestion is handkerchiefs. They are essential and unfortunately are not an Army Issue.”
From Bdr S V Edgar: “I want to thank the Society for its very great work in sending us comforts; it was a great surprise to receive such a lovely parcel. Believe me, each and every article enclosed was much appreciated and as for the socks, all I can say is that they were not the first pair that the knitter had made – they were an excellent fit. Please thank the Society ever so much for me and let members know that whatever they do for me or any other soldier is really appreciated.”
John F Edgar writes: “Please accept my sincere thanks for the parcel forwarded me by the Society of Edgar Families. I appreciate very much the kind thoughts that prompted the setting up of the War Comforts Committee.”
The following additional Service names and addresses are gratefully acknowledged:-
B.22089, Gnr. James Keithock Edgar [Patron of the Society of Edgar Families], 24th Anti-Tank Bty., RCA., CASF., Standard Barracks, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.
Gnr J R Edgar [from Wagga, NSW], 2/17A Battery, 2/9A Field Regt., AIF, Holdsworthy, NSW
2nd Echelon, 10938, Sgt., Stanley James Edgar [from Tapanui NZ], D. Coy., 20th Batt., 7th Int. Brigade, 2nd NZEF Overseas.
2nd Echelon, 10932, Alvin H Edgar [of Tapanui NZ], Reinforcement Coy., 23rd Rifle Batt., 2nd NZEF Overseas
The following promotions are announced:-
NX3753, Sgt S K Edgar, to be Lieutenant
NX14052, Gnr G V Edgar, to be Bombardier
Flight Lieutenant Alan Edgar, [Foundation Member of SEF] of the RAAF directorate of recruiting, a Great War pilot, has been promoted Squadron Leader, RAAF
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EDGAR LANDOWNERS IN ENGLAND AND WALES 1873
[from “Return of Owners of Land, 1873”]
CUMBERLAND
Edgar, John, Carlisle, 3 acres, annual value £4.13.0
Edgar and Fisher, Knells, Carlisle, 24 acres, 13 roods, annual value £22.0.0
Edgar George, Longwathby, Carlisle, 6 acres, 36 roods, annual value £29.0.0
Edgar Mrs, Ann, Todhills, 1 acres, 2 roods, annual value £1.10.0
Edgar George, Wigton, 51 acres, 9 roods, annual value £77.0.0
Edgar George, Rockliff Cross, Carlisle, 20 acres, annual value £35.0.0
Edgar Mrs., Skelton, 26 acres, 1 rood, 18 perches, annual value £32.5.0
Edgar Robert, Allonby, 10 acres, 1 rood, 32 perches, annual value £67.7.0
Edger, A., Allonby, 164 acres, 3 roods, 28 perches, annual value £193.0.0
Edger Thomas, Allonby, 18 acres, 32 perches, annual value £34.0.0
Edger William, Carlisle, 12 acres, 2 roods, 12 perches, annual value £18.17.0
DURHAM
Edgar, W., Bishop’s Auckland, 87 acres, 2 roods, 1 perch £389.10.1
Edger, Mrs L A., Gainford, 3 acres, 30 perches £15.0.0
MONMOUTH
Edgar, Miss, Raglan, 11 acres, 1 rood, 33 perches £52.0.0
NORFOLK
Edgar, Exors of Thos, Fakeham, 180 acres, 3 roods, 36 perches £276.0.0
NORTHUMBERLAND
Edgar, John, Greendyke, Haltwhistle, 95 acres, 3 roods, 28 perches £39.10.0
SOMERSET
Edgar, Mrs Joseph, East Sheen, 57 acres, 2 roods, 13 perches £109.18.0
Edgar James, Glastonbury, 14 acres £23.12.0
Edgar Sylvester, Gillingham, 45 acres, 3 roods £123.17.0
SUFFOLK
Edgar, Edmund, Preston, 144 acres, 1 rood, 3 perches £167.2.0
Edgar, Elizabeth, Ipswich, 1312 Acres, 1 rood, 18 perches £2692,18,0
Edgar, John, Thorpe, 12 acres, 3 roods, 14 perches £16.17.0
Edgar, Thomas, Preston, 173 acres, 1 rood, 34 perches £287.17.0
SUSSEX
Edgar, Ebenezer R., Euston Rd., NW., 67 acres, 2 roods, 32 perches £244.0.0
WESTMORELAND
Edgar, George, Milnthorpe, 92 acres, 1 rood, 14 perches £102.10.0
MARRIAGES and CELEBRATIONS
EDGAR – JOHNS
William Henry Ingle Edgar, elder son of Mr and Mrs William Herbert Edgar, of Canonbie, 6 St John’s Avenue, Mont Albert, Vic., was married to Ruth Lilian Johns, only daughter of Mrs Johns and the late Rev Wesley Johns at the Hoban Memorial Chapel, Wesley Church, Melbourne, on Saturday 21 December 1940. The bridegroom is a foundation Member of the Society of Edgar Families, of which his father is Vice-President, and we extend to him and his bridge every good wish for their future happiness. [vide NL pp48-51]
EDGAR – MUNRO [50th Anniversary]
At Nicholson Street, Edinburgh, Scotland, on 31 December 1890, Margaret Munro to Walter Edgar, now of 2 Geneva Rd., Alphington, Vic
EDGAR – LENNOX
At St Patrick’s Church, Wangaratta, Vic., on 23 September 1940, Catherine Elsie, younger daughter of Mrs C Lennox and the late Thomas Lennox, to Arthur D Edgar, youngest son of Mrs A Edgar, of Wangaratta, and the late W G Edgar of Barham, NSW
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OBITUARY
The death of Miss Isabella Edgar, of Babba Mia Estate, Harrow, Vic., took place on 23 November 1940, at the age of 90 years. Miss Edgar, who was born at Pine Hills Station, Harrow, on 11 May 1850, was the third and eldest surviving daughter of David Edgar [1812-1894], who reached Port Phillip from Moffat, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, in December 1838. The history of the family was appended to the News Letter No. 1.
Miss Edgar acquired the Babba Mia property many years ago, She was a member of the Australian Women’s National League, and did much valuable work for the Red Cross during the War of 1914-18.
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NOTABLE EDGARS
GEORGE EDGAR
Journalist and writer of fiction. Born at Warrington, England, 11 June 1877, eldest son on Peter Edgar, of that place. He married Jeannie, youngest daughter of Thomas, D Howard, of Dewsbury, and had issue one son and three daughters. Educated privately and was connected with the provincial press, for many years, and later with London journals. Was editor of “Modern Business” [1909], “Careers” [1910-11] and Associate-editor of the “Advertizers’ Weekly”. He contributed to many daily and weekly journals, stories, sketches, articles, and essays, and wrote on subjects relating to journalism.
Publications included:
“The Blue Bird’s Eye” [1912]
“Martin Harvey” [1912]
“Swift Nick of the New York Road” [1913]
“The Red Colonel” [1913]
“The Pride of Fancy” [1914]
“Kent, the Fighting Man” [1916]
“Honours of War” [1016]
Recreations: Golf, angling
Clubs: Savage, Aldwych
He resided at 2 Chartham Terrace, Ramsgate, and died in April 1918.
[“Who Was Who”, 1916-1928]
JAMES WINTERBORROM EDGAR, MBE
Created MBE on 1 January 1920. He was born 8 July 1872; youngest son of Robert Edgar, of Greenheys, Manchester, England.
WAR WORK
Registration; Hon Investigator and Substinence Officer [National Service]
Hon Sec Flag Days
Hon Inspector [Food Control]
Hon Sec Country Borough of Salford War Savings Committee
Secretarial work, Lancs Fusiliers Prisoners of War Fund
Hon Organiser Lancs Fusiliers “Penny Fund”, also for Lancs Prisoners of War
Resided Downham Villa, Sale, Cheshire,
Club: Old Rectory, Manchester
JONATHAN CYRIL EDGAR, MBE
Created 5 June 1920. Chief Clerk to a section of the Surplus Stores and Salvage, War Office
MAJOR PETER MAXWELL EDGAR, OBE
No biography available.
vide “Burke’s handbook to the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire” [1921]
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