extracted from the Appletree Press title Hiring Fairs and Market Places by May Blair. COUNTY LONDONDERRY Magherafelt is a good example of Planters’ planning, the Salters having created a large Square (or Diamond) from which the main streets radiate. A castle was built in the centre of the town, though no one took possession of it until the reign of Charles I. A castle and a few wooden houses were also built at Salterstown on the shore of Lough Neagh but the proposed town was never built. A recent dig by archaeologists revealed the foundations of the original houses. In 1641 the castle in Magherafelt was wrecked, the rector of the parish church murdered, and the church itself (which had been dedicated to St Swithin, the patron saint of the Salters’ Company) burnt to the ground. However the town flourished in spite of these setbacks, due in no small measure to its linen trade, its markets and its fairs. Thursday was the general market day, with special days set aside for set commodities. Sam Brown remembers the markets well. His memories span most of the twentieth century:       ‘The grass seed market was always on a Monday in Magherafelt. All the farmers roun’ about had in loads of grass seed. It was all horses an’ loads. It woulda’ been from the market yard right up till the Diamond. There wud a’ been a row of horses an’ carts all stannin’ along gettin’ weighed an’ gettin’ delivered. The men come from Belfast an’ wud a’ punched the bag wi’ a scoop they had; throw the seed on a black sheet an’ they wud a’ bought it at such ‘n a price an’ that was every Monday during the summer (from August ’til the grass seed finished). About two months redd it up. The same men come to Cookstown on a Tuesday an’ bought it there too.’ If he was free, Sam liked to attend the hiring fairs in Magherafelt, Maghera and Cookstown, whether or not he needed to hire. On one occasion he hired on condition that he was allowed to go to Magherafelt Fair on the day before he started work. The woman (a widow) had come to see Sam in the hope that he would hire with her. When he saw her he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hire with her or not. Sam was small. She was tall and well built and looked as though she could tackle any job on the farm herself. He’d heard the talk about Paddy Wilson having been hired with her, and Paddy was a great man with a scythe. As these thoughts were running through Sam’s head she suddenly spoke:       ‘I’ve no mowing machine. I’ve about seventy acres of land. My husband died and I have to carry on. I’ve four daughters and a son. I pay good money. What are you looking?’       Says I, ‘Ten poun’.’       ‘Big money,’ says she.       ‘Well,’ says I, ‘if you can get anybody at less that’s up to you. I’m a horse man an’ any other way it comes.’       Says she, ‘I’ve a young horse an’ I’m feedin’ him for ‘The Moy’ [Fair]. He’s sixteen hands high an’ nobody can ride him.’       ‘Then you couldn’t sell him,’ says I. Sam liked the challenge of ‘breaking in’ the horse and decided to go, provided she allowed him to go to Magherafelt Fair the next day. He remembers that fair well, for someone in the throng tried to steal his pocket watch: There was that big a crowd that you had to go through it sideways through the stalls. I felt a pluck and there my watch chain was cut in two. But she was that well in the breast pocket they didn’t get ’er out. Then there was shootin’ galleries an’ there was everything to ketch [catch] the money. I didn’t bother me head wi’ them. There was Pretty Lizzie an’ Hairy Mary. That was a hairy family. They were figures of wee men an’ weemin wi’ curly hair on them. Anyway they were all stannin’ up in a row. ‘A penny buys three more. Where are all the lucky lads? Three shots a penny.’ You give a penny, an’ you got three of these balls that you clodded [threw] at them. Then a man at the side pulled a cord an’ they all stud up again. I didn’t spend much. I might have bought a penknife; very little. You maybe got a cup o’ tay an’ you went through an’ watched these boys. Then away at the west corner – it used to be called Douglas’s Corner; an’ then the Constitution Corner – the like o’ me if I was goin’ to hire, I wud a’ had a red tie roun’ me neck tied, an’ a bunnel [bundle] annunder [under] me arm. You wud a’ went an’ stud along that fut-pad maybe two or three row deep. Out the’ come. This was the oul farmers. ‘Are ye hired? Wud ye engage? Can ye lead a horse an’ cart? Can ye plough?’ An’ the’ wud say, ‘I can plough an’ mow corn. I can put on a sheet an’ sow it wi’ the han’.’ That was in 1912. I just went till it to see how things was goin’ on. An’ the whole fun of it was – there was an oul fella an’ an oul hussy up at the Fair Hill – fernenst the Fair Hill School. The’ called him Davy Berry. He had a corduroy kep [cap] an’ corduroy coat an’ corduroy trousers. An’ the wife an’ him fell out an’ he was away a piece an’ she had a stick – she was threat’nin’ him. An’ what she wud do! Then a wheen of us was comin’ up walkin’ home at night tired, an’ there she was, busy liltin’ a fancy tune an’ he was dancin’ on an oul tin lid. An’ we stopped. If you’d a’ heerd the dances o’ that! Step-dancin’! A lid about three fut wide. He was step-dancin’ an’ she was liltin’ a fancy tune. That finished it up an’ we come on home. A lot of the boys woulda got drunk an’ started fightin’ an’ you were better out of it. You could get into trouble.       Anyway I started wi’ Mrs Sloss the next day. Then wan night that year I went to Coagh. There was a bit of a carry-on an’ a band practice. I went into John R. Elliott’s shop for a message. John R. Elliott’s son (Rowley Elliott) was a member of the Stormont Parliament an’ the word come that the Titanic had hit an iceberg an’ was split in two. So that night Coagh was in an uproar. We were all late of comin’ home. I come home to Sloss’s where I was workin’ at the time. Slosses was all in bed but they had left the back door open that I cud get in. I took off my shoes an’ slipped up the stairs. Some of them slept in the room below. One of the girls spakes up, ‘Sam, is there anything wrong in Coagh the night? You’re late.’       ‘A terrible thing,’ says I. ‘The Titanic’s sunk.’ Well the’ all got up an’ it was two o’clock in the mornin’ before the’ went to bed. It was powerful. Ever so many men had lost their lives.       It come on then till the twelfth of November an’ Mrs Sloss says, ‘Are ye stayin’ on?’       ‘Naw,’ says I, ‘Am not stayin’.’       ‘An’ what’s wrong wi’ your house?’       ‘Not a ha’p’oth,’ says I. ‘It’s a tarrible good house.’       But her an’ me had had our ups an’ downs. Says I, ‘You have a son an’ he’s fond of a horse. An’,’ says I, ‘I’m fond of a horse. Him an’ me wud be fightin’ over these horses.’       ‘Ye’ll get all the horse work ye want.’       ‘I’m the pickle nixt the wind,’ says I. ‘I’ll go. Your son’s entitled to the horses. The horses is yours an’ they’ll be his.’ So I left. The house was a brave piece aff the road and they left me to the road.       ‘You’ll be back,’ they said. ‘I might be back an’ I might not be back.’ I said; an’ away I went.       It wasn’t as easy to find a good place to hire as Sam thought and to be truthful he was embarrassed at the situation in which he found himself. It reminded him of an old poem called ‘Magherafelt Hiring Fair’ that he had heard many years before. It is thought to have been written about 1800. Extracted from the Appletree Press title Hiring Fairs and Market Places by May Blair. Previous extracts regarding County Londonderry/Derry: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 Forthcoming extracts regarding County Londonderry: Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

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