William Bulliar lies here entombed;
Of this church formerly Rector was he;
He caused a new Crucifix to be erected.
He presented a gradual {117a} and cross, and other valuables.
He died the 11th day of December, 1510.
There was also apparently a window to his memory.
Of a later Church, in a state of ruin, there was given an engraving in
the “Gentleman’s Magazine” of August 11, 1801, with brief account of the
church; a copy of which is in the possession of the present rector, the
Rev. R. Gathorne, M.A.; framed, in his study. {117b} In that later
edifice, the pulpit is said to have been a massive one, of stone. But
this, like the monuments given above, has disappeared. Of the present
church, built in 1802, the best we can say is that it is in the style
called “Debased Gothic.” The late rector, the Rev. C. F. R. Baylay,
rural dean, &c., put stone mullions, in place of wood, in the windows, in
1879; when the late bishop, Dr. Christopher Wordsworth, performed the
ceremony of re-opening the church on November 6th, as is recorded on a
brass tablet on the north wall of the nave. The church was, at the same
time, re-seated with open sittings of pitch-pine. The western gallery
was also then removed. Over the west door is a good painting of the
royal arms, of date 1712, with initials “A.R.” (Anne Regina). There is
a slab in the pavement of the nave at its east end, in memory of Rev. T.
Roe, formerly rector. The font is plain octagonal. The ceiling is flat,
of polished pitch-pine. There are three plain windows in the south wall
of the nave, and two in the north wall. The chancel is apsidal, with a
three-light window in the centre, and a small single-light window on each
side. The chancel arch is unusually low, and broad, out of proportion.
The only handsome thing in the church is the communion table, which is of
old oak, probably of the Caroline period, massive, and richly carved,
having a curious cupboard below the upper slab. It is, however, more fit
to be a chiffonier or dining room sideboard, than for its present use.
The church has accommodation for 212, which is amply sufficient, as the
once “Town” of Kirkby has been decreasing in population for many years.
The one bell hangs in an external small turret. The registers date from
1562.
The present rectory is a commodious residence, built in 1827, at a cost
of £1,800. It stands in almost park-like grounds, with fine timber. The
village school was rebuilt in 1870, with residence for the teacher, and
was endowed by Richard Brocklesby with 33 acres of land in the parish of
Bicker. The poor have an interest in the almshouses of Sir Joseph Banks
at Reyesby; also a yearly dole of 5_s._, left by Martha Chamberlain.
The poet Dyer, who was appointed rector of Coningsby, by Sir John
Heathcote in 1752, became rector of Kirkby in 1755, but presently
exchanged it for Belchford. He was the author of “Grongar Hill,” “The
Fleece,” and other poems of some merit, and was honoured in a
complimentary sonnet by Wordsworth, the Laureate.
Another rector, the Rev. Willoughby West, extended his charity beyond his
own parish, since by will dated 30 January, 1690, he founded two
almshouses, for deserving poor persons, in the parish of
Langton-by-Horncastle, (he being one of the patrons of the benefice),
endowed with the rent of land purchased by him “from Geo. Langto of
Langto, Esq.” His burial is registered at Kirkby, 29 May, 1691, and that
of his wife, Mary Ester, “April ye 8th, 1690.”
At “Leeds Gate,” to the south of this parish, in Coningsby, are two
fields, named “Gibbet close,” and “Gibbet nook close,” where probably
some offenders formerly expiated their misdeeds, under the stern hand of
the lord of the manor. {119} The name “Leeds gate,” given in old maps as
“Lidyate,” is probably a corruption of “Our Lady’s gate” (_i.e._ road);
there having been formerly a “Guild of the Virgin Mary,” connected with
Coningsby church. There are also two fields called “Over Coney Green,”
and “Low Coney Green,” which may have reference to the rabbit warren of
Tumby Chase, or to “the King’s Garth,” or inclosure, “Conig,” _i.e._
King, also forming part of the name Coningsby. These field-names are
found in several other parishes. There are fields called “Otter Close,”
“Best Moor,” and “Worst Moor,” the not uncommon “Pingle” (or small
croft), “North Ings,” and “Tumby Ings,” these meaning well-watered
meadows. Another name, not easy to explain, though not uncommon, is
“Pry-close.” It occurs also in Woodhall and elsewhere. One
interpretation which has been suggested is that it may have marked the
place where watch was kept for game, or game-marauders, or like
“Toot-hill,” also found in the vicinity, it may have been a look-out for
cattle, strayed in the time of Fen floods. But another suggestion is
that it is a form of the old Norman “Pre,” a meadow, praie being a kind
of coarse grass. Near Northampton, there are “the verdant meads of de la
Pre,” and in Normandy there was a monastery of “De la Pre de Rouen,”
attached to the abbey of Bec, and the Norman Becs (as we have seen) were
connected with Kirkby and Tumby. There is a “Pry-farm,” in Wiltshire.
What is now only Fulsby mill, in this parish, was formerly and within
living memory also, a public-house, rejoicing in the name of “The Jolly
Sailor.” Here, after the murder of Stennet Jeffery, in “the Wilderness”
of Whitehall Wood, on June 22, 1822, the murderers, who belonged to
Coningsby Moor, stopped for refreshment. They were said to be “bankers,”
_i.e._ navvies, whose chief employment was digging drains, repairing
their banks, &c.; while employed on the Horncastle canal near at hand,
they had doubtless frequented the house before. They were usually rough
and even violent characters, and it is said that Mrs. Copping, the
landlady of the Inn, was aware of their guilt, but too much afraid of
them to mention it. After their visit, some blood-stained clothing was
found concealed in a hedge hard by. Two of these men were convicted of
the murder and transported for life. (See “Records of Woodhall Spa,” by
J. Conway Walter, pp. 16, 17.)
Geologically, Kirkby has some interest; parts of the parish are on the
blue clay, with ammonites and other fossils, while there is also a
stratum of fine gravel, termed the “Bain terraces,” in which teeth of the
“elephas primi-genius” have been found. (“Government Geolog. Survey,”
Lincoln, 1888, pp. 161, &c.)
To the ornithologist and entomologist its interest would seem to be
increasing. The abandonment of the Horncastle canal, which runs through
this parish, is making it a sort of sanctuary where the coot, the
moorhen, the dab-chick, and the mallard resort; the green sand-piper may
be seen, skimming the water, or the king-fisher darting into the
shallows, and the heron, which nests in the adjacent woods, stands like a
silent sentinel on one leg, by its pools, on the watch for its finny
prey. On the reedy banks of the fast silting-up canal, it would hardly
be surprising if that rarity among butterflies, the swallow-tail, which
over-drainage has driven from its former haunts, should once more
re-appear. But we have said enough about Kirkby, and more than exceeded
the measure of space allowed us.