EXACTLY 130 years ago, the builders finishing the roof of the Bowes Museum at Barnard Castle dropped their copy of The Northern Echo.

It lay among the dust and spiders of the decades until it was rediscovered last week.

The roofers had that day - January 31, 1876 - been reading about the "great jewellery robbery at Tudhoe Grange". Two burglars from Wigan had got into a jewellers' in the market and lifted gold watches worth £232 - at least £15,000 today.

In looking for the outcome of the "great jewellery robbery", I found stories headlined "Middlesbrough Borough Accountant and his Defalcations" and "Shebeening in Cleveland - Extraordinary Case".

The roofers understood these long words. In fact, in those pre-sudoku and crossword days, we can even guess that their tea-break entertainment was spelling out those words. For in early 1876 the "spelling bee" craze swept the nation.

"Last evening, this latest of American inventions was introduced to Darlington where a 'bee' was held in the Mechanics' Hall," reported the Echo on January 27.

Entrants stood on the stage and spelled words called by an adjudicator. One wrong, and you were out. The prizes for the last man standing were special: when the first bee was held in Middlesbrough a couple of days later, the ladies competed for "a portfolio of engravings illustrating Scott's Lady of the Lake, value 25s"; the men for a "travelling dressing case, 25s" and the juveniles a "Collins' Library Atlas, 21s".

Saltburn, Ripon, Whitby all held their first bees that week.

Originally, a 'been' was a 'boon' - the voluntary help given to a farmer at hay-making or harvest-time by his neighbours. To thank them, he provided an evening's food and entertainment. Soon, a been - or bee - became any themed evening in the US: Wednesday's episode of Desperate Housewives began with a "knitting bee".

The first spelling bee was held in Massachusetts in 1874, and the craze spread dramatically.

"On the first lady spelling 'assent' correctly, she was greeted with a round of applause which was repeated whenever a fair competitor managed a difficult word," said the Echo of the Darlington bee.

The report concludes: "There remained but one lady and she, unfortunately, was unable to master 'pneumonitis', and retired, gaining, however, the sympathetic cheers of the audience. 'Procenium' for 'proscenium' reduced the competitors to three; 'marcotry' for 'marquetry' left two; and after an exciting struggle, 'chlorodyne' with an 'i' demolished one of the remaining combatants and left the field in possession of the winner (John Edgar of Richmond) who was loudly cheered."

But at Darlington's second bee a week later, a dispute developed over 'diachylon'. "Mr Fisher stoutly denied having put two 'c's in. The referee at first decided in his favour, a result which the audience positively refused to have.

"Mr Fisher was compelled to retire, which he did under protest and amid the hisses of the audience."

This was a hint of the nastiness to come.

"Fatal result of a spelling bee quarrel," said the Echo on February 15.

James Tait and Samuel Donley were taking part in a bee in a pub in Shotton Colliery. "A word was put to Donley, and he failed to give satisfaction in his spelling, and also refused to stand drinks - the wager," said the paper.

The dispute spilled onto the street where Tait threw a brick at Donley, fracturing his skull. He died the following day.

Pitman Tait was sentenced to 14 months hard labour for an offence which always needs a little spelling out: m-a-n-s-l-a-u-g-h-t-e-r.