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  • #6773
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      While Liz’ was playing possum at the mere mention of her mother, Godfrey was burying himself more deeply in the exploration of Liz’ old writing.

      Remembering his role as her publisher did something to him. Somehow, even peanuts didn’t capture his interest as much nowadays, but the exploration of the stories themselves had put a literal spell on him.

      He was for one, marveling at Liz’ capability to jump straight into writing, and especially her early works were quite difficult to understand because of that free-flowing ability, unencumbered by such worries as continuity or even characters consistency. While his own interest was more about providing a finished product, somehow the works of Elizabeth Tattler had defeated every attempts at that.

      What I need is a map… He’d thought. To be able to contextualize a random quote from any of her opus, give it a sense of direction. If we assume the reader is carried into a journey, writing that same journey would require a map of sorts. But the writing are as much about revealing the map, some parts hidden by the relief or terrain, as they are about providing a direction…

      That’s when he looked at his phone messages. 357 unread. Liz’ had been playing with images rerolls in this new app. He sighed looking at the last image. An unexplainable creature and a jelly bean cart in an odd landscape.

      There was no map big enough to contain her genius creativity he reckoned. There was some relief in that too.

      #6661

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      The black BMW pulled up outside the Flying Fish Inn.  Sister Finli pulled a baseball cap low over her big sunglasses before she got out of the car. Yasmin was still in the bar with her friends and Finli hoped to check in and retreat to her room before they got back to the inn.

      She rang the bell on the reception desk several times before an elderly lady in a red cardigan appeared.

      “Ah yes, Liana Parker,” Mater said, checking the register.    Liana managed to get a look at the register and noted that Yasmin was in room 2. “Room 4. Did you have a good trip down? Smart car you’ve got there,”   Mater glanced over Liana’s shoulder, “Don’t see many like that in these parts.”

      “Yes, yes,” Finli snapped impatiently (henceforth referred to to as Liana). She didn’t have time for small talk. The others might arrive back at any time. As long as she kept out of Yasmin’s way, she knew nobody would recognize her ~ after all she had been abandoned at birth. Even if Yasmin did find her out, she only knew her as a nun at the orphanage and Liana would just have to make up some excuse about why a nun was on holiday in the outback in a BMW.  She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

      Mater looked over her glasses at the new guest. “I’ll show you to your room.”  Either she was rude or tired, but Mater gave her the benefit of the doubt.  “I expect you’re tired.”

      Liana softened and smiled at the old lady, remembering that she’d have to speak to everyone in due course in order to find anything out, and it wouldn’t do to start off on the wrong foot.

      “I’m writing a book,” Liana explained as she followed Mater down the hall. “Hoping a bit of peace and quiet here will help, and my book is set in the outback in a place a bit like this.”

      “How lovely dear, well if there’s anything we can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.  Old Bert’s a mine of information,”   Mater suppressed a chuckle, “Well as long as you don’t mention mines.  Here we are,” Mater opened the door to room 4 and handed the key to Liana.  “Just ask if there’s anything you need.”

      Liana put her bags down and then listened at the door to Mater’s retreating steps.  Inching the door open, she looked up and down the hallway, but there was nobody about.  Quickly she went to room 2 and tried the door, hoping it was open and she didn’t have to resort to other means. It was open.  What a stroke of luck! Liana was encouraged. Within moments Liana found the parcel, unopened.  Carefully opening the door,  she looked around to make sure nobody was around, leaving the room with the parcel under her arm and closing the  door quietly, she hastened back to room 4.   She nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice piped up behind her.

      “What’s that parcel and where are you going with it?” Prune asked.

      “None of your business you….”  Liana was just about to say nosy brat, and then remebered that she would catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It was going to be hard for her to remember that, but she must try!  She smiled at the teenager and said, “A dreamtime gift for my gran, got it in Alice. Is there a post office in town?”

      Prune narrowed her eyes. There was something fishy about this and it didn’t take her more than a second to reach the conclusion that she wanted to see what was in the parcel.  But how?

      “Yes,” she replied, quick as a flash grabbing the parcel from Liana. “I’ll post it for you!” she called over her shoulder as she raced off down the hall and disappeared.

      “FUCK!” Liana muttered under her breath, running after her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully nobody else was about in the reception area to question why she was running around like a madwoman.  Fuck! she muttered again, going back to her room and closing the door. Now what? What a disaster after such an encouraging start!

      Prune collided with Idle on the steps of the verandah, nearly knocking her off her feet. Idle grabbed Prune to steady herself.  Her grip on the girls arm tightened when she saw the suspicious look on face.   Always up to no good, that one. “What have you got there? Where did you get that? Give me that parcel!”

      Idle grabbed the parcel and Prune fled. Idle, holding onto the verandah railing, watched Prune running off between the eucalyptus trees.  She’s always trying to  make a drama out of everything, Idle thought with a sigh. Hardly any wonder I suppose, it must be boring here for a teenager with nothing much going on.

      She heard a loud snorting laugh, and turned to see the four guests returning from the bar in town, laughing and joking.  She put the parcel down on the hall table and waved hello, asking if they’d had a good time.  “I bet you’re ready for a bite to eat, I’ll go and see what Mater’s got on the menu.” and off she went to the kitchen, leaving the parcel on the table.

      The four friends agreed to meet back on the verandah for drinks before dinner after freshening up.   Yasmin kept glancing back at the BMW.  “That woman must be staying here!” she snorted.  Zara grabbed her elbow and pulled her along. “Then we’ll find out who she is later, come on.”

      Youssef followed Idle into the kitchen to ask for some snacks before dinner (much to Idle’s delight), leaving Xavier on the verandah.  He looked as if he was admiring the view, such as it was, but he was preoccupied thinking about work again. Enough! he reminded himself to relax and enjoy the holiday. He saw the parcel on the table and picked it up, absentmindedly thinking the black notebook he ordered had arrived in the post, and took it back to his room. He tossed it on the bed and went to freshen up for dinner.

      #6623

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      “I don’t know if it’s this place, but I never had so much trouble of keeping track of time…” Xavier mused.

      As soon as he’d came back to the Inn after his errand with the bird, he’d finally caught up with Yasmin and Zara. Both of them were in their rooms, and they wasted no time to get going. Zara had called Youssef who was still at the shop, so they could all meet outside for drinks.

      As soon as Youssef arrived, it was a huge rally cry of joy throughout the four of them.

      “Funny” Xavier said pointing at Youssef’s chest. “This one isn’t letting you go, despite all the huggin’ — the glitter speck on your bear, I mean…” The others were looking at him like he’d been alien or something. “The glitter? Am I the only one to see it? Oh forget it…”

      While the others were chatting about their day, Xavier was thinking about some of the bugs he had to fix in his program, as well as a flurry of ideas to improve the system. Coincidentally, Youssef had mentioned commissioning his help to do a robo-version of him to automatically answer his pesky and peppy boss. Well, he could probably do that, his friend didn’t seem too complex to model. As for doing his job… that was a stretch.

      The gales of laughters, occasional snorting and clinks of the pints brought him back to reality.

      While Zara was explaining all about the Carts race of the festival to Youssef, Yasmin leaned on conspiratorially:

      “Over there, — don’t look, be casual — yes, behind me,… have you noticed that lady? She seems bizarre and a tad familiar, no? You haven’t met her before, like in the game or something?”

      #6613

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      Despite the old man’s endless flow of words, Youssef couldn’t get him to explain what he meant about the abandoned mine and why the town’s people didn’t like people sneaking around and asking questions.

      Not wanting to waste more time, Youssef walked to the brick building where the twins had disappeared. It was crammed between the telegraph station and a grocery store. The door had been walled with red bricks. They were covered in faded graffitis and layers of torn-up posters. It seemed obvious the wall had been there for quite some time already.

      The old man was sticking to Youssef like glue, talking about that time when his now dead brother took in an old cat he called Phineas. Youssef tried to growl him away, but the man always came back, persistent as a cloud of mosquitoes over the promise of a blood feast.

      Youssef tried not to pay attention to him. What did AL said about that quest ? Go ask questions around to town’s people about odd things happening ? Well there were plenty of those things happening. Maybe the clerk at the telegraph station would know something, especially how to get rid of that old man.

      Youssef pushed the door and entered the telegraph station, leaving the old man outside. The interior was lit with a collection of old style tungsten lamps hanging in a random pattern from the ceiling. 

      The clerk was busy sorting out a pile of telegrams. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. He lifted his head up. The noise stopped and Youssef realised the young man had mechanical hands.

      “Welcome, welcome, welcome! What can I do for you today, my friend?” asked the clerk.

      “I just wanted to…” started Youssef.

      “Wait! Don’t tell me. I’m a bit of a psychic myself and I already know what you’re here for.”

      “Really?”

      The man foraged through his pile of telegram with his mechanical hands and picked one. He looked at it for a few seconds.

      “My friend, you’re in luck today!” he said, looking intently at Youssef. “I just received this telegram that I think might interest you. Here, take a look!”

      Youssef took the paper and started to read aloud : “Words spoken by the talkative will unlock the path. Seek those who chatter and unravel the clue. What the…?” 

      “Interesting, isn’t it? That’s a real head-scratcher, if you ask me!”

      The door bell rang and the old man entered, holding his sore ribs. 

      “Get out, Phineas. You’re not welcome here.” said the clerk with a frown.

      The old man looked at the clerk with an air of confusion before turning to Youssef. “What did he say? Who’s Phineas?” he asked.

      Ignoring the question, Youssef tried to steer the conversation back to the telegram. “What does this mean?” he asked the clerk.

      The clerk stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “Hmm, well, it seems to me that you have a certain magnetism for talkative people. Perhaps that’s the key to unlocking this riddle.”

      Youssef’s eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean, magnetism?”

      The old man interjected, “For sure! You’re like a magnet, my boy. I can’t seem to stop talking when I’m around you.”

      Youssef rolled his eyes. “So, what do I do? Just wander around town and wait for someone to start talking?”

      The clerk nodded. “That could be a good start. But if you’re looking for something specific, you might want to try Betsy when you wake up. She’s got a boutique of Gems and Rocks. You seem to like them rocks,” he said pointing at the black obsidian. “Found it in a mine?”

      The old man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, the old mine! I’ve been there before, you know. My brother used to work there before he died. Strange things happening there.”

      Youssef’s interest was piqued. “What kind of strange things?”

      The old man leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s a magnetar hidden in that mine, my boy.”

      “Shut up! Phineas,” interrupted the clerk. “If you want my advice, stranger, don’t go near the old mine. ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ if you know what I mean.”

      The telegraph receiver started to make clicketing sounds. The clerk read it and looked at Youssef.

      “You’ve got a message man. Time to wake up.”

      “Wake up?”

      :fleuron2:

      Youssef opened his eyes and looked at a black mass in front of his eyes. He had been sleeping with the stone just beside his head on the pillow. No wonder he had had weird dreams. He heard his phone buzz. He sat up reluctantly and looked at his phone. 8am. A notification that his game progression had been saved and several messages from Miss Tartiflate, the last one saying :

      Don’t think you can dodge work. I’m still expecting the last blog post you’ve been paid to write!!!”

      He groaned as reality was starting to catch up.

      #6559

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      Why do I always pick the cart with the wonky wheel, Zara thought, but she wasn’t going to go back and get another one and keep Sergio and Yasmin waiting outside. She zigzagged up and down the aisles until she came to the wine.  What was it the old dear back at the Inn was saying about the alcohol laws in Alice?  Well, surely that didn’t apply to tourists.  There were two men chatting in the middle of the aisle and Zara deftly skirted around them without the unpredictable cart crashing.  While she was perusing the wines hoping to find a nice Rioja, she couldn’t help but overhear the clear ringing tones of one of the men saying “True love never dies!” and a few other things which she later forgot, which she thought was quite an odd topic for two men to be discussing in the Piggly supermarket in the outback of all places.  The man with the poetic voice went on his way, leaving the other man with the little girl in the child seat of the cart ready to move on, but Zara’s cart was straddled across the aisle so she quickly moved it out of the way and continued scanning the wine selection.  A clear sweet voice rang out behind her. “Thank you.”  She turned, and her eyes met those of the girl (afterwards Zara could have sworn the child was 10 or 11, and surely too big to be sitting in the baby seat, but yet felt sure the child had indeed been sitting in the cart).  They exchanged a deep meaningful smile of magical proportions that defied explaining in mere words.  Later when Zara told Yasmin about it, she said it was “one of those moments, you know?” and Yasmin understood what she meant.  The child seemed somehow familiar, and there was that shimmery timeless oddness to the encounter which made Zara feel a bemused lightness.

      child in supermarket

       

      Zara was still gazing at the rows of wine bottles when Yasmin caught up with her. “What’s taking you so long, you haven’t even got anything in your cart yet!”

      Snapping her attention back, Zara asked Yasmin to help her choose the wine, asking her, “Do you ever feel like you can’t tell the difference between the game and real life?  Like sometimes a scene in real life isn’t quite real?”

      “I dunno about the game but real life seems strange enough. That woman outside with the BMW hire car that was in the loo before me, there was something familiar about her, something creepy.  And look what I found in the cubicle,”  Yasmin looked around quickly to make sure they were alone and pulled something out of her pocket.

      crucifix

       

      “Looks like the chain broke, is it gold? Might be worth something,” Zara was missing the point.

      “It’s a crucifix.”

      “If it’s gold it can be melted down and made into something else,” said Zara missing the point again.

      “It’s the same as the ones the nuns at the orphanage wear,” Yasmins whisper turned into a nervous snort.

      “I wonder who dropped it and what they were doing here.  That tart in the BMW didn’t look like a nun to me.”  Zara almost snorted too (was it contagious?) and then wondered why tart and nun sounded vaguely familiar and why yellow cabs had popped into her mind.  “Come on, we’ve kept Sergio waiting long enough already.”

      After all the deliberation over which wine to choose, they grabbed a half dozen bottles each without further ado and went to the checkout.

      #6550

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      “I’ve got something to tell you, too.   Come on, you can meet him. He’s waiting in the car,” Zara told Yasmin as they made their way out of the arrivals hall at Alice Springs airport.

      “Who the dickens is Sergio?” Yasmin replied, and then added, “You tart!” when Zara explained.

      “That’s rich, coming from you, you old slapper,” Zara laughed, giving Yasmin an affectionate elbow poke.  “He’s leaving tomorrow, so when he phoned this morning inviting me out sightseeing, I couldn’t refuse.  Xavier and Youssef weren’t up yet when I left, lazy buggers.  They’re an odd family at the Inn, and it’s a funny old place. Some strange undercurrents though, I can’t put my finger on it. Secrets, you know? Why, what’s up?”  Yasmin had given her a funny look, but as they had just reached the hire car, Yasmin whispered “Tell you later!”

      #6538
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “That’s all Jorid had to say?” Georges mused at the sudden philosophical quote that read:

        And doesn’t this point to something fundamentally tragic about our way of life? We live under an assumed identity, in a neurotic fairy tale world with no more reality than the Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland. Hypnotized by the thrill of building, we have raised the houses of our lives on sand. This world can seem marvelously convincing until death collapses the illusion and evicts us from our hiding place. What will happen to us then if we have no clue of any deeper reality? (The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying)

        “I don’t know about this Mock Turtle, but those snapping sand ones that have been lurking about do look rather nasty. We shouldn’t waste any more time.”

        Klatu opined “Klatu agrees with your female, sand turtle are lovely traps of death. Come with me now!” He intimated them to run into a sand opening he’d just made.

        “Let me guess,” Georges said, “is it the equivalent of a Zathu prison? What powerful people could Léonard possibly have rubbed the wrong way this time?”

        “Not prison.” Klatu commented “Death sentence.”

        Salomé pointed out a glowing twirl of sand shaped as an ovoid form, inside which a human form could be discerned. “That would explain why he’s not more guarded…”

        They approached carefully, expecting some extra booby trap, but nothing seemed to react to their presence, not even the moving sand egg.

        “Let me guess,” Georges said, expecting a chorus

        “DIMENSIONAL MAGIC!”

        Klatu shushed them “Quiet stupids! Sound waves attract good turtles.”

        “Is our friend OK? How do we break the spell?” Salomé asked Klatu. “Can you help?”

        Klatu took a few minutes to inspect the shape, hopping carefully around it, and probing with soft whistling sounds.

        “Friend in stasis for now. Kept fresh for questioning… possible.”

        “Then we must hurry, how can we free him? Can I brute force this?” Georges asked, looking around for something to pierce the sand barrier and hook Léonard out of it.

        “Only if you like sushi friend.” Klatu said, raising shoulders. “No finesse these primates.”

        Klatu moved around the shape, taking some tools from his belt and making some elaborate plaits of sounds, as if trying to match the energy signature of the sand prison.

        After a first belt of soundwaves was wrapped around, it seemed as though a first layer of the spell broke, and sand rained back into the external construct they were it. But a thin layer was still there, shifting and pulsating, almost clear as glass, and sharp as a razor blade.

        “Crude encoding, but solid. Need more time.” Klatu seemed exhausted.

        Georges was getting anxious for some activity. “Houses built on sand… Well I guess Jorid didn’t find the best quote to help…”

        Salomé who was sitting cross-legged, trying for some time to connect to Léonard in his stasis, turned to Georges in disbelief. “Georges, you’re a genius!”

        “What now?”

        “Jorid gave us the last bit we needed.  Until death collapses the illusion and evicts us from our hiding place. Remember? It’s risky but that could work!”

        “Oh, I see what you’re thinking about. It’s mad, and it’s brilliant at the same time, how do we go about this?”

        “I can’t reach Léonard, but maybe the both of us can.” Salomé joined hands with Georges.

        “If he’s like anything I remember, he’d be in his mental palace, his workshop on the Duane… or in Marseille… or with Madame Jamelie…”

        “Focus, Georges!”

        “Duane it is, that’s where he did his best work.”

        “We need to focus our energy to make him appear dead to the construct. It’ll be easier if we can locate precisely where his mind wanders.” Salomé said.

        “He’ll be there, I know it. Let’s do this!”

        The two of them joined hands and melded their minds, one as always, turning into a dark mirror of the abyss, bending light unto itself, leaving the void of creation at the place where Léonard was suspended.

        Klatu looked at the scene suspiciously, but started to giggle as he saw the last layer he couldn’t open finally shatter and dissolve to the ground.

        “Little apes full of surprises,… very awful, so very awful.” he said approvingly.

        As his friends rushed to him, Léonard was on the ground, inert, but apparently alive.

        #6536

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        Youssef hadn’t changed a bit since they last met in real life. He definitely brought the bear in the bear hug he gave Xavier after Xavier had entered the soft sandal wood scented atmosphere of the Indian restaurant.

        It was like there’d seen each other the day before, and conversation naturally flew without a thought on the few years’ hiatus between their last trip.

        As they inquired about each other’s lives and events on the trip to get to Alice Springs, they ordered cheese nan, salted and mango lassi, a fish biryani and chicken tikka masala and a side thali for Youssef who was again ravenous after the jumpy ride. Soon after, the discussion turned to the road ahead.

        “How long to the hostel?” asked Youssef, his mouth full of buns.

        Xavier looked at his connected watch “It’s about 1 and half hour drive apparently. I called the number to check when to arrive, they told me to arrive before sunset… which I guess gives us 2-3 hours to visit around… I mean,” he looked at his friend “… we can also go straight there.”

        Youssef nodded. He seemed to have had already enough of interactions in the past day.

        Xavier continued “so it’s settled, we leave after we finish here. According to the landlady, it looks like Zara went off trekking, she didn’t seem too sure about Zara’s whereabouts. That would explain why we heard so little from her.”

        Youssef laughed “If they don’t know Zara, I can bet they’ll be running around searching for her in the middle of the night.”

        Xavier looked though the large window facing the street pensively. “I’m not sure I would want to get lost away from the beaten tracks here. There’s something so alien to the scale of it, and the dryness. Have you noticed we’re next to a river? I tried to have a look when I arrived, but it’s mostly dried up. And it’s supposed to be the wet season…”

        Youssef didn’t reply, and turned to the leftovers of the biryani.

        Despite the offering to top it off with gulab jamun and rose ice cream, it didn’t take too long to finish the healthy meal at the Indian restaurant. Youssef and Xavier went for the car.

        “Here, catch!” Xavier threw the keys to Youssef. He knew his friend would have liked to drive; meanwhile he’d be able to catch on some emails and work stuff. After all, he was supposed to remote work for some days.

        #6515

        In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Yasmin offered the following quirk: “sounding like a lunatic when I share synchs” (synchronicity) – getting excited when she gets “answers”, and willing to share generously. She wouldn’t fake it, as she’s not capable of lying and stuff like synchs are sacrosanct in her mind.
          Setting for the game is the next random quote from the story.

          Quirk accepted.

          In the Land of Quirk, Yasmin finds herself in the heart of a hidden library, deep in the basement of the Flying Fish Inn. The library is filled with books and artifacts related to the study of synchronicities and the beyond.

          As Yasmin delves deeper into the library, she comes across an ancient book that seems to hold the secrets of the universe. She eagerly opens it, but finds that it is written in a code that she cannot understand.

          The librarian, a wise old owl, appears and greets Yasmin. He tells her that the book is the Key to the Beyond and that only the purest of heart can decode it. He explains that the code can only be unlocked by finding the missing pieces of a puzzle scattered throughout the library.

          Yasmin’s task is to find the missing pieces of the puzzle and put them together to unlock the code. Along the way, she will meet various characters who will provide her with clues and challenges.

          Proof of completion in real life: Yasmin must find a real-life object that relates to a synchronicity that she experiences while on her quest in the Land of Quirk. She must then share this synchronicity with her friends at the Flying Fish Inn to prove that she has completed her quest.

          Good luck, Yasmin!

          #6502
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Chapter 4: There is no place like home

            A Visit to Duckailingtown

            The group arrives in the small city of Duckailingtown, known for its unusual name and the legendary wooden leg carpenter, Dumbass Voldomeer.
            Maryechka, is shown by Liliya and Lina the local museum where they learn about the famous wooden leg carpenter and the swan flu outbreak that left the President incapacitated.
            The group visits the workshop of Dumbass Voldomeer and they are shocked to find that he is the spitting image of the President.
            Dumbass Voldomeer tells them about his connection to the President and how he was approached to take his place as the President.
            The group learns about the Rootian border and the close relationship between Rootia and Dumbass, and the possibility of a future cross-border conflict.
            The group visits the swan sanctuary and learns about the mysterious swan flu virus that has affected the President and the citizens of Dumbass.
            The group makes a decision to continue their journey to Rootia to find a cure for the swan flu and save the President.

            Cross-border Conflict

            The group crosses the Rootian border and finds themselves in the midst of a conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
            They meet with a Rootian diplomat who explains the conflict and the role of the President in resolving it.
            The group encounters Myroslava who is still being pursued by her pursuers and they team up to find a cure for the swan flu.
            They visit the Rootian medical facility where they meet with the chief medical officer who explains the research being done on the swan flu virus.
            The group travels to a remote location where they meet with Olek, the caretaker of the Flovlinden Tree, and learns about the sacred oil that is believed to have healing properties.
            The group collects the sacred oil and returns to the medical facility where they successfully cure the President and put an end to the conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
            The group returns home, proud of their accomplishment and the newfound knowledge and experiences they have gained on their journey.

            A Homecoming Celebration

            The group returns home and is greeted with open arms by their families and friends.
            Maryechka, Liliya, and Lina visit Egna who is thrilled to hear about their journey and the success of their mission.
            The group shares their experiences and knowledge with their friends and families, and they all celebrate their homecoming together.
            Dumbass Voldomeer visits the group and thanks them for their help in resolving the conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
            The group visits the Flovlinden Tree and pays homage to Olek and the sacred oil that played a critical role in their journey.
            Maryechka, Liliya, and Lina reflect on their journey and the life-long friendships they have formed.
            The group concludes their journey and looks forward to their future adventures and discoveries.

            #6500
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              More developments

              Chapter 3: The Journey becomes more eggciting

              The Flovlinden Tree

              The group reaches the Flovlinden Tree, a massive linden tree in the heart of Oocrane, which is said to be sacred and is attracting crowds of pilgrims.
              They meet Olek, the old caretaker of the tree, who tells them the story of Saint Edigna. He explains how the tree is said to have magical healing properties, and how the tree is responsible for the sacred oil that the pilgrims come to collect.
              However, Olek reveals that the secret of Saint Edigna is not what it seems. Edna, an old woman who has been living far from the crowd for thousands of years, is actually Saint Edigna.
              Olek shares that Edna has been living in solitude for very long. He tells the group that if they want to learn more about the sacred tree and Edna, they must travel to her hidden home.
              The four friends were shocked to hear that Edna was still alive and wanted to meet her. They asked Olek for directions, and he gave them a map that showed the way to Edna’s remote dwelling.
              They bid farewell to Olek and set off on their journey to find Edna.

              A Run-In with Myroslava

              The group comes across a former war reporter, Myroslava, who is traveling on her own after leaving a group of journalists. She is being followed by mysterious individuals and is trying to lose them by hunting and making fire in bombed areas.
              Myroslava is frustrated and curses her lack of alcohol, wishing she could find a place to escape from her pursuers.
              The group approaches Myroslava and offers to help her. She joins forces with them and together, they set off on their journey.
              As they travel, Myroslava shares her experiences as a war reporter, and the group listens in awe. She explains how she has seen the worst of humanity, but also the best, and how it has changed her as a person.
              Myroslava and the group continue their journey, with the former reporter becoming more and more determined to shake off her pursuers and continue on her own.

              A Visit with Eusebius Kazandis’ Relatives

              The group reaches a small village where they are expected by relatives of Eusebius Kazandis, the cauldron seller that Rose has met at the Innsbruck fair.
              The relatives tell the group about Kazandis and his business, and how he has been traveling the world, selling his wares. They explain how he has become a legend in their village, and how proud they are of him.
              The group learns about Kazandis’ passion for cooking and how he uses his cauldrons to create delicious meals for his customers. They are also shown his secret recipe book, which has been passed down for generations.
              The relatives invite the group to try some of Kazandis’ famous dishes, and they are blown away by the delicious flavors.
              The group thanks the relatives for their hospitality and sets off on their journey, with a newfound appreciation for Kazandis and his love of cooking.

              A Surprising Encounter with Edna

              The group finally reaches Edna’s hidden home, a small cottage in the middle of a dense forest.
              As they approach the cottage, they are surprised to see Edna, who is actually the legendary Saint Edigna, standing outside, waiting for them.

              The four friends have finally arrived at Edna’s dwelling, where they learned about her vast knowledge of the families connected to her descendants. Edna showed them her books, and they were amazed to find that their own family was listed among her descendants. They were even more shocked to learn that they were related to President Voldomeer Zumbasky and Dumbass Voldomeer, who was said to be a distant relative and carpenter who made the President’s wooden leg. It was rumored that they shared a common ancestor, but in reality, they were possibly secret twins.

              The Secret of Dumbass Voldomeer

              The four friends were determined to find out more about Dumbass Voldomeer and his connection to their family. They learned that he lived in the small city of Duckailingtown in Dumbass, near the Rootian border. They also discovered that Dumbass Voldomeer had been enrolled to take the place of the President, who had succumbed from a mysterious swan flu virus, to which Dumbass Voldomeer was immune. As they set to Duckailingtown, they couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets and surprises lay ahead for them on this incredible journey.

              #6379

              In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Asking to give each of the 4 characters some particular traits that makes them uniquely distinctive and recognizable

                The four friends, Zara, Xavier, Yasmin, and Youssef, each have their own unique traits that make them stand out and recognizable.

                Zara is the leader of the group, she is confident, and always ready for an adventure. She is a natural leader and has a strong sense of justice. She is also a tech-savvy person, always carrying a variety of gadgets with her, and is always the first to try out new technology.

                Xavier is the joker of the group, always cracking jokes and making puns. He is a free-spirited person who is always up for an adventure, he has a great sense of humor and is not afraid to be himself. He is also an artist and often carries a sketchbook and pencils with him, he likes to draw whatever he sees in his journeys.

                Yasmin is the brains of the group, she is intelligent and logical. She is always able to think on her feet and come up with a plan when things get tough. She is also a bit of a perfectionist and likes to have everything organized. She is a history buff and always carries a notebook with her to document her findings.

                Youssef is the muscle of the group, He is physically strong, and always ready to help out in a fight. He is also a bit of a foodie and loves trying new dishes. He is always the first one to volunteer to carry the heavy bags and equipment. He is also a bit of a daredevil and loves trying out new sports and activities.

                Give each of them a color, and an animal, and a secret name in a funny language

                The four friends, Zara, Xavier, Yasmin, and Youssef, each have their own unique traits that make them stand out and recognizable.

                Zara is the leader of the group, her color is red, her animal is a lion, and her secret name in a funny language is “Zaraloon”

                Xavier is the joker of the group, his color is orange, his animal is a monkey, and his secret name in a funny language is “Xavimunk”

                Yasmin is the brains of the group, her color is blue, her animal is an owl, and her secret name in a funny language is “Yasminowl”

                Youssef is the muscle of the group, his color is green, his animal is a bear, and his secret name in a funny language is “Youssefbear”

                Now, we need physical descriptions for each of them. Also, their ages, height, clothes, facial features, ethnicity (for instance Youssef may be half Yemeni and half Norwegian), etc. with a good mix of generic and eccentric. We also need surnames congruent with their described ethnicity, not too bland, but not too daft either. For instance Youssef Olafsson, Zara Patara-Smythe, etc. Also explain how they become friends.

                Zara Patara-Smythe is a 25-year-old woman of mixed heritage, her mother is Indian and her father is British. She has long, dark hair that she keeps in a sleek ponytail, dark brown eyes and a sharp jawline. She stands at 5’6″ and has a toned and athletic build. She usually wears practical clothing that allows her to move around easily, such as cargo pants and a tank top.

                Xavier Olafsson is a 27-year-old man of Norwegian and Danish descent. He has blonde hair that he keeps in a messy style, blue eyes, and a charming smile. He stands at 6’1″ and has a lean build. He is always seen wearing a colorful and bold clothing, such as a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

                Yasmin Ahmed is a 23-year-old woman of Egyptian descent. She has long, black hair that she keeps in a tight braid, dark brown eyes and a round face. She stands at 5’4″ and has a petite build. She usually wears conservative clothing, such as long skirts and blouses.

                Youssef Ali is a 26-year-old man of half Yemeni, half Norwegian descent. He has short, curly black hair, dark brown eyes and a square jawline. He stands at 6’2″ and has a muscular build. He usually wears comfortable clothing such as a t-shirt and jeans, and always has a backpack on his shoulder.

                The four of them became friends in college, they were all studying different majors, but they all shared a love for adventure and exploration. They found themselves in the same class project, and from there they formed a strong bond. After college, they decided to keep exploring the world together, and went on many trips and adventures, always seeking for something new and exciting.

                1/ Change the ages of Zara, Xavier, Yasmin and Youssef to more random patterns – rewrite if needed how they met each other to reflect eventual age gaps. Give them some flaws, mental or physical challenges.
                2/ increase again the age gaps while keeping the youngest one a young adult, and remove “minor” from the flaws descriptions

                Zara is a 22-year-old woman who is the youngest of the group. She is a free-spirited, adventurous person, but also a bit reckless and impulsive. She has a scar on her cheek that she got from a Skateboarding accident when she was a teenager.

                Xavier is a 45-year-old man who is the oldest of the group. He is a responsible and level-headed person, but also a bit of a perfectionist and can be hard on himself and others. He has dyslexia which he has been able to work around and it doesn’t impede his daily life.

                Yasmin is a 38-year-old woman who is the second oldest of the group. She is a kind and compassionate person, but also a bit of a pushover and can have trouble standing up for herself. She has social anxiety that affect her in certain situations and she have been working on coping mechanisms.

                Youssef is a 33-year-old man who is the second youngest of the group. He is a charismatic and outgoing person, but also a bit of a flirt and can be a bit insensitive to others feelings. He has ADHD which he has been able to manage with medication, but it still affects him from time to time.

                The group met each other through different means, Xavier and Yasmin met at work, Zara and Youssef met at a college class, and eventually, they all became friends through common interests and activities. They decided to go on this adventure together because they were all looking for a change in their lives and wanted to explore the unknown.

                #6336
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The Hamstall Ridware Connection

                  Stubbs and Woods

                  Hamstall RidwareHamstall Ridware

                   

                   

                  Charles Tomlinson‘s (1847-1907) wife Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) was born in Wolverhampton, the daughter and youngest child of William Grattidge (1820-1887) born in Foston, Derbyshire, and Mary Stubbs (1819-1880), born in Burton on Trent, daughter of Solomon Stubbs.

                  Solomon Stubbs (1781-1857) was born in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the son of Samuel and Rebecca.  Samuel Stubbs (1743-) and Rebecca Wood (1754-) married in 1769 in Darlaston.  Samuel and Rebecca had six other children, all born in Darlaston. Sadly four of them died in infancy. Son John was born in 1779 in Darlaston and died two years later in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the same year that Solomon was born there.

                  But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware?

                  Samuel Stubbs was born in 1743 in Curdworth, Warwickshire (near to Birmingham).  I had made a mistake on the tree (along with all of the public trees on the Ancestry website) and had Rebecca Wood born in Cheddleton, Staffordshire.  Rebecca Wood from Cheddleton was also born in 1843, the right age for the marriage.  The Rebecca Wood born in Darlaston in 1754 seemed too young, at just fifteen years old at the time of the marriage.  I couldn’t find any explanation for why a woman from Cheddleton would marry in Darlaston and then move to Hamstall Ridware.  People didn’t usually move around much other than intermarriage with neighbouring villages, especially women.  I had a closer look at the Darlaston Rebecca, and did a search on her father William Wood.  I found his 1784 will online in which he mentions his daughter Rebecca, wife of Samuel Stubbs.  Clearly the right Rebecca Wood was the one born in Darlaston, which made much more sense.

                  An excerpt from William Wood’s 1784 will mentioning daughter Rebecca married to Samuel Stubbs:

                  Wm Wood will

                   

                  But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware circa 1780?

                  I had not intially noticed that Solomon Stubbs married again the year after his wife Phillis Lomas (1787-1844) died.  Solomon married Charlotte Bell in 1845 in Burton on Trent and on the marriage register, Solomon’s father Samuel Stubbs occupation was mentioned: Samuel was a buckle maker.

                  Marriage of Solomon Stubbs and Charlotte Bell, father Samuel Stubbs buckle maker:

                  Samuel Stubbs buckle maker

                   

                  A rudimentary search on buckle making in the late 1700s provided a possible answer as to why Samuel and Rebecca left Darlaston in 1781.  Shoe buckles had gone out of fashion, and by 1781 there were half as many buckle makers in Wolverhampton as there had been previously.

                  “Where there were 127 buckle makers at work in Wolverhampton, 68 in Bilston and 58 in Birmingham in 1770, their numbers had halved in 1781.”

                  via “historywebsite”(museum/metalware/steel)

                  Steel buckles had been the height of fashion, and the trade became enormous in Wolverhampton.  Wolverhampton was a steel working town, renowned for its steel jewellery which was probably of many types.  The trade directories show great numbers of “buckle makers”.  Steel buckles were predominantly made in Wolverhampton: “from the late 1760s cut steel comes to the fore, from the thriving industry of the Wolverhampton area”. Bilston was also a great centre of buckle making, and other areas included Walsall. (It should be noted that Darlaston, Walsall, Bilston and Wolverhampton are all part of the same area)

                  In 1860, writing in defence of the Wolverhampton Art School, George Wallis talks about the cut steel industry in Wolverhampton.  Referring to “the fine steel workers of the 17th and 18th centuries” he says: “Let them remember that 100 years ago [sc. c. 1760] a large trade existed with France and Spain in the fine steel goods of Birmingham and Wolverhampton, of which the latter were always allowed to be the best both in taste and workmanship.  … A century ago French and Spanish merchants had their houses and agencies at Birmingham for the purchase of the steel goods of Wolverhampton…..The Great Revolution in France put an end to the demand for fine steel goods for a time and hostile tariffs finished what revolution began”.

                   

                  The next search on buckle makers, Wolverhampton and Hamstall Ridware revealed an unexpected connecting link.

                  In Riotous Assemblies: Popular Protest in Hanoverian England by Adrian Randall:

                  Riotous Assembles

                  Hamstall Ridware

                  In Walsall in 1750 on “Restoration Day” a crowd numbering 300 assembled, mostly buckle makers,  singing  Jacobite songs and other rebellious and riotous acts.  The government was particularly worried about a curious meeting known as the “Jubilee” in Hamstall Ridware, which may have been part of a conspiracy for a Jacobite uprising.

                   

                  But this was thirty years before Samuel and Rebecca moved to Hamstall Ridware and does not help to explain why they moved there around 1780, although it does suggest connecting links.

                  Rebecca’s father, William Wood, was a brickmaker.  This was stated at the beginning of his will.  On closer inspection of the will, he was a brickmaker who owned four acres of brick kilns, as well as dwelling houses, shops, barns, stables, a brewhouse, a malthouse, cattle and land.

                  A page from the 1784 will of William Wood:

                  will Wm Wood

                   

                  The 1784 will of William Wood of Darlaston:

                  I William Wood the elder of Darlaston in the county of Stafford, brickmaker, being of sound and disposing mind memory and understanding (praised be to god for the same) do make publish and declare my last will and testament in manner and form following (that is to say) {after debts and funeral expense paid etc} I give to my loving wife Mary the use usage wear interest and enjoyment of all my goods chattels cattle stock in trade ~ money securities for money personal estate and effects whatsoever and wheresoever to hold unto her my said wife for and during the term of her natural life providing she so long continues my widow and unmarried and from or after her decease or intermarriage with any future husband which shall first happen.

                  Then I give all the said goods chattels cattle stock in trade money securites for money personal estate and effects unto my son Abraham Wood absolutely and forever. Also I give devise and bequeath unto my said wife Mary all that my messuages tenement or dwelling house together with the malthouse brewhouse barn stableyard garden and premises to the same belonging situate and being at Darlaston aforesaid and now in my own possession. Also all that messuage tenement or dwelling house together with the shop garden and premises with the appurtenances to the same ~ belonging situate in Darlaston aforesaid and now in the several holdings or occupation of George Knowles and Edward Knowles to hold the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances to my said wife Mary for and during the term of her natural life provided she so long continues my widow and unmarried. And from or after her decease or intermarriage with a future husband which shall first happen. Then I give and devise the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances unto my said son Abraham Wood his heirs and assigns forever.

                  Also I give unto my said wife all that piece or parcel of land or ground inclosed and taken out of Heath Field in the parish of Darlaston aforesaid containing four acres or thereabouts (be the same more or less) upon which my brick kilns erected and now in my own possession. To hold unto my said wife Mary until my said son Abraham attains his age of twenty one years if she so long continues my widow and unmarried as aforesaid and from and immediately after my said son Abraham attaining his age of twenty one years or my said wife marrying again as aforesaid which shall first happen then I give the said piece or parcel of land or ground and premises unto my said son Abraham his heirs and assigns forever.

                  And I do hereby charge all the aforesaid premises with the payment of the sum of twenty pounds a piece to each of my daughters namely Elizabeth the wife of Ambrose Dudall and Rebecca the wife of Samuel Stubbs which said sum of twenty pounds each I devise may be paid to them by my said son Abraham when and so soon as he attains his age of twenty one years provided always and my mind and will is that if my said son Abraham should happen to depart this life without leaving issue of his body lawfully begotten before he attains his age of twenty one years then I give and devise all the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances so given to my said son Abraham as aforesaid unto my said son William Wood and my said daughter Elizabeth Dudall and Rebecca Stubbs their heirs and assigns forever equally divided among them share and share alike as tenants in common and not as joint tenants. And lastly I do hereby nominate constitute and appoint my said wife Mary and my said son Abraham executrix and executor of this my will.

                   

                   

                  The marriage of William Wood (1725-1784) and Mary Clews (1715-1798) in 1749 was in Hamstall Ridware.

                  Wm Wood Mary Clews

                   

                  Mary was eleven years Williams senior, and it appears that they both came from Hamstall Ridware and moved to Darlaston after they married. Clearly Rebecca had extended family there (notwithstanding any possible connecting links between the Stubbs buckle makers of Darlaston and the Hamstall Ridware Jacobites thirty years prior).  When the buckle trade collapsed in Darlaston, they likely moved to find employment elsewhere, perhaps with the help of Rebecca’s family.

                  I have not yet been able to find deaths recorded anywhere for either Samuel or Rebecca (there are a couple of deaths recorded for a Samuel Stubbs, one in 1809 in Wolverhampton, and one in 1810 in Birmingham but impossible to say which, if either, is the right one with the limited information, and difficult to know if they stayed in the Hamstall Ridware area or perhaps moved elsewhere)~ or find a reason for their son Solomon to be in Burton upon Trent, an evidently prosperous man with several properties including an earthenware business, as well as a land carrier business.

                  #6324
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    STONE MANOR

                     

                    Hildred Orgill Warren born in 1900, my grandmothers sister, married Reginald Williams in Stone, Worcestershire in March 1924. Their daughter Joan was born there in October of that year.

                    Hildred was a chaffeur on the 1921 census, living at home in Stourbridge with her father (my great grandfather) Samuel Warren, mechanic. I recall my grandmother saying that Hildred was one of the first lady chauffeurs. On their wedding certificate, Reginald is also a chauffeur.

                    1921 census, Stourbridge:

                    Hildred 1921

                     

                    Hildred and Reg worked at Stone Manor.  There is a family story of Hildred being involved in a car accident involving a fatality and that she had to go to court.

                    Stone Manor is in a tiny village called Stone, near Kidderminster, Worcestershire. It used to be a private house, but has been a hotel and nightclub for some years. We knew in the family that Hildred and Reg worked at Stone Manor and that Joan was born there. Around 2007 Joan held a family party there.

                    Stone Manor, Stone, Worcestershire:

                    stone manor

                     

                     

                    I asked on a Kidderminster Family Research group about Stone Manor in the 1920s:

                    “the original Stone Manor burnt down and the current building dates from the early 1920’s and was built for James Culcheth Hill, completed in 1926”
                    But was there a fire at Stone Manor?
                    “I’m not sure there was a fire at the Stone Manor… there seems to have been a fire at another big house a short distance away and it looks like stories have crossed over… as the dates are the same…”

                     

                    JC Hill was one of the witnesses at Hildred and Reginalds wedding in Stone in 1924. K Warren, Hildreds sister Kay, was the other:

                    Hildred and Reg marriage

                     

                    I searched the census and electoral rolls for James Culcheth Hill and found him at the Stone Manor on the 1929-1931 electoral rolls for Stone, and Hildred and Reginald living at The Manor House Lodge, Stone:

                    Hildred Manor Lodge

                     

                    On the 1911 census James Culcheth Hill was a 12 year old student at Eastmans Royal Naval Academy, Northwood Park, Crawley, Winchester. He was born in Kidderminster in 1899. On the same census page, also a student at the school, is Reginald Culcheth Holcroft, born in 1900 in Stourbridge.  The unusual middle name would seem to indicate that they might be related.

                    A member of the Kidderminster Family Research group kindly provided this article:

                    stone manor death

                     

                     

                    SHOT THROUGH THE TEMPLE

                    Well known Worcestershire man’s tragic death.

                    Dudley Chronicle 27 March 1930.

                    Well known in Worcestershire, especially the Kidderminster district, Mr Philip Rowland Hill MA LLD who was mayor of Kidderminster in 1907 was found dead with a bullet wound through his temple on board his yacht, anchored off Cannes, on Friday, recently. A harbour watchman discovered the dead man huddled in a chair on board the yacht. A small revolver was lying on the blood soaked carpet beside him.

                    Friends of Mr Hill, whose London address is given as Grosvenor House, Park Lane, say that he appeared despondent since last month when he was involved in a motor car accident on the Antibes ~ Nice road. He was then detained by the police after his car collided with a small motor lorry driven by two Italians, who were killed in the crash. Later he was released on bail of 180,000 francs (£1440) pending an investigation of a charge of being responsible for the fatal accident. …….

                    Mr Rowland Hill (Philips father) was heir to Sir Charles Holcroft, the wealthy Staffordshire man, and managed his estates for him, inheriting the property on the death of Sir Charles. On the death of Mr Rowland HIll, which took place at the Firs, Kidderminster, his property was inherited by Mr James (Culcheth) Hill who had built a mansion at Stone, near Kidderminster. Mr Philip Rowland Hill assisted his brother in managing the estate. …….

                    At the time of the collison both brothers were in the car.

                    This article doesn’t mention who was driving the car ~ could the family story of a car accident be this one?  Hildred and Reg were working at Stone Manor, both were (or at least previously had been) chauffeurs, and Philip Hill was helping James Culcheth Hill manage the Stone Manor estate at the time.

                     

                    This photograph was taken circa 1931 in Llanaeron, Wales.  Hildred is in the middle on the back row:

                    Llanaeron

                    Sally Gray sent the photo with this message:

                    “Joan gave me a short note: Photo was taken when they lived in Wales, at Llanaeron, before Janet was born, & Aunty Lorna (my mother) lived with them, to take Joan to school in Aberaeron, as they only spoke Welsh at the local school.”

                    Hildred and Reginalds daughter Janet was born in 1932 in Stratford.  It would appear that Hildred and Reg moved to Wales just after the car accident, and shortly afterwards moved to Stratford.

                    In 1921 James Culcheth Hill was living at Red Hill House in Stourbridge. Although I have not been able to trace Reginald Williams yet, perhaps this Stourbridge connection with his employer explains how Hildred met Reginald.

                    Sir Reginald Culcheth Holcroft, the other pupil at the school in Winchester with James Culcheth Hill, was indeed related, as Sir Holcroft left his estate to James Culcheth Hill’s father.  Sir Reginald was born in 1899 in Upper Swinford, Stourbridge.  Hildred also lived in that part of Stourbridge in the early 1900s.

                    1921 Red Hill House:

                    Red Hill House 1921

                     

                    The 2007 family reunion organized by Joan Williams at Stone Manor: Joan in black and white at the front.

                    2007 Stone Manor

                     

                    Unrelated to the Warrens, my fathers friends (and customers at The Fox when my grandmother Peggy Edwards owned it) Geoff and Beryl Lamb later bought Stone Manor.

                    #6306
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Looking for Robert Staley

                       

                      William Warren (1835-1880) of Newhall (Stapenhill) married Elizabeth Staley (1836-1907) in 1858. Elizabeth was born in Newhall, the daughter of John Staley (1795-1876) and Jane Brothers. John was born in Newhall, and Jane was born in Armagh, Ireland, and they were married in Armagh in 1820. Elizabeths older brothers were born in Ireland: William in 1826 and Thomas in Dublin in 1830. Francis was born in Liverpool in 1834, and then Elizabeth in Newhall in 1836; thereafter the children were born in Newhall.

                      Marriage of John Staley and Jane Brothers in 1820:

                      1820 marriage Armagh

                       

                       

                      My grandmother related a story about an Elizabeth Staley who ran away from boarding school and eloped to Ireland, but later returned. The only Irish connection found so far is Jane Brothers, so perhaps she meant Elizabeth Staley’s mother. A boarding school seems unlikely, and it would seem that it was John Staley who went to Ireland.

                      The 1841 census states Jane’s age as 33, which would make her just 12 at the time of her marriage. The 1851 census states her age as 44, making her 13 at the time of her 1820 marriage, and the 1861 census estimates her birth year as a more likely 1804. Birth records in Ireland for her have not been found. It’s possible, perhaps, that she was in service in the Newhall area as a teenager (more likely than boarding school), and that John and Jane ran off to get married in Ireland, although I haven’t found any record of a child born to them early in their marriage. John was an agricultural labourer, and later a coal miner.

                      John Staley was the son of Joseph Staley (1756-1838) and Sarah Dumolo (1764-). Joseph and Sarah were married by licence in Newhall in 1782. Joseph was a carpenter on the marriage licence, but later a collier (although not necessarily a miner).

                      The Derbyshire Record Office holds records of  an “Estimate of Joseph Staley of Newhall for the cost of continuing to work Pisternhill Colliery” dated 1820 and addresssed to Mr Bloud at Calke Abbey (presumably the owner of the mine)

                      Josephs parents were Robert Staley and Elizabeth. I couldn’t find a baptism or birth record for Robert Staley. Other trees on an ancestry site had his birth in Elton, but with no supporting documents. Robert, as stated in his 1795 will, was a Yeoman.

                      “Yeoman: A former class of small freeholders who farm their own land; a commoner of good standing.”
                      “Husbandman: The old word for a farmer below the rank of yeoman. A husbandman usually held his land by copyhold or leasehold tenure and may be regarded as the ‘average farmer in his locality’. The words ‘yeoman’ and ‘husbandman’ were gradually replaced in the later 18th and 19th centuries by ‘farmer’.”

                      He left a number of properties in Newhall and Hartshorne (near Newhall) including dwellings, enclosures, orchards, various yards, barns and acreages. It seemed to me more likely that he had inherited them, rather than moving into the village and buying them.

                      There is a mention of Robert Staley in a 1782 newpaper advertisement.

                      “Fire Engine To Be Sold.  An exceedingly good fire engine, with the boiler, cylinder, etc in good condition. For particulars apply to Mr Burslem at Burton-upon-Trent, or Robert Staley at Newhall near Burton, where the engine may be seen.”

                      fire engine

                       

                      Was the fire engine perhaps connected with a foundry or a coal mine?

                      I noticed that Robert Staley was the witness at a 1755 marriage in Stapenhill between Barbara Burslem and Richard Daston the younger esquire. The other witness was signed Burslem Jnr.

                       

                      Looking for Robert Staley

                       

                      I assumed that once again, in the absence of the correct records, a similarly named and aged persons baptism had been added to the tree regardless of accuracy, so I looked through the Stapenhill/Newhall parish register images page by page. There were no Staleys in Newhall at all in the early 1700s, so it seemed that Robert did come from elsewhere and I expected to find the Staleys in a neighbouring parish. But I still didn’t find any Staleys.

                      I spoke to a couple of Staley descendants that I’d met during the family research. I met Carole via a DNA match some months previously and contacted her to ask about the Staleys in Elton. She also had Robert Staley born in Elton (indeed, there were many Staleys in Elton) but she didn’t have any documentation for his birth, and we decided to collaborate and try and find out more.

                      I couldn’t find the earlier Elton parish registers anywhere online, but eventually found the untranscribed microfiche images of the Bishops Transcripts for Elton.

                      via familysearch:
                      “In its most basic sense, a bishop’s transcript is a copy of a parish register. As bishop’s transcripts generally contain more or less the same information as parish registers, they are an invaluable resource when a parish register has been damaged, destroyed, or otherwise lost. Bishop’s transcripts are often of value even when parish registers exist, as priests often recorded either additional or different information in their transcripts than they did in the original registers.”

                       

                      Unfortunately there was a gap in the Bishops Transcripts between 1704 and 1711 ~ exactly where I needed to look. I subsequently found out that the Elton registers were incomplete as they had been damaged by fire.

                      I estimated Robert Staleys date of birth between 1710 and 1715. He died in 1795, and his son Daniel died in 1805: both of these wills were found online. Daniel married Mary Moon in Stapenhill in 1762, making a likely birth date for Daniel around 1740.

                      The marriage of Robert Staley (assuming this was Robert’s father) and Alice Maceland (or Marsland or Marsden, depending on how the parish clerk chose to spell it presumably) was in the Bishops Transcripts for Elton in 1704. They were married in Elton on 26th February. There followed the missing parish register pages and in all likelihood the records of the baptisms of their first children. No doubt Robert was one of them, probably the first male child.

                      (Incidentally, my grandfather’s Marshalls also came from Elton, a small Derbyshire village near Matlock.  The Staley’s are on my grandmothers Warren side.)

                      The parish register pages resume in 1711. One of the first entries was the baptism of Robert Staley in 1711, parents Thomas and Ann. This was surely the one we were looking for, and Roberts parents weren’t Robert and Alice.

                      But then in 1735 a marriage was recorded between Robert son of Robert Staley (and this was unusual, the father of the groom isn’t usually recorded on the parish register) and Elizabeth Milner. They were married on the 9th March 1735. We know that the Robert we were looking for married an Elizabeth, as her name was on the Stapenhill baptisms of their later children, including Joseph Staleys.  The 1735 marriage also fit with the assumed birth date of Daniel, circa 1740. A baptism was found for a Robert Staley in 1738 in the Elton registers, parents Robert and Elizabeth, as well as the baptism in 1736 for Mary, presumably their first child. Her burial is recorded the following year.

                      The marriage of Robert Staley and Elizabeth Milner in 1735:

                      rbt staley marriage 1735

                       

                      There were several other Staley couples of a similar age in Elton, perhaps brothers and cousins. It seemed that Thomas and Ann’s son Robert was a different Robert, and that the one we were looking for was prior to that and on the missing pages.

                      Even so, this doesn’t prove that it was Elizabeth Staleys great grandfather who was born in Elton, but no other birth or baptism for Robert Staley has been found. It doesn’t explain why the Staleys moved to Stapenhill either, although the Enclosures Act and the Industrial Revolution could have been factors.

                      The 18th century saw the rise of the Industrial Revolution and many renowned Derbyshire Industrialists emerged. They created the turning point from what was until then a largely rural economy, to the development of townships based on factory production methods.

                      The Marsden Connection

                      There are some possible clues in the records of the Marsden family.  Robert Staley married Alice Marsden (or Maceland or Marsland) in Elton in 1704.  Robert Staley is mentioned in the 1730 will of John Marsden senior,  of Baslow, Innkeeper (Peacock Inne & Whitlands Farm). He mentions his daughter Alice, wife of Robert Staley.

                      In a 1715 Marsden will there is an intriguing mention of an alias, which might explain the different spellings on various records for the name Marsden:  “MARSDEN alias MASLAND, Christopher – of Baslow, husbandman, 28 Dec 1714. son Robert MARSDEN alias MASLAND….” etc.

                      Some potential reasons for a move from one parish to another are explained in this history of the Marsden family, and indeed this could relate to Robert Staley as he married into the Marsden family and his wife was a beneficiary of a Marsden will.  The Chatsworth Estate, at various times, bought a number of farms in order to extend the park.

                      THE MARSDEN FAMILY
                      OXCLOSE AND PARKGATE
                      In the Parishes of
                      Baslow and Chatsworth

                      by
                      David Dalrymple-Smith

                      John Marsden (b1653) another son of Edmund (b1611) faired well. By the time he died in
                      1730 he was publican of the Peacock, the Inn on Church Lane now called the Cavendish
                      Hotel, and the farmer at “Whitlands”, almost certainly Bubnell Cliff Farm.”

                      “Coal mining was well known in the Chesterfield area. The coalfield extends as far as the
                      Gritstone edges, where thin seams outcrop especially in the Baslow area.”

                      “…the occupants were evicted from the farmland below Dobb Edge and
                      the ground carefully cleared of all traces of occupation and farming. Shelter belts were
                      planted especially along the Heathy Lea Brook. An imposing new drive was laid to the
                      Chatsworth House with the Lodges and “The Golden Gates” at its northern end….”

                      Although this particular event was later than any events relating to Robert Staley, it’s an indication of how farms and farmland disappeared, and a reason for families to move to another area:

                      “The Dukes of Devonshire (of Chatsworth)  were major figures in the aristocracy and the government of the
                      time. Such a position demanded a display of wealth and ostentation. The 6th Duke of
                      Devonshire, the Bachelor Duke, was not content with the Chatsworth he inherited in 1811,
                      and immediately started improvements. After major changes around Edensor, he turned his
                      attention at the north end of the Park. In 1820 plans were made extend the Park up to the
                      Baslow parish boundary. As this would involve the destruction of most of the Farm at
                      Oxclose, the farmer at the Higher House Samuel Marsden (b1755) was given the tenancy of
                      Ewe Close a large farm near Bakewell.
                      Plans were revised in 1824 when the Dukes of Devonshire and Rutland “Exchanged Lands”,
                      reputedly during a game of dice. Over 3300 acres were involved in several local parishes, of
                      which 1000 acres were in Baslow. In the deal Devonshire acquired the southeast corner of
                      Baslow Parish.
                      Part of the deal was Gibbet Moor, which was developed for “Sport”. The shelf of land
                      between Parkgate and Robin Hood and a few extra fields was left untouched. The rest,
                      between Dobb Edge and Baslow, was agricultural land with farms, fields and houses. It was
                      this last part that gave the Duke the opportunity to improve the Park beyond his earlier
                      expectations.”

                       

                      The 1795 will of Robert Staley.

                      Inriguingly, Robert included the children of his son Daniel Staley in his will, but omitted to leave anything to Daniel.  A perusal of Daniels 1808 will sheds some light on this:  Daniel left his property to his six reputed children with Elizabeth Moon, and his reputed daughter Mary Brearly. Daniels wife was Mary Moon, Elizabeths husband William Moons daughter.

                      The will of Robert Staley, 1795:

                      1795 will 2

                      1795 Rbt Staley will

                       

                      The 1805 will of Daniel Staley, Robert’s son:

                      This is the last will and testament of me Daniel Staley of the Township of Newhall in the parish of Stapenhill in the County of Derby, Farmer. I will and order all of my just debts, funeral and testamentary expenses to be fully paid and satisfied by my executors hereinafter named by and out of my personal estate as soon as conveniently may be after my decease.

                      I give, devise and bequeath to Humphrey Trafford Nadin of Church Gresely in the said County of Derby Esquire and John Wilkinson of Newhall aforesaid yeoman all my messuages, lands, tenements, hereditaments and real and personal estates to hold to them, their heirs, executors, administrators and assigns until Richard Moon the youngest of my reputed sons by Elizabeth Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years upon trust that they, my said trustees, (or the survivor of them, his heirs, executors, administrators or assigns), shall and do manage and carry on my farm at Newhall aforesaid and pay and apply the rents, issues and profits of all and every of my said real and personal estates in for and towards the support, maintenance and education of all my reputed children by the said Elizabeth Moon until the said Richard Moon my youngest reputed son shall attain his said age of twenty one years and equally share and share and share alike.

                      And it is my will and desire that my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall recruit and keep up the stock upon my farm as they in their discretion shall see occasion or think proper and that the same shall not be diminished. And in case any of my said reputed children by the said Elizabeth Moon shall be married before my said reputed youngest son shall attain his age of twenty one years that then it is my will and desire that non of their husbands or wives shall come to my farm or be maintained there or have their abode there. That it is also my will and desire in case my reputed children or any of them shall not be steady to business but instead shall be wild and diminish the stock that then my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall have full power and authority in their discretion to sell and dispose of all or any part of my said personal estate and to put out the money arising from the sale thereof to interest and to pay and apply the interest thereof and also thereunto of the said real estate in for and towards the maintenance, education and support of all my said reputed children by the said
                      Elizabeth Moon as they my said trustees in their discretion that think proper until the said Richard Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years.

                      Then I give to my grandson Daniel Staley the sum of ten pounds and to each and every of my sons and daughters namely Daniel Staley, Benjamin Staley, John Staley, William Staley, Elizabeth Dent and Sarah Orme and to my niece Ann Brearly the sum of five pounds apiece.

                      I give to my youngest reputed son Richard Moon one share in the Ashby Canal Navigation and I direct that my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall have full power and authority to pay and apply all or any part of the fortune or legacy hereby intended for my youngest reputed son Richard Moon in placing him out to any trade, business or profession as they in their discretion shall think proper.
                      And I direct that to my said sons and daughters by my late wife and my said niece shall by wholly paid by my said reputed son Richard Moon out of the fortune herby given him. And it is my will and desire that my said reputed children shall deliver into the hands of my executors all the monies that shall arise from the carrying on of my business that is not wanted to carry on the same unto my acting executor and shall keep a just and true account of all disbursements and receipts of the said business and deliver up the same to my acting executor in order that there may not be any embezzlement or defraud amongst them and from and immediately after my said reputed youngest son Richard Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years then I give, devise and bequeath all my real estate and all the residue and remainder of my personal estate of what nature and kind whatsoever and wheresoever unto and amongst all and every my said reputed sons and daughters namely William Moon, Thomas Moon, Joseph Moon, Richard Moon, Ann Moon, Margaret Moon and to my reputed daughter Mary Brearly to hold to them and their respective heirs, executors, administrator and assigns for ever according to the nature and tenure of the same estates respectively to take the same as tenants in common and not as joint tenants.

                      And lastly I nominate and appoint the said Humphrey Trafford Nadin and John Wilkinson executors of this my last will and testament and guardians of all my reputed children who are under age during their respective minorities hereby revoking all former and other wills by me heretofore made and declaring this only to be my last will.

                      In witness whereof I the said Daniel Staley the testator have to this my last will and testament set my hand and seal the eleventh day of March in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and five.

                       

                      #6292
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        The door flung open. It was Finnley. “Here I am! I was drugged when I tried to put a bug under the rug. Someone hit me on the head with a mug and lured me to a secret location. Fortunately I charmed my way free with a hug.”

                        “Thank goodness the situation have been explained property,”  said Liz. “I couldn’t understand a word Fanella was saying.”

                        #6276
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Ellastone and Mayfield
                          Malkins and Woodwards
                          Parish Registers

                           

                          Jane Woodward


                          It’s exciting, as well as enormously frustrating, to see so many Woodward’s in the Ellastone parish registers, and even more so because they go back so far. There are parish registers surviving from the 1500’s: in one, dated 1579, the death of Thomas Woodward was recorded. His father’s name was Humfrey.

                          Jane Woodward married Rowland Malkin in 1751, in Thorpe, Ashbourne. Jane was from Mathfield (also known as Mayfield), Ellastone, on the Staffordshire side of the river Dove. Rowland was from Clifton, Ashbourne, on the Derbyshire side of the river. They were neighbouring villages, but in different counties.

                          Jane Woodward was born in 1726 according to the marriage transcription. No record of the baptism can be found for her, despite there having been at least four other Woodward couples in Ellastone and Mayfield baptizing babies in the 1720’s and 1730’s.  Without finding out the baptism with her parents names on the parish register, it’s impossible to know which is the correct line to follow back to the earlier records.

                          I found a Mayfield history group on Facebook and asked if there were parish records existing that were not yet online. A member responded that she had a set on microfiche and had looked through the relevant years and didn’t see a Jane Woodward, but she did say that some of the pages were illegible.

                          The Ellasone parish records from the 1500s surviving at all, considering the events in 1673, is remarkable. To be so close, but for one indecipherable page from the 1700s, to tracing the family back to the 1500s! The search for the connecting link to the earlier records continues.

                          Some key events in the history of parish registers from familysearch:

                          In medieval times there were no parish registers. For some years before the Reformation, monastic houses (especially the smaller ones) the parish priest had been developing the custom of noting in an album or on the margins of the service books, the births and deaths of the leading local families.
                          1538 – Through the efforts of Thomas Cromwell a mandate was issued by Henry VIII to keep parish registers. This order that every parson, vicar or curate was to enter in a book every wedding, christening and burial in his parish. The parish was to provide a sure coffer with two locks, the parson having the custody of one key, the wardens the others. The entries were to be made each Sunday after the service in the presence of one of the wardens.
                          1642-60 – During the Civil War registers were neglected and Bishop Transcripts were not required.
                          1650 – In the restoration of Charles they went back to the church to keep christenings, marriages and burial. The civil records that were kept were filed in with the parish in their registers. it is quite usual to find entries explaining the situation during the Interregnum. One rector stated that on 23 April 1643 “Our church was defaced our font thrown down and new forms of prayer appointed”. Another minister not quite so bold wrote “When the war, more than a civil war was raging most grimly between royalists and parliamentarians throughout the greatest part of England, I lived well because I lay low”.
                          1653 – Cromwell, whose army had defeated the Royalists, was made Lord Protector and acted as king. He was a Puritan. The parish church of England was disorganized, many ministers fled for their lives, some were able to hide their registers and other registers were destroyed. Cromwell ruled that there would be no one religion in England all religions could be practiced. The government took away from the ministers not only the custody of the registers, but even the solemnization of the marriage ceremony. The marriage ceremony was entrusted to the justices to form a new Parish Register (not Registrar) elected by all the ratepayers in a parish, and sworn before and approved by a magistrate.. Parish clerks of the church were made a civil parish clerk and they recorded deaths, births and marriages in the civil parishes.

                           

                          Ellastone:

                          “Ellastone features as ‘Hayslope’ in George Eliot’s Adam Bede, published in 1859. It earned this recognition because the author’s father spent the early part of his life in the village working as a carpenter.”

                          Adam Bede Cottage, Ellastone:

                          Ellasone Adam Bede

                          “It was at Ellastone that Robert Evans, George Eliot’s father, passed his early years and worked as a carpenter with his brother Samuel; and it was partly from reminiscences of her father’s talk and from her uncle Samuel’s wife’s preaching experiences that the author constructed the very powerful and moving story of Adam Bede.”

                           

                          Mary Malkin

                          1765-1838

                          Ellen Carrington’s mother was Mary Malkin.

                          Ellastone:

                          Ellastone

                           

                           

                           

                          Ashbourn the 31st day of May in the year of our Lord 1751.  The marriage of Rowland Malkin and Jane Woodward:

                          Rowland Malkin marriage 1751

                          #6272
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            The Housley Letters

                            The Carringtons

                            Carrington Farm, Smalley:

                            Carrington Farm

                             

                            Ellen Carrington was born in 1795. Her father William Carrington 1755-1833 was from Smalley. Her mother Mary Malkin 1765-1838 was from Ellastone, in Staffordshire.  Ellastone is on the Derbyshire border and very close to Ashboure, where Ellen married William Housley.

                             

                            From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                            Ellen’s family was evidently rather prominant in Smalley. Two Carringtons (John and William) served on the Parish Council in 1794. Parish records are full of Carrington marriages and christenings.

                            The letters refer to a variety of “uncles” who were probably Ellen’s brothers, but could be her uncles. These include:

                            RICHARD

                            Probably the youngest Uncle, and certainly the most significant, is Richard. He was a trustee for some of the property which needed to be settled following Ellen’s death. Anne wrote in 1854 that Uncle Richard “has got a new house built” and his daughters are “fine dashing young ladies–the belles of Smalley.” Then she added, “Aunt looks as old as my mother.”

                            Richard was born somewhere between 1808 and 1812. Since Richard was a contemporary of the older Housley children, “Aunt,” who was three years younger, should not look so old!

                            Richard Carrington and Harriet Faulkner were married in Repton in 1833. A daughter Elizabeth was baptised March 24, 1834. In July 1872, Joseph wrote: “Elizabeth is married too and a large family and is living in Uncle Thomas’s house for he is dead.” Elizabeth married Ayres (Eyres) Clayton of Lascoe. His occupation was listed as joiner and shopkeeper. They were married before 1864 since Elizabeth Clayton witnessed her sister’s marriage. Their children in April 1871 were Selina (1863), Agnes Maria (1866) and Elizabeth Ann (1868). A fourth daughter, Alice Augusta, was born in 1872 or 1873, probably by July 1872 to fit Joseph’s description “large family”! A son Charles Richard was born in 1880.

                            An Elizabeth Ann Clayton married John Arthur Woodhouse on May 12, 1913. He was a carpenter. His father was a miner. Elizabeth Ann’s father, Ayres, was also a carpenter. John Arthur’s age was given as 25. Elizabeth Ann’s age was given as 33 or 38. However, if she was born in 1868, her age would be 45. Possibly this is another case of a child being named for a deceased sibling. If she were 38 and born in 1875, she would fill the gap between Alice Augusta and Charles Richard.

                            Selina Clayton, who would have been 18, is not listed in the household in 1881. She died on June 11, 1914 at age 51. Agnes Maria Clayton died at the age of 25 and was buried March 31, 1891. Charles Richard died at the age of 5 and was buried on February 4, 1886. A Charles James Clayton, 18 months, was buried June 8, 1889 in Heanor.

                            Richard Carrington’s second daughter, Selina, born in 1837, married Walker Martin (b.1835) on February 11, 1864 and they were living at Kidsley Park Farm in 1872, according to a letter from Joseph, and, according to the census, were still there in 1881. This 100 acre farm was formerly the home of Daniel Smith and his daughter Elizabeth Davy Barber. Selina and Walker had at least five children: Elizabeth Ann (1865), Harriet Georgianna (1866/7), Alice Marian (September 6, 1868), Philip Richard (1870), and Walker (1873). In December 1972, Joseph mentioned the death of Philip Walker, a farmer of Prospect Farm, Shipley. This was probably Walker Martin’s grandfather, since Walker was born in Shipley. The stock was to be sold the following Monday, but his daughter (Walker’s mother?) died the next day. Walker’s father was named Thomas. An Annie Georgianna Martin age 13 of Shipley died in April of 1859.

                            Selina Martin died on October 29, 1906 but her estate was not settled until November 14, 1910. Her gross estate was worth L223.56. Her son Walker and her daughter Harriet Georgiana were her trustees and executers. Walker was to get Selina’s half of Richard’s farm. Harriet Georgiana and Alice Marian were to be allowed to live with him. Philip Richard received L25. Elizabeth Ann was already married to someone named Smith.

                            Richard and Harriet may also have had a son George. In 1851 a Harriet Carrington and her three year old son George were living with her step-father John Benniston in Heanor. John may have been recently widowed and needed her help. Or, the Carrington home may have been inadequate since Anne reported a new one was built by 1854. Selina’s second daughter’s name testifies to the presence of a “George” in the family! Could the death of this son account for the haggard appearance Anne described when she wrote: “Aunt looks as old as my mother?”
                            Harriet was buried May 19, 1866. She was 55 when she died.

                            In 1881, Georgianna then 14, was living with her grandfather and his niece, Zilpah Cooper, age 38–who lived with Richard on his 63 acre farm as early as 1871. A Zilpah, daughter of William and Elizabeth, was christened October 1843. Her brother, William Walter, was christened in 1846 and married Anna Maria Saint in 1873. There are four Selina Coopers–one had a son William Thomas Bartrun Cooper christened in 1864; another had a son William Cooper christened in 1873.

                            Our Zilpah was born in Bretley 1843. She died at age 49 and was buried on September 24, 1892. In her will, which was witnessed by Selina Martin, Zilpah’s sister, Frances Elizabeth Cleave, wife of Horatio Cleave of Leicester is mentioned. James Eley and Francis Darwin Huish (Richard’s soliciter) were executers.

                            Richard died June 10, 1892, and was buried on June 13. He was 85. As might be expected, Richard’s will was complicated. Harriet Georgiana Martin and Zilpah Cooper were to share his farm. If neither wanted to live there it was to go to Georgiana’s cousin Selina Clayton. However, Zilpah died soon after Richard. Originally, he left his piano, parlor and best bedroom furniture to his daughter Elizabeth Clayton. Then he revoked everything but the piano. He arranged for the payment of £150 which he owed. Later he added a codicil explaining that the debt was paid but he had borrowed £200 from someone else to do it!

                            Richard left a good deal of property including: The house and garden in Smalley occupied by Eyres Clayton with four messuages and gardens adjoining and large garden below and three messuages at the south end of the row with the frame work knitters shop and garden adjoining; a dwelling house used as a public house with a close of land; a small cottage and garden and four cottages and shop and gardens.

                             

                            THOMAS

                            In August 1854, Anne wrote “Uncle Thomas is about as usual.” A Thomas Carrington married a Priscilla Walker in 1810.

                            Their children were baptised in August 1830 at the same time as the Housley children who at that time ranged in age from 3 to 17. The oldest of Thomas and Priscilla’s children, Henry, was probably at least 17 as he was married by 1836. Their youngest son, William Thomas, born 1830, may have been Mary Ellen Weston’s beau. However, the only Richard whose christening is recorded (1820), was the son of Thomas and Lucy. In 1872 Joseph reported that Richard’s daughter Elizabeth was married and living in Uncle Thomas’s house. In 1851, Alfred Smith lived in house 25, Foulks lived in 26, Thomas and Priscilla lived in 27, Bennetts lived in 28, Allard lived in 29 and Day lived in 30. Thomas and Priscilla do not appear in 1861. In 1871 Elizabeth Ann and Ayres Clayton lived in House 54. None of the families listed as neighbors in 1851 remained. However, Joseph Carrington, who lived in house 19 in 1851, lived in house 51 in 1871.

                             

                            JOHN

                            In August 1854, Anne wrote: “Uncle John is with Will and Frank has been home in a comfortable place in Cotmanhay.” Although John and William are two of the most popular Carrington names, only two John’s have sons named William. John and Rachel Buxton Carrington had a son William christened in 1788. At the time of the letters this John would have been over 100 years old. Their son John and his wife Ann had a son William who was born in 1805. However, this William age 46 was living with his widowed mother in 1851. A Robert Carrington and his wife Ann had a son John born 1n 1805. He would be the right age to be a brother to Francis Carrington discussed below. This John was living with his widowed mother in 1851 and was unmarried. There are no known Williams in this family grouping. A William Carrington of undiscovered parentage was born in 1821. It is also possible that the Will in question was Anne’s brother Will Housley.

                            –Two Francis Carringtons appear in the 1841 census both of them aged 35. One is living with Richard and Harriet Carrington. The other is living next door to Samuel and Ellen Carrington Kerry (the trustee for “father’s will”!). The next name in this sequence is John Carrington age 15 who does not seem to live with anyone! but may be part of the Kerry household.

                            FRANK (see above)

                            While Anne did not preface her mention of the name Frank with an “Uncle,” Joseph referred to Uncle Frank and James Carrington in the same sentence. A James Carrington was born in 1814 and had a wife Sarah. He worked as a framework knitter. James may have been a son of William and Anne Carrington. He lived near Richard according to the 1861 census. Other children of William and Anne are Hannah (1811), William (1815), John (1816), and Ann (1818). An Ann Carrington married a Frank Buxton in 1819. This might be “Uncle Frank.”

                            An Ellen Carrington was born to John and Rachel Carrington in 1785. On October 25, 1809, a Samuel Kerry married an Ellen Carrington. However this Samuel Kerry is not the trustee involved in settling Ellen’s estate. John Carrington died July 1815.

                            William and Mary Carrington:

                            William Carrington

                            #6269
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              The Housley Letters 

                              From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters.

                               

                              William Housley (1781-1848) and Ellen Carrington were married on May 30, 1814 at St. Oswald’s church in Ashbourne. William died in 1848 at the age of 67 of “disease of lungs and general debility”. Ellen died in 1872.

                              Marriage of William Housley and Ellen Carrington in Ashbourne in 1814:

                              William and Ellen Marriage

                               

                              Parish records show three children for William and his first wife, Mary, Ellens’ sister, who were married December 29, 1806: Mary Ann, christened in 1808 and mentioned frequently in the letters; Elizabeth, christened in 1810, but never mentioned in any letters; and William, born in 1812, probably referred to as Will in the letters. Mary died in 1813.

                              William and Ellen had ten children: John, Samuel, Edward, Anne, Charles, George, Joseph, Robert, Emma, and Joseph. The first Joseph died at the age of four, and the last son was also named Joseph. Anne never married, Charles emigrated to Australia in 1851, and George to USA, also in 1851. The letters are to George, from his sisters and brothers in England.

                              The following are excerpts of those letters, including excerpts of Barbara Housley’s “Narrative on Historic Letters”. They are grouped according to who they refer to, rather than chronological order.

                               

                              ELLEN HOUSLEY 1795-1872

                              Joseph wrote that when Emma was married, Ellen “broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby didn’t agree with her so she left again leaving her things behind and came to live with John in the new house where she died.” Ellen was listed with John’s household in the 1871 census.
                              In May 1872, the Ilkeston Pioneer carried this notice: “Mr. Hopkins will sell by auction on Saturday next the eleventh of May 1872 the whole of the useful furniture, sewing machine, etc. nearly new on the premises of the late Mrs. Housley at Smalley near Heanor in the county of Derby. Sale at one o’clock in the afternoon.”

                              Ellen’s family was evidently rather prominant in Smalley. Two Carringtons (John and William) served on the Parish Council in 1794. Parish records are full of Carrington marriages and christenings; census records confirm many of the family groupings.

                              In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “Mother looks as well as ever and was told by a lady the other day that she looked handsome.” Later she wrote: “Mother is as stout as ever although she sometimes complains of not being able to do as she used to.”

                               

                              Mary’s children:

                              MARY ANN HOUSLEY  1808-1878

                              There were hard feelings between Mary Ann and Ellen and her children. Anne wrote: “If you remember we were not very friendly when you left. They never came and nothing was too bad for Mary Ann to say of Mother and me, but when Robert died Mother sent for her to the funeral but she did not think well to come so we took no more notice. She would not allow her children to come either.”

                              Mary Ann was unlucky in love! In Anne’s second letter she wrote: “William Carrington is paying Mary Ann great attention. He is living in London but they write to each other….We expect it will be a match.” Apparantly the courtship was stormy for in 1855, Emma wrote: “Mary Ann’s wedding with William Carrington has dropped through after she had prepared everything, dresses and all for the occassion.” Then in 1856, Emma wrote: “William Carrington and Mary Ann are separated. They wore him out with their nonsense.” Whether they ever married is unclear. Joseph wrote in 1872: “Mary Ann was married but her husband has left her. She is in very poor health. She has one daughter and they are living with their mother at Smalley.”

                              Regarding William Carrington, Emma supplied this bit of news: “His sister, Mrs. Lily, has eloped with a married man. Is she not a nice person!”

                               

                              WILLIAM HOUSLEY JR. 1812-1890

                              According to a letter from Anne, Will’s two sons and daughter were sent to learn dancing so they would be “fit for any society.” Will’s wife was Dorothy Palfry. They were married in Denby on October 20, 1836 when Will was 24. According to the 1851 census, Will and Dorothy had three sons: Alfred 14, Edwin 12, and William 10. All three boys were born in Denby.

                              In his letter of May 30, 1872, after just bemoaning that all of his brothers and sisters are gone except Sam and John, Joseph added: “Will is living still.” In another 1872 letter Joseph wrote, “Will is living at Heanor yet and carrying on his cattle dealing.” The 1871 census listed Will, 59, and his son William, 30, of Lascoe Road, Heanor, as cattle dealers.

                               

                              Ellen’s children:

                              JOHN HOUSLEY  1815-1893

                              John married Sarah Baggally in Morely in 1838. They had at least six children. Elizabeth (born 2 May 1838) was “out service” in 1854. In her “third year out,” Elizabeth was described by Anne as “a very nice steady girl but quite a woman in appearance.” One of her positions was with a Mrs. Frearson in Heanor. Emma wrote in 1856: “Elizabeth is still at Mrs. Frearson. She is such a fine stout girl you would not know her.” Joseph wrote in 1872 that Elizabeth was in service with Mrs. Eliza Sitwell at Derby. (About 1850, Miss Eliza Wilmot-Sitwell provided for a small porch with a handsome Norman doorway at the west end of the St. John the Baptist parish church in Smalley.)

                              According to Elizabeth’s birth certificate and the 1841 census, John was a butcher. By 1851, the household included a nurse and a servant, and John was listed as a “victular.” Anne wrote in February 1854, “John has left the Public House a year and a half ago. He is living where Plumbs (Ann Plumb witnessed William’s death certificate with her mark) did and Thomas Allen has the land. He has been working at James Eley’s all winter.” In 1861, Ellen lived with John and Sarah and the three boys.

                              John sold his share in the inheritance from their mother and disappeared after her death. (He died in Doncaster, Yorkshire, in 1893.) At that time Charles, the youngest would have been 21. Indeed, Joseph wrote in July 1872: “John’s children are all grown up”.

                              In May 1872, Joseph wrote: “For what do you think, John has sold his share and he has acted very bad since his wife died and at the same time he sold all his furniture. You may guess I have never seen him but once since poor mother’s funeral and he is gone now no one knows where.”

                              In February 1874 Joseph wrote: “You want to know what made John go away. Well, I will give you one reason. I think I told you that when his wife died he persuaded me to leave Derby and come to live with him. Well so we did and dear Harriet to keep his house. Well he insulted my wife and offered things to her that was not proper and my dear wife had the power to resist his unmanly conduct. I did not think he could of served me such a dirty trick so that is one thing dear brother. He could not look me in the face when we met. Then after we left him he got a woman in the house and I suppose they lived as man and wife. She caught the small pox and died and there he was by himself like some wild man. Well dear brother I could not go to him again after he had served me and mine as he had and I believe he was greatly in debt too so that he sold his share out of the property and when he received the money at Belper he went away and has never been seen by any of us since but I have heard of him being at Sheffield enquiring for Sam Caldwell. You will remember him. He worked in the Nag’s Head yard but I have heard nothing no more of him.”

                              A mention of a John Housley of Heanor in the Nottinghma Journal 1875.  I don’t know for sure if the John mentioned here is the brother John who Joseph describes above as behaving improperly to his wife. John Housley had a son Joseph, born in 1840, and John’s wife Sarah died in 1870.

                              John Housley

                               

                              In 1876, the solicitor wrote to George: “Have you heard of John Housley? He is entitled to Robert’s share and I want him to claim it.”

                               

                              SAMUEL HOUSLEY 1816-

                              Sam married Elizabeth Brookes of Sutton Coldfield, and they had three daughters: Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Catherine.  Elizabeth his wife died in 1849, a few months after Samuel’s father William died in 1848. The particular circumstances relating to these individuals have been discussed in previous chapters; the following are letter excerpts relating to them.

                              Death of William Housley 15 Dec 1848, and Elizabeth Housley 5 April 1849, Smalley:

                              Housley Deaths

                               

                              Joseph wrote in December 1872: “I saw one of Sam’s daughters, the youngest Kate, you would remember her a baby I dare say. She is very comfortably married.”

                              In the same letter (December 15, 1872), Joseph wrote:  “I think we have now found all out now that is concerned in the matter for there was only Sam that we did not know his whereabouts but I was informed a week ago that he is dead–died about three years ago in Birmingham Union. Poor Sam. He ought to have come to a better end than that….His daughter and her husband went to Brimingham and also to Sutton Coldfield that is where he married his wife from and found out his wife’s brother. It appears he has been there and at Birmingham ever since he went away but ever fond of drink.”

                              (Sam, however, was still alive in 1871, living as a lodger at the George and Dragon Inn, Henley in Arden. And no trace of Sam has been found since. It would appear that Sam did not want to be found.)

                               

                              EDWARD HOUSLEY 1819-1843

                              Edward died before George left for USA in 1851, and as such there is no mention of him in the letters.

                               

                              ANNE HOUSLEY 1821-1856

                              Anne wrote two letters to her brother George between February 1854 and her death in 1856. Apparently she suffered from a lung disease for she wrote: “I can say you will be surprised I am still living and better but still cough and spit a deal. Can do nothing but sit and sew.” According to the 1851 census, Anne, then 29, was a seamstress. Their friend, Mrs. Davy, wrote in March 1856: “This I send in a box to my Brother….The pincushion cover and pen wiper are Anne’s work–are for thy wife. She would have made it up had she been able.” Anne was not living at home at the time of the 1841 census. She would have been 19 or 20 and perhaps was “out service.”

                              In her second letter Anne wrote: “It is a great trouble now for me to write…as the body weakens so does the mind often. I have been very weak all summer. That I continue is a wonder to all and to spit so much although much better than when you left home.” She also wrote: “You know I had a desire for America years ago. Were I in health and strength, it would be the land of my adoption.”

                              In November 1855, Emma wrote, “Anne has been very ill all summer and has not been able to write or do anything.” Their neighbor Mrs. Davy wrote on March 21, 1856: “I fear Anne will not be long without a change.” In a black-edged letter the following June, Emma wrote: “I need not tell you how happy she was and how calmly and peacefully she died. She only kept in bed two days.”

                              Certainly Anne was a woman of deep faith and strong religious convictions. When she wrote that they were hoping to hear of Charles’ success on the gold fields she added: “But I would rather hear of him having sought and found the Pearl of great price than all the gold Australia can produce, (For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul?).” Then she asked George: “I should like to learn how it was you were first led to seek pardon and a savior. I do feel truly rejoiced to hear you have been led to seek and find this Pearl through the workings of the Holy Spirit and I do pray that He who has begun this good work in each of us may fulfill it and carry it on even unto the end and I can never doubt the willingness of Jesus who laid down his life for us. He who said whoever that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”

                              Anne’s will was probated October 14, 1856. Mr. William Davy of Kidsley Park appeared for the family. Her estate was valued at under £20. Emma was to receive fancy needlework, a four post bedstead, feather bed and bedding, a mahogany chest of drawers, plates, linen and china. Emma was also to receive Anne’s writing desk. There was a condition that Ellen would have use of these items until her death.

                              The money that Anne was to receive from her grandfather, William Carrington, and her father, William Housley was to be distributed one third to Joseph, one third to Emma, and one third to be divided between her four neices: John’s daughter Elizabeth, 18, and Sam’s daughters Elizabeth, 10, Mary Ann, 9 and Catharine, age 7 to be paid by the trustees as they think “most useful and proper.” Emma Lyon and Elizabeth Davy were the witnesses.

                              The Carrington Farm:

                              Carringtons Farm

                               

                              CHARLES HOUSLEY 1823-1855

                              Charles went to Australia in 1851, and was last heard from in January 1853. According to the solicitor, who wrote to George on June 3, 1874, Charles had received advances on the settlement of their parent’s estate. “Your promissory note with the two signed by your brother Charles for 20 pounds he received from his father and 20 pounds he received from his mother are now in the possession of the court.”

                              Charles and George were probably quite close friends. Anne wrote in 1854: “Charles inquired very particularly in both his letters after you.”

                              According to Anne, Charles and a friend married two sisters. He and his father-in-law had a farm where they had 130 cows and 60 pigs. Whatever the trade he learned in England, he never worked at it once he reached Australia. While it does not seem that Charles went to Australia because gold had been discovered there, he was soon caught up in “gold fever”. Anne wrote: “I dare say you have heard of the immense gold fields of Australia discovered about the time he went. Thousands have since then emigrated to Australia, both high and low. Such accounts we heard in the papers of people amassing fortunes we could not believe. I asked him when I wrote if it was true. He said this was no exaggeration for people were making their fortune daily and he intended going to the diggings in six weeks for he could stay away no longer so that we are hoping to hear of his success if he is alive.”

                              In March 1856, Mrs. Davy wrote: “I am sorry to tell thee they have had a letter from Charles’s wife giving account of Charles’s death of 6 months consumption at the Victoria diggings. He has left 2 children a boy and a girl William and Ellen.” In June of the same year in a black edged letter, Emma wrote: “I think Mrs. Davy mentioned Charles’s death in her note. His wife wrote to us. They have two children Helen and William. Poor dear little things. How much I should like to see them all. She writes very affectionately.”

                              In December 1872, Joseph wrote: “I’m told that Charles two daughters has wrote to Smalley post office making inquiries about his share….” In January 1876, the solicitor wrote: “Charles Housley’s children have claimed their father’s share.”

                               

                              GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

                              George emigrated to the United states in 1851, arriving in July. The solicitor Abraham John Flint referred in a letter to a 15-pound advance which was made to George on June 9, 1851. This certainly was connected to his journey. George settled along the Delaware River in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The letters from the solicitor were addressed to: Lahaska Post Office, Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

                              George married Sarah Ann Hill on May 6, 1854 in Doylestown, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. In her first letter (February 1854), Anne wrote: “We want to know who and what is this Miss Hill you name in your letter. What age is she? Send us all the particulars but I would advise you not to get married until you have sufficient to make a comfortable home.”

                              Upon learning of George’s marriage, Anne wrote: “I hope dear brother you may be happy with your wife….I hope you will be as a son to her parents. Mother unites with me in kind love to you both and to your father and mother with best wishes for your health and happiness.” In 1872 (December) Joseph wrote: “I am sorry to hear that sister’s father is so ill. It is what we must all come to some time and hope we shall meet where there is no more trouble.”

                              Emma wrote in 1855, “We write in love to your wife and yourself and you must write soon and tell us whether there is a little nephew or niece and what you call them.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “We want to see dear Sarah Ann and the dear little boy. We were much pleased with the “bit of news” you sent.” The bit of news was the birth of John Eley Housley, January 11, 1855. Emma concluded her letter “Give our very kindest love to dear sister and dearest Johnnie.”

                              In September 1872, Joseph wrote, “I was very sorry to hear that John your oldest had met with such a sad accident but I hope he is got alright again by this time.” In the same letter, Joseph asked: “Now I want to know what sort of a town you are living in or village. How far is it from New York? Now send me all particulars if you please.”

                              In March 1873 Harriet asked Sarah Ann: “And will you please send me all the news at the place and what it is like for it seems to me that it is a wild place but you must tell me what it is like….”.  The question of whether she was referring to Bucks County, Pennsylvania or some other place is raised in Joseph’s letter of the same week.
                              On March 17, 1873, Joseph wrote: “I was surprised to hear that you had gone so far away west. Now dear brother what ever are you doing there so far away from home and family–looking out for something better I suppose.”

                              The solicitor wrote on May 23, 1874: “Lately I have not written because I was not certain of your address and because I doubted I had much interesting news to tell you.” Later, Joseph wrote concerning the problems settling the estate, “You see dear brother there is only me here on our side and I cannot do much. I wish you were here to help me a bit and if you think of going for another summer trip this turn you might as well run over here.”

                              Apparently, George had indicated he might return to England for a visit in 1856. Emma wrote concerning the portrait of their mother which had been sent to George: “I hope you like mother’s portrait. I did not see it but I suppose it was not quite perfect about the eyes….Joseph and I intend having ours taken for you when you come over….Do come over before very long.”

                              In March 1873, Joseph wrote: “You ask me what I think of you coming to England. I think as you have given the trustee power to sign for you I think you could do no good but I should like to see you once again for all that. I can’t say whether there would be anything amiss if you did come as you say it would be throwing good money after bad.”

                              On June 10, 1875, the solicitor wrote: “I have been expecting to hear from you for some time past. Please let me hear what you are doing and where you are living and how I must send you your money.” George’s big news at that time was that on May 3, 1875, he had become a naturalized citizen “renouncing and abjuring all allegiance and fidelity to every foreign prince, potentate, state and sovereignity whatsoever, and particularly to Victoria Queen of Great Britain of whom he was before a subject.”

                               

                              ROBERT HOUSLEY 1832-1851

                              In 1854, Anne wrote: “Poor Robert. He died in August after you left he broke a blood vessel in the lung.”
                              From Joseph’s first letter we learn that Robert was 19 when he died: “Dear brother there have been a great many changes in the family since you left us. All is gone except myself and John and Sam–we have heard nothing of him since he left. Robert died first when he was 19 years of age. Then Anne and Charles too died in Australia and then a number of years elapsed before anyone else. Then John lost his wife, then Emma, and last poor dear mother died last January on the 11th.”

                              Anne described Robert’s death in this way: “He had thrown up blood many times before in the spring but the last attack weakened him that he only lived a fortnight after. He died at Derby. Mother was with him. Although he suffered much he never uttered a murmur or regret and always a smile on his face for everyone that saw him. He will be regretted by all that knew him”.

                              Robert died a resident of St. Peter’s Parish, Derby, but was buried in Smalley on August 16, 1851.
                              Apparently Robert was apprenticed to be a joiner for, according to Anne, Joseph took his place: “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after and is there still.”

                              In 1876, the solicitor wrote to George: “Have you heard of John Housley? He is entitled to Robert’s share and I want him to claim it.”

                               

                              EMMA HOUSLEY 1836-1871

                              Emma was not mentioned in Anne’s first letter. In the second, Anne wrote that Emma was living at Spondon with two ladies in her “third situation,” and added, “She is grown a bouncing woman.” Anne described her sister well. Emma wrote in her first letter (November 12, 1855): “I must tell you that I am just 21 and we had my pudding last Sunday. I wish I could send you a piece.”

                              From Emma’s letters we learn that she was living in Derby from May until November 1855 with Mr. Haywood, an iron merchant. She explained, “He has failed and I have been obliged to leave,” adding, “I expect going to a new situation very soon. It is at Belper.” In 1851 records, William Haywood, age 22, was listed as an iron foundry worker. In the 1857 Derby Directory, James and George were listed as iron and brass founders and ironmongers with an address at 9 Market Place, Derby.

                              In June 1856, Emma wrote from “The Cedars, Ashbourne Road” where she was working for Mr. Handysides.
                              While she was working for Mr. Handysides, Emma wrote: “Mother is thinking of coming to live at Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I.”

                              Friargate and Ashbourne Road were located in St. Werburgh’s Parish. (In fact, St. Werburgh’s vicarage was at 185 Surrey Street. This clue led to the discovery of the record of Emma’s marriage on May 6, 1858, to Edwin Welch Harvey, son of Samuel Harvey in St. Werburgh’s.)

                              In 1872, Joseph wrote: “Our sister Emma, she died at Derby at her own home for she was married. She has left two young children behind. The husband was the son of the man that I went apprentice to and has caused a great deal of trouble to our family and I believe hastened poor Mother’s death….”.   Joseph added that he believed Emma’s “complaint” was consumption and that she was sick a good bit. Joseph wrote: “Mother was living with John when I came home (from Ascension Island around 1867? or to Smalley from Derby around 1870?) for when Emma was married she broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby did not agree with her so she had to leave it again but left all her things there.”

                              Emma Housley and Edwin Welch Harvey wedding, 1858:

                              Emma Housley wedding

                               

                              JOSEPH HOUSLEY 1838-1893

                              We first hear of Joseph in a letter from Anne to George in 1854. “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after (probably 1851) and is there still. He is grown as tall as you I think quite a man.” Emma concurred in her first letter: “He is quite a man in his appearance and quite as tall as you.”

                              From Emma we learn in 1855: “Joseph has left Mr. Harvey. He had not work to employ him. So mother thought he had better leave his indenture and be at liberty at once than wait for Harvey to be a bankrupt. He has got a very good place of work now and is very steady.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote “Joseph and I intend to have our portraits taken for you when you come over….Mother is thinking of coming to Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I. Joseph is very hearty I am happy to say.”

                              According to Joseph’s letters, he was married to Harriet Ballard. Joseph described their miraculous reunion in this way: “I must tell you that I have been abroad myself to the Island of Ascension. (Elsewhere he wrote that he was on the island when the American civil war broke out). I went as a Royal Marine and worked at my trade and saved a bit of money–enough to buy my discharge and enough to get married with but while I was out on the island who should I meet with there but my dear wife’s sister. (On two occasions Joseph and Harriet sent George the name and address of Harriet’s sister, Mrs. Brooks, in Susquehanna Depot, Pennsylvania, but it is not clear whether this was the same sister.) She was lady’s maid to the captain’s wife. Though I had never seen her before we got to know each other somehow so from that me and my wife recommenced our correspondence and you may be sure I wanted to get home to her. But as soon as I did get home that is to England I was not long before I was married and I have not regretted yet for we are very comfortable as well as circumstances will allow for I am only a journeyman joiner.”

                              Proudly, Joseph wrote: “My little family consists of three nice children–John, Joseph and Susy Annie.” On her birth certificate, Susy Ann’s birthdate is listed as 1871. Parish records list a Lucy Annie christened in 1873. The boys were born in Derby, John in 1868 and Joseph in 1869. In his second letter, Joseph repeated: “I have got three nice children, a good wife and I often think is more than I have deserved.” On August 6, 1873, Joseph and Harriet wrote: “We both thank you dear sister for the pieces of money you sent for the children. I don’t know as I have ever see any before.” Joseph ended another letter: “Now I must close with our kindest love to you all and kisses from the children.”

                              In Harriet’s letter to Sarah Ann (March 19, 1873), she promised: “I will send you myself and as soon as the weather gets warm as I can take the children to Derby, I will have them taken and send them, but it is too cold yet for we have had a very cold winter and a great deal of rain.” At this time, the children were all under 6 and the baby was not yet two.

                              In March 1873 Joseph wrote: “I have been working down at Heanor gate there is a joiner shop there where Kings used to live I have been working there this winter and part of last summer but the wages is very low but it is near home that is one comfort.” (Heanor Gate is about 1/4 mile from Kidsley Grange. There was a school and industrial park there in 1988.) At this time Joseph and his family were living in “the big house–in Old Betty Hanson’s house.” The address in the 1871 census was Smalley Lane.

                              A glimpse into Joseph’s personality is revealed by this remark to George in an 1872 letter: “Many thanks for your portrait and will send ours when we can get them taken for I never had but one taken and that was in my old clothes and dear Harriet is not willing to part with that. I tell her she ought to be satisfied with the original.”

                              On one occasion Joseph and Harriet both sent seeds. (Marks are still visible on the paper.) Joseph sent “the best cow cabbage seed in the country–Robinson Champion,” and Harriet sent red cabbage–Shaw’s Improved Red. Possibly cow cabbage was also known as ox cabbage: “I hope you will have some good cabbages for the Ox cabbage takes all the prizes here. I suppose you will be taking the prizes out there with them.” Joseph wrote that he would put the name of the seeds by each “but I should think that will not matter. You will tell the difference when they come up.”

                              George apparently would have liked Joseph to come to him as early as 1854. Anne wrote: “As to his coming to you that must be left for the present.” In 1872, Joseph wrote: “I have been thinking of making a move from here for some time before I heard from you for it is living from hand to mouth and never certain of a job long either.” Joseph then made plans to come to the United States in the spring of 1873. “For I intend all being well leaving England in the spring. Many thanks for your kind offer but I hope we shall be able to get a comfortable place before we have been out long.” Joseph promised to bring some things George wanted and asked: “What sort of things would be the best to bring out there for I don’t want to bring a lot that is useless.” Joseph’s plans are confirmed in a letter from the solicitor May 23, 1874: “I trust you are prospering and in good health. Joseph seems desirous of coming out to you when this is settled.”

                              George must have been reminiscing about gooseberries (Heanor has an annual gooseberry show–one was held July 28, 1872) and Joseph promised to bring cuttings when they came: “Dear Brother, I could not get the gooseberries for they was all gathered when I received your letter but we shall be able to get some seed out the first chance and I shall try to bring some cuttings out along.” In the same letter that he sent the cabbage seeds Joseph wrote: “I have got some gooseberries drying this year for you. They are very fine ones but I have only four as yet but I was promised some more when they were ripe.” In another letter Joseph sent gooseberry seeds and wrote their names: Victoria, Gharibaldi and Globe.

                              In September 1872 Joseph wrote; “My wife is anxious to come. I hope it will suit her health for she is not over strong.” Elsewhere Joseph wrote that Harriet was “middling sometimes. She is subject to sick headaches. It knocks her up completely when they come on.” In December 1872 Joseph wrote, “Now dear brother about us coming to America you know we shall have to wait until this affair is settled and if it is not settled and thrown into Chancery I’m afraid we shall have to stay in England for I shall never be able to save money enough to bring me out and my family but I hope of better things.”

                              On July 19, 1875 Abraham Flint (the solicitor) wrote: “Joseph Housley has removed from Smalley and is working on some new foundry buildings at Little Chester near Derby. He lives at a village called Little Eaton near Derby. If you address your letter to him as Joseph Housley, carpenter, Little Eaton near Derby that will no doubt find him.”

                              George did not save any letters from Joseph after 1874, hopefully he did reach him at Little Eaton. Joseph and his family are not listed in either Little Eaton or Derby on the 1881 census.

                              In his last letter (February 11, 1874), Joseph sounded very discouraged and wrote that Harriet’s parents were very poorly and both had been “in bed for a long time.” In addition, Harriet and the children had been ill.
                              The move to Little Eaton may indicate that Joseph received his settlement because in August, 1873, he wrote: “I think this is bad news enough and bad luck too, but I have had little else since I came to live at Kiddsley cottages but perhaps it is all for the best if one could only think so. I have begun to think there will be no chance for us coming over to you for I am afraid there will not be so much left as will bring us out without it is settled very shortly but I don’t intend leaving this house until it is settled either one way or the other. “

                              Joseph Housley and the Kiddsley cottages:

                              Joseph Housley

                              #6268
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                From Tanganyika with Love

                                continued part 9

                                With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                                Lyamungu 3rd January 1945

                                Dearest Family.

                                We had a novel Christmas this year. We decided to avoid the expense of
                                entertaining and being entertained at Lyamungu, and went off to spend Christmas
                                camping in a forest on the Western slopes of Kilimanjaro. George decided to combine
                                business with pleasure and in this way we were able to use Government transport.
                                We set out the day before Christmas day and drove along the road which skirts
                                the slopes of Kilimanjaro and first visited a beautiful farm where Philip Teare, the ex
                                Game Warden, and his wife Mary are staying. We had afternoon tea with them and then
                                drove on in to the natural forest above the estate and pitched our tent beside a small
                                clear mountain stream. We decorated the tent with paper streamers and a few small
                                balloons and John found a small tree of the traditional shape which we decorated where
                                it stood with tinsel and small ornaments.

                                We put our beer, cool drinks for the children and bottles of fresh milk from Simba
                                Estate, in the stream and on Christmas morning they were as cold as if they had been in
                                the refrigerator all night. There were not many presents for the children, there never are,
                                but they do not seem to mind and are well satisfied with a couple of balloons apiece,
                                sweets, tin whistles and a book each.

                                George entertain the children before breakfast. He can make a magical thing out
                                of the most ordinary balloon. The children watched entranced as he drew on his pipe
                                and then blew the smoke into the balloon. He then pinched the neck of the balloon
                                between thumb and forefinger and released the smoke in little puffs. Occasionally the
                                balloon ejected a perfect smoke ring and the forest rang with shouts of “Do it again
                                Daddy.” Another trick was to blow up the balloon to maximum size and then twist the
                                neck tightly before releasing. Before subsiding the balloon darted about in a crazy
                                fashion causing great hilarity. Such fun, at the cost of a few pence.

                                After breakfast George went off to fish for trout. John and Jim decided that they
                                also wished to fish so we made rods out of sticks and string and bent pins and they
                                fished happily, but of course quite unsuccessfully, for hours. Both of course fell into the
                                stream and got soaked, but I was prepared for this, and the little stream was so shallow
                                that they could not come to any harm. Henry played happily in the sand and I had a
                                most peaceful morning.

                                Hamisi roasted a chicken in a pot over the camp fire and the jelly set beautifully in the
                                stream. So we had grilled trout and chicken for our Christmas dinner. I had of course
                                taken an iced cake for the occasion and, all in all, it was a very successful Christmas day.
                                On Boxing day we drove down to the plains where George was to investigate a
                                report of game poaching near the Ngassari Furrow. This is a very long ditch which has
                                been dug by the Government for watering the Masai stock in the area. It is also used by
                                game and we saw herds of zebra and wildebeest, and some Grant’s Gazelle and
                                giraffe, all comparatively tame. At one point a small herd of zebra raced beside the lorry
                                apparently enjoying the fun of a gallop. They were all sleek and fat and looked wild and
                                beautiful in action.

                                We camped a considerable distance from the water but this precaution did not
                                save us from the mosquitoes which launched a vicious attack on us after sunset, so that
                                we took to our beds unusually early. They were on the job again when we got up at
                                sunrise so I was very glad when we were once more on our way home.

                                “I like Christmas safari. Much nicer that silly old party,” said John. I agree but I think
                                it is time that our children learned to play happily with others. There are no other young
                                children at Lyamungu though there are two older boys and a girl who go to boarding
                                school in Nairobi.

                                On New Years Day two Army Officers from the military camp at Moshi, came for
                                tea and to talk game hunting with George. I think they rather enjoy visiting a home and
                                seeing children and pets around.

                                Eleanor.

                                Lyamungu 14 May 1945

                                Dearest Family.

                                So the war in Europe is over at last. It is such marvellous news that I can hardly
                                believe it. To think that as soon as George can get leave we will go to England and
                                bring Ann and George home with us to Tanganyika. When we know when this leave can
                                be arranged we will want Kate to join us here as of course she must go with us to
                                England to meet George’s family. She has become so much a part of your lives that I
                                know it will be a wrench for you to give her up but I know that you will all be happy to
                                think that soon our family will be reunited.

                                The V.E. celebrations passed off quietly here. We all went to Moshi to see the
                                Victory Parade of the King’s African Rifles and in the evening we went to a celebration
                                dinner at the Game Warden’s house. Besides ourselves the Moores had invited the
                                Commanding Officer from Moshi and a junior officer. We had a very good dinner and
                                many toasts including one to Mrs Moore’s brother, Oliver Milton who is fighting in Burma
                                and has recently been awarded the Military Cross.

                                There was also a celebration party for the children in the grounds of the Moshi
                                Club. Such a spread! I think John and Jim sampled everything. We mothers were
                                having our tea separately and a friend laughingly told me to turn around and have a look.
                                I did, and saw the long tea tables now deserted by all the children but my two sons who
                                were still eating steadily, and finding the party more exciting than the game of Musical
                                Bumps into which all the other children had entered with enthusiasm.

                                There was also an extremely good puppet show put on by the Italian prisoners
                                of war from the camp at Moshi. They had made all the puppets which included well
                                loved characters like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and the Babes in the Wood as
                                well as more sophisticated ones like an irritable pianist and a would be prima donna. The
                                most popular puppets with the children were a native askari and his family – a very
                                happy little scene. I have never before seen a puppet show and was as entranced as
                                the children. It is amazing what clever manipulation and lighting can do. I believe that the
                                Italians mean to take their puppets to Nairobi and am glad to think that there, they will
                                have larger audiences to appreciate their art.

                                George has just come in, and I paused in my writing to ask him for the hundredth
                                time when he thinks we will get leave. He says I must be patient because it may be a
                                year before our turn comes. Shipping will be disorganised for months to come and we
                                cannot expect priority simply because we have been separated so long from our
                                children. The same situation applies to scores of other Government Officials.
                                I have decided to write the story of my childhood in South Africa and about our
                                life together in Tanganyika up to the time Ann and George left the country. I know you
                                will have told Kate these stories, but Ann and George were so very little when they left
                                home that I fear that they cannot remember much.

                                My Mother-in-law will have told them about their father but she can tell them little
                                about me. I shall send them one chapter of my story each month in the hope that they
                                may be interested and not feel that I am a stranger when at last we meet again.

                                Eleanor.

                                Lyamungu 19th September 1945

                                Dearest Family.

                                In a months time we will be saying good-bye to Lyamungu. George is to be
                                transferred to Mbeya and I am delighted, not only as I look upon Mbeya as home, but
                                because there is now a primary school there which John can attend. I feel he will make
                                much better progress in his lessons when he realises that all children of his age attend
                                school. At present he is putting up a strong resistance to learning to read and spell, but
                                he writes very neatly, does his sums accurately and shows a real talent for drawing. If
                                only he had the will to learn I feel he would do very well.

                                Jim now just four, is too young for lessons but too intelligent to be interested in
                                the ayah’s attempts at entertainment. Yes I’ve had to engage a native girl to look after
                                Henry from 9 am to 12.30 when I supervise John’s Correspondence Course. She is
                                clean and amiable, but like most African women she has no initiative at all when it comes
                                to entertaining children. Most African men and youths are good at this.

                                I don’t regret our stay at Lyamungu. It is a beautiful spot and the change to the
                                cooler climate after the heat of Morogoro has been good for all the children. John is still
                                tall for his age but not so thin as he was and much less pale. He is a handsome little lad
                                with his large brown eyes in striking contrast to his fair hair. He is wary of strangers but
                                very observant and quite uncanny in the way he sums up people. He seldom gets up
                                to mischief but I have a feeling he eggs Jim on. Not that Jim needs egging.

                                Jim has an absolute flair for mischief but it is all done in such an artless manner that
                                it is not easy to punish him. He is a very sturdy child with a cap of almost black silky hair,
                                eyes brown, like mine, and a large mouth which is quick to smile and show most beautiful
                                white and even teeth. He is most popular with all the native servants and the Game
                                Scouts. The servants call Jim, ‘Bwana Tembo’ (Mr Elephant) because of his sturdy
                                build.

                                Henry, now nearly two years old, is quite different from the other two in
                                appearance. He is fair complexioned and fair haired like Ann and Kate, with large, black
                                lashed, light grey eyes. He is a good child, not so merry as Jim was at his age, nor as
                                shy as John was. He seldom cries, does not care to be cuddled and is independent and
                                strong willed. The servants call Henry, ‘Bwana Ndizi’ (Mr Banana) because he has an
                                inexhaustible appetite for this fruit. Fortunately they are very inexpensive here. We buy
                                an entire bunch which hangs from a beam on the back verandah, and pluck off the
                                bananas as they ripen. This way there is no waste and the fruit never gets bruised as it
                                does in greengrocers shops in South Africa. Our three boys make a delightful and
                                interesting trio and I do wish you could see them for yourselves.

                                We are delighted with the really beautiful photograph of Kate. She is an
                                extraordinarily pretty child and looks so happy and healthy and a great credit to you.
                                Now that we will be living in Mbeya with a school on the doorstep I hope that we will
                                soon be able to arrange for her return home.

                                Eleanor.

                                c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 30th October 1945

                                Dearest Family.

                                How nice to be able to write c/o Game Dept. Mbeya at the head of my letters.
                                We arrived here safely after a rather tiresome journey and are installed in a tiny house on
                                the edge of the township.

                                We left Lyamungu early on the morning of the 22nd. Most of our goods had
                                been packed on the big Ford lorry the previous evening, but there were the usual
                                delays and farewells. Of our servants, only the cook, Hamisi, accompanied us to
                                Mbeya. Japhet, Tovelo and the ayah had to be paid off and largesse handed out.
                                Tovelo’s granny had come, bringing a gift of bananas, and she also brought her little
                                granddaughter to present a bunch of flowers. The child’s little scolded behind is now
                                completely healed. Gifts had to be found for them too.

                                At last we were all aboard and what a squash it was! Our few pieces of furniture
                                and packing cases and trunks, the cook, his wife, the driver and the turney boy, who
                                were to take the truck back to Lyamungu, and all their bits and pieces, bunches of
                                bananas and Fanny the dog were all crammed into the body of the lorry. George, the
                                children and I were jammed together in the cab. Before we left George looked
                                dubiously at the tyres which were very worn and said gloomily that he thought it most
                                unlikely that we would make our destination, Dodoma.

                                Too true! Shortly after midday, near Kwakachinja, we blew a back tyre and there
                                was a tedious delay in the heat whilst the wheel was changed. We were now without a
                                spare tyre and George said that he would not risk taking the Ford further than Babati,
                                which is less than half way to Dodoma. He drove very slowly and cautiously to Babati
                                where he arranged with Sher Mohammed, an Indian trader, for a lorry to take us to
                                Dodoma the next morning.

                                It had been our intention to spend the night at the furnished Government
                                Resthouse at Babati but when we got there we found that it was already occupied by
                                several District Officers who had assembled for a conference. So, feeling rather
                                disgruntled, we all piled back into the lorry and drove on to a place called Bereku where
                                we spent an uncomfortable night in a tumbledown hut.

                                Before dawn next morning Sher Mohammed’s lorry drove up, and there was a
                                scramble to dress by the light of a storm lamp. The lorry was a very dilapidated one and
                                there was already a native woman passenger in the cab. I felt so tired after an almost
                                sleepless night that I decided to sit between the driver and this woman with the sleeping
                                Henry on my knee. It was as well I did, because I soon found myself dosing off and
                                drooping over towards the woman. Had she not been there I might easily have fallen
                                out as the battered cab had no door. However I was alert enough when daylight came
                                and changed places with the woman to our mutual relief. She was now able to converse
                                with the African driver and I was able to enjoy the scenery and the fresh air!
                                George, John and Jim were less comfortable. They sat in the lorry behind the
                                cab hemmed in by packing cases. As the lorry was an open one the sun beat down
                                unmercifully upon them until George, ever resourceful, moved a table to the front of the
                                truck. The two boys crouched under this and so got shelter from the sun but they still had
                                to endure the dust. Fanny complicated things by getting car sick and with one thing and
                                another we were all jolly glad to get to Dodoma.

                                We spent the night at the Dodoma Hotel and after hot baths, a good meal and a
                                good nights rest we cheerfully boarded a bus of the Tanganyika Bus Service next
                                morning to continue our journey to Mbeya. The rest of the journey was uneventful. We slept two nights on the road, the first at Iringa Hotel and the second at Chimala. We
                                reached Mbeya on the 27th.

                                I was rather taken aback when I first saw the little house which has been allocated
                                to us. I had become accustomed to the spacious houses we had in Morogoro and
                                Lyamungu. However though the house is tiny it is secluded and has a long garden
                                sloping down to the road in front and another long strip sloping up behind. The front
                                garden is shaded by several large cypress and eucalyptus trees but the garden behind
                                the house has no shade and consists mainly of humpy beds planted with hundreds of
                                carnations sadly in need of debudding. I believe that the previous Game Ranger’s wife
                                cultivated the carnations and, by selling them, raised money for War Funds.
                                Like our own first home, this little house is built of sun dried brick. Its original
                                owners were Germans. It is now rented to the Government by the Custodian of Enemy
                                Property, and George has his office in another ex German house.

                                This afternoon we drove to the school to arrange about enrolling John there. The
                                school is about four miles out of town. It was built by the German settlers in the late
                                1930’s and they were justifiably proud of it. It consists of a great assembly hall and
                                classrooms in one block and there are several attractive single storied dormitories. This
                                school was taken over by the Government when the Germans were interned on the
                                outbreak of war and many improvements have been made to the original buildings. The
                                school certainly looks very attractive now with its grassed playing fields and its lawns and
                                bright flower beds.

                                The Union Jack flies from a tall flagpole in front of the Hall and all traces of the
                                schools German origin have been firmly erased. We met the Headmaster, Mr
                                Wallington, and his wife and some members of the staff. The school is co-educational
                                and caters for children from the age of seven to standard six. The leaving age is elastic
                                owing to the fact that many Tanganyika children started school very late because of lack
                                of educational facilities in this country.

                                The married members of the staff have their own cottages in the grounds. The
                                Matrons have quarters attached to the dormitories for which they are responsible. I felt
                                most enthusiastic about the school until I discovered that the Headmaster is adamant
                                upon one subject. He utterly refuses to take any day pupils at the school. So now our
                                poor reserved Johnny will have to adjust himself to boarding school life.
                                We have arranged that he will start school on November 5th and I shall be very
                                busy trying to assemble his school uniform at short notice. The clothing list is sensible.
                                Boys wear khaki shirts and shorts on weekdays with knitted scarlet jerseys when the
                                weather is cold. On Sundays they wear grey flannel shorts and blazers with the silver
                                and scarlet school tie.

                                Mbeya looks dusty, brown and dry after the lush evergreen vegetation of
                                Lyamungu, but I prefer this drier climate and there are still mountains to please the eye.
                                In fact the lower slopes of Lolesa Mountain rise at the upper end of our garden.

                                Eleanor.

                                c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 21st November 1945

                                Dearest Family.

                                We’re quite settled in now and I have got the little house fixed up to my
                                satisfaction. I have engaged a rather uncouth looking houseboy but he is strong and
                                capable and now that I am not tied down in the mornings by John’s lessons I am able to
                                go out occasionally in the mornings and take Jim and Henry to play with other children.
                                They do not show any great enthusiasm but are not shy by nature as John is.
                                I have had a good deal of heartache over putting John to boarding school. It
                                would have been different had he been used to the company of children outside his
                                own family, or if he had even known one child there. However he seems to be adjusting
                                himself to the life, though slowly. At least he looks well and tidy and I am quite sure that
                                he is well looked after.

                                I must confess that when the time came for John to go to school I simply did not
                                have the courage to take him and he went alone with George, looking so smart in his
                                new uniform – but his little face so bleak. The next day, Sunday, was visiting day but the
                                Headmaster suggested that we should give John time to settle down and not visit him
                                until Wednesday.

                                When we drove up to the school I spied John on the far side of the field walking
                                all alone. Instead of running up with glad greetings, as I had expected, he came almost
                                reluctently and had little to say. I asked him to show me his dormitory and classroom and
                                he did so politely as though I were a stranger. At last he volunteered some information.
                                “Mummy,” he said in an awed voice, Do you know on the night I came here they burnt a
                                man! They had a big fire and they burnt him.” After a blank moment the penny dropped.
                                Of course John had started school and November the fifth but it had never entered my
                                head to tell him about that infamous character, Guy Fawkes!

                                I asked John’s Matron how he had settled down. “Well”, she said thoughtfully,
                                “John is very good and has not cried as many of the juniors do when they first come
                                here, but he seems to keep to himself all the time.” I went home very discouraged but
                                on the Sunday John came running up with another lad of about his own age.” This is my
                                friend Marks,” he announced proudly. I could have hugged Marks.

                                Mbeya is very different from the small settlement we knew in the early 1930’s.
                                Gone are all the colourful characters from the Lupa diggings for the alluvial claims are all
                                worked out now, gone also are our old friends the Menzies from the Pub and also most
                                of the Government Officials we used to know. Mbeya has lost its character of a frontier
                                township and has become almost suburban.

                                The social life revolves around two places, the Club and the school. The Club
                                which started out as a little two roomed building, has been expanded and the golf
                                course improved. There are also tennis courts and a good library considering the size of
                                the community. There are frequent parties and dances, though most of the club revenue
                                comes from Bar profits. The parties are relatively sober affairs compared with the parties
                                of the 1930’s.

                                The school provides entertainment of another kind. Both Mr and Mrs Wallington
                                are good amateur actors and I am told that they run an Amateur Dramatic Society. Every
                                Wednesday afternoon there is a hockey match at the school. Mbeya town versus a
                                mixed team of staff and scholars. The match attracts almost the whole European
                                population of Mbeya. Some go to play hockey, others to watch, and others to snatch
                                the opportunity to visit their children. I shall have to try to arrange a lift to school when
                                George is away on safari.

                                I have now met most of the local women and gladly renewed an old friendship
                                with Sheilagh Waring whom I knew two years ago at Morogoro. Sheilagh and I have
                                much in common, the same disregard for the trappings of civilisation, the same sense of
                                the ludicrous, and children. She has eight to our six and she has also been cut off by the
                                war from two of her children. Sheilagh looks too young and pretty to be the mother of so
                                large a family and is, in fact, several years younger than I am. her husband, Donald, is a
                                large quiet man who, as far as I can judge takes life seriously.

                                Our next door neighbours are the Bank Manager and his wife, a very pleasant
                                couple though we seldom meet. I have however had correspondence with the Bank
                                Manager. Early on Saturday afternoon their houseboy brought a note. It informed me
                                that my son was disturbing his rest by precipitating a heart attack. Was I aware that my
                                son was about 30 feet up in a tree and balanced on a twig? I ran out and,sure enough,
                                there was Jim, right at the top of the tallest eucalyptus tree. It would be the one with the
                                mound of stones at the bottom! You should have heard me fluting in my most
                                wheedling voice. “Sweets, Jimmy, come down slowly dear, I’ve some nice sweets for
                                you.”

                                I’ll bet that little story makes you smile. I remember how often you have told me
                                how, as a child, I used to make your hearts turn over because I had no fear of heights
                                and how I used to say, “But that is silly, I won’t fall.” I know now only too well, how you
                                must have felt.

                                Eleanor.

                                c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 14th January 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                I hope that by now you have my telegram to say that Kate got home safely
                                yesterday. It was wonderful to have her back and what a beautiful child she is! Kate
                                seems to have enjoyed the train journey with Miss Craig, in spite of the tears she tells
                                me she shed when she said good-bye to you. She also seems to have felt quite at
                                home with the Hopleys at Salisbury. She flew from Salisbury in a small Dove aircraft
                                and they had a smooth passage though Kate was a little airsick.

                                I was so excited about her home coming! This house is so tiny that I had to turn
                                out the little store room to make a bedroom for her. With a fresh coat of whitewash and
                                pretty sprigged curtains and matching bedspread, borrowed from Sheilagh Waring, the
                                tiny room looks most attractive. I had also iced a cake, made ice-cream and jelly and
                                bought crackers for the table so that Kate’s home coming tea could be a proper little
                                celebration.

                                I was pleased with my preparations and then, a few hours before the plane was
                                due, my crowned front tooth dropped out, peg and all! When my houseboy wants to
                                describe something very tatty, he calls it “Second-hand Kabisa.” Kabisa meaning
                                absolutely. That is an apt description of how I looked and felt. I decided to try some
                                emergency dentistry. I think you know our nearest dentist is at Dar es Salaam five
                                hundred miles away.

                                First I carefully dried the tooth and with a match stick covered the peg and base
                                with Durofix. I then took the infants rubber bulb enema, sucked up some heat from a
                                candle flame and pumped it into the cavity before filling that with Durofix. Then hopefully
                                I stuck the tooth in its former position and held it in place for several minutes. No good. I
                                sent the houseboy to a shop for Scotine and tried the whole process again. No good
                                either.

                                When George came home for lunch I appealed to him for advice. He jokingly
                                suggested that a maize seed jammed into the space would probably work, but when
                                he saw that I really was upset he produced some chewing gum and suggested that I
                                should try that . I did and that worked long enough for my first smile anyway.
                                George and the three boys went to meet Kate but I remained at home to
                                welcome her there. I was afraid that after all this time away Kate might be reluctant to
                                rejoin the family but she threw her arms around me and said “Oh Mummy,” We both
                                shed a few tears and then we both felt fine.

                                How gay Kate is, and what an infectious laugh she has! The boys follow her
                                around in admiration. John in fact asked me, “Is Kate a Princess?” When I said
                                “Goodness no, Johnny, she’s your sister,” he explained himself by saying, “Well, she
                                has such golden hair.” Kate was less complementary. When I tucked her in bed last night
                                she said, “Mummy, I didn’t expect my little brothers to be so yellow!” All three boys
                                have been taking a course of Atebrin, an anti-malarial drug which tinges skin and eyeballs
                                yellow.

                                So now our tiny house is bursting at its seams and how good it feels to have one
                                more child under our roof. We are booked to sail for England in May and when we return
                                we will have Ann and George home too. Then I shall feel really content.

                                Eleanor.

                                c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 2nd March 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                My life just now is uneventful but very busy. I am sewing hard and knitting fast to
                                try to get together some warm clothes for our leave in England. This is not a simple
                                matter because woollen materials are in short supply and very expensive, and now that
                                we have boarding school fees to pay for both Kate and John we have to budget very
                                carefully indeed.

                                Kate seems happy at school. She makes friends easily and seems to enjoy
                                communal life. John also seems reconciled to school now that Kate is there. He no
                                longer feels that he is the only exile in the family. He seems to rub along with the other
                                boys of his age and has a couple of close friends. Although Mbeya School is coeducational
                                the smaller boys and girls keep strictly apart. It is considered extremely
                                cissy to play with girls.

                                The local children are allowed to go home on Sundays after church and may bring
                                friends home with them for the day. Both John and Kate do this and Sunday is a very
                                busy day for me. The children come home in their Sunday best but bring play clothes to
                                change into. There is always a scramble to get them to bath and change again in time to
                                deliver them to the school by 6 o’clock.

                                When George is home we go out to the school for the morning service. This is
                                taken by the Headmaster Mr Wallington, and is very enjoyable. There is an excellent
                                school choir to lead the singing. The service is the Church of England one, but is
                                attended by children of all denominations, except the Roman Catholics. I don’t think that
                                more than half the children are British. A large proportion are Greeks, some as old as
                                sixteen, and about the same number are Afrikaners. There are Poles and non-Nazi
                                Germans, Swiss and a few American children.

                                All instruction is through the medium of English and it is amazing how soon all the
                                foreign children learn to chatter in English. George has been told that we will return to
                                Mbeya after our leave and for that I am very thankful as it means that we will still be living
                                near at hand when Jim and Henry start school. Because many of these children have to
                                travel many hundreds of miles to come to school, – Mbeya is a two day journey from the
                                railhead, – the school year is divided into two instead of the usual three terms. This
                                means that many of these children do not see their parents for months at a time. I think
                                this is a very sad state of affairs especially for the seven and eight year olds but the
                                Matrons assure me , that many children who live on isolated farms and stations are quite
                                reluctant to go home because they miss the companionship and the games and
                                entertainment that the school offers.

                                My only complaint about the life here is that I see far too little of George. He is
                                kept extremely busy on this range and is hardly at home except for a few days at the
                                months end when he has to be at his office to check up on the pay vouchers and the
                                issue of ammunition to the Scouts. George’s Range takes in the whole of the Southern
                                Province and the Southern half of the Western Province and extends to the border with
                                Northern Rhodesia and right across to Lake Tanganyika. This vast area is patrolled by
                                only 40 Game Scouts because the Department is at present badly under staffed, due
                                partly to the still acute shortage of rifles, but even more so to the extraordinary reluctance
                                which the Government shows to allocate adequate funds for the efficient running of the
                                Department.

                                The Game Scouts must see that the Game Laws are enforced, protect native
                                crops from raiding elephant, hippo and other game animals. Report disease amongst game and deal with stock raiding lions. By constantly going on safari and checking on
                                their work, George makes sure the range is run to his satisfaction. Most of the Game
                                Scouts are fine fellows but, considering they receive only meagre pay for dangerous
                                and exacting work, it is not surprising that occasionally a Scout is tempted into accepting
                                a bribe not to report a serious infringement of the Game Laws and there is, of course,
                                always the temptation to sell ivory illicitly to unscrupulous Indian and Arab traders.
                                Apart from supervising the running of the Range, George has two major jobs.
                                One is to supervise the running of the Game Free Area along the Rhodesia –
                                Tanganyika border, and the other to hunt down the man-eating lions which for years have
                                terrorised the Njombe District killing hundreds of Africans. Yes I know ‘hundreds’ sounds
                                fantastic, but this is perfectly true and one day, when the job is done and the official
                                report published I shall send it to you to prove it!

                                I hate to think of the Game Free Area and so does George. All the game from
                                buffalo to tiny duiker has been shot out in a wide belt extending nearly two hundred
                                miles along the Northern Rhodesia -Tanganyika border. There are three Europeans in
                                widely spaced camps who supervise this slaughter by African Game Guards. This
                                horrible measure is considered necessary by the Veterinary Departments of
                                Tanganyika, Rhodesia and South Africa, to prevent the cattle disease of Rinderpest
                                from spreading South.

                                When George is home however, we do relax and have fun. On the Saturday
                                before the school term started we took Kate and the boys up to the top fishing camp in
                                the Mporoto Mountains for her first attempt at trout fishing. There are three of these
                                camps built by the Mbeya Trout Association on the rivers which were first stocked with
                                the trout hatched on our farm at Mchewe. Of the three, the top camp is our favourite. The
                                scenery there is most glorious and reminds me strongly of the rivers of the Western
                                Cape which I so loved in my childhood.

                                The river, the Kawira, flows from the Rungwe Mountain through a narrow valley
                                with hills rising steeply on either side. The water runs swiftly over smooth stones and
                                sometimes only a foot or two below the level of the banks. It is sparkling and shallow,
                                but in places the water is deep and dark and the banks high. I had a busy day keeping
                                an eye on the boys, especially Jim, who twice climbed out on branches which overhung
                                deep water. “Mummy, I was only looking for trout!”

                                How those kids enjoyed the freedom of the camp after the comparative
                                restrictions of town. So did Fanny, she raced about on the hills like a mad dog chasing
                                imaginary rabbits and having the time of her life. To escape the noise and commotion
                                George had gone far upstream to fish and returned in the late afternoon with three good
                                sized trout and four smaller ones. Kate proudly showed George the two she had caught
                                with the assistance or our cook Hamisi. I fear they were caught in a rather unorthodox
                                manner but this I kept a secret from George who is a stickler for the orthodox in trout
                                fishing.

                                Eleanor.

                                Jacksdale England 24th June 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                Here we are all together at last in England. You cannot imagine how wonderful it
                                feels to have the whole Rushby family reunited. I find myself counting heads. Ann,
                                George, Kate, John, Jim, and Henry. All present and well. We had a very pleasant trip
                                on the old British India Ship Mantola. She was crowded with East Africans going home
                                for the first time since the war, many like us, eagerly looking forward to a reunion with their
                                children whom they had not seen for years. There was a great air of anticipation and
                                good humour but a little anxiety too.

                                “I do hope our children will be glad to see us,” said one, and went on to tell me
                                about a Doctor from Dar es Salaam who, after years of separation from his son had
                                recently gone to visit him at his school. The Doctor had alighted at the railway station
                                where he had arranged to meet his son. A tall youth approached him and said, very
                                politely, “Excuse me sir. Are you my Father?” Others told me of children who had
                                become so attached to their relatives in England that they gave their parents a very cool
                                reception. I began to feel apprehensive about Ann and George but fortunately had no
                                time to mope.

                                Oh, that washing and ironing for six! I shall remember for ever that steamy little
                                laundry in the heat of the Red Sea and queuing up for the ironing and the feeling of guilt
                                at the size of my bundle. We met many old friends amongst the passengers, and made
                                some new ones, so the voyage was a pleasant one, We did however have our
                                anxious moments.

                                John was the first to disappear and we had an anxious search for him. He was
                                quite surprised that we had been concerned. “I was just talking to my friend Chinky
                                Chinaman in his workshop.” Could John have called him that? Then, when I returned to
                                the cabin from dinner one night I found Henry swigging Owbridge’s Lung Tonic. He had
                                drunk half the bottle neat and the label said ‘five drops in water’. Luckily it did not harm
                                him.

                                Jim of course was forever risking his neck. George had forbidden him to climb on
                                the railings but he was forever doing things which no one had thought of forbidding him
                                to do, like hanging from the overhead pipes on the deck or standing on the sill of a
                                window and looking down at the well deck far below. An Officer found him doing this and
                                gave me the scolding.

                                Another day he climbed up on a derrick used for hoisting cargo. George,
                                oblivious to this was sitting on the hatch cover with other passengers reading a book. I
                                was in the wash house aft on the same deck when Kate rushed in and said, “Mummy
                                come and see Jim.” Before I had time to more than gape, the butcher noticed Jim and
                                rushed out knife in hand. “Get down from there”, he bellowed. Jim got, and with such
                                speed that he caught the leg or his shorts on a projecting piece of metal. The cotton
                                ripped across the seam from leg to leg and Jim stood there for a humiliating moment in a
                                sort of revealing little kilt enduring the smiles of the passengers who had looked up from
                                their books at the butcher’s shout.

                                That incident cured Jim of his urge to climb on the ship but he managed to give
                                us one more fright. He was lost off Dover. People from whom we enquired said, “Yes
                                we saw your little boy. He was by the railings watching that big aircraft carrier.” Now Jim,
                                though mischievous , is very obedient. It was not until George and I had conducted an
                                exhaustive search above and below decks that I really became anxious. Could he have
                                fallen overboard? Jim was returned to us by an unamused Officer. He had been found
                                in one of the lifeboats on the deck forbidden to children.

                                Our ship passed Dover after dark and it was an unforgettable sight. Dover Castle
                                and the cliffs were floodlit for the Victory Celebrations. One of the men passengers sat
                                down at the piano and played ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’, and people sang and a few
                                wept. The Mantola docked at Tilbury early next morning in a steady drizzle.
                                There was a dockers strike on and it took literally hours for all the luggage to be
                                put ashore. The ships stewards simply locked the public rooms and went off leaving the
                                passengers shivering on the docks. Eventually damp and bedraggled, we arrived at St
                                Pancras Station and were given a warm welcome by George’s sister Cath and her
                                husband Reg Pears, who had come all the way from Nottingham to meet us.
                                As we had to spend an hour in London before our train left for Nottingham,
                                George suggested that Cath and I should take the children somewhere for a meal. So
                                off we set in the cold drizzle, the boys and I without coats and laden with sundry
                                packages, including a hand woven native basket full of shoes. We must have looked like
                                a bunch of refugees as we stood in the hall of The Kings Cross Station Hotel because a
                                supercilious waiter in tails looked us up and down and said, “I’m afraid not Madam”, in
                                answer to my enquiry whether the hotel could provide lunch for six.
                                Anyway who cares! We had lunch instead at an ABC tea room — horrible
                                sausage and a mound or rather sloppy mashed potatoes, but very good ice-cream.
                                After the train journey in a very grimy third class coach, through an incredibly green and
                                beautiful countryside, we eventually reached Nottingham and took a bus to Jacksdale,
                                where George’s mother and sisters live in large detached houses side by side.
                                Ann and George were at the bus stop waiting for us, and thank God, submitted
                                to my kiss as though we had been parted for weeks instead of eight years. Even now
                                that we are together again my heart aches to think of all those missed years. They have
                                not changed much and I would have picked them out of a crowd, but Ann, once thin and
                                pale, is now very rosy and blooming. She still has her pretty soft plaits and her eyes are
                                still a clear calm blue. Young George is very striking looking with sparkling brown eyes, a
                                ready, slightly lopsided smile, and charming manners.

                                Mother, and George’s elder sister, Lottie Giles, welcomed us at the door with the
                                cheering news that our tea was ready. Ann showed us the way to mother’s lovely lilac
                                tiled bathroom for a wash before tea. Before I had even turned the tap, Jim had hung
                                form the glass towel rail and it lay in three pieces on the floor. There have since been
                                similar tragedies. I can see that life in civilisation is not without snags.

                                I am most grateful that Ann and George have accepted us so naturally and
                                affectionately. Ann said candidly, “Mummy, it’s a good thing that you had Aunt Cath with
                                you when you arrived because, honestly, I wouldn’t have known you.”

                                Eleanor.

                                Jacksdale England 28th August 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                I am sorry that I have not written for some time but honestly, I don’t know whether
                                I’m coming or going. Mother handed the top floor of her house to us and the
                                arrangement was that I should tidy our rooms and do our laundry and Mother would
                                prepare the meals except for breakfast. It looked easy at first. All the rooms have wall to
                                wall carpeting and there was a large vacuum cleaner in the box room. I was told a
                                window cleaner would do the windows.

                                Well the first time I used the Hoover I nearly died of fright. I pressed the switch
                                and immediately there was a roar and the bag filled with air to bursting point, or so I
                                thought. I screamed for Ann and she came at the run. I pointed to the bag and shouted
                                above the din, “What must I do? It’s going to burst!” Ann looked at me in astonishment
                                and said, “But Mummy that’s the way it works.” I couldn’t have her thinking me a
                                complete fool so I switched the current off and explained to Ann how it was that I had
                                never seen this type of equipment in action. How, in Tanganyika , I had never had a
                                house with electricity and that, anyway, electric equipment would be superfluous
                                because floors are of cement which the houseboy polishes by hand, one only has a
                                few rugs or grass mats on the floor. “But what about Granny’s house in South Africa?’”
                                she asked, so I explained about your Josephine who threatened to leave if you
                                bought a Hoover because that would mean that you did not think she kept the house
                                clean. The sad fact remains that, at fourteen, Ann knows far more about housework than I
                                do, or rather did! I’m learning fast.

                                The older children all go to school at different times in the morning. Ann leaves first
                                by bus to go to her Grammar School at Sutton-in-Ashfield. Shortly afterwards George
                                catches a bus for Nottingham where he attends the High School. So they have
                                breakfast in relays, usually scrambled egg made from a revolting dried egg mixture.
                                Then there are beds to make and washing and ironing to do, so I have little time for
                                sightseeing, though on a few afternoons George has looked after the younger children
                                and I have gone on bus tours in Derbyshire. Life is difficult here with all the restrictions on
                                foodstuffs. We all have ration books so get our fair share but meat, fats and eggs are
                                scarce and expensive. The weather is very wet. At first I used to hang out the washing
                                and then rush to bring it in when a shower came. Now I just let it hang.

                                We have left our imprint upon my Mother-in-law’s house for ever. Henry upset a
                                bottle of Milk of Magnesia in the middle of the pale fawn bedroom carpet. John, trying to
                                be helpful and doing some dusting, broke one of the delicate Dresden china candlesticks
                                which adorn our bedroom mantelpiece.Jim and Henry have wrecked the once
                                professionally landscaped garden and all the boys together bored a large hole through
                                Mother’s prized cherry tree. So now Mother has given up and gone off to Bournemouth
                                for a much needed holiday. Once a week I have the capable help of a cleaning woman,
                                called for some reason, ‘Mrs Two’, but I have now got all the cooking to do for eight. Mrs
                                Two is a godsend. She wears, of all things, a print mob cap with a hole in it. Says it
                                belonged to her Grandmother. Her price is far beyond Rubies to me, not so much
                                because she does, in a couple of hours, what it takes me all day to do, but because she
                                sells me boxes of fifty cigarettes. Some non-smoking relative, who works in Players
                                tobacco factory, passes on his ration to her. Until Mrs Two came to my rescue I had
                                been starved of cigarettes. Each time I asked for them at the shop the grocer would say,
                                “Are you registered with us?” Only very rarely would some kindly soul sell me a little
                                packet of five Woodbines.

                                England is very beautiful but the sooner we go home to Tanganyika, the better.
                                On this, George and I and the children agree.

                                Eleanor.

                                Jacksdale England 20th September 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                Our return passages have now been booked on the Winchester Castle and we
                                sail from Southampton on October the sixth. I look forward to returning to Tanganyika but
                                hope to visit England again in a few years time when our children are older and when
                                rationing is a thing of the past.

                                I have grown fond of my Sisters-in-law and admire my Mother-in-law very much.
                                She has a great sense of humour and has entertained me with stories of her very
                                eventful life, and told me lots of little stories of the children which did not figure in her
                                letters. One which amused me was about young George. During one of the air raids
                                early in the war when the sirens were screaming and bombers roaring overhead Mother
                                made the two children get into the cloak cupboard under the stairs. Young George
                                seemed quite unconcerned about the planes and the bombs but soon an anxious voice
                                asked in the dark, “Gran, what will I do if a spider falls on me?” I am afraid that Mother is
                                going to miss Ann and George very much.

                                I had a holiday last weekend when Lottie and I went up to London on a spree. It
                                was a most enjoyable weekend, though very rushed. We placed ourselves in the
                                hands of Thos. Cook and Sons and saw most of the sights of London and were run off
                                our feet in the process. As you all know London I shall not describe what I saw but just
                                to say that, best of all, I enjoyed walking along the Thames embankment in the evening
                                and the changing of the Guard at Whitehall. On Sunday morning Lottie and I went to
                                Kew Gardens and in the afternoon walked in Kensington Gardens.

                                We went to only one show, ‘The Skin of our Teeth’ starring Vivienne Leigh.
                                Neither of us enjoyed the performance at all and regretted having spent so much on
                                circle seats. The show was far too highbrow for my taste, a sort of satire on the survival
                                of the human race. Miss Leigh was unrecognisable in a blond wig and her voice strident.
                                However the night was not a dead loss as far as entertainment was concerned as we
                                were later caught up in a tragicomedy at our hotel.

                                We had booked communicating rooms at the enormous Imperial Hotel in Russell
                                Square. These rooms were comfortably furnished but very high up, and we had a rather
                                terrifying and dreary view from the windows of the enclosed courtyard far below. We
                                had some snacks and a chat in Lottie’s room and then I moved to mine and went to bed.
                                I had noted earlier that there was a special lock on the outer door of my room so that
                                when the door was closed from the inside it automatically locked itself.
                                I was just dropping off to sleep when I heard a hammering which seemed to
                                come from my wardrobe. I got up, rather fearfully, and opened the wardrobe door and
                                noted for the first time that the wardrobe was set in an opening in the wall and that the
                                back of the wardrobe also served as the back of the wardrobe in the room next door. I
                                quickly shut it again and went to confer with Lottie.

                                Suddenly a male voice was raised next door in supplication, “Mary Mother of
                                God, Help me! They’ve locked me in!” and the hammering resumed again, sometimes
                                on the door, and then again on the back of the wardrobe of the room next door. Lottie
                                had by this time joined me and together we listened to the prayers and to the
                                hammering. Then the voice began to threaten, “If you don’t let me out I’ll jump out of the
                                window.” Great consternation on our side of the wall. I went out into the passage and
                                called through the door, “You’re not locked in. Come to your door and I’ll tell you how to
                                open it.” Silence for a moment and then again the prayers followed by a threat. All the
                                other doors in the corridor remained shut.

                                Luckily just then a young man and a woman came walking down the corridor and I
                                explained the situation. The young man hurried off for the night porter who went into the
                                next door room. In a matter of minutes there was peace next door. When the night
                                porter came out into the corridor again I asked for an explanation. He said quite casually,
                                “It’s all right Madam. He’s an Irish Gentleman in Show Business. He gets like this on a
                                Saturday night when he has had a drop too much. He won’t give any more trouble
                                now.” And he didn’t. Next morning at breakfast Lottie and I tried to spot the gentleman in
                                the Show Business, but saw no one who looked like the owner of that charming Irish
                                voice.

                                George had to go to London on business last Monday and took the older
                                children with him for a few hours of sight seeing. They returned quite unimpressed.
                                Everything was too old and dirty and there were far too many people about, but they
                                had enjoyed riding on the escalators at the tube stations, and all agreed that the highlight
                                of the trip was, “Dad took us to lunch at the Chicken Inn.”

                                Now that it is almost time to leave England I am finding the housework less of a
                                drudgery, Also, as it is school holiday time, Jim and Henry are able to go on walks with
                                the older children and so use up some of their surplus energy. Cath and I took the
                                children (except young George who went rabbit shooting with his uncle Reg, and
                                Henry, who stayed at home with his dad) to the Wakes at Selston, the neighbouring
                                village. There were the roundabouts and similar contraptions but the side shows had
                                more appeal for the children. Ann and Kate found a stall where assorted prizes were
                                spread out on a sloping table. Anyone who could land a penny squarely on one of
                                these objects was given a similar one as a prize.

                                I was touched to see that both girls ignored all the targets except a box of fifty
                                cigarettes which they were determined to win for me. After numerous attempts, Kate
                                landed her penny successfully and you would have loved to have seen her radiant little
                                face.

                                Eleanor.

                                Dar es Salaam 22nd October 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                Back in Tanganyika at last, but not together. We have to stay in Dar es Salaam
                                until tomorrow when the train leaves for Dodoma. We arrived yesterday morning to find
                                all the hotels filled with people waiting to board ships for England. Fortunately some
                                friends came to the rescue and Ann, Kate and John have gone to stay with them. Jim,
                                Henry and I are sleeping in a screened corner of the lounge of the New Africa Hotel, and
                                George and young George have beds in the Palm Court of the same hotel.

                                We travelled out from England in the Winchester Castle under troopship
                                conditions. We joined her at Southampton after a rather slow train journey from
                                Nottingham. We arrived after dark and from the station we could see a large ship in the
                                docks with a floodlit red funnel. “Our ship,” yelled the children in delight, but it was not the
                                Winchester Castle but the Queen Elizabeth, newly reconditioned.

                                We had hoped to board our ship that evening but George made enquiries and
                                found that we would not be allowed on board until noon next day. Without much hope,
                                we went off to try to get accommodation for eight at a small hotel recommended by the
                                taxi driver. Luckily for us there was a very motherly woman at the reception desk. She
                                looked in amusement at the six children and said to me, “Goodness are all these yours,
                                ducks? Then she called over her shoulder, “Wilf, come and see this lady with lots of
                                children. We must try to help.” They settled the problem most satisfactorily by turning
                                two rooms into a dormitory.

                                In the morning we had time to inspect bomb damage in the dock area of
                                Southampton. Most of the rubble had been cleared away but there are still numbers of
                                damaged buildings awaiting demolition. A depressing sight. We saw the Queen Mary
                                at anchor, still in her drab war time paint, but magnificent nevertheless.
                                The Winchester Castle was crammed with passengers and many travelled in
                                acute discomfort. We were luckier than most because the two girls, the three small boys
                                and I had a stateroom to ourselves and though it was stripped of peacetime comforts,
                                we had a private bathroom and toilet. The two Georges had bunks in a huge men-only
                                dormitory somewhere in the bowls of the ship where they had to share communal troop
                                ship facilities. The food was plentiful but unexciting and one had to queue for afternoon
                                tea. During the day the decks were crowded and there was squatting room only. The
                                many children on board got bored.

                                Port Said provided a break and we were all entertained by the ‘Gully Gully’ man
                                and his conjuring tricks, and though we had no money to spend at Simon Artz, we did at
                                least have a chance to stretch our legs. Next day scores of passengers took ill with
                                sever stomach upsets, whether from food poisoning, or as was rumoured, from bad
                                water taken on at the Egyptian port, I don’t know. Only the two Georges in our family
                                were affected and their attacks were comparatively mild.

                                As we neared the Kenya port of Mombassa, the passengers for Dar es Salaam
                                were told that they would have to disembark at Mombassa and continue their journey in
                                a small coaster, the Al Said. The Winchester Castle is too big for the narrow channel
                                which leads to Dar es Salaam harbour.

                                From the wharf the Al Said looked beautiful. She was once the private yacht of
                                the Sultan of Zanzibar and has lovely lines. Our admiration lasted only until we were
                                shown our cabins. With one voice our children exclaimed, “Gosh they stink!” They did, of
                                a mixture of rancid oil and sweat and stale urine. The beds were not yet made and the
                                thin mattresses had ominous stains on them. John, ever fastidious, lifted his mattress and two enormous cockroaches scuttled for cover.

                                We had a good homely lunch served by two smiling African stewards and
                                afterwards we sat on deck and that was fine too, though behind ones enjoyment there
                                was the thought of those stuffy and dirty cabins. That first night nearly everyone,
                                including George and our older children, slept on deck. Women occupied deck chairs
                                and men and children slept on the bare decks. Horrifying though the idea was, I decided
                                that, as Jim had a bad cough, he, Henry and I would sleep in our cabin.

                                When I announced my intention of sleeping in the cabin one of the passengers
                                gave me some insecticide spray which I used lavishly, but without avail. The children
                                slept but I sat up all night with the light on, determined to keep at least their pillows clear
                                of the cockroaches which scurried about boldly regardless of the light. All the next day
                                and night we avoided the cabins. The Al Said stopped for some hours at Zanzibar to
                                offload her deck cargo of live cattle and packing cases from the hold. George and the
                                elder children went ashore for a walk but I felt too lazy and there was plenty to watch
                                from deck.

                                That night I too occupied a deck chair and slept quite comfortably, and next
                                morning we entered the palm fringed harbour of Dar es Salaam and were home.

                                Eleanor.

                                Mbeya 1st November 1946

                                Dearest Family.

                                Home at last! We are all most happily installed in a real family house about three
                                miles out of Mbeya and near the school. This house belongs to an elderly German and
                                has been taken over by the Custodian of Enemy Property and leased to the
                                Government.

                                The owner, whose name is Shenkel, was not interned but is allowed to occupy a
                                smaller house on the Estate. I found him in the garden this morning lecturing the children
                                on what they may do and may not do. I tried to make it quite clear to him that he was not
                                our landlord, though he clearly thinks otherwise. After he had gone I had to take two
                                aspirin and lie down to recover my composure! I had been warned that he has this effect
                                on people.

                                Mr Shenkel is a short and ugly man, his clothes are stained with food and he
                                wears steel rimmed glasses tied round his head with a piece of dirty elastic because
                                one earpiece is missing. He speaks with a thick German accent but his English is fluent
                                and I believe he is a cultured and clever man. But he is maddening. The children were
                                more amused than impressed by his exhortations and have happily Christened our
                                home, ‘Old Shenks’.

                                The house has very large grounds as the place is really a derelict farm. It suits us
                                down to the ground. We had no sooner unpacked than George went off on safari after
                                those maneating lions in the Njombe District. he accounted for one, and a further two
                                jointly with a Game Scout, before we left for England. But none was shot during the five
                                months we were away as George’s relief is quite inexperienced in such work. George
                                thinks that there are still about a dozen maneaters at large. His theory is that a female
                                maneater moved into the area in 1938 when maneating first started, and brought up her
                                cubs to be maneaters, and those cubs in turn did the same. The three maneating lions
                                that have been shot were all in very good condition and not old and maimed as
                                maneaters usually are.

                                George anticipates that it will be months before all these lions are accounted for
                                because they are constantly on the move and cover a very large area. The lions have to
                                be hunted on foot because they range over broken country covered by bush and fairly
                                dense thicket.

                                I did a bit of shooting myself yesterday and impressed our African servants and
                                the children and myself. What a fluke! Our houseboy came to say that there was a snake
                                in the garden, the biggest he had ever seen. He said it was too big to kill with a stick and
                                would I shoot it. I had no gun but a heavy .450 Webley revolver and I took this and
                                hurried out with the children at my heels.

                                The snake turned out to be an unusually large puff adder which had just shed its
                                skin. It looked beautiful in a repulsive way. So flanked by servants and children I took
                                aim and shot, not hitting the head as I had planned, but breaking the snake’s back with
                                the heavy bullet. The two native boys then rushed up with sticks and flattened the head.
                                “Ma you’re a crack shot,” cried the kids in delighted surprise. I hope to rest on my laurels
                                for a long, long while.

                                Although there are only a few weeks of school term left the four older children will
                                start school on Monday. Not only am I pleased with our new home here but also with
                                the staff I have engaged. Our new houseboy, Reuben, (but renamed Robin by our
                                children) is not only cheerful and willing but intelligent too, and Jumbe, the wood and
                                garden boy, is a born clown and a source of great entertainment to the children.

                                I feel sure that we are all going to be very happy here at ‘Old Shenks!.

                                Eleanor.

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