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  • #7261
    TracyTracy
    Participant

       

      Long Lost Enoch Edwards

       

      Enoch Edwards

       

      My father used to mention long lost Enoch Edwards. Nobody in the family knew where he went to and it was assumed that he went to USA, perhaps to Utah to join his sister Sophie who was a Mormon handcart pioneer, but no record of him was found in USA.

      Andrew Enoch Edwards (my great great grandfather) was born in 1840, but was (almost) always known as Enoch. Although civil registration of births had started from 1 July 1837, neither Enoch nor his brother Stephen were registered. Enoch was baptised (as Andrew) on the same day as his brothers Reuben and Stephen in May 1843 at St Chad’s Catholic cathedral in Birmingham. It’s a mystery why these three brothers were baptised Catholic, as there are no other Catholic records for this family before or since. One possible theory is that there was a school attached to the church on Shadwell Street, and a Catholic baptism was required for the boys to go to the school. Enoch’s father John died of TB in 1844, and perhaps in 1843 he knew he was dying and wanted to ensure an education for his sons. The building of St Chads was completed in 1841, and it was close to where they lived.

      Enoch appears (as Enoch rather than Andrew) on the 1841 census, six months old. The family were living at Unett Street in Birmingham: John and Sarah and children Mariah, Sophia, Matilda, a mysterious entry transcribed as Lene, a daughter, that I have been unable to find anywhere else, and Reuben and Stephen.

      Enoch was just four years old when his father John, an engineer and millwright, died of consumption in 1844.

      In 1851 Enoch’s widowed mother Sarah was a mangler living on Summer Street, Birmingham, Matilda a dressmaker, Reuben and Stephen were gun percussionists, and eleven year old Enoch was an errand boy.

      On the 1861 census, Sarah was a confectionrer on Canal Street in Birmingham, Stephen was a blacksmith, and Enoch a button tool maker.

      On the 10th November 1867 Enoch married Emelia Parker, daughter of jeweller and rope maker Edward Parker, at St Philip in Birmingham. Both Emelia and Enoch were able to sign their own names, and Matilda and Edwin Eddington were witnesses (Enoch’s sister and her husband). Enoch’s address was Church Street, and his occupation button tool maker.

      1867 Enoch Edwards

       

      Four years later in 1871, Enoch was a publican living on Clifton Road. Son Enoch Henry was two years old, and Ralph Ernest was three months. Eliza Barton lived with them as a general servant.

      By 1881 Enoch was back working as a button tool maker in Bournebrook, Birmingham. Enoch and Emilia by then had three more children, Amelia, Albert Parker (my great grandfather) and Ada.

      Garnet Frederick Edwards was born in 1882. This is the first instance of the name Garnet in the family, and subsequently Garnet has been the middle name for the eldest son (my brother, father and grandfather all have Garnet as a middle name).

      Enoch was the licensed victualler at the Pack Horse Hotel in 1991 at Kings Norton. By this time, only daughters Amelia and Ada and son Garnet are living at home.

      Pack Horse Hotel

       

       

      Additional information from my fathers cousin, Paul Weaver:

      “Enoch refused to allow his son Albert Parker to go to King Edwards School in Birmingham, where he had been awarded a place. Instead, in October 1890 he made Albert Parker Edwards take an apprenticeship with a pawnboker in Tipton.
      Towards the end of the 19th century Enoch kept The Pack Horse in Alcester Road, Hollywood, where a twist was 1d an ounce, and beer was 2d a pint. The children had to get up early to get breakfast at 6 o’clock for the hay and straw men on their way to the Birmingham hay and straw market. Enoch is listed as a member of “The Kingswood & Pack Horse Association for the Prosecution of Offenders”, a kind of early Neighbourhood Watch, dated 25 October 1890.
      The Edwards family later moved to Redditch where they kept The Rifleman Inn at 35 Park Road. They must have left the Pack Horse by 1895 as another publican was in place by then.”

      Emelia his wife died in 1895 of consumption at the Rifleman Inn in Redditch, Worcestershire, and in 1897 Enoch married Florence Ethel Hedges in Aston. Enoch was 56 and Florence was just 21 years old.

      1897 Enoch Edwards

       

      The following year in 1898 their daughter Muriel Constance Freda Edwards was born in Deritend, Warwickshire.
      In 1901 Enoch, (Andrew on the census), publican, Florence and Muriel were living in Dudley. It was hard to find where he went after this.

      From Paul Weaver:

      “Family accounts have it that Enoch EDWARDS fell out with all his family, and at about the age of 60, he left all behind and emigrated to the U.S.A. Enoch was described as being an active man, and it is believed that he had another family when he settled in the U.S.A. Esmor STOKES has it that a postcard was received by the family from Enoch at Niagara Falls.

      On 11 June 1902 Harry Wright (the local postmaster responsible in those days for licensing) brought an Enoch EDWARDS to the Bedfordshire Petty Sessions in Biggleswade regarding “Hole in the Wall”, believed to refer to the now defunct “Hole in the Wall” public house at 76 Shortmead Street, Biggleswade with Enoch being granted “temporary authority”. On 9 July 1902 the transfer was granted. A year later in the 1903 edition of Kelly’s Directory of Bedfordshire, Hunts and Northamptonshire there is an Enoch EDWARDS running the Wheatsheaf Public House, Church Street, St. Neots, Huntingdonshire which is 14 miles south of Biggleswade.”

      It seems that Enoch and his new family moved away from the midlands in the early 1900s, but again the trail went cold.

      When I started doing the genealogy research, I joined a local facebook group for Redditch in Worcestershire. Enoch’s son Albert Parker Edwards (my great grandfather) spent most of his life there. I asked in the group about Enoch, and someone posted an illustrated advertisement for Enoch’s dog powders.  Enoch was a well known breeder/keeper of St Bernards and is cited in a book naming individuals key to the recovery/establishment of ‘mastiff’ size dog breeds.

       

      We had not known that Enoch was a breeder of champion St Bernard dogs!

      Once I knew about the St Bernard dogs and the names Mount Leo and Plinlimmon via the newspaper adverts, I did an internet search on Enoch Edwards in conjunction with these dogs.

      Enoch’s St Bernard dog “Mount Leo” was bred from the famous Plinlimmon, “the Emperor of Saint Bernards”. He was reported to have sent two puppies to Omaha and one of his stud dogs to America for a season, and in 1897 Enoch made the news for selling a St Bernard to someone in New York for £200. Plinlimmon, bred by Thomas Hall, was born in Liverpool, England on June 29, 1883. He won numerous dog shows throughout Europe in 1884, and in 1885, he was named Best Saint Bernard.

      In the Birmingham Mail on 14th June 1890:

      “Mr E Edwards, of Bournebrook, has been well to the fore with his dogs of late. He has gained nine honours during the past fortnight, including a first at the Pontypridd show with a St Bernard dog, The Speaker, a son of Plinlimmon.”

      In the Alcester Chronicle on Saturday 05 June 1897:

      Enoch St Bernards

      Enoch press releases

       

      It was discovered that Enoch, Florence and Muriel moved to Canada, not USA as the family had assumed. The 1911 census for Montreal St Jaqcues, Quebec, stated that Enoch, (Florence) Ethel, and (Muriel) Frida had emigrated in 1906. Enoch’s occupation was machinist in 1911. The census transcription is not very good. Edwards was transcribed as Edmand, but the dates of birth for all three are correct. Birthplace is correct ~ A for Anglitan (the census is in French) but race or tribe is also an A but the transcribers have put African black! Enoch by this time was 71 years old, his wife 33 and daughter 11.

      Additional information from Paul Weaver:

      “In 1906 he and his new family travelled to Canada with Enoch travelling first and Ethel and Frida joined him in Quebec on 25 June 1906 on board the ‘Canada’ from Liverpool.
      Their immigration record suggests that they were planning to travel to Winnipeg, but five years later in 1911, Enoch, Florence Ethel and Frida were still living in St James, Montreal. Enoch was employed as a machinist by Canadian Government Railways working 50 hours. It is the 1911 census record that confirms his birth as November 1840. It also states that Enoch could neither read nor write but managed to earn $500 in 1910 for activity other than his main profession, although this may be referring to his innkeeping business interests.
      By 1921 Florence and Muriel Frida are living in Langford, Neepawa, Manitoba with Peter FUCHS, an Ontarian farmer of German descent who Florence had married on 24 Jul 1913 implying that Enoch died sometime in 1911/12, although no record has been found.”

      The extra $500 in earnings was perhaps related to the St Bernard dogs.  Enoch signed his name on the register on his marriage to Emelia, and I think it’s very unlikely that he could neither read nor write, as stated above.

      However, it may not be Enoch’s wife Florence Ethel who married Peter Fuchs.  A Florence Emma Edwards married Peter Fuchs,  and on the 1921 census in Neepawa her daugther Muriel Elizabeth Edwards, born in 1902, lives with them.  Quite a coincidence, two Florence and Muriel Edwards in Neepawa at the time.  Muriel Elizabeth Edwards married and had two children but died at the age of 23 in 1925.  Her mother Florence was living with the widowed husband and the two children on the 1931 census in Neepawa.  As there was no other daughter on the 1911 census with Enoch, Florence and Muriel in Montreal, it must be a different Florence and daughter.  We don’t know, though, why Muriel Constance Freda married in Neepawa.

      Indeed, Florence was not a widow in 1913.  Enoch died in 1924 in Montreal, aged 84.  Neither Enoch, Florence or their daughter has been found yet on the 1921 census. The search is not easy, as Enoch sometimes used the name Andrew, Florence used her middle name Ethel, and daughter Muriel used Freda, Valerie (the name she added when she married in Neepawa), and died as Marcheta.   The only name she NEVER used was Constance!

      A Canadian genealogist living in Montreal phoned the cemetery where Enoch was buried. She said “Enoch Edwards who died on Feb 27 1924  is not buried in the Mount Royal cemetery, he was only cremated there on March 4, 1924. There are no burial records but he died of an abcess and his body was sent to the cemetery for cremation from the Royal Victoria Hospital.”

       

      1924 Obituary for Enoch Edwards:

      Cimetière Mont-Royal Outremont, Montreal Region, Quebec, Canada

      The Montreal Star 29 Feb 1924, Fri · Page 31

      1924 death Enoch Edwards

       

      Muriel Constance Freda Valerie Edwards married Arthur Frederick Morris on 24 Oct 1925 in Neepawa, Manitoba. (She appears to have added the name Valerie when she married.)

      Unexpectedly a death certificate appeared for Muriel via the hints on the ancestry website. Her name was “Marcheta Morris” on this document, however it also states that she was the widow of Arthur Frederick Morris and daughter of Andrew E Edwards and Florence Ethel Hedges. She died suddenly in June 1948 in Flos, Simcoe, Ontario of a coronary thrombosis, where she was living as a housekeeper.

      Marcheta Morris

      #6273
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The Housley Letters
        THE NEIGHBORHOOD

         

        From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

        In July 1872, Joseph wrote to George who had been gone for 21 years: “You would not know Heanor now. It has got such a large place. They have got a town hall built where Charles’ stone yard was.”

        Then Joseph took George on a tour from Smalley to Heanor pointing out all the changes:

        Smalley Map

        Smalley Farms

         

        “Now we commence at Firby Brook. There is no public house there. It is turned into a market gardener’s place. Morley smithy stands as it did. You would know Chris Shepperd that used to keep the farm opposite. He is dead and the farm is got into other hands.”  (In 1851, Chris Shepherd, age 39, and his widowed mother, Mary, had a farm of 114 acres. Charles Carrington, age 14, worked for them as a “cow boy.” In 1851 Hollingsworths also lived at Morely smithy.) “The Rose and Crown stands and Antony Kerry keeps that yet.”  (In 1851, the census listed Kerry as a mason, builder, victicular, and farmer. He lived with his wife and four sons and numerous servants.) “They have pulled down Samuel Kerry’s farm house down and built him one in another place. Now we come to the Bell that was but they have pulled the old one down and made Isaac Potters House into the new Bell.” (In 1851, The Bell was run by Ann Weston, a widow.)

        Smalley Roundhouse:

        Smalley Roundhouse

         

        “The old Round House is standing yet but they have took the machine away. The Public House at the top end is kept by Mrs. Turton. I don’t know who she was before she married. Now we get to old Tom Oldknow. The old house is pulled down and a new one is put up but it is gone out of the family altogether. Now Jack is living at Stanley. He married Ann that used to live at Barbers at Smalley. That finishes Smalley. Now for Taghill. The old Jolly Collier is standing yet and a man of the name of Remmington keeps the new one opposite. Jack Foulkes son Jack used to keep that but has left just lately. There is the Nottingham House, Nags Head, Cross Keys and then the Red Lion but houses built on both sides all the way down Taghill. Then we get to the town hall that is built on the ground that Charles’ Stone Yard used to be. There is Joseph Watson’s shop standing yet in the old place. The King of Prussia, the White Lion and Hanks that is the Public House. You see there are more than there used to be. The Magistrate sits at the Town Hall and tries cases there every fortnight.”

        .

        #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

          #6266
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            From Tanganyika with Love

            continued part 7

            With thanks to Mike Rushby.

            Oldeani Hospital. 19th September 1938

            Dearest Family,

            George arrived today to take us home to Mbulu but Sister Marianne will not allow
            me to travel for another week as I had a bit of a set back after baby’s birth. At first I was
            very fit and on the third day Sister stripped the bed and, dictionary in hand, started me
            off on ante natal exercises. “Now make a bridge Mrs Rushby. So. Up down, up down,’
            whilst I obediently hoisted myself aloft on heels and head. By the sixth day she
            considered it was time for me to be up and about but alas, I soon had to return to bed
            with a temperature and a haemorrhage. I got up and walked outside for the first time this
            morning.

            I have had lots of visitors because the local German settlers seem keen to see
            the first British baby born in the hospital. They have been most kind, sending flowers
            and little German cards of congratulations festooned with cherubs and rather sweet. Most
            of the women, besides being pleasant, are very smart indeed, shattering my illusion that
            German matrons are invariably fat and dowdy. They are all much concerned about the
            Czecko-Slovakian situation, especially Sister Marianne whose home is right on the
            border and has several relations who are Sudentan Germans. She is ant-Nazi and
            keeps on asking me whether I think England will declare war if Hitler invades Czecko-
            Slovakia, as though I had inside information.

            George tells me that he has had a grass ‘banda’ put up for us at Mbulu as we are
            both determined not to return to those prison-like quarters in the Fort. Sister Marianne is
            horrified at the idea of taking a new baby to live in a grass hut. She told George,
            “No,No,Mr Rushby. I find that is not to be allowed!” She is an excellent Sister but rather
            prim and George enjoys teasing her. This morning he asked with mock seriousness,
            “Sister, why has my wife not received her medal?” Sister fluttered her dictionary before
            asking. “What medal Mr Rushby”. “Why,” said George, “The medal that Hitler gives to
            women who have borne four children.” Sister started a long and involved explanation
            about the medal being only for German mothers whilst George looked at me and
            grinned.

            Later. Great Jubilation here. By the noise in Sister Marianne’s sitting room last night it
            sounded as though the whole German population had gathered to listen to the wireless
            news. I heard loud exclamations of joy and then my bedroom door burst open and
            several women rushed in. “Thank God “, they cried, “for Neville Chamberlain. Now there
            will be no war.” They pumped me by the hand as though I were personally responsible
            for the whole thing.

            George on the other hand is disgusted by Chamberlain’s lack of guts. Doesn’t
            know what England is coming to these days. I feel too content to concern myself with
            world affairs. I have a fine husband and four wonderful children and am happy, happy,
            happy.

            Eleanor.

            Mbulu. 30th September 1938

            Dearest Family,

            Here we are, comfortably installed in our little green house made of poles and
            rushes from a nearby swamp. The house has of course, no doors or windows, but
            there are rush blinds which roll up in the day time. There are two rooms and a little porch
            and out at the back there is a small grass kitchen.

            Here we have the privacy which we prize so highly as we are screened on one
            side by a Forest Department plantation and on the other three sides there is nothing but
            the rolling countryside cropped bare by the far too large herds of cattle and goats of the
            Wambulu. I have a lovely lazy time. I still have Kesho-Kutwa and the cook we brought
            with us from the farm. They are both faithful and willing souls though not very good at
            their respective jobs. As one of these Mbeya boys goes on safari with George whose
            job takes him from home for three weeks out of four, I have taken on a local boy to cut
            firewood and heat my bath water and generally make himself useful. His name is Saa,
            which means ‘Clock’

            We had an uneventful but very dusty trip from Oldeani. Johnny Jo travelled in his
            pram in the back of the boxbody and got covered in dust but seems none the worst for
            it. As the baby now takes up much of my time and Kate was showing signs of
            boredom, I have engaged a little African girl to come and play with Kate every morning.
            She is the daughter of the head police Askari and a very attractive and dignified little
            person she is. Her name is Kajyah. She is scrupulously clean, as all Mohammedan
            Africans seem to be. Alas, Kajyah, though beautiful, is a bore. She simply does not
            know how to play, so they just wander around hand in hand.

            There are only two drawbacks to this little house. Mbulu is a very windy spot so
            our little reed house is very draughty. I have made a little tent of sheets in one corner of
            the ‘bedroom’ into which I can retire with Johnny when I wish to bathe or sponge him.
            The other drawback is that many insects are attracted at night by the lamp and make it
            almost impossible to read or sew and they have a revolting habit of falling into the soup.
            There are no dangerous wild animals in this area so I am not at all nervous in this
            flimsy little house when George is on safari. Most nights hyaenas come around looking
            for scraps but our dogs, Fanny and Paddy, soon see them off.

            Eleanor.

            Mbulu. 25th October 1938

            Dearest Family,

            Great news! a vacancy has occurred in the Game Department. George is to
            transfer to it next month. There will be an increase in salary and a brighter prospect for
            the future. It will mean a change of scene and I shall be glad of that. We like Mbulu and
            the people here but the rains have started and our little reed hut is anything but water
            tight.

            Before the rain came we had very unpleasant dust storms. I think I told you that
            this is a treeless area and the grass which normally covers the veldt has been cropped
            to the roots by the hungry native cattle and goats. When the wind blows the dust
            collects in tall black columns which sweep across the country in a most spectacular
            fashion. One such dust devil struck our hut one day whilst we were at lunch. George
            swept Kate up in a second and held her face against his chest whilst I rushed to Johnny
            Jo who was asleep in his pram, and stooped over the pram to protect him. The hut
            groaned and creaked and clouds of dust blew in through the windows and walls covering
            our persons, food, and belongings in a black pall. The dogs food bowls and an empty
            petrol tin outside the hut were whirled up and away. It was all over in a moment but you
            should have seen what a family of sweeps we looked. George looked at our blackened
            Johnny and mimicked in Sister Marianne’s primmest tones, “I find that this is not to be
            allowed.”

            The first rain storm caught me unprepared when George was away on safari. It
            was a terrific thunderstorm. The quite violent thunder and lightening were followed by a
            real tropical downpour. As the hut is on a slight slope, the storm water poured through
            the hut like a river, covering the entire floor, and the roof leaked like a lawn sprinkler.
            Johnny Jo was snug enough in the pram with the hood raised, but Kate and I had a
            damp miserable night. Next morning I had deep drains dug around the hut and when
            George returned from safari he managed to borrow an enormous tarpaulin which is now
            lashed down over the roof.

            It did not rain during the next few days George was home but the very next night
            we were in trouble again. I was awakened by screams from Kate and hurriedly turned up
            the lamp to see that we were in the midst of an invasion of siafu ants. Kate’s bed was
            covered in them. Others appeared to be raining down from the thatch. I quickly stripped
            Kate and carried her across to my bed, whilst I rushed to the pram to see whether
            Johnny Jo was all right. He was fast asleep, bless him, and slept on through all the
            commotion, whilst I struggled to pick all the ants out of Kate’s hair, stopping now and
            again to attend to my own discomfort. These ants have a painful bite and seem to
            choose all the most tender spots. Kate fell asleep eventually but I sat up for the rest of
            the night to make sure that the siafu kept clear of the children. Next morning the servants
            dispersed them by laying hot ash.

            In spite of the dampness of the hut both children are blooming. Kate has rosy
            cheeks and Johnny Jo now has a fuzz of fair hair and has lost his ‘old man’ look. He
            reminds me of Ann at his age.

            Eleanor.

            Iringa. 30th November 1938

            Dearest Family,

            Here we are back in the Southern Highlands and installed on the second floor of
            another German Fort. This one has been modernised however and though not so
            romantic as the Mbulu Fort from the outside, it is much more comfortable.We are all well
            and I am really proud of our two safari babies who stood up splendidly to a most trying
            journey North from Mbulu to Arusha and then South down the Great North Road to
            Iringa where we expect to stay for a month.

            At Arusha George reported to the headquarters of the Game Department and
            was instructed to come on down here on Rinderpest Control. There is a great flap on in
            case the rinderpest spread to Northern Rhodesia and possibly onwards to Southern
            Rhodesia and South Africa. Extra veterinary officers have been sent to this area to
            inoculate all the cattle against the disease whilst George and his African game Scouts will
            comb the bush looking for and destroying diseased game. If the rinderpest spreads,
            George says it may be necessary to shoot out all the game in a wide belt along the
            border between the Southern Highlands of Tanganyika and Northern Rhodesia, to
            prevent the disease spreading South. The very idea of all this destruction sickens us
            both.

            George left on a foot safari the day after our arrival and I expect I shall be lucky if I
            see him occasionally at weekends until this job is over. When rinderpest is under control
            George is to be stationed at a place called Nzassa in the Eastern Province about 18
            miles from Dar es Salaam. George’s orderly, who is a tall, cheerful Game Scout called
            Juma, tells me that he has been stationed at Nzassa and it is a frightful place! However I
            refuse to be depressed. I now have the cheering prospect of leave to England in thirty
            months time when we will be able to fetch Ann and George and be a proper family
            again. Both Ann and George look happy in the snapshots which mother-in-law sends
            frequently. Ann is doing very well at school and loves it.

            To get back to our journey from Mbulu. It really was quite an experience. It
            poured with rain most of the way and the road was very slippery and treacherous the
            120 miles between Mbulu and Arusha. This is a little used earth road and the drains are
            so blocked with silt as to be practically non existent. As usual we started our move with
            the V8 loaded to capacity. I held Johnny on my knee and Kate squeezed in between
            George and me. All our goods and chattels were in wooden boxes stowed in the back
            and the two houseboys and the two dogs had to adjust themselves to the space that
            remained. We soon ran into trouble and it took us all day to travel 47 miles. We stuck
            several times in deep mud and had some most nasty skids. I simply clutched Kate in
            one hand and Johnny Jo in the other and put my trust in George who never, under any
            circumstances, loses his head. Poor Johnny only got his meals when circumstances
            permitted. Unfortunately I had put him on a bottle only a few days before we left Mbulu
            and, as I was unable to buy either a primus stove or Thermos flask there we had to
            make a fire and boil water for each meal. Twice George sat out in the drizzle with a rain
            coat rapped over his head to protect a miserable little fire of wet sticks drenched with
            paraffin. Whilst we waited for the water to boil I pacified John by letting him suck a cube
            of Tate and Lyles sugar held between my rather grubby fingers. Not at all according to
            the book.

            That night George, the children and I slept in the car having dumped our boxes
            and the two servants in a deserted native hut. The rain poured down relentlessly all night
            and by morning the road was more of a morass than ever. We swerved and skidded
            alarmingly till eventually one of the wheel chains broke and had to be tied together with
            string which constantly needed replacing. George was so patient though he was wet
            and muddy and tired and both children were very good. Shortly before reaching the Great North Road we came upon Jack Gowan, the Stock Inspector from Mbulu. His car
            was bogged down to its axles in black mud. He refused George’s offer of help saying
            that he had sent his messenger to a nearby village for help.

            I hoped that conditions would be better on the Great North Road but how over
            optimistic I was. For miles the road runs through a belt of ‘black cotton soil’. which was
            churned up into the consistency of chocolate blancmange by the heavy lorry traffic which
            runs between Dodoma and Arusha. Soon the car was skidding more fantastically than
            ever. Once it skidded around in a complete semi circle so George decided that it would
            be safer for us all to walk whilst he negotiated the very bad patches. You should have
            seen me plodding along in the mud and drizzle with the baby in one arm and Kate
            clinging to the other. I was terrified of slipping with Johnny. Each time George reached
            firm ground he would return on foot to carry Kate and in this way we covered many bad
            patches.We were more fortunate than many other travellers. We passed several lorries
            ditched on the side of the road and one car load of German men, all elegantly dressed in
            lounge suits. One was busy with his camera so will have a record of their plight to laugh
            over in the years to come. We spent another night camping on the road and next day
            set out on the last lap of the journey. That also was tiresome but much better than the
            previous day and we made the haven of the Arusha Hotel before dark. What a picture
            we made as we walked through the hall in our mud splattered clothes! Even Johnny was
            well splashed with mud but no harm was done and both he and Kate are blooming.
            We rested for two days at Arusha and then came South to Iringa. Luckily the sun
            came out and though for the first day the road was muddy it was no longer so slippery
            and the second day found us driving through parched country and along badly
            corrugated roads. The further South we came, the warmer the sun which at times blazed
            through the windscreen and made us all uncomfortably hot. I have described the country
            between Arusha and Dodoma before so I shan’t do it again. We reached Iringa without
            mishap and after a good nights rest all felt full of beans.

            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate, Mbeya. 7th January 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            You will be surprised to note that we are back on the farm! At least the children
            and I are here. George is away near the Rhodesian border somewhere, still on
            Rinderpest control.

            I had a pleasant time at Iringa, lots of invitations to morning tea and Kate had a
            wonderful time enjoying the novelty of playing with children of her own age. She is not
            shy but nevertheless likes me to be within call if not within sight. It was all very suburban
            but pleasant enough. A few days before Christmas George turned up at Iringa and
            suggested that, as he would be working in the Mbeya area, it might be a good idea for
            the children and me to move to the farm. I agreed enthusiastically, completely forgetting
            that after my previous trouble with the leopard I had vowed to myself that I would never
            again live alone on the farm.

            Alas no sooner had we arrived when Thomas, our farm headman, brought the
            news that there were now two leopards terrorising the neighbourhood, and taking dogs,
            goats and sheep and chickens. Traps and poisoned bait had been tried in vain and he
            was sure that the female was the same leopard which had besieged our home before.
            Other leopards said Thomas, came by stealth but this one advertised her whereabouts
            in the most brazen manner.

            George stayed with us on the farm over Christmas and all was quiet at night so I
            cheered up and took the children for walks along the overgrown farm paths. However on
            New Years Eve that darned leopard advertised her presence again with the most blood
            chilling grunts and snarls. Horrible! Fanny and Paddy barked and growled and woke up
            both children. Kate wept and kept saying, “Send it away mummy. I don’t like it.” Johnny
            Jo howled in sympathy. What a picnic. So now the whole performance of bodyguards
            has started again and ‘till George returns we confine our exercise to the garden.
            Our little house is still cosy and sweet but the coffee plantation looks very
            neglected. I wish to goodness we could sell it.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 14th February 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            After three months of moving around with two small children it is heavenly to be
            settled in our own home, even though Nzassa is an isolated spot and has the reputation
            of being unhealthy.

            We travelled by car from Mbeya to Dodoma by now a very familiar stretch of
            country, but from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam by train which made a nice change. We
            spent two nights and a day in the Splendid Hotel in Dar es Salaam, George had some
            official visits to make and I did some shopping and we took the children to the beach.
            The bay is so sheltered that the sea is as calm as a pond and the water warm. It is
            wonderful to see the sea once more and to hear tugs hooting and to watch the Arab
            dhows putting out to sea with their oddly shaped sails billowing. I do love the bush, but
            I love the sea best of all, as you know.

            We made an early start for Nzassa on the 3rd. For about four miles we bowled
            along a good road. This brought us to a place called Temeke where George called on
            the District Officer. His house appears to be the only European type house there. The
            road between Temeke and the turn off to Nzassa is quite good, but the six mile stretch
            from the turn off to Nzassa is a very neglected bush road. There is nothing to be seen
            but the impenetrable bush on both sides with here and there a patch of swampy
            ground where rice is planted in the wet season.

            After about six miles of bumpy road we reached Nzassa which is nothing more
            than a sandy clearing in the bush. Our house however is a fine one. It was originally built
            for the District Officer and there is a small court house which is now George’s office. The
            District Officer died of blackwater fever so Nzassa was abandoned as an administrative
            station being considered too unhealthy for Administrative Officers but suitable as
            Headquarters for a Game Ranger. Later a bachelor Game Ranger was stationed here
            but his health also broke down and he has been invalided to England. So now the
            healthy Rushbys are here and we don’t mean to let the place get us down. So don’t
            worry.

            The house consists of three very large and airy rooms with their doors opening
            on to a wide front verandah which we shall use as a living room. There is also a wide
            back verandah with a store room at one end and a bathroom at the other. Both
            verandahs and the end windows of the house are screened my mosquito gauze wire
            and further protected by a trellis work of heavy expanded metal. Hasmani, the Game
            Scout, who has been acting as caretaker, tells me that the expanded metal is very
            necessary because lions often come out of the bush at night and roam around the
            house. Such a comforting thought!

            On our very first evening we discovered how necessary the mosquito gauze is.
            After sunset the air outside is thick with mosquitos from the swamps. About an acre of
            land has been cleared around the house. This is a sandy waste because there is no
            water laid on here and absolutely nothing grows here except a rather revolting milky
            desert bush called ‘Manyara’, and a few acacia trees. A little way from the house there is
            a patch of citrus trees, grape fruit, I think, but whether they ever bear fruit I don’t know.
            The clearing is bordered on three sides by dense dusty thorn bush which is
            ‘lousy with buffalo’ according to George. The open side is the road which leads down to
            George’s office and the huts for the Game Scouts. Only Hasmani and George’s orderly
            Juma and their wives and families live there, and the other huts provide shelter for the
            Game Scouts from the bush who come to Nzassa to collect their pay and for a short
            rest. I can see that my daily walk will always be the same, down the road to the huts and
            back! However I don’t mind because it is far too hot to take much exercise.

            The climate here is really tropical and worse than on the coast because the thick
            bush cuts us off from any sea breeze. George says it will be cooler when the rains start
            but just now we literally drip all day. Kate wears nothing but a cotton sun suit, and Johnny
            a napkin only, but still their little bodies are always moist. I have shorn off all Kate’s lovely
            shoulder length curls and got George to cut my hair very short too.

            We simply must buy a refrigerator. The butter, and even the cheese we bought
            in Dar. simply melted into pools of oil overnight, and all our meat went bad, so we are
            living out of tins. However once we get organised I shall be quite happy here. I like this
            spacious house and I have good servants. The cook, Hamisi Issa, is a Swahili from Lindi
            whom we engaged in Dar es Salaam. He is a very dignified person, and like most
            devout Mohammedan Cooks, keeps both his person and the kitchen spotless. I
            engaged the house boy here. He is rather a timid little body but is very willing and quite
            capable. He has an excessively plain but cheerful wife whom I have taken on as ayah. I
            do not really need help with the children but feel I must have a woman around just in
            case I go down with malaria when George is away on safari.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 28th February 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            George’s birthday and we had a special tea party this afternoon which the
            children much enjoyed. We have our frig now so I am able to make jellies and provide
            them with really cool drinks.

            Our very first visitor left this morning after spending only one night here. He is Mr
            Ionides, the Game Ranger from the Southern Province. He acted as stand in here for a
            short while after George’s predecessor left for England on sick leave, and where he has
            since died. Mr Ionides returned here to hand over the range and office formally to
            George. He seems a strange man and is from all accounts a bit of a hermit. He was at
            one time an Officer in the Regular Army but does not look like a soldier, he wears the
            most extraordinary clothes but nevertheless contrives to look top-drawer. He was
            educated at Rugby and Sandhurst and is, I should say, well read. Ionides told us that he
            hated Nzassa, particularly the house which he thinks sinister and says he always slept
            down in the office.

            The house, or at least one bedroom, seems to have the same effect on Kate.
            She has been very nervous at night ever since we arrived. At first the children occupied
            the bedroom which is now George’s. One night, soon after our arrival, Kate woke up
            screaming to say that ‘something’ had looked at her through the mosquito net. She was
            in such a hysterical state that inspite of the heat and discomfort I was obliged to crawl into
            her little bed with her and remained there for the rest of the night.

            Next night I left a night lamp burning but even so I had to sit by her bed until she
            dropped off to sleep. Again I was awakened by ear-splitting screams and this time
            found Kate standing rigid on her bed. I lifted her out and carried her to a chair meaning to
            comfort her but she screeched louder than ever, “Look Mummy it’s under the bed. It’s
            looking at us.” In vain I pointed out that there was nothing at all there. By this time
            George had joined us and he carried Kate off to his bed in the other room whilst I got into
            Kate’s bed thinking she might have been frightened by a rat which might also disturb
            Johnny.

            Next morning our houseboy remarked that he had heard Kate screaming in the
            night from his room behind the kitchen. I explained what had happened and he must
            have told the old Scout Hasmani who waylaid me that afternoon and informed me quite
            seriously that that particular room was haunted by a ‘sheitani’ (devil) who hates children.
            He told me that whilst he was acting as caretaker before our arrival he one night had his
            wife and small daughter in the room to keep him company. He said that his small
            daughter woke up and screamed exactly as Kate had done! Silly coincidence I
            suppose, but such strange things happen in Africa that I decided to move the children
            into our room and George sleeps in solitary state in the haunted room! Kate now sleeps
            peacefully once she goes to sleep but I have to stay with her until she does.

            I like this house and it does not seem at all sinister to me. As I mentioned before,
            the rooms are high ceilinged and airy, and have cool cement floors. We have made one
            end of the enclosed verandah into the living room and the other end is the playroom for
            the children. The space in between is a sort of no-mans land taken over by the dogs as
            their special territory.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 25th March 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            George is on safari down in the Rufigi River area. He is away for about three
            weeks in the month on this job. I do hate to see him go and just manage to tick over until
            he comes back. But what fun and excitement when he does come home.
            Usually he returns after dark by which time the children are in bed and I have
            settled down on the verandah with a book. The first warning is usually given by the
            dogs, Fanny and her son Paddy. They stir, sit up, look at each other and then go and sit
            side by side by the door with their noses practically pressed to the mosquito gauze and
            ears pricked. Soon I can hear the hum of the car, and so can Hasmani, the old Game
            Scout who sleeps on the back verandah with rifle and ammunition by his side when
            George is away. When he hears the car he turns up his lamp and hurries out to rouse
            Juma, the houseboy. Juma pokes up the fire and prepares tea which George always
            drinks whist a hot meal is being prepared. In the meantime I hurriedly comb my hair and
            powder my nose so that when the car stops I am ready to rush out and welcome
            George home. The boy and Hasmani and the garden boy appear to help with the
            luggage and to greet George and the cook, who always accompanies George on
            Safari. The home coming is always a lively time with much shouting of greetings.
            ‘Jambo’, and ‘Habari ya safari’, whilst the dogs, beside themselves with excitement,
            rush around like lunatics.

            As though his return were not happiness enough, George usually collects the
            mail on his way home so there is news of Ann and young George and letters from you
            and bundles of newspapers and magazines. On the day following his return home,
            George has to deal with official mail in the office but if the following day is a weekday we
            all, the house servants as well as ourselves, pile into the boxbody and go to Dar es
            Salaam. To us this means a mornings shopping followed by an afternoon on the beach.
            It is a bit cooler now that the rains are on but still very humid. Kate keeps chubby
            and rosy in spite of the climate but Johnny is too pale though sturdy enough. He is such
            a good baby which is just as well because Kate is a very demanding little girl though
            sunny tempered and sweet. I appreciate her company very much when George is
            away because we are so far off the beaten track that no one ever calls.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 28th April 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            You all seem to wonder how I can stand the loneliness and monotony of living at
            Nzassa when George is on safari, but really and truly I do not mind. Hamisi the cook
            always goes on safari with George and then the houseboy Juma takes over the cooking
            and I do the lighter housework. the children are great company during the day, and when
            they are settled for the night I sit on the verandah and read or write letters or I just dream.
            The verandah is entirely enclosed with both wire mosquito gauze and a trellis
            work of heavy expanded metal, so I am safe from all intruders be they human, animal, or
            insect. Outside the air is alive with mosquitos and the cicadas keep up their monotonous
            singing all night long. My only companions on the verandah are the pale ghecco lizards
            on the wall and the two dogs. Fanny the white bull terrier, lies always near my feet
            dozing happily, but her son Paddy, who is half Airedale has a less phlegmatic
            disposition. He sits alert and on guard by the metal trellis work door. Often a lion grunts
            from the surrounding bush and then his hackles rise and he stands up stiffly with his nose
            pressed to the door. Old Hasmani from his bedroll on the back verandah, gives a little
            cough just to show he is awake. Sometimes the lions are very close and then I hear the
            click of a rifle bolt as Hasmani loads his rifle – but this is usually much later at night when
            the lights are out. One morning I saw large pug marks between the wall of my bedroom
            and the garage but I do not fear lions like I did that beastly leopard on the farm.
            A great deal of witchcraft is still practiced in the bush villages in the
            neighbourhood. I must tell you about old Hasmani’s baby in connection with this. Last
            week Hasmani came to me in great distress to say that his baby was ‘Ngongwa sana ‘
            (very ill) and he thought it would die. I hurried down to the Game Scouts quarters to see
            whether I could do anything for the child and found the mother squatting in the sun
            outside her hut with the baby on her lap. The mother was a young woman but not an
            attractive one. She appeared sullen and indifferent compared with old Hasmani who
            was very distressed. The child was very feverish and breathing with difficulty and
            seemed to me to be suffering from bronchitis if not pneumonia. I rubbed his back and
            chest with camphorated oil and dosed him with aspirin and liquid quinine. I repeated the
            treatment every four hours, but next day there was no apparent improvement.
            In the afternoon Hasmani begged me to give him that night off duty and asked for
            a loan of ten shillings. He explained to me that it seemed to him that the white man’s
            medicine had failed to cure his child and now he wished to take the child to the local witch
            doctor. “For ten shillings” said Hasmani, “the Maganga will drive the devil out of my
            child.” “How?” asked I. “With drums”, said Hasmani confidently. I did not know what to
            do. I thought the child was too ill to be exposed to the night air, yet I knew that if I
            refused his request and the child were to die, Hasmani and all the other locals would hold
            me responsible. I very reluctantly granted his request. I was so troubled by the matter
            that I sent for George’s office clerk. Daniel, and asked him to accompany Hasmani to the
            ceremony and to report to me the next morning. It started to rain after dark and all night
            long I lay awake in bed listening to the drums and the light rain. Next morning when I
            went out to the kitchen to order breakfast I found a beaming Hasmani awaiting me.
            “Memsahib”, he said. “My child is well, the fever is now quite gone, the Maganga drove
            out the devil just as I told you.” Believe it or not, when I hurried to his quarters after
            breakfast I found the mother suckling a perfectly healthy child! It may be my imagination
            but I thought the mother looked pretty smug.The clerk Daniel told me that after Hasmani
            had presented gifts of money and food to the ‘Maganga’, the naked baby was placed
            on a goat skin near the drums. Most of the time he just lay there but sometimes the witch
            doctor picked him up and danced with the child in his arms. Daniel seemed reluctant to
            talk about it. Whatever mumbo jumbo was used all this happened a week ago and the
            baby has never looked back.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 3rd July 1939.

            Dearest Family,

            Did I tell you that one of George’s Game Scouts was murdered last month in the
            Maneromango area towards the Rufigi border. He was on routine patrol, with a porter
            carrying his bedding and food, when they suddenly came across a group of African
            hunters who were busy cutting up a giraffe which they had just killed. These hunters were
            all armed with muzzle loaders, spears and pangas, but as it is illegal to kill giraffe without
            a permit, the Scout went up to the group to take their names. Some argument ensued
            and the Scout was stabbed.

            The District Officer went to the area to investigate and decided to call in the Police
            from Dar es Salaam. A party of police went out to search for the murderers but after
            some days returned without making any arrests. George was on an elephant control
            safari in the Bagamoyo District and on his return through Dar es Salaam he heard of the
            murder. George was furious and distressed to hear the news and called in here for an
            hour on his way to Maneromango to search for the murderers himself.

            After a great deal of strenuous investigation he arrested three poachers, put them
            in jail for the night at Maneromango and then brought them to Dar es Salaam where they
            are all now behind bars. George will now have to prosecute in the Magistrate’s Court
            and try and ‘make a case’ so that the prisoners may be committed to the High Court to
            be tried for murder. George is convinced of their guilt and justifiably proud to have
            succeeded where the police failed.

            George had to borrow handcuffs for the prisoners from the Chief at
            Maneromango and these he brought back to Nzassa after delivering the prisoners to
            Dar es Salaam so that he may return them to the Chief when he revisits the area next
            week.

            I had not seen handcuffs before and picked up a pair to examine them. I said to
            George, engrossed in ‘The Times’, “I bet if you were arrested they’d never get
            handcuffs on your wrist. Not these anyway, they look too small.” “Standard pattern,”
            said George still concentrating on the newspaper, but extending an enormous relaxed
            left wrist. So, my dears, I put a bracelet round his wrist and as there was a wide gap I
            gave a hard squeeze with both hands. There was a sharp click as the handcuff engaged
            in the first notch. George dropped the paper and said, “Now you’ve done it, my love,
            one set of keys are in the Dar es Salaam Police Station, and the others with the Chief at
            Maneromango.” You can imagine how utterly silly I felt but George was an angel about it
            and said as he would have to go to Dar es Salaam we might as well all go.

            So we all piled into the car, George, the children and I in the front, and the cook
            and houseboy, immaculate in snowy khanzus and embroidered white caps, a Game
            Scout and the ayah in the back. George never once complain of the discomfort of the
            handcuff but I was uncomfortably aware that it was much too tight because his arm
            above the cuff looked red and swollen and the hand unnaturally pale. As the road is so
            bad George had to use both hands on the wheel and all the time the dangling handcuff
            clanked against the dashboard in an accusing way.

            We drove straight to the Police Station and I could hear the roars of laughter as
            George explained his predicament. Later I had to put up with a good deal of chaffing
            and congratulations upon putting the handcuffs on George.

            Eleanor.

            Nzassa 5th August 1939

            Dearest Family,

            George made a point of being here for Kate’s fourth birthday last week. Just
            because our children have no playmates George and I always do all we can to make
            birthdays very special occasions. We went to Dar es Salaam the day before the
            birthday and bought Kate a very sturdy tricycle with which she is absolutely delighted.
            You will be glad to know that your parcels arrived just in time and Kate loved all your
            gifts especially the little shop from Dad with all the miniature tins and packets of
            groceries. The tea set was also a great success and is much in use.

            We had a lively party which ended with George and me singing ‘Happy
            Birthday to you’, and ended with a wild game with balloons. Kate wore her frilly white net
            party frock and looked so pretty that it seemed a shame that there was no one but us to
            see her. Anyway it was a good party. I wish so much that you could see the children.
            Kate keeps rosy and has not yet had malaria. Johnny Jo is sturdy but pale. He
            runs a temperature now and again but I am not sure whether this is due to teething or
            malaria. Both children of course take quinine every day as George and I do. George
            quite frequently has malaria in spite of prophylactic quinine but this is not surprising as he
            got the germ thoroughly established in his system in his early elephant hunting days. I
            get it too occasionally but have not been really ill since that first time a month after my
            arrival in the country.

            Johnny is such a good baby. His chief claim to beauty is his head of soft golden
            curls but these are due to come off on his first birthday as George considers them too
            girlish. George left on safari the day after the party and the very next morning our wood
            boy had a most unfortunate accident. He was chopping a rather tough log when a chip
            flew up and split his upper lip clean through from mouth to nostril exposing teeth and
            gums. A truly horrible sight and very bloody. I cleaned up the wound as best I could
            and sent him off to the hospital at Dar es Salaam on the office bicycle. He wobbled
            away wretchedly down the road with a white cloth tied over his mouth to keep off the
            dust. He returned next day with his lip stitched and very swollen and bearing a
            resemblance to my lip that time I used the hair remover.

            Eleanor.

            Splendid Hotel. Dar es Salaam 7th September 1939

            Dearest Family,

            So now another war has started and it has disrupted even our lives. We have left
            Nzassa for good. George is now a Lieutenant in the King’s African Rifles and the children
            and I are to go to a place called Morogoro to await further developments.
            I was glad to read in today’s paper that South Africa has declared war on
            Germany. I would have felt pretty small otherwise in this hotel which is crammed full of
            men who have been called up for service in the Army. George seems exhilarated by
            the prospect of active service. He is bursting out of his uniform ( at the shoulders only!)
            and all too ready for the fray.

            The war came as a complete surprise to me stuck out in the bush as I was without
            wireless or mail. George had been away for a fortnight so you can imagine how
            surprised I was when a messenger arrived on a bicycle with a note from George. The
            note informed me that war had been declared and that George, as a Reserve Officer in
            the KAR had been called up. I was to start packing immediately and be ready by noon
            next day when George would arrive with a lorry for our goods and chattels. I started to
            pack immediately with the help of the houseboy and by the time George arrived with
            the lorry only the frig remained to be packed and this was soon done.

            Throughout the morning Game Scouts had been arriving from outlying parts of
            the District. I don’t think they had the least idea where they were supposed to go or
            whom they were to fight but were ready to fight anybody, anywhere, with George.
            They all looked very smart in well pressed uniforms hung about with water bottles and
            ammunition pouches. The large buffalo badge on their round pill box hats absolutely
            glittered with polish. All of course carried rifles and when George arrived they all lined up
            and they looked most impressive. I took some snaps but unfortunately it was drizzling
            and they may not come out well.

            We left Nzassa without a backward glance. We were pretty fed up with it by
            then. The children and I are spending a few days here with George but our luggage, the
            dogs, and the houseboys have already left by train for Morogoro where a small house
            has been found for the children and me.

            George tells me that all the German males in this Territory were interned without a
            hitch. The whole affair must have been very well organised. In every town and
            settlement special constables were sworn in to do the job. It must have been a rather
            unpleasant one but seems to have gone without incident. There is a big transit camp
            here at Dar for the German men. Later they are to be sent out of the country, possibly to
            Rhodesia.

            The Indian tailors in the town are all terribly busy making Army uniforms, shorts
            and tunics in khaki drill. George swears that they have muddled their orders and he has
            been given the wrong things. Certainly the tunic is far too tight. His hat, a khaki slouch hat
            like you saw the Australians wearing in the last war, is also too small though it is the
            largest they have in stock. We had a laugh over his other equipment which includes a
            small canvas haversack and a whistle on a black cord. George says he feels like he is
            back in his Boy Scouting boyhood.

            George has just come in to say the we will be leaving for Morogoro tomorrow
            afternoon.

            Eleanor.

            Morogoro 14th September 1939

            Dearest Family,

            Morogoro is a complete change from Nzassa. This is a large and sprawling
            township. The native town and all the shops are down on the flat land by the railway but
            all the European houses are away up the slope of the high Uluguru Mountains.
            Morogoro was a flourishing town in the German days and all the streets are lined with
            trees for coolness as is the case in other German towns. These trees are the flamboyant
            acacia which has an umbrella top and throws a wide but light shade.

            Most of the houses have large gardens so they cover a considerable area and it
            is quite a safari for me to visit friends on foot as our house is on the edge of this area and
            the furthest away from the town. Here ones house is in accordance with ones seniority in
            Government service. Ours is a simple affair, just three lofty square rooms opening on to
            a wide enclosed verandah. Mosquitoes are bad here so all doors and windows are
            screened and we will have to carry on with our daily doses of quinine.

            George came up to Morogoro with us on the train. This was fortunate because I
            went down with a sharp attack of malaria at the hotel on the afternoon of our departure
            from Dar es Salaam. George’s drastic cure of vast doses of quinine, a pillow over my
            head, and the bed heaped with blankets soon brought down the temperature so I was
            fit enough to board the train but felt pretty poorly on the trip. However next day I felt
            much better which was a good thing as George had to return to Dar es Salaam after two
            days. His train left late at night so I did not see him off but said good-bye at home
            feeling dreadful but trying to keep the traditional stiff upper lip of the wife seeing her
            husband off to the wars. He hopes to go off to Abyssinia but wrote from Dar es Salaam
            to say that he is being sent down to Rhodesia by road via Mbeya to escort the first
            detachment of Rhodesian white troops.

            First he will have to select suitable camping sites for night stops and arrange for
            supplies of food. I am very pleased as it means he will be safe for a while anyway. We
            are both worried about Ann and George in England and wonder if it would be safer to
            have them sent out.

            Eleanor.

            Morogoro 4th November 1939

            Dearest Family,

            My big news is that George has been released from the Army. He is very
            indignant and disappointed because he hoped to go to Abyssinia but I am terribly,
            terribly glad. The Chief Secretary wrote a very nice letter to George pointing out that he
            would be doing a greater service to his country by his work of elephant control, giving
            crop protection during the war years when foodstuffs are such a vital necessity, than by
            doing a soldiers job. The Government plan to start a huge rice scheme in the Rufiji area,
            and want George to control the elephant and hippo there. First of all though. he must go
            to the Southern Highlands Province where there is another outbreak of Rinderpest, to
            shoot out diseased game especially buffalo, which might spread the disease.

            So off we go again on our travels but this time we are leaving the two dogs
            behind in the care of Daniel, the Game Clerk. Fanny is very pregnant and I hate leaving
            her behind but the clerk has promised to look after her well. We are taking Hamisi, our
            dignified Swahili cook and the houseboy Juma and his wife whom we brought with us
            from Nzassa. The boy is not very good but his wife makes a cheerful and placid ayah
            and adores Johnny.

            Eleanor.

            Iringa 8th December 1939

            Dearest Family,

            The children and I are staying in a small German house leased from the
            Custodian of Enemy Property. I can’t help feeling sorry for the owners who must be in
            concentration camps somewhere.George is away in the bush dealing with the
            Rinderpest emergency and the cook has gone with him. Now I have sent the houseboy
            and the ayah away too. Two days ago my houseboy came and told me that he felt
            very ill and asked me to write a ‘chit’ to the Indian Doctor. In the note I asked the Doctor
            to let me know the nature of his complaint and to my horror I got a note from him to say
            that the houseboy had a bad case of Venereal Disease. Was I horrified! I took it for
            granted that his wife must be infected too and told them both that they would have to
            return to their home in Nzassa. The boy shouted and the ayah wept but I paid them in
            lieu of notice and gave them money for the journey home. So there I was left servant
            less with firewood to chop, a smokey wood burning stove to control, and of course, the
            two children.

            To add to my troubles Johnny had a temperature so I sent for the European
            Doctor. He diagnosed malaria and was astonished at the size of Johnny’s spleen. He
            said that he must have had suppressed malaria over a long period and the poor child
            must now be fed maximum doses of quinine for a long time. The Doctor is a fatherly
            soul, he has been recalled from retirement to do this job as so many of the young
            doctors have been called up for service with the army.

            I told him about my houseboy’s complaint and the way I had sent him off
            immediately, and he was very amused at my haste, saying that it is most unlikely that
            they would have passed the disease onto their employers. Anyway I hated the idea. I
            mean to engage a houseboy locally, but will do without an ayah until we return to
            Morogoro in February.

            Something happened today to cheer me up. A telegram came from Daniel which
            read, “FLANNEL HAS FIVE CUBS.”

            Eleanor.

            Morogoro 10th March 1940

            Dearest Family,

            We are having very heavy rain and the countryside is a most beautiful green. In
            spite of the weather George is away on safari though it must be very wet and
            unpleasant. He does work so hard at his elephant hunting job and has got very thin. I
            suppose this is partly due to those stomach pains he gets and the doctors don’t seem
            to diagnose the trouble.

            Living in Morogoro is much like living in a country town in South Africa, particularly
            as there are several South African women here. I go out quite often to morning teas. We
            all take our war effort knitting, and natter, and are completely suburban.
            I sometimes go and see an elderly couple who have been interred here. They
            are cold shouldered by almost everyone else but I cannot help feeling sorry for them.
            Usually I go by invitation because I know Mrs Ruppel prefers to be prepared and
            always has sandwiches and cake. They both speak English but not fluently and
            conversation is confined to talking about my children and theirs. Their two sons were
            students in Germany when war broke out but are now of course in the German Army.
            Such nice looking chaps from their photographs but I suppose thorough Nazis. As our
            conversation is limited I usually ask to hear a gramophone record or two. They have a
            large collection.

            Janet, the ayah whom I engaged at Mbeya, is proving a great treasure. She is a
            trained hospital ayah and is most dependable and capable. She is, perhaps, a little strict
            but the great thing is that I can trust her with the children out of my sight.
            Last week I went out at night for the first time without George. The occasion was
            a farewell sundowner given by the Commissioner of Prisoners and his wife. I was driven
            home by the District Officer and he stopped his car by the back door in a large puddle.
            Ayah came to the back door, storm lamp in hand, to greet me. My escort prepared to
            drive off but the car stuck. I thought a push from me might help, so without informing the
            driver, I pushed as hard as I could on the back of the car. Unfortunately the driver
            decided on other tactics. He put the engine in reverse and I was knocked flat on my back
            in the puddle. The car drove forward and away without the driver having the least idea of
            what happened. The ayah was in quite a state, lifting me up and scolding me for my
            stupidity as though I were Kate. I was a bit shaken but non the worse and will know
            better next time.

            Eleanor.

            Morogoro 14th July 1940

            Dearest Family,

            How good it was of Dad to send that cable to Mother offering to have Ann and
            George to live with you if they are accepted for inclusion in the list of children to be
            evacuated to South Africa. It would be wonderful to know that they are safely out of the
            war zone and so much nearer to us but I do dread the thought of the long sea voyage
            particularly since we heard the news of the sinking of that liner carrying child evacuees to
            Canada. I worry about them so much particularly as George is so often away on safari.
            He is so comforting and calm and I feel brave and confident when he is home.
            We have had no news from England for five weeks but, when she last wrote,
            mother said the children were very well and that she was sure they would be safe in the
            country with her.

            Kate and John are growing fast. Kate is such a pretty little girl, rosy in spite of the
            rather trying climate. I have allowed her hair to grow again and it hangs on her shoulders
            in shiny waves. John is a more slightly built little boy than young George was, and quite
            different in looks. He has Dad’s high forehead and cleft chin, widely spaced brown eyes
            that are not so dark as mine and hair that is still fair and curly though ayah likes to smooth it
            down with water every time she dresses him. He is a shy child, and although he plays
            happily with Kate, he does not care to play with other children who go in the late
            afternoons to a lawn by the old German ‘boma’.

            Kate has playmates of her own age but still rather clings to me. Whilst she loves
            to have friends here to play with her, she will not go to play at their houses unless I go
            too and stay. She always insists on accompanying me when I go out to morning tea
            and always calls JanetJohn’s ayah”. One morning I went to a knitting session at a
            neighbours house. We are all knitting madly for the troops. As there were several other
            women in the lounge and no other children, I installed Kate in the dining room with a
            colouring book and crayons. My hostess’ black dog was chained to the dining room
            table leg, but as he and Kate are on friendly terms I was not bothered by this.
            Some time afterwards, during a lull in conversation, I heard a strange drumming
            noise coming from the dining room. I went quickly to investigate and, to my horror, found
            Kate lying on her back with the dog chain looped around her neck. The frightened dog
            was straining away from her as far as he could get and the chain was pulled so tightly
            around her throat that she could not scream. The drumming noise came from her heels
            kicking in a panic on the carpet.

            Even now I do not know how Kate got herself into this predicament. Luckily no
            great harm was done but I think I shall do my knitting at home in future.

            Eleanor.

            Morogoro 16th November 1940

            Dearest Family,

            I much prefer our little house on the hillside to the larger one we had down below.
            The only disadvantage is that the garden is on three levels and both children have had
            some tumbles down the steps on the tricycle. John is an extremely stoical child. He
            never cries when he hurts himself.

            I think I have mentioned ‘Morningside’ before. It is a kind of Resthouse high up in
            the Uluguru Mountains above Morogoro. Jess Howe-Browne, who runs the large
            house as a Guest House, is a wonderful woman. Besides running the boarding house
            she also grows vegetables, flowers and fruit for sale in Morogoro and Dar es Salaam.
            Her guests are usually women and children from Dar es Salaam who come in the hot
            season to escape the humidity on the coast. Often the mothers leave their children for
            long periods in Jess Howe-Browne’s care. There is a road of sorts up the mountain side
            to Morningside, but this is so bad that cars do not attempt it and guests are carried up
            the mountain in wicker chairs lashed to poles. Four men carry an adult, and two a child,
            and there are of course always spare bearers and they work in shifts.

            Last week the children and I went to Morningside for the day as guests. John
            rode on my lap in one chair and Kate in a small chair on her own. This did not please
            Kate at all. The poles are carried on the bearers shoulders and one is perched quite high.
            The motion is a peculiar rocking one. The bearers chant as they go and do not seem
            worried by shortness of breath! They are all hillmen of course and are, I suppose, used
            to trotting up and down to the town.

            Morningside is well worth visiting and we spent a delightful day there. The fresh
            cool air is a great change from the heavy air of the valley. A river rushes down the
            mountain in a series of cascades, and the gardens are shady and beautiful. Behind the
            property is a thick indigenous forest which stretches from Morningside to the top of the
            mountain. The house is an old German one, rather in need of repair, but Jess has made
            it comfortable and attractive, with some of her old family treasures including a fine old
            Grandfather clock. We had a wonderful lunch which included large fresh strawberries and
            cream. We made the return journey again in the basket chairs and got home before dark.
            George returned home at the weekend with a baby elephant whom we have
            called Winnie. She was rescued from a mud hole by some African villagers and, as her
            mother had abandoned her, they took her home and George was informed. He went in
            the truck to fetch her having first made arrangements to have her housed in a shed on the
            Agriculture Department Experimental Farm here. He has written to the Game Dept
            Headquarters to inform the Game Warden and I do not know what her future will be, but
            in the meantime she is our pet. George is afraid she will not survive because she has
            had a very trying time. She stands about waist high and is a delightful creature and quite
            docile. Asian and African children as well as Europeans gather to watch her and George
            encourages them to bring fruit for her – especially pawpaws which she loves.
            Whilst we were there yesterday one of the local ladies came, very smartly
            dressed in a linen frock, silk stockings, and high heeled shoes. She watched fascinated
            whilst Winnie neatly split a pawpaw and removed the seeds with her trunk, before
            scooping out the pulp and putting it in her mouth. It was a particularly nice ripe pawpaw
            and Winnie enjoyed it so much that she stretched out her trunk for more. The lady took
            fright and started to run with Winnie after her, sticky trunk outstretched. Quite an
            entertaining sight. George managed to stop Winnie but not before she had left a gooey
            smear down the back of the immaculate frock.

            Eleanor.

             

            #6263
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              From Tanganyika with Love

              continued  ~ part 4

              With thanks to Mike Rushby.

              Mchewe Estate. 31st January 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Life is very quiet just now. Our neighbours have left and I miss them all especially
              Joni who was always a great bearer of news. We also grew fond of his Swedish
              brother-in-law Max, whose loud ‘Hodi’ always brought a glad ‘Karibu’ from us. His wife,
              Marion, I saw less often. She is not strong and seldom went visiting but has always
              been friendly and kind and ready to share her books with me.

              Ann’s birthday is looming ahead and I am getting dreadfully anxious that her
              parcels do not arrive in time. I am delighted that you were able to get a good head for
              her doll, dad, but horrified to hear that it was so expensive. You would love your
              ‘Charming Ann’. She is a most responsible little soul and seems to have outgrown her
              mischievous ways. A pity in a way, I don’t want her to grow too serious. You should see
              how thoroughly Ann baths and towels herself. She is anxious to do Georgie and Kate
              as well.

              I did not mean to teach Ann to write until after her fifth birthday but she has taught
              herself by copying the large print in newspaper headlines. She would draw a letter and
              ask me the name and now I find that at four Ann knows the whole alphabet. The front
              cement steps is her favourite writing spot. She uses bits of white clay we use here for
              whitewashing.

              Coffee prices are still very low and a lot of planters here and at Mbosi are in a
              mess as they can no longer raise mortgages on their farms or get advances from the
              Bank against their crops. We hear many are leaving their farms to try their luck on the
              Diggings.

              George is getting fed up too. The snails are back on the shamba and doing
              frightful damage. Talk of the plagues of Egypt! Once more they are being collected in
              piles and bashed into pulp. The stench on the shamba is frightful! The greybeards in the
              village tell George that the local Chief has put a curse on the farm because he is angry
              that the Government granted George a small extension to the farm two years ago! As
              the Chief was consulted at the time and was agreeable this talk of a curse is nonsense
              but goes to show how the uneducated African put all disasters down to witchcraft.

              With much love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 9th February 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Ann’s birthday yesterday was not quite the gay occasion we had hoped. The
              seventh was mail day so we sent a runner for the mail, hoping against hope that your
              parcel containing the dolls head had arrived. The runner left for Mbeya at dawn but, as it
              was a very wet day, he did not return with the mail bag until after dark by which time Ann
              was fast asleep. My heart sank when I saw the parcel which contained the dolls new
              head. It was squashed quite flat. I shed a few tears over that shattered head, broken
              quite beyond repair, and George felt as bad about it as I did. The other parcel arrived in
              good shape and Ann loves her little sewing set, especially the thimble, and the nursery
              rhymes are a great success.

              Ann woke early yesterday and began to open her parcels. She said “But
              Mummy, didn’t Barbara’s new head come?” So I had to show her the fragments.
              Instead of shedding the flood of tears I expected, Ann just lifted the glass eyes in her
              hand and said in a tight little voice “Oh poor Barbara.” George saved the situation. as
              usual, by saying in a normal voice,”Come on Ann, get up and lets play your new
              records.” So we had music and sweets before breakfast. Later I removed Barbara’s
              faded old blond wig and gummed on the glossy new brown one and Ann seems quite
              satisfied.

              Last night, after the children were tucked up in bed, we discussed our financial
              situation. The coffee trees that have survived the plagues of borer beetle, mealie bugs
              and snails look strong and fine, but George says it will be years before we make a living
              out of the farm. He says he will simply have to make some money and he is leaving for
              the Lupa on Saturday to have a look around on the Diggings. If he does decide to peg
              a claim and work it he will put up a wattle and daub hut and the children and I will join him
              there. But until such time as he strikes gold I shall have to remain here on the farm and
              ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’.

              Now don’t go and waste pity on me. Women all over the country are having to
              stay at home whilst their husbands search for a livelihood. I am better off than most
              because I have a comfortable little home and loyal servants and we still have enough
              capitol to keep the wolf from the door. Anyway this is the rainy season and hardly the
              best time to drag three small children around the sodden countryside on prospecting
              safaris.

              So I’ll stay here at home and hold thumbs that George makes a lucky strike.

              Heaps of love to all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 27th February 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Well, George has gone but here we are quite safe and cosy. Kate is asleep and
              Ann and Georgie are sprawled on the couch taking it in turns to enumerate the things
              God has made. Every now and again Ann bothers me with an awkward question. “Did
              God make spiders? Well what for? Did he make weeds? Isn’t He silly, mummy? She is
              becoming a very practical person. She sews surprisingly well for a four year old and has
              twice made cakes in the past week, very sweet and liberally coloured with cochineal and
              much appreciated by Georgie.

              I have been without George for a fortnight and have adapted myself to my new
              life. The children are great company during the day and I have arranged my evenings so
              that they do not seem long. I am determined that when George comes home he will find
              a transformed wife. I read an article entitled ‘Are you the girl he married?’ in a magazine
              last week and took a good look in the mirror and decided that I certainly was not! Hair dry,
              skin dry, and I fear, a faint shadow on the upper lip. So now I have blown the whole of
              your Christmas Money Order on an order to a chemist in Dar es Salaam for hair tonic,
              face cream and hair remover and am anxiously awaiting the parcel.

              In the meantime, after tucking the children into bed at night, I skip on the verandah
              and do the series of exercises recommended in the magazine article. After this exertion I
              have a leisurely bath followed by a light supper and then read or write letters to pass
              the time until Kate’s ten o’clock feed. I have arranged for Janey to sleep in the house.
              She comes in at 9.30 pm and makes up her bed on the living room floor by the fire.

              The days are by no means uneventful. The day before yesterday the biggest
              troop of monkeys I have ever seen came fooling around in the trees and on the grass
              only a few yards from the house. These monkeys were the common grey monkeys
              with black faces. They came in all sizes and were most entertaining to watch. Ann and
              Georgie had a great time copying their antics and pulling faces at the monkeys through
              the bedroom windows which I hastily closed.

              Thomas, our headman, came running up and told me that this troop of monkeys
              had just raided his maize shamba and asked me to shoot some of them. I would not of
              course do this. I still cannot bear to kill any animal, but I fired a couple of shots in the air
              and the monkeys just melted away. It was fantastic, one moment they were there and
              the next they were not. Ann and Georgie thought I had been very unkind to frighten the
              poor monkeys but honestly, when I saw what they had done to my flower garden, I
              almost wished I had hardened my heart and shot one or two.

              The children are all well but Ann gave me a nasty fright last week. I left Ann and
              Georgie at breakfast whilst I fed Fanny, our bull terrier on the back verandah. Suddenly I
              heard a crash and rushed inside to find Ann’s chair lying on its back and Ann beside it on
              the floor perfectly still and with a paper white face. I shouted for Janey to bring water and
              laid Ann flat on the couch and bathed her head and hands. Soon she sat up with a wan
              smile and said “I nearly knocked my head off that time, didn’t I.” She must have been
              standing on the chair and leaning against the back. Our brick floors are so terribly hard that
              she might have been seriously hurt.

              However she was none the worse for the fall, but Heavens, what an anxiety kids
              are.

              Lots of love,
              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 12th March 1936

              Dearest Family,

              It was marvellous of you to send another money order to replace the one I spent
              on cosmetics. With this one I intend to order boots for both children as a protection from
              snake bite, though from my experience this past week the threat seems to be to the
              head rather than the feet. I was sitting on the couch giving Kate her morning milk from a
              cup when a long thin snake fell through the reed ceiling and landed with a thud just behind
              the couch. I shouted “Nyoka, Nyoka!” (Snake,Snake!) and the houseboy rushed in with
              a stick and killed the snake. I then held the cup to Kate’s mouth again but I suppose in
              my agitation I tipped it too much because the baby choked badly. She gasped for
              breath. I quickly gave her a sharp smack on the back and a stream of milk gushed
              through her mouth and nostrils and over me. Janey took Kate from me and carried her
              out into the fresh air on the verandah and as I anxiously followed her through the door,
              another long snake fell from the top of the wall just missing me by an inch or so. Luckily
              the houseboy still had the stick handy and dispatched this snake also.

              The snakes were a pair of ‘boomslangs’, not nice at all, and all day long I have
              had shamba boys coming along to touch hands and say “Poli Memsahib” – “Sorry
              madam”, meaning of course ‘Sorry you had a fright.’

              Apart from that one hectic morning this has been a quiet week. Before George
              left for the Lupa he paid off most of the farm hands as we can now only afford a few
              labourers for the essential work such as keeping the weeds down in the coffee shamba.
              There is now no one to keep the grass on the farm roads cut so we cannot use the pram
              when we go on our afternoon walks. Instead Janey carries Kate in a sling on her back.
              Janey is a very clean slim woman, and her clothes are always spotless, so Kate keeps
              cool and comfortable. Ann and Georgie always wear thick overalls on our walks as a
              protection against thorns and possible snakes. We usually make our way to the
              Mchewe River where Ann and Georgie paddle in the clear cold water and collect shiny
              stones.

              The cosmetics parcel duly arrived by post from Dar es Salaam so now I fill the
              evenings between supper and bed time attending to my face! The much advertised
              cream is pink and thick and feels revolting. I smooth it on before bedtime and keep it on
              all night. Just imagine if George could see me! The advertisements promise me a skin
              like a rose in six weeks. What a surprise there is in store for George!

              You will have been wondering what has happened to George. Well on the Lupa
              he heard rumours of a new gold strike somewhere in the Sumbawanga District. A couple
              of hundred miles from here I think, though I am not sure where it is and have no one to
              ask. You look it up on the map and tell me. John Molteno is also interested in this and
              anxious to have it confirmed so he and George have come to an agreement. John
              Molteno provided the porters for the journey together with prospecting tools and
              supplies but as he cannot leave his claims, or his gold buying business, George is to go
              on foot to the area of the rumoured gold strike and, if the strike looks promising will peg
              claims in both their names.

              The rainy season is now at its height and the whole countryside is under water. All
              roads leading to the area are closed to traffic and, as there are few Europeans who
              would attempt the journey on foot, George proposes to get a head start on them by
              making this uncomfortable safari. I have just had my first letter from George since he left
              on this prospecting trip. It took ages to reach me because it was sent by runner to
              Abercorn in Northern Rhodesia, then on by lorry to Mpika where it was put on a plane
              for Mbeya. George writes the most charming letters which console me a little upon our
              all too frequent separations.

              His letter was cheerful and optimistic, though reading between the lines I should
              say he had a grim time. He has reached Sumbawanga after ‘a hell of a trip’, to find that
              the rumoured strike was at Mpanda and he had a few more days of foot safari ahead.
              He had found the trip from the Lupa even wetter than he had expected. The party had
              three days of wading through swamps sometimes waist deep in water. Of his sixteen
              porters, four deserted an the second day out and five others have had malaria and so
              been unable to carry their loads. He himself is ‘thin but very fit’, and he sounds full of
              beans and writes gaily of the marvellous holiday we will have if he has any decent luck! I
              simply must get that mink and diamonds complexion.

              The frustrating thing is that I cannot write back as I have no idea where George is
              now.

              With heaps of love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 24th March 1936

              Dearest Family,
              How kind you are. Another parcel from home. Although we are very short
              of labourers I sent a special runner to fetch it as Ann simply couldn’t bear the suspense
              of waiting to see Brenda, “My new little girl with plaits.” Thank goodness Brenda is
              unbreakable. I could not have born another tragedy. She really is an exquisite little doll
              and has hardly been out of Ann’s arms since arrival. She showed Brenda proudly to all
              the staff. The kitchen boy’s face was a study. His eyes fairly came out on sticks when he
              saw the dolls eyes not only opening and shutting, but moving from side to side in that
              incredibly lifelike way. Georgie loves his little model cars which he carries around all day
              and puts under his pillow at night.

              As for me, I am enchanted by my very smart new frock. Janey was so lavish with
              her compliments when I tried the frock on, that in a burst of generosity I gave her that
              rather tartish satin and lace trousseau nighty, and she was positively enthralled. She
              wore it that very night when she appeared as usual to doss down by the fire.
              By the way it was Janey’s turn to have a fright this week. She was in the
              bathroom washing the children’s clothes in an outsize hand basin when it happened. As
              she took Georgie’s overalls from the laundry basket a large centipede ran up her bare
              arm. Luckily she managed to knock the centipede off into the hot water in the hand basin.
              It was a brute, about six inches long of viciousness with a nasty sting. The locals say that
              the bite is much worse than a scorpions so Janey had a lucky escape.

              Kate cut her first two teeth yesterday and will, I hope, sleep better now. I don’t
              feel that pink skin food is getting a fair trial with all those broken nights. There is certainly
              no sign yet of ‘The skin he loves to touch”. Kate, I may say, is rosy and blooming. She
              can pull herself upright providing she has something solid to hold on to. She is so plump
              I have horrible visions of future bow legs so I push her down, but she always bobs up
              again.

              Both Ann and Georgie are mad on books. Their favourites are ‘Barbar and
              Celeste” and, of all things, ‘Struvel Peter’ . They listen with absolute relish to the sad tale
              of Harriet who played with matches.

              I have kept a laugh for the end. I am hoping that it will not be long before George
              comes home and thought it was time to take the next step towards glamour, so last
              Wednesday after lunch I settled the children on their beds and prepared to remove the ,
              to me, obvious down on my upper lip. (George always loyally says that he can’t see
              any.) Well I got out the tube of stuff and carefully followed the directions. I smoothed a
              coating on my upper lip. All this was watched with great interest by the children, including
              the baby, who stood up in her cot for a better view. Having no watch, I had propped
              the bedroom door open so that I could time the operation by the cuckoo clock in the
              living room. All the children’s surprised comments fell on deaf ears. I would neither talk
              nor smile for fear of cracking the hair remover which had set hard. The set time was up
              and I was just about to rinse the remover off when Kate slipped, knocking her head on
              the corner of the cot. I rushed to the rescue and precious seconds ticked off whilst I
              pacified her.

              So, my dears, when I rinsed my lip, not only the plaster and the hair came away
              but the skin as well and now I really did have a Ronald Coleman moustache – a crimson
              one. I bathed it, I creamed it, powdered it but all to no avail. Within half an hour my lip
              had swollen until I looked like one of those Duckbilled West African women. Ann’s
              comments, “Oh Mummy, you do look funny. Georgie, doesn’t Mummy look funny?”
              didn’t help to soothe me and the last straw was that just then there was the sound of a car drawing up outside – the first car I had heard for months. Anyway, thank heaven, it
              was not George, but the representative of a firm which sells agricultural machinery and
              farm implements, looking for orders. He had come from Dar es Salaam and had not
              heard that all the planters from this district had left their farms. Hospitality demanded that I
              should appear and offer tea. I did not mind this man because he was a complete
              stranger and fat, middle aged and comfortable. So I gave him tea, though I didn’t
              attempt to drink any myself, and told him the whole sad tale.

              Fortunately much of the swelling had gone next day and only a brown dryness
              remained. I find myself actually hoping that George is delayed a bit longer. Of one thing
              I am sure. If ever I grow a moustache again, it stays!

              Heaps of love from a sadder but wiser,
              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 3rd April 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Sound the trumpets, beat the drums. George is home again. The safari, I am sad
              to say, was a complete washout in more ways than one. Anyway it was lovely to be
              together again and we don’t yet talk about the future. The home coming was not at all as
              I had planned it. I expected George to return in our old A.C. car which gives ample
              warning of its arrival. I had meant to wear my new frock and make myself as glamourous
              as possible, with our beautiful babe on one arm and our other jewels by my side.
              This however is what actually happened. Last Saturday morning at about 2 am , I
              thought I heard someone whispering my name. I sat up in bed, still half asleep, and
              there was George at the window. He was thin and unshaven and the tiredest looking
              man I have ever seen. The car had bogged down twenty miles back along the old Lupa
              Track, but as George had had no food at all that day, he decided to walk home in the
              bright moonlight.

              This is where I should have served up a tasty hot meal but alas, there was only
              the heal of a loaf and no milk because, before going to bed I had given the remaining
              milk to the dog. However George seemed too hungry to care what he ate. He made a
              meal off a tin of bully, a box of crustless cheese and the bread washed down with cup
              after cup of black tea. Though George was tired we talked for hours and it was dawn
              before we settled down to sleep.

              During those hours of talk George described his nightmarish journey. He started
              up the flooded Rukwa Valley and there were days of wading through swamp and mud
              and several swollen rivers to cross. George is a strong swimmer and the porters who
              were recruited in that area, could also swim. There remained the problem of the stores
              and of Kianda the houseboy who cannot swim. For these they made rough pole rafts
              which they pulled across the rivers with ropes. Kianda told me later that he hopes never
              to make such a journey again. He swears that the raft was submerged most of the time
              and that he was dragged through the rivers underwater! You should see the state of
              George’s clothes which were packed in a supposedly water tight uniform trunk. The
              whole lot are mud stained and mouldy.

              To make matters more trying for George he was obliged to live mostly on
              porters rations, rice and groundnut oil which he detests. As all the district roads were
              closed the little Indian Sores in the remote villages he passed had been unable to
              replenish their stocks of European groceries. George would have been thinner had it not
              been for two Roman Catholic missions enroute where he had good meals and dry
              nights. The Fathers are always wonderfully hospitable to wayfarers irrespective of
              whether or not they are Roman Catholics. George of course is not a Catholic. One finds
              the Roman Catholic missions right out in the ‘Blue’ and often on spots unhealthy to
              Europeans. Most of the Fathers are German or Dutch but they all speak a little English
              and in any case one can always fall back on Ki-Swahili.

              George reached his destination all right but it soon became apparent that reports
              of the richness of the strike had been greatly exaggerated. George had decided that
              prospects were brighter on the Lupa than on the new strike so he returned to the Lupa
              by the way he had come and, having returned the borrowed equipment decided to
              make his way home by the shortest route, the old and now rarely used road which
              passes by the bottom of our farm.

              The old A.C. had been left for safe keeping at the Roman Catholic Galala
              Mission 40 miles away, on George’s outward journey, and in this old car George, and
              the houseboy Kianda , started for home. The road was indescribably awful. There were long stretches that were simply one big puddle, in others all the soil had been washed
              away leaving the road like a rocky river bed. There were also patches where the tall
              grass had sprung up head high in the middle of the road,
              The going was slow because often the car bogged down because George had
              no wheel chains and he and Kianda had the wearisome business of digging her out. It
              was just growing dark when the old A.C. settled down determinedly in the mud for the
              last time. They could not budge her and they were still twenty miles from home. George
              decided to walk home in the moonlight to fetch help leaving Kianda in charge of the car
              and its contents and with George’s shot gun to use if necessary in self defence. Kianda
              was reluctant to stay but also not prepared to go for help whilst George remained with
              the car as lions are plentiful in that area. So George set out unarmed in the moonlight.
              Once he stopped to avoid a pride of lion coming down the road but he circled safely
              around them and came home without any further alarms.

              Kianda said he had a dreadful night in the car, “With lions roaming around the car
              like cattle.” Anyway the lions did not take any notice of the car or of Kianda, and the next
              day George walked back with all our farm boys and dug and pushed the car out of the
              mud. He brought car and Kianda back without further trouble but the labourers on their
              way home were treed by the lions.

              The wet season is definitely the time to stay home.

              Lots and lots of love,
              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 30th April 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Young George’s third birthday passed off very well yesterday. It started early in
              the morning when he brought his pillow slip of presents to our bed. Kate was already
              there and Ann soon joined us. Young George liked all the presents you sent, especially
              the trumpet. It has hardly left his lips since and he is getting quite smart about the finger
              action.

              We had quite a party. Ann and I decorated the table with Christmas tree tinsel
              and hung a bunch of balloons above it. Ann also decorated young George’s chair with
              roses and phlox from the garden. I had made and iced a fruit cake but Ann begged to
              make a plain pink cake. She made it entirely by herself though I stood by to see that
              she measured the ingredients correctly. When the cake was baked I mixed some soft
              icing in a jug and she poured it carefully over the cake smoothing the gaps with her
              fingers!

              During the party we had the gramophone playing and we pulled crackers and
              wore paper hats and altogether had a good time. I forgot for a while that George is
              leaving again for the Lupa tomorrow for an indefinite time. He was marvellous at making
              young George’s party a gay one. You will have noticed the change from Georgie to
              young George. Our son declares that he now wants to be called George, “Like Dad”.
              He an Ann are a devoted couple and I am glad that there is only a fourteen
              months difference in their ages. They play together extremely well and are very
              independent which is just as well for little Kate now demands a lot of my attention. My
              garden is a real cottage garden and looks very gay and colourful. There are hollyhocks
              and Snapdragons, marigolds and phlox and of course the roses and carnations which, as
              you know, are my favourites. The coffee shamba does not look so good because the
              small labour force, which is all we can afford, cannot cope with all the weeds. You have
              no idea how things grow during the wet season in the tropics.

              Nothing alarming ever seems to happen when George is home, so I’m afraid this
              letter is rather dull. I wanted you to know though, that largely due to all your gifts of toys
              and sweets, Georgie’s 3rd birthday party went with a bang.

              Your very affectionate,
              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 17th September 1936

              Dearest Family,

              I am sorry to hear that Mummy worries about me so much. “Poor Eleanor”,
              indeed! I have a quite exceptional husband, three lovely children, a dear little home and
              we are all well.It is true that I am in rather a rut but what else can we do? George comes
              home whenever he can and what excitement there is when he does come. He cannot
              give me any warning because he has to take advantage of chance lifts from the Diggings
              to Mbeya, but now that he is prospecting nearer home he usually comes walking over
              the hills. About 50 miles of rough going. Really and truly I am all right. Although our diet is
              monotonous we have plenty to eat. Eggs and milk are cheap and fruit plentiful and I
              have a good cook so can devote all my time to the children. I think it is because they are
              my constant companions that Ann and Georgie are so grown up for their years.
              I have no ayah at present because Janey has been suffering form rheumatism
              and has gone home for one of her periodic rests. I manage very well without her except
              in the matter of the afternoon walks. The outward journey is all right. George had all the
              grass cut on his last visit so I am able to push the pram whilst Ann, George and Fanny
              the dog run ahead. It is the uphill return trip that is so trying. Our walk back is always the
              same, down the hill to the river where the children love to play and then along the car
              road to the vegetable garden. I never did venture further since the day I saw a leopard
              jump on a calf. I did not tell you at the time as I thought you might worry. The cattle were
              grazing on a small knoll just off our land but near enough for me to have a clear view.
              Suddenly the cattle scattered in all directions and we heard the shouts of the herd boys
              and saw – or rather had the fleeting impression- of a large animal jumping on a calf. I
              heard the herd boy shout “Chui, Chui!” (leopard) and believe me, we turned in our
              tracks and made for home. To hasten things I picked up two sticks and told the children
              that they were horses and they should ride them home which they did with
              commendable speed.

              Ann no longer rides Joseph. He became increasingly bad tempered and a
              nuisance besides. He took to rolling all over my flower beds though I had never seen
              him roll anywhere else. Then one day he kicked Ann in the chest, not very hard but
              enough to send her flying. Now George has given him to the native who sells milk to us
              and he seems quite happy grazing with the cattle.

              With love to you all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 2nd October 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Since I last wrote George has been home and we had a lovely time as usual.
              Whilst he was here the District Commissioner and his wife called. Mr Pollock told
              George that there is to be a big bush clearing scheme in some part of the Mbeya
              District to drive out Tsetse Fly. The game in the area will have to be exterminated and
              there will probably be a job for George shooting out the buffalo. The pay would be
              good but George says it is a beastly job. Although he is a professional hunter, he hates
              slaughter.

              Mrs P’s real reason for visiting the farm was to invite me to stay at her home in
              Mbeya whilst she and her husband are away in Tukuyu. Her English nanny and her small
              daughter will remain in Mbeya and she thought it might be a pleasant change for us and
              a rest for me as of course Nanny will do the housekeeping. I accepted the invitation and I
              think I will go on from there to Tukuyu and visit my friend Lillian Eustace for a fortnight.
              She has given us an open invitation to visit her at any time.

              I had a letter from Dr Eckhardt last week, telling me that at a meeting of all the
              German Settlers from Mbeya, Tukuyu and Mbosi it had been decided to raise funds to
              build a school at Mbeya. They want the British Settlers to co-operate in this and would
              be glad of a subscription from us. I replied to say that I was unable to afford a
              subscription at present but would probably be applying for a teaching job.
              The Eckhardts are the leaders of the German community here and are ardent
              Nazis. For this reason they are unpopular with the British community but he is the only
              doctor here and I must say they have been very decent to us. Both of them admire
              George. George has still not had any luck on the Lupa and until he makes a really
              promising strike it is unlikely that the children and I will join him. There is no fresh milk there
              and vegetables and fruit are imported from Mbeya and Iringa and are very expensive.
              George says “You wouldn’t be happy on the diggings anyway with a lot of whores and
              their bastards!”

              Time ticks away very pleasantly here. Young George and Kate are blooming
              and I keep well. Only Ann does not look well. She is growing too fast and is listless and
              pale. If I do go to Mbeya next week I shall take her to the doctor to be overhauled.
              We do not go for our afternoon walks now that George has returned to the Lupa.
              That leopard has been around again and has killed Tubbage that cowardly Alsatian. We
              gave him to the village headman some months ago. There is no danger to us from the
              leopard but I am terrified it might get Fanny, who is an excellent little watchdog and
              dearly loved by all of us. Yesterday I sent a note to the Boma asking for a trap gun and
              today the farm boys are building a trap with logs.

              I had a mishap this morning in the garden. I blundered into a nest of hornets and
              got two stings in the left arm above the elbow. Very painful at the time and the place is
              still red and swollen.

              Much love to you all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 10th October 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Well here we are at Mbeya, comfortably installed in the District Commissioner’s
              house. It is one of two oldest houses in Mbeya and is a charming gabled place with tiled
              roof. The garden is perfectly beautiful. I am enjoying the change very much. Nanny
              Baxter is very entertaining. She has a vast fund of highly entertaining tales of the goings
              on amongst the British Aristocracy, gleaned it seems over the nursery teacup in many a
              Stately Home. Ann and Georgie are enjoying the company of other children.
              People are very kind about inviting us out to tea and I gladly accept these
              invitations but I have turned down invitations to dinner and one to a dance at the hotel. It
              is no fun to go out at night without George. There are several grass widows at the pub
              whose husbands are at the diggings. They have no inhibitions about parties.
              I did have one night and day here with George, he got the chance of a lift and
              knowing that we were staying here he thought the chance too good to miss. He was
              also anxious to hear the Doctor’s verdict on Ann. I took Ann to hospital on my second
              day here. Dr Eckhardt said there was nothing specifically wrong but that Ann is a highly
              sensitive type with whom the tropics does not agree. He advised that Ann should
              spend a year in a more temperate climate and that the sooner she goes the better. I felt
              very discouraged to hear this and was most relieved when George turned up
              unexpectedly that evening. He phoo-hood Dr Eckhardt’s recommendation and next
              morning called in Dr Aitkin, the Government Doctor from Chunya and who happened to
              be in Mbeya.

              Unfortunately Dr Aitkin not only confirmed Dr Eckhardt’s opinion but said that he
              thought Ann should stay out of the tropics until she had passed adolescence. I just don’t
              know what to do about Ann. She is a darling child, very sensitive and gentle and a
              lovely companion to me. Also she and young George are inseparable and I just cannot
              picture one without the other. I know that you would be glad to have Ann but how could
              we bear to part with her?

              Your worried but affectionate,
              Eleanor.

              Tukuyu. 23rd October 1936

              Dearest Family,

              As you see we have moved to Tukuyu and we are having a lovely time with
              Lillian Eustace. She gave us such a warm welcome and has put herself out to give us
              every comfort. She is a most capable housekeeper and I find her such a comfortable
              companion because we have the same outlook in life. Both of us are strictly one man
              women and that is rare here. She has a two year old son, Billy, who is enchanted with
              our rolly polly Kate and there are other children on the station with whom Ann and
              Georgie can play. Lillian engaged a temporary ayah for me so I am having a good rest.
              All the children look well and Ann in particular seems to have benefited by the
              change to a cooler climate. She has a good colour and looks so well that people all
              exclaim when I tell them, that two doctors have advised us to send Ann out of the
              country. Perhaps after all, this holiday in Tukuyu will set her up.

              We had a trying journey from Mbeya to Tukuyu in the Post Lorry. The three
              children and I were squeezed together on the front seat between the African driver on
              one side and a vast German on the other. Both men smoked incessantly – the driver
              cigarettes, and the German cheroots. The cab was clouded with a blue haze. Not only
              that! I suddenly felt a smarting sensation on my right thigh. The driver’s cigarette had
              burnt a hole right through that new checked linen frock you sent me last month.
              I had Kate on my lap all the way but Ann and Georgie had to stand against the
              windscreen all the way. The fat German offered to take Ann on his lap but she gave him
              a very cold “No thank you.” Nor did I blame her. I would have greatly enjoyed the drive
              under less crowded conditions. The scenery is gorgeous. One drives through very high
              country crossing lovely clear streams and at one point through rain forest. As it was I
              counted the miles and how thankful I was to see the end of the journey.
              In the days when Tanganyika belonged to the Germans, Tukuyu was the
              administrative centre for the whole of the Southern Highlands Province. The old German
              Fort is still in use as Government offices and there are many fine trees which were
              planted by the Germans. There is a large prosperous native population in this area.
              They go in chiefly for coffee and for bananas which form the basis of their diet.
              There are five British married couples here and Lillian and I go out to tea most
              mornings. In the afternoon there is tennis or golf. The gardens here are beautiful because
              there is rain or at least drizzle all the year round. There are even hedge roses bordering
              some of the district roads. When one walks across the emerald green golf course or
              through the Boma gardens, it is hard to realise that this gentle place is Tropical Africa.
              ‘Such a green and pleasant land’, but I think I prefer our corner of Tanganyika.

              Much love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe. 12th November 1936

              Dearest Family,

              We had a lovely holiday but it is so nice to be home again, especially as Laza,
              the local Nimrod, shot that leopard whilst we were away (with his muzzleloader gun). He
              was justly proud of himself, and I gave him a tip so that he could buy some native beer
              for a celebration. I have never seen one of theses parties but can hear the drums and
              sounds of merrymaking, especially on moonlight nights.

              Our house looks so fresh and uncluttered. Whilst I was away, the boys
              whitewashed the house and my houseboy had washed all the curtains, bedspreads,
              and loose covers and watered the garden. If only George were here it would be
              heaven.

              Ann looked so bonny at Tukuyu that I took her to the Government Doctor there
              hoping that he would find her perfectly healthy, but alas he endorsed the finding of the
              other two doctors so, when an opportunity offers, I think I shall have to send Ann down
              to you for a long holiday from the Tropics. Mother-in-law has offered to fetch her next
              year but England seems so far away. With you she will at least be on the same
              continent.

              I left the children for the first time ever, except for my stay in hospital when Kate
              was born, to go on an outing to Lake Masoko in the Tukuyu district, with four friends.
              Masoko is a beautiful, almost circular crater lake and very very deep. A detachment of
              the King’s African Rifles are stationed there and occupy the old German barracks
              overlooking the lake.

              We drove to Masoko by car and spent the afternoon there as guests of two
              British Army Officers. We had a good tea and the others went bathing in the lake but i
              could not as I did not have a costume. The Lake was as beautiful as I had been lead to
              imagine and our hosts were pleasant but I began to grow anxious as the afternoon
              advanced and my friends showed no signs of leaving. I was in agonies when they
              accepted an invitation to stay for a sundowner. We had this in the old German beer
              garden overlooking the Lake. It was beautiful but what did I care. I had promised the
              children that I would be home to give them their supper and put them to bed. When I
              did at length return to Lillian’s house I found the situation as I had expected. Ann, with her
              imagination had come to the conclusion that I never would return. She had sobbed
              herself into a state of exhaustion. Kate was screaming in sympathy and George 2 was
              very truculent. He wouldn’t even speak to me. Poor Lillian had had a trying time.
              We did not return to Mbeya by the Mail Lorry. Bill and Lillian drove us across to
              Mbeya in their new Ford V8 car. The children chattered happily in the back of the car
              eating chocolate and bananas all the way. I might have known what would happen! Ann
              was dreadfully and messily car sick.

              I engaged the Mbeya Hotel taxi to drive us out to the farm the same afternoon
              and I expect it will be a long time before we leave the farm again.

              Lots and lots of love to all,
              Eleanor.

              Chunya 27th November 1936

              Dearest Family,

              You will be surprised to hear that we are all together now on the Lupa goldfields.
              I have still not recovered from my own astonishment at being here. Until last Saturday
              night I never dreamed of this move. At about ten o’clock I was crouched in the inglenook
              blowing on the embers to make a fire so that I could heat some milk for Kate who is
              cutting teeth and was very restless. Suddenly I heard a car outside. I knew it must be
              George and rushed outside storm lamp in hand. Sure enough, there was George
              standing by a strange car, and beaming all over his face. “Something for you my love,”
              he said placing a little bundle in my hand. It was a knotted handkerchief and inside was a
              fine gold nugget.

              George had that fire going in no time, Kate was given the milk and half an aspirin
              and settles down to sleep, whilst George and I sat around for an hour chatting over our
              tea. He told me that he had borrowed the car from John Molteno and had come to fetch
              me and the children to join him on the diggings for a while. It seems that John, who has a
              camp at Itewe, a couple of miles outside the township of Chunya, the new
              Administrative Centre of the diggings, was off to the Cape to visit his family for a few
              months. John had asked George to run his claims in his absence and had given us the
              loan of his camp and his car.

              George had found the nugget on his own claim but he is not too elated because
              he says that one good month on the diggings is often followed by several months of
              dead loss. However, I feel hopeful, we have had such a run of bad luck that surely it is
              time for the tide to change. George spent Sunday going over the farm with Thomas, the
              headman, and giving him instructions about future work whilst I packed clothes and
              kitchen equipment. I have brought our ex-kitchenboy Kesho Kutwa with me as cook and
              also Janey, who heard that we were off to the Lupa and came to offer her services once
              more as ayah. Janey’s ex-husband Abel is now cook to one of the more successful
              diggers and I think she is hoping to team up with him again.

              The trip over the Mbeya-Chunya pass was new to me and I enjoyed it very
              much indeed. The road winds over the mountains along a very high escarpment and
              one looks down on the vast Usangu flats stretching far away to the horizon. At the
              highest point the road rises to about 7000 feet, and this was too much for Ann who was
              leaning against the back of my seat. She was very thoroughly sick, all over my hair.
              This camp of John Molteno’s is very comfortable. It consists of two wattle and
              daub buildings built end to end in a clearing in the miombo bush. The main building
              consists of a large living room, a store and an office, and the other of one large bedroom
              and a small one separated by an area for bathing. Both buildings are thatched. There are
              no doors, and there are no windows, but these are not necessary because one wall of
              each building is built up only a couple of feet leaving a six foot space for light and air. As
              this is the dry season the weather is pleasant. The air is fresh and dry but not nearly so
              hot as I expected.

              Water is a problem and must be carried long distances in kerosene tins.
              vegetables and fresh butter are brought in a van from Iringa and Mbeya Districts about
              once a fortnight. I have not yet visited Chunya but I believe it is as good a shopping
              centre as Mbeya so we will be able to buy all the non perishable food stuffs we need.
              What I do miss is the fresh milk. The children are accustomed to drinking at least a pint of
              milk each per day but they do not care for the tinned variety.

              Ann and young George love being here. The camp is surrounded by old
              prospecting trenches and they spend hours each day searching for gold in the heaps of gravel. Sometimes they find quartz pitted with little spots of glitter and they bring them
              to me in great excitement. Alas it is only Mica. We have two neighbours. The one is a
              bearded Frenchman and the other an Australian. I have not yet met any women.
              George looks very sunburnt and extremely fit and the children also look well.
              George and I have decided that we will keep Ann with us until my Mother-in-law comes
              out next year. George says that in spite of what the doctors have said, he thinks that the
              shock to Ann of being separated from her family will do her more harm than good. She
              and young George are inseparable and George thinks it would be best if both
              George and Ann return to England with my Mother-in-law for a couple of years. I try not
              to think at all about the breaking up of the family.

              Much love to all,
              Eleanor.

               

              #6243
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                William Housley’s Will and the Court Case

                William Housley died in 1848, but his widow Ellen didn’t die until 1872.  The court case was in 1873.  Details about the court case are archived at the National Archives at Kew,  in London, but are not available online. They can be viewed in person, but that hasn’t been possible thus far.  However, there are a great many references to it in the letters.

                William Housley’s first wife was Mary Carrington 1787-1813.  They had three children, Mary Anne, Elizabeth and William. When Mary died, William married Mary’s sister Ellen, not in their own parish church at Smalley but in Ashbourne.  Although not uncommon for a widower to marry a deceased wife’s sister, it wasn’t legal.  This point is mentioned in one of the letters.

                One of the pages of William Housley’s will:

                William Housleys Will

                 

                An excerpt from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                A comment in a letter from Joseph (August 6, 1873) indicated that William was married twice and that his wives were sisters: “What do you think that I believe that Mary Ann is trying to make our father’s will of no account as she says that my father’s marriage with our mother was not lawful he marrying two sisters. What do you think of her? I have heard my mother say something about paying a fine at the time of the marriage to make it legal.” Markwell and Saul in The A-Z Guide to Tracing Ancestors in Britain explain that marriage to a deceased wife’s sister was not permissible under Canon law as the relationship was within the prohibited degrees. However, such marriages did take place–usually well away from the couple’s home area. Up to 1835 such marriages were not void but were voidable by legal action. Few such actions were instituted but the risk was always there.

                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.”

                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 still living in May 1872. Joseph implied that she and her brother, Will “intend making a bit of bother about the settlement of the bit of property” left by their mother. The 1871 census listed Mary Ann’s occupation as “income from houses.”

                In July 1872, Joseph introduced Ruth’s husband: “No doubt he is a bad lot. He is one of the Heath’s of Stanley Common a miller and he lives at Smalley Mill” (Ruth Heath was Mary Anne Housley’s daughter)
                In 1873 Joseph wrote, “He is nothing but a land shark both Heath and his wife and his wife is the worst of the two. You will think these is hard words but they are true dear brother.” The solicitor, Abraham John Flint, was not at all pleased with Heath’s obstruction of the settlement of the estate. He wrote on June 30, 1873: “Heath agreed at first and then because I would not pay his expenses he refused and has since instructed another solicitor for his wife and Mrs. Weston who have been opposing us to the utmost. I am concerned for all parties interested except these two….The judge severely censured Heath for his conduct and wanted to make an order for sale there and then but Heath’s council would not consent….” In June 1875, the solicitor wrote: “Heath bid for the property but it fetched more money than he could give for it. He has been rather quieter lately.”

                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 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.”

                Anne intended that one third of the inheritance coming to her from her father and her grandfather, William Carrington, be divided between her four nieces: Sam’s three daughters and John’s daughter Elizabeth.
                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”

                However, Samuel was still alive was on the 1871 census in Henley in Arden, and no record of his death can be found. Samuel’s brother in law said he was dead: we do not know why he lied, or perhaps the brothers were lying to keep his share, or another possibility is that Samuel himself told his brother in law to tell them that he was dead. I am inclined to think it was the latter.

                Excerpts from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters continued:

                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.”

                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.”

                In the Adelaide Observer 28 Aug 1875

                HOUSLEY – wanted information
                as to the Death, Will, or Intestacy, and
                Children of Charles Housley, formerly of
                Smalley, Derbyshire, England, who died at
                Geelong or Creewick Creek Diggings, Victoria
                August, 1855. His children will hear of something to their advantage by communicating with
                Mr. A J. Flint, solicitor, Derby, England.
                June 16,1875.

                The Diggers & Diggings of Victoria in 1855. Drawn on Stone by S.T. Gill:

                Victoria Diggings, Australie

                 

                The court case:

                 Kerry v Housley.
                Documents: Bill, demurrer.
                Plaintiffs: Samuel Kerry and Joseph Housley.
                Defendants: William Housley, Joseph Housley (deleted), Edwin Welch Harvey, Eleanor Harvey (deleted), Ernest Harvey infant, William Stafford, Elizabeth Stafford his wife, Mary Ann Housley, George Purdy and Catherine Purdy his wife, Elizabeth Housley, Mary Ann Weston widow and William Heath and Ruth Heath his wife (deleted).
                Provincial solicitor employed in Derbyshire.
                Date: 1873

                From the Narrative on the Letters:

                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.”

                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.”

                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.”

                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’s letters were much concerned with the settling of their mother’s estate. In 1854, Anne wrote, “As for my mother coming (to America) I think not at all likely. She is tied here with her property.” A solicitor, Abraham John Flint of 42 Full Street Derby, was engaged by John following the death of their mother. On June 30, 1873 the solicitor wrote: “Dear sir, On the death of your mother I was consulted by your brother John. I acted for him with reference to the sale and division of your father’s property at Smalley. Mr. Kerry was very unwilling to act as trustee being over 73 years of age but owing to the will being a badly drawn one we could not appoint another trustee in his place nor could the property be sold without a decree of chancery. Therefore Mr. Kerry consented and after a great deal of trouble with Heath who has opposed us all throughout whenever matters did not suit him, we found the title deeds and offered the property for sale by public auction on the 15th of July last. Heath could not find his purchase money without mortaging his property the solicitor which the mortgagee employed refused to accept Mr. Kerry’s title and owing to another defect in the will we could not compel them.”

                In July 1872, Joseph wrote, “I do not know whether you can remember who the trustee was to my father’s will. It was Thomas Watson and Samuel Kerry of Smalley Green. Mr. Watson is dead (died a fortnight before mother) so Mr. Kerry has had to manage the affair.”

                On Dec. 15, 1972, Joseph wrote, “Now about this property affair. It seems as far off of being settled as ever it was….” and in the following March wrote: “I think we are as far off as ever and farther I think.”

                Concerning the property which was auctioned on July 15, 1872 and brought 700 pounds, Joseph wrote: “It was sold in five lots for building land and this man Heath bought up four lots–that is the big house, the croft and the cottages. The croft was made into two lots besides the piece belonging to the big house and the cottages and gardens was another lot and the little intake was another. William Richardson bought that.” Elsewhere Richardson’s purchase was described as “the little croft against Smith’s lane.” Smith’s Lane was probably named for their neighbor Daniel Smith, Mrs. Davy’s father.
                But in December 1872, Joseph wrote that they had not received any money because “Mr. Heath is raising all kinds of objections to the will–something being worded wrong in the will.” In March 1873, Joseph “clarified” matters in this way: “His objection was that one trustee could not convey the property that his signature was not guarantee sufficient as it states in the will that both trustees has to sign the conveyance hence this bother.”
                Joseph indicated that six shares were to come out of the 700 pounds besides Will’s 20 pounds. Children were to come in for the parents shares if dead. The solicitor wrote in 1873, “This of course refers to the Kidsley property in which you take a one seventh share and which if the property sells well may realize you about 60-80 pounds.” In March 1873 Joseph wrote: “You have an equal share with the rest in both lots of property, but I am afraid there will be but very little for any of us.”

                The other “lot of property” was “property in Smalley left under another will.” On July 17, 1872, Joseph wrote: “It was left by my grandfather Carrington and Uncle Richard is trustee. He seems very backward in bringing the property to a sale but I saw him and told him that I for one expect him to proceed with it.” George seemed to have difficulty understanding that there were two pieces of property so Joseph explained further: “It was left by my grandfather Carrington not by our father and Uncle Richard is the trustee for it but the will does not give him power to sell without the signatures of the parties concerned.” In June 1873 the solicitor Abraham John Flint asked: “Nothing has been done about the other property at Smalley at present. It wants attention and the other parties have asked me to attend to it. Do you authorize me to see to it for you as well?”
                After Ellen’s death, the rent was divided between Joseph, Will, Mary Ann and Mr. Heath who bought John’s share and was married to Mary Ann’s daughter, Ruth. Joseph said that Mr. Heath paid 40 pounds for John’s share and that John had drawn 110 pounds in advance. The solicitor said Heath said he paid 60. The solicitor said that Heath was trying to buy the shares of those at home to get control of the property and would have defied the absent ones to get anything.
                In September 1872 Joseph wrote that the lawyer said the trustee cannot sell the property at the bottom of Smalley without the signatures of all parties concerned in it and it will have to go through chancery court which will be a great expense. He advised Joseph to sell his share and Joseph advised George to do the same.

                George sent a “portrait” so that it could be established that it was really him–still living and due a share. Joseph wrote (July 1872): “the trustee was quite willing to (acknowledge you) for the portrait I think is a very good one.” Several letters later in response to an inquiry from George, Joseph wrote: “The trustee recognized you in a minute…I have not shown it to Mary Ann for we are not on good terms….Parties that I have shown it to own you again but they say it is a deal like John. It is something like him, but I think is more like myself.”
                In September 1872 Joseph wrote that the lawyer required all of their ages and they would have to pay “succession duty”. Joseph requested that George send a list of birth dates.

                On May 23, 1874, the solicitor wrote: “I have been offered 240 pounds for the three cottages and the little house. They sold for 200 pounds at the last sale and then I was offered 700 pounds for the whole lot except Richardson’s Heanor piece for which he is still willing to give 58 pounds. Thus you see that the value of the estate has very materially increased since the last sale so that this delay has been beneficial to your interests than other-wise. Coal has become much dearer and they suppose there is coal under this estate. There are many enquiries about it and I believe it will realize 800 pounds or more which increase will more than cover all expenses.” Eventually the solicitor wrote that the property had been sold for 916 pounds and George would take a one-ninth share.

                January 14, 1876:  “I am very sorry to hear of your lameness and illness but I trust that you are now better. This matter as I informed you had to stand over until December since when all the costs and expenses have been taxed and passed by the court and I am expecting to receive the order for these this next week, then we have to pay the legacy duty and them divide the residue which I doubt won’t come to very much amongst so many of you. But you will hear from me towards the end of the month or early next month when I shall have to send you the papers to sign for your share. I can’t tell you how much it will be at present as I shall have to deduct your share with the others of the first sale made of the property before it went to court.
                Wishing you a Happy New Year, I am Dear Sir, Yours truly
                Abram J. Flint”

                September 15, 1876 (the last letter)
                “I duly received your power of attorney which appears to have been properly executed on Thursday last and I sent it on to my London agent, Mr. Henry Lyvell, who happens just now to be away for his annual vacation and will not return for 14 or 20 days and as his signature is required by the Paymaster General before he will pay out your share, it must consequently stand over and await his return home. It shall however receive immediate attention as soon as he returns and I hope to be able to send your checque for the balance very shortly.”

                1874 in chancery:

                Housley Estate Sale

                #6192

                They found me and locked me up again but I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later. I don’t mind though, I can always plot an escape when I’m ready but the fact is, I was tired after awhile. I needed a rest and so here I am. The weather’s awful so I may as well rest up here for a bit longer. They gave me a shot, too, so I don’t have to wear a mask anymore. Unless I want to wear it as a disguise of course, so I’ll keep a couple for when I escape again.

                They gave me a computer to keep me amused and showed me how to do the daftest things I’d never want to do and I thought, what a load of rubbish, just give me a good book, but then this charming little angel of a helper appeared as if by magic and showed me how to do a family tree on this machine.  Well! I had no idea such pursuits could be so engrossing, it’s like being the heroine in a detective novel, like writing your own book in a way.

                I got off on a sidetrack with the search for one woman in particular and got I tell you I got so sucked inside the story I spent a fortnight in a small village in the north midlands two centuries ago that I had to shake me head to get back to the present for the necessary daily functions. I feel like I could write a book about that fortnight. Two hundred years explored in a fortnight in the search for CH’s mother.

                I could write a book on the maternal line and how patriarchy has failed us in the search for our ancestry and blood lines. The changing names, the census status, lack of individual occupation but a mother knows for sure who her children are. And yet we follow paternal lines because the names are easier, but mothers know for sure which child is theirs whereas men can not be as sure as that.  Barking up the wrong tree is easy done.

                I can’t start writing any of these books at the moment because I’m still trying to find out who won the SK&JH vs ALL the rest of the H family court case in 1873.  It seems the youngest son (who was an overseer with questionable accounts) was left out of the will. The executor of the will was his co plaintiff in the court case, a neighbouring land owner, and the whole rest of the family were the defendants.  It’s gripping, there are so many twists and turns. This might give us a clue why CH grew up in the B’s house instead of her own. Why did CH’s mothers keep the boys and send two girls to live with another family? How did we end up with the oil painting of CH’s mother? It’s a mystery and I’m having a whale of a time.

                Another good thing about my little adventure and then this new hobby is how, as you may have noticed, I’m not half as daft as I was when I was withering away in that place with nothing to do. I mean I know I’m withering away and not going anywhere again now,  but on the other hand I’ve just had a fortnights holiday in the nineteenth century, which is more than many can say, even if they’ve been allowed out.

                #4239

                The mechanical human powered toll booth had been one of Leroway’s brain waves, in his opinion, anyway. In order to protect the rare mushrooms and other endangered species in the forest, he had set his teams of farmbot mechanical outdoor workers to the task of building a fence around it. As they worked day and night, non stop regardless of weather, the task had been completed in a very short time, much to the surprise of anyone who was in the habit of using the paths through it. During the fortnight’s deluge of rain, not many had ventured out of their dwellings, and it was during this time that the fence was completed.

                In order to pass through the toll booths dotted around the perimeter of the forest, a foot traveler was obliged to step onto a treadmill for approximately ten minutes, and the power gained was used to operate the pumps which cleared the low lying areas of flood water, and provide lamp light along the paths for those wishing to travel or simply stroll through the woods at night.

                Leroway, in his enthusiasm and appreciation for the benefits of the recent construction, was not expecting the backlash from the people who misunderstood his intentions, and raged against the restriction and forced labour.

                “I don’t think they like it, Jolly,” Eleri said, who had decided to visit her friend when she learned that Leroway had gone down to the toll booth protest to attempt to deal with the angry mob. “It reminds them of the old days. People don’t like fences anymore.”

                “But he’s never done anything bad for the people, Eleri, everyone knows his intentions are good.”

                “The people here in Trustinghamton know that, dear, but the ones from elsewhere don’t. Perhaps he should confine his inventions to the village? They are seeing it as an infringement on their liberties from an outside force. I know, I know, such old fashioned ideas, but they do linger, especially when people are confronted with a surprise.”

                “Well, you are probably right, but what can we do? He does what he wants!”

                “Yes, he does,” replied Eleri drily, recalling her last encounter with Leroway behind the old mill.

                #3753
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Aunt Idle:

                  I dozed off while sitting under the Kurrajong tree this afternoon and had a strange dream. I was in a Tardis and it had landed on an expanse of sandy coastal scrub land. There was nobody else in the Tardis except me, and as the door swung open, I could smell the smoke, acrid and eye watering, and I could hear the snapping and crackling of the flames on the dry brush. The Tardis had landed in between the advancing flames and the sea. I ran back in the Tardis and looked around wildly at all the controls, wondering how to operate the thing. How the hell was I going to get out of here before the fire engulfed us? I ran back outside and the flames were roaring closer by the minute; panicking, I ran back inside, ran out again, and then ran as fast as I could away from the approaching fire until I came across a little blue row boat, rotting away on dry land, right next to a crumbling pyramid. I climbed into the boat, sitting on the bench seat between the dry thistles, thinking with relief that I would be safe in the boat. In the dream, I relaxed and closed my eyes and started to hum My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, and then I felt the heat, opened my eyes, and saw showers of red orange sparks like fireworks all around me, and then flames ~ I was surrounded by the wild fire and couldn’t see the Tardis anymore for the flames leaping and dancing around me. I held my head in my hands, weeping, waiting for the inevitable ~ and then I noticed a sapling growing in between the rotten boards at the bottom of the boat. It was growing so fast I forgot the sizzling heat around me and watched it grow, the side shoots bursting forth and the wood of the boat splintering as the trunk grew in girth. When a dried seed pod dropped onto my head ~ that’s how fast this tree grew, when I looked up it was fully mature, and I was sitting in the cool green shade ~ I looked around, and the sandy coastal scrub had gone, and I was sitting on a stone bench in the middle of a plaza. The smell of burning brush was gone and the stench of garum fish paste filled the air. A handsome fellow in a crumpled linen toga was sitting beside me, elbowing me to get my attention…

                  “I made you a tuna sandwich, Auntie,” Prune was saying, prodding me on the arm. “Did you know that Kurrajong trees are fire retardant plants, and they start to send out small green shoots from the trunk within a fortnight of being burnt?”

                  Well, I just looked at her, with my mouth hanging open in astonishment. Then the horrid child shoved the tuna sandwich in it, and then scampered off before I could slap her.

                  #2525

                  In reply to: Strings of Nines

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The fact of the matter was that Ann had been intending to write about Cordella’s twin sister Flagella, but had been hopelessly side tracked when Godfrey had thrown that curve ball. Flagella had been wanting to slap herself rather badly and Ann was more than willing to oblige her by entering a scenario into the Play. The way things had panned out highlighted some interesting parallels with Yoland’s current state of affairs too. Obviously Flagella had chosen not to slap herself after all, although she appeared to have chosen to effect that in a somewhat convoluted manner. It was the unknown factors that were baffling Ann, the missing links in the convoluted manners; she felt painfully aware that she simply wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

                    Unsure of her footing, that’s what it was, at least that’s what Yoland had noticed. With the puppy always climbing over her feet or somewhere underfoot, she hadn’t been able to take a normal step in a fortnight. It was making her tense and tired, and jittery. Every step she took was halted, mid step, which made her feel permanently off balance.

                    Flagella had wanted to slap herself for being irritated, which was becoming immensely irritating in itself. Being irritated wasn’t fun at all, it was irritating! The most irritating thing of all was that she didn’t know why she’d started getting irritated in the first place.

                    Ann wanted to butt in and tell Flagella a thing or two about how dense she was being, but didn’t think there was much point. It wasn’t as if Flagella hadn’t already heard whatever Ann might have to tell her a thousand times or more, so it was doubtful that more words would be any help.

                    She doesn’t need any help, full stop, Ann reminded herself, and neither does Yoland.

                    #534
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Well, to me, it was rather obvious it was a bleedthrough from one dimension to another… sighed Al, who had now half-long teal-coloured hair in perfect shape, as he was filing and shaping his nails turned back to a reasonable size.

                      Oh, that FLOYD treatment did well on you marveled Saint Tina.

                      FLOYD what?? looked back Becky, who was still fumbling into Sam’s hair, at the sound of the strange word that might have been a clue.

                      FLOYD: Focus Lots On Yourself, Dimwit that’s the name of the treatment… It’s made of extracts of Fuckus Rapidus, a new plant that has been blooping in Russian taiga recently. It had covered a whole region in a fortnight. People wondered what they could do about them, but apparently, some old crone found an interesting use for them… But we’re getting side-tracked, aren’t we?

                      Oh, this is fascinating Becky said, wondering if she would look better now with a mane of luscious raven hair on her beautiful dark-skinned head… What’s the name already? BOYF?

                      No! BOYF is the exact opposite, it’s Blame On Your Friend it’ll have all your hair and nails fall in a few days, even your pubic hair I fear… I still don’t know what’s the use of that though there might be some customers for it… :-? Al was puzzled.

                      #1931
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Crap luxury yacht link, F, can’t click on it! :yahoo_angry:
                        just kidding! I love it! :face-kiss: Can I float down with you, I may need to remember this myself over the coming fortnight :yahoo_worried:

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