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  • #7548
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Elton Marshall’s

      Early Quaker Emigrants to USA.

       

      The earliest Marshall in my tree is Charles Marshall (my 5x great grandfather), Overseer of the Poor and Churchwarden of Elton. His 1819 gravestone in Elton says he was 77 years old when he died, indicating a birth in 1742, however no baptism can be found.

      According to the Derbyshire records office, Elton was a chapelry of Youlgreave until 1866. The Youlgreave registers date back to the mid 1500s, and there are many Marshalls in the registers from 1559 onwards. The Elton registers however are incomplete due to fire damage.

      While doing a google books search for Marshall’s of Elton, I found many American family history books mentioning Abraham Marshall of Gratton born in 1667, who became a Quaker aged 16, and emigrated to Pennsylvania USA in 1700. Some of these books say that Abraham’s parents were Humphrey Marshall and his wife Hannah Turner. (Gratton is a tiny village next to Elton, also in Youlgreave parish.)

      Abraham’s son born in USA was also named Humphrey. He was a well known botanist.

      Abraham’s cousin John Marshall, also a Quaker, emigrated from Elton to USA in 1687, according to these books.

      (There are a number of books on Colonial Families in Pennsylvania that repeat each other so impossible to cite the original source)

      colonial books

       

      In the Youlgreave parish registers I found a baptism in 1667 for Humphrey Marshall son of Humphrey and Hannah. I didn’t find a baptism for Abraham, but it looks as though it could be correct. Abraham had a son he named Humphrey. But did it just look logical to whoever wrote the books, or do they know for sure? Did the famous botanist Humphrey Marshall have his own family records? The books don’t say where they got this information.

      An earlier Humphrey Marshall was baptised in Youlgreave in 1559, his father Edmund. And in 1591 another Humphrey Marshall was baptised, his father George.

      But can we connect these Marshall’s to ours? We do have an Abraham Marshall, grandson of Charles, born in 1792. The name isn’t all that common, so may indicate a family connection. The villages of Elton, Gratton and Youlgreave are all very small and it would seem very likely that the Marshall’s who went the USA are related to ours, if not brothers, then probably cousins.

       

      Derbyshire Quakers

      In “Derbyshire Quakers 1650-1761” by Helen Forde:

      “… Friends lived predominantly in the northern half of the country during this first century of existence. Numbers may have been reduced by emigration to America and migration to other parts of the country but were never high and declined in the early eighteenth century. Predominantly a middle to lower class group economically, Derbyshire Friends numbered very few wealthy members. Many were yeoman farmers or wholesalers and it was these groups who dominated the business meetings having time to devote themselves to the Society. Only John Gratton of Monyash combined an outstanding ministry together with an organising ability which brought him recognition amongst London Friends as well as locally. Derbyshire Friends enjoyed comparatively harmonious relations with civil and Anglican authorities, though prior to the Toleration Act of 1639 the priests were their worst persecutors…..”

      Also mentioned in this book: There were monthly meetings in Elton, as well as a number of other nearby places.
      John Marshall of Elton 1682/3 appears in a list of Quaker emigrants from Derbyshire.

      Quaker Emigrants

       

      The following image is a page from the 1753 book on the sufferings of Quakers by Joseph Besse as an example of some of the persecutions of Quakers in Derbyshire in the 1600s:

      A collection of the sufferings of the people called Quakers, for the testimony of a good conscience from the time of their being first distinguished by that name in the year 1650 to the time of the act commonly called the Act of toleration granted to Protestant dissenters in the first year of the reign of King William the Third and Queen Mary in the year 1689 (Volume 1)
      Besse, Joseph. 1753

      Note the names Margaret Marshall and Anne Staley.  This book would appear to contradict Helen Forde’s statement above about the harmonious relations with Anglican authority.

      Quaker Sufferings

       

       

      The Botanist

      Humphry Marshall 1722-1801 was born in Marshallton, Pennsylvania, the son of the immigrant from Elton, Abraham Marshall.  He was the cousin of botanists John Bartram and William Bartram. Like many early American botanists, he was a Quaker. He wrote his first book, A Few Observations Concerning Christ, in 1755.

      Humphry marshall book

       

      In 1785, Marshall published Arbustrum Americanum: The American Grove, an Alphabetical Catalogue of Forest Trees and Shrubs, Natives of the American United States (Philadelphia).

      Marshall has been called the “Father of American Dendrology”.

      A genus of plants, Marshallia, was named in honor of Humphry Marshall and his nephew Moses Marshall, also a botanist.

      In 1848 the Borough of West Chester established the Marshall Square Park in his honor. Marshall Square Park is four miles east of Marshallton.

      via Wikipedia.

       

      From The History of Chester County Pennsylvania, 1881, by J Smith Futhey and Gilbert Cope:

      Marshallton

       

      From The Chester Country History Center:

      “Immediately on the Receipt of your Letter, I ordered a Reflecting Telescope for you which was made accordingly. Dr. Fothergill had since desired me to add a Microscope and Thermometer, and will
      pay for the whole.’

      – Benjamin Franklin to Humphry, March 18, 1770

      “In his lifetime, Humphry Marshall made his living as a stonemason, farmer, and miller, but eventually became known for his contributions to astronomy, meteorology, agriculture, and the natural sciences.

      In 1773, Marshall built a stone house with a hothouse, a botanical laboratory, and an observatory for astronomical studies. He established an arboretum of native trees on the property and the second botanical garden in the nation (John Bartram, his cousin, had the first). From his home base, Humphry expanded his botanical plant exchange business and increased his overseas contacts. With the help of men like Benjamin Franklin and the English botanist Dr. John Fothergill, they eventually included German, Dutch, Swedish, and Irish plant collectors and scientists. Franklin, then living in London, introduced Marshall’s writings to the Royal Society in London and both men encouraged Marshall’s astronomical and botanical studies by supplying him with books and instruments including the latest telescope and microscope.

      Marshall’s scientific work earned him honorary memberships to the American Philosophical Society and the Philadelphia Society for Promoting Agriculture, where he shared his ground-breaking ideas on scientific farming methods. In the years before the American Revolution, Marshall’s correspondence was based on his extensive plant and seed exchanges, which led to further studies and publications. In 1785, he authored his magnum opus, Arbustum Americanum: The American Grove. It is a catalog of American trees and shrubs that followed the Linnaean system of plant classification and was the first publication of its kind.”

      Humphry signature

      #7546
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The Potters of Darley Bridge

        Rebecca Knowles 1745-1823, my 5x great grandmother, married Charles Marshall 1742-1819, the churchwarden of Elton, in Darley, Derbyshire, in 1767. Rebecca was born in Darley in 1745, the youngest child of Roger Knowles 1695-1784, and Martha Potter 1702?-1772.

        Although Roger and Martha were both from Darley, they were married in South Wingfield by licence in 1724. Roger’s occupation on the marriage licence was lead miner. (Lead miners in Derbyshire at that time usually mined their own land.) Jacob Potter signed the licence so I assumed that Jacob Potter was her father.

         

        marriage Roger Knowles

         

        I then found the will of Jacobi Potter who died in 1719. However, he signed the will James Potter. Jacobi is latin for James. James Potter mentioned his daughter Martha in his will “when she comes of age”. Martha was the youngest child of James. James also mentioned in his will son James AND son Jacob, so there were both James’s and Jacob’s in the family, although at times in the documents James is written as Jacobi!

         

        1720 will James Potter

         

        Jacob Potter who signed Martha’s marriage licence was her brother Jacob.

        Martha’s brother James mentioned his sister Martha Knowles in his 1739 will, as well as his brother Jacob and his brother Joseph.

         

        James Potter will

         

        Martha’s father James Potter mentions his wife Ann in his 1719 will. James Potter married Ann Waterhurst in 1690 in Wirksworth, some seven miles from Darley. James occupation was innkeeper at Darley Bridge.

        I did a search for Waterhurst (there was only a transcription available for that marriage, not a microfilm) and found no Waterhursts anywhere, but I did find many Warhursts in Derbyshire. In the older records, Warhust is also spelled Wearhurst and in a number of other ways. A Martha Warhurst died in Peak Forest, Derbyshire, in 1681.  Her husbands name was missing from the deteriorated register pages.  This may or may not be Martha Potter’s grandmother: the records for the 1600s are scanty if they exist at all, and often there are bits missing and illegible entries.

        The only inn at Darley Bridge was The Three Stags Heads, by the bridge. It is now a listed building, and was on a medieval packhorse route. The current building was built in 1736, however there is a late 17th century section at rear of the cross wing. The Three Stags Heads was up for sale for £430,000 in 2022, the closure a result of the covid pandemic.

         

        Three Stags Heads

         

        Another listed building in Darley Bridge is Potters Cottage, with a plaque above the door that says “Jonathan and Alice Potter 1763”. Jonathan Potter 1725-1785 was James grandson, the son of his son Charles Potter 1691-1752. His son Charles was also an innkeeper at Darley Bridge: James left the majority of his property to his son Charles.

         

        Charles Potter

         

        Charles is the only child of James Potter that we know the approximate date of birth, because his age was on his grave stone.  I haven’t found any of their baptisms, but did note that many Potters were baptised in non conformist registers in Chesterfield.

         

        Potters Cottage

        Potters Cottage

         

        Jonathan Potter of Potters Cottage married Alice Beeley in 1748.

        “Darley Bridge was an important packhorse route across the River Derwent. There was a packhorse route from here up to Beeley Moor via Darley Dale. A reference to this bridge appears in 1504… Not far to the north of the bridge at Darley Dale is Church Lane; in 1635 it was known as Ghost Lane after a Scottish pedlar was murdered there. Pedlars tended to be called Scottish only because they sold cheap Scottish linen.”

        via Derbyshire Heritage website.

        According to Wikipedia, the bridge dates back to the 15th century.

        #7281
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The 1935 Joseph Gerrard Challenge.

          While researching the Gerrard family of Ellastone I chanced upon a 1935 newspaper article in the Ashbourne Register. There were two articles in 1935 in this paper about the Gerrards, the second a follow up to the first. An advertisement was also placed offering a £1 reward to anyone who could find Joseph Gerrard’s baptism record.

          Ashbourne Telegraph – Friday 05 April 1935:

          1935 Ashbourne Register

           

           

          The author wanted to prove that the Joseph Gerrard “who was engaged in the library of King George the third from about 1775 to 1795, and whose death was recorded in the European Magazine in November 1799” was the son of John Gerrard of Ellastone Mills, Staffordshire. Included in the first article was a selected transcription of the 1796 will of John Gerrard. John’s son Joseph is mentioned in this will: John leaves him “£20 to buy a suit of mourning if he thinks proper.”

           

           

           

          This Joseph Gerrard however, born in 1739, died in 1815 at Brailsford. Joseph’s brother John also died at Brailsford Mill, and both of their ages at death give a birth year of 1739. Maybe they were twins. William Gerrard and Joseph Gerrard of Brailsford Mill are mentioned in a 1811 newspaper article in the Derby Mercury.

          I decided that there was nothing susbtantial about this claim, until I read the 1724 will of John Gerrard the elder, the father of John who died in 1796. In his will he leaves £100 to his son Joseph Gerrard, “secretary to the Bishop of Oxford”.

          Perhaps there was something to this story after all. Joseph, baptised in 1701 in Ellastone, was the son of John Gerrard the elder.

          I found Joseph Gerrard (and his son James Gerrard) mentioned in the Alumni Oxonienses: The Members of the University of Oxford, University of Oxford, ‎Joseph Foster, 1888. “Joseph Gerard son of John of Elleston county Stafford, pleb, Oriel Coll, matric, 30th May 1718, age 18, BA. 9th March 1721-2; of Merton Coll MA 1728.”

          In The Works of John Wesley 1735-1738, Joseph Gerrad is mentioned: “Joseph Gerard , matriculated at Oriel College 1718 , aged 18 , ordained 1727 to serve as curate of Cuddesdon , becoming rector of St. Martin’s , Oxford in 1729 , and vicar of Banbury in 1734.”

          In The History of Banbury Alfred Beesley 1842 “a visitation of smallpox occured at Banbury (Oxfordshire) in 1731 and continued until 1733.” Joseph Gerrard was the vicar of Banbury in 1734.

          According to the The History and Antiquities of the County of Buckingham George Lipscomb · 1847, Joseph Gerrard was made rector of Monks Risborough in 1738 “but he also continued to hold Stewkley until his death”.

          The Speculum of Archbishop Thomas Secker by Secker, Thomas, 1693-1768, also mentions Joseph Gerrard under Monks Risborough and adds that he “resides constantly in the Parsonage ho. except when he goes for a few days to Steukley county Bucks (Buckinghamshire)  of which he is vicar.”  Joseph’s son James Gerrard 1741-1789 is also mentioned as being a rector at Monks Risborough in 1783.

          Joseph Gerrard married Elizabeth Reynolds on 23 July 1739 in Monks Risborough, Buckinghamshire. They had five children between 1740 and 1750, including James baptised 1740 and Joseph baptised 1742.

          Joseph died in 1785 in Monks Risborough.

          So who was Joseph Gerrard of the Kings Library who died in 1799? It wasn’t Joseph’s son Joseph baptised in 1742 in Monks Risborough, because in his father’s 1785 will he mentions “my only son James”, indicating that Joseph died before that date.

          #7276
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Wood Screw Manufacturers

            The Fishers of West Bromwich.

             

            My great grandmother, Nellie Fisher, was born in 1877 in Wolverhampton.   Her father William 1834-1916 was a whitesmith, and his father William 1792-1873 was a whitesmith and master screw maker.  William’s father was Abel Fisher, wood screw maker, victualler, and according to his 1849 will, a “gentleman”.

            Nellie Fisher 1877-1956 :

            Nellie Fisher

             

            Abel Fisher was born in 1769 according to his burial document (age 81 in 1849) and on the 1841 census. Abel was a wood screw manufacturer in Wolverhampton.

            As no baptism record can be found for Abel Fisher, I read every Fisher will I could find in a 30 year period hoping to find his fathers will. I found three other Fishers who were wood screw manufacurers in neighbouring West Bromwich, which led me to assume that Abel was born in West Bromwich and related to these other Fishers.

            The wood screw making industry was a relatively new thing when Abel was born.

            “The screw was used in furniture but did not become a common woodworking fastener until efficient machine tools were developed near the end of the 18th century. The earliest record of lathe made wood screws dates to an English patent of 1760. The development of wood screws progressed from a small cottage industry in the late 18th century to a highly mechanized industry by the mid-19th century. This rapid transformation is marked by several technical innovations that help identify the time that a screw was produced. The earliest, handmade wood screws were made from hand-forged blanks. These screws were originally produced in homes and shops in and around the manufacturing centers of 18th century Europe. Individuals, families or small groups participated in the production of screw blanks and the cutting of the threads. These small operations produced screws individually, using a series of files, chisels and cutting tools to form the threads and slot the head. Screws produced by this technique can vary significantly in their shape and the thread pitch. They are most easily identified by the profusion of file marks (in many directions) over the surface. The first record regarding the industrial manufacture of wood screws is an English patent registered to Job and William Wyatt of Staffordshire in 1760.”

            Wood Screw Makers of West Bromwich:

            Edward Fisher, wood screw maker of West Bromwich, died in 1796. He mentions his wife Pheney and two underage sons in his will. Edward (whose baptism has not been found) married Pheney Mallin on 13 April 1793. Pheney was 17 years old, born in 1776. Her parents were Isaac Mallin and Sarah Firme, who were married in West Bromwich in 1768.
            Edward and Pheney’s son Edward was born on 21 October 1793, and their son Isaac in 1795. The executors of Edwards 1796 will are Daniel Fisher the Younger, Isaac Mallin, and Joseph Fisher.

            There is a marriage allegations and bonds document in 1774 for an Edward Fisher, bachelor and wood screw maker of West Bromwich, aged 25 years and upwards, and Mary Mallin of the same age, father Isaac Mallin. Isaac Mallin and Sarah didn’t marry until 1768 and Mary Mallin would have been born circa 1749. Perhaps Isaac Mallin’s father was the father of Mary Mallin. It’s possible that Edward Fisher was born in 1749 and first married Mary Mallin, and then later Pheney, but it’s also possible that the Edward Fisher who married Mary Mallin in 1774 was Edward Fishers uncle, Daniel’s brother.  (I do not know if Daniel had a brother Edward, as I haven’t found a baptism, or marriage, for Daniel Fisher the elder.)

            There are two difficulties with finding the records for these West Bromwich families. One is that the West Bromwich registers are not available online in their entirety, and are held by the Sandwell Archives, and even so, they are incomplete. Not only that, the Fishers were non conformist. There is no surviving register prior to 1787. The chapel opened in 1788, and any registers that existed before this date, taken in a meeting houses for example, appear not to have survived.

            Daniel Fisher the younger died intestate in 1818. Daniel was a wood screw maker of West Bromwich. He was born in 1751 according to his age stated as 67 on his death in 1818. Daniel’s wife Mary, and his son William Fisher, also a wood screw maker, claimed the estate.

            Daniel Fisher the elder was a farmer of West Bromwich, who died in 1806. He was 81 when he died, which makes a birth date of 1725, although no baptism has been found. No marriage has been found either, but he was probably married not earlier than 1746.

            Daniel’s sons Daniel and Joseph were the main inheritors, and he also mentions his other children and grandchildren namely William Fisher, Thomas Fisher, Hannah wife of William Hadley, two grandchildren Edward and Isaac Fisher sons of Edward Fisher his son deceased. Daniel the elder presumably refers to the wood screw manufacturing when he says “to my son Daniel Fisher the good will and advantage which may arise from his manufacture or trade now carried on by me.” Daniel does not mention a son called Abel unfortunately, but neither does he mention his other grandchildren. Abel may be Daniel’s son, or he may be a nephew.

            The Staffordshire Record Office holds the documents of a Testamentary Case in 1817. The principal people are Isaac Fisher, a legatee; Daniel and Joseph Fisher, executors. Principal place, West Bromwich, and deceased person, Daniel Fisher the elder, farmer.

            William and Sarah Fisher baptised six children in the Mares Green Non Conformist registers in West Bromwich between 1786 and 1798. William Fisher and Sarah Birch were married in West Bromwich in 1777. This William was probably born circa 1753 and was probably the son of Daniel Fisher the elder, farmer.

             

            Daniel Fisher the younger and his wife Mary had a son William, as mentioned in the intestacy papers, although I have not found a baptism for William.  I did find a baptism for another son, Eutychus Fisher in 1792.

            In White’s Directory of Staffordshire in 1834, there are three Fishers who are wood screw makers in Wolverhampton: Eutychus Fisher, Oxford Street; Stephen Fisher, Bloomsbury; and William Fisher, Oxford Street.

            Abel’s son William Fisher 1792-1873 was living on Oxford Street on the 1841 census, with his wife Mary  and their son William Fisher 1834-1916.

             

            In The European Magazine, and London Review of 1820  (Volume 77 – Page 564) under List of Patents, W Fisher and H Fisher of West Bromwich, wood screw manufacturers, are listed.  Also in 1820 in the Birmingham Chronicle, the partnership of William and Hannah Fisher, wood screw manufacturers of West Bromwich, was dissolved.

             

            In the Staffordshire General & Commercial Directory 1818, by W. Parson, three Fisher’s are listed as wood screw makers.  Abel Fisher victualler and wood screw maker, Red Lion, Walsal Road; Stephen Fisher wood screw maker, Buggans Lane; and Daniel Fisher wood screw manufacturer, Brickiln Lane.

             

            In Aris’s Birmingham Gazette on 4 January 1819 Abel Fisher is listed with 23 other wood screw manufacturers (Stephen Fisher and William Fisher included) stating that “In consequence of the rise in prices of iron and the advanced price given to journeymen screw forgers, we the undersigned manufacturers of wood screws are under the necessity of advancing screws 10 percent, to take place on the 11th january 1819.”

            Abel Fisher wood screws

             

            In Abel Fisher’s 1849 will, he names his three sons Abel Fisher 1796-1869, Paul Fisher 1811-1900 and John Southall Fisher 1801-1871 as the executors.  He also mentions his other three sons, William Fisher 1792-1873, Benjamin Fisher 1798-1870, and Joseph Fisher 1803-1876, and daughters Sarah Fisher  1794-  wife of William Colbourne, Mary Fisher  1804-  wife of Thomas Pearce, and Susannah (Hannah) Fisher  1813-  wife of Parkes.  His son Silas Fisher 1809-1837 wasn’t mentioned as he died before Abel, nor his sons John Fisher  1799-1800, and Edward Southall Fisher 1806-1843.  Abel’s wife Susannah Southall born in 1771 died in 1824.  They were married in 1791.

            The 1849 will of Abel Fisher:

            Abel Fisher 1849 will

            #6350
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Transportation

              Isaac Stokes 1804-1877

               

              Isaac was born in Churchill, Oxfordshire in 1804, and was the youngest brother of my 4X great grandfather Thomas Stokes. The Stokes family were stone masons for generations in Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire, and Isaac’s occupation was a mason’s labourer in 1834 when he was sentenced at the Lent Assizes in Oxford to fourteen years transportation for stealing tools.

              Churchill where the Stokes stonemasons came from: on 31 July 1684 a fire destroyed 20 houses and many other buildings, and killed four people. The village was rebuilt higher up the hill, with stone houses instead of the old timber-framed and thatched cottages. The fire was apparently caused by a baker who, to avoid chimney tax, had knocked through the wall from her oven to her neighbour’s chimney.

              Isaac stole a pick axe, the value of 2 shillings and the property of Thomas Joyner of Churchill; a kibbeaux and a trowel value 3 shillings the property of Thomas Symms; a hammer and axe value 5 shillings, property of John Keen of Sarsden.

              (The word kibbeaux seems to only exists in relation to Isaac Stokes sentence and whoever was the first to write it was perhaps being creative with the spelling of a kibbo, a miners or a metal bucket. This spelling is repeated in the criminal reports and the newspaper articles about Isaac, but nowhere else).

              In March 1834 the Removal of Convicts was announced in the Oxford University and City Herald: Isaac Stokes and several other prisoners were removed from the Oxford county gaol to the Justitia hulk at Woolwich “persuant to their sentences of transportation at our Lent Assizes”.

              via digitalpanopticon:

              Hulks were decommissioned (and often unseaworthy) ships that were moored in rivers and estuaries and refitted to become floating prisons. The outbreak of war in America in 1775 meant that it was no longer possible to transport British convicts there. Transportation as a form of punishment had started in the late seventeenth century, and following the Transportation Act of 1718, some 44,000 British convicts were sent to the American colonies. The end of this punishment presented a major problem for the authorities in London, since in the decade before 1775, two-thirds of convicts at the Old Bailey received a sentence of transportation – on average 283 convicts a year. As a result, London’s prisons quickly filled to overflowing with convicted prisoners who were sentenced to transportation but had no place to go.

              To increase London’s prison capacity, in 1776 Parliament passed the “Hulks Act” (16 Geo III, c.43). Although overseen by local justices of the peace, the hulks were to be directly managed and maintained by private contractors. The first contract to run a hulk was awarded to Duncan Campbell, a former transportation contractor. In August 1776, the Justicia, a former transportation ship moored in the River Thames, became the first prison hulk. This ship soon became full and Campbell quickly introduced a number of other hulks in London; by 1778 the fleet of hulks on the Thames held 510 prisoners.
              Demand was so great that new hulks were introduced across the country. There were hulks located at Deptford, Chatham, Woolwich, Gosport, Plymouth, Portsmouth, Sheerness and Cork.

              The Justitia via rmg collections:

              Justitia

              Convicts perform hard labour at the Woolwich Warren. The hulk on the river is the ‘Justitia’. Prisoners were kept on board such ships for months awaiting deportation to Australia. The ‘Justitia’ was a 260 ton prison hulk that had been originally moored in the Thames when the American War of Independence put a stop to the transportation of criminals to the former colonies. The ‘Justitia’ belonged to the shipowner Duncan Campbell, who was the Government contractor who organized the prison-hulk system at that time. Campbell was subsequently involved in the shipping of convicts to the penal colony at Botany Bay (in fact Port Jackson, later Sydney, just to the north) in New South Wales, the ‘first fleet’ going out in 1788.

               

              While searching for records for Isaac Stokes I discovered that another Isaac Stokes was transported to New South Wales in 1835 as well. The other one was a butcher born in 1809, sentenced in London for seven years, and he sailed on the Mary Ann. Our Isaac Stokes sailed on the Lady Nugent, arriving in NSW in April 1835, having set sail from England in December 1834.

              Lady Nugent was built at Bombay in 1813. She made four voyages under contract to the British East India Company (EIC). She then made two voyages transporting convicts to Australia, one to New South Wales and one to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania). (via Wikipedia)

              via freesettlerorfelon website:

              On 20 November 1834, 100 male convicts were transferred to the Lady Nugent from the Justitia Hulk and 60 from the Ganymede Hulk at Woolwich, all in apparent good health. The Lady Nugent departed Sheerness on 4 December 1834.

              SURGEON OLIVER SPROULE

              Oliver Sproule kept a Medical Journal from 7 November 1834 to 27 April 1835. He recorded in his journal the weather conditions they experienced in the first two weeks:

              ‘In the course of the first week or ten days at sea, there were eight or nine on the sick list with catarrhal affections and one with dropsy which I attribute to the cold and wet we experienced during that period beating down channel. Indeed the foremost berths in the prison at this time were so wet from leaking in that part of the ship, that I was obliged to issue dry beds and bedding to a great many of the prisoners to preserve their health, but after crossing the Bay of Biscay the weather became fine and we got the damp beds and blankets dried, the leaks partially stopped and the prison well aired and ventilated which, I am happy to say soon manifested a favourable change in the health and appearance of the men.

              Besides the cases given in the journal I had a great many others to treat, some of them similar to those mentioned but the greater part consisted of boils, scalds, and contusions which would not only be too tedious to enter but I fear would be irksome to the reader. There were four births on board during the passage which did well, therefore I did not consider it necessary to give a detailed account of them in my journal the more especially as they were all favourable cases.

              Regularity and cleanliness in the prison, free ventilation and as far as possible dry decks turning all the prisoners up in fine weather as we were lucky enough to have two musicians amongst the convicts, dancing was tolerated every afternoon, strict attention to personal cleanliness and also to the cooking of their victuals with regular hours for their meals, were the only prophylactic means used on this occasion, which I found to answer my expectations to the utmost extent in as much as there was not a single case of contagious or infectious nature during the whole passage with the exception of a few cases of psora which soon yielded to the usual treatment. A few cases of scurvy however appeared on board at rather an early period which I can attribute to nothing else but the wet and hardships the prisoners endured during the first three or four weeks of the passage. I was prompt in my treatment of these cases and they got well, but before we arrived at Sydney I had about thirty others to treat.’

              The Lady Nugent arrived in Port Jackson on 9 April 1835 with 284 male prisoners. Two men had died at sea. The prisoners were landed on 27th April 1835 and marched to Hyde Park Barracks prior to being assigned. Ten were under the age of 14 years.

              The Lady Nugent:

              Lady Nugent

               

              Isaac’s distinguishing marks are noted on various criminal registers and record books:

              “Height in feet & inches: 5 4; Complexion: Ruddy; Hair: Light brown; Eyes: Hazel; Marks or Scars: Yes [including] DEVIL on lower left arm, TSIS back of left hand, WS lower right arm, MHDW back of right hand.”

              Another includes more detail about Isaac’s tattoos:

              “Two slight scars right side of mouth, 2 moles above right breast, figure of the devil and DEVIL and raised mole, lower left arm; anchor, seven dots half moon, TSIS and cross, back of left hand; a mallet, door post, A, mans bust, sun, WS, lower right arm; woman, MHDW and shut knife, back of right hand.”

               

              Lady Nugent record book

               

              From How tattoos became fashionable in Victorian England (2019 article in TheConversation by Robert Shoemaker and Zoe Alkar):

              “Historical tattooing was not restricted to sailors, soldiers and convicts, but was a growing and accepted phenomenon in Victorian England. Tattoos provide an important window into the lives of those who typically left no written records of their own. As a form of “history from below”, they give us a fleeting but intriguing understanding of the identities and emotions of ordinary people in the past.
              As a practice for which typically the only record is the body itself, few systematic records survive before the advent of photography. One exception to this is the written descriptions of tattoos (and even the occasional sketch) that were kept of institutionalised people forced to submit to the recording of information about their bodies as a means of identifying them. This particularly applies to three groups – criminal convicts, soldiers and sailors. Of these, the convict records are the most voluminous and systematic.
              Such records were first kept in large numbers for those who were transported to Australia from 1788 (since Australia was then an open prison) as the authorities needed some means of keeping track of them.”

              On the 1837 census Isaac was working for the government at Illiwarra, New South Wales. This record states that he arrived on the Lady Nugent in 1835. There are three other indent records for an Isaac Stokes in the following years, but the transcriptions don’t provide enough information to determine which Isaac Stokes it was. In April 1837 there was an abscondment, and an arrest/apprehension in May of that year, and in 1843 there was a record of convict indulgences.

              From the Australian government website regarding “convict indulgences”:

              “By the mid-1830s only six per cent of convicts were locked up. The vast majority worked for the government or free settlers and, with good behaviour, could earn a ticket of leave, conditional pardon or and even an absolute pardon. While under such orders convicts could earn their own living.”

               

              In 1856 in Camden, NSW, Isaac Stokes married Catherine Daly. With no further information on this record it would be impossible to know for sure if this was the right Isaac Stokes. This couple had six children, all in the Camden area, but none of the records provided enough information. No occupation or place or date of birth recorded for Isaac Stokes.

              I wrote to the National Library of Australia about the marriage record, and their reply was a surprise! Issac and Catherine were married on 30 September 1856, at the house of the Rev. Charles William Rigg, a Methodist minister, and it was recorded that Isaac was born in Edinburgh in 1821, to parents James Stokes and Sarah Ellis!  The age at the time of the marriage doesn’t match Isaac’s age at death in 1877, and clearly the place of birth and parents didn’t match either. Only his fathers occupation of stone mason was correct.  I wrote back to the helpful people at the library and they replied that the register was in a very poor condition and that only two and a half entries had survived at all, and that Isaac and Catherines marriage was recorded over two pages.

              I searched for an Isaac Stokes born in 1821 in Edinburgh on the Scotland government website (and on all the other genealogy records sites) and didn’t find it. In fact Stokes was a very uncommon name in Scotland at the time. I also searched Australian immigration and other records for another Isaac Stokes born in Scotland or born in 1821, and found nothing.  I was unable to find a single record to corroborate this mysterious other Isaac Stokes.

              As the age at death in 1877 was correct, I assume that either Isaac was lying, or that some mistake was made either on the register at the home of the Methodist minster, or a subsequent mistranscription or muddle on the remnants of the surviving register.  Therefore I remain convinced that the Camden stonemason Isaac Stokes was indeed our Isaac from Oxfordshire.

               

              I found a history society newsletter article that mentioned Isaac Stokes, stone mason, had built the Glenmore church, near Camden, in 1859.

              Glenmore Church

               

              From the Wollondilly museum April 2020 newsletter:

              Glenmore Church Stokes

               

              From the Camden History website:

              “The stone set over the porch of Glenmore Church gives the date of 1860. The church was begun in 1859 on land given by Joseph Moore. James Rogers of Picton was given the contract to build and local builder, Mr. Stokes, carried out the work. Elizabeth Moore, wife of Edward, laid the foundation stone. The first service was held on 19th March 1860. The cemetery alongside the church contains the headstones and memorials of the areas early pioneers.”

               

              Isaac died on the 3rd September 1877. The inquest report puts his place of death as Bagdelly, near to Camden, and another death register has put Cambelltown, also very close to Camden.  His age was recorded as 71 and the inquest report states his cause of death was “rupture of one of the large pulmonary vessels of the lung”.  His wife Catherine died in childbirth in 1870 at the age of 43.

               

              Isaac and Catherine’s children:

              William Stokes 1857-1928

              Catherine Stokes 1859-1846

              Sarah Josephine Stokes 1861-1931

              Ellen Stokes 1863-1932

              Rosanna Stokes 1865-1919

              Louisa Stokes 1868-1844.

               

              It’s possible that Catherine Daly was a transported convict from Ireland.

               

              Some time later I unexpectedly received a follow up email from The Oaks Heritage Centre in Australia.

              “The Gaudry papers which we have in our archive record him (Isaac Stokes) as having built: the church, the school and the teachers residence.  Isaac is recorded in the General return of convicts: 1837 and in Grevilles Post Office directory 1872 as a mason in Glenmore.”

              Isaac Stokes directory

              #6345
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Crime and Punishment in Tetbury

                 

                I noticed that there were quite a number of Brownings of Tetbury in the newspaper archives involved in criminal activities while doing a routine newspaper search to supplement the information in the usual ancestry records. I expanded the tree to include cousins, and offsping of cousins, in order to work out who was who and how, if at all, these individuals related to our Browning family.

                I was expecting to find some of our Brownings involved in the Swing Riots in Tetbury in 1830, but did not. Most of our Brownings (including cousins) were stone masons. Most of the rioters in 1830 were agricultural labourers.

                The Browning crimes are varied, and by todays standards, not for the most part terribly serious ~ you would be unlikely to receive a sentence of hard labour for being found in an outhouse with the intent to commit an unlawful act nowadays, or for being drunk.

                The central character in this chapter is Isaac Browning (my 4x great grandfather), who did not appear in any criminal registers, but the following individuals can be identified in the family structure through their relationship to him.

                 

                RICHARD LOCK BROWNING born in 1853 was Isaac’s grandson, his son George’s son. Richard was a mason. In 1879 he and Henry Browning of the same age were sentenced to one month hard labour for stealing two pigeons in Tetbury. Henry Browning was Isaac’s nephews son.
                In 1883 Richard Browning, mason of Tetbury, was charged with obtaining food and lodging under false pretences, but was found not guilty and acquitted.
                In 1884 Richard Browning, mason of Tetbury, was sentenced to one month hard labour for game trespass.

                Richard had been fined a number of times in Tetbury:

                Richard Browning

                Richard Lock Browning was five feet eight inches tall, dark hair, grey eyes, an oval face and a dark complexion. He had two cuts on the back of his head (in February 1879) and a scar on his right eyebrow.

                 

                HENRY BROWNING, who was stealing pigeons with Richard Lock Browning in 1879, (Isaac’s brother Williams grandson, son of George Browning and his wife Charity) was charged with being drunk in 1882 and ordered to pay a fine of one shilling and costs of fourteen shillings, or seven days hard labour.

                Henry was found guilty of gaming in the highway at Tetbury in 1872 and was sentenced to seven days hard labour. In 1882 Henry (who was also a mason) was charged with assault but discharged.
                Henry was five feet five inches tall, brown hair and brown eyes, a long visage and a fresh complexion.
                Henry emigrated with his daughter to Canada in 1913, and died in Vancouver in 1919.

                 

                THOMAS BUCKINGHAM 1808-1846 (Isaacs daughter Janes husband) was charged with stealing a black gelding in Tetbury in 1838. No true bill. (A “no true bill” means the jury did not find probable cause to continue a case.)

                Thomas did however neglect to pay his taxes in 1832:

                Thomas Buckingham

                 

                LEWIN BUCKINGHAM (grandson of Isaac, his daughter Jane’s son) was found guilty in 1846 stealing two fowls in Tetbury when he was sixteen years old.
                In 1846 he was sentence to one month hard labour (or pay ten shillings fine and ten shillings costs) for loitering with the intent to trespass in search of conies.
                A year later in 1847, he and three other young men were sentenced to four months hard labour for larceny.
                Lewin was five feet three inches tall, with brown hair and brown eyes, long visage, sallow complexion, and had a scar on his left arm.

                 

                JOHN BUCKINGHAM born circa 1832, a Tetbury labourer (Isaac’s grandson, Lewin’s brother) was sentenced to six weeks hard labour for larceny in 1855 for stealing a duck in Cirencester. The notes on the register mention that he had been employed by Mr LOCK, Angel Inn. (John’s grandmother was Mary Lock so this is likely a relative).

                John Buckingham

                 

                The previous year in 1854 John was sentenced to one month or a one pound fine for assaulting and beating W. Wood.
                John was five feet eight and three quarter inches tall, light brown hair and grey eyes, an oval visage and a fresh complexion. He had a scar on his left arm and inside his right knee.

                 

                JOSEPH PERRET was born circa 1831 and he was a Tetbury labourer. (He was Isaac’s granddaughter Charlotte Buckingham’s husband)
                In 1855 he assaulted William Wood and was sentenced to one month or a two pound ten shilling fine. Was it the same W Wood that his wifes cousin John assaulted the year before?
                In 1869 Joseph was sentenced to one month hard labour for feloniously receiving a cupboard known to be stolen.

                 

                JAMES BUCKINGAM born circa 1822 in Tetbury was a shoemaker. (Isaac’s nephew, his sister Hannah’s son)
                In 1854 the Tetbury shoemaker was sentenced to four months hard labour for stealing 30 lbs of lead off someones house.
                In 1856 the Tetbury shoemaker received two months hard labour or pay £2 fine and 12 s costs for being found in pursuit of game.
                In 1868 he was sentenced to two months hard labour for stealing a gander. A unspecified previous conviction is noted.
                1871 the Tetbury shoemaker was found in an outhouse for an unlawful purpose and received ten days hard labour. The register notes that his sister is Mrs Cook, the Green, Tetbury. (James sister Prudence married Thomas Cook)
                James sister Charlotte married a shoemaker and moved to UTAH.
                James was five feet eight inches tall, dark hair and blue eyes, a long visage and a florid complexion. He had a scar on his forehead and a mole on the right side of his neck and abdomen, and a scar on the right knee.

                #6334
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The House on Penn Common

                  Toi Fang and the Duke of Sutherland

                   

                  Tomlinsons

                   

                   

                  Penn Common

                  Grassholme

                   

                  Charles Tomlinson (1873-1929) my great grandfather, was born in Wolverhampton in 1873. His father Charles Tomlinson (1847-1907) was a licensed victualler or publican, or alternatively a vet/castrator. He married Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) in 1872. On the 1881 census they were living at The Wheel in Wolverhampton.

                  Charles married Nellie Fisher (1877-1956) in Wolverhampton in 1896. In 1901 they were living next to the post office in Upper Penn, with children (Charles) Sidney Tomlinson (1896-1955), and Hilda Tomlinson (1898-1977) . Charles was a vet/castrator working on his own account.

                  In 1911 their address was 4, Wakely Hill, Penn, and living with them were their children Hilda, Frank Tomlinson (1901-1975), (Dorothy) Phyllis Tomlinson (1905-1982), Nellie Tomlinson (1906-1978) and May Tomlinson (1910-1983). Charles was a castrator working on his own account.

                  Charles and Nellie had a further four children: Charles Fisher Tomlinson (1911-1977), Margaret Tomlinson (1913-1989) (my grandmother Peggy), Major Tomlinson (1916-1984) and Norah Mary Tomlinson (1919-2010).

                  My father told me that my grandmother had fallen down the well at the house on Penn Common in 1915 when she was two years old, and sent me a photo of her standing next to the well when she revisted the house at a much later date.

                  Peggy next to the well on Penn Common:

                  Peggy well Penn

                   

                  My grandmother Peggy told me that her father had had a racehorse called Toi Fang. She remembered the racing colours were sky blue and orange, and had a set of racing silks made which she sent to my father.
                  Through a DNA match, I met Ian Tomlinson. Ian is the son of my fathers favourite cousin Roger, Frank’s son. Ian found some racing silks and sent a photo to my father (they are now in contact with each other as a result of my DNA match with Ian), wondering what they were.

                  Toi Fang

                   

                  When Ian sent a photo of these racing silks, I had a look in the newspaper archives. In 1920 there are a number of mentions in the racing news of Mr C Tomlinson’s horse TOI FANG. I have not found any mention of Toi Fang in the newspapers in the following years.

                  The Scotsman – Monday 12 July 1920:

                  Toi Fang

                   

                   

                  The other story that Ian Tomlinson recalled was about the house on Penn Common. Ian said he’d heard that the local titled person took Charles Tomlinson to court over building the house but that Tomlinson won the case because it was built on common land and was the first case of it’s kind.

                  Penn Common

                   

                  Penn Common Right of Way Case:
                  Staffordshire Advertiser March 9, 1912

                  In the chancery division, on Tuesday, before Mr Justice Joyce, it was announced that a settlement had been arrived at of the Penn Common Right of Way case, the hearing of which occupied several days last month. The action was brought by the Duke of Sutherland (as Lord of the Manor of Penn) and Mr Harry Sydney Pitt (on behalf of himself and other freeholders of the manor having a right to pasturage on Penn Common) to restrain Mr James Lakin, Carlton House, Penn; Mr Charles Tomlinson, Mayfield Villa, Wakely Hill, Penn; and Mr Joseph Harold Simpkin, Dudley Road, Wolverhampton, from drawing building materials across the common, or otherwise causing injury to the soil.

                  The real point in dispute was whether there was a public highway for all purposes running by the side of the defendants land from the Turf Tavern past the golf club to the Barley Mow.
                  Mr Hughes, KC for the plaintiffs, now stated that the parties had been in consultation, and had come to terms, the substance of which was that the defendants admitted that there was no public right of way, and that they were granted a private way. This, he thought, would involve the granting of some deed or deeds to express the rights of the parties, and he suggested that the documents should be be settled by some counsel to be mutually agreed upon.

                  His lordship observed that the question of coal was probably the important point. Mr Younger said Mr Tomlinson was a freeholder, and the plaintiffs could not mine under him. Mr Hughes: The coal actually under his house is his, and, of course, subsidence might be produced by taking away coal some distance away. I think some document is required to determine his actual rights.
                  Mr Younger said he wanted to avoid anything that would increase the costs, but, after further discussion, it was agreed that Mr John Dixon (an expert on mineral rights), or failing him, another counsel satisfactory to both parties, should be invited to settle the terms scheduled in the agreement, in order to prevent any further dispute.

                   

                  Penn Common case

                   

                  The name of the house is Grassholme.  The address of Mayfield Villas is the house they were living in while building Grassholme, which I assume they had not yet moved in to at the time of the newspaper article in March 1912.

                   

                   

                  What my grandmother didn’t tell anyone was how her father died in 1929:

                   

                  1929 Charles Tomlinson

                   

                   

                  On the 1921 census, Charles, Nellie and eight of their children were living at 269 Coleman Street, Wolverhampton.

                  1921 census Tomlinson

                   

                   

                  They were living on Coleman Street in 1915 when Charles was fined for staying open late.

                  Staffordshire Advertiser – Saturday 13 February 1915:

                   

                  1915 butcher fined

                   

                  What is not yet clear is why they moved from the house on Penn Common sometime between 1912 and 1915. And why did he have a racehorse in 1920?

                  #6331
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Whitesmiths of Baker Street

                    The Fishers of Wolverhampton

                     

                    My fathers mother was Margaret Tomlinson born in 1913, the youngest but one daughter of Charles Tomlinson and Nellie Fisher of Wolverhampton.

                    Nellie Fisher was born in 1877. Her parents were William Fisher and Mary Ann Smith.

                    William Fisher born in 1834 was a whitesmith on Baker St on the 1881 census; Nellie was 3 years old. Nellie was his youngest daughter.

                    William was a whitesmith (or screw maker) on all of the censuses but in 1901 whitesmith was written for occupation, then crossed out and publican written on top. This was on Duke St, so I searched for William Fisher licensee on longpull black country pubs website and he was licensee of The Old Miners Arms on Duke St in 1896. The pub closed in 1906 and no longer exists. He was 67 in 1901 and just he and wife Mary Ann were at that address.

                    In 1911 he was a widower living alone in Upper Penn. Nellie and Charles Tomlinson were also living in Upper Penn on the 1911 census, and my grandmother was born there in 1913.

                    William’s father William Fisher born in 1792, Nellie’s grandfather, was a whitesmith on Baker St on the 1861 census employing 4 boys, 2 men, 3 girls. He died in 1873.

                    1873 William Fisher

                     

                     

                    William Fisher the elder appears in a number of directories including this one:

                    1851 Melville & Co´s Directory of Wolverhampton

                    William Fisher whitesmith

                     

                    I noticed that all the other ancestry trees (as did my fathers cousin on the Tomlinson side) had MARY LUNN from Birmingham in Warwickshire marrying William Fisher the elder in 1828. But on ALL of the censuses, Mary’s place of birth was Staffordshire, and on one it said Bilston. I found another William Fisher and Mary marriage in Sedgley in 1829, MARY PITT.
                    You can order a birth certificate from the records office with mothers maiden name on, but only after 1837. So I looked for Williams younger brother Joseph, born 1845. His mothers maiden name was Pitt.

                     

                    Pitt MMN

                    #6306
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Looking for Robert Staley

                       

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

                      Marriage of John Staley and Jane Brothers in 1820:

                      1820 marriage Armagh

                       

                       

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      fire engine

                       

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

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

                       

                      Looking for Robert Staley

                       

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

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

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

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

                       

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      The marriage of Robert Staley and Elizabeth Milner in 1735:

                      rbt staley marriage 1735

                       

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

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

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

                      The Marsden Connection

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

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

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

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

                      by
                      David Dalrymple-Smith

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

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

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

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

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

                       

                      The 1795 will of Robert Staley.

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

                      The will of Robert Staley, 1795:

                      1795 will 2

                      1795 Rbt Staley will

                       

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                       

                      #6305
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        The Hair’s and Leedham’s of Netherseal

                         

                        Samuel Warren of Stapenhill married Catherine Holland of Barton under Needwood in 1795. Catherine’s father was Thomas Holland; her mother was Hannah Hair.

                        Hannah was born in Netherseal, Derbyshire, in 1739. Her parents were Joseph Hair 1696-1746 and Hannah.
                        Joseph’s parents were Isaac Hair and Elizabeth Leedham.  Elizabeth was born in Netherseal in 1665.  Isaac and Elizabeth were married in Netherseal in 1686.

                        Marriage of Isaac Hair and Elizabeth Leedham: (variously spelled Ledom, Leedom, Leedham, and in one case mistranscribed as Sedom):

                         

                        1686 marriage Nicholas Leedham

                         

                        Isaac was buried in Netherseal on 14 August 1709 (the transcript says the 18th, but the microfiche image clearly says the 14th), but I have not been able to find a birth registered for him. On other public trees on an ancestry website, Isaac Le Haire was baptised in Canterbury and was a Huguenot, but I haven’t found any evidence to support this.

                        Isaac Hair’s death registered 14 August 1709 in Netherseal:

                        Isaac Hair death 1709

                         

                        A search for the etymology of the surname Hair brings various suggestions, including:

                        “This surname is derived from a nickname. ‘the hare,’ probably affixed on some one fleet of foot. Naturally looked upon as a complimentary sobriquet, and retained in the family; compare Lightfoot. (for example) Hugh le Hare, Oxfordshire, 1273. Hundred Rolls.”

                        From this we may deduce that the name Hair (or Hare) is not necessarily from the French Le Haire, and existed in England for some considerable time before the arrival of the Huguenots.

                        Elizabeth Leedham was born in Netherseal in 1665. Her parents were Nicholas Leedham 1621-1670 and Dorothy. Nicholas Leedham was born in Church Gresley (Swadlincote) in 1621, and died in Netherseal in 1670.

                        Nicholas was a Yeoman and left a will and inventory worth £147.14s.8d (one hundred and forty seven pounds fourteen shillings and eight pence).

                        The 1670 inventory of Nicholas Leedham:

                        1670 will Nicholas Leedham

                         

                        According to local historian Mark Knight on the Netherseal History facebook group, the Seale (Netherseal and Overseal)  parish registers from the year 1563 to 1724 were digitized during lockdown.

                        via Mark Knight:

                        “There are five entries for Nicholas Leedham.
                        On March 14th 1646 he and his wife buried an unnamed child, presumably the child died during childbirth or was stillborn.
                        On November 28th 1659 he buried his wife, Elizabeth. He remarried as on June 13th 1664 he had his son William baptised.
                        The following year, 1665, he baptised a daughter on November 12th. (Elizabeth) On December 23rd 1672 the parish record says that Dorithy daughter of Dorithy was buried. The Bishops Transcript has Dorithy a daughter of Nicholas. Nicholas’ second wife was called Dorithy and they named a daughter after her. Alas, the daughter died two years after Nicholas. No further Leedhams appear in the record until after 1724.”

                        Dorothy daughter of Dorothy Leedham was buried 23 December 1672:

                        Dorothy

                         

                         

                        William, son of Nicholas and Dorothy also left a will. In it he mentions “My dear wife Elizabeth. My children Thomas Leedom, Dorothy Leedom , Ann Leedom, Christopher Leedom and William Leedom.”

                        1726 will of William Leedham:

                        1726 will William Leedham

                         

                        I found a curious error with the the parish register entries for Hannah Hair. It was a transcription error, but not a recent one. The original parish registers were copied: “HO Copy of ye register of Seale anno 1739.” I’m not sure when the copy was made, but it wasn’t recently. I found a burial for Hannah Hair on 22 April 1739 in the HO copy, which was the same day as her baptism registered on the original. I checked both registers name by name and they are exactly copied EXCEPT for Hannah Hairs. The rector, Richard Inge, put burial instead of baptism by mistake.

                        The original Parish register baptism of Hannah Hair:

                        Hannah Hair 1

                         

                        The HO register copy incorrectly copied:

                        Hannah Hair 2

                        #6290
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Leicestershire Blacksmiths

                          The Orgill’s of Measham led me further into Leicestershire as I traveled back in time.

                          I also realized I had uncovered a direct line of women and their mothers going back ten generations:

                          myself, Tracy Edwards 1957-
                          my mother Gillian Marshall 1933-
                          my grandmother Florence Warren 1906-1988
                          her mother and my great grandmother Florence Gretton 1881-1927
                          her mother Sarah Orgill 1840-1910
                          her mother Elizabeth Orgill 1803-1876
                          her mother Sarah Boss 1783-1847
                          her mother Elizabeth Page 1749-
                          her mother Mary Potter 1719-1780
                          and her mother and my 7x great grandmother Mary 1680-

                          You could say it leads us to the very heart of England, as these Leicestershire villages are as far from the coast as it’s possible to be. There are countless other maternal lines to follow, of course, but only one of mothers of mothers, and ours takes us to Leicestershire.

                          The blacksmiths

                          Sarah Boss was the daughter of Michael Boss 1755-1807, a blacksmith in Measham, and Elizabeth Page of nearby Hartshorn, just over the county border in Derbyshire.

                          An earlier Michael Boss, a blacksmith of Measham, died in 1772, and in his will he left the possession of the blacksmiths shop and all the working tools and a third of the household furniture to Michael, who he named as his nephew. He left his house in Appleby Magna to his wife Grace, and five pounds to his mother Jane Boss. As none of Michael and Grace’s children are mentioned in the will, perhaps it can be assumed that they were childless.

                          The will of Michael Boss, 1772, Measham:

                          Michael Boss 1772 will

                           

                          Michael Boss the uncle was born in Appleby Magna in 1724. His parents were Michael Boss of Nelson in the Thistles and Jane Peircivall of Appleby Magna, who were married in nearby Mancetter in 1720.

                          Information worth noting on the Appleby Magna website:

                          In 1752 the calendar in England was changed from the Julian Calendar to the Gregorian Calendar, as a result 11 days were famously “lost”. But for the recording of Church Registers another very significant change also took place, the start of the year was moved from March 25th to our more familiar January 1st.
                          Before 1752 the 1st day of each new year was March 25th, Lady Day (a significant date in the Christian calendar). The year number which we all now use for calculating ages didn’t change until March 25th. So, for example, the day after March 24th 1750 was March 25th 1751, and January 1743 followed December 1743.
                          This March to March recording can be seen very clearly in the Appleby Registers before 1752. Between 1752 and 1768 there appears slightly confused recording, so dates should be carefully checked. After 1768 the recording is more fully by the modern calendar year.

                          Michael Boss the uncle married Grace Cuthbert.  I haven’t yet found the birth or parents of Grace, but a blacksmith by the name of Edward Cuthbert is mentioned on an Appleby Magna history website:

                          An Eighteenth Century Blacksmith’s Shop in Little Appleby
                          by Alan Roberts

                          Cuthberts inventory

                          The inventory of Edward Cuthbert provides interesting information about the household possessions and living arrangements of an eighteenth century blacksmith. Edward Cuthbert (als. Cutboard) settled in Appleby after the Restoration to join the handful of blacksmiths already established in the parish, including the Wathews who were prominent horse traders. The blacksmiths may have all worked together in the same shop at one time. Edward and his wife Sarah recorded the baptisms of several of their children in the parish register. Somewhat sadly three of the boys named after their father all died either in infancy or as young children. Edward’s inventory which was drawn up in 1732, by which time he was probably a widower and his children had left home, suggests that they once occupied a comfortable two-storey house in Little Appleby with an attached workshop, well equipped with all the tools for repairing farm carts, ploughs and other implements, for shoeing horses and for general ironmongery. 

                          Edward Cuthbert born circa 1660, married Joane Tuvenet in 1684 in Swepston cum Snarestone , and died in Appleby in 1732. Tuvenet is a French name and suggests a Huguenot connection, but this isn’t our family, and indeed this Edward Cuthbert is not likely to be Grace’s father anyway.

                          Michael Boss and Elizabeth Page appear to have married twice: once in 1776, and once in 1779. Both of the documents exist and appear correct. Both marriages were by licence. They both mention Michael is a blacksmith.

                          Their first daughter, Elizabeth, was baptized in February 1777, just nine months after the first wedding. It’s not known when she was born, however, and it’s possible that the marriage was a hasty one. But why marry again three years later?

                          But Michael Boss and Elizabeth Page did not marry twice.

                          Elizabeth Page from Smisby was born in 1752 and married Michael Boss on the 5th of May 1776 in Measham. On the marriage licence allegations and bonds, Michael is a bachelor.

                          Baby Elizabeth was baptised in Measham on the 9th February 1777. Mother Elizabeth died on the 18th February 1777, also in Measham.

                          In 1779 Michael Boss married another Elizabeth Page! She was born in 1749 in Hartshorn, and Michael is a widower on the marriage licence allegations and bonds.

                          Hartshorn and Smisby are neighbouring villages, hence the confusion.  But a closer look at the documents available revealed the clues.  Both Elizabeth Pages were literate, and indeed their signatures on the marriage registers are different:

                          Marriage of Michael Boss and Elizabeth Page of Smisby in 1776:

                          Elizabeth Page 1776

                           

                          Marriage of Michael Boss and Elizabeth Page of Harsthorn in 1779:

                          Elizabeth Page 1779

                           

                          Not only did Michael Boss marry two women both called Elizabeth Page but he had an unusual start in life as well. His uncle Michael Boss left him the blacksmith business and a third of his furniture. This was all in the will. But which of Uncle Michaels brothers was nephew Michaels father?

                          The only Michael Boss born at the right time was in 1750 in Edingale, Staffordshire, about eight miles from Appleby Magna. His parents were Thomas Boss and Ann Parker, married in Edingale in 1747.  Thomas died in August 1750, and his son Michael was baptised in the December, posthumus son of Thomas and his widow Ann. Both entries are on the same page of the register.

                          1750 posthumus

                           

                          Ann Boss, the young widow, married again. But perhaps Michael and his brother went to live with their childless uncle and aunt, Michael Boss and Grace Cuthbert.

                          The great grandfather of Michael Boss (the Measham blacksmith born in 1850) was also Michael Boss, probably born in the 1660s. He died in Newton Regis in Warwickshire in 1724, four years after his son (also Michael Boss born 1693) married Jane Peircivall.  The entry on the parish register states that Michael Boss was buried ye 13th Affadavit made.

                          I had not seen affadavit made on a parish register before, and this relates to the The Burying in Woollen Acts 1666–80.  According to Wikipedia:

                           “Acts of the Parliament of England which required the dead, except plague victims and the destitute, to be buried in pure English woollen shrouds to the exclusion of any foreign textiles.  It was a requirement that an affidavit be sworn in front of a Justice of the Peace (usually by a relative of the deceased), confirming burial in wool, with the punishment of a £5 fee for noncompliance. Burial entries in parish registers were marked with the word “affidavit” or its equivalent to confirm that affidavit had been sworn; it would be marked “naked” for those too poor to afford the woollen shroud.  The legislation was in force until 1814, but was generally ignored after 1770.”

                          Michael Boss buried 1724 “Affadavit made”:

                          Michael Boss affadavit 1724

                           

                           

                           

                          Elizabeth Page‘s father was William Page 1717-1783, a wheelwright in Hartshorn.  (The father of the first wife Elizabeth was also William Page, but he was a husbandman in Smisby born in 1714. William Page, the father of the second wife, was born in Nailstone, Leicestershire, in 1717. His place of residence on his marriage to Mary Potter was spelled Nelson.)

                          Her mother was Mary Potter 1719- of nearby Coleorton.  Mary’s father, Richard Potter 1677-1731, was a blacksmith in Coleorton.

                          A page of the will of Richard Potter 1731:

                          Richard Potter 1731

                           

                          Richard Potter states: “I will and order that my son Thomas Potter shall after my decease have one shilling paid to him and no more.”  As he left £50 to each of his daughters, one can’t help but wonder what Thomas did to displease his father.

                          Richard stipulated that his son Thomas should have one shilling paid to him and not more, for several good considerations, and left “the house and ground lying in the parish of Whittwick in a place called the Long Lane to my wife Mary Potter to dispose of as she shall think proper.”

                          His son Richard inherited the blacksmith business:  “I will and order that my son Richard Potter shall live and be with his mother and serve her duly and truly in the business of a blacksmith, and obey and serve her in all lawful commands six years after my decease, and then I give to him and his heirs…. my house and grounds Coulson House in the Liberty of Thringstone”

                          Richard wanted his son John to be a blacksmith too: “I will and order that my wife bring up my son John Potter at home with her and teach or cause him to be taught the trade of a blacksmith and that he shall serve her duly and truly seven years after my decease after the manner of an apprentice and at the death of his mother I give him that house and shop and building and the ground belonging to it which I now dwell in to him and his heirs forever.”

                          To his daughters Margrett and Mary Potter, upon their reaching the age of one and twenty, or the day after their marriage, he leaves £50 each. All the rest of his goods are left to his loving wife Mary.

                           

                          An inventory of the belongings of Richard Potter, 1731:

                          Richard Potter inventory

                           

                          Richard Potters father was also named Richard Potter 1649-1719, and he too was a blacksmith.

                          Richard Potter of Coleorton in the county of Leicester, blacksmith, stated in his will:  “I give to my son and daughter Thomas and Sarah Potter the possession of my house and grounds.”

                          He leaves ten pounds each to his daughters Jane and Alice, to his son Francis he gives five pounds, and five shillings to his son Richard. Sons Joseph and William also receive five shillings each. To his daughter Mary, wife of Edward Burton, and her daughter Elizabeth, he gives five shillings each. The rest of his good, chattels and wordly substance he leaves equally between his son and daugter Thomas and Sarah. As there is no mention of his wife, it’s assumed that she predeceased him.

                          The will of Richard Potter, 1719:

                          Richard Potter 1719

                           

                          Richard Potter’s (1649-1719) parents were William Potter and Alse Huldin, both born in the early 1600s.  They were married in 1646 at Breedon on the Hill, Leicestershire.  The name Huldin appears to originate in Finland.

                          William Potter was a blacksmith. In the 1659 parish registers of Breedon on the Hill, William Potter of Breedon blacksmith buryed the 14th July.

                          #6286
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Matthew Orgill and His Family

                             

                            Matthew Orgill 1828-1907 was the Orgill brother who went to Australia, but returned to Measham.  Matthew married Mary Orgill in Measham in October 1856, having returned from Victoria, Australia in May of that year.

                            Although Matthew was the first Orgill brother to go to Australia, he was the last one I found, and that was somewhat by accident, while perusing “Orgill” and “Measham” in a newspaper archives search.  I chanced on Matthew’s obituary in the Nuneaton Observer, Friday 14 June 1907:

                            LATE MATTHEW ORGILL PEACEFUL END TO A BLAMELESS LIFE.

                            ‘Sunset and Evening Star And one clear call for me.”

                            It is with very deep regret that we have to announce the death of Mr. Matthew Orgill, late of Measham, who passed peacefully away at his residence in Manor Court Road, Nuneaton, in the early hours of yesterday morning. Mr. Orgill, who was in his eightieth year, was a man with a striking history, and was a very fine specimen of our best English manhood. In early life be emigrated to South Africa—sailing in the “Hebrides” on 4th February. 1850—and was one of the first settlers at the Cape; afterwards he went on to Australia at the time of the Gold Rush, and ultimately came home to his native England and settled down in Measham, in Leicestershire, where he carried on a successful business for the long period of half-a-century.

                            He was full of reminiscences of life in the Colonies in the early days, and an hour or two in his company was an education itself. On the occasion of the recall of Sir Harry Smith from the Governorship of Natal (for refusing to be a party to the slaying of the wives and children in connection with the Kaffir War), Mr. Orgill was appointed to superintend the arrangements for the farewell demonstration. It was one of his boasts that he made the first missionary cart used in South Africa, which is in use to this day—a monument to the character of his work; while it is an interesting fact to note that among Mr. Orgill’s papers there is the original ground-plan of the city of Durban before a single house was built.

                            In Africa Mr. Orgill came in contact with the great missionary, David Livingstone, and between the two men there was a striking resemblance in character and a deep and lasting friendship. Mr. Orgill could give a most graphic description of the wreck of the “Birkenhead,” having been in the vicinity at the time when the ill-fated vessel went down. He played a most prominent part on the occasion of the famous wreck of the emigrant ship, “Minerva.” when, in conjunction with some half-a-dozen others, and at the eminent risk of their own lives, they rescued more than 100 of the unfortunate passengers. He was afterwards presented with an interesting relic as a memento of that thrilling experience, being a copper bolt from the vessel on which was inscribed the following words: “Relic of the ship Minerva, wrecked off Bluff Point, Port Natal. 8.A.. about 2 a.m.. Friday, July 5, 1850.”

                            Mr. Orgill was followed to the Colonies by no fewer than six of his brothers, all of whom did well, and one of whom married a niece (brother’s daughter) of the late Mr. William Ewart Gladstone.

                            On settling down in Measham his kindly and considerate disposition soon won for him a unique place in the hearts of all the people, by whom he was greatly beloved. He was a man of sterling worth and integrity. Upright and honourable in all his dealings, he led a Christian life that was a pattern to all with whom he came in contact, and of him it could truly he said that he wore the white flower of a blameless life.

                            He was a member of the Baptist Church, and although beyond much active service since settling down in Nuneaton less than two years ago he leaves behind him a record in Christian service attained by few. In politics he was a Radical of the old school. A great reader, he studied all the questions of the day, and could back up every belief he held by sound and fearless argument. The South African – war was a great grief to him. He knew the Boers from personal experience, and although he suffered at the time of the war for his outspoken condemnation, he had the satisfaction of living to see the people of England fully recognising their awful blunder. To give anything like an adequate idea of Mr. Orgill’s history would take up a great amount of space, and besides much of it has been written and commented on before; suffice it to say that it was strenuous, interesting, and eventful, and yet all through his hands remained unspotted and his heart was pure.

                            He is survived by three daughters, and was father-in-law to Mr. J. S. Massey. St Kilda. Manor Court Road, to whom deep and loving sympathy is extended in their sore bereavement by a wide circle of friends. The funeral is arranged to leave for Measham on Monday at twelve noon.

                             

                            “To give anything like an adequate idea of Mr. Orgill’s history would take up a great amount of space, and besides much of it has been written and commented on before…”

                            I had another look in the newspaper archives and found a number of articles mentioning him, including an intriguing excerpt in an article about local history published in the Burton Observer and Chronicle 8 August 1963:

                            on an upstairs window pane he scratched with his diamond ring “Matthew Orgill, 1st July, 1858”

                            Matthew Orgill window

                            Matthew orgill window 2

                             

                            I asked on a Measham facebook group if anyone knew the location of the house mentioned in the article and someone kindly responded. This is the same building, seen from either side:

                            Measham Wharf

                             

                            Coincidentally, I had already found this wonderful photograph of the same building, taken in 1910 ~ three years after Matthew’s death.

                            Old Measham wharf

                             

                            But what to make of the inscription in the window?

                            Matthew and Mary married in October 1856, and their first child (according to the records I’d found thus far) was a daughter Mary born in 1860.  I had a look for a Matthew Orgill birth registered in 1858, the date Matthew had etched on the window, and found a death for a Matthew Orgill in 1859.  Assuming I would find the birth of Matthew Orgill registered on the first of July 1958, to match the etching in the window, the corresponding birth was in July 1857!

                            Matthew and Mary had four children. Matthew, Mary, Clara and Hannah.  Hannah Proudman Orgill married Joseph Stanton Massey.  The Orgill name continues with their son Stanley Orgill Massey 1900-1979, who was a doctor and surgeon.  Two of Stanley’s four sons were doctors, Paul Mackintosh Orgill Massey 1929-2009, and Michael Joseph Orgill Massey 1932-1989.

                             

                            Mary Orgill 1827-1894, Matthews wife, was an Orgill too.

                            And this is where the Orgill branch of the tree gets complicated.

                            Mary’s father was Henry Orgill born in 1805 and her mother was Hannah Proudman born in 1805.
                            Henry Orgill’s father was Matthew Orgill born in 1769 and his mother was Frances Finch born in 1771.

                            Mary’s husband Matthews parents are Matthew Orgill born in 1798 and Elizabeth Orgill born in 1803.

                            Another Orgill Orgill marriage!

                            Matthews parents,  Matthew and Elizabeth, have the same grandparents as each other, Matthew Orgill born in 1736 and Ann Proudman born in 1735.

                            But Matthews grandparents are none other than Matthew Orgill born in 1769 and Frances Finch born in 1771 ~ the same grandparents as his wife Mary!

                            #6275
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              “AND NOW ABOUT EMMA”

                              and a mystery about George

                               

                              I had overlooked this interesting part of Barbara Housley’s “Narrative on the Letters” initially, perhaps because I was more focused on finding Samuel Housley.  But when I did eventually notice, I wondered how I had missed it!  In this particularly interesting letter excerpt from Joseph, Barbara has not put the date of the letter ~ unusually, because she did with all of the others.  However I dated the letter to later than 1867, because Joseph mentions his wife, and they married in 1867. This is important, because there are two Emma Housleys. Joseph had a sister Emma, born in 1836, two years before Joseph was born.  At first glance, one would assume that a reference to Emma in the letters would mean his sister, but Emma the sister was married in Derby in 1858, and by 1869 had four children.

                              But there was another Emma Housley, born in 1851.

                               

                              From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                              “AND NOW ABOUT EMMA”

                              A MYSTERY

                              A very mysterious comment is contained in a letter from Joseph:

                              “And now about Emma.  I have only seen her once and she came to me to get your address but I did not feel at liberty to give it to her until I had wrote to you but however she got it from someone.  I think it was in this way.  I was so pleased to hear from you in the first place and with John’s family coming to see me I let them read one or two of your letters thinking they would like to hear of you and I expect it was Will that noticed your address and gave it to her.  She came up to our house one day when I was at work to know if I had heard from you but I had not heard from you since I saw her myself and then she called again after that and my wife showed her your boys’ portraits thinking no harm in doing so.”

                              At this point Joseph interrupted himself to thank them for sending the portraits.  The next sentence is:

                              “Your son JOHN I have never seen to know him but I hear he is rather wild,” followed by: “EMMA has been living out service but don’t know where she is now.”

                              Since Joseph had just been talking about the portraits of George’s three sons, one of whom is John Eley, this could be a reference to things George has written in despair about a teen age son–but could Emma be a first wife and John their son?  Or could Emma and John both be the children of a first wife?

                              Elsewhere, Joseph wrote, “AMY ELEY died 14 years ago. (circa 1858)  She left a son and a daughter.”

                              An Amey Eley and a George Housley were married on April 1, 1849 in Duffield which is about as far west of Smalley as Heanor is East.  She was the daughter of John, a framework knitter, and Sarah Eley.  George’s father is listed as William, a farmer.  Amey was described as “of full age” and made her mark on the marriage document.

                              Anne wrote in August 1854:  “JOHN ELEY is living at Derby Station so must take the first opportunity to get the receipt.” Was John Eley Housley named for him?

                              (John Eley Housley is George Housley’s son in USA, with his second wife, Sarah.)

                               

                              George Housley married Amey Eley in 1849 in Duffield.  George’s father on the register is William Housley, farmer.  Amey Eley’s father is John Eley, framework knitter.

                              George Housley Amey Eley

                               

                              On the 1851 census, George Housley and his wife Amey Housley are living with her parents in Heanor, John Eley, a framework knitter, and his wife Rebecca.  Also on the census are Charles J Housley, born in 1849 in Heanor, and Emma Housley, three months old at the time of the census, born in 1851.  George’s birth place is listed as Smalley.

                              1851 George Housley

                               

                               

                              On the 31st of July 1851 George Housley arrives in New York. In 1854 George Housley marries Sarah Ann Hill in USA.

                               

                              On the 1861 census in Heanor, Rebecca Eley was a widow, her husband John having died in 1852, and she had three grandchildren living with her: Charles J Housley aged 12, Emma Housley, 10, and mysteriously a William Housley aged 5!  Amey Housley, the childrens mother,  died in 1858.

                              Housley Eley 1861

                               

                              Back to the mysterious comment in Joseph’s letter.  Joseph couldn’t have been speaking of his sister Emma.  She was married with children by the time Joseph wrote that letter, so was not just out of service, and Joseph would have known where she was.   There is no reason to suppose that the sister Emma was trying unsuccessfully to find George’s addresss: she had been sending him letters for years.   Joseph must have been referring to George’s daughter Emma.

                              Joseph comments to George “Your son John…is rather wild.” followed by the remark about Emma’s whereabouts.  Could Charles John Housley have used his middle name of John instead of Charles?

                              As for the child William born five years after George left for USA, despite his name of Housley, which was his mothers married name, we can assume that he was not a Housley ~ not George’s child, anyway. It is not clear who his father was, as Amey did not remarry.

                              A further excerpt from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                              Certainly there was some mystery in George’s life. George apparently wanted his whereabouts kept secret. Anne wrote: “People are at a loss to know where you are. The general idea is you are with Charles. We don’t satisfy them.” In that same letter Anne wrote: “I know you could not help thinking of us very often although you neglected writing…and no doubt would feel grieved for the trouble you at times caused (our mother). She freely forgives all.” Near the end of the letter, Anne added: “Mother sends her love to you and hopes you will write and if you want to tell her anything you don’t want all to see you must write it on a piece of loose paper and put it inside the letter.”

                              In a letter to George from his sister Emma:

                              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.”

                              It would seem that George Housley named his first son with his second wife after his first wife’s father ~ while he was married to both of them.

                               

                              Emma Housley

                              1851-1935

                               

                              In 1871 Emma was 20 years old and “in service” living as a lodger in West Hallam, not far from Heanor.  As she didn’t appear on a 1881 census, I looked for a marriage, but the only one that seemed right in every other way had Emma Housley’s father registered as Ralph Wibberly!

                              Who was Ralph Wibberly?  A family friend or neighbour, perhaps, someone who had been a father figure?  The first Ralph Wibberly I found was a blind wood cutter living in Derby. He had a son also called Ralph Wibberly. I did not think Ralph Wibberly would be a very common name, but I was wrong.

                              I then found a Ralph Wibberly living in Heanor, with a son also named Ralph Wibberly. A Ralph Wibberly married an Emma Salt from Heanor. In 1874, a 36 year old Ralph Wibberly (born in 1838) was on trial in Derby for inflicting grevious bodily harm on William Fretwell of Heanor. His occupation is “platelayer” (a person employed in laying and maintaining railway track.) The jury found him not guilty.

                              In 1851 a 23 year old Ralph Wibberly (born in 1828) was a prisoner in Derby Gaol. However, Ralph Wibberly, a 50 year old labourer born in 1801 and his son Ralph Wibberly, aged 13 and born in 1838, are living in Belper on the 1851 census. Perhaps the son was the same Ralph Wibberly who was found not guilty of GBH in 1874. This appears to be the one who married Emma Salt, as his wife on the 1871 census is called Emma, and his occupation is “Midland Company Railway labourer”.

                              Which was the Ralph Wibberly that Emma chose to name as her father on the marriage register? We may never know, but perhaps we can assume it was Ralph Wibberly born in 1801.  It is unlikely to be the blind wood cutter from Derby; more likely to be the local Ralph Wibberly.  Maybe his son Ralph, who we know was involved in a fight in 1874, was a friend of Emma’s brother Charles John, who was described by Joseph as a “wild one”, although Ralph was 11 years older than Charles John.

                              Emma Housley married James Slater on Christmas day in Heanor in 1873.  Their first child, a daughter, was called Amy. Emma’s mother was Amy Eley. James Slater was a colliery brakesman (employed to work the steam-engine, or other machinery used in raising the coal from the mine.)

                              It occurred to me to wonder if Emma Housley (George’s daughter) knew Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Catherine (Samuel’s daughters). They were cousins, lived in the vicinity, and they had in common with each other having been deserted by their fathers who were brothers. Emma was born two years after Catherine. Catherine was living with John Benniston, a framework knitter in Heanor, from 1851 to 1861. Emma was living with her grandfather John Ely, a framework knitter in Heanor. In 1861, George Purdy was also living in Heanor. He was listed on the census as a 13 year old coal miner! George Purdy and Catherine Housley married in 1866 in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire ~ just over the county border. Emma’s first child Amy was born in Heanor, but the next two children, Eliza and Lilly, were born in Eastwood, in 1878 and 1880. Catherine and George’s fifth child, my great grandmother Mary Ann Gilman Purdy, was born in Eastwood in 1880, the same year as Lilly Slater.

                              By 1881 Emma and James Slater were living in Woodlinkin, Codnor and Loscoe, close to Heanor and Eastwood, on the Derbyshire side of the border. On each census up to 1911 their address on the census is Woodlinkin. Emma and James had nine children: six girls and 3 boys, the last, Alfred Frederick, born in 1901.

                              Emma and James lived three doors up from the Thorn Tree pub in Woodlinkin, Codnor:

                              Woodlinkin

                               

                              Emma Slater died in 1935 at the age of 84.

                               

                              IN
                              LOVING MEMORY OF
                              EMMA SLATER
                              (OF WOODLINKIN)
                              WHO DIED
                              SEPT 12th 1935
                              AGED 84 YEARS
                              AT REST

                              Crosshill Cemetery, Codnor, Amber Valley Borough, Derbyshire, England:

                              Emma Slater

                               

                              Charles John Housley

                              1949-

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                                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.”

                                .

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                                  The Housley Letters

                                  The Carringtons

                                  Carrington Farm, Smalley:

                                  Carrington Farm

                                   

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

                                   

                                  From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

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

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

                                  RICHARD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                   

                                  THOMAS

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

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

                                   

                                  JOHN

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

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

                                  FRANK (see above)

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

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

                                  William and Mary Carrington:

                                  William Carrington

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                                    The Housley Letters

                                    FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS

                                    from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                                     

                                    George apparently asked about old friends and acquaintances and the family did their best to answer although Joseph wrote in 1873: “There is very few of your old cronies that I know of knocking about.”

                                    In Anne’s first letter she wrote about a conversation which Robert had with EMMA LYON before his death and added “It (his death) was a great trouble to Lyons.” In her second letter Anne wrote: “Emma Lyon is to be married September 5. I am going the Friday before if all is well. There is every prospect of her being comfortable. MRS. L. always asks after you.” In 1855 Emma wrote: “Emma Lyon now Mrs. Woolhouse has got a fine boy and a pretty fuss is made with him. They call him ALFRED LYON WOOLHOUSE.”

                                    (Interesting to note that Elizabeth Housley, the eldest daughter of Samuel and Elizabeth, was living with a Lyon family in Derby in 1861, after she left Belper workhouse.  The Emma listed on the census in 1861 was 10 years old, and so can not be the Emma Lyon mentioned here, but it’s possible, indeed likely, that Peter Lyon the baker was related to the Lyon’s who were friends of the Housley’s.  The mention of a sea captain in the Lyon family begs the question did Elizabeth Housley meet her husband, George William Stafford, a seaman, through some Lyon connections, but to date this remains a mystery.)

                                    Elizabeth Housley living with Peter Lyon and family in Derby St Peters in 1861:

                                    Lyon 1861 census

                                     

                                    A Henrietta Lyon was married in 1860. Her father was Matthew, a Navy Captain. The 1857 Derby Directory listed a Richard Woolhouse, plumber, glazier, and gas fitter on St. Peter’s Street. Robert lived in St. Peter’s parish at the time of his death. An Alfred Lyon, son of Alfred and Jemima Lyon 93 Friargate, Derby was baptised on December 4, 1877. An Allen Hewley Lyon, born February 1, 1879 was baptised June 17 1879.

                                     

                                    Anne wrote in August 1854: “KERRY was married three weeks since to ELIZABETH EATON. He has left Smith some time.” Perhaps this was the same person referred to by Joseph: “BILL KERRY, the blacksmith for DANIEL SMITH, is working for John Fletcher lace manufacturer.” According to the 1841 census, Elizabeth age 12, was the oldest daughter of Thomas and Rebecca Eaton. She would certainly have been of marriagable age in 1854. A William Kerry, age 14, was listed as a blacksmith’s apprentice in the 1851 census; but another William Kerry who was 29 in 1851 was already working for Daniel Smith as a blacksmith. REBECCA EATON was listed in the 1851 census as a widow serving as a nurse in the John Housley household. The 1881 census lists the family of William Kerry, blacksmith, as Jane, 19; William 13; Anne, 7; and Joseph, 4. Elizabeth is not mentioned but Bill is not listed as a widower.

                                    Anne also wrote in 1854 that she had not seen or heard anything of DICK HANSON for two years. Joseph wrote that he did not know Old BETTY HANSON’S son. A Richard Hanson, age 24 in 1851, lived with a family named Moore. His occupation was listed as “journeyman knitter.” An Elizabeth Hanson listed as 24 in 1851 could hardly be “Old Betty.” Emma wrote in June 1856 that JOE OLDKNOW age 27 had married Mrs. Gribble’s servant age 17.

                                    Anne wrote that “JOHN SPENCER had not been since father died.” The only John Spencer in Smalley in 1841 was four years old. He would have been 11 at the time of William Housley’s death. Certainly, the two could have been friends, but perhaps young John was named for his grandfather who was a crony of William’s living in a locality not included in the Smalley census.

                                    TAILOR ALLEN had lost his wife and was still living in the old house in 1872. JACK WHITE had died very suddenly, and DR. BODEN had died also. Dr. Boden’s first name was Robert. He was 53 in 1851, and was probably the Robert, son of Richard and Jane, who was christened in Morely in 1797. By 1861, he had married Catherine, a native of Smalley, who was at least 14 years his junior–18 according to the 1871 census!

                                    Among the family’s dearest friends were JOSEPH AND ELIZABETH DAVY, who were married some time after 1841. Mrs. Davy was born in 1812 and her husband in 1805. In 1841, the Kidsley Park farm household included DANIEL SMITH 72, Elizabeth 29 and 5 year old Hannah Smith. In 1851, Mr. Davy’s brother William and 10 year old Emma Davy were visiting from London. Joseph reported the death of both Davy brothers in 1872; Joseph apparently died first.

                                    Mrs. Davy’s father, was a well known Quaker. In 1856, Emma wrote: “Mr. Smith is very hearty and looks much the same.” He died in December 1863 at the age of 94. George Fox, the founder of the Quakers visited Kidsley Park in 1650 and 1654.

                                    Mr. Davy died in 1863, but in 1854 Anne wrote how ill he had been for two years. “For two last winters we never thought he would live. He is now able to go out a little on the pony.” In March 1856, his wife wrote, “My husband is in poor health and fell.” Later in 1856, Emma wrote, “Mr. Davy is living which is a great wonder. Mrs. Davy is very delicate but as good a friend as ever.”

                                    In The Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal, 15 May 1863:

                                    Davy Death

                                     

                                    Whenever the girls sent greetings from Mrs. Davy they used her Quaker speech pattern of “thee and thy.”  Mrs. Davy wrote to George on March 21 1856 sending some gifts from his sisters and a portrait of their mother–“Emma is away yet and A is so much worse.” Mrs. Davy concluded: “With best wishes for thy health and prosperity in this world and the next I am thy sincere friend.”

                                    Mrs. Davy later remarried. Her new husband was W.T. BARBER. The 1861 census lists William Barber, 35, Bachelor of Arts, Cambridge, living with his 82 year old widowed mother on an 135 acre farm with three servants. One of these may have been the Ann who, according to Joseph, married Jack Oldknow. By 1871 the farm, now occupied by William, 47 and Elizabeth, 57, had grown to 189 acres. Meanwhile, Kidsley Park Farm became the home of the Housleys’ cousin Selina Carrington and her husband Walker Martin. Both Barbers were still living in 1881.

                                    Mrs. Davy was described in Kerry’s History of Smalley as “an accomplished and exemplary lady.” A piece of her poetry “Farewell to Kidsley Park” was published in the history. It was probably written when Elizabeth moved to the Barber farm. Emma sent one of her poems to George. It was supposed to be about their house. “We have sent you a piece of poetry that Mrs. Davy composed about our ‘Old House.’ I am sure you will like it though you may not understand all the allusions she makes use of as well as we do.”

                                    Kiddsley Park Farm, Smalley, in 1898.  (note that the Housley’s lived at Kiddsley Grange Farm, and the Davy’s at neighbouring Kiddsley Park Farm)

                                    Kiddsley Park Farm

                                     

                                    Emma was not sure if George wanted to hear the local gossip (“I don’t know whether such little particulars will interest you”), but shared it anyway. In November 1855: “We have let the house to Mr. Gribble. I dare say you know who he married, Matilda Else. They came from Lincoln here in March. Mrs. Gribble gets drunk nearly every day and there are such goings on it is really shameful. So you may be sure we have not very pleasant neighbors but we have very little to do with them.”

                                    John Else and his wife Hannah and their children John and Harriet (who were born in Smalley) lived in Tag Hill in 1851. With them lived a granddaughter Matilda Gribble age 3 who was born in Lincoln. A Matilda, daughter of John and Hannah, was christened in 1815. (A Sam Else died when he fell down the steps of a bar in 1855.)

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                                      The Housley Letters 

                                      From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters.

                                       

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

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

                                      William and Ellen Marriage

                                       

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

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

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

                                       

                                      ELLEN HOUSLEY 1795-1872

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

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

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

                                       

                                      Mary’s children:

                                      MARY ANN HOUSLEY  1808-1878

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

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

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

                                       

                                      WILLIAM HOUSLEY JR. 1812-1890

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

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

                                       

                                      Ellen’s children:

                                      JOHN HOUSLEY  1815-1893

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                      John Housley

                                       

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

                                       

                                      SAMUEL HOUSLEY 1816-

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

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

                                      Housley Deaths

                                       

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

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

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

                                       

                                      EDWARD HOUSLEY 1819-1843

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

                                       

                                      ANNE HOUSLEY 1821-1856

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                      The Carrington Farm:

                                      Carringtons Farm

                                       

                                      CHARLES HOUSLEY 1823-1855

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

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

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

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

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

                                       

                                      GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                       

                                      ROBERT HOUSLEY 1832-1851

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

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

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

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

                                       

                                      EMMA HOUSLEY 1836-1871

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

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

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

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

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

                                      Emma Housley and Edwin Welch Harvey wedding, 1858:

                                      Emma Housley wedding

                                       

                                      JOSEPH HOUSLEY 1838-1893

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                      Joseph Housley and the Kiddsley cottages:

                                      Joseph Housley

                                      #6268
                                      TracyTracy
                                      Participant

                                        From Tanganyika with Love

                                        continued part 9

                                        With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                                        Lyamungu 3rd January 1945

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Lyamungu 14 May 1945

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Lyamungu 19th September 1945

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

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

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

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

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

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

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

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

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Jacksdale England 24th June 1946

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Jacksdale England 28th August 1946

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Jacksdale England 20th September 1946

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Dar es Salaam 22nd October 1946

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        Mbeya 1st November 1946

                                        Dearest Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                        Eleanor.

                                        #6265
                                        TracyTracy
                                        Participant

                                          From Tanganyika with Love

                                          continued  ~ part 6

                                          With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                                          Mchewe 6th June 1937

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Home again! We had an uneventful journey. Kate was as good as gold all the
                                          way. We stopped for an hour at Bulawayo where we had to change trains but
                                          everything was simplified for me by a very pleasant man whose wife shared my
                                          compartment. Not only did he see me through customs but he installed us in our new
                                          train and his wife turned up to see us off with magazines for me and fruit and sweets for
                                          Kate. Very, very kind, don’t you think?

                                          Kate and I shared the compartment with a very pretty and gentle girl called
                                          Clarice Simpson. She was very worried and upset because she was going home to
                                          Broken Hill in response to a telegram informing her that her young husband was
                                          dangerously ill from Blackwater Fever. She was very helpful with Kate whose
                                          cheerfulness helped Clarice, I think, though I, quite unintentionally was the biggest help
                                          at the end of our journey. Remember the partial dentures I had had made just before
                                          leaving Cape Town? I know I shall never get used to the ghastly things, I’ve had them
                                          two weeks now and they still wobble. Well this day I took them out and wrapped them
                                          in a handkerchief, but when we were packing up to leave the train I could find the
                                          handkerchief but no teeth! We searched high and low until the train had slowed down to
                                          enter Broken Hill station. Then Clarice, lying flat on the floor, spied the teeth in the dark
                                          corner under the bottom bunk. With much stretching she managed to retrieve the
                                          dentures covered in grime and fluff. My look of horror, when I saw them, made young
                                          Clarice laugh. She was met at the station by a very grave elderly couple. I do wonder
                                          how things turned out for her.

                                          I stayed overnight with Kate at the Great Northern Hotel, and we set off for
                                          Mbeya by plane early in the morning. One of our fellow passengers was a young
                                          mother with a three week old baby. How ideas have changed since Ann was born. This
                                          time we had a smooth passage and I was the only passenger to get airsick. Although
                                          there were other women passengers it was a man once again, who came up and
                                          offered to help. Kate went off with him amiably and he entertained her until we touched
                                          down at Mbeya.

                                          George was there to meet us with a wonderful surprise, a little red two seater
                                          Ford car. She is a bit battered and looks a bit odd because the boot has been
                                          converted into a large wooden box for carrying raw salt, but she goes like the wind.
                                          Where did George raise the cash to buy a car? Whilst we were away he found a small
                                          cave full of bat guano near a large cave which is worked by a man called Bob Sargent.
                                          As Sargent did not want any competition he bought the contents of the cave from
                                          George giving him the small car as part payment.

                                          It was lovely to return to our little home and find everything fresh and tidy and the
                                          garden full of colour. But it was heartbreaking to go into the bedroom and see George’s
                                          precious forgotten boots still standing by his empty bed.

                                          With much love,
                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mchewe 25th June 1937

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Last Friday George took Kate and me in the little red Ford to visit Mr Sargent’s
                                          camp on the Songwe River which cuts the Mbeya-Mbosi road. Mr Sargent bought
                                          Hicky-Wood’s guano deposit and also our small cave and is making a good living out of
                                          selling the bat guano to the coffee farmers in this province. George went to try to interest
                                          him in a guano deposit near Kilwa in the Southern Province. Mr Sargent agreed to pay
                                          25 pounds to cover the cost of the car trip and pegging costs. George will make the trip
                                          to peg the claim and take samples for analysis. If the quality is sufficiently high, George
                                          and Mr Sargent will go into partnership. George will work the claim and ship out the
                                          guano from Kilwa which is on the coast of the Southern Province of Tanganyika. So now
                                          we are busy building castles in the air once more.

                                          On Saturday we went to Mbeya where George had to attend a meeting of the
                                          Trout Association. In the afternoon he played in a cricket match so Kate and I spent the
                                          whole day with the wife of the new Superintendent of Police. They have a very nice
                                          new house with lawns and a sunken rose garden. Kate had a lovely romp with Kit, her
                                          three year old son.

                                          Mrs Wolten also has two daughters by a previous marriage. The elder girl said to
                                          me, “Oh Mrs Rushby your husband is exactly like the strong silent type of man I
                                          expected to see in Africa but he is the only one I have seen. I think he looks exactly like
                                          those men in the ‘Barney’s Tobacco’ advertisements.”

                                          I went home with a huge pile of magazines to keep me entertained whilst
                                          George is away on the Kilwa trip.

                                          Lots of love,
                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mchewe 9th July 1937

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          George returned on Monday from his Kilwa safari. He had an entertaining
                                          tale to tell.

                                          Before he approached Mr Sargent about going shares in the Kilwa guano
                                          deposit he first approached a man on the Lupa who had done very well out of a small
                                          gold reef. This man, however said he was not interested so you can imagine how
                                          indignant George was when he started on his long trip, to find himself being trailed by
                                          this very man and a co-driver in a powerful Ford V8 truck. George stopped his car and
                                          had some heated things to say – awful threats I imagine as to what would happen to
                                          anyone who staked his claim. Then he climbed back into our ancient little two seater and
                                          went off like a bullet driving all day and most of the night. As the others took turns in
                                          driving you can imagine what a feat it was for George to arrive in Kilwa ahead of them.
                                          When they drove into Kilwa he met them with a bright smile and a bit of bluff –
                                          quite justifiable under the circumstances I think. He said, you chaps can have a rest now,
                                          you’re too late.” He then whipped off and pegged the claim. he brought some samples
                                          of guano back but until it has been analysed he will not know whether the guano will be
                                          an economic proposition or not. George is not very hopeful. He says there is a good
                                          deal of sand mixed with the guano and that much of it was damp.

                                          The trip was pretty eventful for Kianda, our houseboy. The little two seater car
                                          had been used by its previous owner for carting bags of course salt from his salt pans.
                                          For this purpose the dicky seat behind the cab had been removed, and a kind of box
                                          built into the boot of the car. George’s camp kit and provisions were packed into this
                                          open box and Kianda perched on top to keep an eye on the belongings. George
                                          travelled so fast on the rough road that at some point during the night Kianda was
                                          bumped off in the middle of the Game Reserve. George did not notice that he was
                                          missing until the next morning. He concluded, quite rightly as it happened, that Kianda
                                          would be picked up by the rival truck so he continued his journey and Kianda rejoined
                                          him at Kilwa.

                                          Believe it or not, the same thing happened on the way back but fortunately this
                                          time George noticed his absence. He stopped the car and had just started back on his
                                          tracks when Kianda came running down the road still clutching the unlighted storm lamp
                                          which he was holding in his hand when he fell. The glass was not even cracked.
                                          We are finding it difficult just now to buy native chickens and eggs. There has
                                          been an epidemic amongst the poultry and one hesitates to eat the survivors. I have a
                                          brine tub in which I preserve our surplus meat but I need the chickens for soup.
                                          I hope George will be home for some months. He has arranged to take a Mr
                                          Blackburn, a wealthy fruit farmer from Elgin, Cape, on a hunting safari during September
                                          and October and that should bring in some much needed cash. Lillian Eustace has
                                          invited Kate and me to spend the whole of October with her in Tukuyu.
                                          I am so glad that you so much enjoy having Ann and George with you. We miss
                                          them dreadfully. Kate is a pretty little girl and such a little madam. You should hear the
                                          imperious way in which she calls the kitchenboy for her meals. “Boy Brekkis, Boy Lunch,
                                          and Boy Eggy!” are her three calls for the day. She knows no Ki-Swahili.

                                          Eleanor

                                          Mchewe 8th October 1937

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          I am rapidly becoming as superstitious as our African boys. They say the wild
                                          animals always know when George is away from home and come down to have their
                                          revenge on me because he has killed so many.

                                          I am being besieged at night by a most beastly leopard with a half grown cub. I
                                          have grown used to hearing leopards grunt as they hunt in the hills at night but never
                                          before have I had one roaming around literally under the windows. It has been so hot at
                                          night lately that I have been sleeping with my bedroom door open onto the verandah. I
                                          felt quite safe because the natives hereabouts are law-abiding and in any case I always
                                          have a boy armed with a club sleeping in the kitchen just ten yards away. As an added
                                          precaution I also have a loaded .45 calibre revolver on my bedside table, and Fanny
                                          our bullterrier, sleeps on the mat by my bed. I am also looking after Barney, a fine
                                          Airedale dog belonging to the Costers. He slept on a mat by the open bedroom door
                                          near a dimly burning storm lamp.

                                          As usual I went to sleep with an easy mind on Monday night, but was awakened
                                          in the early hours of Tuesday by the sound of a scuffle on the front verandah. The noise
                                          was followed by a scream of pain from Barney. I jumped out of bed and, grabbing the
                                          lamp with my left hand and the revolver in my right, I rushed outside just in time to see
                                          two animal figures roll over the edge of the verandah into the garden below. There they
                                          engaged in a terrific tug of war. Fortunately I was too concerned for Barney to be
                                          nervous. I quickly fired two shots from the revolver, which incidentally makes a noise like
                                          a cannon, and I must have startled the leopard for both animals, still locked together,
                                          disappeared over the edge of the terrace. I fired two more shots and in a few moments
                                          heard the leopard making a hurried exit through the dry leaves which lie thick under the
                                          wild fig tree just beyond the terrace. A few seconds later Barney appeared on the low
                                          terrace wall. I called his name but he made no move to come but stood with hanging
                                          head. In desperation I rushed out, felt blood on my hands when I touched him, so I
                                          picked him up bodily and carried him into the house. As I regained the verandah the boy
                                          appeared, club in hand, having been roused by the shots. He quickly grasped what had
                                          happened when he saw my blood saturated nightie. He fetched a bowl of water and a
                                          clean towel whilst I examined Barney’s wounds. These were severe, the worst being a
                                          gaping wound in his throat. I washed the gashes with a strong solution of pot permang
                                          and I am glad to say they are healing remarkably well though they are bound to leave
                                          scars. Fanny, very prudently, had taken no part in the fighting except for frenzied barking
                                          which she kept up all night. The shots had of course wakened Kate but she seemed
                                          more interested than alarmed and kept saying “Fanny bark bark, Mummy bang bang.
                                          Poor Barney lots of blood.”

                                          In the morning we inspected the tracks in the garden. There was a shallow furrow
                                          on the terrace where Barney and the leopard had dragged each other to and fro and
                                          claw marks on the trunk of the wild fig tree into which the leopard climbed after I fired the
                                          shots. The affair was of course a drama after the Africans’ hearts and several of our
                                          shamba boys called to see me next day to make sympathetic noises and discuss the
                                          affair.

                                          I went to bed early that night hoping that the leopard had been scared off for
                                          good but I must confess I shut all windows and doors. Alas for my hopes of a restful
                                          night. I had hardly turned down the lamp when the leopard started its terrifying grunting
                                          just under the bedroom windows. If only she would sniff around quietly I should not
                                          mind, but the noise is ghastly, something like the first sickening notes of a braying
                                          donkey, amplified here by the hills and the gorge which is only a stones throw from the
                                          bedroom. Barney was too sick to bark but Fanny barked loud enough for two and the more
                                          frantic she became the hungrier the leopard sounded. Kate of course woke up and this
                                          time she was frightened though I assured her that the noise was just a donkey having
                                          fun. Neither of us slept until dawn when the leopard returned to the hills. When we
                                          examined the tracks next morning we found that the leopard had been accompanied by
                                          a fair sized cub and that together they had prowled around the house, kitchen, and out
                                          houses, visiting especially the places to which the dogs had been during the day.
                                          As I feel I cannot bear many more of these nights, I am sending a note to the
                                          District Commissioner, Mbeya by the messenger who takes this letter to the post,
                                          asking him to send a game scout or an armed policeman to deal with the leopard.
                                          So don’t worry, for by the time this reaches you I feel sure this particular trouble
                                          will be over.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mchewe 17th October 1937

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          More about the leopard I fear! My messenger returned from Mbeya to say that
                                          the District Officer was on safari so he had given the message to the Assistant District
                                          Officer who also apparently left on safari later without bothering to reply to my note, so
                                          there was nothing for me to do but to send for the village Nimrod and his muzzle loader
                                          and offer him a reward if he could frighten away or kill the leopard.

                                          The hunter, Laza, suggested that he should sleep at the house so I went to bed
                                          early leaving Laza and his two pals to make themselves comfortable on the living room
                                          floor by the fire. Laza was armed with a formidable looking muzzle loader, crammed I
                                          imagine with nuts and bolts and old rusty nails. One of his pals had a spear and the other
                                          a panga. This fellow was also in charge of the Petromax pressure lamp whose light was
                                          hidden under a packing case. I left the campaign entirely to Laza’s direction.
                                          As usual the leopard came at midnight stealing down from the direction of the
                                          kitchen and announcing its presence and position with its usual ghastly grunts. Suddenly
                                          pandemonium broke loose on the back verandah. I heard the roar of the muzzle loader
                                          followed by a vigourous tattoo beaten on an empty paraffin tin and I rushed out hoping
                                          to find the dead leopard. however nothing of the kind had happened except that the
                                          noise must have scared the beast because she did not return again that night. Next
                                          morning Laza solemnly informed me that, though he had shot many leopards in his day,
                                          this was no ordinary leopard but a “sheitani” (devil) and that as his gun was no good
                                          against witchcraft he thought he might as well retire from the hunt. Scared I bet, and I
                                          don’t blame him either.

                                          You can imagine my relief when a car rolled up that afternoon bringing Messers
                                          Stewart and Griffiths, two farmers who live about 15 miles away, between here and
                                          Mbeya. They had a note from the Assistant District Officer asking them to help me and
                                          they had come to set up a trap gun in the garden. That night the leopard sniffed all
                                          around the gun and I had the added strain of waiting for the bang and wondering what I
                                          should do if the beast were only wounded. I conjured up horrible visions of the two little
                                          totos trotting up the garden path with the early morning milk and being horribly mauled,
                                          but I needn’t have worried because the leopard was far too wily to be caught that way.
                                          Two more ghastly nights passed and then I had another visitor, a Dr Jackson of
                                          the Tsetse Department on safari in the District. He listened sympathetically to my story
                                          and left his shotgun and some SSG cartridges with me and instructed me to wait until the
                                          leopard was pretty close and blow its b—– head off. It was good of him to leave his
                                          gun. George always says there are three things a man should never lend, ‘His wife, his
                                          gun and his dog.’ (I think in that order!)I felt quite cheered by Dr Jackson’s visit and sent
                                          once again for Laza last night and arranged a real show down. In the afternoon I draped
                                          heavy blankets over the living room windows to shut out the light of the pressure lamp
                                          and the four of us, Laza and his two stooges and I waited up for the leopard. When we
                                          guessed by her grunts that she was somewhere between the kitchen and the back door
                                          we all rushed out, first the boy with the panga and the lamp, next Laza with his muzzle
                                          loader, then me with the shotgun followed closely by the boy with the spear. What a
                                          farce! The lamp was our undoing. We were blinded by the light and did not even
                                          glimpse the leopard which made off with a derisive grunt. Laza said smugly that he knew
                                          it was hopeless to try and now I feel tired and discouraged too.

                                          This morning I sent a runner to Mbeya to order the hotel taxi for tomorrow and I
                                          shall go to friends in Mbeya for a day or two and then on to Tukuyu where I shall stay
                                          with the Eustaces until George returns from Safari.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mchewe 18th November 1937

                                          My darling Ann,

                                          Here we are back in our own home and how lovely it is to have Daddy back from
                                          safari. Thank you very much for your letter. I hope by now you have got mine telling you
                                          how very much I liked the beautiful tray cloth you made for my birthday. I bet there are
                                          not many little girls of five who can embroider as well as you do, darling. The boy,
                                          Matafari, washes and irons it so carefully and it looks lovely on the tea tray.

                                          Daddy and I had some fun last night. I was in bed and Daddy was undressing
                                          when we heard a funny scratching noise on the roof. I thought it was the leopard. Daddy
                                          quickly loaded his shotgun and ran outside. He had only his shirt on and he looked so
                                          funny. I grabbed the loaded revolver from the cupboard and ran after Dad in my nightie
                                          but after all the rush it was only your cat, Winnie, though I don’t know how she managed
                                          to make such a noise. We felt so silly, we laughed and laughed.

                                          Kate talks a lot now but in such a funny way you would laugh to her her. She
                                          hears the houseboys call me Memsahib so sometimes instead of calling me Mummy
                                          she calls me “Oompaab”. She calls the bedroom a ‘bippon’ and her little behind she
                                          calls her ‘sittendump’. She loves to watch Mandawi’s cattle go home along the path
                                          behind the kitchen. Joseph your donkey, always leads the cows. He has a lazy life now.
                                          I am glad you had such fun on Guy Fawkes Day. You will be sad to leave
                                          Plumstead but I am sure you will like going to England on the big ship with granny Kate.
                                          I expect you will start school when you get to England and I am sure you will find that
                                          fun.

                                          God bless my dear little girl. Lots of love from Daddy and Kate,
                                          and Mummy

                                          Mchewe 18th November 1937

                                          Hello George Darling,

                                          Thank you for your lovely drawing of Daddy shooting an elephant. Daddy says
                                          that the only thing is that you have drawn him a bit too handsome.

                                          I went onto the verandah a few minutes ago to pick a banana for Kate from the
                                          bunch hanging there and a big hornet flew out and stung my elbow! There are lots of
                                          them around now and those stinging flies too. Kate wears thick corduroy dungarees so
                                          that she will not get her fat little legs bitten. She is two years old now and is a real little
                                          pickle. She loves running out in the rain so I have ordered a pair of red Wellingtons and a
                                          tiny umbrella from a Nairobi shop for her Christmas present.

                                          Fanny’s puppies have their eyes open now and have very sharp little teeth.
                                          They love to nip each other. We are keeping the fiercest little one whom we call Paddy
                                          but are giving the others to friends. The coffee bushes are full of lovely white flowers
                                          and the bees and ants are very busy stealing their honey.

                                          Yesterday a troop of baboons came down the hill and Dad shot a big one to
                                          scare the others off. They are a nuisance because they steal the maize and potatoes
                                          from the native shambas and then there is not enough food for the totos.
                                          Dad and I are very proud of you for not making a fuss when you went to the
                                          dentist to have that tooth out.

                                          Bye bye, my fine little son.
                                          Three bags full of love from Kate, Dad and Mummy.

                                          Mchewe 12th February, 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          here is some news that will please you. George has been offered and has
                                          accepted a job as Forester at Mbulu in the Northern Province of Tanganyika. George
                                          would have preferred a job as Game Ranger, but though the Game Warden, Philip
                                          Teare, is most anxious to have him in the Game Department, there is no vacancy at
                                          present. Anyway if one crops up later, George can always transfer from one
                                          Government Department to another. Poor George, he hates the idea of taking a job. He
                                          says that hitherto he has always been his own master and he detests the thought of
                                          being pushed around by anyone.

                                          Now however he has no choice. Our capitol is almost exhausted and the coffee
                                          market shows no signs of improving. With three children and another on the way, he
                                          feels he simply must have a fixed income. I shall be sad to leave this little farm. I love
                                          our little home and we have been so very happy here, but my heart rejoices at the
                                          thought of overseas leave every thirty months. Now we shall be able to fetch Ann and
                                          George from England and in three years time we will all be together in Tanganyika once
                                          more.

                                          There is no sale for farms so we will just shut the house and keep on a very small
                                          labour force just to keep the farm from going derelict. We are eating our hens but will
                                          take our two dogs, Fanny and Paddy with us.

                                          One thing I shall be glad to leave is that leopard. She still comes grunting around
                                          at night but not as badly as she did before. I do not mind at all when George is here but
                                          until George was accepted for this forestry job I was afraid he might go back to the
                                          Diggings and I should once more be left alone to be cursed by the leopard’s attentions.
                                          Knowing how much I dreaded this George was most anxious to shoot the leopard and
                                          for weeks he kept his shotgun and a powerful torch handy at night.

                                          One night last week we woke to hear it grunting near the kitchen. We got up very
                                          quietly and whilst George loaded the shotgun with SSG, I took the torch and got the
                                          heavy revolver from the cupboard. We crept out onto the dark verandah where George
                                          whispered to me to not switch on the torch until he had located the leopard. It was pitch
                                          black outside so all he could do was listen intently. And then of course I spoilt all his
                                          plans. I trod on the dog’s tin bowl and made a terrific clatter! George ordered me to
                                          switch on the light but it was too late and the leopard vanished into the long grass of the
                                          Kalonga, grunting derisively, or so it sounded.

                                          She never comes into the clearing now but grunts from the hillside just above it.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mbulu 18th March, 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Journeys end at last. here we are at Mbulu, installed in our new quarters which are
                                          as different as they possibly could be from our own cosy little home at Mchewe. We
                                          live now, my dears, in one wing of a sort of ‘Beau Geste’ fort but I’ll tell you more about
                                          it in my next letter. We only arrived yesterday and have not had time to look around.
                                          This letter will tell you just about our trip from Mbeya.

                                          We left the farm in our little red Ford two seater with all our portable goods and
                                          chattels plus two native servants and the two dogs. Before driving off, George took one
                                          look at the flattened springs and declared that he would be surprised if we reached
                                          Mbeya without a breakdown and that we would never make Mbulu with the car so
                                          overloaded.

                                          However luck was with us. We reached Mbeya without mishap and at one of the
                                          local garages saw a sturdy used Ford V8 boxbody car for sale. The garage agreed to
                                          take our small car as part payment and George drew on our little remaining capitol for the
                                          rest. We spent that night in the house of the Forest Officer and next morning set out in
                                          comfort for the Northern Province of Tanganyika.

                                          I had done the journey from Dodoma to Mbeya seven years before so was
                                          familiar with the scenery but the road was much improved and the old pole bridges had
                                          been replaced by modern steel ones. Kate was as good as gold all the way. We
                                          avoided hotels and camped by the road and she found this great fun.
                                          The road beyond Dodoma was new to me and very interesting country, flat and
                                          dry and dusty, as little rain falls there. The trees are mostly thorn trees but here and there
                                          one sees a giant baobab, weird trees with fantastically thick trunks and fat squat branches
                                          with meagre foliage. The inhabitants of this area I found interesting though. They are
                                          called Wagogo and are a primitive people who ape the Masai in dress and customs
                                          though they are much inferior to the Masai in physique. They are also great herders of
                                          cattle which, rather surprisingly, appear to thrive in that dry area.

                                          The scenery alters greatly as one nears Babati, which one approaches by a high
                                          escarpment from which one has a wonderful view of the Rift Valley. Babati township
                                          appears to be just a small group of Indian shops and shabby native houses, but I
                                          believe there are some good farms in the area. Though the little township is squalid,
                                          there is a beautiful lake and grand mountains to please the eye. We stopped only long
                                          enough to fill up with petrol and buy some foodstuffs. Beyond Babati there is a tsetse
                                          fly belt and George warned our two native servants to see that no tsetse flies settled on
                                          the dogs.

                                          We stopped for the night in a little rest house on the road about 80 miles from
                                          Arusha where we were to spend a few days with the Forest Officer before going on to
                                          Mbulu. I enjoyed this section of the road very much because it runs across wide plains
                                          which are bounded on the West by the blue mountains of the Rift Valley wall. Here for
                                          the first time I saw the Masai on their home ground guarding their vast herds of cattle. I
                                          also saw their strange primitive hovels called Manyattas, with their thorn walled cattle
                                          bomas and lots of plains game – giraffe, wildebeest, ostriches and antelope. Kate was
                                          wildly excited and entranced with the game especially the giraffe which stood gazing
                                          curiously and unafraid of us, often within a few yards of the road.

                                          Finally we came across the greatest thrill of all, my first view of Mt Meru the extinct
                                          volcano about 16,000 feet high which towers over Arusha township. The approach to
                                          Arusha is through flourishing coffee plantations very different alas from our farm at Mchewe. George says that at Arusha coffee growing is still a paying proposition
                                          because here the yield of berry per acre is much higher than in the Southern highlands
                                          and here in the North the farmers have not such heavy transport costs as the railway runs
                                          from Arusha to the port at Tanga.

                                          We stayed overnight at a rather second rate hotel but the food was good and we
                                          had hot baths and a good nights rest. Next day Tom Lewis the Forest Officer, fetched
                                          us and we spent a few days camping in a tent in the Lewis’ garden having meals at their
                                          home. Both Tom and Lillian Lewis were most friendly. Tom lewis explained to George
                                          what his work in the Mbulu District was to be, and they took us camping in a Forest
                                          Reserve where Lillian and her small son David and Kate and I had a lovely lazy time
                                          amidst beautiful surroundings. Before we left for Mbulu, Lillian took me shopping to buy
                                          material for curtains for our new home. She described the Forest House at Mbulu to me
                                          and it sounded delightful but alas, when we reached Mbulu we discovered that the
                                          Assistant District Officer had moved into the Forest House and we were directed to the
                                          Fort or Boma. The night before we left Arusha for Mbulu it rained very heavily and the
                                          road was very treacherous and slippery due to the surface being of ‘black cotton’ soil
                                          which has the appearance and consistency of chocolate blancmange, after rain. To get to
                                          Mbulu we had to drive back in the direction of Dodoma for some 70 miles and then turn
                                          to the right and drive across plains to the Great Rift Valley Wall. The views from this
                                          escarpment road which climbs this wall are magnificent. At one point one looks down
                                          upon Lake Manyara with its brilliant white beaches of soda.

                                          The drive was a most trying one for George. We had no chains for the wheels
                                          and several times we stuck in the mud and our two houseboys had to put grass and
                                          branches under the wheels to stop them from spinning. Quite early on in the afternoon
                                          George gave up all hope of reaching Mbulu that day and planned to spend the night in
                                          a little bush rest camp at Karatu. However at one point it looked as though we would not
                                          even reach this resthouse for late afternoon found us properly bogged down in a mess
                                          of mud at the bottom of a long and very steep hill. In spite of frantic efforts on the part of
                                          George and the two boys, all now very wet and muddy, the heavy car remained stuck.
                                          Suddenly five Masai men appeared through the bushes beside the road. They
                                          were all tall and angular and rather terrifying looking to me. Each wore only a blanket
                                          knotted over one shoulder and all were armed with spears. They lined up by the side of
                                          the road and just looked – not hostile but simply aloof and supercilious. George greeted
                                          them and said in Ki-Swahili, “Help to push and I will reward you.” But they said nothing,
                                          just drawing back imperceptibly to register disgust at the mere idea of manual labour.
                                          Their expressions said quite clearly “A Masai is a warrior and does not soil his hands.”
                                          George then did something which startled them I think, as much as me. He
                                          plucked their spears from their hands one by one and flung them into the back of the
                                          boxbody. “Now push!” he said, “And when we are safely out of the mud you shall have
                                          your spears back.” To my utter astonishment the Masai seemed to applaud George’s
                                          action. I think they admire courage in a man more than anything else. They pushed with a
                                          will and soon we were roaring up the long steep slope. “I can’t stop here” quoth George
                                          as up and up we went. The Masai were in mad pursuit with their blankets streaming
                                          behind. They took a very steep path which was a shortcut to the top. They are certainly
                                          amazing athletes and reached the top at the same time as the car. Their route of course
                                          was shorter but much more steep, yet they came up without any sign of fatigue to claim
                                          their spears and the money which George handed out with a friendly grin. The Masai
                                          took the whole episode in good heart and we parted on the most friendly terms.

                                          After a rather chilly night in the three walled shack, we started on the last lap of our
                                          journey yesterday morning in bright weather and made the trip to Mbulu without incident.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mbulu 24th March, 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Mbulu is an attractive station but living in this rather romantic looking fort has many
                                          disadvantages. Our quarters make up one side of the fort which is built up around a
                                          hollow square. The buildings are single storied but very tall in the German manner and
                                          there is a tower on one corner from which the Union Jack flies. The tower room is our
                                          sitting room, and one has very fine views from the windows of the rolling country side.
                                          However to reach this room one has to climb a steep flight of cement steps from the
                                          court yard. Another disadvantage of this tower room is that there is a swarm of bees in
                                          the roof and the stray ones drift down through holes in the ceiling and buzz angrily
                                          against the window panes or fly around in a most menacing manner.

                                          Ours are the only private quarters in the Fort. Two other sides of the Fort are
                                          used as offices, storerooms and court room and the fourth side is simply a thick wall with
                                          battlements and loopholes and a huge iron shod double door of enormous thickness
                                          which is always barred at sunset when the flag is hauled down. Two Police Askari always
                                          remain in the Fort on guard at night. The effect from outside the whitewashed fort is very
                                          romantic but inside it is hardly homely and how I miss my garden at Mchewe and the
                                          grass and trees.

                                          We have no privacy downstairs because our windows overlook the bare
                                          courtyard which is filled with Africans patiently waiting to be admitted to the courtroom as
                                          witnesses or spectators. The outside windows which overlook the valley are heavily
                                          barred. I can only think that the Germans who built this fort must have been very scared
                                          of the local natives.

                                          Our rooms are hardly cosy and are furnished with typical heavy German pieces.
                                          We have a vast bleak bedroom, a dining room and an enormous gloomy kitchen in
                                          which meals for the German garrison were cooked. At night this kitchen is alive with
                                          gigantic rats but fortunately they do not seem to care for the other rooms. To crown
                                          everything owls hoot and screech at night on the roof.

                                          On our first day here I wandered outside the fort walls with Kate and came upon a
                                          neatly fenced plot enclosing the graves of about fifteen South African soldiers killed by
                                          the Germans in the 1914-18 war. I understand that at least one of theses soldiers died in
                                          the courtyard here. The story goes, that during the period in the Great War when this fort
                                          was occupied by a troop of South African Horse, a German named Siedtendorf
                                          appeared at the great barred door at night and asked to speak to the officer in command
                                          of the Troop. The officer complied with this request and the small shutter in the door was
                                          opened so that he could speak with the German. The German, however, had not come
                                          to speak. When he saw the exposed face of the officer, he fired, killing him, and
                                          escaped into the dark night. I had this tale on good authority but cannot vouch for it. I do
                                          know though, that there are two bullet holes in the door beside the shutter. An unhappy
                                          story to think about when George is away, as he is now, and the moonlight throws queer
                                          shadows in the court yard and the owls hoot.

                                          However though I find our quarters depressing, I like Mbulu itself very much. It is
                                          rolling country, treeless except for the plantations of the Forestry Dept. The land is very
                                          fertile in the watered valleys but the grass on hills and plains is cropped to the roots by
                                          the far too numerous cattle and goats. There are very few Europeans on the station, only
                                          Mr Duncan, the District Officer, whose wife and children recently left for England, the
                                          Assistant District Officer and his wife, a bachelor Veterinary Officer, a Road Foreman and
                                          ourselves, and down in the village a German with an American wife and an elderly
                                          Irishman whom I have not met. The Government officials have a communal vegetable
                                          garden in the valley below the fort which keeps us well supplied with green stuff. 

                                          Most afternoons George, Kate and I go for walks after tea. On Fridays there is a
                                          little ceremony here outside the fort. In the late afternoon a little procession of small
                                          native schoolboys, headed by a drum and penny whistle band come marching up the
                                          road to a tune which sounds like ‘Two lovely black eyes”. They form up below our tower
                                          and as the flag is lowered for the day they play ‘God save the King’, and then march off
                                          again. It is quite a cheerful little ceremony.

                                          The local Africans are a skinny lot and, I should say, a poor tribe. They protect
                                          themselves against the cold by wrapping themselves in cotton blankets or a strip of
                                          unbleached sheeting. This they drape over their heads, almost covering their faces and
                                          the rest is wrapped closely round their bodies in the manner of a shroud. A most
                                          depressing fashion. They live in very primitive comfortless houses. They simply make a
                                          hollow in the hillside and build a front wall of wattle and daub. Into this rude shelter at night
                                          go cattle and goats, men, women, and children.

                                          Mbulu village has the usual mud brick and wattle dukas and wattle and daub
                                          houses. The chief trader is a Goan who keeps a surprisingly good variety of tinned
                                          foodstuffs and also sells hardware and soft goods.

                                          The Europeans here have been friendly but as you will have noted there are
                                          only two other women on station and no children at all to be companions for Kate.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Mbulu 20th June 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Here we are on Safari with George at Babati where we are occupying a rest
                                          house on the slopes of Ufiome Mountain. The slopes are a Forest Reserve and
                                          George is supervising the clearing of firebreaks in preparation for the dry weather. He
                                          goes off after a very early breakfast and returns home in the late afternoon so Kate and I
                                          have long lazy days.

                                          Babati is a pleasant spot and the resthouse is quite comfortable. It is about a mile
                                          from the village which is just the usual collection of small mud brick and corrugated iron
                                          Indian Dukas. There are a few settlers in the area growing coffee, or going in for mixed
                                          farming but I don’t think they are doing very well. The farm adjoining the rest house is
                                          owned by Lord Lovelace but is run by a manager.

                                          George says he gets enough exercise clambering about all day on the mountain,
                                          so Kate and I do our walking in the mornings when George is busy, and we all relax in
                                          the evenings when George returns from his field work. Kate’s favourite walk is to the big
                                          block of mtama (sorghum) shambas lower down the hill. There are huge swarms of tiny
                                          grain eating birds around waiting the chance to plunder the mtama, so the crops are
                                          watched from sunrise to sunset.

                                          Crude observation platforms have been erected for this purpose in the centre of
                                          each field and the women and the young boys of the family concerned, take it in turn to
                                          occupy the platform and scare the birds. Each watcher has a sling and uses clods of
                                          earth for ammunition. The clod is placed in the centre of the sling which is then whirled
                                          around at arms length. Suddenly one end of the sling is released and the clod of earth
                                          flies out and shatters against the mtama stalks. The sling makes a loud whip like crack and
                                          the noise is quite startling and very effective in keeping the birds at a safe distance.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Karatu 3rd July 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Still on safari you see! We left Babati ten days ago and passed through Mbulu
                                          on our way to this spot. We slept out of doors one night beside Lake Tiawa about eight
                                          miles from Mbulu. It was a peaceful spot and we enjoyed watching the reflection of the
                                          sunset on the lake and the waterhens and duck and pelicans settling down for the night.
                                          However it turned piercingly cold after sunset so we had an early supper and then all
                                          three of us lay down to sleep in the back of the boxbody (station wagon). It was a tight
                                          fit and a real case of ‘When Dad turns, we all turn.’

                                          Here at Karatu we are living in a grass hut with only three walls. It is rather sweet
                                          and looks like the setting for a Nativity Play. Kate and I share the only camp bed and
                                          George and the dogs sleep on the floor. The air here is very fresh and exhilarating and
                                          we all feel very fit. George is occupied all day supervising the cutting of firebreaks
                                          around existing plantations and the forest reserve of indigenous trees. Our camp is on
                                          the hillside and below us lie the fertile wheat lands of European farmers.

                                          They are mostly Afrikaners, the descendants of the Boer families who were
                                          invited by the Germans to settle here after the Boer War. Most of them are pro-British
                                          now and a few have called in here to chat to George about big game hunting. George
                                          gets on extremely well with them and recently attended a wedding where he had a
                                          lively time dancing at the reception. He likes the older people best as most are great
                                          individualists. One fine old man, surnamed von Rooyen, visited our camp. He is a Boer
                                          of the General Smuts type with spare figure and bearded face. George tells me he is a
                                          real patriarch with an enormous family – mainly sons. This old farmer fought against the
                                          British throughout the Boer War under General Smuts and again against the British in the
                                          German East Africa campaign when he was a scout and right hand man to Von Lettow. It
                                          is said that Von Lettow was able to stay in the field until the end of the Great War
                                          because he listened to the advise given to him by von Rooyen. However his dislike for
                                          the British does not extend to George as they have a mutual interest in big game
                                          hunting.

                                          Kate loves being on safari. She is now so accustomed to having me as her nurse
                                          and constant companion that I do not know how she will react to paid help. I shall have to
                                          get someone to look after her during my confinement in the little German Red Cross
                                          hospital at Oldeani.

                                          George has obtained permission from the District Commissioner, for Kate and
                                          me to occupy the Government Rest House at Oldeani from the end of July until the end
                                          of August when my baby is due. He will have to carry on with his field work but will join
                                          us at weekends whenever possible.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Karatu 12th July 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Not long now before we leave this camp. We have greatly enjoyed our stay
                                          here in spite of the very chilly earl mornings and the nights when we sit around in heavy
                                          overcoats until our early bed time.

                                          Last Sunday I persuaded George to take Kate and me to the famous Ngoro-
                                          Ngoro Crater. He was not very keen to do so because the road is very bumpy for
                                          anyone in my interesting condition but I feel so fit that I was most anxious to take this
                                          opportunity of seeing the enormous crater. We may never be in this vicinity again and in
                                          any case safari will not be so simple with a small baby.

                                          What a wonderful trip it was! The road winds up a steep escarpment from which
                                          one gets a glorious birds eye view of the plains of the Great Rift Valley far, far below.
                                          The crater is immense. There is a road which skirts the rim in places and one has quite
                                          startling views of the floor of the crater about two thousand feet below.

                                          A camp for tourists has just been built in a clearing in the virgin forest. It is most
                                          picturesque as the camp buildings are very neatly constructed log cabins with very high
                                          pitched thatched roofs. We spent about an hour sitting on the grass near the edge of the
                                          crater enjoying the sunshine and the sharp air and really awe inspiring view. Far below us
                                          in the middle of the crater was a small lake and we could see large herds of game
                                          animals grazing there but they were too far away to be impressive, even seen through
                                          George’s field glasses. Most appeared to be wildebeest and zebra but I also picked
                                          out buffalo. Much more exciting was my first close view of a wild elephant. George
                                          pointed him out to me as we approached the rest camp on the inward journey. He
                                          stood quietly under a tree near the road and did not seem to be disturbed by the car
                                          though he rolled a wary eye in our direction. On our return journey we saw him again at
                                          almost uncomfortably close quarters. We rounded a sharp corner and there stood the
                                          elephant, facing us and slap in the middle of the road. He was busily engaged giving
                                          himself a dust bath but spared time to give us an irritable look. Fortunately we were on a
                                          slight slope so George quickly switched off the engine and backed the car quietly round
                                          the corner. He got out of the car and loaded his rifle, just in case! But after he had finished
                                          his toilet the elephant moved off the road and we took our chance and passed without
                                          incident.

                                          One notices the steepness of the Ngoro-Ngoro road more on the downward
                                          journey than on the way up. The road is cut into the side of the mountain so that one has
                                          a steep slope on one hand and a sheer drop on the other. George told me that a lorry
                                          coming down the mountain was once charged from behind by a rhino. On feeling and
                                          hearing the bash from behind the panic stricken driver drove off down the mountain as
                                          fast as he dared and never paused until he reached level ground at the bottom of the
                                          mountain. There was no sign of the rhino so the driver got out to examine his lorry and
                                          found the rhino horn embedded in the wooden tail end of the lorry. The horn had been
                                          wrenched right off!

                                          Happily no excitement of that kind happened to us. I have yet to see a rhino.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Oldeani. 19th July 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Greetings from a lady in waiting! Kate and I have settled down comfortably in the
                                          new, solidly built Government Rest House which comprises one large living room and
                                          one large office with a connecting door. Outside there is a kitchen and a boys quarter.
                                          There are no resident Government officials here at Oldeani so the office is in use only
                                          when the District Officer from Mbulu makes his monthly visit. However a large Union
                                          Jack flies from a flagpole in the front of the building as a gentle reminder to the entirely
                                          German population of Oldeani that Tanganyika is now under British rule.

                                          There is quite a large community of German settlers here, most of whom are
                                          engaged in coffee farming. George has visited several of the farms in connection with his
                                          forestry work and says the coffee plantations look very promising indeed. There are also
                                          a few German traders in the village and there is a large boarding school for German
                                          children and also a very pleasant little hospital where I have arranged to have the baby.
                                          Right next door to the Rest House is a General Dealers Store run by a couple named
                                          Schnabbe. The shop is stocked with drapery, hardware, china and foodstuffs all
                                          imported from Germany and of very good quality. The Schnabbes also sell local farm
                                          produce, beautiful fresh vegetables, eggs and pure rich milk and farm butter. Our meat
                                          comes from a German butchery and it is a great treat to get clean, well cut meat. The
                                          sausages also are marvellous and in great variety.

                                          The butcher is an entertaining character. When he called round looking for custom I
                                          expected him to break out in a yodel any minute, as it was obvious from a glance that
                                          the Alps are his natural background. From under a green Tyrollean hat with feather,
                                          blooms a round beefy face with sparkling small eyes and such widely spaced teeth that
                                          one inevitably thinks of a garden rake. Enormous beefy thighs bulge from greasy
                                          lederhosen which are supported by the traditional embroidered braces. So far the
                                          butcher is the only cheery German, male or female, whom I have seen, and I have met
                                          most of the locals at the Schnabbe’s shop. Most of the men seem to have cultivated
                                          the grim Hitler look. They are all fanatical Nazis and one is usually greeted by a raised
                                          hand and Heil Hitler! All very theatrical. I always feel like crying in ringing tones ‘God
                                          Save the King’ or even ‘St George for England’. However the men are all very correct
                                          and courteous and the women friendly. The women all admire Kate and cry, “Ag, das
                                          kleine Englander.” She really is a picture with her rosy cheeks and huge grey eyes and
                                          golden curls. Kate is having a wonderful time playing with Manfried, the Scnabbe’s small
                                          son. Neither understands a word said by the other but that doesn’t seem to worry them.

                                          Before he left on safari, George took me to hospital for an examination by the
                                          nurse, Sister Marianne. She has not been long in the country and knows very little
                                          English but is determined to learn and carried on an animated, if rather quaint,
                                          conversation with frequent references to a pocket dictionary. She says I am not to worry
                                          because there is not doctor here. She is a very experienced midwife and anyway in an
                                          emergency could call on the old retired Veterinary Surgeon for assistance.
                                          I asked sister Marianne whether she knew of any German woman or girl who
                                          would look after Kate whilst I am in hospital and today a very top drawer German,
                                          bearing a strong likeness to ‘Little Willie’, called and offered the services of his niece who
                                          is here on a visit from Germany. I was rather taken aback and said, “Oh no Baron, your
                                          niece would not be the type I had in mind. I’m afraid I cannot pay much for a companion.”
                                          However the Baron was not to be discouraged. He told me that his niece is seventeen
                                          but looks twenty, that she is well educated and will make a cheerful companion. Her
                                          father wishes her to learn to speak English fluently and that is why the Baron wished her
                                          to come to me as a house daughter. As to pay, a couple of pounds a month for pocket
                                          money and her keep was all he had in mind. So with some misgivings I agreed to take
                                          the niece on as a companion as from 1st August.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Oldeani. 10th August 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Never a dull moment since my young companion arrived. She is a striking looking
                                          girl with a tall boyish figure and very short and very fine dark hair which she wears
                                          severely slicked back. She wears tweeds, no make up but has shiny rosy cheeks and
                                          perfect teeth – she also,inevitably, has a man friend and I have an uncomfortable
                                          suspicion that it is because of him that she was planted upon me. Upon second
                                          thoughts though, maybe it was because of her excessive vitality, or even because of
                                          her healthy appetite! The Baroness, I hear is in poor health and I can imagine that such
                                          abundant health and spirit must have been quite overpowering. The name is Ingeborg,
                                          but she is called Mouche, which I believe means Mouse. Someone in her family must
                                          have a sense of humour.

                                          Her English only needed practice and she now chatters fluently so that I know her
                                          background and views on life. Mouche’s father is a personal friend of Goering. He was
                                          once a big noise in the German Airforce but is now connected with the car industry and
                                          travels frequently and intensively in Europe and America on business. Mouche showed
                                          me some snap shots of her family and I must say they look prosperous and charming.
                                          Mouche tells me that her father wants her to learn to speak English fluently so that
                                          she can get a job with some British diplomat in Cairo. I had immediate thought that I
                                          might be nursing a future Mata Hari in my bosom, but this was immediately extinguished
                                          when Mouche remarked that her father would like her to marry an Englishman. However
                                          it seems that the mere idea revolts her. “Englishmen are degenerates who swill whisky
                                          all day.” I pointed out that she had met George, who was a true blue Englishman, but
                                          was nevertheless a fine physical specimen and certainly didn’t drink all day. Mouche
                                          replied that George is not an Englishman but a hunter, as though that set him apart.
                                          Mouche is an ardent Hitler fan and an enthusiastic member of the Hitler Youth
                                          Movement. The house resounds with Hitler youth songs and when she is not singing,
                                          her gramophone is playing very stirring marching songs. I cannot understand a word,
                                          which is perhaps as well. Every day she does the most strenuous exercises watched
                                          with envy by me as my proportions are now those of a circus Big Top. Mouche eats a
                                          fantastic amount of meat and I feel it is a blessing that she is much admired by our
                                          Tyrollean butcher who now delivers our meat in person and adds as a token of his
                                          admiration some extra sausages for Mouche.

                                          I must confess I find her stimulating company as George is on safari most of the
                                          time and my evenings otherwise would be lonely. I am a little worried though about
                                          leaving Kate here with Mouche when I go to hospital. The dogs and Kate have not taken
                                          to her. I am trying to prepare Kate for the separation but she says, “She’s not my
                                          mummy. You are my dear mummy, and I want you, I want you.” George has got
                                          permission from the Provincial Forestry Officer to spend the last week of August here at
                                          the Rest House with me and I only hope that the baby will be born during that time.
                                          Kate adores her dad and will be perfectly happy to remain here with him.

                                          One final paragraph about Mouche. I thought all German girls were domesticated
                                          but not Mouche. I have Kesho-Kutwa here with me as cook and I have engaged a local
                                          boy to do the laundry. I however expected Mouche would take over making the
                                          puddings and pastry but she informed me that she can only bake a chocolate cake and
                                          absolutely nothing else. She said brightly however that she would do the mending. As
                                          there is none for her to do, she has rescued a large worn handkerchief of George’s and
                                          sits with her feet up listening to stirring gramophone records whilst she mends the
                                          handkerchief with exquisite darning.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Oldeani. 20th August 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          Just after I had posted my last letter I received what George calls a demi official
                                          letter from the District Officer informing me that I would have to move out of the Rest
                                          House for a few days as the Governor and his hangers on would be visiting Oldeani
                                          and would require the Rest House. Fortunately George happened to be here for a few
                                          hours and he arranged for Kate and Mouche and me to spend a few days at the
                                          German School as borders. So here I am at the school having a pleasant and restful
                                          time and much entertained by all the goings on.

                                          The school buildings were built with funds from Germany and the school is run on
                                          the lines of a contemporary German school. I think the school gets a grant from the
                                          Tanganyika Government towards running expenses, but I am not sure. The school hall is
                                          dominated by a more than life sized oil painting of Adolf Hitler which, at present, is
                                          flanked on one side by the German Flag and on the other by the Union Jack. I cannot
                                          help feeling that the latter was put up today for the Governor’s visit today.
                                          The teachers are very amiable. We all meet at mealtimes, and though few of the
                                          teachers speak English, the ones who do are anxious to chatter. The headmaster is a
                                          scholarly man but obviously anti-British. He says he cannot understand why so many
                                          South Africans are loyal to Britain – or rather to England. “They conquered your country
                                          didn’t they?” I said that that had never occurred to me and that anyway I was mainly of
                                          Scots descent and that loyalty to the crown was natural to me. “But the English
                                          conquered the Scots and yet you are loyal to England. That I cannot understand.” “Well I
                                          love England,” said I firmly, ”and so do all British South Africans.” Since then we have
                                          stuck to English literature. Shakespeare, Lord Byron and Galsworthy seem to be the
                                          favourites and all, thank goodness, make safe topics for conversation.
                                          Mouche is in her element but Kate and I do not enjoy the food which is typically
                                          German and consists largely of masses of fat pork and sauerkraut and unfamiliar soups. I
                                          feel sure that the soup at lunch today had blobs of lemon curd in it! I also find most
                                          disconcerting the way that everyone looks at me and says, “Bon appetite”, with much
                                          smiling and nodding so I have to fight down my nausea and make a show of enjoying
                                          the meals.

                                          The teacher whose room adjoins mine is a pleasant woman and I take my
                                          afternoon tea with her. She, like all the teachers, has a large framed photo of Hitler on her
                                          wall flanked by bracket vases of fresh flowers. One simply can’t get away from the man!
                                          Even in the dormitories each child has a picture of Hitler above the bed. Hitler accepting
                                          flowers from a small girl, or patting a small boy on the head. Even the children use the
                                          greeting ‘Heil Hitler’. These German children seem unnaturally prim when compared with
                                          my cheerful ex-pupils in South Africa but some of them are certainly very lovely to look
                                          at.

                                          Tomorrow Mouche, Kate and I return to our quarters in the Rest House and in a
                                          few days George will join us for a week.

                                          Eleanor.

                                          Oldeani Hospital. 9th September 1938

                                          Dearest Family,

                                          You will all be delighted to hear that we have a second son, whom we have
                                          named John. He is a darling, so quaint and good. He looks just like a little old man with a
                                          high bald forehead fringed around the edges with a light brown fluff. George and I call
                                          him Johnny Jo because he has a tiny round mouth and a rather big nose and reminds us
                                          of A.A.Milne’s ‘Jonathan Jo has a mouth like an O’ , but Kate calls him, ‘My brother John’.
                                          George was not here when he was born on September 5th, just two minutes
                                          before midnight. He left on safari on the morning of the 4th and, of course, that very night
                                          the labour pains started. Fortunately Kate was in bed asleep so Mouche walked with
                                          me up the hill to the hospital where I was cheerfully received by Sister Marianne who
                                          had everything ready for the confinement. I was lucky to have such an experienced
                                          midwife because this was a breech birth and sister had to manage single handed. As
                                          there was no doctor present I was not allowed even a sniff of anaesthetic. Sister slaved
                                          away by the light of a pressure lamp endeavouring to turn the baby having first shoved
                                          an inverted baby bath under my hips to raise them.

                                          What a performance! Sister Marianne was very much afraid that she might not be
                                          able to save the baby and great was our relief when at last she managed to haul him out
                                          by the feet. One slap and the baby began to cry without any further attention so Sister
                                          wrapped him up in a blanket and took Johnny to her room for the night. I got very little
                                          sleep but was so thankful to have the ordeal over that I did not mind even though I
                                          heard a hyaena cackling and calling under my window in a most evil way.
                                          When Sister brought Johnny to me in the early morning I stared in astonishment.
                                          Instead of dressing him in one of his soft Viyella nighties, she had dressed him in a short
                                          sleeved vest of knitted cotton with a cotton cloth swayed around his waist sarong
                                          fashion. When I protested, “But Sister why is the baby not dressed in his own clothes?”
                                          She answered firmly, “I find it is not allowed. A baby’s clotheses must be boiled and I
                                          cannot boil clotheses of wool therefore your baby must wear the clotheses of the Red
                                          Cross.”

                                          It was the same with the bedding. Poor Johnny lies all day in a deep wicker
                                          basket with a detachable calico lining. There is no pillow under his head but a vast kind of
                                          calico covered pillow is his only covering. There is nothing at all cosy and soft round my
                                          poor baby. I said crossly to the Sister, “As every thing must be so sterile, I wonder you
                                          don’t boil me too.” This she ignored.

                                          When my message reached George he dashed back to visit us. Sister took him
                                          first to see the baby and George was astonished to see the baby basket covered by a
                                          sheet. “She has the poor little kid covered up like a bloody parrot,” he told me. So I
                                          asked him to go at once to buy a square of mosquito netting to replace the sheet.
                                          Kate is quite a problem. She behaves like an Angel when she is here in my
                                          room but is rebellious when Sister shoos her out. She says she “Hates the Nanny”
                                          which is what she calls Mouche. Unfortunately it seems that she woke before midnight
                                          on the night Johnny Jo was born to find me gone and Mouche in my bed. According to
                                          Mouche, Kate wept all night and certainly when she visited me in the early morning
                                          Kate’s face was puffy with crying and she clung to me crying “Oh my dear mummy, why
                                          did you go away?” over and over again. Sister Marianne was touched and suggested
                                          that Mouche and Kate should come to the hospital as boarders as I am the only patient
                                          at present and there is plenty of room. Luckily Kate does not seem at all jealous of the
                                          baby and it is a great relief to have here here under my eye.

                                          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.

                                             

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