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  • #6520

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Rajkumar had named his car JUMPY because he said it reminded him of his mother country. He drove like they were in the chaotic streets of an Indian city. Youssef’s fist was clenched on the door handle, his knuckles white. He needed to hold on to something just as much as he was afraid of loosing the door.

    He had never been so happy as when Rajkumar stopped in front of his cousin’s shop and restaurant.

    “Just in time for the best butter chicken in all Alice Springs!” said Rajkumar, pointing to the restaurant on the left.

    Smells of greasy sauce, meat and spices floated in the air. Despite his legendary hunger, Youssef’s stomach started to protest from the recent treatment on the road. If he had had any doubt, he was sure now that he wouldn’t go on a trip in Jumpy with Rajkumar.

    “Maybe I’ll go for the scarf first,” he said.

    Rajkumar noded and pointed to the right, to a stout man squating in front of a pile of scarves.

    “This is cousin Ashish. You can’t find a better shop in town for scarves,” said Rajkumar. He high fived his cousin who looked like a giant in comparison with the short guide. They talked for a long time in what Youssef assumed to be some Indian dialect. At some point, his guide pointed a finger at him and said : “This big man is looking for a red scarf. I told him you had the best quality in town. Hand made, right from India. Ashish buys and sells the best to the best only. I have to go park the car and tell my other cousin to prepare you a meal. Best Indian food in Alice.”

    After he left, cousin Ashish showed Youssef in. At the entrance incense burned at the feet of a couple of colourful Hindu gods. The intoxicating smell reminded him of a stop at a temple during his last trip with the documentary team. The face of Miss Tartiflate jumped into his mind. He would have to take care of THE BLOG at some point, but for now, he was looking for a red scarf. The inside of the shop was as messy as a Mongolian bazaar. Clothes upon clothes, and piles of scarves everywhere.

    “Red scarves are over there, said Ashish. Follow me.”

    He was less talkative than his cousin, which was a welcome relief. He led Youssef to the back of the shop. On the wall, the portrait in black and white of an old Indian man was watching over their shoulder.

    Ashish took one long red scarf and put it around his neck.

    “You can touch, he said. Very good quality. Very light. Like you wear nothing.”

    Youssef took the end of the fabric in his hand. It felt very silky and light to the touch.

    “That’s perfect, I’ll take it”, he said.

    His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and checked his messages.

    • 📨 [Quirk Land] NEW QUEST OPENED

    Looking at the time, it was already noon. Xavier must have landed in Alice already. He started to type a message to his friend :

    💬 Meet me for lunch at Todd Mall. Patel indian restaurant next to fabric shop

    #6518

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Xavier had been drowsing in the rental car for a while, waiting for a message from Youssef. He’d stopped the aircon despite the suffocating heat, as he was starting to feel cold. And he’d started to nose dive in dreaming.

    The buzzing of his phone made him snap back to consciousness from the weirdest dream, he had to take a few seconds to adjust. The phone went into silent mode to voicemail before he got the chance to pick it up.

    Weirdest dream ever. Few hours ago, he’d been going round and round the place, trying to find a library to buy a black book, but surprisingly, even when he’d managed to find a small bookstore, there were none to sell. None with a black cover…

    He’d wondered —sometimes these quests are made to be difficult, but come on, how difficult could it be. Even a plain black-covered notebook would have been enough, but nothing!

    That’s when he’d decided to drop the search, that he dozed off in the car.

    Few images came back from the dream. First, the insane search, and books coming up in all shapes and forms, any color but black… or black but with black-and-white photos on the covers he didn’t want.

    And then, there was one. He started to open it, and all the pages were blank. As he was browsing them, looking for a clue, like a pop-out book, something came up from the middle of the pages. And it was himself, smiling back at him. The shock snapped him right back to the rather quiet street of Alice Springs.

     

     

     

     

    SOOO WEIIIIRD

     

     

     

     

     


    He turned the ignition back on as well as the aircon. Checked his message.

    • 📨 [Quirk Land] NEW QUEST OPENED
    • 1 voicemail from ❣️🐝Brytta🐝❣️
    • 💬 Youssef typing…
    #6514

    In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Xavier offered the following quirk: “being the holder of continuity”

      Quirk accepted.

      Your quest takes place in the ghost town of Midnight, where time seems to have stood still. The townspeople are all frozen in time, stuck in their daily routines and unable to move on. Your mission is to find the missing piece of continuity, a small hourglass that will set time back in motion and allow the townspeople to move forward.

      The clue to finding the hourglass lies within a discarded pocket watch that can be found in the mayor’s office. You must unscrew the back and retrieve a hidden key. The key will unlock a secret compartment in the town clock tower, where the hourglass is kept.

      Be careful as you search for the hourglass, as the town is not as abandoned as it seems. Spectral figures roam the streets, and strange whispers can be heard in the wind. You may also encounter a mysterious old man who seems to know more about the town’s secrets than he lets on.

      Proof of completion can be shown by taking a photo of the hourglass and the pocket watch, and sending it to the game’s creators.

      Good luck!

      #6512

      In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Zara offered the following quirk: “unleash my hidden rudeness”

        Quirk accepted.

        You find yourself in the bustling streets of an old medieval town. The people around you are going about their business, and you see vendors selling goods, street performers entertaining the crowd, and guards patrolling the area. You hear rumors about a secret society of mischievous tricksters who are known for causing trouble and making people’s lives more interesting.

        You decide to investigate these rumors and join the society of tricksters, who call themselves the “Rude Ones.” You are tasked with finding the key to their hideout, a tile with a rude message written on it. To do this, you must complete several challenges and pranks around the town, each more mischievous than the last.

        Your objective is to find the tile, sneak into the Rude Ones’ hideout, and cause as much chaos and trouble as possible. You must also find a way to insert a real-life prank or act of rudeness into your daily life, as proof of your success in the game.

        Possible directions to investigate:

        • Talk to the vendors and street performers to gather information about the Rude Ones.
        • Observe the guards and see if they have any information on the secret society.
        • Explore the different neighborhoods and see if anyone knows about the hideout.

        Possible characters to engage:

        • A mysterious street performer who is rumored to be part of the Rude Ones.
        • A vendor who has a reputation for being rude to customers.
        • A guard who is rumored to be in league with the Rude Ones.

        Look for a tile with a rude message written on it, and capture proof of your real-life prank or act of rudeness. Good luck, and have fun!

        #6419

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        “I’d advise you not to take the parrot, Zara,” Harry the vet said, “There are restrictions on bringing dogs and other animals into state parks, and you can bet some jobsworth official will insist she stays in a cage at the very least.”

        “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll leave her here. I want to call in and see my cousin in Camden on the way to the airport in Sydney anyway.   He has dozens of cats, I’d hate for anything to happen to Pretty Girl,” Zara replied.

        “Is that the distant cousin you met when you were doing your family tree?” Harry asked, glancing up from the stitches he was removing from a wounded wombat.  “There, he’s good to go.  Give him a couple more days, then he can be released back where he came from.”

        Zara smiled at Harry as she picked up the animal. “Yes!  We haven’t met in person yet, and he’s going to show me the church my ancestor built. He says people have been spotting ghosts there lately, and there are rumours that it’s the ghost of the old convict Isaac who built it.  If I can’t find photos of the ancestors, maybe I can get photos of their ghosts instead,” Zara said with a laugh.

        “Good luck with that,” Harry replied raising an eyebrow. He liked Zara, she was quirkier than the others.

        Zara hadn’t found it easy to research her mothers family from Bangalore in India, but her fathers English family had been easy enough.  Although Zara had been born in England and emigrated to Australia in her late 20s, many of her ancestors siblings had emigrated over several generations, and Zara had managed to trace several down and made contact with a few of them.   Isaac Stokes wasn’t a direct ancestor, he was the brother of her fourth great grandfather but his story had intrigued her.  Sentenced to transportation for stealing tools for his work as a stonemason seemed to have worked in his favour.  He built beautiful stone buildings in a tiny new town in the 1800s in the charming style of his home town in England.

        Zara planned to stay in Camden for a couple of days before meeting the others at the Flying Fish Inn, anticipating a pleasant visit before the crazy adventure started.

         

        ~~~

         

        Zara stepped down from the bus, squinting in the bright sunlight and looking around for her newfound cousin  Bertie.   A lanky middle aged man in dungarees and a red baseball cap came forward with his hand extended.

        “Welcome to Camden, Zara I presume! Great to meet you!” he said shaking her hand and taking her rucksack.  Zara was taken aback to see the family resemblance to her grandfather.  So many scattered generations and yet there was still a thread of familiarity.  “I bet you’re hungry, let’s go and get some tucker at Belle’s Cafe, and then I bet you want to see the church first, hey?  Whoa, where’d that dang parrot come from?” Bertie said, ducking quickly as the bird swooped right in between them.

        “Oh no, it’s Pretty Girl!” exclaimed Zara. “She wasn’t supposed to come with me, I didn’t bring her! How on earth did you fly all this way to get here the same time as me?” she asked the parrot.

        “Pretty Girl has her ways, don’t forget to feed the parrot,” the bird replied with a squalk that resembled a mirthful guffaw.

        “That’s one strange parrot you got here, girl!” Bertie said in astonishment.

        “Well, seeing as you’re here now, Pretty Girl, you better come with us,” Zara said.

        “Obviously,” replied Pretty Girl.  It was hard to say for sure, but Zara was sure she detected an avian eye roll.

         

        ~~~

         

        They sat outside under a sunshade to eat rather than cause any upset inside the cafe.  Zara fancied an omelette but Pretty Girl objected, so she ordered hash browns instead and a fruit salad for the parrot.  Bertie was a good sport about the strange talking bird after his initial surprise.

        Bertie told her a bit about the ghost sightings, which had only started quite recently.  They started when I started researching him, Zara thought to herself, almost as if he was reaching out. Her imagination was running riot already.

         

        ghost of Isaac Stokes

         

        Bertie showed Zara around the church, a small building made of sandstone, but no ghost appeared in the bright heat of the afternoon.  He took her on a little tour of Camden, once a tiny outpost but now a suburb of the city, pointing out all the original buildings, in particular the ones that Isaac had built.  The church was walking distance of Bertie’s house and Zara decided to slip out and stroll over there after everyone had gone to bed.

        Bertie had kindly allowed Pretty Girl to stay in the guest bedroom with her, safe from the cats, and Zara intended that the parrot stay in the room, but Pretty Girl was having none of it and insisted on joining her.

        “Alright then, but no talking!  I  don’t want you scaring any ghost away so just keep a low profile!”

        The moon was nearly full and it was a pleasant walk to the church.   Pretty Girl fluttered from tree to tree along the sidewalk quietly.  Enchanting aromas of exotic scented flowers wafted into her nostrils and Zara felt warmly relaxed and optimistic.

        Zara was disappointed to find that the church was locked for the night, and realized with a sigh that she should have expected this to be the case.  She wandered around the outside, trying to peer in the windows but there was nothing to be seen as the glass reflected the street lights.   These things are not done in a hurry, she reminded herself, be patient.

        Sitting under a tree on the grassy lawn attempting to open her mind to receiving ghostly communications (she wasn’t quite sure how to do that on purpose, any ghosts she’d seen previously had always been accidental and unexpected)  Pretty Girl landed on her shoulder rather clumsily, pressing something hard and chill against her cheek.

        “I told you to keep a low profile!” Zara hissed, as the parrot dropped the key into her lap.  “Oh! is this the key to the church door?”

        It was hard to see in the dim light but Zara was sure the parrot nodded, and was that another avian eye roll?

        Zara walked slowly over the grass to the church door, tingling with anticipation.   Pretty Girl hopped along the ground behind her.  She turned the key in the lock and slowly pushed open the heavy door and walked inside and  up the central aisle, looking around.  And then she saw him.

        Zara gasped. For a breif moment as the spectral wisps cleared, he looked almost solid.  And she could see his tattoos.

        “Oh my god,” she whispered, “It is really you. I recognize those tattoos from the description in the criminal registers. Some of them anyway, it seems you have a few more tats since you were transported.”

        “Aye, I did that, wench. I were allays fond o’ me tats, does tha like ’em?”

        He actually spoke to me!  This was beyond Zara’s wildest hopes. Quick, ask him some questions!

        “If you don’t mind me asking, Isaac, why did you lie about who your father was on your marriage register?  I almost thought it wasn’t you, you know, that I had the wrong Isaac Stokes.”

        A deafening rumbling laugh filled the building with echoes and the apparition dispersed in a labyrinthine swirl of tattood wisps.

        “A story for another day,” whispered Zara,  “Time to go back to Berties. Come on Pretty Girl. And put that key back where you found it.”

         

        Ghost of Isaac Stokes

        #6372
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          About Badul

          5 important keywords linked to Badul

          Badul

          1. Action-space-time
          2. Harmonic fluid
          3. Rhythm
          4. Scale
          5. Choosing without limits.

          Imagine four friends, Jib, Franci, Tracy, and Eric, who are all deeply connected through their shared passion for music and performance. They often spend hours together creating and experimenting with different sounds and rhythms.

          One day, as they were playing together, they found that their combined energy had created a new essence, which they named Badul. This new essence was formed from the unique combination of their individual energies and personalities, and it quickly grew in autonomy and began to explore the world around it.

          As Badul began to explore, it discovered that it had the ability to understand and create complex rhythms, and that it could use this ability to bring people together and help them find a sense of connection and purpose.

          As Badul traveled, it would often come across individuals who were struggling to find their way in life. It would use its ability to create rhythm and connection to help these individuals understand themselves better and make the choices that were right for them.

          In the scene, Badul is exploring a city, playing with the rhythms of the city, through the traffic, the steps of people, the ambiance. Badul would observe a person walking in the streets, head down, lost in thoughts. Badul would start playing a subtle tune, and as the person hears it, starts to walk with the rhythm, head up, starting to smile.

          As the person continues to walk and follow the rhythm created by Badul, he begins to notice things he had never noticed before and begins to feel a sense of connection to the world around him. The music created by Badul serves as a guide, helping the person to understand himself and make the choices that will lead to a happier, more fulfilled life.

          In this way, Badul’s focus is to bring people together, to connect them to themselves and to the world around them through the power of rhythm and music, and to be an ally in the search of personal revelation and understanding.

          #6352
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The Birmingham Bootmaker

            Samuel Jones 1816-1875

             

            Samuel Jones the elder was born in Belfast circa 1779.  He is one of just two direct ancestors found thus far born in Ireland.  Samuel married Jane Elizabeth Brooker (born in St Giles, London) on the 25th January 1807 at St George, Hanover Square in London.  Their first child Mary was born in 1808 in London, and then the family moved to Birmingham. Mary was my 3x great grandmother.

            But this chapter is about her brother Samuel Jones.  I noticed that on a number of other trees on the Ancestry site, Samuel Jones was a convict transported to Australia, but this didn’t tally with the records I’d found for Samuel in Birmingham.  In fact another Samuel Jones born at the same time in the same place was transported, but his occupation was a baker.  Our Samuel Jones was a bootmaker like his father.

            Samuel was born on 28th January 1816 in Birmingham and baptised at St Phillips on the 19th August of that year, the fourth child and first son of Samuel the elder and Jane’s eleven children.

            On the 1839 electoral register a Samuel Jones owned a property on Colmore Row, Birmingham.

            Samuel Jones, bootmaker of 15, Colmore Row is listed in the 1849 Birmingham post office directory, and in the 1855 White’s Directory.

            On the 1851 census, Samuel was an unmarried bootmaker employing sixteen men at 15, Colmore Row.  A 9 year old nephew Henry Harris was living with him, and his mother Ruth Harris, as well as a female servant.  Samuel’s sister Ruth was born in 1818 and married Henry Harris in 1840. Henry died in 1848.

            Samuel was a 45 year old bootmaker at 15 Colmore Row on the 1861 census, living with Maria Walcot, a 26 year old domestic servant.

            In October 1863 Samuel married Maria Walcot at St Philips in Birmingham.  They don’t appear to have had any children as none appear on the 1871 census, where Samuel and Maria are living at the same address, with another female servant and two male lodgers by the name of Messant from Ipswich.

            Marriage of Samuel Jones and Maria Walcot:

            1863 Samuel Jones

             

            In 1864 Samuel’s father died.  Samuel the son is mentioned in the probate records as one of the executors: “Samuel Jones of Colmore Row Birmingham in the county of Warwick boot and shoe manufacturer the son”.

            1864 Samuel Jones

             

            Indeed it could hardly be clearer that this Samuel Jones was not the convict transported to Australia in 1834!

             

            In 1867 Samuel Jones, bootmaker, was mentioned in the Birmingham Daily Gazette with regard to an unfortunate incident involving his American lodger, Cory McFarland.  The verdict was accidental death.

            Birmingham Daily Gazette – Friday 05 April 1867:

            Cory McFarland 1

             

            I asked a Birmingham history group for an old photo of Colmore Row. This photo is circa 1870 and number 15 is furthest from the camera.  The businesses on the street at the time were as follows:

            7 homeopathic chemist George John Morris. 8 surgeon dentist Frederick Sims. 9 Saul & Walter Samuel, Australian merchants. Surgeons occupied 10, pawnbroker John Aaron at 11 & 12. 15 boot & shoemaker. 17 auctioneer…

            Colmore Row 1870

             

            from Bird’s Eye View of Birmingham, 1886:

            Birmingham 1886

            #6348
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Wong Sang

               

              Wong Sang was born in China in 1884. In October 1916 he married Alice Stokes in Oxford.

              Alice was the granddaughter of William Stokes of Churchill, Oxfordshire and William was the brother of Thomas Stokes the wheelwright (who was my 3X great grandfather). In other words Alice was my second cousin, three times removed, on my fathers paternal side.

              Wong Sang was an interpreter, according to the baptism registers of his children and the Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital admission registers in 1930.  The hospital register also notes that he was employed by the Blue Funnel Line, and that his address was 11, Limehouse Causeway, E 14. (London)

              “The Blue Funnel Line offered regular First-Class Passenger and Cargo Services From the UK to South Africa, Malaya, China, Japan, Australia, Java, and America.  Blue Funnel Line was Owned and Operated by Alfred Holt & Co., Liverpool.
              The Blue Funnel Line, so-called because its ships have a blue funnel with a black top, is more appropriately known as the Ocean Steamship Company.”

               

              Wong Sang and Alice’s daughter, Frances Eileen Sang, was born on the 14th July, 1916 and baptised in 1920 at St Stephen in Poplar, Tower Hamlets, London.  The birth date is noted in the 1920 baptism register and would predate their marriage by a few months, although on the death register in 1921 her age at death is four years old and her year of birth is recorded as 1917.

              Charles Ronald Sang was baptised on the same day in May 1920, but his birth is recorded as April of that year.  The family were living on Morant Street, Poplar.

              James William Sang’s birth is recorded on the 1939 census and on the death register in 2000 as being the 8th March 1913.  This definitely would predate the 1916 marriage in Oxford.

              William Norman Sang was born on the 17th October 1922 in Poplar.

              Alice and the three sons were living at 11, Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census, the same address that Wong Sang was living at when he was admitted to Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital on the 15th January 1930. Wong Sang died in the hospital on the 8th March of that year at the age of 46.

              Alice married John Patterson in 1933 in Stepney. John was living with Alice and her three sons on Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census and his occupation was chef.

              Via Old London Photographs:

              “Limehouse Causeway is a street in east London that was the home to the original Chinatown of London. A combination of bomb damage during the Second World War and later redevelopment means that almost nothing is left of the original buildings of the street.”

              Limehouse Causeway in 1925:

              Limehouse Causeway

               

              From The Story of Limehouse’s Lost Chinatown, poplarlondon website:

              “Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown, home to a tightly-knit community who were demonised in popular culture and eventually erased from the cityscape.

              As recounted in the BBC’s ‘Our Greatest Generation’ series, Connie was born to a Chinese father and an English mother in early 1920s Limehouse, where she used to play in the street with other British and British-Chinese children before running inside for teatime at one of their houses. 

              Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown between the 1880s and the 1960s, before the current Chinatown off Shaftesbury Avenue was established in the 1970s by an influx of immigrants from Hong Kong. 

              Connie’s memories of London’s first Chinatown as an “urban village” paint a very different picture to the seedy area portrayed in early twentieth century novels. 

              The pyramid in St Anne’s church marked the entrance to the opium den of Dr Fu Manchu, a criminal mastermind who threatened Western society by plotting world domination in a series of novels by Sax Rohmer. 

              Thomas Burke’s Limehouse Nights cemented stereotypes about prostitution, gambling and violence within the Chinese community, and whipped up anxiety about sexual relationships between Chinese men and white women. 

              Though neither novelist was familiar with the Chinese community, their depictions made Limehouse one of the most notorious areas of London. 

              Travel agent Thomas Cook even organised tours of the area for daring visitors, despite the rector of Limehouse warning that “those who look for the Limehouse of Mr Thomas Burke simply will not find it.”

              All that remains is a handful of Chinese street names, such as Ming Street, Pekin Street, and Canton Street — but what was Limehouse’s chinatown really like, and why did it get swept away?

              Chinese migration to Limehouse 

              Chinese sailors discharged from East India Company ships settled in the docklands from as early as the 1780s.

              By the late nineteenth century, men from Shanghai had settled around Pennyfields Lane, while a Cantonese community lived on Limehouse Causeway. 

              Chinese sailors were often paid less and discriminated against by dock hirers, and so began to diversify their incomes by setting up hand laundry services and restaurants. 

              Old photographs show shopfronts emblazoned with Chinese characters with horse-drawn carts idling outside or Chinese men in suits and hats standing proudly in the doorways. 

              In oral histories collected by Yat Ming Loo, Connie’s husband Leslie doesn’t recall seeing any Chinese women as a child, since male Chinese sailors settled in London alone and married working-class English women. 

              In the 1920s, newspapers fear-mongered about interracial marriages, crime and gambling, and described chinatown as an East End “colony.” 

              Ironically, Chinese opium-smoking was also demonised in the press, despite Britain waging war against China in the mid-nineteenth century for suppressing the opium trade to alleviate addiction amongst its people. 

              The number of Chinese people who settled in Limehouse was also greatly exaggerated, and in reality only totalled around 300. 

              The real Chinatown 

              Although the press sought to characterise Limehouse as a monolithic Chinese community in the East End, Connie remembers seeing people of all nationalities in the shops and community spaces in Limehouse.

              She doesn’t remember feeling discriminated against by other locals, though Connie does recall having her face measured and IQ tested by a member of the British Eugenics Society who was conducting research in the area. 

              Some of Connie’s happiest childhood memories were from her time at Chung-Hua Club, where she learned about Chinese culture and language.

              Why did Chinatown disappear? 

              The caricature of Limehouse’s Chinatown as a den of vice hastened its erasure. 

              Police raids and deportations fuelled by the alarmist media coverage threatened the Chinese population of Limehouse, and slum clearance schemes to redevelop low-income areas dispersed Chinese residents in the 1930s. 

              The Defence of the Realm Act imposed at the beginning of the First World War criminalised opium use, gave the authorities increased powers to deport Chinese people and restricted their ability to work on British ships.

              Dwindling maritime trade during World War II further stripped Chinese sailors of opportunities for employment, and any remnants of Chinatown were destroyed during the Blitz or erased by postwar development schemes.”

               

              Wong Sang 1884-1930

              The year 1918 was a troublesome one for Wong Sang, an interpreter and shipping agent for Blue Funnel Line.  The Sang family were living at 156, Chrisp Street.

              Chrisp Street, Poplar, in 1913 via Old London Photographs:

              Chrisp Street

               

              In February Wong Sang was discharged from a false accusation after defending his home from potential robbers.

              East End News and London Shipping Chronicle – Friday 15 February 1918:

              1918 Wong Sang

               

              In August of that year he was involved in an incident that left him unconscious.

              Faringdon Advertiser and Vale of the White Horse Gazette – Saturday 31 August 1918:

              1918 Wong Sang 2

               

              Wong Sang is mentioned in an 1922 article about “Oriental London”.

              London and China Express – Thursday 09 February 1922:

              1922 Wong Sang

              A photograph of the Chee Kong Tong Chinese Freemason Society mentioned in the above article, via Old London Photographs:

              Chee Kong Tong

               

              Wong Sang was recommended by the London Metropolitan Police in 1928 to assist in a case in Wellingborough, Northampton.

              Difficulty of Getting an Interpreter: Northampton Mercury – Friday 16 March 1928:

              1928 Wong Sang

              1928 Wong Sang 2

              The difficulty was that “this man speaks the Cantonese language only…the Northeners and the Southerners in China have differing languages and the interpreter seemed to speak one that was in between these two.”

               

              In 1917, Alice Wong Sang was a witness at her sister Harriet Stokes marriage to James William Watts in Southwark, London.  Their father James Stokes occupation on the marriage register is foreman surveyor, but on the census he was a council roadman or labourer. (I initially rejected this as the correct marriage for Harriet because of the discrepancy with the occupations. Alice Wong Sang as a witness confirmed that it was indeed the correct one.)

              1917 Alice Wong Sang

               

               

              James William Sang 1913-2000 was a clock fitter and watch assembler (on the 1939 census). He married Ivy Laura Fenton in 1963 in Sidcup, Kent. James died in Southwark in 2000.

              Charles Ronald Sang 1920-1974  was a draughtsman (1939 census). He married Eileen Burgess in 1947 in Marylebone.  Charles and Eileen had two sons:  Keith born in 1951 and Roger born in 1952.  He died in 1974 in Hertfordshire.

              William Norman Sang 1922-2000 was a clerk and telephone operator (1939 census).  William enlisted in the Royal Artillery in 1942. He married Lily Mullins in 1949 in Bethnal Green, and they had three daughters: Marion born in 1950, Christine in 1953, and Frances in 1959.  He died in Redbridge in 2000.

               

              I then found another two births registered in Poplar by Alice Sang, both daughters.  Doris Winifred Sang was born in 1925, and Patricia Margaret Sang was born in 1933 ~ three years after Wong Sang’s death.  Neither of the these daughters were on the 1939 census with Alice, John Patterson and the three sons.  Margaret had presumably been evacuated because of the war to a family in Taunton, Somerset. Doris would have been fourteen and I have been unable to find her in 1939 (possibly because she died in 2017 and has not had the redaction removed  yet on the 1939 census as only deceased people are viewable).

              Doris Winifred Sang 1925-2017 was a nursing sister. She didn’t marry, and spent a year in USA between 1954 and 1955. She stayed in London, and died at the age of ninety two in 2017.

              Patricia Margaret Sang 1933-1998 was also a nurse. She married Patrick L Nicely in Stepney in 1957.  Patricia and Patrick had five children in London: Sharon born 1959, Donald in 1960, Malcolm was born and died in 1966, Alison was born in 1969 and David in 1971.

               

              I was unable to find a birth registered for Alice’s first son, James William Sang (as he appeared on the 1939 census).  I found Alice Stokes on the 1911 census as a 17 year old live in servant at a tobacconist on Pekin Street, Limehouse, living with Mr Sui Fong from Hong Kong and his wife Sarah Sui Fong from Berlin.  I looked for a birth registered for James William Fong instead of Sang, and found it ~ mothers maiden name Stokes, and his date of birth matched the 1939 census: 8th March, 1913.

              On the 1921 census, Wong Sang is not listed as living with them but it is mentioned that Mr Wong Sang was the person returning the census.  Also living with Alice and her sons James and Charles in 1921 are two visitors:  (Florence) May Stokes, 17 years old, born in Woodstock, and Charles Stokes, aged 14, also born in Woodstock. May and Charles were Alice’s sister and brother.

               

              I found Sharon Nicely on social media and she kindly shared photos of Wong Sang and Alice Stokes:

              Wong Sang

               

              Alice Stokes

              #6340
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Wheelwrights of Broadway

                Thomas Stokes 1816-1885

                Frederick Stokes 1845-1917

                Stokes Wheelwrights

                Stokes Wheelwrights. Fred on left of wheel, Thomas his father on right.

                Thomas Stokes

                Thomas Stokes was born in Bicester, Oxfordshire in 1816. He married Eliza Browning (born in 1814 in Tetbury, Gloucestershire) in Gloucester in 1840 Q3. Their first son William was baptised in Chipping Hill, Witham, Essex, on 3 Oct 1841. This seems a little unusual, and I can’t find Thomas and Eliza on the 1841 census. However both the 1851 and 1861 census state that William was indeed born in Essex.

                In 1851 Thomas and Eliza were living in Bledington, Gloucestershire, and Thomas was a journeyman carpenter.

                Note that a journeyman does not mean someone who moved around a lot. A journeyman was a tradesman who had served his trade apprenticeship and mastered his craft, not bound to serve a master, but originally hired by the day. The name derives from the French for day – jour.

                Also on the 1851 census: their daughter Susan, born in Churchill Oxfordshire in 1844; son Frederick born in Bledington Gloucestershire in 1846; daughter Louisa born in Foxcote Oxfordshire in 1849; and 2 month old daughter Harriet born in Bledington in 1851.

                On the 1861 census Thomas and Eliza were living in Evesham, Worcestershire, and daughter Susan was no longer living at home, but William, Fred, Louisa and Harriet were, as well as daughter Emily born in Churchill Oxfordshire in 1856. Thomas was a wheelwright.

                On the 1871 census Thomas and Eliza were still living in Evesham, and Thomas was a wheelwright employing three apprentices. Son Fred, also a wheelwright, and his wife Ann Rebecca live with them.

                Mr Stokes, wheelwright, was found guilty of reprehensible conduct in concealing the fact that small-pox existed in his house, according to a mention in The Oxfordshire Weekly News on Wednesday 19 February 1873:

                Stokes smallpox 1873

                 

                 

                From Paul Weaver’s ancestry website:

                “It was Thomas Stokes who built the first “Famous Vale of Evesham Light Gardening Dray for a Half-Legged Horse to Trot” (the quotation is from his account book), the forerunner of many that became so familiar a sight in the towns and villages from the 1860s onwards. He built many more for the use of the Vale gardeners.

                Thomas also had long-standing business dealings with the people of the circus and fairgrounds, and had a contract to effect necessary repairs and renewals to their waggons whenever they visited the district. He built living waggons for many of the show people’s families as well as shooting galleries and other equipment peculiar to the trade of his wandering customers, and among the names figuring in his books are some still familiar today, such as Wilsons and Chipperfields.

                He is also credited with inventing the wooden “Mushroom” which was used by housewives for many years to darn socks. He built and repaired all kinds of vehicles for the gentry as well as for the circus and fairground travellers.

                Later he lived with his wife at Merstow Green, Evesham, in a house adjoining the Almonry.”

                 

                An excerpt from the book Evesham Inns and Signs by T.J.S. Baylis:

                Thomas Stokes dray

                The Old Red Horse, Evesham:

                Old Red Horse

                 

                Thomas died in 1885 aged 68 of paralysis, bronchitis and debility.  His wife Eliza a year later in 1886.

                 

                Frederick Stokes

                In Worcester in 1870 Fred married Ann Rebecca Day, who was born in Evesham in 1845.

                Ann Rebecca Day:

                Rebecca Day

                 

                In 1871 Fred was still living with his parents in Evesham, with his wife Ann Rebecca as well as their three month old daughter Annie Elizabeth. Fred and Ann (referred to as Rebecca) moved to La Quinta on Main Street, Broadway.

                 

                Rebecca Stokes in the doorway of La Quinta on Main Street Broadway, with her grandchildren Ralph and Dolly Edwards:

                La Quinta

                 

                Fred was a wheelwright employing one man on the 1881 census. In 1891 they were still in Broadway, Fred’s occupation was wheelwright and coach painter, as well as his fifteen year old son Frederick.

                In the Evesham Journal on Saturday 10 December 1892 it was reported that  “Two cases of scarlet fever, the children of Mr. Stokes, wheelwright, Broadway, were certified by Mr. C. W. Morris to be isolated.”

                 

                Still in Broadway in 1901 and Fred’s son Albert was also a wheelwright.  By 1911 Fred and Rebecca had only one son living at home in Broadway, Reginald, who was a coach painter. Fred was still a wheelwright aged 65.

                Fred’s signature on the 1911 census:

                1911 La Quinta

                Rebecca died in 1912 and Fred in 1917.

                Fred Stokes:

                Fred Stokes

                 

                In the book Evesham to Bredon From Old Photographs By Fred Archer:

                Stokes 1

                Stokes 2

                #6337
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Annie Elizabeth Stokes

                  1871-1961

                  “Grandma E”

                  Annie Stokes

                   

                  Annie, my great grandmother, was born 2 Jan 1871 in Merstow Green, Evesham, Worcestershire.  Her father Fred Stokes was a wheelwright.  On  the 1771 census in Merston Green Annie was 3 months old and there was quite a houseful: Annies parents Fred and Rebecca, Fred’s parents Thomas and Eliza and two of their daughters, three apprentices, a lodger and one of Thomas’s grandsons.

                  1771 census Merstow Green, Evesham:

                  1771 census

                   

                  Annie at school in the early 1870s in Broadway. Annie is in the front on the left and her brother Fred is in the centre of the first seated row:

                  Annie 1870s Broadway

                   

                  In 1881 Annie was a 10 year old visitor at the Angel Inn, Chipping Camden. A boarder there was 19 year old William Halford, a wheelwright apprentice.  John Such, a 62 year old widower, was the innkeeper. Her parents and two siblings were living at La Quinta, on Main Street in Broadway.

                  According to her obituary in 1962, “When the Maxton family visited Broadway to stay with Mr and Madame de Navarro at Court Farm, they offered Annie a family post with them which took her for several years to Paris and other parts of the continent.”

                  Mary Anderson was an American theatre actress. In 1890 she married Antonio Fernando de Navarro. She became known as Mary Anderson de Navarro. They settled at Court Farm in the Cotswolds, Broadway, Worcestershire, where she cultivated an interest in music and became a noted hostess with a distinguished circle of musical, literary and ecclesiastical guests. As in the years when Mary lived there, it was often filled with visiting artists and musicians, including Myra Hess and a young Jacqueline du Pré. (via Wikipedia)

                  Court Farm, Broadway:

                  Court Farm Broadway

                   

                   

                  Annie was an assistant to a tobacconist in West Bromwich in 1991, living as a boarder with William Calcutt and family.  He future husband Albert was living in neighbouring Tipton in 1891, working at a pawnbroker apprenticeship.

                  Annie married Albert Parker Edwards in 1898 in Evesham. On the 1901 census, she was in hospital in Redditch.

                  By 1911, Anne and Albert had five children and were living at the Cricketers Arms in Redditch.

                  cricketers arms

                   

                  Behind the bar in 1904 shortly after taking over at the Cricketers Arms. From a book on Redditch pubs:

                  cricketers

                   

                  Annie was referred to in later years as Grandma E, probably to differentiate between her and my fathers Grandma T, as both lived to a great age.

                  Annie with her grandson Reg on the left and her daughter in law Peggy on the right, in the early 1950s:

                  1950 Annie

                   

                  Annie at my christening in 1959:

                  1959 christening

                   

                  Annie died 30 Dec 1961, aged 90, at Ravenscourt nursing home, Redditch. Her obituary in the Droitwich Guardian in January 1962:

                  Annie obit

                  Note that this obituary contains an obvious error: Annie’s father was Frederick Stokes, and Thomas was his father.

                  #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

                      #6318

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      “You’d better sit down,” said Olga gesturing to the end of her bed. As a rule, she did not have visitors so she saw no need to clutter up the available space in her tiny room with an extra chair. A large proportion of her life was spent in her armchair and she was content that way. While Egbert perched on the end of the bed, she lowered herself into the soft and familiar confines of her armchair and felt instantly soothed. It was true, sometimes she felt a tinge of regret when she considered how disappointed her younger self would be to see her now. But she hadn’t lived through what I’ve lived through so she can mind her own damn business,” she thought.

                      “It is just a story, twisted in the telling I expect.” Olga knew her voice held no conviction.

                      Egbert opened his mouth as though to speak. Closed it again.

                      “You look like a fish,” said Olga folding her arms.

                      “They say you and the Mayor go back a long way. Are you telling me that is not true?

                      “And what if we do?”

                      “You know he is Ursula’s uncle and a very powerful man. They say even the great president Voldomeer Zumbaskee holds him in great regard. They say …”

                      “Pfft! They say!” snapped Olga. “Who are these chattering fools you listen to, Egbert Gofindlevsky?  I’d rather end up on the streets than ask a favour from that mountebank.”

                      Egbert jumped up from the bed and shook a fist at her. “And end up on the streets you will, Olga Herringbonevsky, along with the rest of us. You really want that on  your conscience?”

                      #6313

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      Egbert Gofindlevsky rapped on the door of room number 22.  The letter flapped against his pin striped trouser leg as his hand shook uncontrollably, his habitual tremor exacerbated with the shock.  Remembering that Obadiah Sproutwinklov was deaf, he banged loudly on the door with the flat of his hand.  Eventually the door creaked open.

                      Egbert flapped the letter in from of Obadiah’s face.  “Have you had one of these?” he asked.

                      “If you’d stop flapping it about I might be able to see what it is,” Obadiah replied.  “Oh that!  As a matter of fact I’ve had one just like it. The devils work, I tell you!  A practical joke, and in very poor taste!”

                      Egbert was starting to wish he’d gone to see Olga Herringbonevsky first.  “Can I come in?” he hissed, “So we can discuss it in private?”

                      Reluctantly Obadiah pulled the door open and ushered him inside the room.  Egbert looked around for a place to sit, but upon noticing a distinct odour of urine decided to remain standing.

                      “Ursula is booting us out, where are we to go?”

                      “Eh?” replied Obadiah, cupping his ear. “Speak up, man!”

                      Egbert repeated his question.

                      “No need to shout!”

                      The two old men endeavoured to conduct a conversation on this unexepected turn of events, the upshot being that Obadiah had no intention of leaving his room at all henceforth, come what may, and would happily starve to death in his room rather than take to the streets.

                      Egbert considered this form of action unhelpful, as he himself had no wish to starve to death in his room, so he removed himself from room 22 with a disgruntled sigh and made his way to Olga’s room on the third floor.

                      #6284
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        To Australia

                        Grettons

                        Charles Herbert Gretton 1876-1954

                        Charles Gretton, my great grandmothers youngest brother, arrived in Sydney Australia on 12 February 1912, having set sail on 5 January 1912 from London. His occupation on the passenger list was stockman, and he was traveling alone.  Later that year, in October, his wife and two sons sailed out to join him.

                        Gretton 1912 passenger

                         

                        Charles was born in Swadlincote.  He married Mary Anne Illsley, a local girl from nearby Church Gresley, in 1898. Their first son, Leslie Charles Bloemfontein Gretton, was born in 1900 in Church Gresley, and their second son, George Herbert Gretton, was born in 1910 in Swadlincote.  In 1901 Charles was a colliery worker, and on the 1911 census, his occupation was a sanitary ware packer.

                        Charles and Mary Anne had two more sons, both born in Footscray:  Frank Orgill Gretton in 1914, and Arthur Ernest Gretton in 1920.

                        On the Australian 1914 electoral rolls, Charles and Mary Ann were living at 72 Moreland Street, Footscray, and in 1919 at 134 Cowper Street, Footscray, and Charles was a labourer.  In 1924, Charles was a sub foreman, living at 3, Ryan Street E, Footscray, Australia.  On a later electoral register, Charles was a foreman.  Footscray is a suburb of Melbourne, and developed into an industrial zone in the second half of the nineteenth century.

                        Charles died in Victoria in 1954 at the age of 77. His wife Mary Ann died in 1958.

                        Gretton obit 1954

                         

                        Charles and Mary Ann Gretton:

                        Charles and Mary Ann Gretton

                         

                        Leslie Charles Bloemfontein Gretton 1900-1955

                        Leslie was an electrician.   He married Ethel Christine Halliday, born in 1900 in Footscray, in 1927.  They had four children: Tom, Claire, Nancy and Frank. By 1943 they were living in Yallourn.  Yallourn, Victoria was a company town in Victoria, Australia built between the 1920s and 1950s to house employees of the State Electricity Commission of Victoria, who operated the nearby Yallourn Power Station complex. However, expansion of the adjacent open-cut brown coal mine led to the closure and removal of the town in the 1980s.

                        On the 1954 electoral registers, daughter Claire Elizabeth Gretton, occupation teacher, was living at the same address as Leslie and Ethel.

                        Leslie died in Yallourn in 1955, and Ethel nine years later in 1964, also in Yallourn.

                         

                        George Herbert Gretton 1910-1970

                        George married Florence May Hall in 1934 in Victoria, Australia.  In 1942 George was listed on the electoral roll as a grocer, likewise in 1949. In 1963 his occupation was a process worker, and in 1968 in Flinders, a horticultural advisor.

                        George died in Lang Lang, not far from Melbourne, in 1970.

                         

                        Frank Orgill Gretton 1914-

                        Arthur Ernest Gretton 1920-

                         

                        Orgills

                        John Orgill 1835-1911

                        John Orgill was Charles Herbert Gretton’s uncle.  He emigrated to Australia in 1865, and married Elizabeth Mary Gladstone 1845-1926 in Victoria in 1870. Their first child was born in December that year, in Dandenong. They had seven children, and their three sons all have the middle name Gladstone.

                        John Orgill was a councillor for the Shire of Dandenong in 1873, and between 1876 and 1879.

                        John Orgill:

                        John Orgill

                         

                        John Orgill obituary in the South Bourke and Mornington Journal, 21 December 1911:

                        John Orgill obit

                         

                         

                        John’s wife Elizabeth Orgill, a teacher and a “a public spirited lady” according to newspaper articles, opened a hydropathic hospital in Dandenong called Gladstone House.

                        Elizabeth Gladstone Orgill:

                        Elizabeth Gladstone Orgill

                         

                        On the Old Dandenong website:

                        Gladstone House hydropathic hospital on the corner of Langhorne and Foster streets (153 Foster Street) Dandenong opened in 1896, working on the theory of water therapy, no medicine or operations. Her husband passed away in 1911 at 77, around similar time Dr Barclay Thompson obtained control of the practice. Mrs Orgill remaining on in some capacity.

                        Elizabeth Mary Orgill (nee Gladstone) operated Gladstone House until at least 1911, along with another hydropathic hospital (Birthwood) on Cheltenham road. She was the daughter of William Gladstone (Nephew of William Ewart Gladstone, UK prime minister in 1874).

                        Around 1912 Dr A. E. Taylor took over the location from Dr. Barclay Thompson. Mrs Orgill was still working here but no longer controlled the practice, having given it up to Barclay. Taylor served as medical officer for the Shire for before his death in 1939. After Taylor’s death Dr. T. C. Reeves bought his practice in 1939, later that year being appointed medical officer,

                        Gladstone Road in Dandenong is named after her family, who owned and occupied a farming paddock in the area on former Police Paddock ground, the Police reserve having earlier been reduced back to Stud Road.

                        Hydropathy (now known as Hydrotherapy) and also called water cure, is a part of medicine and alternative medicine, in particular of naturopathy, occupational therapy and physiotherapy, that involves the use of water for pain relief and treatment.

                        Gladstone House, Dandenong:

                        Gladstone House

                         

                         

                        John’s brother Robert Orgill 1830-1915 also emigrated to Australia. I met (online) his great great grand daughter Lidya Orgill via the Old Dandenong facebook group.

                        John’s other brother Thomas Orgill 1833-1908 also emigrated to the same part of Australia.

                        Thomas Orgill:

                        Thomas Orgill

                         

                        One of Thomas Orgills sons was George Albert Orgill 1880-1949:

                        George Albert Orgill

                         

                        A letter was published in The South Bourke & Mornington Journal (Richmond, Victoria, Australia) on 17 Jun 1915, to Tom Orgill, Emerald Hill (South Melbourne) from hospital by his brother George Albert Orgill (4th Pioneers) describing landing of Covering Party prior to dawn invasion of Gallipoli:

                        George Albert Orgill letter

                         

                        Another brother Henry Orgill 1837-1916 was born in Measham and died in Dandenong, Australia. Henry was a bricklayer living in Measham on the 1861 census. Also living with his widowed mother Elizabeth at that address was his sister Sarah and her husband Richard Gretton, the baker (my great great grandparents). In October of that year he sailed to Melbourne.  His occupation was bricklayer on his death records in 1916.

                        Two of Henry’s sons, Arthur Garfield Orgill born 1888 and Ernest Alfred Orgill born 1880 were killed in action in 1917 and buried in Nord-Pas-de-Calais, France. Another son, Frederick Stanley Orgill, died in 1897 at the age of seven.

                        A fifth brother, William Orgill 1842-   sailed from Liverpool to Melbourne in 1861, at 19 years of age. Four years later in 1865 he sailed from Victoria, Australia to New Zealand.

                         

                        I assumed I had found all of the Orgill brothers who went to Australia, and resumed research on the Orgills in Measham, in England. A search in the British Newspaper Archives for Orgills in Measham revealed yet another Orgill brother who had gone to Australia.

                        Matthew Orgill 1828-1907 went to South Africa and to Australia, but returned to Measham.

                        The Orgill brothers had two sisters. One was my great great great grandmother Sarah, and the other was Hannah.  Hannah married Francis Hart in Measham. One of her sons, John Orgill Hart 1862-1909, was born in Measham.  On the 1881 census he was a 19 year old carpenters apprentice.  Two years later in 1883 he was listed as a joiner on the passenger list of the ship Illawarra, bound for Australia.   His occupation at the time of his death in Dandenong in 1909 was contractor.

                        An additional coincidental note about Dandenong: my step daughter Emily’s Australian partner is from Dandenong.

                         

                         

                        Housleys

                        Charles Housley 1823-1856

                        Charles Housley emigrated to Australia in 1851, the same year that his brother George emigrated to USA.  Charles is mentioned in the Narrative on the Letters by Barbara Housley, and appears in the Housley Letters chapters.

                         

                        Rushbys

                        George “Mike” Rushby 1933-

                        Mike moved to Australia from South Africa. His story is a separate chapter.

                        #6281
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          The Measham Thatchers

                          Orgills, Finches and Wards

                          Measham is a large village in north west Leicestershire, England, near the Derbyshire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire boundaries. Our family has a penchant for border straddling, and the Orgill’s of Measham take this a step further living on the boundaries of four counties.  Historically it was in an exclave of Derbyshire absorbed into Leicestershire in 1897, so once again we have two sets of county records to search.

                          ORGILL

                          Richard Gretton, the baker of Swadlincote and my great grandmother Florence Nightingale Grettons’ father, married Sarah Orgill (1840-1910) in 1861.

                          (Incidentally, Florence Nightingale Warren nee Gretton’s first child Hildred born in 1900 had the middle name Orgill. Florence’s brother John Orgill Gretton emigrated to USA.)

                          When they first married, they lived with Sarah’s widowed mother Elizabeth in Measham.  Elizabeth Orgill is listed on the 1861 census as a farmer of two acres.

                          Sarah Orgill’s father Matthew Orgill (1798-1859) was a thatcher, as was his father Matthew Orgill (1771-1852).

                          Matthew Orgill the elder left his property to his son Henry:

                          Matthew Orgills will

                           

                          Sarah’s mother Elizabeth (1803-1876) was also an Orgill before her marriage to Matthew.

                          According to Pigot & Co’s Commercial Directory for Derbyshire, in Measham in 1835 Elizabeth Orgill was a straw bonnet maker, an ideal occupation for a thatchers wife.

                          Matthew Orgill, thatcher, is listed in White’s directory in 1857, and other Orgill’s are mentioned in Measham:

                          Mary Orgill, straw hat maker; Henry Orgill, grocer; Daniel Orgill, painter; another Matthew Orgill is a coal merchant and wheelwright. Likewise a number of Orgill’s are listed in the directories for Measham in the subsequent years, as farmers, plumbers, painters, grocers, thatchers, wheelwrights, coal merchants and straw bonnet makers.

                           

                          Matthew and Elizabeth Orgill, Measham Baptist church:

                          Orgill grave

                           

                          According to a history of thatching, for every six or seven thatchers appearing in the 1851 census there are now less than one.  Another interesting fact in the history of thatched roofs (via thatchinginfo dot com):

                          The Watling Street Divide…
                          The biggest dividing line of all, that between the angular thatching of the Northern and Eastern traditions and the rounded Southern style, still roughly follows a very ancient line; the northern section of the old Roman road of Watling Street, the modern A5. Seemingly of little significance today; this was once the border between two peoples. Agreed in the peace treaty, between the Saxon King Alfred and Guthrum, the Danish Viking leader; over eleven centuries ago.
                          After making their peace, various Viking armies settled down, to the north and east of the old road; firstly, in what was known as The Danelaw and later in Norse kingdoms, based in York. They quickly formed a class of farmers and peasants. Although the Saxon kings soon regained this area; these people stayed put. Their influence is still seen, for example, in the widespread use of boarded gable ends, so common in Danish thatching.
                          Over time, the Southern and Northern traditions have slipped across the old road, by a few miles either way. But even today, travelling across the old highway will often bring the differing thatching traditions quickly into view.

                          Pear Tree Cottage, Bosworth Road, Measham. 1900.  Matthew Orgill was a thatcher living on Bosworth road.

                          Bosworth road

                           

                          FINCH

                          Matthew the elder married Frances Finch 1771-1848, also of Measham.  On the 1851 census Matthew is an 80 year old thatcher living with his daughter Mary and her husband Samuel Piner, a coal miner.

                          Henry Finch 1743- and Mary Dennis 1749- , both of Measham, were Frances parents.  Henry’s father was also Henry Finch, born in 1707 in Measham, and he married Frances Ward, also born in 1707, and also from Measham.

                          WARD

                           

                          The ancient boundary between the kingdom of Mercia and the Danelaw

                          I didn’t find much information on the history of Measham, but I did find a great deal of ancient history on the nearby village of Appleby Magna, two miles away.  The parish records indicate that the Ward and Finch branches of our family date back to the 1500’s in the village, and we can assume that the ancient history of the neighbouring village would be relevant to our history.

                          There is evidence of human settlement in Appleby from the early Neolithic period, 6,000 years ago, and there are also Iron Age and Bronze Age sites in the vicinity.  There is evidence of further activity within the village during the Roman period, including evidence of a villa or farm and a temple.  Appleby is near three known Roman roads: Watling Street, 10 miles south of the village; Bath Lane, 5 miles north of the village; and Salt Street, which forms the parish’s south boundary.

                          But it is the Scandinavian invasions that are particularly intriguing, with regard to my 58% Scandinavian DNA (and virtually 100% Midlands England ancestry). Repton is 13 miles from Measham. In the early 10th century Chilcote, Measham and Willesley were part of the royal Derbyshire estate of Repton.

                          The arrival of Scandinavian invaders in the second half of the ninth century caused widespread havoc throughout northern England. By the AD 870s the Danish army was occupying Mercia and it spent the winter of 873-74 at Repton, the headquarters of the Mercian kings. The events are recorded in detail in the Peterborough manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles…

                          Although the Danes held power for only 40 years, a strong, even subversive, Danish element remained in the population for many years to come. 

                          A Scandinavian influence may also be detected among the field names of the parish. Although many fields have relatively modern names, some clearly have elements which reach back to the time of Danish incursion and control.

                          The Borders:

                          The name ‘aeppel byg’ is given in the will of Wulfic Spot of AD 1004……………..The decision at Domesday to include this land in Derbyshire, as one of Burton Abbey’s Derbyshire manors, resulted in the division of the village of Appleby Magna between the counties of Leicester and Derby for the next 800 years

                          Richard Dunmore’s Appleby Magma website.

                          This division of Appleby between Leicestershire and Derbyshire persisted from Domesday until 1897, when the recently created county councils (1889) simplified the administration of many villages in this area by a radical realignment of the boundary:

                          Appleby

                           

                          I would appear that our family not only straddle county borders, but straddle ancient kingdom borders as well.  This particular branch of the family (we assume, given the absence of written records that far back) were living on the edge of the Danelaw and a strong element of the Danes survives to this day in my DNA.

                           

                          #6271
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            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.)

                            #6269
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              The Housley Letters 

                              From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters.

                               

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

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

                              William and Ellen Marriage

                               

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

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

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

                               

                              ELLEN HOUSLEY 1795-1872

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

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

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

                               

                              Mary’s children:

                              MARY ANN HOUSLEY  1808-1878

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

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

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

                               

                              WILLIAM HOUSLEY JR. 1812-1890

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

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

                               

                              Ellen’s children:

                              JOHN HOUSLEY  1815-1893

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              John Housley

                               

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

                               

                              SAMUEL HOUSLEY 1816-

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

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

                              Housley Deaths

                               

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

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

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

                               

                              EDWARD HOUSLEY 1819-1843

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

                               

                              ANNE HOUSLEY 1821-1856

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              The Carrington Farm:

                              Carringtons Farm

                               

                              CHARLES HOUSLEY 1823-1855

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

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

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

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

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

                               

                              GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                               

                              ROBERT HOUSLEY 1832-1851

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

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

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

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

                               

                              EMMA HOUSLEY 1836-1871

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

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

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

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

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

                              Emma Housley and Edwin Welch Harvey wedding, 1858:

                              Emma Housley wedding

                               

                              JOSEPH HOUSLEY 1838-1893

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              Joseph Housley and the Kiddsley cottages:

                              Joseph Housley

                              #6266
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                From Tanganyika with Love

                                continued part 7

                                With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                                Oldeani Hospital. 19th September 1938

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Mbulu. 30th September 1938

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Mbulu. 25th October 1938

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Iringa. 30th November 1938

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Mchewe Estate, Mbeya. 7th January 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 14th February 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 28th February 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 25th March 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 28th April 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 3rd July 1939.

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Nzassa 5th August 1939

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Splendid Hotel. Dar es Salaam 7th September 1939

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Morogoro 14th September 1939

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Morogoro 4th November 1939

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Iringa 8th December 1939

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Morogoro 10th March 1940

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Morogoro 14th July 1940

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                Morogoro 16th November 1940

                                Dearest Family,

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

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

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

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

                                Eleanor.

                                 

                                #6264
                                TracyTracy
                                Participant

                                  From Tanganyika with Love

                                  continued  ~ part 5

                                  With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                                  Chunya 16th December 1936

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  Since last I wrote I have visited Chunya and met several of the diggers wives.
                                  On the whole I have been greatly disappointed because there is nothing very colourful
                                  about either township or women. I suppose I was really expecting something more like
                                  the goldrush towns and women I have so often seen on the cinema screen.
                                  Chunya consists of just the usual sun-dried brick Indian shops though there are
                                  one or two double storied buildings. Most of the life in the place centres on the
                                  Goldfields Hotel but we did not call there. From the store opposite I could hear sounds
                                  of revelry though it was very early in the afternoon. I saw only one sight which was quite
                                  new to me, some elegantly dressed African women, with high heels and lipsticked
                                  mouths teetered by on their way to the silk store. “Native Tarts,” said George in answer
                                  to my enquiry.

                                  Several women have called on me and when I say ‘called’ I mean called. I have
                                  grown so used to going without stockings and wearing home made dresses that it was
                                  quite a shock to me to entertain these ladies dressed to the nines in smart frocks, silk
                                  stockings and high heeled shoes, handbags, makeup and whatnot. I feel like some
                                  female Rip van Winkle. Most of the women have a smart line in conversation and their
                                  talk and views on life would make your nice straight hair curl Mummy. They make me feel
                                  very unsophisticated and dowdy but George says he has a weakness for such types
                                  and I am to stay exactly as I am. I still do not use any makeup. George says ‘It’s all right
                                  for them. They need it poor things, you don’t.” Which, though flattering, is hardly true.
                                  I prefer the men visitors, though they also are quite unlike what I had expected
                                  diggers to be. Those whom George brings home are all well educated and well
                                  groomed and I enjoy listening to their discussion of the world situation, sport and books.
                                  They are extremely polite to me and gentle with the children though I believe that after a
                                  few drinks at the pub tempers often run high. There were great arguments on the night
                                  following the abdication of Edward VIII. Not that the diggers were particularly attached to
                                  him as a person, but these men are all great individualists and believe in freedom of
                                  choice. George, rather to my surprise, strongly supported Edward. I did not.

                                  Many of the diggers have wireless sets and so we keep up to date with the
                                  news. I seldom leave camp. I have my hands full with the three children during the day
                                  and, even though Janey is a reliable ayah, I would not care to leave the children at night
                                  in these grass roofed huts. Having experienced that fire on the farm, I know just how
                                  unlikely it would be that the children would be rescued in time in case of fire. The other
                                  women on the diggings think I’m crazy. They leave their children almost entirely to ayahs
                                  and I must confess that the children I have seen look very well and happy. The thing is
                                  that I simply would not enjoy parties at the hotel or club, miles away from the children
                                  and I much prefer to stay at home with a book.

                                  I love hearing all about the parties from George who likes an occasional ‘boose
                                  up’ with the boys and is terribly popular with everyone – not only the British but with the
                                  Germans, Scandinavians and even the Afrikaans types. One Afrikaans woman said “Jou
                                  man is ‘n man, al is hy ‘n Engelsman.” Another more sophisticated woman said, “George
                                  is a handsome devil. Aren’t you scared to let him run around on his own?” – but I’m not. I
                                  usually wait up for George with sandwiches and something hot to drink and that way I
                                  get all the news red hot.

                                  There is very little gold coming in. The rains have just started and digging is
                                  temporarily at a standstill. It is too wet for dry blowing and not yet enough water for
                                  panning and sluicing. As this camp is some considerable distance from the claims, all I see of the process is the weighing of the daily taking of gold dust and tiny nuggets.
                                  Unless our luck changes I do not think we will stay on here after John Molteno returns.
                                  George does not care for the life and prefers a more constructive occupation.
                                  Ann and young George still search optimistically for gold. We were all saddened
                                  last week by the death of Fanny, our bull terrier. She went down to the shopping centre
                                  with us and we were standing on the verandah of a store when a lorry passed with its
                                  canvas cover flapping. This excited Fanny who rushed out into the street and the back
                                  wheel of the lorry passed right over her, killing her instantly. Ann was very shocked so I
                                  soothed her by telling her that Fanny had gone to Heaven. When I went to bed that
                                  night I found Ann still awake and she asked anxiously, “Mummy, do you think God
                                  remembered to give Fanny her bone tonight?”

                                  Much love to all,
                                  Eleanor.

                                  Itewe, Chunya 23rd December 1936

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  Your Christmas parcel arrived this morning. Thank you very much for all the
                                  clothing for all of us and for the lovely toys for the children. George means to go hunting
                                  for a young buffalo this afternoon so that we will have some fresh beef for Christmas for
                                  ourselves and our boys and enough for friends too.

                                  I had a fright this morning. Ann and Georgie were, as usual, searching for gold
                                  whilst I sat sewing in the living room with Kate toddling around. She wandered through
                                  the curtained doorway into the store and I heard her playing with the paraffin pump. At
                                  first it did not bother me because I knew the tin was empty but after ten minutes or so I
                                  became irritated by the noise and went to stop her. Imagine my horror when I drew the
                                  curtain aside and saw my fat little toddler fiddling happily with the pump whilst, curled up
                                  behind the tin and clearly visible to me lay the largest puffadder I have ever seen.
                                  Luckily I acted instinctively and scooped Kate up from behind and darted back into the
                                  living room without disturbing the snake. The houseboy and cook rushed in with sticks
                                  and killed the snake and then turned the whole storeroom upside down to make sure
                                  there were no more.

                                  I have met some more picturesque characters since I last wrote. One is a man
                                  called Bishop whom George has known for many years having first met him in the
                                  Congo. I believe he was originally a sailor but for many years he has wandered around
                                  Central Africa trying his hand at trading, prospecting, a bit of elephant hunting and ivory
                                  poaching. He is now keeping himself by doing ‘Sign Writing”. Bish is a gentle and
                                  dignified personality. When we visited his camp he carefully dusted a seat for me and
                                  called me ‘Marm’, quite ye olde world. The only thing is he did spit.

                                  Another spitter is the Frenchman in a neighbouring camp. He is in bed with bad
                                  rheumatism and George has been going across twice a day to help him and cheer him
                                  up. Once when George was out on the claim I went across to the Frenchman’s camp in
                                  response to an SOS, but I think he was just lonely. He showed me snapshots of his
                                  two daughters, lovely girls and extremely smart, and he chatted away telling me his life
                                  history. He punctuated his remarks by spitting to right and left of the bed, everywhere in
                                  fact, except actually at me.

                                  George took me and the children to visit a couple called Bert and Hilda Farham.
                                  They have a small gold reef which is worked by a very ‘Heath Robinson’ type of
                                  machinery designed and erected by Bert who is reputed to be a clever engineer though
                                  eccentric. He is rather a handsome man who always looks very spruce and neat and
                                  wears a Captain Kettle beard. Hilda is from Johannesburg and quite a character. She
                                  has a most generous figure and literally masses of beetroot red hair, but she also has a
                                  warm deep voice and a most generous disposition. The Farhams have built
                                  themselves a more permanent camp than most. They have a brick cottage with proper
                                  doors and windows and have made it attractive with furniture contrived from petrol
                                  boxes. They have no children but Hilda lavishes a great deal of affection on a pet
                                  monkey. Sometimes they do quite well out of their gold and then they have a terrific
                                  celebration at the Club or Pub and Hilda has an orgy of shopping. At other times they
                                  are completely broke but Hilda takes disasters as well as triumphs all in her stride. She
                                  says, “My dear, when we’re broke we just live on tea and cigarettes.”

                                  I have met a young woman whom I would like as a friend. She has a dear little
                                  baby, but unfortunately she has a very wet husband who is also a dreadful bore. I can’t
                                  imagine George taking me to their camp very often. When they came to visit us George
                                  just sat and smoked and said,”Oh really?” to any remark this man made until I felt quite
                                  hysterical. George looks very young and fit and the children are lively and well too. I ,
                                  however, am definitely showing signs of wear and tear though George says,
                                  “Nonsense, to me you look the same as you always did.” This I may say, I do not
                                  regard as a compliment to the young Eleanor.

                                  Anyway, even though our future looks somewhat unsettled, we are all together
                                  and very happy.

                                  With love,
                                  Eleanor.

                                  Itewe, Chunya 30th December 1936

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  We had a very cheery Christmas. The children loved the toys and are so proud
                                  of their new clothes. They wore them when we went to Christmas lunch to the
                                  Cresswell-Georges. The C-Gs have been doing pretty well lately and they have a
                                  comfortable brick house and a large wireless set. The living room was gaily decorated
                                  with bought garlands and streamers and balloons. We had an excellent lunch cooked by
                                  our ex cook Abel who now works for the Cresswell-Georges. We had turkey with
                                  trimmings and plum pudding followed by nuts and raisons and chocolates and sweets
                                  galore. There was also a large variety of drinks including champagne!

                                  There were presents for all of us and, in addition, Georgie and Ann each got a
                                  large tin of chocolates. Kate was much admired. She was a picture in her new party frock
                                  with her bright hair and rosy cheeks. There were other guests beside ourselves and
                                  they were already there having drinks when we arrived. Someone said “What a lovely
                                  child!” “Yes” said George with pride, “She’s a Marie Stopes baby.” “Truby King!” said I
                                  quickly and firmly, but too late to stop the roar of laughter.

                                  Our children played amicably with the C-G’s three, but young George was
                                  unusually quiet and surprised me by bringing me his unopened tin of chocolates to keep
                                  for him. Normally he is a glutton for sweets. I might have guessed he was sickening for
                                  something. That night he vomited and had diarrhoea and has had an upset tummy and a
                                  slight temperature ever since.

                                  Janey is also ill. She says she has malaria and has taken to her bed. I am dosing
                                  her with quinine and hope she will soon be better as I badly need her help. Not only is
                                  young George off his food and peevish but Kate has a cold and Ann sore eyes and
                                  they all want love and attention. To complicate things it has been raining heavily and I
                                  must entertain the children indoors.

                                  Eleanor.

                                  Itewe, Chunya 19th January 1937

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  So sorry I have not written before but we have been in the wars and I have had neither
                                  the time nor the heart to write. However the worst is now over. Young George and
                                  Janey are both recovering from Typhoid Fever. The doctor had Janey moved to the
                                  native hospital at Chunya but I nursed young George here in the camp.

                                  As I told you young George’s tummy trouble started on Christmas day. At first I
                                  thought it was only a protracted bilious attack due to eating too much unaccustomed rich
                                  food and treated him accordingly but when his temperature persisted I thought that the
                                  trouble might be malaria and kept him in bed and increased the daily dose of quinine.
                                  He ate less and less as the days passed and on New Years Day he seemed very
                                  weak and his stomach tender to the touch.

                                  George fetched the doctor who examined small George and said he had a very
                                  large liver due no doubt to malaria. He gave the child injections of emertine and quinine
                                  and told me to give young George frequent and copious drinks of water and bi-carb of
                                  soda. This was more easily said than done. Young George refused to drink this mixture
                                  and vomited up the lime juice and water the doctor had suggested as an alternative.
                                  The doctor called every day and gave George further injections and advised me
                                  to give him frequent sips of water from a spoon. After three days the child was very
                                  weak and weepy but Dr Spiers still thought he had malaria. During those anxious days I
                                  also worried about Janey who appeared to be getting worse rather that better and on
                                  January the 3rd I asked the doctor to look at her. The next thing I knew, the doctor had
                                  put Janey in his car and driven her off to hospital. When he called next morning he
                                  looked very grave and said he wished to talk to my husband. I said that George was out
                                  on the claim but if what he wished to say concerned young George’s condition he might
                                  just as well tell me.

                                  With a good deal of reluctance Dr Spiers then told me that Janey showed all the
                                  symptoms of Typhoid Fever and that he was very much afraid that young George had
                                  contracted it from her. He added that George should be taken to the Mbeya Hospital
                                  where he could have the professional nursing so necessary in typhoid cases. I said “Oh
                                  no,I’d never allow that. The child had never been away from his family before and it
                                  would frighten him to death to be sick and alone amongst strangers.” Also I was sure that
                                  the fifty mile drive over the mountains in his weak condition would harm him more than
                                  my amateur nursing would. The doctor returned to the camp that afternoon to urge
                                  George to send our son to hospital but George staunchly supported my argument that
                                  young George would stand a much better chance of recovery if we nursed him at home.
                                  I must say Dr Spiers took our refusal very well and gave young George every attention
                                  coming twice a day to see him.

                                  For some days the child was very ill. He could not keep down any food or liquid
                                  in any quantity so all day long, and when he woke at night, I gave him a few drops of
                                  water at a time from a teaspoon. His only nourishment came from sucking Macintosh’s
                                  toffees. Young George sweated copiously especially at night when it was difficult to
                                  change his clothes and sponge him in the draughty room with the rain teeming down
                                  outside. I think I told you that the bedroom is a sort of shed with only openings in the wall
                                  for windows and doors, and with one wall built only a couple of feet high leaving a six
                                  foot gap for air and light. The roof leaked and the damp air blew in but somehow young
                                  George pulled through.

                                  Only when he was really on the mend did the doctor tell us that whilst he had
                                  been attending George, he had also been called in to attend to another little boy of the same age who also had typhoid. He had been called in too late and the other little boy,
                                  an only child, had died. Young George, thank God, is convalescent now, though still on a
                                  milk diet. He is cheerful enough when he has company but very peevish when left
                                  alone. Poor little lad, he is all hair, eyes, and teeth, or as Ann says” Georgie is all ribs ribs
                                  now-a-days Mummy.” He shares my room, Ann and Kate are together in the little room.
                                  Anyway the doctor says he should be up and around in about a week or ten days time.
                                  We were all inoculated against typhoid on the day the doctor made the diagnosis
                                  so it is unlikely that any of us will develop it. Dr Spiers was most impressed by Ann’s
                                  unconcern when she was inoculated. She looks gentle and timid but has always been
                                  very brave. Funny thing when young George was very ill he used to wail if I left the
                                  room, but now that he is convalescent he greatly prefers his dad’s company. So now I
                                  have been able to take the girls for walks in the late afternoons whilst big George
                                  entertains small George. This he does with the minimum of effort, either he gets out
                                  cartons of ammunition with which young George builds endless forts, or else he just sits
                                  beside the bed and cleans one of his guns whilst small George watches with absorbed
                                  attention.

                                  The Doctor tells us that Janey is also now convalescent. He says that exhusband
                                  Abel has been most attentive and appeared daily at the hospital with a tray of
                                  food that made his, the doctor’s, mouth water. All I dare say, pinched from Mrs
                                  Cresswell-George.

                                  I’ll write again soon. Lots of love to all,
                                  Eleanor.

                                  Chunya 29th January 1937

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  Georgie is up and about but still tires very easily. At first his legs were so weak
                                  that George used to carry him around on his shoulders. The doctor says that what the
                                  child really needs is a long holiday out of the Tropics so that Mrs Thomas’ offer, to pay all
                                  our fares to Cape Town as well as lending us her seaside cottage for a month, came as
                                  a Godsend. Luckily my passport is in order. When George was in Mbeya he booked
                                  seats for the children and me on the first available plane. We will fly to Broken Hill and go
                                  on to Cape Town from there by train.

                                  Ann and George are wildly thrilled at the idea of flying but I am not. I remember
                                  only too well how airsick I was on the old Hannibal when I flew home with the baby Ann.
                                  I am longing to see you all and it will be heaven to give the children their first seaside
                                  holiday.

                                  I mean to return with Kate after three months but, if you will have him, I shall leave
                                  George behind with you for a year. You said you would all be delighted to have Ann so
                                  I do hope you will also be happy to have young George. Together they are no trouble
                                  at all. They amuse themselves and are very independent and loveable.
                                  George and I have discussed the matter taking into consideration the letters from
                                  you and George’s Mother on the subject. If you keep Ann and George for a year, my
                                  mother-in-law will go to Cape Town next year and fetch them. They will live in England
                                  with her until they are fit enough to return to the Tropics. After the children and I have left
                                  on this holiday, George will be able to move around and look for a job that will pay
                                  sufficiently to enable us to go to England in a few years time to fetch our children home.
                                  We both feel very sad at the prospect of this parting but the children’s health
                                  comes before any other consideration. I hope Kate will stand up better to the Tropics.
                                  She is plump and rosy and could not look more bonny if she lived in a temperate
                                  climate.

                                  We should be with you in three weeks time!

                                  Very much love,
                                  Eleanor.

                                  Broken Hill, N Rhodesia 11th February 1937

                                  Dearest Family,

                                  Well here we are safe and sound at the Great Northern Hotel, Broken Hill, all
                                  ready to board the South bound train tonight.

                                  We were still on the diggings on Ann’s birthday, February 8th, when George had
                                  a letter from Mbeya to say that our seats were booked on the plane leaving Mbeya on
                                  the 10th! What a rush we had packing up. Ann was in bed with malaria so we just
                                  bundled her up in blankets and set out in John Molteno’s car for the farm. We arrived that
                                  night and spent the next day on the farm sorting things out. Ann and George wanted to
                                  take so many of their treasures and it was difficult for them to make a small selection. In
                                  the end young George’s most treasured possession, his sturdy little boots, were left
                                  behind.

                                  Before leaving home on the morning of the tenth I took some snaps of Ann and
                                  young George in the garden and one of them with their father. He looked so sad. After
                                  putting us on the plane, George planned to go to the fishing camp for a day or two
                                  before returning to the empty house on the farm.

                                  John Molteno returned from the Cape by plane just before we took off, so he
                                  will take over the running of his claims once more. I told John that I dreaded the plane trip
                                  on account of air sickness so he gave me two pills which I took then and there. Oh dear!
                                  How I wished later that I had not done so. We had an extremely bumpy trip and
                                  everyone on the plane was sick except for small George who loved every moment.
                                  Poor Ann had a dreadful time but coped very well and never complained. I did not
                                  actually puke until shortly before we landed at Broken Hill but felt dreadfully ill all the way.
                                  Kate remained rosy and cheerful almost to the end. She sat on my lap throughout the
                                  trip because, being under age, she travelled as baggage and was not entitled to a seat.
                                  Shortly before we reached Broken Hill a smartly dressed youngish man came up
                                  to me and said, “You look so poorly, please let me take the baby, I have children of my
                                  own and know how to handle them.” Kate made no protest and off they went to the
                                  back of the plane whilst I tried to relax and concentrate on not getting sick. However,
                                  within five minutes the man was back. Kate had been thoroughly sick all over his collar
                                  and jacket.

                                  I took Kate back on my lap and then was violently sick myself, so much so that
                                  when we touched down at Broken Hill I was unable to speak to the Immigration Officer.
                                  He was so kind. He sat beside me until I got my diaphragm under control and then
                                  drove me up to the hotel in his own car.

                                  We soon recovered of course and ate a hearty dinner. This morning after
                                  breakfast I sallied out to look for a Bank where I could exchange some money into
                                  Rhodesian and South African currency and for the Post Office so that I could telegraph
                                  to George and to you. What a picnic that trip was! It was a terribly hot day and there was
                                  no shade. By the time we had done our chores, the children were hot, and cross, and
                                  tired and so indeed was I. As I had no push chair for Kate I had to carry her and she is
                                  pretty heavy for eighteen months. George, who is still not strong, clung to my free arm
                                  whilst Ann complained bitterly that no one was helping her.

                                  Eventually Ann simply sat down on the pavement and declared that she could
                                  not go another step, whereupon George of course decided that he also had reached his
                                  limit and sat down too. Neither pleading no threats would move them so I had to resort
                                  to bribery and had to promise that when we reached the hotel they could have cool
                                  drinks and ice-cream. This promise got the children moving once more but I am determined that nothing will induce me to stir again until the taxi arrives to take us to the
                                  station.

                                  This letter will go by air and will reach you before we do. How I am longing for
                                  journeys end.

                                  With love to you all,
                                  Eleanor.

                                  Leaving home 10th February 1937,  George Gilman Rushby with Ann and Georgie (Mike) Rushby:

                                  George Rushby Ann and Georgie

                                  NOTE
                                  We had a very warm welcome to the family home at Plumstead Cape Town.
                                  After ten days with my family we moved to Hout Bay where Mrs Thomas lent us her
                                  delightful seaside cottage. She also provided us with two excellent maids so I had
                                  nothing to do but rest and play on the beach with the children.

                                  After a month at the sea George had fully recovered his health though not his
                                  former gay spirits. After another six months with my parents I set off for home with Kate,
                                  leaving Ann and George in my parent’s home under the care of my elder sister,
                                  Marjorie.

                                  One or two incidents during that visit remain clearly in my memory. Our children
                                  had never met elderly people and were astonished at the manifestations of age. One
                                  morning an elderly lady came around to collect church dues. She was thin and stooped
                                  and Ann surveyed her with awe. She turned to me with a puzzled expression and
                                  asked in her clear voice, “Mummy, why has that old lady got a moustache – oh and a
                                  beard?’ The old lady in question was very annoyed indeed and said, “What a rude little
                                  girl.” Ann could not understand this, she said, “But Mummy, I only said she had a
                                  moustache and a beard and she has.” So I explained as best I could that when people
                                  have defects of this kind they are hurt if anyone mentions them.

                                  A few days later a strange young woman came to tea. I had been told that she
                                  had a most disfiguring birthmark on her cheek and warned Ann that she must not
                                  comment on it. Alas! with the kindest intentions Ann once again caused me acute
                                  embarrassment. The young woman was hardly seated when Ann went up to her and
                                  gently patted the disfiguring mark saying sweetly, “Oh, I do like this horrible mark on your
                                  face.”

                                  I remember also the afternoon when Kate and George were christened. My
                                  mother had given George a white silk shirt for the occasion and he wore it with intense
                                  pride. Kate was baptised first without incident except that she was lost in admiration of a
                                  gold bracelet given her that day by her Godmother and exclaimed happily, “My
                                  bangle, look my bangle,” throughout the ceremony. When George’s turn came the
                                  clergyman held his head over the font and poured water on George’s forehead. Some
                                  splashed on his shirt and George protested angrily, “Mum, he has wet my shirt!” over
                                  and over again whilst I led him hurriedly outside.

                                  My last memory of all is at the railway station. The time had come for Kate and
                                  me to get into our compartment. My sisters stood on the platform with Ann and George.
                                  Ann was resigned to our going, George was not so, at the last moment Sylvia, my
                                  younger sister, took him off to see the engine. The whistle blew and I said good-bye to
                                  my gallant little Ann. “Mummy”, she said urgently to me, “Don’t forget to wave to
                                  George.”

                                  And so I waved good-bye to my children, never dreaming that a war would
                                  intervene and it would be eight long years before I saw them again.

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