Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales
Reminiscences of David Scott Mitchell by his grand-niece, Ella Busby (Heath)
MLMSS 9463
Notes on David Scott Mitchell – my Great Uncle.
As a child my sister & I used to go with my mother Mrs. Busby to visit Uncle David. My mother used to spend the afternoon over Uncle David's Book-plates of which he had a large collection to which he was constantly adding. The book-plates had to be very gently soaked off the old books with damp blotting paper, & then laid to dry, in dry blotting paper. He was a dear old man with a snow white beard, & blue eyes & always used to kiss us. An adventure for me; my first beard!! We were always entertained by being shown a small lizard embedded in a large block of amber, also a fly, in a smaller block.
After that, the old man would return to some occupation at his desk which involved the use of a small tortoise shell magnifying glass with 6 prisms, my mother would become engrossed with the gentle rubbing of book-plates, & we would be free to creep away to 'Old Sarah' the old Housekeeper who had been with my Great Uncle for 30 years –
On more than one occasion some errand was necessary to the Library (once the Ball-room) & it was a bewildering place to a young book-lover. High, high ceilings & every wall lined with books as high as man could reach (much higher than I could reach as I was a very small child for my age) & the space above lined with pictures & more, & more & more pictures leaning one on top of the other against the book-shelves. In the middle of the room, more book shelves & revolving book cases. Ordinarily, the afternoon was spent with Sarah, with old Isabella in attendance admiring the charms of 'Cocky Mitchell' a large white Cocky with a Sulphur Crest, & Sarah's pretty
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little back-yard garden, all ferns and fuchsias and little creeping
plants. My Aunt Mrs. Massy, who also used to struggle with the
book-plates used to laugh & tease Old Sarah. She had some funny
words and was very proud of her 'garrivated' (variagated) plants, &
the 'harpy' little birds (happy) who used to come & drink &
chirp at her tub from which she watered her plants. Sometimes she would
let us look in the 'store-room' where was kept quantities of old
chinese silver, glass etc from his old days of entertaining. I think
that Uncle David must have had all the household goods from Cumberland
Place.
Later these things were all divided amongst my Grandmothers' 9
children. Part of my mothers' share was a beautiful old dress of Kincob
silk on satin, old gold in colour with little morone pine apples – (no
I am wrong she had that from her mother Mrs. Merewether. I remember she
told me there used to be flat slippers of the same material but she
wore them out when she was young). I wore the dress once at a 'Pioneers
Ball' – I have it still.
Sarah used to give us sponge cakes, & muffins, for tea, & when
we were going always had coloured balls with shot inside ( to rattle)
or large silk handkerchiefs or jars of chow-chow for us. (I think
Christmas presents from their Chinaman). One of the special treasures
was an exquisite fan carved in ivory in little bars fine as hairs &
with tiny figures & a series of monograms – It was Mrs Scotts &
had a medallion
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with the initials of all her children except Patrick, as when she left
China he was not born -[indecipherable] medallion has only the S
When Uncle David died I was fourteen and my Grandmother, following the fashion of an older time plunged us all into 'blacks'. Shoes, stockings, coat & skirt, black silk blouse & pleated silk hats & gloves. For some reason, we did not mind, it made us feel important.
When the house was closed up & old Sarah was pensioned, she gave me Cocky Mitchell, because I had always liked him.
He was a frightfully naughty old thing & everyone was afraid of him except me & Margaret, mother's house parlour maid. She came from an orphanage in Lancashire & I was very, very fond of her. She used to say 'Oh! Miss Hella, 'ark to 'im. Ow 'e do shriek'
He was very dictatorial & used to say 'Cocky Mitchell wants a drink', & Margaret used to hasten to give him tea from the spout of the kitchen tea-pot. The only way he would drink.
Amongst Uncle David's possessions which I saw later was a collection of very beautiful snuff boxes in silver, & one lovely gold one. I was told at the time it was a gift from Royalty to a Frederick grandmother – probably she who was maid of Honour to the Queen (Adelaide I think) when she came from Hanover. The Fredericks were a very large & powerful family in those days in Hanover.
Those snuff boxes disappeared no-one knows where.
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There were also some good and interesting miniatures which Mr. Dowling claimed as part of the bequest.
In the end, the Merewether Family received back a portion of the
Family ones & the portrait of James Mitchell - Another visitor whom
I have occasionally seen with Uncle David, was Cousin Rose Scott, well
known for Votes for Women campaign & also for her efforts toward
the improvement in conditions for prisoners in gaols. She was also a
constant visitor to my grandmother at Castlefield in Edgecliff Rd.
& used occasionally to give childrens' parties at her little house
in Jersey Road. I remember knowing Reggie & John Hamilton there.
Sons of a ne'er do well Terek [Terrick?] Hamilton who married one of
the Scotts.
[Indecipherable] Wallace lived with Cousin Rose & was her nephew.
He went on the stage. He has in his possession a number of Scott
'relics' including beautiful Chinese shawls & a miniature of the
Duke of Wellington, presented by him to one of the Family. I believe
Patrick Scott was received by him into his Regiment - Robert, &
Helenus owned the original grant Glendon Dalkeith, bought from them by
William Busby – my Father lived there & in fact built the house as
a batchelor establishment, & took my mother there when they were
1st married.
Her first child, a boy, was born there a miscarriage & born dead.
Her 3 living children (not Augusta Dora. She was born at Fairlight in
Double Bay -[added later])being born at Castlefield, Bondi the home my
grandfather Edward Christopher Merewether built when he left the Ridges
at Newcastle. The Ridge was the house he built for his wife, it was not
quite finished when they went to live there.
James Mitchell had a third child a daughter whose marriage received her parents uttermost disapproval. The story known to the Family was that old Dr. Mitchell on coming downstairs to breakfast one morning found one of the footmen kissing his daughter. 'What does this mean Sir, how dare you
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Kiss my daughter? 'Sir! I am kissing my wife'!.
The husband's name was Quigley. I believe that he never saw her again.
The break with all the family was complete though I believe my
Grandmother did see her again long after. She met a tragic end when her
home was burnt & for [indecipherable] or his former reason she was
never mentioned all recollection of her was too painful to my
grandmother. She was not, I believe, mentioned in my Great
Grandfather's will, but when that will was upset on the grounds of
'undue influence by a certain person' she received a share in
proportion with David Scott or Augusta Maria Mitchell (Merewether). She
had a numerous family, & I believe there are a number of
descendants.
Edward Christopher Merewether's Father, Henry Merewether lived at
'Castlefield', Calne, Wiltshire. He had a numerous family at least 2 of
whom were in the colony and in India. Edward Christopher was his
youngest son & was educated at Charterhouse & (& perhaps
for a time Westminster) & St. Johns College, Oxford, as he was
intended for the Church.
His mother died, to whom he was deeply devoted & his father
married again. This was a grief to him to see another in his mother's
place & he decided to give up the Church, and with the sum of £1000
to come to Australia to seek his fortune. He was private secretary to
Sir George Gipps & afterwards to Sir Charles Fitzroy.
It was at a childrens' ball at the new Govment House that he first met
'little Miss Mitchell'. He danced with her as she was one of the few
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children 'who knew the steps'. This was told me by Miss Edith Dease
whose Grandfather Colonel Barney (BARNEY) was present. They married
when she was 25, and he was over 40. He was General Superintendent of
the A.A. Company & an early President of the Australian Club. They
entertained a good deal & many people came from England with
letters to him naturally. When his Family were growing up, he built
'Dennarque' at Mt Wilson, (now known as Bell) & they used to
migrate there every summer. The Gregsons also had a house there and
numerous batches of Cox's. Old Mr Wynne was also living there. He had
some quaint ideas. Over his cow 'stables' he had painted, 'treat a cow
as you would a lady'!
The soil at Mt. Wilson was 'too good' & many soft fruits grew by
leaps and bounds but did not pick much. Chestnuts and walnuts, deodars
& other trees were most successful & the former fruited well.
Snakes abounded & there is a story of my father Thomas Busby who
was at that time 'courting' my mother.
A snake had been seen several times going down near the roots of a
deodar which grew near the house. Saucers of milk were put out to woo
it, hoping that some day someone could get a shot at it. One day as
'the boys' (my uncles) came by they saw it gliding towards its hole. My
Father was nearest, & they shouted to him to grab it by the tail.
Which he did. But the snake, a black one, instead of going down its
hole twisted back round a root so that its head was within a few inches
of my Fathers' head
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He shouted, & my Uncles were over-powered with & mirth. The
snake pulled & he pushed, & the odds were even until finally
some-one hit it on the head & & killed it. My uncles used to
tell the story, but my Father never thought it funny.
My Father Thomas Woore Frederick Busby was born in England at - .His Father William Busby came to Australia in 1824 (I think)
aged 10 years – William Busby's Father, John Busby was an Engineer,
& came from Almwick. (?). William received some education at the
Edinburgh Gammar School, & tutoring from his brother George when
the latter was Medical officer at Norfolk Island. William Busby was
born in Ireland, 'where the Mountains of Mourne go down to the sea.'
William Busby & his wife Annie Woore returned from England (& Ireland) & lived at Edgecliff House. My Father used to say he had been whipped in every room of that house. On one occasion he had been whipped & shut in the bathroom 'until he was good'. He occupied the time in taking every scrap of linen (enough for a family of 11,) off the shelves & putting it in the bath & turning the tap on.
For some years while he was quite young 5 years old, he lived at Pomeroy near Goulburn with his grandfather Thomas Woore. Thomas Woore used to tell the little boy that some day Pomeroy would be his, but his mother would not permit it to be left to him. His Father William Busby used to say 'never mind Tom, its poor country, we will do better than that for you.' My Father always loved Pomeroy though, & regretted it,
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which was strange, as he stayed there in very bad times, & in
remembrance, seemed to have lived mostly on bread [indecipherable],
& potatoes, as sheep were too precious to kill. When my Father was
11 he was sent to England in a sailing ship in the captains 'care'.
I do not know whether his passionate desire to go to sea was formed then, or perhaps it was in his blood, but his mother would not hear of it. He was sent to Sherborne, & boarded in Mr. Collard's house. His recollections of school life seemed entirely happy. I do not know where he spent his holidays, except that once he joined his Family in Italy. The thing he remembered most about that trip, was returning by train in mid-winter with his Cousin Alexander Busby, without foot-warmers or rugs. They sat opposite each other with their feet tucked into each others coats. When he was 16 he formed an attachment to a damsel in the vicinity, & on the ground of his extreme youth & the general unsuitability it was thought better for him to return to Australia, which he did, & was sent to Newcastle where he did some sort of office work I think, under Mr. Jesse Gregson, who was a connection through the Moores (see family tree if you are interested.) It was then that he first knew the Merewethers.
By the time he was twenty-one his Family were living at Redleaf in Double Bay, so Thomas was put to work as a clerk in the Bank of Australasia (I think) 'to get experience'. He used to gallop (on foot) from Redleaf, up Break-neck steps, into town each morning. It was at this time he formed a warm friendship with Mr. Justin Brenan who was also a clerk in the Bank, & Mr. Charlie King. With the latter he used to go sailing in his skiff the Boronia –
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Mr. Charlie King was the Father of my great friend Bessie King.
After this business experience Thomas was sent up to Queensland to get
practical experience as a 'pastoralist'. At Bluff Downs & Emmett
Downs (I think. Those were the days of 'droving', & he spent many a
night under the stars, (on the wagon, if it rained,) with his saddle
for a pillow, & a blackfellow Jacky, for company. They lived on
Salt beef & damper, & tea, naturally without milk, It was not
un-heard of for them to get 'Barcoo rot,'. Scurvy I suppose.
It was a fine life for a young man & was always a happy time in his recollections. When he was about 25, he went to Dalkeith formerly part of Glendon, a grant to the Scott Bros: Robert & Helenus. His father William Busby first leased, & then bought the property. Thomas went there as manager, & built the present house as a batchelor establishment. When he was 28 he married my mother Augusta Eliza Mitchell Busby (Merewether). They lived there for 3 years, with Alexander Busby & Ella his wife as neighbours at Cassilis.
When Thomas' father died, Dalkeith was sold, & my parents lived for 3 years in Sydney, at Fairlie in Double Bay.
Then Thomas bought Yarraman at the foot of the Liverpool ranges. The
homestead 42 miles across the black soil plains, from the nearest
Township; Quirindi: - about 30,000 acres.
There I spent my childhood, a time of perfect security, & happiness, where I was quite un-deservedly, though well loved. However even in the most
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perfect Eden, a snake may come, & disaster is only outside the
gates – The journey from Sydney to Yarraman in those days was no mean
feat.
My mother packed for herself & 3 young children & we drove in the carriages from Castlefield at Bondi to the Railway station, where an old fashioned carriage to seat 6 was reserved. (the train left at night.) We were all settled down to sleep, I with my face 'forward' otherwise I was sick; at 1.30 (I think) in the morning we were removed from the train at Quirindi & carried to the little hotel, very primitive, & put to bed. I do not think at that time the hotel had an 'upstairs'.
Next day we set forth, my Father driving a four-in-hand team, my mother beside him holding the youngest (me) & my Sister & Brother behind with the Governess. The seats faced each other. We use to pass two little Inns or 'pubs' in the way. The Wait-awhile, & the 'Who'd 'a Thought it', that was all, until we reached Blackville, 7 miles from home.
I do not remember that there was anything there but a small general store, kept by one Alexander Pike. My sister always thought it was 'Excellent Pike' which gave my Father & mother a good deal of pleasure; a very small hall, a church with a tin roof & one or two very tatterdemalion cottages. After we left Blackville, hope began to rise again. The drive was very, very, long, & towards the end much encouragement was needed as 'who will be the
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first to see the wool-shed'. Then we came to Black Creek with a very
steep crossing & a gate on the farther side. We always seemed to go
down very fast with the break hand in, a tricky business with 4 horses.
Then through the gate, & 'who will be the first to see the House'?
Then past the big Currajong with the letter-box in it, into which no
letters were ever put, & the magpies nest. Then another gate, &
we were in the horse paddocks, & then we were at the stables, &
Home. Through the white gate, down the stable drive, and were any
almonds left in the 3 tall trees, yes! 5 high up.
Anything out in our gardens? like little dogs graves planted round with bulbs, no. nothing. Any apples left – in the trees – then through the arch with the big Devoniensis rose, along the path past the honeysuckle, & white multiflora rose, & the Mareshal vine , growing up the verandah posts, up the steps, under the wisteria & across the verandah – we're Home
Ah! but just getting there was nothing. Next morning there is a whole world to re-conquer & make ours again. Our very own chinaman, the gardener Loo-yen, to visit, Every plant, tree & shrub, the pony Frisky. The fox terrier Barney & in early days, the turkeys & good Mrs Biddy. Mothers' favourite hen who always reared the chickens & the two Kookaburras who used to ride round
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the garden on mothers' wrists, Jacky & Sambo.
Of course soon lessons began, I always rather liked them, except in the winter. We worked at a large table on the verandah, & in the spring were in a bower of wisteria & roses & in the summer [indecipherable] sparrows built nests in the roses which were full of flower. All white & yellow – Marechal [indecipherable] white multiflores, cloth of gold, & yellow banksias. But in the winter my sufferings were considerable. Much of the time there was deep snow on Black Jack (the biggish mountain) & heavy hard frosts, & blew a wind like a skinning knife. We were supposed to be hardy, & there were never any fires during the day. Breakfast at 7. In fact one whole winter we had breakfast at 6. My Father put his clocks on & we were so isolated that no-one found out. While we were still quite young, I about 6 I think, my Brother 7 or 8, & sister 10, or so we had a superlative excitement. We knew that something was going on, as voices were lowered when we were about, guns were cleaned & loaded, & presently my mother sat embroidering in the verandah with a large loaded mauser pistol beside her. That day my Brother was out riding on the run with my Father, & one of the men galloped up shouting 'they're here! on the run, their camp fires have been seen! and then it all came out! Bushrangers Jimmy & Joe Governor, two 'murderous half castes', from over the ranges. The men would not go out on the run without guns, so even my Brothers rifle was requisitioned. The maids were frightened, my brother was nervous though perfectly brave. But we were enthralled. We formed ourselves into a fighting unit with spears, & my sister printed several
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large notices 'Beware of the Fighting Three' & stuck them up in
bushes in the garden. This was all thrilling in the day-time, but as
far as I was concerned, far less agreeable at night. Then one night
when we was all at dinner, there was rather a long pause between
courses, & [indecipherable] the maid put a face as white as paper
in at the dining room door & half whispered, 'Mr. Busby, sir,
they're here'! My Father leapt from his chair & dashed into his
little office for his revolver. I think we all just sat, & it
seemed a long time but there were no shots. Then my Father came back
very angry, & it was not the Governors at all but a black tracker.
The police had sent him for 'tucker', rations of meat, flour, tea,
& jam. He could not speak English, & my father nearly shot him.
He threw open the back door of the kitchen, he told us, & Jammed
the revolver in his ribs. Fortunately the man just stood and grinned,
& after a while the police came.
It was very foolish of them to send him alone. A woman shot one of the Governors in the end, & I think the police took the other .
My Father used to tell us stories his Father told him of old days at Cassilis. His Father William Busby worked the place with assigned servants, & his man-servant was a man who had been transported for murder. One day this man ran away, taking another man with him. Of course William Busby went after them to recapture them. (with others of course.) After a day they found their camp fire, & the man-servants
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companion lying dead in it – the murderer had killed again. I don't remember if he was hanged.
It is the fashion now to white wash the convicts & pretend that they were sent out for trifling offences but this is not true. A very very few were, but the greater part were wicked & brutal men. The treatment they received was very harsh, but the situation of those in control of them was pretty desperate, & they were also according to Mackaness the Australian historian, a pretty low set – I mean the recruits of the New South Wales Corps. Another story my Father had from his Father William Busby of when he was a young man & helping his Father John Busby to tunnel his bore for the water supply. One of the men ran off for his day. Next day he was taken & brought before John Busby who asked him 'Why do you do this, you know that I must order you to be lashed?' The man said 'Aye, I know, but I can earn a pound cutting rushes on the beach & its worth it'. (Rushcutters Bay. The rushes were used for candle wicks, etc.) My Father remembered many of the names of the assigned servants who had passed through his Father's Grandfathers' hands.
He told me that once he came upon the son of one of them, well established, of a good position & well-mannered. He said to my Father 'Times have changed Mr. Busby', & my Father said 'yes' – I'm glad to see it. Thomas (my Father) very rarely mentioned names. Like most of the old free Pioneers, he had a long memory but a still tongue, & would never willingly give pain to the perfectly well-conducted descendants of 'old lags'. Only very occasionally some piece of purse-proud
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snobbishness, on too pushing 'tuft-hunting' would make him remember
old times & that one cannot expect anything of a pig but a grunt.
Another story was of a lady of very simple people – when her husband
was knighted her family are reported to have visited all their
acquaintance saying 'Fancy our Bet a Lady'. Of another less well liked,
they said 'The King has made her a Lady, though God couldn't!
Still as old Agnes Busby of Bathurst used to say to my mother 'Its better forgotten dear' I suppose it is, but in two or three hundred years, those old tales would have made fascinating reading. Fortunately a number of these will be preserved in the Mitchell Library though some were burnt, & others are 'mutilated'. The times have changed so much & old bitter feelings have softened. One cannot imagine in these days some-one painting a broad arrow in Mr. Stewart Dawson's gatepost every night, as was done to a certain person long ago.
Though it has nothing to do with this subject I will set down what I know of the old pictures Dora Busby has. they was sent out to [indecipherable] Woore at Pomeroy. A quantity of pictures, & a good deal of old silver. I have a loving cup & a pair of silver (Sheffield) candlesticks.
The cup is Irish silver & marked with a harp. Keith Donkin has a small silver salver, also marked with a harp, & both cup & salver with a crest of a boars head in a platter, over a shield with three stars [Drawing of shield][indecipherable] – The pictures were never unpacked at Pomeroy, & they were stored in a cellar which was damp &
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When they were unpacked at Redleaf the older ones were irremediably
ruined. My mother who saw them said it was a pity as they were quite
charming
My grandmother left, or gave, the greater part of the silver to my Uncle William Barker Busby.
My Grandmother lived at Redleaf for a short time after my
grandfather died. When the house was closed up my Father & Mother
(who was helping him) tried to read & sort about 12 cases of old
letters etc: but finally gave it up & after tearing off the old
stamps, burnt them all. It was sad as they would now be enchantingly
interesting both for the historical value, & for the entertaining
social snippets – William Busby came to Australia at the age of 10
& when about 13 (I think) was at Norfolk Island with his brother
George who was medical officer there. He was afterwards in Sydney with
his mother Sarah Busby (nee Kennedy) I think at their farm in
Woolloomalloo!! ( [indecipherable] our letters in the care of the
Mitchell Library written to his brother Alexander, (or George.) He was
in later life many years in the Legislative Assembly & was Vice
President of the Australian Club. I think at the same time that my
other grandfather Edward Merewether, was President. [No]
He used to take my Father to the club when he was a little boy &
leave him in the care of the Porter !! My Father was also Vice
President of the Australian Club, & used to take Deryck (my son
Thomas Frederick William Merewether Heath) there with him to have his
hair cut!! No-one objected because it gave the old man so much
pleasure, & they knew that his only son had been killed in France
in the First World War.
Thomas always took everything that was said to him very seriously. One day when I was visiting them at B[indecipherable] I was in a frivolous mood,
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& told them that the child would be a girl, & would have red
hair, & black eyes, & I was going to call her Chloe. Thomas
said nothing, but afterwards he went to my mother & asked her 'How
does she know'? Events proved that I did not know, as the baby was a
boy. A beautiful baby with perfect little features & a well shaped
head, as I believe most Caesarian babies have. I was very very ill,
with double pneumonia & a lot of other things, so that I only saw
him twice in the next 10 weeks. There was another joke against my
Father. We used to play golf in those days, & Bill wore 'plus
fours'. When Thomas saw him in them, he was gardening. He looked at
them thoughtfully & said, 'I think I'd like some of those
two-by-fours'.
My mother was funny too, & though patience & forbearance itself to us, was occasionally ruffled as when some-one was coming to lunch one of us used a clean guest-towel, & she said, 'If you saw a clean towel, you might have known it wasn't meant for the Family'!! Another time one of us took a favourite pair of gloves, she was quite annoyed & said 'really you are too bad! you'd take the boots off my back'. We must have been very trying, as when she was feeling 'peckety' we used to say 'listen, listen, Busby is going to be funny'.
We used to give Janet Merewether a lively time, as she was afflicted with the habit of blushing, & it was an accepted dinner table sport, to say 'All look at Janet,' at which she immediately became scarlet. We were
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as a Family incurably addicted to 'games' round card games, such as
'old Maid', casino, newmarket, Gotcha, etc. & in the day-time
'little cricket' played on the lawn at Castlefield on Sundays – When we
were very young we played 'letters', from an old [indecipherable] sch.
No-one liked my 'words', & I remember me defeating everyone, Uncles
& Aunts & all the friends with 'blue-bottle-fly'!! When we were
older mine were charades, & a game played by two people. One sat
& the other knelt in front & said quack quack & pretended
to be a duck picking up grain. The feeding one had to bob his own head
up & down, while the sitting player tried to clap his knees
together & grip him. It was not very 'lady-like', but very good fun.
Another rather inelegant game we played with Laurence Street one night. The sport was to sit on a bottle with ones feet tied together & try to light one candle from another. Laurence would not listen to the rules, & tried to sit on the end of the bottle, amidst convulsions of mirth – Dancing in the evening was a very favourite pastime after we wee grown-up & singing, while Dora played the piano. How she learned to play so well, I do not know a she generally had Ally Sloper (which we were not allowed to read) on a book propped in front on the music stand. I am afraid we were not socially very efficient, as we greatly preferred, sailing rowing, playing tennis, or golf, or any game, to calls & graceful conversation. I remember a frightful occasion when my mother said we my brother & I were to call upon someone, who had invited us to a dance. We spent several days imagining all the impossible things that would surely happen to us, finishing with his getting a crumb in the throat, & being only able to gasp 'a glass of wasser', The call was on
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Mrs. Jenkins, & none of the things happened. She was out.
When I was about 8 my Brother (always called Ferd, after his school days) about 9 we were allowed to go shooting together as long as I walked strictly behind him. If we shot any parrots, we were allowed to have them cooked, but had to pluck & clean them ourselves, which damped our enthusiasm. One year we had 3 pet lambs (reared at the house because their mother had died'. Billy, Bess & Bell. At shearing time mother had to take us all down to the wool shed, [indecipherable] by 3 children & 3 lambs & my pet galah, riding on the back of one of the lambs.
We had spiced buns for tea, made by the shearers cook. Delicious. Some of his efforts were not so pleasing, particularly his 'bluemange' which really was blue; made [without?] milk
[Transcribed by Robin Mathews for the State Library of New South Wales]