29 September 1932

Can You Straighten This Out?

— Years ago a man we can call Hopkins married a Mrs. Hamilton, who bore him a son. Later on the couple became divorced, and in a year or so Hopkins married his divorced wife's daughter by a former husband. A son was the fruit of this union also. Some time after her divorce from Hopkins, and the latter's marriage to Miss Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton became so far reconciled to her former husband and then son-in-law, that she took her son Roy to reside under the same roof with him. The new wife took on the duties of stepmother in addition to her formerly sisterly care of the older boy, and in due time, after the birth of her own son Reggie, sent the half-brothers, who were also uncle and nephew by virtue of their mother's former relationship to Hopkins, out to play together. Hopkins, it will be observed, was brother-in-law to his own son, because the mother of the youth was his mother-in-law. Miss Hamilton, as step-daughter to Hopkins, was sister to her mother's son, of whom she was now mother, and also aunt, because he was her brother-in-law's son. Hopkins was Roy's brother-in-law, as well as his father, because Hopkins married Roy's half-sister. Reggie and his mother were nephew and aunt, by virtue of the former relationship of Hopkins and Miss Hamilton as brother and sister-in-law. Lastly, Mrs. Hamilton, becoming mother-in-law to her former husband, attained the relationship of sister-in-law to her own daughter. This shows how, given the circumstances, divorce can tangle things up. — 'Judkins,' Victor Harbour.

You Can't Beat The Boys.

— For nearly half a century Labor Day has been usurped in Port Pirie by various Sunday schools for holding their annual picnics. These are mostly held in or by the Flinders Range.

I remember one incident which helped to fill a Congregational Sunday school outing. Permission had been obtained to hold the fixture in Mr. — 's paddock, but the owner, though anxious to meet the wishes of the committee, was uneasy about the fate of a beautiful tree of native peaches with fruit nearly ripe but not quite ready to pick. He decided not to retract his permission, but that he would personally watch the tree all day.

Then a happier thought seized him. He would tie his bull to the tree. This he did. and went about his work feeling confident that the peaches were in safe keeping. At one o'clock the owner of the grounds had lunch. At 1.30 he went outside and glanced in the direction of the bull. To his amazement he saw the animal surrounded by boys. Two were on its back picking the peaches, and the others were standing round waiting to receive them. — Alf J. Parker, Glenunga.

How We Laid The 'Ghost.'

— After we were married we went to live at an old place called 'Pump Hill,' a few miles out of Normanville. We had often been told of a 'ghost' which took the form of two large flaming eyes. It appeared every night about half-past nine or ten. Tue 'ghostly eyes' used to show up suddenly from the hills about 10 or 12 miles away. To anyone watching they seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, and then suddenly disappeared.

According to one legend, there were floating white draperies in the ghost's trail. About half-past nine one evening my husband, my sister, and myself, seated at the window of a darkened room, saw the 'eyes' appear, apparently out of the hills miles away. They seemed to be getting gradually bigger and nearer. It was a bit uncanny, and had I not had my husband on one side and my sister on the other, I should have "hiked it" at a gallop!

As usual, the 'ghost's' eyes disappeared, leaving us all puzzled. We watched several nights, and then my husband decided to look across the hills through a very powerful pair of field-glasses in the day time. After studying the ground a while he noticed that there were a few hundred yards of roadway which, in the daytime, could be plainly seen showing white among the hills.

It was obvious that the coach, coming on to this little piece of road, threw the rays of its big head-lights across the hills in such a manner that, seen from miles away in a form distorted by the atmosphere, they produced the curious effect of the ghostly eyes. We often used to watch it afterwards, and told people who had been frightened by it how we had laid the 'ghost.' — Emily R. Wise, Normanville, S.A.

Bringing Her Up To The Scratch.

— It happened in the early days along the Lower Light. She was a friend of mine. She was courting a farmer's son until they fell out. After that they did not see each other for years. Having thus been 'crossed in love,' she sought solace by going out to service. She got a situation with some people near the Lower Light chapel. It was part of her duty every Saturday to clean out the chapel ready for Sunday's service.

At daylight one morning she rose with the intention of cleaning the church, before the heat of the day became too great. Armed with bucket, soap, brush and broom, she was soon the centre of a mass of domestic activity. Suddenly a shadow fell across the floor, and she looked up into the eyes of the boss's new "hand." It was her sweetheart of years ago. He had dropped in casually to see who was in the church.

'What do you want?' she asked. 'I want you,' he answered. 'What for?' she enquired. 'To get married,' he replied. 'Do you mean it?' 'I do!'

They went back to the 'missus' and told her all about it. The 'missus' took her own Sunday dress down and put it on Ann for a wedding dress, and the young man rode over to Two Wells for the parson. They held the wedding ceremony that morning at 7 o'clock, with the bucket and soapsuds still on the floor. After the ceremony the 'missus' helped Ann to finish the church, and then they went back to breakfast. The pair remained on the farm as a 'married couple for several years.' — E. M. Pahl, Verran.

Snatched From Death.

— The earliest memory of life takes me back to 1913, when I was just over two and a half years old. I consider its unusual vividness to be due to the alarming experience I then had. It was in the prehistoric times when the old 'cowbell' trains used to rumble along Glenelg's main street. My father owned a house on one side of the street, and a workshop on the other.

Many childish wanderings between the one and the other, despite the parental veto, caused me to regard the train as a mere incident. On Sunday morning, while the train was pulled up at the Moseley square terminus, I crossed to the closed workshop, in search of adventure. I found it. In a few minutes' time the train whistle sounded. Then came the train, charging up the street. Being alone on the wrong side of the street was a different matter to being in charge of someone older.

I ran to cross the road, but as I came to the railway line a sudden terror paralysed me. I stood helpless between the two rails. The train was close! I have a clear recollection of the engine seeming to shrink in size, and to draw back further. The next moment it had knocked me down. What happened then I do not remember; but my father must have been attracted by my screams. Fortunately he was on hand at the critical moment.

He tore me almost literally from the jaws of death, incidentally getting his shoulder badly hurt by the 'buffer' of the engine. The train could not possibly have pulled up in time to save me. The driver was as pale as death, but managed to smile at a rather shaky joke my father flung at him, or at my gesticulations, and proceeded to 'steam up' his retarded train. — Edwin Broomhead, Buckleboo.

Kelly Gang Scare.

— It is a long way from the Kelly country to Mount Gambier. Nevertheless, there was a time when Mount Gambler confidently expected a visit from the Kellys.

The bushrangers had made Jerilderie and the surrounding country too hot for them, and had disappeared, no one knew where. That may have accounted for the rumor, which, when once started, ran like wildfire through the town. It must have been believed in Melbourne and Adelaide, for the managers of two banks at least were warned from headquarters to be ready for emergencies, and to keep their revolvers at hand in case of the bank being held up.

The Kellys were supposed to be coming via Casterton, and it was thought they were probably camped in the Limestone Ridge caves just off the Casterton road. Soon, everyone was preparing to meet these dangerous bushrangers, and the whole police force — consisting of a couple of mounted troopers, two or three foot police, and a blacktracker or two— were ready and anxious for the fray.

One day, two horsemen clattered down the main street, and in a second shutters were up, and rifles and revolvers loaded. They turned out to be a couple of harmless shearers, rather merry after 'blueing in' their cheques.

The manager and accountant of the E.S. & A. Bank slept in the office with revolvers under their pillows. At the National they had a much more ingenious plan. The manager's bed-room was just over the bank. He had a hole cut in the floor, and with a revolver he could command the strong-room and shoot down anyone tampering with it, while perfectly safe himself.

There were no telephones then, and no chance of summoning the police in time, as the bushrangers would act promptly. After a very jumpy month or so, Mount Gambier slept in peace again, for the Kellys turned up in their own country, made their last stand, and ended both the scare and their own lives. — 'Gambierite,' Adelaide.

Blackfellows' Logic

— Many years ago a lay missionary used to visit the sheep stations on the West Coast. One evening he called at a boundary riders' hut. The boundary rider was married, and had five or six children. There were also a couple of black boys working there. After tea a service was held, and the blacks were very attentive. The sermon was something about the sheep following the Good Shepherd.

Next morning one of the black boys said to the boundary rider's wife, 'That white pheller tellum plurry lie last night. Sheep can't follow shepherd: only shepherd follow sheep.'

Another black fellow I knew had a lubra who was a bit 'flighty,' and often he had to chastise her for her ill deeds. One day he was giving her rather a severe beating when one of the station hands stopped him. The black looked at him and said. 'A plurry good job I killum; she the baddest lubra in the three colonies, Fowler's Bay, Port Lincoln, and South Australia.'

Some time after this lubra gave birth to a halfcaste child, of which she was very proud. One of the men asked the blackfellow who the father was. 'Me the plurry father,' said the black, 'White ram and white ewe have a black lamb sometimes.' — 'M.J.A.,' Coorabie. W.C.