16 November 1933

ROMANCE OF EWELL VINEYARD 

BEGAN AS VEGETABLE FARM

Every day we pass old landmarks with a story. We do not know it, and the old places have no interest for us. But when their history is known to us the case is different. This is the tale of a well-known vineyard near Glenelg.

The history of Hamilton's famous vineyards, near Glenelg, dates back for the better part of a century. In the days when our English fore fathers were migrating to Australia and setting up on the land, Richard Hamilton journeyed up to London and, under the Colonisation Act, purchased a 250-acre block of land in Glenelg. The original land order (which is now in possession of present company) was signed by Commissioner Torrens. Hamilton sailed to Australia the following year (1837), but died shortly after his arrival [sic]. His son, who was finishing his education at the famous Bluecoat School (which educated Leigh Hunt and countless other men of letters), came out in the Elenor Forbes [sic] to carry on. He planted vegetables, fruit, and almond trees, and went in for market gardening. It was not until the early forties that the seed of the Ewell Vineyard was, literally, sown. Home-brew was experimented with, and though primarily intended for private use, its success with, the neighbors was such that soon they were asking for it, and in 1849 the first vines were planted. At that time the second Hamilton [sic] died. The concern, then part farm and part embryo brewery, was left to his son Frank. He promptly recognised that there was no room for both crops and vines. So the crops went, and Ewell Vineyard sprang into being. In 1913, the year of Frank Hamilton's death, the yearly output of wine was 15,000 gallons. Twenty odd years passed, and during that period imposing distilleries sprang up, and the popularity of the product grew. At the present day the vineyard is entirely under vines, and the yearly output of the business that began life as a modest farm is close upon half a million gallons! — Gwen Vampany, Hobart.

[Ed: There are several errors in fact in this story. 

Richard Hamilton did not die "shortly after his arrival" but 15 years after his arrival. HAMILTON, Richard, 2; b. 18 Feb 1792 Dover, Kent, England; d. 30 Aug 1852 (aged 60) Adelaide, SA;  e. Burial St Marys Anglican, SA; e. Occupation Tailor in London, Vigneron in SA; e. Education BET 1800 & 1807 Blue Coat School, London, England; e. Immigration 17 Oct 1837 Kathleen Stewart Forbes;  m. HOLMES, Ann 08 Nov 1813Dover, Kent, England; d. 30 Apr 1886

Confusion about who arrived when and which ship. Richard and Ann, with 8 of their 9 children, arrived on the Katherine Stewart Forbes (NOT Elenor Forbes). HAMILTON Richard snr, Ann HOLMES, Eliz Cath, Rd, John, Sarah, Hy, Anne Jane, Rbt, Alf arrived in SA 1837-10-17 on Katherine Stewart Forbes from London.  Richard's son Henry (1826-1907), having finished his education at the Bluecoat School, came out on the Christina in 1841 (not Elenor Forbes).

"... and in 1849 the first vines were planted. At that time [sic] the second Hamilton died" ? Richard died 13 Aug 1852. Perhaps the text refers to him? His son Henry married 5 Aug 1851, and died 10 Feb 1907. Henry's 5th child Frank (1859-1913) carried on the business, with his wife Violet nee Ayliffe.

See also http://www.hamiltonewell.com.au/pdfs/Final-Heritage-Document-Feb2017.pdf  but at this date (Sep 2021) there are errors in that document, too.]

America Cannot Beat This

A station owner near Saltia owned a valuable sheepdog, which, he declared, knew the days of the week and had the ability to count as well. 

The sheep killing was done on Mondays and Fridays. On those days, at 4.30 p.m. the dog, Nigger, was always waiting near the slaughter yard gates. When he heard the order, 'Go, get the sheep,' he used to race off to the paddock where the ration sheep were kept, round up twenty, and bring them to the gate. 

Standing on his hind legs, he would pull the peg fastener out of the gate, push it open, and drive the sheep into the yard, closing the gate after him. The cook would then select those he wanted for killing, and the dog would turn the remainder back into the paddock, going through the gate-opening exploit again. Although the dog lived on the station for a number of years, and rounded up the ration sheep twice weekly, he was never known to bring in more or less than twenty.— 'R.V.H.,' Yeelanna.

Homing Instinct Of Animals

Recent references to the homing instinct of horses brings this story. 

Many years ago a young married couple came to live at Eucla. The young wife left a favorite riding horse at her father's home at Brimer Bay, over 400 miles away. When the young woman was settled down, she wrote to her father to ship her horse to Eucla. He was put on the boat at Brimer Bay, taken to Albany, and transhipped to Eucla, where he seemed to be content for two years. 

Then one morning he was missing, and nothing was heard of him for three months. Eventually a letter arrived announcing the horse had turned up at his old home in very low condition. This was a really wonderful feat, considering he was sent to Eucla by sea and that innumerable fences and other difficulties had to be contended with on his long journey back to his old home.— 'M.J.A.,' Coorabie. 

Native Customs

When the mines were being worked at Yudnamutna, there lived a family of white children, whose parents had charge of the cookhouse. The children found life quiet at times, and often got into mischief. 

One of their exploits was to steal a black baby. They took it home, washed it, and dressed it in some baby clothes. But their pleasure was short-lived, because the gin came looking for the child. When she found it she showed her disgust at the 'dressing up' in no uncertain manner. She took the child away and greased it from head to foot, to take away 'the white phellar stink.' 

An another occasion, a black child was severely burnt through crawling into a fire. The blacks packed the child in a mixture of clay to its waist, and its injuries soon healed.— 'J.M.J.,' Oakbank.

Nuttoo Up A Tree

The proprietors of Parakylia station were the first station-owners in this district to import camels from India for their own use. 

It was on this station, during W. A. Campbell's reign, that an Indian named Nuttoo was sent with a camel to take some rations to an out-station, and, while on his way, was attacked by a bull camel. It first took to the camel Nuttoo was riding, and then to the man, who made for the nearest tree, which he ascended like a wild cat. 

For two days and a night he remained there, closely watched by Aggie, the camel. His predicament was discovered by some of the station hands, and they secured the camel and tied it down. 

Later, this same camel killed a black man at Alice Springs and was destroyed,— 'E.G.,' South Gap.

Reminder To Sandy

In the early sixties two Scotch store-keepers lived in a small township along the River Murray. It was the custom of the religious sect to which both belonged to have prayers offered for brethren by members of the congregation. 

One Sunday it came to Mac's turn to pray. He stood up. After thinking hard for a time he delivered the following 

'Oh, Lord, save Sandy, for he is a liar, He sent me in a bill for £5, and he knows, and I know, and the Lord knows, it should be only £4 10/. Lord save Sandy.' 

Whether the prayer had effect or Sandy was troubled by a guilty conscience I don't know. But Mac's next bill read: — 'To account rendered, £4 10/.'— Wynnis J. Hughes, Wisanger.

Jim's First 'Roo Hunt

In the early days on the West Coast, large mobs of kangaroos roamed through the virgin scrub and mallee, doing much damage to the crops. Hunts were often organised, and a great day it was for all the settlers. 

About the time of the incident I am going to relate, the first batch of the English Barwell boys had landed, and one lad was working for 'Mr. X.' A 'roo hunt was going to be held, so Jim was highly delighted to be asked to join in. He had not done much riding, but his mount, although an old stager, was well schooled in "'rooing." 

The party set off. Jim mounted, carrying a double-barrelled gun. Very soon a party of 'roos was seen. Jim did not need to urge his horse, and soon the pair were having a mad gallop through the scrub, with the dogs in hot pursuit. The new chum had never seen 'roos at close quarters, so as soon as he was near enough he fired both barrels. 

The next instant the old man 'roo was leaping through the scrub quite unharmed. When the remainder of the party caught up, Mr. X. said, 'Well, Jim, did you shoot the roo?' 'Yes,' he replied, 'I didn't kill him, but I shot his two front legs off, because he hopped away on his back ones.'— 'GUM-NUT,' Hamley Bridge.

Outwitting The Bushranger

In the early days, when the Victorian gold rush was at its height, a married man named J— , from the Upper North (S.A.) went over to try his luck at the diggings. At first luck was against him on the field, but later his efforts were rewarded by good finds. 

After some time he decided to return to South Australia again to his wife and family. He headed for home on horseback. Things went quite smoothly at first, until one afternoon some excitement lay in store for him. 

Suddenly a bushranger slipped out from the trees and dense undergrowth, and J — found himself looking down the barrel of a muzzle-loader, and called upon to stop. The bushranger then demanded J— 's valuables. The miner offered no resistance— with the exception that he asked the bushranger first to fire a charge through the corner of his coat, which he held open for the purpose, so as to prove to his wife that he had been held up and robbed. 

The bushranger, after a little hesitation, consented, and shot a hole, with jagged edges, through the miner's coat. This was just what J— was waiting for. The report of the gun startled his horse, and with a sudden flick of his spurs the rider vanished into the scrub, leaving the fuming bushranger hurriedly ramming the next charge into his muzzle-loader. — 'Marananger,' Upper North.

Drastic Punishment

Our sturdy, honest, independent, hard-working pioneers were admirable people, but my opinion is they were too hard on themselves and their children. 

An aunt of mine in the early sixties had by hard toil established a good dairy herd and a small, but good, orchard. Her family of 12 children helped her, and her husband looked after the wheat and hay field and the horses. It was hard living, because all the produce that could be sold had to be disposed of. 

One day the mother went to town, leaving the five youngest children at home, with strict orders not to touch the peach tree, as the fruit would be picked next day to fill an order. 

The temptation was too much for the youngsters, and they ate a few peaches. A big wash tub of peaches was picked next day. 'Now,' said the mother, 'sit down and eat your fill. The children were delighted, and ate until they were satisfied. 'Go on, eat more,' said the mother. 'We have had enough, thank you.' 'Eat, I say,' and she took a switch and beat them until they ate again. Every time they stopped they were beaten again and again. At last they became sick and were sent to bed. 'They will not eat forbidden fruit again,' said the mother. 

Two years passed, and there was a wonderful crop of juicy pears which the children were forbidden to touch. They fell again, and again the tub was filled and the eating and beating and sickness went on as before. These children for the rest of their lives hated peaches or pears in any form. 

One day mother made some boiled rice with a custard on top, enough for 14 people. A girl of 12, coming hungry from school, ate up all the custard. She was soundly whipped, then sent to her room and told to eat up all the rice by bedtime, or there would be another beating. The girl opened the window and called the two dogs to share the feast. Two cousins happened to call and were attracted to the window. They unwillingly, but kindly, finished up the rice. The empty dish was shown, and no rice being about the room, further punishment was averted. Parents in those days kept to their word.— S.M.J.

A Narrow Escape

In the year 1915 a contingent of our soldiers was in training for the Great War. A number of unbroken horses were brought from far northern stations to the parade ground behind Government House. 

These horses, unused to civilisation, required some breaking in. The soldiers, with skill, patience, and kindness at last brought them to walk down the street and face the traffic. 

One morning a soldier was riding a horse and leading several others across North terrace into King William street. A motorist, not noticing them, ran into them. 

The ridden horse leaped into the air and over the motor car, turned a somersault, and landed on its back on the road. The other horses raced over the pavement, scattering pedestrians. 

The people called out. 'Where is the rider?' 'Where is the rider?'— he was nowhere to be seen. He was found inside the motor car, stunned, with a wound in his forehead, which required several stitches.— S.M.J.