29 March 1934

CHARLES SIMEON HARE 

Pioneer Who Played Many Parts

A pioneer who played many parts was Charles Simeon Hare. Though a quaint and (somewhat eccentric character, he was, nevertheless, a man who possessed many stirling qualities. 

He and his wife came to South Australia before it was proclaimed a colony. They arrived by the Emma, which dropped anchor at Kangaroo Island, October 5, 1836.  For a time, Charles Simeon Hare served the South Australian Company. He then resigned and started a contracting business at Port Adelaide. 

In the new council of 1851 he was chosen to represent the district of West Torrens. He cast his vote against, and was greatly opposed to, State aid to religion, which, at that time, was a subject causing great controversy. He was a close friend of John Stephens, and was his staunch supporter when one trouble after another overtook him. 

When the first Parliament was formed, in 1857, Charles Simeon Hare had a seat in the House of Assembly: being elected as representative for the district of Yatala. 

He was appointed Manager of Railways, and, in this capacity, had an experience which might easily have ended much more tragically, and which brought an abrupt termination to his managership. Sir Dominick Daly (at that time Governor of South Australia) and several members of the Ministry, with a number of distinguished visitors, wished to travel by express train to Port Adelaide, to visit the H.M.S. Falcon. 

The railway system was then in its infancy. Charles Simeon Hare had charge of the train, and gave orders to the engine-driver to "put on full steam". The engine-driver obeyed, with the result that the rails were displaced and two carriages thrown off the line. Fortunately the coupling chain between the engine and carriages broke. Little damage was done and no injuries resulted. 

However, the viceregal party were upset by their experience, and an enquiry was held. This resulted in the services of Charles Simeon Hare being dispensed with. 

He went to Fiji for a time, after which he returned to South Australia, and was again elected to Parliament. The remainder of his life was chiefly taken up by Parliamentary duties.  

A number of humorous stories could be told of incidents in which this quaint politician figured. Few men knew how to sway a crowd better than he. On one occasion he was addressing a large gathering of miners in an effort to secure their suffrages. Noticing a scaffolding and ladder nearby, he ran up the ladder and, standing on the scaffolding exclaimed, "I always like to speak as working man to working men!" From his elevated position he then delivered his speech, which be punctuated by puffing away at a cigar. 

This pioneer passed out at the age of 74, on July 22, 1882. — A.H.B., Halton Gardens.

'Galvanic Shocks'

The late Mr. Jimmy Gibbs, of Morgan, was well known to thousands of travellers by steamer and otherwise for his original sayings and doings. 

When the Chaffey boom was on, and new arrivals on their way to Renmark and Mildura passed through Morgan, Jimmy was in his element. The evening train brought a full complement of passengers, and tea at his hotel, prior to embarking on the coach, was an event to remember. 

I was staying at Morgan waiting for an up-river steamer. So was Mr. Heseltine, grandfather of the well-known secretary of the Adelaide Racing Club, who had interests on the Rivers Darling and Murray by way of steamers which traded as far as Bourke. Whilst waiting for cargo Mr. Heseltine would put in time with his old host and friend. 

Heseltine was somewhat crippled with rheumatism, and had procured an up-to-date full strength galvanic battery, which he manipulated to ease his pain. 

After the departure of the morning train for Adelaide, at 6 a.m., the town was like a calm after a storm. Jimmy was untiring in his efforts to invent something to liven things up. On March 12, 1903, he was rewarded by the arrival of five blacks and three lubras, followed by a swarm of nondescript dogs and several picaninnies. These gave an exhibition of boomerang throwing to the arrivals per evening train. 

Mr. Heseltine was in the parlor with his battery on a table adjacent to the window. Jimmy, being in receipt of a full-size brain wave, asked if he were in favor of a 'lark.' [sic]. The reply being in the affirmative, the adult blacks were called up, and under a promise of refreshment provided by my host, were formed into a half circle, the two end men holding the brass handles, the others grasping hands tightly, completing the circuit. Jimmy told them to hold tight and smile. 

All was set, and Mr. Heseltine received the order, 'Let her go.' The battery was released at its full strength. Immediately the handles were wrenched from the cabinet. Yells, screams, and laughter rent the air. Some of the blacks sat down and howled. Others made for outback. What with the yelping of the dogs and cries of the youngsters, matters were exciting for some twenty minutes. 

That night, and for ever afterwards, Jimmy assured new arrivals that all but the picaninnies turned white during the experiment. It must not be supposed that Mr. Gibbs was antagonistic to the blacks. For many years, as manager of a sheep station, his kindness towards them was well known, and he was regarded by them as 'one good white boss.' Every traveller had a good word to say of Jimmy.— 'Eyewitness,' Mile-End.

Bowden Mill

How many people remember the old mill at Bowden? Its palmy days were in the late fifties of last century. It stood near the present overway at Twelfth street [now Hawker Street], on the north-east lower, a few chains from the railway. It was three stories high. 

In those days flour was from fifty to sixty shillings per bag, and the mill appeared to be doing good business. There was a general manager, a man to do odd jobs, and a man to attend to the engine — one of those connected by a shaft with a large and heavy balance wheel. 

One day this odd man was oiling the machinery. He had fastened a bag around his waist, and was leaning over the shaft. The bag apron caught round the shaft, and when the man felt it tightening on him he called out 'Stop the engine.' 

This was done at once, but they could not stop the revolving wheel and the poor fellow was taken off his feet and his head struck the brick floor several times. When the wheel stopped he was dead. The engine never worked again. 

The business was closed down, everything portable was removed and the engine stood idle for years, but was eventually taken away. The mill went to decay. I have heard that the mill was burnt down, but I don't know. In any case, there is nothing left to mark the spot where it stood.— 'Argus,' Millicent.

Sixty-Five Years Ago

In a copy of the 'S.A. Primitive Methodist Record,' dated May 1, 1869, are records which may be of interest to many people of the southern districts. 

Accounts are given of the anniversaries and other festivities of the Strathalbyn, Underwood, New Hamburg, Milang, and Woodchester churches. 

The minister in charge of the circuit was the Rev. W. Jenkin. Eleven churches comprised this circuit, while the adjoining one of Mt. Barker contained ten. Mr. Jenkin's helpers in this extensive parish were Messrs. S. Stanton, H. Waters, and J. Denny (Langhorne's Creek), J. Golding and T. Wills (Raleigh— now Belvidere), T. and D. Wills (Bull's Creek), G. Kidd (Milang), H. Lamshed. T. Tonkin, G. Thome, R. Neale, and E. Hocking (Strathalbyn). J. Oakes, J. Stoner, J. Stone, H. Pope, and J. Goodwin (on trial). 

In a report of the big gathering at Woodchester during April, an account (reprinted from the 'Southern Argus') is given of a serious accident that happened in connection with a picnic, by which sixteen or eighteen children were seriously injured, and were 'lying about in all directions, cut and bleeding, many unconscious.' 

The cause of the accident was the bolting of the horses taking a trolly load of 25 children from Langhorne's Creek Sunday school to the picnic ground. Three of Mr. [Samuel] Stanton's, and three of Mr. Johnston's children were so seriously injured that grave fears for their recovery were entertained. One little girl Stanton [Ann Stanton, aged 5] eventually succumbed to her injuries. 

Many of the chapels mentioned in the Strathalbyn circuit have now disappeared, and others retain but a feeble existence. —'Lone Star,' Coorow, W.A.

And Blue Still Waits

He is just a dog— a cattle-dog named Blue. His master is dead, but Blue doesn't know that, and his devotion and faithfulness have stood the test of time. All day and most of the night he sits just outside the door of the casualty department at the hospital, watching and waiting for a master who will never come back to him. 

Nearly six months ago, Blue's master, who lived in the country, took him for an afternoon walk. But tragedy was near. The man crossed the road. There was a screech of suddenly applied brakes, a skid, and Blue's master lay a crumpled heap on the roadway. Blue stood by, undecided what to do. The clanging of the ambulance frightened him, but when they put the still figure into the vehicle and took his master, badly injured, to the hospital, Blue followed on. 

The dying man was taken into the casualty department, and the dog waited outside, quite confident that his master would come out again in a few minutes with a kind word and the old whistle. But he was beyond medical aid. Blue didn't know. They wouldn't let him in. So he sat outside and waited. Darkness closed in, but Blue didn't worry. It would be all right. His master would come out soon, out soon. 

Blue has been waiting ever since. The days merged into weeks, the weeks into months, and still he waits. All through the long weeks, in rain and in sunshine, he has never been out of sight of the hospital door. He is always welcome to whatever scraps of food there are, and these are plenty. 

He is well-known now. He never growls or bites at anyone. As Blue loved, so, too, can he hate. Before the accident which parted him from the master he loved, motor cars were vehicles to be chased and barked at in joyous fashion. Now they are a menace to be hated and attacked. Every time he sees a car a low snarl reveals his teeth. He rushes and tries to bite the whirling wheels. He even attacks stationary cars and tries to bite the tyres.

— A. Daly, Adelaide.

Sleep Walking

On a farm in the South-East, 60 years ago, lived a widow with her four sons and a daughter. One winter mysterious happenings took place in the house at night. 

One morning the chimney was found to be white clay washed. The kettle and the saucepans were found whitewashed inside and out. Doors and windows were often found opened. Once two beautifully baked meat pies were found on the table, and the oven was quite warm. It was all very mysterious. 

After a time, the mother noticed the girl's boots were muddy, morning after morning, as if she had been in the creek, she spoke to the girl about it, but she denied the accusation. 

The brothers decided to watch in turns. After a night or so, they saw their sister, fully dressed, leave the house, go to the creek, climb up a big willow, crawl out to a limb over the water, and swing herself back and forth, crooning a song. She did this for some time. 

Then quietly she returned home, undressed, and went to bed. One of the brothers quietly cut the limb off next day without letting anyone know. That night he watched again, saw the sister go to the tree, climb out to the limb that was not there, and splash into the creek. As she felt the water she shrieked. 

The boy fished her out. She had a fit, and then a long and expensive illness. She was never afterwards really well as long as she lived, but she never walked in her sleep again.

— 'S.M.J.,' Maylands.

Snake in Rabbit Hole

A heavy rain had just fallen. My brother and I were striding it out towards the dam, to see whether the water had reached it. We had gone about six chains from the house, when I saw a huge snake lashing round in a rabbit hole filled with water. 

I rushed up, and when his head came to the surface hit at it with my spade, and nearly drenched myself. After a few more hits the snake became more wary, and stopped under water for a longer time. So I had to hit at the bubbles he made. 

Soon these stopped, too, and, on pulling him out, found him to be six feet long and of the carpet variety. On skinning it later on we found ft had a young sleepy lizard in it. — 'Rambler,' Cowell.