16 May 1935

KEEPING A PICNIC SELECT

A Corner In Tickets That Did Not Pay

During February and March many country districts organise picnics to the beaches near Adelaide. As the railway fares are usually cheap, such outings are generally well patronised, all available accommodation being filled. In one country town some years ago the leading citizens called a public meeting to consider the annual beach picnic, train arrangements, &c. The Railways Department generally demands a guarantee to cover the cost of the train, and did so on this occasion. 

About a dozen of the leading citizens promptly agreed to sign the guarantee, which was not very much, as the railways were unable to supply more than three carriages for the occasion. They were not taking much of a risk, as there was an absolute certainty of all the carriages being well filled. 

All the arrangements having been duly completed, it was announced that tickets for the picnic could be procured at the various stores belonging to the guarantors. Next morning there was a rush to secure the tickets, which were remarkably cheap. It was the only trip to Adelaide and the seaside that many of the poorer residents were able to afford. Hence the rush. 

Great was their disappointment when they were unable to obtain any tickets. They rushed about the town, but It was the same at every store. The tickets were all sold. The enquirers could scarcely believe the news. Who could have bought all the tickets so quickly? 

Gradually the truth dawned on them. The leading citizens who were the guarantors for the train were also the sellers of the tickets, and as accommodation was decidedly limited, they had sold all the tickets necessary to cover the guarantee to their relatives and friends, and had returned the rest, so as not to have too large a crowd on the train. In other words, the picnic was to be select; limited as it was to leading citizens, their families and relatives. 

Those who were thus prevented from securing a cheap and pleasant holiday were incensed and planned all kinds of revenge, which were never carried out, as the necessary courage was lacking. The guarantors and their relatives received many black looks as the time for the picnic drew near, but they were quite unperturbed, and duly prepared for a glorious time. The disappointed applicants hoped and prayed for rain, but the weather showed no signs of obliging them. 

As the time for the picnic drew near those who had cornered the tickets began to experience a few qualms. The temper of the disappointed ones was now revealed openly, and many feared an ugly scene at the railway station on the morning of the picnic. Early in the morning of the fateful day a few clouds appeared in the sky, but not enough to make even the most chagrined optimistic. Those who had obtained tickets duly waited at the station for the picnic train to pull in. 

There was great excitement when it arrived, and the picnickers rushed the carriages and took their seats, while those who had been unable to obtain tickets booed lustily as the train pulled out of the station. A very dejected throng wended its way homewards from the station, but most of the crowd had not gone very far before they were surprised to hear the engine laboring heavily in its endeavor to climb the rise towards the next station, only a mile or so away. As they listened a few drops of rain fell. A passing shower they thought. The engine continued to labor heavily, but appeared to be stationary. 

Shortly afterwards one of the village lads rode into the main street with the news that the engine was slipping on the track, only a mile out of town. Most of the remaining population of the town walked along the line to discover what was wrong, and as they went it started to rain. By the time they had reached the stranded train it was pouring, but they did not seem to mind. The sight that met their eyes was one of the most pleasant in their lives. 

There in the rain, dressed in all their finery; stood the leading citizens and their friends, while the train reversed and made frantic efforts to race over the greasy rails, now more slippery than ever through the rain. Grease, fat, and oil liberally spread on the rails for some chains ahead proved to be the cause of the delay. 

The leading citizens raged and used very unparliamentary language. The engine crew and guards wore a worried expression, but the crowd that gradually congregated grew more and more cheerful. For several hours the train passengers stood in the rain, and when finally the train was raced over the greasy patch they were in the worst of tempers. As the train moved away from the scene with its annoying on lookers the leading citizens breathed sighs of relief. 

However, their troubles were not yet over. A few miles past the next station there was another slight incline, which the tram found even more difficult to negotiate than the previous one, this having been greased to perfection. After several hours of vain attempts, during which the rain steadily increased, the train had to wait until an engine from a goods train further down the line arrived and pushed it over the greasy rails. 

Needless to say the picnickers found the outing far from pleasant. They arrived at the beach nearly half a day late, wet through and in pouring rain. Back in the town, however, a certain youth, known to be a wag of no mean ability, became the hero of the day and remained so for some years. Fortunately for himself he was never called to account, probably because the leading citizens feared that publicity would mean a still greater loss to their prestige than they had already incurred. — 'Reminiscence.' 

Whisky And Water 

Towards the end of 1912, I was living at a North Adelaide boarding house in which the male boarders occupied a villa adjacent to the main building. It was in charge of a Mrs. Hollett, who was reported to have arrived from England only a few months previously. 

She was a cultured and attractive woman of about 45 years of age, and we often wondered what were the circumstances which led up to her accepting a position in which she was so obviously out of her groove. 

One December evening as I was talking to her near the back door, along strolled Bertie Fraser. Seeing a rope hanging from the rafter near the door of an adjacent shed, he facetiously remarked, "There you are, Mrs. Hollett. Everything is ready if you want to jump off this mortal coil!"

Mrs. Hollett merely smiled, and then replied, "No, Mr. Fraser. If I wanted to do away with myself, I would drink as much neat whisky as possible, and then get into a bath nearly full of warm water. In time I would naturally become stupefied and, gradually sinking under the water, would pass away without suffering in the slightest." 

We both agreed that it was a most novel way of putting an end to one's troubles, but it was the strange manner, in which she brought it out that impressed us. It almost seemed as if at some time or other she had made a close study of the various methods of self-destruction. 

A few weeks later I had arranged to accompany a friend to a concert, and having some difficulty with a white tie, asked Mrs. Hollett to fix it for me, which she did. I thanked her, and jocularly remarked that I would do the same for her one day, or words to that effect. She replied, "You will have to hurry up." But I, thinking that she too, was joking, did not attach any significance to her remark. 

It so happened that as I was leaving for the concert I got some grease on my hands from the gate, so went back to the bathroom to wash them, only to find the door locked. Knowing that no one but Mrs. Hollett could be in there, I called out to make certain. She made some reply which was indistinguishable, but it served its purpose. I apologised, and went elsewhere to wash my hands. 

It was customary for Mrs. Hollett to bring the boarders tea at 7.15 each morning, and at that time on the morning following the concert, Bertie Fraser arrived home from night duty at the cable office, where he worked. His usual cry of "Tea O, Mrs. Hollo," met with no response, nor were there any signs of movement in the kitchen. Suddenly I recalled her last words to me. Could there have been any meaning behind her remark, "You will have to hurry up?"

Jumping out of bed, I ran down to Mrs. Hollett's room, only to find myself forestalled by Fraser, who, with ashen face and quivering voice, informed me that he had found a note on her dressing-table saying that she was tired of life and was taking the easiest way out.  Remembering her conversation with us a few weeks before, we simultaneously made for the bathroom, only to find the door locked. There was nothing left for us to do but send for the police. 

While awaiting their arrival we tried to ascertain if she was in the bath, but were unable to force the door, and the solitary window was too high up and was also locked. A policeman eventually obtained an entrance to the room by breaking the window. He found Mrs. Hollett in the bath, which was nearly full of water. On the floor near the bath was a half empty bottle of whisky. She must have been just lapsing into unconsciousness when I spoke to her the previous evening. 

We afterwards learnt a little of her history, and it was rather a sad story. She was the wife of a wealthy Lancashire merchant with whom, after many years' happy married life, she had a domestic difference. She left home in consequence— she had no children— but her husband discovered her whereabouts and a reconciliation was effected. 

A little while afterwards they quarrelled again, and this time she took passage on an emigrant ship bound for Australia. On arriving here she had to sign on for a year's domestic service to comply with the conditions under which she was granted her passage. That explained how she came to be working at our boarding house. 

It transpired that a day or so prior to the tragedy she has received the news that her husband had died suddenly, and had called for her in his last moments. This must have preyed so much on her mind that she decided to take her own life. 

I have often wondered whether I displayed a lack of intelligence in not connecting up the incidents of the rope, the tie, and the bathroom. Again, was it Fate that caused me to get the grease on my hands and sent me to the bathroom on the evening of her death, to give her another chance, as it were? —'Corstep.' 

Tree That Would Not Fall 

A mate and I were at one time working for a man who had a sawmill and cut railway sleepers. Our job was to cut down large red gum trees and saw them into sleeper lengths. To cut down the trees we put a big gash in one side with the axe and ran the saw through until the tree fell to the ground. 

One day we had a big tree to fell which, had two large limbs, one on each, side like the arms of a balance. How it would fall, or which way it would go, was a very difficult matter to decide. 

After having a good look at it we decided it would fall in a certain direction, and we put the axe cut in accordingly. As is the usual thing in cutting big timber, we put a wedge in the saw cut after the saw had cut about half way through the tree to keep the cut open and let the saw have room to work. 

We had come very close to being through the tree, and the usual thing was that it would fall before it was sawn right through. But this was no ordinary tree, as we were to find out later. 

My mate and I kept on pulling on the saw, and at last cut right through the tree, and there it was standing on its stump, and showed no signs of falling to the ground. 

We both began to feel uneasy, as neither of us had seen anything like it be fore. I told my mate that I would take the maul and hammer on the wedge until I over-balanced the tree and started it falling. 

I got the maul to work, but instead of the tree starting to overbalance and come to the ground it began to circle on the stump. It slowly came right around, and, as it got nearer to the edge. 

My mate was standing a little way up the side of the hill, and calling for me to make a dash out of the way, but I thought I might be safer close to the base of the tree. It came at last to the edge of the stump and then just slipped or rather jumped to the ground, and still stood upright. 

This was too much for me, I no longer considered I was in a safe place. As a rule I was anything but a runner, but I did a really fast sprint for fifty yards or more. We stood in a safe position and watched the old tree slowly but surely lean over on one side and come to the ground. 

It was an unheard of thing to us, and never before or since have we seen or heard of a tree acting in a similar manner.— A.C.