THE PADDINGTON
              CEMETERY
An Ithaca Labour Councilor said
            "the tombstones are good road metal." 1907
           
        An
          old cemetery is one of the most pathetic and melancholy
          spectacles in this world, and the pathos of it is deepened
          when it has been allowed to drift into neglect and ruin, with
          broken fences, overturned tombstones, fallen railings,
          obliterated inscriptions, rank weeds, long grass and general
          desolation.
         
          Longfellow said he “loved that ancient Saxon phrase
          which called the burial ground God’s Acre,” but old and
          neglected cemeteries are a poor compliment to the respect
          shown to God’s special property in graveyards.
         
          It is not an honour to our boasted civilization that
          primitive races, and those we are pleased to call “savages,”
          had far more reverence for their dead, than the most highly
          civilised races of the present.
         
          The aboriginal burying grounds of the world were not
          holiday resorts for lewd and frivolous larrikins and
          larrikinesses, and sundry other types of human animals whose
          presence is an insult to the dead. Nor were they feeding
          places for goats and cows, and they were not allowed to drift
          into a condition which is an insult to the living.
         
          The Roman Catacombs (“Roma Sotteranea”), prove the
          reverent care of the ancient Romans for their dead.
         
          The Alabaster Sarcophagus of Psammetichus, and the
          magnificent urns and expensively embalmed bodies of ancient
          Egypt, show a reverence for the dead not paralleled by any
          other nation of the world. And no other nation had ever a
          custom corresponding to the Egyptian “Trial of the Dead,” one
          of the most weirdly dramatic and tragically mournful and
          pathetic spectacles in human history.
         
          To come from the ancient to modern times, let us ask if
          our own fair land of Queensland has a noble record in its
          treatment of the dead men and women, the heroes and heroines
          of the rough old pioneering days of the past, the men and
          women whose life work made stepping stones for the present to
          walk over where they had to swim or wade through many a dark
          morass.
         
          Brisbane’s first cemetery was on the bank of the river
          on the curve of North Quay. That was the graveyard of the
          convict period, a time of horrors unimaginable by the people
          of today. On that then lonely spot, overlooking the placid
          river were deposited the bodies of soldiers, convicts, and
          officers, who died from 1825 to 1839, and today their dust
          lies there in the silence of that river bank, heedless of the
          continuous roar of the city which stands now where they saw
          only the primeval forest, and nightly heard the howl of the
          dingo and the songs of the savage tribes, far less savage than
          the whites of that period. They lie there forgotten, the
          flogger and the flogged, the slayer and the slain.
         
          The old headstones from that graveyard were removed
          many years ago to the  cemetery at Paddington.
         
          There was also another early cemetery by the river and
          Roma Street, in front of where the Helidon Spa establishment
          is situated. The tombstones from there were also removed to
          the Paddington cemetery which is therefore the most venerable
          graveyard in Queensland, the one with the most
          fascinating historical associations, the one surrounded by the
          most pathetic and romantic memories of the early days of
          Queensland.
         
          The ancient Necropolis, venerable with age and sacred
          to the memory of our early settlers, was the subject for
          discussion in a recent meeting of the Ithaca Shire Council,
          which decided that it should be vested in the Council, and
          transformed into a recreation ground.
         
          In answer to a question concerning the disposal of
          headstones, Labour Alderman White replied : “Break them up and
          use them for the footpaths; they make good road metal!”
         
          And nobody even attempted to brain him with a ruler!
          Probably the braining process would be as much a physical
          impossibility with White as it would be with a piemelon, but
          some might have at least have mercifully have thrown him over
          a precipice if there was one convenient.
         
          Darwin said that today, even among the most highly
          civilised races, there are a number of men still in the
          Troglodyte stage, men who have the skulls and intellects of
          cave dwellers who sat in their dark dwelling places and gnawed
          the grilled bones of even their own parents, when having a
          special feast.
         
          To such men there is nothing sacred, and they care for
          nothing but the welfare of their own carcasses.
         
          It was said of Cato that his love of gold was such, he
          sifted the ashes of his dead father, to see if they would pan
          out a few pennyweights. There are men who would dig up graves
          for the sake of the shrouds on the dead, and have them made
          into shirts.
         
          Some of the Ithaca aldermen are evidently still in the
          Troglodyte stage, a stage at least ten thousand years lower
          than that of any savage race of today. The proposal to insult
          the dead by making road metal of their tombs give the Ithaca
          Council, and Alderman White, an unenviable distinction that we
          gladly believe will stand as the only record of the kind in
          Australian history, from the landing of Phillip to the far off
          period when this continent is to be once more submerged in the
          ocean. If Alderman White’s skull is not broken up for road
          metal after he is dead it ought to be placed in the Museum
          beside that of the Diprotodon, and other extinct animals of
          the Post Pliocene period in Australia. And the “Daily Mail”
          sent out a Troglodyte reporter who approved of Alderman
          White’s advice.
         
          This is the first appearance of the Troglodyte in
          Queensland journalism. It is safe to say that on no other
          paper is such a reporter possible, at least not on the staff.
          He would be kept in an iron cage in the yard, and fed on
          thistles.
         
          The Paddington cemetery holds most of the historic
          people of Moreton Bay and Queensland. And in a series of
          articles we shall endeavour to save the names and deeds
          of the most remarkable from the oblivion of time.
         
          Before entering those old cemeteries in that solemn,
          little valley, which may be called the Valley of the Shadow of
          Death, it may be well to have a glance at the outside. In
          those days, the various sects extended their exclusiveness
          beyond the grave, and so the Wesleyan, the Jew, the Roman
          Catholic, and the Church of England dead were kept carefully
          apart by a fence or a street. It was a somewhat inconsistent
          scheme on the part of those who believe in a resurrection that
          is to find all equal before God on the Day of Judgment. But
          theology is not one of the exact sciences, and is subject to
          many amendments. Today, in the Toowong cemetery, all sects
          sleep as it were in the same room on apparently harmonious
          terms, as there is no recorded case of a general disturbance.
         
          Outside all the sects were two classes of unfortunates
          to whom consecrated burial was denied. Those were suicides,
          who murdered themselves, and malefactors whom the law murdered
          on the gallows. These are the dead “outside the fence,” though
          there is no reason to suppose they have not slept as
          peacefully, as those inside.
         
          No headstones were placed over these lost souls, and so
          their graves are not discoverable today. Their names only are
          found in the records. No one call tell who was the first
          honest person inside, or the first criminal outside.
Toowong
          Cemetery started with the grave of Miss Hill, a daughter of
          the late Walter Hill, who was first Curator of the Brisbane
          Botanic Gardens, in 1855. The next grave was that of Governor
          Blackall, on January 3, 1871. (Correction: Ann Hill was buried
          November 3, 1871)
Today the
          dead in Toowong Cemetery are more in number than the whole of
          the living in Queensland at the date of Separation, when the
          population was represented by 25,000 people.
         
          Among the men buried in the old graveyard between Roma
          Street and the North Quay were two named Stapylton and Tuck.
          Stapylton was one of three surveyors sent up by Governor Gipps
          to start a trigonometrical survey of the Moreton Bay district,
          the other two being Dixon and James Warner, who was, in after
          years, Sergeant-at-Arms in the Assembly.
Stapylton and his two men, Tuck and Dunlop, were attacked by the blacks near Mt. Lindsay, and Stapylton and Tuck were killed, Dunlop being left as dead, but he crawled into the scrub and was found there alive by the relief party from Brisbane, and recovered dying only about 10 or 12 years ago.
         
          The remains of Stapylton and Tuck were brought to
          Brisbane and buried in that old ground near Roma Street, where
          they may be turned up some day in an excavation or a posthole.
         
          Two blacks named Merridoo and Noogamill were captured
          in May 1841, taken to Sydney, tried and sentenced to death,
          brought back to Brisbane and hanged from a beam on the present
          Observatory, the old convict windmill.
         
          These two blacks, the first men hanged in Brisbane,
          were also buried not far from Stapylton and Tuck.
         
          The railway station of Stapylton on the Southport line
          perpetuates the name of the dead surveyor. 
         
          Among those outside the fence in the Paddington
          cemetery is a black called Dundalli, hanged in 1854 in Queen
          Street on the site of the present Post Office. He was charged
          with several murders, including those of Mr. Gregor and Mrs.
          Shannon at the Pine River, in 1846.
         
          In the same month, another black called “Davey” was
          hanged in Queen Street for killing Mr. Trevethan at Wide Bay,
          and he too, is “outside the fence” at Paddington.
         
          Many readers will remember Lachlan McLean, the once
          well-known and respected blacksmith, of Elizabeth Street. His
          father and family came to Sydney from Ross-shire in Scotland,
          in 1841, and six months afterwards came on to Brisbane, where
          McLean, senior, was the first blacksmith. He died about 40
          years ago and was buried at Paddington.
         
          There was a remarkable incident on the day of the
          funeral. At the moment of passing the old gaol at Petrie
          Terrace, now a police barracks, an aboriginal prisoner named
          “Tommy Skyring” was attempting to escape. He had climbed to
          the top of the wall, and was just about to lower himself, when
          a warder shot him dead, and he fell alongside the funeral
          procession, nearly on top of one of the mourners.
         
          Tommy was one of three blacks who killed Stevens, the
          botanist in 1866, near Mooloolah, at the spot still known as
          the “Dead Man’s Lagoon.”
         
          It appears that Tommy gave himself up to the police, as
          Stevens haunted him. He said the dead man came repeatedly and
          looked over his shoulder, and this so scared Tommy that he
          refused to eat, and wasted away to a shadow.
         
          But the old love of freedom overcame him, and he was
          making a dash for it once more when the warder’s carbine
          stopped him at the start.
         
          He, too, lies outside the fence at Paddington among the
          unwept, unhonored and unsung.
         
          At present in Brisbane are some visitors from Scotland,
          impelled by a desire to find among the Paddington dead, the
          grave of a relative who was buried there in 1864, and they
          have been successful.
         
          Since the Toowong cemetery started a number of people
          have been taken up and removed to there. Among these were the
          members of the McLean family.
         
          Among those buried in the Presbyterian section at
          Paddington was the Rev. Thomas Mowbray, a once well-known
          Presbyterian parson, whose name is retained by “Mowbray Park”
          at South Brisbane.
         
          He was father of the present Mowbray P.M. of Warwick,
          and the late Willie Mowbray, once P.M. at Herberton, and
          finally at Gympie.
         
          He was also father of the wife of the still juvenile
          and vivacious Dr. John Thompson, the most experienced medical
          man in Queensland.
         
          The Mowbray Estate remained in the hands of the family
          until recent years, the last of it being sold to the South
          Brisbane Council, who made it the public Mowbray Park of
          today.
         
          The remains of the Rev. Thomas Mowbray were removed in
          after years to the cemetery at South Brisbane, where Mrs.
          Mowbray, who died ten or twelve years ago, is also buried.
         
          Among those in the Catholic ground at Paddington are
          the remains of a Mr. And Mrs. Loague who came out from
          Londonderry, in Ireland, in 1852.
         
          Loague was for many years a highly esteemed officer in
          the Police Force, stationed at Petrie Terrace gaol.
         
          One of his daughters, a fine-looking woman, married a
          Mr. Mylchreest, who was for many years pilot and harbour
          master at Cairns, the first there, a six foot two,
          broad-shouldered man, who died leaving one son and one
          daughter.
         
          The son died, and the daughter, one of the finest
          specimens of women in North Queensland, married a Mulgrave
          River stockowner named Simmonds, who died some years ago,
          leaving a widow and four children, one of whom, the eldest
          girl, is married and residing at present in Wynnum.
         
          It is especially interesting to find such proofs as
          these that there has been no deterioration, in the second or
          third generations, and that Loague’s descendants today are
          quite equal in physique to their old Hibernian ancestors. A
          few facts like these dispel many illusions concerning the
          adaptability of Queensland, North and South, for the white
          races.
         
              The smallest graveyard at Paddington is that of the
              Wesleyans. It has also the distinction of being the most
              neglected. There does not appear to have been more than 70
              or 80 people buried there, and some of the graves have
              either not been marked by headstones, or some of those
              stones have been broken or removed.
         
              A few score are lying on their faces, as tombstones
              frequently do even when erect, and here and there is
              merely a fragment bearing a part of an inscription.
         
              On some graves the headstones alone indicate the
              site, the wooden railings having long since decayed, or
              been broken or removed for firewood, by some of the ghouls
              who do these things at night when the nocturnal reptiles
              are out in search of prey. The surrounding fence has also
              supplied much firewood, which left panels with no rails,
              or one rail, and here and there dreary gaps in the
              palings, with signs of age, and neglect, and decay, and
              the trail of desolation over it all. Alone of all that is
              not dismal, and dead, and forgotten, or unfit to be seen,
              stand two or three silky oaks and a Bunya pine, of which
              we might say, as Byron said of the cypress:
“Dark tree still sad when
                others’ grief has fled,
The only constant mourner
                o’er the dead.”
         
              The oaks, which are about 40 feet in height, afford
              favourite climbing exercise for the small boys of the
              locality and only a very foolish sparrow ever builds a
              nest on even the highest branch.
         
              At the south-east corner of the cemetery is a
              recumbent vault stone telling us that below is all that is
              mortal of Annie Thompson Pugh, wife of Theophilus P. Pugh,
              whose name will be handed on to posterity associated with
              “Pugh’s Almanac.”
         
              Pugh was once a member for North Brisbane, and
              while in the House voted for the repeal of the Civil
              Service Act.
         
              When he stood again for Brisbane, the whole Civil
              Service was waiting for his blood, and he was thrown out
              with a loud bang.
         
              Pugh was a little man with so much restless energy
              that he was known as the “Industrious Flea.”
         
              On the stone is only one line stating that:
“She never caused her
                friends to grieve until she died.”
a neat
              epigram such as shows that brevity is often the soul of
              eloquence as well as of wit.
         
              Mrs. Pugh died on March 1, 1866, aged 33 years.
         
              Near the grave is a stone with the name of William
              Alfred Finney, the eleven months son of Thomas and Sidney
              Ann Finney.
         
              Sidney House, at Toowong, bears the name of the
              mother, and she and the once well-known Tom Finney,
              founder of the firm of Finney Isles and Co., are in the
              same Land of Shadows as the child who died on June 11,
              1869.
         
              That is one of the only three graves in a decent
              condition, but yet one naturally wonders why it has not
              received more attention, or the stone removed to Toowong.
         
              The best kept grave there, apparently recently much
              improved, is that of Henry Edward Tom, second son of Henry
              and Emma Tom, a child of two years and five months, who
              died on August 22, 1864.
         
              That was 43 years ago, but the memory of the lost
              child is still green in the hearts of some of the Tom
              family, well-known and respected squatters today on the
              Maranoa.
         
              Pathetic beyond expression are these childrens'
              graves, and there are many of them.
“Only a child,” says the casual fool who has not known sorrow, or is not capable of feeling nor caring that
“out of the souls of the mothers of these, the light and joy of their life has fled,”
as
              they consigned those once dearly loved white shrouded
              little forms to the dust.
         
              Very singular are fatalities in some families.
Amy Josephine Leigh died on April 18, 1867, aged 8 months, and next year William Theodore Leigh died on January 17, at exactly the same age. The stone tells us that they were
“children of Thomas Leigh, and Jane White.”
       
            White, presumably being the mother’s maiden name.
              The inscription reads:-
“They have early flown,
                dear, suffering ones,
Home to their rest,
They have early learned the
                simple tones
In the land of the Blest,
In that painless clime, in
                that region fair,
Sweet Amy, dear Willie,
                we’ll meet you there.”
The oldest grave appears to be that of Johanna Sutherland, who died on December 14, 1852, aged 70, and next comes George Poole, a Brisbane chemist and druggist, who died on May 6, 1853, at 30 years of age. Of him it is said that
“he
                died triumphant in the faith of the Gospel.”
The Markwell family, well-known since early days, are represented by Mary Ann, wife of John Markwell, dead on April 8, 1855, aged 30, and Mary Ann, the wife of Isaac Markwell, dead on November 2, 1862, aged 45. Evidently Mary Ann was a favourite name in that family.
         
              On the tomb of the wife of W. J. Killick
              Piddington, dead on October 25, 1866, aged 36, is this
              inscription, referring to her eight year old son, who died
              on September 27, 1865:-
“Yes, ‘tis sweet balm in our
                despair,
Fond, fairest boy,
That Heaven is God’s, and
                thou are there,
With Him in joy;
Farewell then,
for a while farewell,
Pride of my heart,
It cannot be that long we
                dwell,
Thus torn apart.”
         
              These are two verses from a very little known poem,
              one of the most pathetic in the language. It appeared with
              the title of “Casa Wappy,” the pet name of the poet’s son,
              who died at the age of four or five, and each double verse
              ended with the name. They are among the finest In Memoriam
              verses ever written, and the author was the famous
              Scotsman, Dr. Macbeth Moir. They first appeared in
              “Blackwood’s,” over the nom-de-plume “Delta” in 1847.
         
              On one tomb is the name of Eliza, wife of Charles
              Abraham, whose name would indicate a Hebrew origin, but
              she may have been a Christian. She was born on July 15,
              1813, and died on March 12, 1875. One of her sons is today
              a Brisbane town traveler for a firm bearing a Semitic
              name.
         
              On her headstone is the following eulogy:-
“She was  - but words
                are wanting to say what!
Think what a wife should be,
                and she was that.”
         
              Florence Gertrude was the seven months daughter of
              Charles Henry and Caroline Harley, who inscribed over the
              tomb of this young soul thus prematurely hurried from the
              world:
“To those who for her loss are grieved
This consolations give,
She from a world of woe was called
To bloom, a rose in Heaven!”
         
              The name of Harley was well-known to Brisbane in
              recent years in the firm of Rogers and Harley, printers,
              of Elizabeth Street.
         
              The name of “William” (buried on July 7, 1868) four
              days’ old son of William H. and Minna Miskin, now in
              Rockhampton, was once a well-known Brisbane solicitor, who
              for some years was also Official Trustee in Insolvency,
              and he lived out at Toowong.
         
              He was an enthusiastic entomologist, and by
              purchase and exchange made one of the finest butterfly and
              moth collections in Queensland.
         
              But the blue serenity of the Miskin household was
              overclouded by a darkness that might be felt. A new and
              strange planet, called “Governess,” swung into the orbit
              of the Miskin system, and the lawful occupant of that
              sphere appealed to the Terrestrial laws, and Miskin and
              “Governess” swung off into an orbit of their own, and have
              remained there ever since.
         
              Miskin’s butterflies were sold to the Brisbane
              Museum for £250, and are there at the present time, all
              except one specimen – “Governess Superbus”- which he
              wisely retained.
         
              One of his brothers, A. E. Miskin, was once owner
              of Bundall plantation on Nerang Creek, his partner for a
              time being “Charley Morris,” the present C. A. M. Morris
              P.M. of Ipswich.
         
              This Miskin afterwards took up a 1280 acre
              selection of the Johnstone River and settled there.
         
              But the four day’s old baby of July, 1868, has
              slumbered in blissful unconsciousness, and the mother, a
              most esteemable woman, is far away from the lonely grave
              of the child of her early days.
         
              James Stevens died on August 27, 1866, aged 75
              years, and the headstone was “Erected by his bereaved
              widow.” Alas! Alas! Thus are we ever face to face with the
              Eastern Monarch’s Proverb:
“Take all the world can give
                or land,
But know that death is at
                the end!”
         
              “Letitia, wife of Robert Raymond,” is all that one
              headstone records.
Jane, the wife of Henry Franklin, once a builder in Fortitude valley, died on September 5, 1859, leaving this message:
“Farewell, my husband, I’m
                gone before,
My love for you can be no
                more,
Grieve not for me, nor
                sorrow take,
But love my children for my
                sake.”
         
              James Wakefield, who died at 57, on July 8, 1857,
              was father of the well known Hiram Wakefield. His widow
              died on July 4, 1873, aged 68. 
         
              Remarkable are the deaths of so many young women.
              Mary Ann, the wife of Henry Walpole, an old time Valley
              tradesman, died on August 5, 1854, aged 21. Her sister
              Francis died on October 15, in the same year, aged 18, and
              a child who survived her, died at 21 – the same age as her
              mother.
Elizabeth, wife of Daniel Allen, cabman, of Fortitude Valley, died at the age of 30, on May 6, 1875. She was born in Roscrea, Tipperary and left three sons. She buried her first two infant children in unmarked graves in the Church of England portion of the cemetery.
         
              Henry John Isaac Markwell, son of John Markwell,
              and one of the dandies of the period, a fine young fellow,
              was killed off his horse on the Toowong road.
         
              Fanny, the wife of William Sexton, of South
              Brisbane, died on March 12, 1872, aged 27, and Susannah
              Sarah, wife of E. J. Kingston, a Valley storekeeper, died
              on October 8, 1859.
         
              The old Brisbane Costin family, well known today,
              gave the grave, on May 7,1875, a young man of 18½ years,
              son of Thomas A. Costin, once a Queen Street saddler,
              whose successor was the well known Jarman. His brother, W.
              J. Costin, is the present chemist in the Valley, and
              father of W. C. Costin, the Clerk of Parliaments. His
              brother, J. T. Costin, is in charge of the lithographic
              department in the Government Printing Office, and one of
              his sons, J. M. Costin, went recently to Thursday Island
              as Shipping and Fisheries Inspector.
         
              Mr. And Mrs. Thomas Costin, the grandparents, came
              to Moreton Bay in September, 1848, on the advice of T. H.
              Green, Mrs. Costin’s brother, who was then a merchant and
              stock and station agent in South Brisbane. The Costins
              went in those days to the church on the present site of
              the Longreach Hotel. Then Costin, J. P. Smith, A.
              Warricott, Freeman, and Chambers, started the first
              Methodist cause in Queensland in a little lane on the site
              of the present “Telegraph” newspaper, and the first
              minister to arrive was the Rev. William Moore, the first
              church being erected in Albert Street and Burnett Lane,
              and doing duty for some time for both Methodists and
              Congregationalists.
         
              In those days the present Angus Gibson, M.L.C.,
              lord of Bingera plantation, was making a living out of
              cabbage growing at Bulimba. In 1863 he was going along
              Queen Street and heard singing in the Albert Street
              church. It must have been first class singing, for it
              fascinated Angus, and he went in and became a Methodist,
              and has continued to be one ever since. This is the tale
              told by Angus himself.
         
              Jane Merry, wife of T. F. Merry, died on May 26,
              1865, aged 32. She was the first wife. Merry was for years
              a draper in the Valley, when Tom Finney was there in the
              same business, before he came to Queen Street. He is still
              alive, and a member of the firm of Barnes and Co., of
              which Barnes M.L.A., is the head.
         
              Caroline Rhodes, who died on March 2, 1864, at the
              age of 21, was a daughter of Ralph Rhodes, who then had
              the Sawyers Arms Hotel in George Street, where Trittons is
              today. Rhodes and his wife were people much esteemed and
              their carefully kept house was a favourite resort for
              people from the country. He married a second time, but
              both are dead. Rhodes had a daughter named Cordelia, who
              married a George Gotcher, and died on August 24, 1869,
              aged 25 years. Her mother, Rhodes’ first wife, Margaret,
              died on August 26, 1869, aged 53 years, so that mother and
              daughter died within two days of each other.
         
              The stone over John Bucknell Waldron, who died at
              27 on July 26, 1861, was erected by the children of the
              Congregational Sunday School “as a token of love and
              esteem for a kind teacher.” How many of those children are
              alive today?
         
              Harriett Paten, wife of John Paten, died on
              February 24, 1861. Paten, in 1856, was a leading bootmaker
              in Queen Street, and he and “Bobby Cribb” were associated
              in business. The headstone records that
“And
                as we have borne the image of the earthly,
we
                shall also bear the image of the Heavenly.”
Clara Alice Harries, wife of Eustace Henry Harries, died on April 25, 1870, and the stone says she was
“Blest in hope, revered in memory.”
       
            She died in giving birth to her first baby.
              Harries was a draughtsman in the Colonial Architect’s
              Department, of 40 years ago.
         
              Catherine Ann Girling, wife of William Girling,
              died on November 14, 1865, aged 21, and her sister Mary
              Smith Deacon, died on November 27, aged 20.
         
              By this time the reader will doubtless have noticed
              the astonishing number of deaths among young women aged
              between 16 and 21, and here comes a remarkable statement
              by one of Brisbane’s oldest inhabitants, a man who has
              been here since 1851. He says that in the early days there
              was much bad water, total disregard of drainage, cesspit
              closets of the worst type, and no attention to sanitation.
              Much fever, then considered to be malarial, was certainly
              typhoid. The critical age was that from 16 to 22, and once
              over 22, there was a prospect of a fairly long life. The
              death rate among children and young girls was terribly
              high. Painfully conspicuous is the absence of old people
              in the cemetery.
         
              Among all in the Methodist section, there are only
              two over 60 and two over 70. The majority are under 30.
              And young men appeared to have no more immunity than
              women, as the list will show.
Among those, R. B. Boardman Silcock died in January, 1865, aged 38; Menander Malcolm on June 28, 1872, aged 27; G. G. Stokes on October 28, 1872, aged 22 years; and James Chapman, on November 10, 1867, aged 13 years. On his headstone are the words,
“Faith
                looks beyond the grave, and on to light and
                immortality.”
Over Stokes are the words,
“Man cometh forth as a flower and is cut down.
He
                fleeth also as a shadow and continueth not.”
         
              With this we finally leave the Methodist cemetery,
              one of God’s most neglected acres.
“Where the traveller meets
                aghast,
Sheeted memories of the
                past;
Shrouded forms that start
                and sigh,
As they pass the wanderer
                by;
White robed forms of friends
                long given
In agony to the earth and
                  heaven.”
         
              When the Paddington cemeteries were first reserved,
              that region was then “out in the bush,” and apparently
              no-one foresaw an extension of Brisbane in that direction
              within the lifetime of any of the existing generation.
         
              The ridges sloped down from Petrie Terrace into a
              swamp at the bottom. In those days ducks and herons and
              snipe fed in that swamp, and kangaroos and wallabies
              hopped through the ironbarks and spotted and box gums on
              the surrounding slopes. At night there was heard the
              mournful howl of the furtive dingo, and the call of the
              melancholy stone plover. Blacks climbed the trees and cut
              out the opossum and the wild bees nest. Electric trams
              were far off, in an unknown and unimagined future. The
              Philp and Kidston and Bowman parties were lying dormant in
              protoplasm, like the egg of Eros in Chaos, to be hatched
              one day by numerous strange devices. Around Brisbane
              stretched the primeval wilderness, to unknown regions
              beyond.
         
              These thoughts arise as we stand in the
              Presbyterian cemetery, by the grave of Andrew Petrie, that
              fine old Scot, who came to Sydney as one of a select band
              of Scottish mechanics in the Stirling Castle in 1831.The
              stone tells us that he was born on June 25, 1798, and died
              at Brisbane on February 20, 1872. What eventful 41 years
              occupy that space from 1831 to 1872! And how closely are
              the Petries identified with the early history of
              Queensland! Tom Petrie, who lives at the North Pine, is
              today, at 71 years of age, the oldest resident of
              Queensland. He came here as a year old baby with his
              parents in 1837.
         
              In 1837 Andrew Petrie was engaged in Sydney as
              foreman of Works in Moreton Bay and he and his family came
              up in the small steamer James Watt. In the following year
              Petrie first discovered coal at Redbank, where the Tivoli
              mine is today. In 1838 e discovered the Bunya pine at the
              Blackall Range and brought the first plants to Brisbane.
              This tree actually received the name “Pinus Petriane,” but
              J. C. Bidwell, a collector of that time, sent some
              specimens to London and it was named “Araucaria Bidwilli”,
              the name it bears today. Bidwell is buried at the mouth of
              Tinana Creek.
         
              Petrie’s first work at Moreton Bay was the repair
              of the treadmill, the Observatory of today. From a window
              of that Observatory, in 1841, there projected a beam, on
              which two aboriginals were hanged, though proved
              afterwards to be innocent. The gallows were arranged under
              Petrie’s instructions, and the hangman, who came from
              Sydney, complimented him on his work. Petrie was not proud
              of the compliment. In May 1842, accompanied by Henry
              Stuart Russell, author of the “Genesis of Queensland,”
              Joliffe, Wrottesley, a convict crew, and two aboriginals,
              Petrie went on that memorable Mary River and Wide Bay trip
              from which they brought back Bracefell and Davis, the two
              convicts who had been ten and fourteen years respectively
              with the blacks. Andrew Petrie was a fine specimen of a
              man, tall and good looking, with curly hair and beard. His
              sons, too, were all tall, fine men, and only Tom is left.
              One of his daughters married the late Bob Ferguson, who
              stood six feet four. Bob was for many years Inspector of
              Works, and among his early contracts was the erection of
              the Sandy Cape lighthouse, in 1872.
         
              In the same railing as Andrew Petrie, is Mary
              Cuthbertson Petrie, who died on June 1, 1855, also Walter
              Daniel, a year and ten months child of John and Jane
              Petrie, died on November 3, 1857. This child would be a
              brother of the present Andrew Petrie M.L.A.
         
              Andrew Petrie had a son named Walter, who at 20
              years of age, was an exceptionally powerful young fellow.
              At that time, a small creek ran from the present Roma
              Street station down across Queen Street, by the site of
              the present New Zealand Buildings, and into the river at
              the end of Creek Street.
         
              Walter Petrie fell in, and was found drowned,
              partly buried in the mud, and grasping a bunch of
              mangroves in his hand. As he was a splendid swimmer, he
              must have hurt himself in the fall. His brother, John
              Petrie, father of A. L. Petrie, M.L.A., had a child whom
              he named Walter after the drowned youth. There was a
              singular coincidence when that child at a year and ten
              months old, was drowned in the same creek responsible for
              the death  of
              the uncle whose name he bore. That is the child in the
              Paddington grave.
         
              There is also another child of five months, Annie
              Petrie, who died on December 21, 1863. Here then is the
              grand old warrior pioneer of the early days, for ever at
              rest, while:
“The
                Almighty hand from an exhaustless urn,
Pours
                out the never ending flood of years.”
         
              And all we who are alive are but as a foam wreath
              on the advancing wave behind which lies the dead ocean of
              the past.
         
              Matilda Buxton, who died on March 3, 1866, aged 41,
              was the wife of J. W. Buxton, who had a stationary and
              fancy goods shop in Queen Street, where Ryder the tailor
              is today. They buried two of their children, Matilda
              Adelaide, on April 11, 1862, and Ada Matilda, on March 3,
              1865.
         
              An elegant marble column, with a draped crest, is
              over the grave of Celia Sabina Craies, wife of William
              Craies, first manager of the Bank of New South Wales in
              Brisbane. The stone says:
“So long thy power hath
                blessed us,
Sure it still will lead us
                on,
O’er moor and craig and
                torrent,
Until the night is come.”
         
              The only other marble headstone is over a son of
              Archibald McMillan, owner of some of the first vessels in
              the Polynesian traffic. The boy, aged 11, died on March
              28, 1866.
         
              Jessie Mainwaring, wife of a once leading Queen
              Street tailor, died on July 29, 1875, aged 37 years.
         
              Adam Cumming, aged 31, died on May 23, 1861. He
              succeeded John Stephens, brother of T. B. Stephens, and
              uncle of the present Hon. W. Stephens, as secretary of the
              Queensland Steam Navigation Board.
William Cowans, who died on February 3, 1871, at the early age of 32, was a bookseller and stationer in Edward Street. The stone says:
“The spirit and the bride say come;
and let him that heareth say come;
and let him that is athirst come;
and whoever will,
let him take the water of life freely.”
       
            We have certainly no desire to be irreverent, but
              this does read like a free invitation from a newly married
              couple who have opened an hotel. All epitaphs ought to
              leave not a shadow of anything suggesting the ridiculous.
              They should be severely clear, and concise, elegant and
              expressive. Heaven knows there is a vast supply to select
              from.
         
              Mary Jeffcoat died March 3, 1855, aged 50, and
              Julia Jeffcoat on September 15, 1862, aged 49. Descendants
              of this family are still well known in Ipswich.
         
              Jessie Campbell Mackellar, who died on January 11,
              1872, aged 29, was the wife of Alexander Mackellar, a once
              prominent printer and lithographer, whose maps of Brisbane
              were famous at one time, and are still well known.
         
              Alexander McDonald, an Argyleshire Highlander, was
              a well-known tide waiter in the Customs, at Lytton. He was
              father of Alick McDonald, known to us today as the
              landlord of the Shamrock Hotel, in Edward Street. One
              daughter was married to Murray Prior, the handsome
              barrister brother of Mrs. Campbell Praed. He died a few
              years ago at an early age. The tombstone over McDonald was
              “erected by his friends and brother officers.”
         
              Donald Coutts, who died on December 27, 1857, was
              the owner of “Toolburra,” the first station taken up on
              the Darling Downs, by Patrick Leslie in 1841. He was a
              brother of Tom Coutts, who died recently at Toolburra. Tom
              was the owner who sold the station, or part of it, to the
              Government, and acquired some prominence in a recent
              Parliament in connection with a letter written to him by a
              prominent member of Parliament who was alleged to have
              claimed commission. Donald Coutts was killed by the kick
              of a foal, at Bulimba, where he resided in a house built
              for D. C. McConnell. Beside his grave is that of a
              sister-in-law, Anna Maria Thompson, who died on March 8,
              1862, aged 47, and the stone says:
“A pilgrim panting for the
                rest to come,
An exile anxious for her
                native home.”
Jessie Guthrie, who died on June 20, 1871, was the wife of John Guthrie, who was first a solicitor with Little and Brown, and afterwards on his own account. He lived in a house called “Lucerne,” long occupied afterwards by John Scott, once Chairman of Committees, at Milton. Beside it stood one of the handsomest fig trees in Brisbane. Jessie was Guthrie’s first wife. His second was Miss Fowles, sister of William Lambert Fowles, once Legislative Assembly for Clermont, and father of the present Under-Secretary in the Treasury. Guthrie was residing at Wooloowin, when he died, and his second wife now resides in Tasmania. In the grave with the first wife are her two children, Mary Isabella, aged 4, and Francis Drummond, aged 2, one died in July 1864, the other in July, 1861. Intensely pathetic are those graves that hold the mothers and their children.
         
              John Randall, who died on November 31, 1873, aged
              45, was head master of the Normal School, and his pupils
              and friends erected his headstone as a memorial of their
              esteem. He opened the school at first with a graceful
              little speech, in which he expressed a hope that they
              would all be conspicuous for punctuality, and equally
              obedient to him in school and their parents at home. The
              youngsters afterwards held a public meeting in the
              playground, to discuss if it was possible to thus serve
              two masters. This awful problem was left unsolved. Randall
              left a family, deservedly held in high esteem. They lived
              for many years next the brewery at Milton, but are now
              residing on Gregory Terrace. One daughter is the wife of
              B. W. McDonald, manager of the A.U.S.N. Company.
         
              There were originally five sons and five daughters,
              but three of the sons are dead. All five daughters are
              married.
         
              Janet M. Burns, who died on February 6, 1875, was
              the eldest 4½ year old daughter of John and Jane Burns.
              John Burns was partner to the once well known firm of J.
              and J. Burns, now represented by Burns, Philp & Co, in
              whose firm James Burns is managing partner.
         
              Alexander Gordon Cummings, who died on December 28,
              1866, was the four year old child of Charles C. and Helen
              Cummings, who in those far off days, kept an hotel at the
              corner of George and Turbot Streets. 
George Phillips was a carter and contractor on Spring Hill, and he and his wife, Eliza, buried their son, William, aged 30, on September 23, 1871, and the stone says:
“Walking humbly with his God,
he was prepared to obey the summons
‘Come up hither.’
Be
                ye also ready” 
         
              John Murray, who died aged 33, on January 11, 1866,
              left a widow who married a Mr. Nott. Murray was the most
              expert painter and glazier of his time and Nott had a
              general store in Elizabeth Street. Mrs. Nott survives him
              and still resides out near Woolloongabba. On April 16,
              1861, she buried her 4½ year old child by her first
              husband.
         
              Angus Mathieson, who died March 11, 1872, aged 38,
              was a South Brisbane carpenter. On his grave is a
              ponderous stone, like the dome of a vault. 
         
              Next to him is a grave with four children named
              Laing, four little girls, Helen, Margaret, Ann and
              Elizabeth, aged 11, 13, 14 and 17 months, not one reaching
              two years of age. Three died in 1863, and one in 1873, so
              the first three must be the children of two mothers,
              unless two were twin. A cypress pine “Callitris Robusta,”
              evidently an old tree, has fallen between the two graves,
              and lies partly on the stone over Mathieson, with a branch
              over the little girls. The four dead children, the dead
              man, and the dead cypress! There is no more pathetic or
              mournful scene in the cemetery.
         
                Richard Sexton, who died on April 6, 1869, aged
                61, was a clerk of R. Towns and Co., and is represented
                today by a nephew in the Railway Survey Department.
There the traveller meets
                aghast,
Sheeted memories of the
                past;
Shrouded forms that start
                and sigh
As they pass the wandered
                by,
White robed forms of friends
                long given
In agony to the earth and
                heaven.
From the Methodists, we pass across a street, into the adjoining graveyard, occupied by all that is mortal of the Queensland Baptists of a bygone age.
         
              The name “Baptist” dates back to Thomas Munzer, of
              Storck, in Saxony, in the year 1621, nearly 400 years ago.
         
              History tells us that “he excited a rebellion of
              the lower orders in Germany, quelled in bloodshed in
              1525.” 
         
              Several other insurrections followed, all ending in
              blood, and finally from 1535 to 1540, a number of
              Anabaptists were executed in England. On January 6, 1661,
              about 100 of these peculiar people, led by Thomas Venner,
              a wine cask cooper, appeared in arms in London, and were
              only conquered after half of them were killed. They fought
              like devils, and killed a lot of soldiers. Sixteen of them
              were executed, including Venner. The Baptist published
              their Confession of Faith in 1643. In 1635, Rhode Island,
              in America, was settled entirely by Baptists, and today
              they are a peaceful, respectable and important body among
              the religious sects of Queensland.
         
              The warlike, death defying spirit of Venner, and
              his self devoted warriors has departed. The most
              remarkable modern Baptist preacher was Charles Haddon
              Spurgeon, who died at Mentone, in Italy, on January 31,
              1892.
         
              With this we pass into the Baptist section of the
              Paddington cemetery of Brisbane. It differs from the
              Methodist graveyard in appearance, by being surrounded
              with an old paling fence, which has locked gates, the key
              being held by a local resident, who has the privelege of
              grazing his cows among the tombstones.
         
              Byron says:
What matters where we fail to fill the maws
Of
                  worms? On battle field or listed spot,
Both
                  are but theatres, where the chief actors rot.”
         
              In Brisbane it matters not apparently where our
              dead are buried, for ultimately the moo cow crops the
              herbage around the tombstones and perfumed Capricornus
              regales himself with the bouquets left on the graves by
              bereaved relatives.
         
              In the Baptist area is the same neglect – general
              decay and wreckage and desolation. Fallen headstones,
              ruined railings, and broken fragments prove how brief is
              remembrance of the dead.
Here we have Mary, the first wife of Moses Ward, a once well known chemist. She died on May 21, 1872, aged 55, and Moses has since filled the vacuum in his soul with a fresh bride who brought him a substantial dowry. A good solid dowry dries a lot of tears. On her grave, the grief stricken Moses of 1872, has told us that:
“I would not have you ignorant brethren concerning them that are asleep;
that ye sorrow not, not even as others which have no hope;
for if ye believe that Jesus died, and rose again,
even so also them which are asleep in Jesus will God bring with him.”
       
              We make no attempt to explain this, as the human intellect
              is limited, and would be lost beyond redemption in an
              attempt to elucidate these intricate theological problems.
         
              Great men were living before Agamemnon, and there
              were “Badgers” in Brisbane before the autocrat of the
              tramways.
         
              Benjamin Badger died on November 18, 1874, aged 49,
              followed by his wife Ellen, on December 8, 1874, at the
              age of 50, and Joseph their son, on December 22, a
              fortnight after their mother.
         
              With these, the Badger family became extinct.
         
              Susan Elizabeth Warry and Edith May Warry were two
              children who died in 1864. Their father was C. S. Warry, a
              Brisbane and Ipswich chemist, brother of R. L. Warry, a
              once well known merchant, and T. S. Warry, who died as a
              bachelor. His two brothers are also dead.
         
              Eli Hallet, of Huddersfield, England, died on
              September 24, 1866, aged 28 years. His father was a
              butcher, and with J. and W. Orr, then butchers of South
              Brisbane.
         
              Benjamin William was the nine year old son of
              Thomas and Ruth Baker. The stone tells us that the boy was
              drowned, and also invites to “Come to be where Jesus
                is and see his smiling face.”
         
              Eliza Brady Atkins was a ten months child, who died
              on February 11, 1867, and William Bryant, from Tovil, in
              Kent, died at Kedron Brook on October 15, 1865.
         
              Agnes Lucy Blackford, who died on May 22, 1868, was
              the wife of William Blackford, a baker in the Valley.
         
              Emma Slater was the wife of Slater, a once
              prominent bookseller and stationer, who was the
              predecessor of Gordon and Gotch. She died on August 8,
              1865.
         
              Jane Orr, who died on March 15, 1863, at 58 years
              of age, was the wife of an old South Brisbane butcher of
              the firm of J. and W. Orr.
         
              Her daughter, Margaret, died on December 25, 1870,
              aged 23.
         
              One headstone merely tells us that Hannah Maria was
              the wife of Herbert Watson.
         
              John Cadbury died on May 28, 1866, aged 29.
         
              The next stone records the death on June 19, 1867,
              aged 64, of John Bale, who was the father of the once well
              known J. L. Bale, secretary of the Brisbane Building
              Society.
         
              Kate Spilsbury, who died on August 26, 1862, was
              the wife of an old Brisbane confectioner, the Compagnoni
              of his day.
         
              Joseph Street, who died in November 1867, aged 43,
              was the father of a family of robust good looking girls,
              who once kept a millinery and artificial flower shop in
              the William Street building now occupied by the
              Protectorate of Aboriginals. It was also once the office
              of that pious paper, the “Evangelical Standard,” of which
              Brentnall was one of the associate editors. One Miss
              Street married A. D. Douglas, afterwards Inspector of
              Police, and another married J. G. Drake, the ex-Federal
              Minister. Mrs. Douglas died recently and Douglas has gone
              to reside in London.
         
              Eleanor Ann, was the six months old baby of Emily
              Copeland, whose husband kept the Prince Consort Hotel, in
              the Valley. The child died in December, 1871.
         
              John Samuel Kingsford, who died on July 17, 1870,
              at the age of 22, leaving a young wife and infant son, was
              a son of the Rev. John Kingsford, a Baptist minister, and
              brother of R. A. Kingsford, once M.L.A. for South
              Brisbane, and for many years a resident of Cairns, where
              he was defeated at an election by F. T. Wimble. R. A. and
              John Kingsford were drapers in Queen Street, where their
              business was ruined by a disastrous fire. Then John took
              to preaching, but Richard Ash stuck to business and
              prospered.
         
              Thus ended “Truth’s” first epistle to the Baptists,
              and we leave that section with a feeling of sorrow, to
              find that the dead have been as much neglected as those of
              the Methodists and that the graves are in an equally
              disgraceful condition.
         
              We cross the tramline and look down from the
              embankment of the raised street at half a dozen
              headstones, which represent the Jewish cemetery. It
              appears that a number were removed to Toowong, and it
              would have spared any self respecting son of Israel many a
              blush had the others been removed, and all trace of the
              cemetery been obliterated. Presumably the Jews who sat
              down and wept by the rivers of Babylon, were compelled to
              gaze at a cemetery like that at Paddington. There is not
              even a fence, nor any railings. The wandering Jew, in all
              his peregrinations, never saw anything like that. We
              cannot picture any Hebrew passing that spot and not
              fainting with shame. As usual in Jewish cemeteries, the
              stones bear inscriptions in both Hebrew and English. One
              records the death of “Aelcey,” the wife of Coleman Davis,
              who died on May 13, 1876, aged 36. The Jewish year is
              given as 3685. Coleman Davis was a well known man who kept
              a toy shop called the “Civet Cat” in Queen Street.
         
              Osias Loewe died on December 10, 1872, aged 43. On
              the headstone is an arm with a hand pouring water out of a
              pitcher into a broken basin. One of Loewe’s daughters
              married Isaac Markwell and became the mother of a man who
              was drowned in his bath at Wooloowin, under circumstances
              which evolved a remarkable lawsuit. Another daughter
              married the manager of one of our banks.
         
              Herbert Michael, son of Lawrence Levy, died at the
              age of 27, on November 20, 1871. He was clerk with A. E.
              Alexander a well known auctioneer of that period.
         
              We leave this desolate and forlorn Jewish cemetery
              with a series of sighs to express our emotions, for
              language is not equal to the occasion.
         
              Then we obtain the key of the Presbyterian area and
              ramble into a wilderness of lantana which requires a scrub
              knife before we can read the inscriptions. Here we find a
              superior class of headstones and monuments, with much
              clearer inscriptions, but all the higher ground is covered
              with lantana, and many headstones are nearly invisible.
              George Christie died on March 16, 1857, aged 36, his
              daughter Sarah Ogilvie having died on April 27, 1856, aged
              3, and his brother on February 12 in the same year. George
              Christie was manager of a store at the corner of Russell
              and Grey Streets, in South Brisbane. The store belonged to
              old Bobby Towns and Co., and Christie was their
              representative.
         
              John Moffit was a teamster who died in January
              1861, aged 38, and his mother Margaret died in December
              1860, aged 68. They had a daughter Minnie who married
              Daniel Cahill, and she is now an elderly widow residing at
              Peachester. One of her children, a boy, aged two and a
              half, died on April 10, 1871, and is buried beside his
              grandparents. The grandmother, Margaret, once lived near
              Colinton, and while there had an adventure with the
              blacks.
         
              One of her sons was in the house seriously ill, and
              his father had gone away for assistance, leaving only
              herself and the dying boy. The blacks had seen Moffit
              leave, and thought it a fair time to raid the house, and
              probably kill Mrs. Moffit. But she was equal to the
              occasion. She dressed herself in Moffit’s clothes, walked
              round the house, went inside, and came out again with
              another suit on. She did this lightning change artist
              business so neatly that the blacks thought there were
              three or four men in the house, and retired. This presence
              of men probably averted a tragedy.
         
              A remarkable man was James Low, who was born on
              January 4, 1791 in Scotland, and died at Brisbane on
              September 24, 1871. His wife, Isabella, died at “Newmill
              on Drumoak”  in
              Aberdeenshire on October 29, 1823. A son died there also,
              aged 11.  A
              daughter, Catherine, married to Charles Smith, died at
              Brisbane on December 8, 1853, and a son, aged 19, died on
              September 2, 1851. His daughter, Annie, married Rudolph
              Zillman, son of J. L. Zillman, of German station, one of
              the original German missionaries, sent to Moreton Bay by
              Dr. Lang in the convict days. James Low was a very well
              known timber getter in the Maroochy and Mooloolah
              districts, and his name is handed down to posterity,
              attached to the tree known to both timber getters and
              botanists, as “Jimmy Low,” the botanical name being
              “Eucalyptus Resinifera.”
Mary Foran, wife of Edmund Mellor, died on January 17, 1859, aged 26, and in the same grave are her two children, one a month old, and the other a year and a half, John and Agatha. On the stone is
“They are gone to the grave,
we no longer behold them;
whose God was their ransom,
their guarantee and guide.
He gave the. He took them,
and He will restore them
and death was no sting for their Savior who died.”
This
              is the usual enigmatical epitaph which baffles all human
              comprehension.
         
              Edmund Mellor was a well known man, who for many
              years was captain of the old stern wheel steamer, Settler,
              which ran between Brisbane and Ipswich. His second wife
              was a Miss Duncan, whose daughter is the Eva Mellor of
              today, whose stately and statuesque figure is occasionally
              familiar in Queensland. The dark eyed Juna, this “daughter
              of the gods, divinely tall,” stands six foot two, and is
              probably therefore the tallest woman in Queensland. One of
              her mother’s sisters was married to John Stewart, an old
              pioneer veteran, who died a year ago on the Pine River. He
              was a father of the late Miss Stewart, of Brisbane. A
              brother of Mrs. Mellor, Charles Duncan, is a well known
              storekeeper at Laidley. He was the first man that took a
              dray from Maryborough to Gympie, when that field was
              discovered.
         
              James Powers died on August 20, 1854, leaving a
              wife and four children, one of whom in the present day is
              the well known Charlie Powers, who was Postmaster General
              in the Morehead Ministry, 1889 – 1890.
         
              Robert Mauley died on February 24, 1855, aged 25,
              the son of a cabinet maker in Elizabeth Street, half a
              century ago.
         
              Alice, the wife of Matthew Henry, died at 23, on
              August 11, 1851. The stone speaks for the husband “who
              loved her during life, mourned her death, and revere her
              memory.” Beneath that “Blessed are the dead who die in the
              Lord, Amen.”
         
              David Muir, a shipwright of that time, erected a
              stone over his two children, one 4 years, one born and
              died on the same day, October 24, 1863.
         
              Kate Pringle, a niece of Tom Finney, died on July
              21, 1864, aged 24, one of the appalling number of young
              girls cut off ultimately in their youth. Tom Finney’s
              first wife was a Miss Pringle, who lived only for a few
              months. His second wife was a Miss Jackson, and the third
              is the present widow who survives him. Very few people
              know that Tom was married three times.
         
                A Catherine Jolly, who died, aged 28, on August
                27, 1863, was daughter of the Rev Thomas Jolly, of
                Roxburghshire, in Scotland.
“Where are the Kings, and where the rest,
Of those who once the world possessed?”
         
              In the centre of all the Paddington cemeteries
              stands that devoted to the Roman Catholics of a past
              generation.
         
              It is said to be still the only Catholic cemetery
              consecrated in Queensland. This means that it was all
              consecrated at one time. The usual custom is to consecrate
              each new grave. The ceremony was performed in the year
              1858, by Archbishop Polding, of Sydney, one of the
              earliest and ablest of the Roman Catholic prelates in
              Australian history. The ceremony was solemn and
              impressive, and there was a great gathering of the
              Catholic people. The cemetery in those days was merely a
              patch of ordinary forest, covered by coarse grass, bushes
              and trees. The Archbishop’s gold Pectoral Cross fell off
              his breast into the grass, and no one saw it fall. When
              the loss was discovered, they searched for it in vain. An
              advertisement appeared in the “Courier” offering £5
              reward, but there was no response. The cross was regarded
              as lost beyond recall, and superstitious people considered
              the loss an evil omen for the new cemetery. No finder
              appeared, and no emaciated, conscience stricken wallaby
              hopped along with it as did the jackdaw of Rheims with the
              Cardinal’s ring.
         
              Then came a remarkable series of events. A man,
              whose name is forgotten, came out as an emigrant cook, on
              board a vessel called the Alfred. He was one of the
              spectators at the consecration of the cemetery. A few
              weeks afterwards, whilst on board the steamer, Bredalbane,
              at the present Queen’s Wharf, he fell overboard and
              drowned. When the authorities opened his clothing box,
              there, lo and behold, lying on top, was the Archbishop’s
              lost cross. He had known it was a valuable article of
              solid gold, and was waiting to get a bigger price than the
              £5 reward. Of course, every good Catholic firmly believed
              that God had drowned that man for his sacrilegious
              appropriation of the cross! There must be a divine
              judgment in such cases. We can recall a man who stole a
              priest’s horse, and three months afterwards he became a
              member of the Queensland Parliament. This shows that no
              man can appropriate sacred property without some awful
              fate overtaking him.
         
              We were on a visit to Cunnamulla seven years ago,
              when some impious ruffian stole £3 /15 s out of Father
              O’Sullivan’s room in the Catholic Church. The genial
              priest assured us that the man would most certainly be
              struck down by lightning.
         
              But that is a digression. There were many graves in
              the catholic cemetery before it was consecrated by
              Archbishop Polding. ..(text missing) ...chapter of
              information for his book on “The Early Days. The husband
              of the girl wife, Mary Ann Gorman, married again, and
              still resides in Brisbane, where he keeps a store in
              Boundary Street.
         
              Louis Schneider was a saddler who died on April 27,
              1868, aged 30. His widow, Maria Jane, afterwards married
              Joseph Baines, and became Mayoress of Brisbane. When
              Baines died she married a contractor named Ryan, who built
              the Roman Catholic Church at Kangaroo Point and the Palace
              Hotel at South Brisbane. The lady had then s German, an
              English, and an Irish husband. Perhaps she was solving
              some great ethnological problem, or was like the Irish
              bigamist who was proved to have married six wives, and
              explained to the judge that “he was merely trying to get a
              good one!” She is still in robust health, drives out
              daily, and owns the Pineapple Hotel.
         
              Mrs. Sybella Clune died in Margaret Street on June
              11, 1863. The headstone was erected by her only surviving
              daughter, a Mrs. Cameron, who was afterwards lost in the
              Fiery Star, which was burned at sea on Good Friday. Thomas
              M. Clune died on April 10, 1853, aged 27, and the stone
              was erected by his sister.
         
              John McCabe, who died in 1861, aged 53, was one of
              the leading merchants of that time, and also owned a
              number of teams. He also owned Queen’s Wharf, and a large
              area of South Brisbane. His store was in George Street, at
              the corner of Charlotte Street, opposite the old “Courier”
              office John McCabe and Jeremiah Daly were great chums, and
              in their many visits to hotel parlors, McCabe’s toast was,
              “Here’s to oor ainsells, and whaur will you get the like
              of us?” It is clear from this that McCabe was a Scot. His
              toast was like the Highlanders’ prayer, “Lord, send us a
              guid conceit o’ oorsels!” Of the Daly family we have much
              to say in a future article.
            Sarah Jones who
              died on October 10, 1867, aged 49, was the wife of John
              Jones, who kept the St. Patrick’s Tavern in Queen Street,
              where Tronson’s shop is today. Old residents speak of her
              as a fine specimen of a woman, and a great favourite.
         
              Two children, one two years and the other four
              months, died on December 3, 1864. Their parents were the
              once well known Mr. And Mrs. Darragh of Kangaroo Point, an
              old time honored family, for many years in the butchering
              and hotel trades at the Point.
         
              Catherine Sneyd, who died aged 46, on July 23,
              1858, was the wife of Samuel Sneyd, the first chief
              constable and jailer in Brisbane. He was a Baptist and she
              was a Roman Catholic. On the day of her funeral the
              service was to be conducted by the Rev. Dean Signey who
              waited at the grave for an hour after the appointed time,
              and then went home. When the coffin arrived, the service
              had to be read by a layman, and much strong feeling was
              shown for some times afterwards through the absence of a
              qualified priest. Mrs. Sneyd had nine children and on her
              grave is this verse:
“’Tis religion that can give
Sweetest pleasure while we
                live,
‘Tis religion must supply,
Solid comfort when we die.”
The
              Sneyds lived in a house in Adelaide Street between the
              present Parcels Post and Finney Isles corner, where was
              the first bougainvillea vine ever grown in Queensland.
         
              A few readers will remember a wild young Irishman
              named James McGowan who had a farm at Lytton and was
              killed off his horse on February 18, 1875, aged 29. There
              was nothing McGowan loved but a fight. He was always “blue
              moulded for want of a ” and would offer cheerfully
              offer to fight all hands, anywhere, at any time. On one
              occasion he took possession of a Methodist Church, and
              challenged the whole male congregation to mortal combat.
              The Methodists regarded James as a man possessed of
              devils, and fled. He was a fine type of fighting Irishman,
              and we mourn over the grave of that young warrior cut off
              untimely in his youth. We miss these fiery spirits at the
              peaceful elections of today. His sister, now dead, married
              Adam Fiebig, who still owns the old Crown hotel in George
              Street. Fiebig still has a great veneration for his dead
              wife. 
         
              James Cash, who died on December 15, 1870, aged 68,
              was an old pioneer who was farming and timber getting at
              the Pine River, where “Cash’s Crossing” is still a
              landmark in the district.
         
              In the same grave is Mary McQuinney, his wife’s
              mother, who died on May 20, 1870, and his daughter Mary
              Ann, wife of Pat Hughes, who died on November 23, 1872,
              aged only 21. An appalling number of young wives, under 26
              years of age, died in those early days, apparently from
              bad nursing, bad medical attendance, or no attendance at
              all. Ignorant midwives have filled many graves.
         
              Under one stone is Patrick Mooney, a Tipperary man,
              who died on September 20, 1851, aged 51, also his eldest
              daughter Mary Scanlan, who died on April 6, 1873, aged 40,
              and James Mooney, his eldest son, who died on August 31,
              1873, aged 44. Mooney was a fine specimen of a man, six
              feet four, who kept a hotel at the corner of Russell and
              Stanley Streets, South Brisbane. Mary Scanlan was the wife
              of Jeremiah Scanlan, who kept the Queensland Hotel in
              Edward Street, about 25 yards below the present
              Metropolitan, then kept by Mrs. Duncan. Jerry was an old
              policeman from New South Wales. He did well in Brisbane,
              and owned both the Queensland and Metropolitan hotels.
              Opposite Jerry was the once fashionable Menzies
              boarding-house, which still stands there, but the Menzies
              are both dead. One daughter married Thomas Bryce, of the
              Carrying Company, and another married West, the merchant,
              of Townsville. One of Jerry’s nieces, a Miss Cuneen,
              married Ferdinand Papi, an Italian, the present head
              teacher of the Woolloongabba State School, and became
              mother of Bertram Papa, the lawyer, and the fair Amy Papi,
              a name known in the social columns.
         
              A Daniel Tracey, who died on October 4, 1853, aged
              55, and his widow Catherine on September 3, 1871, were a
              couple of fine people who lived in Margaret Street, and
              their daughters, very handsome girls, all died young. One
              daughter, Mrs. Brown, died on October 20, 1866, aged 30,
              and Ann on November 30, 1869 aged 22. The stone over the
              grave was erected by the daughter Bridget, “in
              affectionate remembrance of her dear parents and sisters.”
              She, too, had only a short life.
         
              Alice Higham, (pronounced Hyam), who died on August
              8, 1872, at the age of 80, was the wife of Higham, who was
              a timber getter on the Tweed River in the early days. They
              both came out in Governor Darling’s time. She was a grand
              old woman, the soul of honesty and hospitality.
         
              Christopher Weir, who died on July 23, 1873, aged
              61, was a cabman who once kept a hotel out beyond the
              Hospital, on the Bowen Bridge Road. Michael Weir also kept
              the same hotel. It was a great resort of the young bloods
              of those days, and many a lively scene was enacted in that
              now forgotten house, which has long ceased to exist.
         
              We find that another cabman, still alive, the well
              known Jack Sweeney, of the George Street stand, buried his
              young wife Catherine, aged 25, and her infant son, on July
              24, 1869. Sweeney was once a very smart policeman
              stationed at the Towers, Ravenswood, and Cooktown.
         
              Honora Thomas placed a stone over her husband, John
              Thomas, who died on April 3, 1864. They kept an hotel in
              Queen Street, where Alexander Stewart and Sons’ warehouse
              stands today. The same house was kept as the “Donnybrook
              Hotel” by a Mat Stewart, a very unusual name in hotel
              keeping. On the grave of Thomas we find:
“Not lost, not lost, but
                gone before,
To that land of peace and
                rest,
Where in God for evermore,
We hope to meet together
                blest.”
         
              Widows as a rule, lack a sense of logic, or they
              would not so often consign their departed husbands to
              where they apparently meet with peace and rest for the
              first time. In this case, too, the poetry is deplorably
              defective. It is the kind of verse that is composed in a
              hurry while you wait.
         
              Margaret, wife of Thomas Faulkner, died on January
              18, 1869, aged 41. One of her grand daughters is the wife
              of Under Secretary Brady, of the Works Department.
         
              There is a handsome stone over the grave of Francis
              Murphy, who died on August 15, 1872, but so far no
              information  concerning
              him is available.
         
              There is one peculiar inscription over the grave of
              a young wife, named Janet Murphy, who was born at Grafton
              on April 3, 1853, and died at Brisbane on November
              18,8172. She was thus only 17 years and eight months old,
              and the stone says:
“A loving wife, a mother
                dear,
A faithful friend lies
                buried here,
Our loss is great which we
                sustain,
In Heaven we hope to meet
                again.”
         
              There is said to have been a John Murphy for many
              years a messenger in the Lands Office, where he was
              succeeded by Gamble. Janet was the wife of a John Murphy.
         
              An old military warrior is represented by Patrick
              John Burke, of the 56th Queen’s Own Regiment.
              He died on March 17, 1867, aged 80 years. Doubtless he did
              some hard fighting in that in that famous old regiment.
         
              Robert Eaton, who died on December 2, 1861, aged
              62, was a compositor on the “Courier,” at the corner of
              Charlotte and George Streets. The old office is now a
              boarding-house. What ghosts of old compositors must
              meander in silence through the rooms when all the boarders
              are asleep! Eaton’s mother followed him to the grave on
              April 2, 1874, aged 74. Remarkable is the number of those
              whose age is the same as the year of their death.
         
              Joseph Brown, who died on January 29, 1868, aged
              only 33, was a drayman, and “a good, true man,” as an old
              colonist describes him, who lived out at Teneriffe.
         
              John Ede buried a child aged five on January 14,
              1851. Ede was a watchman in Queen Street. One son, Willie
              Ede, is today a cabman at the Central Station, and one is
              a vanman.
         
              Ellen Lonergan, who died on November 27, 1870, aged
              25 (another at the fatal age), was wife of John Lonergan,
              still a drayman in the Valley. His second wife was a Miss
              McIver, sister of McIver, a well known blacksmith in the
              Valley today.
Ellen Reilly, who died on September 16, 1855, at the fatal 25 years, was wife of Patrick Lonergan, an old time sailor, who lived in Albert Street in the period when its reputation was much cleaner than it is today.
“He came, he went, like the
                Simoom,
That harbinger of fate and
                gloom,
Beneath whose widely wasting
                breath,
The very cypress droops to
                death,
Dark tree, still sad when
                others grief has fled,
The only constant mourner
                o’er the dead.”
         
              Those unhappy types of men and women who rise in
              the night to take a dose of medicine, and make the deadly
              mistake of selecting the wrong bottle, are represented by
              John Guilfoyle, who died on January 24, 1874, aged 27. He
              was a compositor at the Government Printing Office, and
              the headstone informs us that it is “ a tribute of respect
              to his memory by the men of the Government Printing
              Office.” He was only a young man, but was married, and his
              four year old son had died on March 8, 1871. The father of
              John died on November 7, 1858, aged 41. He was a
              quarryman, who worked on the old Kangaroo Point quarry,
              where the Naval Stores are today. The son who died had
              risen from sleep, and instead of a bottle of medicine
              prescribed by Dr. Bell, he got a bottle of carbolic acid,
              drank some before the dreadful mistake was discovered, and
              died a cruel death.
         
              Even doctors fall victims to these fatal errors.
              Some readers will remember Dr. Clark, who once practised
              in Stanthorpe. He went to live in a New South Wales town,
              we believe it was Gulgong, and one night he rose to get
              some medicine, took the wrong bottle, and when his wife
              awoke in the morning, he was lying dead beside her.
         
              A John Meillon, who died on August 1, 1862, had a
              brother Joseph Meillon, who was educated as a lawyer and
              in 1869, went to practice at Grafton on the Clarence
              River, the other lawyer being George Foott, who had
              succeeded James Lionel Michael, a well known literary man
              who was drowned in front of his on house. Henry Kendall,
              the poet, was a clerk in Michael’s office. Foott’s wife,
              his second wife, was the widow of Boulanger, a name known
              to the music world as a brilliant composer.
         
              Sarah Jones, who died on October 10, 1867, aged 40,
              was the wife of John Jones, who kept St. Patrick’s Tavern,
              in Queen Street.
         
              There is a neat stone over Francis Murray, who died
              on August 15, 1873, aged 37. He had a cabinet makers shop
              in Queen Street, next to Paddy Mayne’s butcher’s shop,
              which stood on the present site of the British Empire
              Hotel. Beside Murray are his two girl children, Isabella
              Jane, died June 23, 1870, and Annie Maria died October 23,
              1873, one three and one sixteen months. Murray was once
              Mayor of Brisbane, was also fairly well to do in cash, and
              advanced a considerable sum to Sir Maurice O’Connell, who
              was unable to repay it and the Government had to overcome
              the difficulty with a special appropriation.
         
              Paddy Mayne died in the backroom of that Queen
              Street butcher’s shop, and Bishop O’Quinn and Joe Darragh,
              who was a cousin of the Bishop, were with him when his
              will was being made. Mrs. Mayne was supposed to be a
              Protestant, and Mayne had a big powerful coachman, also a
              Protestant. When the will was being made, Mrs. Mayne
              suspected that she was not receiving due consideration,
              and she sent the coachman in to remove the Bishop and
              Darragh, and removed they were. However she had no reason
              to complain of her share in the will. She afterwards gave
              the coachman a farm at Moggill, and conferred an annuity
              on Tom Slaughter, the accountant. Both Mayne and his wife
              were very good hearted liberal people, who did many
              generous acts. It is a shame that Paddy had to confess to
              a murder at Kangaroo Point, in his early days, for which
              an innocent man was hung- the death bed confession haunted
              his family to their graves. Mrs. Mayne was a fine specimen
              of a woman, and an excellent wife and mother. She is said
              to have sent for a priest when dying, and to have admitted
              that she was a Catholic.
         
              Near to the grave of Mayor Murray, is that of
              Elizabeth Baines, first wife of another Mayor, the E. J.
              Baines of a previous article. She died on March 3, 1863,
              aged 39.
         
              A boy named William Costelloe, who died on May 11,
              1861, aged 15, was the son of a man who had held a high
              position in the Inland Customs’ Revenue Department of
              Ireland.
         
              Eliza Quinn, widow of James Quinn, kept a hotel at
              German Station. Quinn was formerly a clerk with George
              Edmonstone, one of whose daughters married John Markwell.
              Edmonstone was a Queen Street butcher, a genial, amiable,
              old gentleman, who became a member of Parliament. The
              present writer had many a chat with him from 1875 to 1877.
         
              On January 1, 1865, D. H. O’Leary buried his infant
              son Daniel Michael. Daniel senior was a son of Tom
              O’Leary, the father of Jack O’Leary, for years clerk of
              the Cairns Divisional Board, and now Traffic Manager on
              the Musgrave Tramway Company’s line from Cairns to
              Harvey’s Creek, on the Russell River. Jack’s mother, a
              dear old lady is still alive and well, and a regular
              attendant at the Catholic Church in Brisbane. The O’Leary
              family were mostly brunettes and Jack, as every Cairns man
              knows, has a decidedly auburn tinge in his hair.
         
              Catherine Queely, who died on January 5, 1865, aged
              16, was the daughter of a shoemaker who came over from New
              South Wales, and opened a shop in Albert Street, a few
              doors from Queen Street. The daughter was a fine specimen
              of a girl, and her death from typhoid fever nearly broke
              Queely’s heart. A brother of Queely was killed out on the
              Dawson on the same day as the 19 people were killed by
              aboriginal attack on Horatio Wills’ Cullen-La-ringo
              Station, on the Nogoa, October 17, 1861. We have stood
              over the mass grave in which 16 of the 19 were buried.
         
              In four fragments is the stone that stood over the
              grave of Kate Agnes Hickey, who died on October 28, 1863.
              Hickey was a resident of the Valley.
         
              Richard Belford, who died on April 28, 1865, was
              once editor of the “Courier,”, and afterwards editor of
              the “North Australian,” the leading paper in Ipswich of
              the early days. Bishop O’Quinn brought that paper to
              Brisbane, and it is represented by the Catholic paper,
              “Australian” of the present day.
         
              Daniel Lyons, who died in 1865, aged 60, was father
              of Daniel Lyons, a saddler in Turbot Street in the early
              days, and brother of James Mooney, a hotelkeeper in South
              Brisbane, one of whose sisters became the wife of J. M.
              O’Keefe, ex-M.L.A., for the Lockyer, a man likely to bound
              into the aroma with a wild Hibernian war cry at any
              moment.
         
              John Ahearn erected a neat stone over the grave of
              his brother Denis Ahearn, a native of Donickmore, County
              Cork, who died on February 12, 1875, aged 32, the fatal
              age of the Ahearn families, as three of the men died at
              that age.
         
              When Camille Desmoulins, of the French Revolution,
              was before the revolutionary tribunal, and asked his name,
              he replied, “I am the age of the ‘bon sans culotte,’
              Jesus" – an age fatal to revolutionists!”
         
              Apparently the age of 32 was as fatal to the
              Ahearns as 37 to the French patriots. These Ahearns, who
              were carpenters, finally left for California. The Ahearn
              family mentioned in the last article are still
              represented. Two of the girls married two of the brothers
              of Cahill, the present Commissioner of Police, and both of
              the brothers died. The widow of one is now the wife of the
              well known and popular hotelkeeper Denis O’Connor, who has
              given his name to “O’Connor Boatshed,” and is an
              enthusiast in rowing and other athletic circles. A brother
              of the sisters is now on Charters Towers.
         
              The J. W. Buxton who once had a stationery and
              fancy goods shop in Queen Street, and whose wife died on
              January 21, 1867, was a man of considerable means. He
              became infatuated with an actress, and fled away with her,
              leaving a very fine wife, who was immeasurably the
              superior of the actress in physique, intelligence and
              character. Why a man sometimes deserts a splendid woman
              for a worthless specimen, or a woman forsakes a splendid
              man for a contemptible weed, are two conundrums beyond the
              reach of human intelligence.
         
              Jessie Lamont, a widow, died on April 3, 1866, aged
              51.
         
              The stone records:
“Take comfort Christians
                when your friends,
In Jesus fall asleep,
Their better being never
                ends,
Why then dejected weep?
Why inconsolable as those
To whom no hope is given?
Death is the messenger of
                peace,
And calls the soul to
                Heaven.”
         
              One of the daughters, Marion Flora, died on May 23,
              1873, aged only 29. She was the wife of James Chapman,
              father of Ebenezer Chapman, now a builder in Fortitude
              Valley. Jessie Lamont lies in the Presbyterian ground,
              near to Margaret Elizabeth Bethune, wife of David Lachlan
              Brown, head of the firm of D. L. Brown and Co. He died not
              long ago in Toowoomba, and his first wife died on April
              29, 1869, aged 33, at “Langlee Bank,” Bowen Bridge Road.
              The stone says:
“Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
His
              second wife, still living, was a daughter of the Rev.
              George Wight, once Immigration Lecturer. 
         
              George Lindsay, described as “son of the late
              George Lindsay, of Aberdeen,” died on April 20, 1873. He
              was an elderly man, confidential clerk to John Bourne, who
              built the Brisbane bridge of 1873.
         
              Lindsay died in the year the bridge was opened.
              There was a great demonstration at the opening, and Dr.
              Carr Boyd wrote a long celebration poem in the “Courier,”
              over the “nom de plume” of “Ralph de Peverial.”  Boyd is
              represented today by his youngest son, Gerald, who is in
              the Lands Office, and the second son, known to the press
              as “Potjostler,” is in West Australia. The eldest son
              David was a surveyor. His widow is wife of the present Dr.
              Brown of Rockhampton. She was one of several sisters, all
              handsome women, daughters of a Mr. Ransome who was once
              C.P.S. at Goodna, and lived at Little Ipswich.
         
              The Jeremiah Daly referred to before as a chum of
              merchant John McCabe, was father of the once well known
              barrister and Crown Prosecutor, Tom Daly, one of whose
              sisters was Judge Miller’s first wife. Another married the
              Hon. Sydney Dick Melbourne, and one married a son of
              Christopher Newton, head of the Sydney firm of that name.
              They were all fine looking women.
         
              Buried somewhere in the catholic cemetery is a man
              named Barrett, who died in 1867. Barrett had come out in
              the last convict ship, which landed him at Sydney in 1840.
              That ship was called the “Eden,” a facetious name for a
              convict vessel. Barrett had revealed a conspiracy on
              board, and as a reward he received a reprieve. After five
              years in Sydney and Illawarra, he came to Moreton Bay, and
              joined a party of timber getters on the Tweed. One of the
              party was a man named Robert Cox, a victim of one of the
              most notorious murders in Queensland history.
         
              Cox and Barrett came to Brisbane on a visit in
              March 1848, and stayed at Sutton’s Bush Commercial Hotel.
              On Kangaroo Point, corner of Holman and Main Streets.
         
              On Sunday night, March 26, Cox was murdered under
              diabolical circumstances. His body was cut up and his head
              cut off. The head was found by a dog, in a baker’s new
              oven, in a building erected for John Campbell, father of
              the present Amity Point Campbell. A man named George
              Cummins found the trunk of the body on the mud foreshore
              of the river, where it was left by the retreating tide.
              Parts of the body and three shirts, soaked with blood,
              were found in a well. The cook at Sutton’s Hotel was a man
              named William Fyfe, who was a friend of Cox, who was
              staying with another friend, named Moseley. Fyfe and
              Moseley, and a butcher named Lynch, were arrested, but the
              final proceedings were taken against Fyfe only. The
              enquiry lasted five days, and some remarkable evidence was
              given, all reported in the “Courier” of that date. Fyfe
              was committed for trial, sent to Sydney, tried and found
              guilty, and hanged, protesting his innocence to the last.
         
              He had written a long speech for the scaffold, but
              was not allowed to deliver it, but the public heard it
              afterwards.
         
                This atrocious crime is introduced for this
                reason. Twenty years ago, in North Queensland, the
                present writer met a son of Barrett, and heard the whole
                of his father’s story of the crime, as told to the son.
                It is quite different from anything so far published.
                Barrett’s story was that Cox, and three others, well
                known men then  Patrick Mayne included, and long
                after, were sitting drinking and card playing in
                Sutton’s hotel, when a row started between Cox and one
                of the others, who picked up one of the old heavy brass
                box snuffers, with the projecting sharp point to adjust
                the wick. He threw this at Cox, and it struck him on the
                temple, and the sharp point entering the brain and
                killing him. There was no murder intended by anybody,
                but worse than murder followed. The other three men in
                terror of the consequences, at once conspired to put the
                guilt on Fyfe, who was not even in the hotel. He was
                over in North Brisbane, and did not return until nearly
                daylight. But the apparent evidences of guilt were woven
                around him with such devilish ingenuity, supported by
                the evidence of the three conspirators, and the female
                relations of one of them, and that of two others secured
                by special inducement, that Cox had enough against him
                to send any man to the gallows. And two of the
                conspirators were in Sydney and saw the innocent man
                hanged. Such was the tale told by that Barrett who
                sleeps there in the silence of the Paddington cemetery.
Peccavirrus!
                But rave not thus
And
                let a Sabbath song
Go
                up to God so solemnly;
The
                dead may feel no wrong,
The
                sweet Lenore hath gone before,
With
                hope, that flew beside,
Leaving
                thee wild for the dear child,
Who
                should have been thy bride,
For
                her the fair and debonaire,
Who
                now so lowly lies
 The life upon
                her yellow hair,
And
                death upon her eyes;
The
                life still there upon her hair,
And
                death within her yes.
-        
              Edgar Allan Poe’s “Lenore.”
The
              Church of England cemetery is on the slope of a ridge, on
              the south side of the Paddington cemeteries, enclosed with
              a paling fence, in a fair state of preservation. So far as
              examined the oldest grave dates back to 1847, when Samuel
              Henry Copperthwaite was buried, on May 27. The most recent
              graves are dated in 1875, so apparently all funerals after
              that went to Toowong. Except on three or four graves the
              lantana has been kept out, and the ground is  clear. But
              there is the same dismal spectacle of fallen and leaning
              and broken stones, as in the other cemeteries. Evidently
              grass fires have killed some of the trees. Among those
              that remain are a few that date back to the start. There
              is a silky oak at least three feet in diameter, and a fine
              grey ironbark very little less. The others are Moreton Bay
              ash, blue gum, cypress pine, and a few figs. The old road
              winding through the ground is still clearly defined,
              though unused for over thirty years. What a long line of
              hearses and sad processions passed along that road, in the
              vanished years that saw so many “white robed forms of
              friends long given, in agony to the earth and heaven.”
              There must be thousands of dead in that graveyard, since
              the burial of Miss Hill, Walter Hill’s daughter, in the
              Toowong cemetery in 1871 up to the present day, that
              graveyard has received 29,600 dead, representing a period
              of 26 years. At Paddington, the Church of England ground
              received bodies for 28 years. The graves are in rows over
              the whole area, probably not more than one in fifty with a
              headstone. Conspicuous here, as in other cemeteries, is
              the small number of old people, the great number of
              children, and young men and young women. The great
              majority are under 40.
         
              On entering the gate, the eye is caught at once by
              three graves that call back many historic memories. A blue
              granite eight foot high monolith, the Egyptian symbol of
              the Supreme God, stands on the grave of Arthur Stuart
              Bernays, the eight month old child of Lewis Adolphus and
              Mary Bernays. This child died on May 16, 1865, or 42 years
              ago. The fact is recorded on a square of marble screwed on
              near the top of the monolith, which is a miniature of that
              Cleopatra’s Needle that stands 68½ feet high and weighs
              over 185 tons. As that was sculptured more than 1500 years
              before Cleopatra was born, it is not clear why it bears
              her name.  Bernays,
              the father of that child of 1865, is the present Clerk of
              the Assembly, a position he has held since the first
              Parliament of Queensland opened, in the old convict built
              stone building in Queen Street, afterwards the Supreme
              Court. 
         
              We may marvel at the fact the L. A. Bernays has
              seen all our Governments and their supporters come and go,
              and sat and listened to their oratory – and is still
              alive! He is probably immortal and will be sitting in the
              house a thousand years hence.
         
              Close to the gate is one of the neatest and best
              kept tombs in the cemetery. It bears the name of Medora
              Ann Little, who died on February 27, 1872, aged 37. The
              Spanish name of Medora was probably taken from the Medora
              of Byron’s “Corsair.” Mrs. Little was the wife of the once
              well known Crown Solicitor, Little, who tells us on the
              tomb that:
“Her
                children rise up and called her blessed,
Her
                husband also and he praiseth her.”
We
              cannot improve on those old eulogiums of the Hebrew
              prophets. They were eloquent and expressive. Contrast this
              zenith of epitaph with the nadir on that of the gravestone
              in Massachusetts, USA:
“Sacred
                to the memory of Anthony Drake,
Who
                died for peace and quietness sake,
His
                wife was constantly scoldin’ and scoffin’,
So
                he sought for repose in a twelve dollar coffin.”
Or we
              may go to a graveyard in classic Cambridge, and find the
              following:
“Here
                lies the body of Mary Gwynne,
Who
                was so very pure within,
She
                cracked the shell of her earthly skin,
And
                hatched herself a cherubim.”
It is
              remarkable that the British race, in Britain and America,
              is responsible for the most ridiculous epitaphs on record.
              No other race appears to have placed puns or sarcasms on
              the graves of the dead. Who but a Yankee would record this
              on a gravestone in Iowa:
“beneath
                this stone our baby lies,
He
                neither cries nor hollers,
He
                lived for one and forty days,
And
                cost us forty dollars.”
And we
              go to a grave in Cheltenham for a specimen of what the
              rustic chaw-bacon of England could do on a headstone:
“Here
                lies I and my two daughters,
Killed
                by drinking Cheltenham waters;
If
                we had stuck to Epsom Salts,
We
                shouldn’t be lying in these vaults.”
No
              such epitaphs are possible on an Australian tombstone.
              Such a stone would be capsized, or smashed, as being an
              insult to the dead.
         
              After this digression, we return to an iron railing
              enclosing two remarkable pioneers, prominent in early
              Queensland. These graves have also been well kept. Here
              lies Richard Jones, M.L.C., of Sydney, who died on
              November 6, 1852, aged 70. He was known to the public of
              that time as “Merchant Jones,” a man who invested a lot of
              capital in squatting in the first years of the Darling
              Downs. The first sheep that ever came over the range,
              belonged to Jones. They were brought through Cunningham’s
              Gap, in 1842, by a man named Summerville, who was
              Superintendent for Jones. He took up Tenthill and Helidon
              stations, and put the sheep there. Another superintendent
              named Rogers, at the same time took up Grantham station,
              and took there a flock of sheep owned by George Mocatta,
              who took up Innes Plains on the Logan.
         
              Writing in 1876, John Campbell, who took up
              Westbrook in 1842, said, “I had resided for some months
              very quietly on the Downs (1842), intent on getting my
              cattle broken into their runs, when I was one day
              astonished at hearing a French horn being blown, and
              looking out over the plain (Westbrook) saw a single
              horseman approaching. Upon coming up he proved to be Mr.
              Summerville, the superintendent for Mr. Richard Jones,
              whose stock it appeared was on its way to what is now
              Helidon station.”
         
              That is the Richard Jones whose last sleep is in
              the Paddington cemetery.
         
              Buried beside him is John Stephen Ferriter, who
              died on October 21, 1865, aged 63, another squatter of the
              early days. Ferriter and Uhr were partners. One of these
              Uhrs was once Sergeant-at-Arms in the Assembly. John Uhr
              was killed by the blacks at Sandy Creek, near Gatton.
              Other Uhrs were officers in the native police, and well
              known in the north especially Darcy Uhr. Pioneering
              squatting was a different business from squatting of
              today. The number of whites known to be killed by blacks
              in the first ten years of settlement were 254.
         
              When Rogers went to Grantham station, near the
              present Laidley, he took possession of about 400 sheets of
              bark the blacks had stripped for their own wet weather
              camps. These had been taken off ironbark trees, after the
              rough outside was knocked off. Rogers gave nothing in
              return, and Campbell said that this act of mean robbery
              led to the murder of at least seventeen white men, mostly
              shepherds.
         
              Then the Sydney Government sent up a detachment of
              soldiers, who were quartered at the foot of the range, to
              protect dray traffic. The camp was long known as the
              “Soldiers’ Barracks.” Those were days when John Kemp
              estimated the fighting strength of the Helidon district
              tribes at twelve hundred men. If one had only complete
              reminiscences of Richard Jones and Stephen Ferriter, the
              two men side by side in the Paddington cemetery, what an
              interesting picture they would give us of those long
              vanished old, wild, rough days.
“Tell us ye dead!
Will
                  none of you in pity reveal the secret
Of what ye are, and what we dread to be!”
When
              Jones died he was member for the Stanley boroughs, in what
              is now Queensland, in the Legislative Council of New South
              Wales. He had been chairman of the Bank of New South
              Wales, Sydney. He died out at New Farm, and the body was
              brought by water to the Queen’s wharf, from whence a
              funeral procession of about 500 people followed it to the
              cemetery. 
         
              The chief mourners were Thomas Jones, J. S.
              Ferriter, Daniel Peterson, and William Uhr.
         
              Jones , who was a native of Wales, and came to
              Sydney in 1819, married in 1823, Mary Louisa Peterson, by
              whom he had two sons and four daughters.
         
              His daughter, Mary Australia, married Captain W. B.
              O’Connell, Minister for Lands.
         
              The daughter, Louisa, married R. R. Mackenzie, once
              Premier.
         
              Ferriter’s widow, a tall, handsome woman, resided
              for about 20 years in No. 2, Hodgson Terrace, with a maid,
              who stayed beside her to the last.
         
               The
              Uhr at the funeral, was Ferriter’s partner.
         
              There was one E. B. Uhr, J.P., a squatter at Wide
              Bay.
         
              A writer of 1854, says of Ferriter:
“John
              Stephen Ferriter, R.N., was the Agent for Immigration, and
              lived in a cottage adjacent to the stone barracks between
              George and William Streets, afterwards the Colonial
              Treasurers’ Office. He was somewhat addicted to bad puns,
              but otherwise of a kind and gentle disposition.”
         
              Thomas Grenier, a youth of 17, who died on August
              25, 1857, was the eldest son of Thomas and Mary Grenier,
              who kept a hotel at South Brisbane at that time. It was
              the chief resort of the squatters, and there was many a
              wild scene there. On one occasion some joker packed all
              the knives, spoons and forks from the breakfast table into
              a valise of old Captain Collins, who calmly rode away with
              them to the Logan, and got home before he discovered the
              contents. 
         
              In the meantime Grenier had the blacks’ camp
              searched, and much suspicion fell upon innocent men, until
              choleric old Collins walked in, and banged all the cutlery
              on the table, with language that nearly set fire to the
              house.
         
              The Grenier family owned much property in South
              Brisbane, including Highgate Hill.
         
              A 22 months old child of J. C. and Emily Vidgen,
              was buried on March 25, 1866. The mother is also dead. She
              was the first wife of the well known and much liked
              secretary of the Brisbane Gas Company. She was a
              Lancashire girl, but they were married in Scotland.
              Vidgen’s second wife was a Miss Mossop.
         
              In the notice of Crown Solicitor Robert Little, we
              omitted to mention that his first wife was a Miss Geary,
              daughter of old Captain Geary. His second was a Miss
              Bramston, sister of Bramston, once Attorney General – 1870
              –74. He also held a seat for three years in Herbert’s
              first ministry.
         
              Bramston and R. G. W. Herbert, our first Premier,
              batched together in the house well known as “Herston,”
              near the children’s hospital. The name was thus
              constructed. They took the “Her” from Herbert, and the
              “Ston” from Bramston, and made a blend of “Herston” out of
              the first and last syllables. G. P. M. Murray, our ex-P.M.
              calls his house “Yarrum,” his own name reversed.
         
              Amongst those buried in that Church of England
              cemetery, unknown and unrecorded, is a man whose name
              calls back an episode of 1842. At that time, there was an
              Eaton Vale station, on the Downs, a young Jackaroo named
              Barker, who in after years became the Hon. Wm. Barker, of
              Tamrookum station, on the Logan. An old man named Kelly
              and his wife and son, were traveling as hawkers, and
              camped on the present site of Leyburn, then taken up as a
              station by Pitt and Bonifant. This Pitt gave his name to
              the present Pittsworth, and one of his daughters married
              the late Macdonald-Paterson.
         
              Two men posing as shearers joined the hawking
              party. On the second night out from Leyburn, these two
              persuaded young Kelly to sleep at their fire, and shot him
              dead while he was asleep, their intention being to kill
              old Kelly and his wife, and take all the property. But old
              Kelly heard the shot, got his gun and went over to the
              camp. The two scoundrels ran away, and afterwards
              separated. One went towards the Clarence, then called the
              “Big River,” and the other, after going nearly to the
              Severn, doubled back to the Downs. He was a small dark man
              with one eye, and his name was Selby. He went to Jimbour
              woolshed, left there and went by Westbrook, on the way to
              the main range. Having accidentally shot off one of his
              fingers, he made for Rosewood station, to have his injury
              seen to by Dr. Goodwin. Young Barker was one of the
              pursuers on his track. Selby left Rosewood and went
              towards the Logan, evidently making for the Clarence. The
              hutkeeper on Telemon was a ticket-of-leave man, named
              Brown. Barker gave him a description of Selby, and also
              told him there was a reward of £100 for his capture,
              consequently Brown was on the lookout for him. Two days
              afterwards, Selby walked up to the hut, and Brown
              recognised him at once.
         
              He acted as a genial host to Selby, while he sent
              an aboriginal secretly for assistance. Selby was taken to
              Maitland, tried and hanged, an act of justice due directly
              to Barker and Brown. Brown died in 1856, in Brisbane, and
              lies in the Paddington cemetery. He got the reward and a
              free pardon for the capture of Selby.
         
              Barker, and Murray-Prior, and C. R. Haly married
              three sisters named Harper, all very handsome women.
              Prior’s wife was the mother of Mrs. Campbell Praed, and
              Mrs. John Jardine.
Mrs. Barker was the mother of the well known Barker family of Brisbane.
         
              ‘We are no other than a moving row,
Of
                magic shadow shapes that come and go,
Round
                with the sun illumined lantern held,
In
                midnight by the Master of the Show.
But
                helpless pieces of the game he plays,
Upon
                this chequer board of nights and days,
Hither
                and thither moves, and checks, and stays,
And
                one by one back in the closet lays.
In one grave, which ought to have received a
              little more attention, are Louisa Tully and her month old
              child Blanche.
         
              She was the first wife of the late William Alcock
              Tully, ex-Surveyor General, and eldest daughter of the
              late Simeon Lord, of Eskdale station and son of Simeon
              Lord, one of Sydney’s best known men seventy years ago. He
              was generally known as “Merchant Lord.” The Eskdale Lords
              once lived in Tasmania, where they had a station called
              Bona Vista, near Avoca. Fred Lord, of Brisbane, some years
              M.L.A. for Stanley, was born at Bona Vista, on November 8,
              1841. The station was once stuck up by two notorious
              bushrangers named Dalton and Kelly. While they were inside
              the house, Constable Buckmaster came onto the verandah.
              They fired through a glass door and shot him dead, one
              ball striking him in the forehead. Nobody else was hurt.
              Lord’s daughter, Louisa, was then a child. She was born
              there in the year 1837, and died in Brisbane on February
              20, 1866, aged 29. Her only sister married a Lieutenant
              Airey, who came to Sydney and Brisbane as a Lieutenant of
              Marines, in the Challenger with the Duke of Edinburgh, in
              1868 and 1869. He became in after years, the late
              Lieutenant  Colonel
              Airey, of Sydney.
         
              One of the Challenger’s men died in Brisbane and is
              buried at Paddington. His name was Percival Perkins
              Baskerville, Commander in the Royal Navy. He died on March
              1, 1869, aged 21.
         
              One of Louisa Tully’s brothers, Robert Lord, was
              once member for Gympie. His widow is the present wife of
              Sir Horace Tozer, Queensland’s Agent General. Louisa Tully
              left two sons, one of whom is in ‘Frisco, and the other in
              Sydney. Tully’s second wife was a Miss Darvall, sister of
              Anthony Darvall, for many years manager of the A.J.S. Bank
              in Ipswich, and a candidate at the first federal
              elections.
         
              The first Mrs. Tully had five brothers, William,
              Robert, Frederick, Alfred and Simeon. The first two are
              dead. Simeon, one of the owners of Eskdale, has also an
              oyster farm at Lord’s Creek, Southport. One his daughters,
              Ruby Lord, is at the convent school at Warwick, and
              exceptionally clever at woodcarving and fancywork.
         
              W. A. Tully, husband of Louisa, was once a very
              prominent Brisbane man. He was born in Dublin in 1830 and
              graduated as a B.A. of Trinity College in 1852. In that
              year he came to Tasmania, and met the Lord family. He
              stayed there until 1863 and became Inspecting Surveyor in
              the Survey Office. In 1863 he came to Queensland, and in
              1864 was Commissioner for Lands in the Kennedy district.
              In 1864 he was transferred to the Warrego. In 1866 he was
              appointed Chief Commissioner, and then Under Secretary for
              Lands. In 1875 he became Acting Surveyor General, and in
              1883 was appointed Surveyor General. Finally he became a
              member of the Land Board. He and the second wife, Miss
              Darvall died, and are buried together in Sydney. The first
              wife, Louisa Lord, is alone in the Paddington cemetery.
         
              Charles Henry Rawnsley, who died on January 16,
              1873, aged 55, was a staff surveyor who surveyed much of
              the country around Brisbane.
         
              He purchased land and built “Witton Manor” on it,
              at Indooroopilly, the house long occupied by D. C.
              McConnell, and afterwards by Andrew Bogle.
         
              Rawnsley took some interest in natural history, and
              was the cause of a curious discussion in the “Courier,” on
              a supposed new bower bird which was actually named
              “Ptilonorhynchus Rawnsleyi,” and held that name until
              Gerard Krefft, of the Sydney Museum, proved it to be an
              immature male Regent bird, with only part of the yellow
              colors displayed. The Rawnsley’s “satin winged bower bird”
              retired into oblivion. Charles Coxen, Sylvester Diggles,
              and Gerard Krefft,  were
              the principal writers in this old time long dead
              controversy. One of Diggles’ sons is in the Electric
              Telegraph office.
William Grosvenor Armstrong was the year old child of Octavius (and Jessie Augusta) Armstrong, one of our veteran police magistrates, still in service at the Central Police Court, and residing at South Brisbane. The child died on May 29, 1872, and the stone says,
“I know, Oh Lord, that Thy judgments are right,
and that Thy faithfulness hast afflicted me,”
one of
              the conundrums common among epitaphs.
         
              The name of Georgina Hely, who died on September
              10, 1866, as the widow of F. A. Hely, of New South Wales,
              at the age of 71, recalls an old and remarkable family of
              the early days. Hovenden Hely, a giant of six feet six,
              was one of the men who started with Leichhardt on his
              second expedition. He and Leichhardt and Daniel Druce
              (“Old Ironbark”), left Sydney for Raymond Terrace, on the
              Hunter River, in the steamer “Thistle,” on September 30,
              1846. From there they came overland to Jimbour. However,
              Hely’s experience with Leichhardt were not pleasant, and
              the expedition returned from the Mackenzie River as a
              disastrous failure. When Leichhardt started west on his
              last trip, in 1848, and no traces of him were discernible
              for three years, Hovenden Hely went out in 1852 with a
              search expedition, but his two blacks deserted him, and he
              returned to the coast, after being within two days journey
              of where the wild blacks told his own blackboys the
              Leichhardt party were all killed.
         
              Hovenden Hely had a number of sons, who ranged in
              height from 6ft to 6ft 4in., and three of them are well
              known in Brisbane. The Georgina Hely, of the Paddington
              cemetery, was mother of the wife of the late W. L. G.
              Drew. She was a tall handsome woman.
         
              William Yaldwyn, the now retired police magistrate,
              of Brisbane, buried a six weeks old child on May 12, 1867.
              Yaldwyn’s second wife is a daughter of the genial Phil
              Agnew, Post and Telegraph Master of Dunwich. The child of
              1867 was named Duncan Francis. Yaldwyn was one of the
              early squatters of the Dawson, and was out there in 1861,
              when 19 people were killed on Wills’ station on the Comet.
         
              Mary Ellen, the wife of T. H. B. Barron, was a
              daughter of Arthur Wilcox Manning, once Under Secretary.
              This was the Manning whom a relative named Bowerman, also
              in the service, struck on the head with a tomahawk, and
              badly wounded. Parliament in an hour of unreasoning
              sentimentalism, rushed through a “Manning Pension Bill,”
              giving him a pension of £600 per annum, and £300 yearly to
              his widow if she survive him. Manning died after drawing
              about £20,000 and his widow still draws the £300.
         
              Bowerman’s tomahawk will probably cost Queensland
              about £30,000. And Manning went to live in Sydney, and not
              a penny of the pension has ever been spent in Queensland.
         
              Barron’s first wife, Miss Manning, died on December
              21, 1866. His second wife was a daughter of the once
              Registrar-General Blakeney, and she is still alive. Both
              wives were fine looking women. The only daughter of the
              second wife is married to a son of Sir Arthur Hunter
              Palmer.
         
              Charlotte McKeand, who died on April 19, 1865, was
              the wife of a giddy financial agent, McKeand, who had an
              office at the top of Queen Street, beside where a chemist
              named Drew had a shop, near where Dr. Hugh Bell resided,
              at the corner of Queen and George Streets. McKeand made
              much money and lost it again in a fashion common with
              giddy men, and all that is left to perpetuate his name is
              his wife’s grave at Paddington. He was the sixty per cent
              magnate of that period. He owned the land now occupied by
              James Cowlinshaw and Herbert Perry, on the Breakfast Creek
              road.
         
              Henry Kingsmill Shaw and his wife Helen, buried a
              year old infant on November 29, 1874. Shaw was one of the
              managers of George Raff and Co., and had a tragical death
              in a lagoon near Dalby. He stripped to swim in after some
              ducks he had shot, became entangled in the weeds, and was
              drowned. The present writer remembers the sad event. The
              widow married again, and kept Auckland Villa, Tank Street,
              as a boarding house.
         
              Tom Haynes, who died on June 12, 1875, was coachman
              for Governor Cairns, who put a large, horizontal slab,
              with a cross, over his grave, and an inscription to say it
              was a record by the Governor.
         
              Charles Street, who died on September 23, 1873,
              aged 42, was engaged at Pettigrew’s Sawmills in William
              Street. His brother was father of the Street sisters who
              had an artificial flower and dressmaking shop in the
              building now occupied by the Protector of Aboriginals. One
              of these sisters married J. G. Drake, and another was the
              wife of Inspector A. D. Douglas.
         
              Daniel Weinholt, over whom is a fine marble
              monument, died at Cleveland, on February 28, 1865, aged 43
              years, leaving a widow and four children. He was a son of
              the then late J. B. Weinholt, of Kent and Weinholt, who
              were among the early squatting families of Queensland. The
              monument was erected by the brothers and sisters.
         
              Thomas Burnett Temple, M.R.C.S., who died on June
              10, 1864, aged 32, was a young doctor who came out for his
              health, and died of consumption. His mother lies beside
              him, and Cecil Burnett Temple, a child of 13 months. The
              mother died on November 24, 1873, aged 50. The grave has a
              marble slab on a large stone cross.
         
              Inside one railing is a row of five headstones,
              over F. J. Barton, and his two infants, Charles Samways
              Warry, Albert Barton, Thomas Symes Warry, and Thomas
              Warry. F. J. Barton, who was a doctor, died on August 31,
              1863. He was married to a Miss Warry, who, as Barton’s
              widow, married Dr. Hugh Bell, and, on a trip to Scotland,
              was lost in the Fiery Star, which was burned at sea, on
              Good Friday, 1866. 
Barton was one of the first doctors of the Brisbane Hospital, when it was in George Street. Albert Barton, who died on February 23, 1864, was his brother. The stone says:
“I shall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness,”
another
              epitaph conundrum.
Thomas Symes Warry was a chemist in Queen Street. He died, unmarried, on August 19, 1864, aged 42. The stone says:
“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”
Also
              this remarkable verse:
“’Tis
                strange that those we lean on most,
Those
                in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall
                into shadow, soonest lost,
Those
                we love first are taken first,
God
                gives u s love, something to love,
He
                lends us, but when love is grown
To
                ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls
                off, and love is left alone.”
         
              This Warry was a humorist. On one occasion he
              induced Billy Brookes to climb a greasy pole in front of
              his shop in Queen Street. Those were days when Billy was
              not the severe good templar he became in after years. The
              pole climbing scene was exhilarating. Billy, with the aid
              of sandpaper on his hands, and got about half way, then
              slid down with great celerity. Then he and Warry went over
              to call on “Pretty Polly,” at the Treasury Hotel, to drink
              confusion to greasy pole climbing.
         
              “Pretty Polly” afterwards married a man named
              Moffit, and they kept the Royal Hotel, opposite the Post
              Office for years. After she became a widow, Polly went to
              Charters Towers, and died there.
         
              Thomas Warry, senior, died at Gladstone, on
              February 7, 1869, aged 77.
         
              The mother of the late Tom Pratten, of the Railway
              Department, was a Miss Warry.
         
              Emily Gertrude, was the year old child of Sheppard
              and Emily Smith, and died on February 24, 1862. Smith was
              the first manager of the Bank of New South Wales. He was a
              tall, fine specimen of a man, about six feet two, and his
              wife was a little woman. The smallest women never seem to
              hesitate about facing giants.
         
              Richard James Coley, who died on September 12,
              1864, aged 60, was Sergeant-at-Arms in the Legislative
              Assembly. Coley came to a tragical end at the cottage
              still occupied in George Street, close to Harris Terrace.
              His son came to an equally tragical end in after years.
              One daughter was married to a squatter named Thompson, on
              the Dawson, and another married C. B. Dutton, once
              Minister for Lands, Minister for Railways, and Minister
              for Works and Mines, in the first Griffith Ministry.
              Beside Coley are his two little girls, of 8 and 13. The
              first died on March 4, 1845, the other on June 30, 1851.
         
                Sarah Emily Harris, who died on September 17,
                1866, aged 78, was the mother of John and George Harris,
                once the leading Brisbane merchants and shipping agents.
                George married a sister of the late George Thorn, of
                Ipswich, and their well known home, “Newstead,” at the
                mouth of Breakfast Creek, was famous for its generous
                hospitality. Mrs. Harris, who is yet alive and well, is
                still a fine looking woman. She is mother of the well
                known Did Harris. The mother of J. and G. Harris is
                described as a grand old lady. Both brothers are dead.
                John Hurrow Turner, who died on July 20, 1862, was
                manager of the Union Bank in Brisbane. He was born at
                Milthorp, in Westmoreland. It is rather singular to find
                two John Turners, managers of the Brisbane Union Bank,
                and no relation to each other. John Hurrow Turner came
                up from Melbourne to take the place of John Sarjeant
                Turner, whom the directors wanted in Melbourne for some
                special work. He came up also in the hope of improving
                his health, but consumption had too strong a hold, and
                he died while in Brisbane, at the early age of 36.
“Why dost thou build thy
                halls, son of the winged days?
A few short years and the
                blast of the desert comes
It howls in thy empty court”
Ossian
“A spirit passed before me,
                I beheld 
The face of Immortality
                unveiled;
Deep sleep came down on
                every eye save mine,
And there it stood, all
                formless but divine,
Along my bones the creeping
                flesh did quake,
And as my damp hair
                stiffened, thus it spake,
‘Is man more just than God?
                Is man more pure
Than He who deems even
                Seraphs insecure
Creatures of clay, vain
                dwellers in the dust,
The moth survives you, and
                are ye more just?
Things of a day, ye wither
                ere the night
Heedless and blind to
                Wisdom’s wasted light.”
Byron’s Paraphrase from Job
            A few extra
              particulars concerning the old historic Hely family.
              Frederic Augustus Hely, whose wife lies in the Paddington
              cemetery, was the first Superintendent in Chief of
              convicts in Sydney. He died in 1835, and was buried in a
              vault in his own orchard at Gosford, Broken Bay. His wife
              was Georgina Lindsey Bucknell. One of their sons was
              Hovenden Hely, the explorer, who was out with Leichhardt
              in 1846, and went to search for him in 1852.
         
              One son was Henry Lindsey Hely, a barrister, who
              became a Queensland District Court judge.
         
              One daughter married the late W. L. G. Drew, then a
              paymaster in the Fleet. He came to Queensland, joined the
              Civil Service, and his last position was Chairman of the
              Civil Service Board.
         
              Another Hely girl married Edward Strickland, a
              major in the Royal Artillery, and afterwards Sir Edward
              Strickland, Commissary- General, who served in the Zulu
              War of 1878. 
         
              Another girl married Captain G. K. Mann, Royal
              Horse Artillery, who after retiring from that position,
              became Superintendent of the Penal Settlement on Cockatoo
              Island, Sydney Harbor, where he planned and superintended
              the docks. 
         
              Hovenden Hely was the father of the six tall sons
              of whom one is Major Hely, at present in the Government
              Savings Bank.
         
              These are a few results from F. A. Hely’s marriage
              in the long ago with the woman who lies in the Paddington
              cemetery.
         
              Mary Grace Sheppard, who died on June 28, 1869, was
              the wife of Edmund Sheppard, judge of the Metropolitan
              District Court. Her infant son, Alfred Henry, had died on
              October 15, 1866. One of our chief Government officers
              tells the following gruesome story:
        In 1869
              a young fellow named Davidson was out one night with some
              boon companions, and they were on their way home late at
              night. Davidson lived in North Brisbane, the others on the
              South side. He went with them to the ferry, and they
              advised him to go home. The ferry boatman was a Chinaman,
              named George. A punt also ran across on a rope, there
              being no bridge. They pushed the boat off, and Davidson
              took off his coat and trousers and dived in head first
              after it. The Chinaman merely said, ‘Oh, let him swim
              out,’ and pulled away. Davidson was drowned, and the
              police dragged for two days without success. On the third
              day, the ferry boat left the steps with Mrs. Sheppard,
              then on the eve of becoming a mother, two other
              passengers, and the officer who tells the story. When a
              short distance out the punt was coming in from the south
              side. Suddenly, at the stern of the boat, the body of
              Davidson rose from the river, head first, shot up, until
              breast high, glared, as it were, for a second with those
              ghastly, glassy, staring eyes, turned over on the back,
              and floated away. The second it rose, the officer, with
              remarkable presence of mind, instantly caught Mrs.
              Sheppard by both arms, to prevent her turning around to
              look at the body, and held her for at least a hundred
              yards, speaking to her softly, and telling her he would
              give a clear explanation. The judge afterwards thanked him
              earnestly, expressing a belief that he had save his wife’s
              life. Alas! Poor Mrs. Sheppard got puerperal fever after
              the birth of that baby, and lies there in the Paddington
              cemetery, so her life went after all.
         
              A young Church of England clergyman is thus
              recorded: “Jesu Mercy. In memory of the departed John
              Brakenridge, M. A. of Christ’s College, Cambridge, Clerk
              in Holy Orders. Died March 26, 1861, aged 31.” He was one
              of the many young men who have come out to Queensland in
              that advanced stage of consumption which no climate can
              cure.
         
               Amos
              Braysher, who died on September 27, 1871, aged 35, was the
              landlord of “Braysher’s Hotel,” now the Metropolitan, in
              Edward Street. His widow married Duncan, and after Duncan
              died, Mrs. Duncan kept the hotel for years.
         
              Mrs. Duncan’s Metropolitan Hotel was the favorite
              house for squatters in those days, and probably then the
              best hotel in Brisbane.
         
              Buried at Paddington, is an old fellow named
              Marvel, perhaps a descendant of the famous Andrew Marvel.
              He was one of the band of ticket-of-leave men who came to
              the Darling Downs in 1840, with Patrick Leslie, when he
              took up the first station, Toolburra. In after years,
              Leslie wrote that “they were 20 as good and game men as
              ever I saw, and worth any 40 I have ever seen since.”
         
              Marvel was a chum of Peter Murphy, whose name is
              borne by Murphy’s Creek, on the Toowoomba line. Murphy was
              also one of Leslie’s men, and he died at Charters Towers
              on April 6, 1878.
         
              Among the stone less graves is that of Tom Mostyn,
              one of the mob who pulled Trevethan’s butchers shop down
              in the beef riots at Charters Towers, on October 30, 1872.
         
              Another man named Perkins was with Captain Owen
              Stanley on the Rattlesnake, on the Queensland coast, in
              1846, and was present at the Captain’s funeral at North
              Shore, Sydney, on March 10, 1850.
         
              There are many interesting men lying among the
              unknown dead. A young fellow buried there was a son of
              Charles Alcocks, who was one of the owners of the “Free
              Press,” a squatting paper, published in Brisbane in 1851,
              the office being on the site of the present Australian
              Hotel. Young Alcocks was killed by being thrown from his
              horse at Cowper’s Plains, in 1851. These plains are
              erroneously called “Cooper’s Plains,” though named from
              Dr. Cowper, the first medical man at the early convict
              settlement at Moreton Bay. Even Moreton Bay is spelled
              wrongly, as it was named by Captain Cook after the
              Scottish Earl of Morton, in whose name there is no “e.”
         
              An old lady, still living, tells us that in the
              Paddington cemetery, she has a brother, who went up the
              Brisbane River on June 27, 1846, in the first trip of the
              small steamer, Experiment, owned and built by Pearse, when
              the first and second class passenger return fares were 6s
              and 4s, and the freight on wool was 2s per bale. She
              remembered when Francis Gill, for many years Postmaster at
              Ipswich, had a saddler’s shop at South Brisbane, in 1843.
              This latter tough old gentleman is still alive and well,
              and can be seen weekly in Queen Street, faultlessly
              dressed and wearing a bell topper hat. 
         
              She herself remembers when the first soda water and
              lemonade factory was started in North Brisbane, by Fisher
              and Gregory, in 1853, and Dr. Hobbs had his dugong oil
              fishery on the island of St. Helena, fifteen years before
              Superintendent Macdonald started to cut the scrub in 1864
              to prepare it for a penal settlement.
         
              A two year old son of John and Ann Nott was buried
              on May 17, 1875. Nott was a merchant in Elizabeth Street,
              and had a wholesale house there. His wife was widow of a
              painter named Murray. She was a daughter of Lachlan
              McLean, whose son, William McLean, was once a well known
              blacksmith in Elizabeth Street. Nott died at Enoggera
              Terrace. His widow is still alive, and resides near
              Woolloongabba. She was referred to in a former article.
         
              Elizabeth Bateman, who died on March 9, 1873, was
              the wife of Samuel Bateman, who kept a hotel on the site
              of the present Hotel Cecil. It was built by a man who was
              foreman printer on the “Courier,” in old Jimmy Swan’s
              days. After Bateman died, the property was bought at a low
              figure by Dr. Mullen, who built the Hotel Cecil of the
              present day.
         
              The Horrocks family buried three of their children,
              Reginald Blackall, Algernon Levinge, and Gertrude Mary
              Horrocks, in 1871 and 1873, aged 13 months, 10 months and
              2 years and 9 months. Horrocks was the well known officer
              in charge of the Orphans, and was once Immigration Agent.
              He held a Captain’s rank in the army. He was a Manchester
              man, and a nephew of the Horrocks known  to all women
              and drapers, as the originator and maker of “Horrocks’
              long cloths.” He married a Miss Miller, whose father was a
              police magistrate at Armagh, in Ireland. That marriage was
              against the wish of his uncle, and it cost Horrocks a
              fortune.
         
              Horrocks was an educated, polite man, who commanded
              general respect. The tragical fate of one of his sons is
              still familiar to Brisbane people. A daughter, aged 18 or
              19, died recently, but Mrs. Horrocks still resides in
              Brisbane. Reginald Miller, of the Audit Office, is her
              brother.
         
              Ernest Alexander Cairncross, a child of 21 days,
              who died on September 26, 1867, was a son of Cairncross,
              who kept a store on the corner of Queen and Albert
              Streets, where Rutter, the chemist, recently had a shop. 
         
              Cairncross was married to a daughter of old George
              Edmonstone, once M.L.A., for Brisbane. He had a butchering
              business in Queen Street. One of the daughters of
              Cairncross married the present Hon. A. J. Thynne, who was
              staying at the time with the Cairncross family on Spring
              Hill. This Cairncross is often confused with Captain
              Cairncross, who owned Wattlebrae, and in front of whose
              house was the “Cairncross Buoy,” well known to all boating
              men. That red buoy is still there.
         
              A. R. and Annie Jones buried an infant on February
              28, 1870. Jones was a shipbuilder, predecessor of Paul and
              Gray.
         
              One of his sons, named Sydney, became partner in
              the legal firm of Rees R. and Sydney Jones, of
              Rockhampton. He married a daughter of the late John
              Ferguson, and when he died his widow, who had several
              children, married J. T. Bell, late Minister for Lands.
         
              There is a stone placed over Charles Augustus
              Basham, by his brother, W. H. Basham, who still resides at
              Oxley. Basham died on April 12, 1873, aged 37. The father
              of these Bashams was an officer in the Irish Coast Guards.
              Our informant was present, as a boy, at his funeral, at
              Cushendall, Red Bay, Glens of Antrim, in 1849. The boy had
              run away from home to see the funeral, and saw a hearse
              for the first time. This gruesome vehicle gave him an
              awful scare, but nothing like the scare his dad gave him
              when he reached home.
         
              Amelia Isabella Peake, who died on April 22, 1873,
              aged only 24, was the wife of Captain Peake, first Captain
              of the old Government steamer, Kate, which finally sank in
              Moreton Bay. Two of Mrs. Peake’s infants are buried  with her. The
              ages, 24, 25, and 26, were the fatal period for an
              appalling number of wives. When his wife died, Captain
              Peake went to Sydney, and died somewhere in New South
              Wales.
         
              One day in 1872, someone saw two large strange fish
              in the pond of the Botanic Gardens. Captain Peake had a
              seine net and that was taken down to the pond. The fish
              were caught and caused great astonishment, as no one at
              the time had seen anything like them. But the usual expert
              came along and found that they were two specimens of  Ceratodus of
              the Mary and Burnett Rivers. Enquiries proved that they
              had been caught years before in Tinana Creek and been sent
              down to the gardens by the late R. B. Sheridan, then
              Collector of Customs, in Maryborough. Then they were
              restored to the pond and vanished again into oblivion
              until the days of curator McMahon, when one of his men, a
              Teutonic gentleman, was cleaning out the pond, and caught
              a ceratodus, then weighing about 12lbs. The German merely
              remarked, “By shingo, dis vos goot,” and took it home and
              ate it. Next day he caught another, but McMahon happened
              to come along, and sent it up to Curator de Vis at the
              Museum. De Vis saw at once what the fish was, and sent it
              back to the Gardens, where it was placed in the pond, none
              the worse for its temporary absence. Finally that one and
              his mate were removed to the fountain pond at the
              south-west corner of the Gardens, and both were taken away
              by the flood of 1893, or 21 years after Captain Peake had
              hauled them out in his seine net.
         
              John Wallace Barnett, who died on September 3,
              1872, at the age of 46, was a well known man in Brisbane,
              where he was Consular Agent for the United States, a
              country in which he had lived for some years. He and
              Heusmann, and G. R. Fyfe, were once owners of one of the
              principal Mount Perry mines, and the town of “Fyfe
              Barnett,” actually stood on the present site of Mount
              Perry. Barnett’s only son, Sydney Barnett, married a
              daughter of William Baynes, once a partner in the
              squatting firm of Moore Brothers and Baynes, owners of
              Barambah station, on the Burnett.
         
              Baynes was returned as member for the Burnett, at
              the General Election of 1878, as a supporter of
              McIlwraith. He was a fine, genial, honest fellow, and a
              general favourite on both sides of the House. The present
              writer was a member in those days and can write with
              authority. Sydney Barnett lives today at Ormiston, on the
              Cleveland railway.
         
              One of Cobb and Co.’s coachman, a young fellow
              named Henry Taylor, was drowned in Oxley Creek, on March
              11, 1870, aged 29, and his fellow employees erected a
              stone over his grave.
         
                Marie Louise Fairlie, wife of Patrick Fairlie,
                sixth son of the then late Colonel James Fairlie, of
                Holmes House, Ayrshire, Scotland, died at Brisbane, on
                February 16, 1873, aged 31. Referring to the “Courier”
                of that date, we find only the funeral notice, but there
                is a very ambiguous paragraph referring to the sudden
                death of some lady, in a high social position, who had
                been addicted to looking upon rainbow colored wines, and
                had been fed on nothing but brandy and water for weeks
                before her death. The “Courier” thought the subject
                demanded a searching enquiry.
I came to the place of my birth and cried
“the friends of my youth, where are they?”
and an echo answered “Where are they?” –
Arabic
                  poem.
They grew in beauty side by
                side
They filled one home with
                glee,
Their graves are  severed far
                and wide,
By mountain, stream, and
                sea.
The same fond mother bent at
                night,
O’er each fair sleeping
                brow,
She had each folded flower
                in sight,
Where are those dreamers
                  now?
         
              Among the unknown graves are those of a number of
              aboriginals, who were hanged.
         
              These are said, by some early colonists, to have
              been buried outside the cemetery, and others say they were
              buried in a corner inside.
         
              It is certain they were all taken charge of by the
              Church of England. 
On April 21, 1854, a notorious
              black called “Dundahli,” was hanged on the site of the
              present General Post Office. He had been accused of seven
              murders, but the one he was hanged for was that of William
              Gregor and Mary Shannon, at the Pine River. On the day he
              was hanged – by a hangman purposely brought from Sydney –
              there was a mob of about 33 blacks on the “Windmill Hill,”
              where the Observatory is today. They called to Dundahli,
              as he stood on the gallows, and he called back, telling
              them to be sure and kill “Woom-boongoroo,” the black who
              had betrayed him. He was captured in the Valley, where he
              had incautiously ventured among a lot of other blacks,
              through the agency of a man named Baker, who in after
              years had a farm and hotel at Walloon, in the Rosewood.
Baker knew Dundahli, and
              enticed him into a room where three other men were
              concealed, and the four men sprang on him, and held him
              until the police came. Dundahli was badly knocked about in
              the struggle.
Mrs. Baker told the writer in
              1878, that there was a reward of £25 for his capture, and
              she went to the courthouse and drew the money for her
              husband. She is said to be still alive, in Ipswich, or was
              a few years ago. 
Dundahli had too long a drop,
              and fell with his feet on the coffin underneath. The
              hangman doubled his legs us, and added his own weight,
              until the miserable black was strangled. 
         
              It was a ghastly spectacle for a crowd of men,
              women, and children.
         
              Dundahli was buried at Paddington, either inside or
              outside the Church of England ground.
         
              Two other blacks who were hanged are also there.
              These were “Chanerrie,” and “Dick,” hanged on August 4,
              1859, for a criminal assault on a German woman. They were
              two Burnett River blacks.
         
              The came “Kipper Billy,” who was shot by Warder
              Armstrong when attempting to escape from the jail. It was
              remarkable that no bullet wound was discovered, but it
              must have reached his interior somehow, unless he died on
              shock, or what the modern Sawbones calls “stoppage of the
              heart’s action.” Presumably, if the heart continued
              working, death would be indefinitely postponed.
         
              Some enterprising criminologist opened “Kipper
              Billy’s” grave, and took his skull away. This raised much
              indignation on the part of Shepherd Smith and Henry
              Buckley, the cemetery trustees. Someone, in 1854, had dug
              down to Dundahli and taken his head. The Paddington
              cemetery was a lonely isolated spot in those days, and
              there was opportunity enough to dig up anybody.
         
              Buried there is a man named Jubb, who had a hotel
              in Cunningham’s Gap, on the old road to Toowoomba, in
              1852. In that year, two distinguished visitors went up to
              see the squatters on the Downs. These were Lord Kerr, and
              Lord Scott, the latter being a son of the Duke of
              Buccleugh. They stayed, on their way up and down, at
              Jubb’s Hotel. These were the first lords who ever visited
              the territory now called Queensland. Jubb’s name recalls
              the “Jubb Jubb” in the “Hunting of the Snark.”
         
              A neat headstone marks the grave of Thomas Ayerst
              Hooker, second son of James and Mary Hooker, drowned in
              the Condamine crossing at Undulla, on December 13, 1866. A
              squatter named James Hooker, or Hook, was one of the
              owners of Weranga Station, in 1856, afterwards sold by
              Hook, or Hooker, to Mort and Laidley. Was this young
              fellow Hooker his son? Perhaps some old squatter will
              kindly tell us. And was the body brought all that distance
              in those days, to be buried at Paddington?
         
              Buried on December 23, 1871, was a child of seven
              months old, named Moreton Franklyn Ryder, son of the long
              experienced and courteous Under Secretary W. H. Ryder, of
              the Home Office. Ryder was born in Prince Edward Island,
              Canada, in November, 1843, and came to Victoria in 1851.
         
              In 1861, he was on the staff of the old “Guardian”
              newspaper in Brisbane, and in 1862 became a clerk in the
              Government Printing Office. Thence he rose rapidly and
              finally reached the post of Under Secretary, in 1896. He
              had once a sadder bereavement than that of the baby of
              1871, when a fine son was killed on Breakfast Creek bridge
              by being thrown off his pony on the way to school. One of
              his sisters was married to Rickards, once station master
              at Ipswich, and became mother of Katie Rickards, the
              brilliant pianisto.
         
              Harold Durham Paul, who died on June 12, 1873, was
              a four months and fourteen days old baby, fourth son of
              George William and Emily Paul. This George William is our
              well known genial Judge Paul, who was born at Penrith, New
              South Wales, on June 2, 1839, and came to Queensland on
              December 25, 1863. He became Crown Prosecutor in 1866,
              Acting Judge in 1871, and District Court Judge in 1874. He
              has been three or four times Acting Judge of the Supreme
              Court.
         
              A young fellow named William Page had an accident
              on board the ship Light Brigade, on her way to Brisbane,
              and was so badly injured that he died after arrival, on
              December 15, 1866, aged 22.
         
              A young fellow named John Mace, said to be a
              brother or nephew of the famous boxer, Jem Mace, was
              drowned in the Brisbane River, on September 11, 1869, aged
              23.
         
              One grave holds the infant son of George Hope and
              Morforwyn Verney. Captain Verney was aide-de-camp to
              Governor Blackall, and left Queensland when the Marquis
              died.
         
              Evidently Mrs. Verney, if we are to judge by her
              name, belonged to a Welsh family.
         
              The child died on November 26, 1870.
         
              It would appear as if one early settler was
              somewhat of a humorist, with regard to names. That was
              Henry Rosetta, who died on December 9, 1863, aged 49.
              Beside him lies a six year old son, whom he had named
              “Christmas Gift,” and who died June 23, 1864. This is the
              Rosetta who gave his name to “Rosetta Swamp” of the
              present day, the notorious quagmire out of which Dr. Ham
              has ordered the City Council to expel all microbes without
              delay.
         
              One stone less grave contains a man named Marks,
              who was one of a number badly injured in a terrible boiler
              explosion at the Union foundry, in Maryborough, in 1872,
              when seven men were killed. One half of the boiler was
              blown clear over a Chinaman’s garden, 200 yards away.
         
              In 1855, two shiploads of German immigrants arrived
              in Brisbane, by the ships Merbz and Aurora. They were
              engaged in Germany by a man named Kirchner, of Kirchner
              and Co., of Sydney, who brought them out on a two years
              engagement.
         
              They were intended for the stations, as men were
              scarce in those days, especially shepherds, of whom a
              great number were killed by the blacks. The squatters were
              to pay £16 for each German’s passage, to be deducted from
              his two years’ wages. A majority of the squatters made no
              deductions, and the Germans gave great satisfaction. A
              number shared the fate of those who fell under the spear
              and nulla. Among these immigrants were two brothers named
              Muller, one of whom died a month after arrival, and was
              buried in the Paddington cemetery. The brother went as a
              hutkeeper on Manumbar station, and was killed by the
              blacks.
         
              Captain Graham Mylne, M.L.A., and his wife, Helena
              White, buried a five months old child on May 31, 1868.
              Mylne in that year, was member for the Warrego. The
              Mackenzie Ministry was in office, and in a precarious
              position. Not a soul of either the Council or Assembly is
              alive today. South Brisbane was represented by T. B.
              Stephens, North Brisbane by A. B. Pritchard and Dr.
              O’Doherty, the Valley by Charles Lilley. The 20 members of
              the Council, and the 31 of the Assembly are all dead.
              Mylne spoke of the position of the Ministry, who had been
              defeated on the Address-in-Reply, by 13 to 11, and the
              Governor refused to accept their resignation. Mylne’s
              wife, the mother of the child at Paddington, was a Miss
              White, sister of Albert White, of the Logan River, now of
              Bluff Downs, west of Toowoomba. Besides his station on the
              Logan, Albert White held old Combabah Station, which took
              all the country from the Coomera River to Nerang,
              including Southport.
         
              In 1870, the Manager of Combabah was old Sandy
              Gordon, who kept a whole pack of Kangaroo dogs, the
              leaders of which were usually about a mile ahead of Gordon
              on the march. Present writer was a youth of 17, when on a
              first visit to Queensland, in 1870, and we had two days
              kangaroo hunting with Gordon. Southport then was covered
              by heavy forest, with rank undergrowth, and long grass,
              full of wallabies.
         
              Albert White, the present owner of Bluff Downs, on
              the head of the Burdekin, was in Brisbane last week. He is
              one of the finest specimens of men in Queensland. He was a
              young man when owner of Nindooimbah and Coombabah. His
              sister, who married Graham Mylne, is still alive and well,
              in Sydney, but Mylne died many years ago, at Eatonswell
              Station, on the Clarence.
         
              One of his sons, also a Captain Mylne, fought in
              the South African war, and was on the staff of Lord
              Metheun. He passed through Brisbane last week, and we
              shall have occasion to refer to him and Albert White
              again.
         
              David Williams, who died on March 26, 1874, was a
              Welshman, who had been years in the pilot service, at
              Gladstone, and was also some time in the Port Office.
         
              Can anyone enlighten us concerning Clara Ann
              Hopkins, who died on April 12, 1874, aged 29, and on whose
              grave is this extraordinary verse?
“She
                is not as we saw her last,
On a
                suffering dying bed;
To
                her all death and pain are past,
And
                by living streams she is led;
She
                has learned the sacred story,
Of
                the Saviour’s dying love,
Her
                eyes now see the glory,
That
                awaited her above..”
         
              If the writer of this had seen the look in the eyes
              of those who read it, he would have fled somewhere in the
              middle of the night.
         
              In the centre of Rosewood, near Marburg, is a flat
              valley, once known as Sally Owen’s Plains, still known as
              such to old residents. Sally was an old time celebrity,
              who kept a hotel at Western Creek, between Rosewood and
              Grandchester, then known as “Bigge’s Camp.” She used the
              plains for her cattle and horses, as they were safe there
              from horse thieves and cattle duffers. The “plains” were
              merely an open forest pocket in the brigalow scrub. An
              enterprising person , who had run an illicit still in the
              old country, thought Sally Owen’s plains an ideal spot for
              a similar institution, and he made whisky and rum there in
              hundreds of gallons. Likewise he killed cattle and boiled
              then down for tallow. He took this tallow to Ipswich in
              large casks, but there was only about six inches of tallow
              in the inside of the casks, and all the rest was occupied
              by kegs of raw spirit! This was engineered so cleverly
              that there was never any discovery. That old time
              distiller of Sally Owen’s Plains, lies at rest in
              Paddington cemetery, near the southwest corner.
         
              We withhold his name for the sake of his
              descendants. The shepherds, shearers, stockmen, and
              bullock drivers of those days must have had a gay time
              with the rum from Sally Owen’s Plains. Artemus Ward would
              have said “that sort of rum inspires a man with a wild
              desire to smash windows!”
         
              In reference to correspondents who wrote to make
              corrections.
         
              Notwithstanding the fair Josephine Papi’s
              declaration that her uncle Jerry Scanlan was a surveyor,
              we have the inexorable facts that he was a saddler by
              trade, and a policeman by choice. Those who knew Jerry
              most intimately, say he would not have known the
              difference between a theodolite and a concertina. Jerry
              had a weakness for attending funerals, mounted on a
              serious looking horse, with two long “weepers” hanging
              from the back of his hat.
         
              In reply to Mr. Rendall, who says his father’s name
              was John Wood Rendall, we can only say that John Randall
              is the name on the tombstone.
         
                In answer to Mr. Conroy, we have the fact that a
                Constable John Conroy was burned to death on the
                Durundur Road. There may have been two constables of
                that name.
“The
                man, how wise, who sick of gaudy scenes,
Is
                led by choice to take his favourite walk,
Beneath
                Death’s gloomy, silent cypress shades,
Unpierced
                by Vanity’s fantastic ray,
To
                read his monuments, to weigh his dust,
Visit
                  the vaults and dwell among the tombs.-
Young’s
                  Night Thoughts
How
                loved, how valued once, avail thee not;
To
                whom related, or by whom begot;
A
                heap of dust alone remains of thee
‘Tis
                all Thou art and all the Proud shall be.
-Pope
The
                doctor says that I shall die;
You
                that I knew in days gone by,
I
                fain would see your face once more,
Con
                well its features o’er and o’er,
And
                touch your hand, and feel your kiss,
Look
                in your eyes and tell you this;
That
                all is done, that I am free,
That
                you through all eternity
Have
                neither part nor lot in me.
-Amy
                  Levy
         
              A neat headstone is over Susan Geary, wife of
              Lieutenant William Geary, R.N. She died on August 9, 1852.
              She was the mother of all the Queensland Gearys, including
              four girls and three boys, of whom only one girl is alive
              today.
         
              One of the sons was once manager of Jimbour station
              when Joshua Bell was owner, in the days when champagne was
              a common beverage, and the silver on the Jimbour dining
              table cost £500. Those days have passed.
         
              It is interesting to remember that Joshua Peter
              Bell was an enthusiastic admirer of the Miss Geary who
              married Robert Little, the Crown Solicitor. Both were
              competitors for her hand, and Little won. It was a
              grievous disappointment to Bell, but the squatters of
              those days, like the French Mirabeau family, had a talent
              for choosing fine women, and Bell went and wooed and won a
              daughter of Dr. Dorsey, of Ipswich. She and the Miss Geary
              who married Little, were two of the finest specimens of
              women in Queensland. One Miss Geary married Percy
              Faithfull, member of an old time honored family, in New
              South Wales. On one occasion in their single days, the
              sons of Faithfull were driving home across the Goulburn
              Plains, when they were attacked by Gilbert, the
              bushranger, and his gang, who had bailed up Springfield
              station, and rounded up the whole population. The
              Faithfull boys made a gallant fight, and were quite a
              surprise party to Gilbert. The Gilbert men were armed only
              with revolvers, and knowing that one of the Faithfulls had
              a rifle, in addition to their revolvers, galloped round at
              long range, fired under the necks of their horses, and
              from behind trees, and generally gave the Faithfull
              warriors a wide berth. One of Gilbert’s men got fairly
              close and fired from behind a tree, point blank at one of
              the Faithfull brothers, but Faithfull’s horse threw up its
              head at the exact moment, intercepted the ball with its
              forehead, and fell dead. Finally the bushrangers cleared,
              and the gallant fight of the Faithfulls was afterwards
              recognised by the Government in a gold medal for each of
              the party.
         
              One Miss Geary married E. O. Moriarty, engineer in
              chief of Harbors and Rivers in New South Wales. Another
              married a nephew of Sir Maurice O’Connell. The Miss Geary
              who married Robert Little had a family of four sons and
              four daughters.
         
              William Henry Geary, the grandfather, died on
              February 20, 1870. He was at one time Harbor Master in
              Brisbane. One of his sons, Godfrey N. B. Geary, was once
              chief clerk in the Lands office, and a captain in the
              artillery. He involved himself in a a lawsuit for breach
              of promise brought against him by a Miss Hollingsworth, of
              Stanthorpe, and she got a verdict for a thousand pounds.
              But she merely held it over him in terrorem, like a
              Damocles sword, which was to fall only if he married
              another girl. As he contracted no further engagements, the
              sword remained suspended until he died. Miss Hollingsworth
              finally married Tom Coventry, a gentleman whose name is
              not unknown in mining circles. Mrs. Coventry, an educated,
              intellectual, woman, was for years, the social editor-ess
              of the “Telegraph,” and once started on her own account a
              bright little journal called the “Princess,” which reached
              22 numbers, and died generally regretted by all who knew
              it. 
         
              On the headstone of the Mrs. Geary from 1852 we
              read:
“And I heard a voice which said: ‘
Write – blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth.”
         
              Margaret Francis Clara, wife of William Pickering,
              died on June 28, 1859, aged 43, and Pickering died on
              March 11, 1868, aged 57. Pickering was once Curator of
              Intestate Estates, also an auctioneer and commission
              agent, and owned a lot of land in the Valley, where the
              Pickering Estate took in a considerable area now covered
              by closely built houses. Alexander Raff succeeded him as
              Curator of Intestate Estates. One of his sons, now
              deceased, was a once fairly well known Captain Pickering,
              for some years labor agent in the South Seas. His family
              are still in Brisbane.
         
              Elizabeth Cowell, who died on January 17, 1864,
              aged 38, was the first wife of Tom Cowell, once one of
              Brisbane’s best known men. Tom once had a dairy farm at
              the “One-mile Swamp,” the present Woolloongabba, and
              carried milk into town in two cans slung  on a yoke
              across his shoulders. The farm was owned by old “Joe
              Howe,” who is still alive. Joe had one daughter who
              married Bill Moody, of Oxley.
         
              Cowell prospered , as he deserved to prosper , and
              in after years became the proprietor of the Sovereign
              Hotel in Queen Street. Finally he retired, and lived in a
              house on the North Quay, near the Longreach. The house was
              afterwards occupied by Dr. Purcell, and at the present
              time is tenanted by the Military Club. In that house, Tom
              Cowell’s first wife, a fine specimen of a woman, died a
              tragical death through her clothes catching fire, and the
              servant girl who tried to save her was also burnt to
              death.
         
              In after years, Tom married again, and the second
              wife is still alive. By the first he had one daughter, who
              married a man named Daniell, who died not long ago.
              Present writer knew Cowell well. Once sold to him for £40
              a double choke bore Greener gun which cost £65. Cowell
              afterwards sold it to Lennon, of Lennon’s hotel, for £40,
              and Lennon used it for many pigeon matches. When he died
              the gun disappeared, and finally found its way to a
              Brisbane pawn shop, where warehouseman John Bell saw and
              bought it for £5, and it is now in his possession.
         
              On Mrs. Cowell’s grave is the line
“Ye know not what shall be on the morrow.”
         
              One headstone, which has fallen down, bears the
              name of two children, Emma and William Henry Collins, who
              died in 1863 and 1864. Beside them is the grandmother,
              Mary Collins, who died on July 12, 1873, aged 86, one of
              the very few old people in the cemetery. The father of the
              children, Jimmy Collins, was a well known butcher and
              tanner, who once owned the present York Hotel, which he
              built up from a butcher’s shop, the money being mostly
              provided by Joshua Peter Bell, who realised the words of
              the Psalmist, “passing away, passing away,” for he never
              saw his cash anymore.
         
              Ann Ellen Boyce, second daughter of William Martin
              Boyce, E.L.C.S., died on June 11, 1866, aged 24. Also
              Susan, wife of W. M. Boyce, died on May 27, 1874, aged 58.
              The stone also records Ellen Victoria Board, youngest
              daughter of W. M. and Susan Boyce, who died at Melbourne
              on August 24, 1877, aged 34. She was the wife of T. A.
              Board, of Sydney, brother of G. L. Board, present chief
              clerk in the Lands Office and Inspector of State Forests.
              The stone also records Stuart Leslie Board, a child of the
              mother, who died in Melbourne.
         
              William Martin Boyce was for many years Town Clerk
              of Toowoomba, and his only son, J. A. Boyce, is the well
              known P.M. of Townsville. The first wife of W. M. Boyce
              was a Miss Brown of Tasmania. When G. L. Board was a youth
              he went to a collegiate school kept by the Rev E. B. Shaw,
              close to the old windmill, the present Observatory. Among
              his fellow pupils were the McDougalls and Taylors, of
              Toowoomba, Pring Roberts, Arthur Chambers, Fred Hamilton,
              Jack Kent, the two Hausmanns, and other sons of the
              pioneers.
         
              A four months’ child named Frederick Charles
              Cracknell was a son of Cracknell, who was the predecessor
              of Matvieff as head of the Telegraph Department. He lived
              four miles out on the Ipswich Road, near Hardcastle’s old
              hotel.
Gilbert Wright, of New South Wales, was a solicitor, who died in Brisbane on June 12, 1866, aged 37. He resided in the Valley. His widow married the well-known R. R. Smellie, founder of the firm of R. R. Smellie and Co. On Wright’s tomb are the words,
“I wait for the Lord;
my soul doth wait,
and
                in His word do I hope.”
         
              Charlotte Greenwood was the wife of Christopher
              Henry Greenwood, and died on March 16, 1857, aged 23.
              Greenwood kept a hotel in Grey Street, near Russell
              Street, South Brisbane. One Miss Greenwood married George
              Grenier, of Oxley. The Grenier family held a lot of land
              in South Brisbane.
         
              Joseph Thompson, who died on December 19, 1857,
              aged 38, had his name handed down by the Thompson Estate
              on the Ipswich Road, near the junction.
         
              On March 11, 1856, a young fellow named J. M.
              Omanney, aged 20, was thrown from his horse and killed on
              the Breakfast Creek road. He was a son of Major Omanney,
              of the Bengal Engineers.
One of the earliest graves is that of Edward Roe Thomas, fourth son of Jocelyn Thomas, Esq., of Van Diemen’s Land, who died on July 31, 1853, aged 32. The stone assures us that
“he died in the Christian faith, a firm believer in his Saviour.”
His
              father was careful to have the “Esquire” on the tombstone.
              Some day we shall see a stone to the memory of John Brown,
              J.P.
         
              A neat stone marks the grave of Frederick Neville
              Isaac, of Gowrie, Darling Downs, who died on July 12,
              1865, aged 44. This name takes us back to the early
              squatting days, to the year 1845, when Hughes and Isaac
              held Westbrook and Stanbrook stations, when Tom Bell,
              grandfather of the present Bells, held Jimbour, and ex
              P.M. Papa Pinnock held Ellangowan. Leichhardt named the
              Isaacs River, a tributary of the Fitzroy, after F. Isaac,
              of Gowrie station. It is rather remarkable that the name
              on the tombstone is Isaac, whereas Leichhardt and the
              early records give it as Isaacs. The Isaac in the
              Paddington cemetery was only 23 when he met Leichhardt at
              Gowrie in 1844.
         
              Alice Elizabeth Burrowes, who died in March 1859,
              was the sixteen year old daughter of Major Edward
              Burrowes, one time Deputy Surveyor-General when A. C.
              Gregory was Surveyor-General. Burrowes held a Lieutenant’s
              commission in the 93rd Regiment at 17 years of
              age. He married a Francis Susannah Nalder, who died at the
              age of 68, at Burketown, when on a visit to her son, and
              was buried under the only shade tree within a radius of 30
              miles. Eight of her family are still living, five sons and
              three daughters. One of the girls, Frances Mary, is a
              widow, living in Yorkshire. Amy is a Mrs. Allan Campbell,
              of Bathurst, and the third, Augusta, is the wife of the
              well known Brisbane chemist Harry Cormack. The first
              treadle sewing machine that ever came to Queensland was
              imported by A. C. Gregory, and presented to Mrs. Burrowes.
              It was a great curiosity in those days. Mrs. Cormack’s
              name, Augusta, was given in honor of Gregory, whose name
              was Augustus.
         
                A man named Peter Martin was drowned off McCabe’s
                wharf at South Brisbane. In 1855, and is buried at
                Paddington. He was one of three men wrecked away east of
                Fraser’s Island, and they landed from one of the
                vessel’s boats on the coast of Bribie Island, where the
                other two men were killed by the blacks. Miller got away
                and landed on St Helena, when Dr. Hobb’s dugong fishing
                station was there. McCabe’s wharf, where he was drowned,
                was on the present site of Baines’ Brothers wharf. The
                first “Courier” office was on McCabe’s wharf, and did
                not move over to George Street until 1852. The present
                W. J. Costyn, chemist in the Valley, was a boy in the
                “Courier” office on McCabe’s wharf, in 1847 and 1848,
                and the money to pay for the first plant was found by T.
                H. Green, whose sister Costyn married in after years.
                James Swan, who has been often credited with starting
                the “Courier,” came on the scene only after the office
                was removed to George Street.
“Farewell, my son!
And farewell all my earthly happiness!
Farewell, my only son!
Would to God I had died for thee!
I shall never more see earthly good in the land of the living!
Attempt not to comfort me!
I shall go mourning all the rest of my days,
until my grey hairs come down with sorrow to the grave!”
Hervey’s
                  Meditation
I
                pass, with melancholy stare,
By
                all these solemn heaps of fate;
And
                think, as soft and sad I tread
Above
                the venerable dead,
Time
                was, like me, they life possessed;
And
                time will be when I shall rest.
-Parnell
         
              In the Baptist section of the Paddington cemetery
              is William Grimes, who died on October 30, 1870, aged 60.
              The stone tells us that he “was the father of Messrs.
              Grimes of this city.” It also records the death of Ernest
              Henry Grimes, a grandson, who died on May 12, 1875, aged
              6. The Grimes family are prominent in Brisbane history
              over a considerable period. Samuel and George Grimes were
              members of the Assembly as representatives of Oxley and
              Bulimba. 
         
              In 1874, S. and G. Grimes, grocers of Queen Street,
              had a sugar and arrowroot mill at Oxley, adjoining the
              Pearlwell Estate, owned by Dr. Waugh, one of whose
              daughters was drowned in the Quetta.
         
              Sam and George Grimes were men of undoubted
              honesty, but not orators or statesmen. On one occasion
              when Sam rose to speak, Morehead got up and walked out,
              remarking: “I can’t stand the hum of that arrowroot mill!”
         
              This sarcastic observation referred to the
              arrowroot making at the Coongoon mills. Grimes and Petty,
              and S. and G. Grimes were once familiar firms.
         
              One Miss Grimes married J. B. Hall, Accountant in
              Insolvency.
         
              One daughter and one son, Ernest Henry Grimes,
              remained unmarried.
         
              Jane Bulgin, who died in 1872, was the wife of
              auctioneer Bulgin, of Brisbane’s early days, and mother of
              Henry Bulgin, generally known as “Lord Bulgin,” who died
              recently, leaving a family, of whom one was for a time
              nurse in the General Hospital. One of “Lord Bulgin’s”
              sisters was a girl whose beauty captivated Sam Griffith,
              Chief Justice of the Commonwealth, and Sam did his best to
              induce her to become Mrs. Griffith, but Sam was not her
              ideal, or she had no idea that he would one day have a
              salary of £3,500, and so she rejected him and married C.
              C. Carrington, one of the still living men who have been
              longest in the Civil Service in Queensland.
         
              Clara Reinhard, 
              who died on November 27, 1867, was a year old child
              whose sister was one of the cleverest pupils in the early
              days of All Hallows Convent School. Can anyone tell us
              what became of Lillian Reinhard?
         
              William Hickey, who died on August 7, 1871, is
              under a stone erected by his brother, Matthew Hickey, who
              was 30 years with D. L. Brown and Co., and is now with
              Alexander Stewart and Sons. Hickey’s brothers were well
              known perambulating salesmen in the days when Mallens and
              Ziemans and other old time peripatetic merchants were out
              in search of spare cash from the pioneer settlers.
         
              The oldest recorded grave in the cemetery is that
              of “Margaret Brown, of Ipswich,” native of Kildare,
              Ireland, who died on August 30, 1845, aged 35. Being
              Irish, she was evidently no relation of the Ipswich Brown
              family, which included Peter Brown, once mayor of Ipswich,
              and a leading architect, as they were all decidedly
              Scottish, and wore kilts and called themselves “Broon.” So
              far we have failed to trace the Maggie Brown who was taken
              out to the Paddington cemetery over sixty five and a half
              years ago, or three years after Brisbane was thrown open
              to free settlement, in 1842.
         
              Conspicuous among the graves of the white race is
              the solitary last resting place of “Sing Cong Long,” in
              the Presbyterian ground. How came this one lonely disciple
              of Confucius and Mencius, and Bhudda, among the adherents
              of the stern merciless uncompromising John Knox, who
              bearded the Scottish, Queen Mary, in her den? Sing Cong
              Long was a Chinese merchant and fruiterer, who had shops
              in Albert Street, and was a general favourite with all
              classes. And yet Sing Cong Long had unscrupulous enemies –
              with whom he wanted to get even – and he studied the
              various religions to ascertain which one gave most promise
              of a conclusive settlement. He decided in favor of
              Presbyterianism after reading a translation of a sermon by
              Calvin, who held that the chief joy of the Blessed was in
              sitting on the battlements of Heaven and joyfully
              contemplating the gymnastic performances of lost souls
              basting in the sulphur ocean of fire underneath! Hence the
              appearance of Sing Cong Long in the Presbyterian cemetery!
         
              Caroline Jane Blakeney, buried on March 23, 1866,
              was a little girl, six years and 20 days of age, daughter
              of William and Eliza Blakeney. Blakeney was the once well
              known Registrar-General, and son of Judge Blakeney. One of
              his daughter s married T. H. B. Barron, and another
              married S. B. Leishman, the squatter. Both were fine
              looking women. One of Mrs. Barron’s daughters is the wife
              of one of Sir Arthur Palmer’s sons. C. J. Blakeney, a once
              well known lawyer of Brisbane, Cairns, and Cooktown, was
              another son of the Judge.
         
              Thomas William Hutton, a young man who died in May
              1874, was the son of an old gaol warder, whose name is
              borne by Hutton Lane, between Adelaide and Ann Street. One
              of his daughters married a son of Stuart Russell, author
              of the “Genesis of Queensland.”
         
              Maria Passmore, who died on April 11, 1872, aged
              27, was the wife of Hugh Passmore, one of a family well
              known in the early days of Toowoomba, where they were
              prominent citizens.
         
              Edmund Morris Lockyer, who died on June 28, 1872,
              aged 62, was a son of Major Lockyer, who came up the
              Brisbane River in a whaleboat in 1825, and wrote a full
              description of all he saw. Among the men with him were two
              red-haired soldiers, at whose fiery ringlets the blacks
              were much astonished. Lockyer and his party camped one
              night at the mouth of Oxley Creek, and in his diary he
              says, “Emus were running about all night, making an
              intolerable noise.” As emus do not move at night, and make
              very little noise at any time, Lockyer evidently referred
              to the stone plover, usually known as the curlew.
              Lockyer’s name is handed down to us by Lockyer’s Creek at
              Gatton, one of the tributaries of the Brisbane River.
         
              Peter and Magdalena Betz buried a year old child on
              February 20, 1870, Betz kept the West Riding Hotel, at the
              foot of Queen Street. 
         
              The only child of William and Ellen Scarr, was
              buried on October 23, 1874. Scarr was a draughtsman in the
              Survey Office, and still resides in Brisbane. Very
              melancholy are these children’s graves. Old Matthew Prior,
              the poet, wrote, 
“Happy
                  the babe, who, privelege by fate,
To
                  shorter labour and lighter weight,
Received
                  but yesterday the gift of breath,
Ordered tomorrow to return to death.”
         
              Edward Hackway, who died on August 18, 1871, aged
              41, left a widow, a handsome woman, who married John
              Killeen Handy, member for the Mitchell in 1863.
         
              Bramston petitioned against his return, but the
              Committee decided that he was legally entitled to hold the
              seat. The petition was based on the ground that Handy was
              a priest of the Roman Catholic faith, and as such could
              not be a member of Parliament.
         
              The chief evidence was that of Dr. Cain, who said
              that with the Church of Rome, a priest is always a priest,
              and that he cannot give up, nor can the church take from
              him, the priestly character conferred by ordination. He
              might dress like a layman, but he is always a priest. Even
              if under major excommunication, he still remains a priest,
              though cut off from positive and active communion with the
              faithful. Under minor ex-communication he can still say
              Mass, and even under major excommunication he can
              administer baptism in emergencies. Handy said he joined
              the Church of England in 1863, and next month was married
              by a Church of England clergyman. In 1865 he started
              practice as a barrister in Brisbane, where he had arrived
              in the previous year. Evidently Mrs. Hackway was Handy’s
              second wife. Handy’s vote on one occasion saved the Palmer
              Ministry from defeat, a friendly act not forgotten by
              Palmer.
         
              An old time publican named Woods kept a hotel in
              Queen Street, on the site of Todd’s auction mart. He was
              the man who introduced the first cab to Brisbane, one of
              the old “jingles” which have long since disappeared,
              though in a majority over the hansoms for many years. The
              two seats were back to back, the same as in an Irish
              jaunting car, but faced to and from the driver, whereas in
              the Irish car the seats were back to back facing over the
              wheels.
         
              The first “jingle” was received with great applause
              and much mirth, and as at that time the streets bore no
              resemblance to a billiard table, it was necessary to hold
              on securely to avoid being fired out into space. No
              citizen  of
              that date was recognised in “society” unless he had been
              on Woods’ jingle. The driver on one occasion, after taking
              too much rum on board, drove his astonished steed into the
              waterhole at the corner of Albert and Adelaide Streets,
              and went to sleep on the front seat. Sarcastic bushmen
              woke him up, and asked if he was fishing. One of them
              waded in and led the horse out.
         
              A young man of 22 named Martin Collins died on May
              2, 1871. His father was a butcher in Queen Street, and one
              of the family is still in the same trade in Warwick.
         
              A child’s grave bears the name of Irwin Maling, who
              was a military captain connected with a detachment of the
              50th Regiment, which bore the name of the
              “Dirty Half-hundred,” a name said to have been acquired by
              their severe economies in personal expenditure, especially
              where ladies were concerned.
Mary Jewell, who died in December 1874, aged 41, was the wife of Jewell, whose name is born by Jewell’s Buildings, near the Grand Hotel.
       
              (text missing) Fahey was adopted by the New England
              blacks, who took him to the triennial festival at the
              Bunya Mountains. Fahey evidently was quite at home with
              the blacks, and he remained with the bunya tribes, who
              ornamented him with raised “Moolgarre” scars on the breast
              and shoulders, and gave him the native name of
              “Gilburrie.” He had been 12 years with the blacks, whose
              language he spoke fluently, when found and brought in by
              Lieutenant Bligh and the native police in 1854. He was
              taken to Sydney, identified by the Superintendent of
              Convicts, and actually sentenced to 12 months hard labor
              for absconding 12 years before. Fahey escaped and joined
              the blacks in 1842, the year in which Davis and Bracefell
              were brought in by Andrew Petrie. Fahey had a brother, a
              free man, who came out in 1852, and was in Sydney when his
              brother was brought in. After “Gilburrie” Fahey had served
              his time, the two brothers came to Brisbane, and went to
              work on Jimbour station under the name of Bryant, but
              “Bilburrie” was at once recognised by the blacks. Burke,
              the manager of Jimbour had been killed by the blacks in
              1852, not far from the station.
         
              The Bells told Fahey that they cared nothing about
              his previous career; but he only stayed there over one
              shearing season, and went away to New South Wales where he
              died. 
         
                The other brother, Denis Fahey, came to Brisbane,
                and worked for William Pettigrew. He was a tall, dark,
                powerful man, with restless eyes, and an uncontrollable
                temper. In a row one night at McAdam’s public house,
                some one struck him with an axe handle from behind, and
                he died two days after. He is buried in the northwest
                corner of the Catholic cemetery at Paddington. Some
                woman who loved him went out every Sunday and placed a
                bouquet of flowers on his grave for 12 months. The she
                married and went away south, and never more did flowers
                adorn the grave of Fahey, the wild Hiberian, brother of
                the still wilder “Gilburrie,” who lies in some unknown
                grave in the sister State.
“Death
                is here, and death is there;
Death
                is busy everywhere,
All
                around, within, beneath,
Above,
                is Death, and we are Death,
Death
                has set his mark and seal,
On
                all we are and all we feel,
On
                all we know and all we fear,
All
                things that we love and cherish,
Like
                  ourselves must fade and perish.
Lost,
                lost, for ever lost,
In
                the wide pathless desert of dim Sleep,
That
                beautiful shape! Does the dart gate of Death
Conduct
                to thy mysterious Paradise,
Oh,
                Sleep?
-Shelley
What
                guilt,
Can
                equal violations of the dead?
The
                dead how sacred! Sacred is the dust
Of
                this Heaven labored form, erect, divine!
This
                Heaven assumed majestic robe of earth.
-Young’s
                  “Night Thoughts.”
Among the dead is one name well known in the Queensland State and Federal service today. On November 12, 1871, Richard Bliss, aged 44, was buried in the Paddington cemetery, and beside him lies his two little girls, Mary Sophia Bertha, and Maud Ethel, who had died in 1865 and 1869, aged six years and one year. Richard Bliss and family came to Queensland in 1864, in the Flying Cloud, commanded by Captain Jones, who was in after years drowned in the China Seas.
         
              The Bliss family, on arrival in Brisbane, went to
              stay with the Rev. John Bliss, at St. John’s parsonage, in
              William Street. John and Richard Bliss were brothers, but
              the clerical Bliss had been out some years before the
              other, and had ceased to be a new chum when his brother
              arrived. Richard Bliss became an officer in the Audit
              Office, and also the father of six sons, of whom one is
              today in the Treasury, one in the Lands Office, and two in
              the Customs, in Brisbane and Townsville. One son, the
              eldest brother, was a captain in the militia, and was
              present with Colonel Prendergast at the storming of King
              Theebaw’s palace. One of the daughters of Richard Bliss
              married the well known and deservedly respected Dr. Ryan,
              of Gympie.
         
              Mary Ann Hamilton, who died as a girl, at the age
              of 13 years, was a daughter of the once well known J. A.
              Hamilton, who was in charge of Dunwich for over twenty
              years. One of her brothers is a responsible officer in the
              Port Office today. Hamilton, who died some years ago,
              married a second time, and the second wife is still alive,
              and at present on a visit to a daughter in North
              Queensland. By each wife he had a family of six children.
              There was no better known man in Moreton Bay, and Dunwich
              has never had a more considerate or sympathetic
              superintendent.
         
              Among those in the Presbyterian cemetery is
              Margaret Stewart, who died on August 31, 1858. She was the
              wife of Hugh Stuart, who died on June 28, 1871, aged 73.
              Hugh was a popular blacksmith, whose smiddy was at the
              back of Menzies boardinghouse, opposite Jerry Scanlan’s
              hotel in Edward Street. Jerry’s hotel was then kept by a
              man named Fishley, the predecessor of Jerry. Stewart was
              an enthusiastic Highlander, and a great patron of the
              Caledonian sports. Likewise he was a general favourite,
              and a real good old Scot.
         
              James Paish, who died at the age of 26, on November
              16, 1866, was a member of the “Queen’s Own” the 50th
              regiment, then stationed at Brisbane, in the Petrie
              Terrace barracks. This regiment left an unpleasant record.
              They were in frequent conflict with the police, and a
              source of many troubles. The men had an unsavory
              reputation. They were charged with various robberies, and
              never paid any bills except compelled. Frequently the
              police sent at night for the officers to come and take
              charge of their men, who had been arrested. Three of them
              assaulted Constable Colahan in Albert Street, which even
              then had an evil reputation, and had him apparently killed
              when the police arrived and handled the soldiers roughly,
              in fact the three of them were knocked out by a present
              day retired Inspector of Police, renowned for his size as
              a son of Anak.
         
              In South Brisbane, the redoubtable citizen, Paddy
              Fox, is the only surviving link that binds us to that
              Queen’s Own squad of 1868. When the regiment departed,
              Paddy was left behind. He was either too virtuous and
              abstemious to continue longer with such a reckless crew,
              or he was asleep at the hour of despatch.
         
              Henry Watson, who died on December 17, 1861, at the
              age of 38, was a young man of independent means, whose old
              country parents were comfortably situated. Watson married
              a daughter from the Grenier family of South Brisbane. He
              was the first man who traded in oysters from Moreton Bay
              to Brisbane. This was a hobby with Watson more than a
              source of revenue. He bought a cutter and engaged a man to
              bring oysters to Brisbane and sell them. The oysters in
              those days were sold at 10s per bag, or a shilling for a
              bucketful, and were a much better quality than we get
              today. Watson’s career was unfortunately cut off at the
              early age of 38, and the oyster trade languished for two
              years afterwards.
         
              Two children of Robert D. Henry died at Goodna in
              1873 and 1875. Henry was then a warder at Woogaroo, but he
              was a man who held a sailing master’s certificate, and in
              after years we find him as captain of the schooner Tom
              Fisher, which was built on the Clarence, and named after
              Tom Fisher, the leading storekeeper of Grafton in those
              days. The schooner traded for many years between Brisbane
              and Thursday Island, and is still “going strong.” Captain
              Henry is at present residing in Ernest Street, South
              Brisbane. His wife is a sister of David Graham, retired
              Inspector of Police, well known in Brisbane, Charleville,
              Rockhampton, Townsville, and Burketown. He is now a
              resident of Edmonstone Street, South Brisbane.
         
              The first vessel Captain Henry had in Queensland,
              was the Governor Cairns, which was built in England
              purposely to be used by the Queensland Government as a
              pilot schooner. Her construction was supervised by Captain
              Daniel Boult, and she was brought over by Captain
              Cairncross, nephew of the Captain Cairncross who resided
              at Wattlebrae, near Bulimba. Captain Henry had charge of
              the Governor Cairns, for some years in Moreton Bay, where
              she was the pilot schooner. In the first days of the
              annexation of New Guinea, she was chartered as a yacht for
              the use of the Government. Then she had a term of service
              at Cooktown and Thursday Island. About two years ago,
              Captain Henry bought her a s a speculation, and sold her
              in Sydney at a profit. This vessel had a varied and
              successful career at least so far as escaping accidents or
              wreck was concerned.
         
              Mary Baird was the wife of the Rev. John Wilson, a
              Presbyterian parson, who lived near the Christian
              Brothers, on Gregory Terrace. She died on January 17,
              1866, aged only 29. Wilson preached in the old Wharf
              Street church, and is remembered as a good preacher, and
              all round real fine fellow. He is the subject of a very
              comical reminiscence. Two immigrant ships had arrived, and
              on board were many girls, some of whom were of a somewhat
              frivolous disposition, girls for whom Mrs. Grundy had no
              terrors. When one loose onshore these festive ladies
              atoned for the restraint of the sea voyage. Their conduct
              was giddy in the extreme. Three of the choicest and their
              gentlemen friends took possession of Wilson’s hay loft
              under the impression that it was some peculiar sort of
              Australian bedroom. Wilson heard the voices and advanced
              towards the loft in the form of a hollow square, or some
              other military figure, and overheard remarks which turned
              half his hair grey. He turned and fled to the police
              station, muttering a prayer as he ran. At the station he
              found the giant O’Driscoll, the genial Inspector Andrew of
              today, and told him a dreadful tale. O’Driscoll asked him
              if he would like them all hanged or merely admonished and
              discharged. Wilson wanted them all arrested before they
              set fire to his hay loft. O’Driscoll’s office was then in
              Adelaide Street, next to the old Wesleyan church. He took
              two policemen with him, and Wilson, in a cab, and the four
              started for the scene of operations. The night was dark
              and heavy rain was falling. O’Driscoll got a ladder, and
              climbed up to the loft, followed by Wilson. Both stepped
              inside, and O’Driscoll lighted a candle. The scene that
              presented itself turned the balance of Wilson’s hair grey.
              Lying on the hay were three very scantily dressed ladies,
              and three gentlemen wearing nothing, all sound asleep. One
              of the three “gentlemen” was an American black, whose dark
              skin contrasted conspicuously with the snow white limbs of
              his “lady,” who was said to be a splendid specimen of a
              woman. The scene in which she figured was one that could
              only be described in a language that no reader of “Truth”
              could understand. And all this in a clergyman’s hay loft!
              It was blasphemy, sacrilege, atheism, and – most
              unbecoming!
         
              The stern O’Driscoll was so shocked that he held on
              to a rafter to keep himself from falling out of the loft.
              Wilson clasped his hands and muttered, “Merciful God, what
              sons and daughters of Bekal are these?” Then duty called,
              and the warlike voice of the representative of
              O’Driscoll’s warrior race, woke the three brides and
              bridegrooms up in a hurry. 
         
              Seeing the colossal form of O’Driscoll standing
              over them, they at first took him for Beelzebub, and gave
              a yell that was heard at Sandgate! The ladies completed
              their toilet in record time, and the sad procession of six
              were marched down to the cells and locked up. They were
              brought up next day, and, after a severe reprimand,
              discharged. One of them was a humorist. He said they all
              went to the clergyman to get married, and as it was a wet
              night and rather late when they arrived, they did not like
              to disturb him before morning! There was necessarily a
              great future before that man, in fact he became in after
              years a Brisbane alderman, and what giddier height could
              any man attain?
         
              The bride of the dark gentleman settled in Albert
              Street, where she had a home for years, renowned for its
              hospitality to paying guests! Finally she captivated a
              well off gentleman from the bush, and he married her and
              took her home, and she became the mother of some very fine
              children, and was an exemplary wife. She had proved the
              truth of the adage that virtue is its own reward!
         
              To mention her descendants would be to heave a
              bombshell into a circle of some of Brisbane’s most select
              society, so we merely shed a tear and pass on to the next.
              It may be as well to mention, however, that Wilson’s
              yardman was responsible for the party in the hay loft.
              Wilson always said a short prayer when he thought of the
              horrors of that awful night.
         
              A well known son of that dear old clergyman married
              the widow of squatter Clapperton. She was originally a
              Miss Kendall, a very accomplished, fine girl, who was
              educated at the Brisbane Convent School.
         
              Graham Lloyd Hart was the three year old son of his
              well known father of that name, founder of the legal firm
              of Roberts and Hart, merged into Hart, Mein and Flower,
              then Hart and Flower, then Hart, Flower and Drury, and
              finally Flower and Hart. Hart was one of the directors in
              the troubled times of the Queensland National Bank. The
              child died on April 10, 1874.
         
                We omitted to mention that Irwin Maling, of the
                last chapter, was the Captain Maling who was private
                secretary to Lord Normanby. He was brother-in-law of
                General English, of the 53rd Regiment, the
                “Shropshire Dashers.” English married Maling’s sister.
“How bold the flight of
                Passion’s wandering wing,
How soft the step of
                Reason’s firmer trend,
How calm and sweet the
                victories of life,
How terrorless the triumphs
                of the grave.”
-Shelley
“ In death itself there can
                be nothing terrible, for the act of death annihilates
                sensation, but there are many roads to death, and some
                of then justly formidable, even to the bravest; but so
                various are the modes of going out of the world, that to
                have been born may have been a more painful thing than
                to die, and to live may be more troublesome than
                either.”
-Colton’s “Lacon.”
“Oh, God! It is a fearful
                thing
To see the human soul take
                wing,
In any shape, in any mood,
I’ve seen it rushing forth
                in blood,
I’ve seen it on the breaking
                ocean,
Strive with a swollen
                convulsive motion,
I’ve seen the sick and
                ghastly bed
Of sin delirious with its
                dread.”
-Byron.
    
              Among the un-recorded dead is a half caste named
              “Macinnon,” who died in 1869.  He was the
              son of an old pioneer “Paddy Macinnon,” who was out in
              1847 with McPherson, on Mount Abundance station, which he
              had taken up on Sir Thomas Mitchells’ description in 1846.
    
              Paddy was stockman for Macpherson, and is described
              as a wild character, who lived for years with the blacks.
              When the blacks finally drove Macpherson off the station,
              he gave Paddy all the stock that was left.
    
              In years afterwards, Paddy made periodical trips to
              Dalby or Drayton, with a small mob of fat cattle, and had
              a wild spree while the proceeds lasted.
    
              There was no Roma before 1862, in fact a sketch of
              it in 1864 shows a primitive settlement of half a dozen
              houses and the post office. Paddy had the usual platonic
              affection with an aboriginal lady, whose name was
              “Concern,” who bore him a son, the usual result of
              platonic affections that are prolonged beyond a reasonable
              limit, and when Paddy died at Forester’s public house on
              the Condamine in 1861, the boy, whose native name was
              “Wyreela,” passed into other hands, and finally reached
              Brisbane, where he died in 1869, aged 21 years, the cause
              of death being inflammation of the lungs. He is buried in
              the lowest part of the Church of England ground at
              Paddington.
    
              Buried near him, in the same month, was an old
              ex-convict named Tom Davis, who came out with the convict
              ship, Eudora, in 1838. After the vessel left Liverpool,
              someone confessed to committing the crime for which Davis
              was sentenced, and a pardon for him came out on the next
              ship. Davis worked on Captain Cadell’s steamer, the “Lady
              Auguste,” the first vessel that ever ascended the Murray.
              The Governor of South Australia, Sir Henry Young, was on
              board that pioneer ship. Davis also worked, in 1846, for
              the Tyson brothers, the afterwards well known Jimmy Tyson,
              and his brother, on some country they took up at the
              junction of the Lachlan and Murrumbidgee. Davis came to
              Brisbane in 1858, and went up to the disastrous Canoona
              gold rush, on the Fitzroy. He returned to Ben and was
              engaged by Murray Prior for Maroon station, where he
              remained for twelve months, and thence went to Toolburra,
              until October 1867, when Nash discovered gold. Davis went
              to Gympie, did well there for two years, prospected in the
              Bopple scrub, got fever there, came to Brisbane, and died
              in a friend’s home in Turbot Street. 
    
              He had a brother lost in the “Fiery Star,” burned
              at sea, on Good Friday, 1865.
“A restless impulse urged
                him to embark,
And meet lone death on the
                drear ocean’s waste.”
    
              Ella Lavinia, wife of Daniel Skyring, was the
              ancestress of all the Skyrings of the present day. Daniel
              owned all the land where All Hallows Convent stands, and
              used it chiefly as a pineapple garden, where he grew some
              of the best pines in the market. Likewise he owned, known
              as “Skyring’s quarries,” to the present time. While
              Skyring grew fine pineapples and grapes, his wife and two
              daughters had charge of a drapery establishment, the
              “Beehive” at the corner of Queen and Edward Streets, where
              Hunter’s boot shop is today. Dan Skyring, jun., had a
              dairy farm out at Kedron, and brought fresh milk to town.
              It was pure milk, as there were no poisonous
              “preservatives” in those days. Daniel junior and his
              brother Zechariah, went afterwards to reside at Gympie.
Old Mrs. Skyring died on July 27, 1863, aged 59, and the coffin was exhumed on March 26, 1882, and removed to the Toowong cemetery. On the tombstone we are told –
“Weep not for me, prepare
                to meet your God.”
    
              Mrs. Skyring is now buried in the Toowong cemetery,
              near Governor Blackall, and over her is a handsome
              monument. 
    
              Her son, George, in after years, was owner of
              Baffle Creek Station, where his first wife died. She was a
              Miss Waldron of Fortitude Valley. George died at Gympie,
              where he was at the time Inspector of Slaughter Houses. 
    
              Miss Waldron was a sister of Mrs. Steele, now widow
              of the late chemist Steele. She survived Steele, and at
              present resides at South Brisbane. Zechariah Skyring and
              his wife died within a week or two at Gympie. Daniel, who
              had the dairy at Kedron, married a Miss Payne, daughter of
              Thomas Payne, a once well known and much respected farmer
              at Oxley. He had four daughters, all handsome, fine
              specimens of women. One married William Dart, now
              orchardist on the Blackall, but at that time owner of
              Dart’s sugar mill, where the St. Lucia Estate is, on the
              Brisbane River. Another is the present Mrs. Reeves, of
              Toowong, and the fourth became Mrs. Elferson, of Gympie,
              now a resident of Gympie. Daniel Skyring is still alive,
              and residing retired on the North Coast. The Skyrings were
              one of the oldest Brisbane families.
    
              George Dudley Webb, who died on September 11, 1870,
              aged 70, was secretary and general manager of the A.U.S.N.
              Company. He and W. J. Costin, the chemist, were two men
              chosen by the shareholders of the Brisbane Permanent
              Building Society, in 1863, to audit the books. Alfred
              Slaughter was the manager of the company, and old Robert
              Cribb was one of the principal shareholders. Cribb bossed
              Slaughter and had a free and easy way of taking deeds away
              to his own office, and some were not returned. This gave
              the shareholders an idea that there was something wrong,
              and hence the audit by Webb and Costin. No one doubted old
              Bobbie Cribb’s honesty, but he had a loose style of doing
              business, and the auditors found it necessary to enter a
              protest. This made the old fellow very wild, and he
              assailed the auditors in great style, but they all
              survived. 
    
              One of Webb’s daughters, a girl named Alice, aged
              19, died on November 14, 1864. His son, Ernest Webb, was a
              well known man as Resident Secretary of the A.M.P.
              Society. He married a daughter of L. A. Bernays. Ernest
              was an enthusiast in boating, and was an active member of
              the rowing club. It is quite certain that Webb’s early
              death was attributable to chiefly to an unlucky
              speculation in Mount Morgan shares. He was one of the
              victims of Billy Pattison’s foolish bet of £10,000 that
              shares would reach £20.
    
              Webb bought heavily and found himself involved when
              shares were falling. The prospect of failure broke his
              heart in a few days after the receipt of the bad news.
    
              His brother, Harry Webb, went in for pastoral
              pursuits, on the Logan.
    
              Daniel Petersen, who died on January 21, 1855, aged
              46, was  a
              grocer and storekeeper, next McCabe’s wharf, South
              Brisbane. The business was continued by Petersen and
              Younger, the son and son-in-law. One of the sons was the
              afterwards well known Seth Petersen, who distinguished
              himself while in the position of Registrar in Brisbane,
              and in after years left for the south. One of his brothers
              was presiding at the recent Valley election.
    
              William and Ellen Scarr buried their only child at
              that time, on October 23, 1874. Scarr is now retired on
              pension, and resides at “Alsatia” on Dornoch Terrace,
              South Brisbane. He was father of Scarr, the footballer,
              who died recently from blood poisoning. Scarr senior had a
              brother prominent in racing, and as handicapper in New
              South Wales. Another brother, Frank Scarr, was a surveyor
              and land commissioner. A township was once surveyed on
              Bowen Downs, near Muttaburra, and called “Scarrbury,” in
              honor of Scarr, but the town never got beyond the name.
    
              A year old child named Moreton Bradley Lytton
              Hitchins died on February 25, 1876, his father being a
              clerk in the Post Office in the days of Salisbury, R. T.
              Scott, Crosby, and Lawry.
    
              A young fellow named William Ker Atchison, died in
              November 1868, aged only 27. He was a Customs agent, and a
              general favourite, but consumption ended his career in the
              morning of his days. In the words of Shelley he was
“A lovely youth, no mourning
                maiden decked,
The lone couch of his
                everlasting rest;
And virgins, as unknown he
                passed, have pined,
And wasted for fond love of
                his wild eyes.”
    
              In the north west corner of the Church of England
              portion, is an old timber getter, who was a cedar cutter
              on the Maroochy River, at the time of a remarkable tragedy
              in that locality. The timber getters were all in camp on
              Sunday, and there was a wild unholy revel on over proof
              rum. This began on Saturday, and continued over Sunday.
              One man, a big, powerful fellow, took rather too much rum,
              divesting himself of all his clothes, and started to chase
              the wife of one of the other men. She ran into the hut,
              got the husband’s gun, and ran to another hut, the rum
              maddened man in pursuit. She met him at the corner of the
              hut face to face and fired, the charge of No 2 shot
              striking him in the stomach. In three minutes he was dead.
              It was a dramatic and tragical scene!
    
              At the same camp, some of the blacks who were
              working for the cedar cutters were also given an excessive
              share of rum, and three of them went to sleep on the beach
              at low tide. The rum had paralysed them to such an extent
              that even the rising tide failed to rouse them, so they
              were all drowned, and their three dead bodies were found
              close together on the beach next morning. The other blacks
              took them away and probably ate them, as they would not
              regard rum as a poison. In after years it was said that
              beach was haunted, and there were men who declared they
              saw the mad cedar getter racing round among the trees, and
              the drowned blacks walking on the sand. Others said they
              saw the ghost of Stevens, the botanist, who was murdered
              by the blacks in 1866, at the “Dead Man’s Waterhole,” near
              Mooloolah. The rum in those days was good, and men saw
              nothing worse than ghosts. With the rum of today men see
              nothing but devils, a specially ferocious class of devils
              with iron teeth, arms like those of an octopus, and the
              green and yellow eyes of a crocodile.
    
              Gilbert Elliott Gore was a child buried on May 30,
              1875. This child was evidently named from Gilbert Elliott,
              the first Speaker in the first Queensland Parliament. He
              was proposed by St. George R. Gore, seconded by
              Macalister, and chosen unanimously.
    
              The original Gores took up Yandilla and Tummaville
              stations on the Downs in the early forties. One of these,
              Robert Gore, and his wife, Mary and child were drowned in
              the wreck of the steamer, Sovereign, outside the South
              Passage, at Moreton Island, on the 11th of
              March, 1847. The Gore best known in Brisbane was Ralph
              Gore, who was for years Immigration Agent, and Visiting
              Justice at St. Helena and Dunwich. He married a daughter
              of E. I. C. Browne M.L.C., of the legal firm of Little and
              Browne. One of Morehead’s jokes referred to this firm
              which he called the “Snipe lawyers,” as “the snipe is
              little and brown, with an absurdly long bill.” They had
              done some work for Morehead and the bill made him gasp for
              breath.
When Gore died, his widow resided for some time in their old home at New Farm. During a voyage to the old country with Captain Withers, of the Quetta, she and that giddy mariner, contracted a platonic friendship of the kind common among sea captains, and he deserted his wife to fly with his new found love, forgetting his wife as the false
“Theseus once in Dia forgot
                his beautiful haired Ariadne.”
    
              Old Browne, M.L.C., was a wealthy man, and chief
              owner of the “Courier.” His share went to Mrs. Gore, who
              is today chief owner of that journal. Of course, Captain
              Withers was aware of Mrs. Gore’s financial position, but
              captains are never influenced by considerations of wealth.
              They invariably marry for pure love, and live the simple
              life – when there is no chance of any other variety.
    
              Ralph Gore inherited a title, and was Sir Ralph at
              the time of his death. This title is now borne by his
              eldest son, who is an officer in the army. There were two
              other children who are said to be still alive, and the
              infant “Gilbert Elliott” in the Paddington cemetery.
    
              William Holbrook, who died on January 15, 1870,
              aged 36, was a young man employed as jeweler by Flavelle
              Brothers and Roberts, of that date, and the neat headstone
              was erected “as a token of respect by the employees” of
              that firm.
    
                Harry Dobbin Shepperson was the two year old son
                of Harry and Mary Shepperson, and died on September 11,
                1870. There is also a son who lived only for one day.
                This is the Harry Shepperson, a stationer, who has been
                previously mentioned as the gay Lothario who fled with
                the giddy actress, though some old colonists fiercely
                affirm that Buxton was the faithless man who deserted
                his wife to browse on fresh theatrical fields and
                pastures new. However, but for these “Bygone”
                reminiscences, the loves and hates of all parties
                concerned would be as a tale that was told by some
                unrecorded narrator in a long forgotten age.
They are gone,
And others come, so flows
                the wave on wave,
Of what these mortals call
                Eternity;
Deeming themselves the
                breakers of the ocean,
While they are but the
                bubbles, ignorant
That foam is their
                formation.
Byron
So peaceful shall thou end
                thy blissful days,
And steal thyself from life
                by slow decays,
Unknown to pain in age
                resign thy breath,
When late stern Neptune
                points the shaft with death,
To the dark grave retiring
                as to rest,
Thy people blessing, by thy
                people blessed!
-Homer’s “Odyssey.”
“Tis a long, ‘tis a last,
                ‘tis a beautiful rest,
When all sorrow has passed
                from the brow and the breast,
And the lone spirit truly
                and wisely may crave,
The sleep that is dreamless,
                the sleep of the grave.
-Eliza Cook
On July 1, 1873, a Scottish visitor, traveling for
              his health, died in Brisbane. His name was John Howie, and
              he died at the age of 50. The stone over his grave was
              placed there by his nephew James Isles, whose mother was a
              Miss Howie. James Isles came to Queensland in 1862, and in
              1866 he and Tom Finney bought out the drapery business of
              T. F. Merry in Fortitude Valley. They continued that
              business there until 1870, when they removed to the cornet
              of Queen and Edward Streets, where the original title of
              the firm is retained by the widely known Finney, Isles and
              Co., of today, now fronting Edward and Adelaide Streets,
              and withdrawn from their old Queen Street corner.
    
              James Isles was a true type of old Caledonia’s
              sons, and the physical vigor of his race was transmitted
              to his own five sons, all of whom were champion athletes,
              whose performances are recorded in Perry and Carmichael’s
              “Athletic Queensland.” The well known J. T. Isles, of
              Isles, Love and Co., among other performances, won the 440
              yards Footballers’ Handicap in 1888. In 1887 he won the
              150 yards handicap and the 440 yards handicap.
    
              Very sad was the untimely death of Willy Isles, one
              of the brothers, at an early age, the cause being
              peritonitis 
..(text missing) ."Fisherman’s Island was a dreary
              place, a patch of earth, a desert of mud, a sea of water.
              The quantity of driftwood was surprising, and the
              multitudes of centipedes truly alarming. At first we had
              some quantity of green grass, but A. C. Gregory’s
              exploring party landed and cut it all for their horses on
              board ship. We had to pull several miles to the muddy
              waterhole for every drop of brackish water we had. James
              strained mine through all sorts of things, but it never
              lost its muddy look and flavor. Influenza, fever, and ague
              were bad amongst us, and were only indifferently combated
              by quinine and strong brandy and water.”
    
              The James mentioned by Grundy was a James Morton,
              afterwards killed by the blacks at Manumbah station. In
              1847 he had two mates killed beside him by the blacks, on
              the Clarence. His own turn came afterwards. Grundy said
              Morton had a mortal fear of blacks. His brother, Charley
              Morton, was either a first or second mate on the
              Boomerang, and he died suddenly one night at Mercer’s
              Hotel at Kangaroo Point, and was buried at Paddington.
    
              John Cook was a chemist in the Valley, the only
              chemist there 55 years ago, and his business was
              afterwards purchased by W. T. Costin, the present veteran
              Valley chemist, the oldest now in Queensland. Cook, the
              old time pill pounder, sleeps in the Paddington cemetery.
              Perhaps his soul is proscribing a teaspoonful of Celestial
              nectar, some ambrosial nepenthe, to angels with a “tired
              feeling” in the Elysian fields. And we may be sure it is
              “a tablespoon three times a day.”
    
              John Pound, who died on July 14, 1875, aged 55, was
              father of Jonathan Pound, whose son is the present
              chairman of the Southport Shire Council. Jonathan is still
              in robust health, and owns a lot of property on the shores
              of the south end of Moreton Bay.
On August 8, 1868, a German named F. M. Raaaba, was buried, aged 57. In the year 1856, a German family of that name came to Brisbane in the ship Helena. One of the sons, a boy aged 13, named Charles, became, in after years, a prominent resident of Maryborough, where he finally settled in 1875, after years of teamster work to and from the stations on the Burnett. From team driving he went to hotel business, and kept the Royal Exchange Hotel, in Adelaide Street. In 1894, he became an alderman, and has been a good and useful citizen. Will some Maryborough man kindly write and say what became of him.
    
              George Hall, who died on October 18, 1855, aged 31,
              was a clerk in the firm of Christopher Newton Brothers of
              Sydney. He came to Brisbane for the benefit of his health,
              and added one more to the victims of consumption.
    
              It was usual in those early days for consumptive
              people to come north in the hope of recovering in the
              climate of Moreton Bay, but they were usually in too
              advanced a stage.
    
              Among the old time shepherds buried at Paddington,
              was Harry Brown, who was shepherding on Burrandowan
              station, in 1855, when it was owned by Phillip Friell and
              Gordon Sandeman, who bought it from the first owner, Henry
              Stewart Russell, who took it up in 1843, the first station
              on the Burnett. Several shepherds and hotel-keepers were
              killed on Burrandowan, and Harry Brown was speared through
              the side. Shepherding was a dangerous occupation for the
              first twenty years on the Burnett and Mary. Brown finally
              died at Brisbane in 1861, while in the service of the
              first “Brisbane Club,” which had only started the previous
              year, the first meeting to organize having been held in
              the office of D. F. Roberts. The first ballot for member
              was held on March 1, 1860, and the first club room was on
              the premises of W. A. Brown, the sheriff, in Mary Street.
              The first committee included Sheppard Smith, of the Bank
              of New South Wales, E. S. Elsworth of the A. J. S. Bank,
              and Nehemiah Bartley. They drafted the rules and engaged
              the first servants, among whom was Harry Brown, who never
              quite recovered from that Burrandowan spear wound.
    
              Since Brown’s time, the modest pioneer club, in the
              one room in Mary Street, has grown into the Queensland
              Club, housed today in the palatial building facing the
              Gardens and Parliament House.
    
              A girl named Sarah Ann Pratten died in 1859, aged
              23, the age – from 23 to 26 – fatal to so many young women
              in the early days. Miss Pratten was an aunt of F. L.
              Pratten, present Deputy 
              Registrar of Titles in Brisbane. Her father, the
              granddad of the present Prattens, came to Brisbane in the
              forties, and was farming at Cowper’s Plains, today
              erroneously called “Cooper’s Plains,” though named after
              Dr. Cowper, the first medical officer in the convict
              settlement at Moreton Bay. Pratten senior died at the
              Plains and was buried there. His son was one of the
              pioneer surveyors of what is now Queensland, and did much
              useful work on the Darling Downs, Maranoa, and elsewhere.
    
              He married a sister of R. S. Warry, once a
              prominent Brisbane merchant, and she became the mother of
              six sons and three daughters. One of the girls married a
              son of the late Rev. J. H. Hassall; one married Leslie
              Tooth, grandson of W. B. Tooth, who was one of the
              pioneers of Wide Bay, the present Maryborough district. He
              was a brother of Atticus Tooth, who came from Kent in
              1839, as a cousin of the famous brewing Tooths of Sydney.
              He and W. B. Tooth took up Wide Bay stations from which
              John Bales had been driven by the blacks. I n 1856,
              Atticus Tooth held a station on the Mary River, including
              the present site of Gympie, and had ten thousand sheep
              there, but a wet season, extending over several months,
              drove him elsewhere, and he married, in 1869, a daughter
              of D. R. Emmerson, of Bowen, and became one of the first
              squatters in the Port Denison district.
    
              Four of G. L. Pratten’s sons are alive today, and
              the three daughters still survive, two married and one
              single. Harry Pratten is in the Bank of New South Wales,
              at Rockhampton, George in the Railway Department, Paul in
              the General Post Office, and F. L. Pratten is Deputy
              Registrar of Titles. The well known Tom Pratten, late
              secretary in the railway head office, died recently, and
              Arthur was killed in Bundaberg by falling over a balcony
              when walking in his sleep. The present Mrs. Pratten,
              mother of these sons, was a sister of Dr. Hugh Bell’s
              wife. Their brother, R. S. Warry, started business in
              Queen Street about the year 1853, and in the year, 1862,
              erected what was then the best building in Queensland, a
              large brick store next the Royal Hotel afterwards the
              first office of the Queensland National Bank. He had two
              brothers, Tom and Charles, both chemists, one in Brisbane,
              and one in Ipswich, and both died at an early age. Tom was
              a practical joker of an unusual type, and a gruesome tale
              describes the most remarkable of his performances. He
              invited the principal citizens to a special dinner,
              presumably in honor of his birthday, or his grandmother’s
              death, or his best girl coming of age, or an imaginary
              legacy left to him by his uncle in Spitzbergen. In the
              centre of the table was a large, round dish under a cover.
              “I think,” said this peculiar joker, “that we better start
              on the principal dish,” and he raised the cover to reveal
              the fresh head of an aboriginal, who had been hanged that
              morning! It was garnished like a ham, with frilled pink
              paper, and the thick mass of black hair had a dozen
              rosebuds inserted here and there. The company first gasped
              for breath, and then some of them fell over the backs of
              their chairs. Others fell over the doorstep rushing
              outside, and two fainted. A bombshell could not have
              scattered that dinner party more effectually. It was Tom
              Warry’s champion joke. He had induced the authorities to
              give him the head for scientific purposes, and he
              explained afterwards that this was in order to settle the
              great physiological problem of how fright affects various
              types of men! But Brisbane citizens were clean “off” Tom’s
              dinner parties forevermore. 
    
              Warry senior, father of all the Warrys, died at the
              age of 78, as the final result of a fall between a steamer
              and the wharf. One of his daughters married a Dr. Barton,
              and when he died, she married Dr. Hugh Bell. One of her
              daughters, by Dr. Barton, is the wife of the Hon. Albert
              Norton, M.L.C., and the other, who is still single,
              resides with her sister.
    
                One final anecdote of Tom Warry’s frivolity. He
                got about a dozen boys into his shop one day and painted
                all their faces in about twelve different colours, then
                sent them home looking like the broken tail of a
                rainbow. The sky blue, and the bright red, and the rich
                bronze boys, are well known citizens of Brisbane today.
 
“One fond kiss and then we
                sever,
One farewell, alas, for
                ever!
Deep in heart wrong tears
                I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans
                I’ll wage thee,
Me, -no cheerful twinkle
                lights me,
Dark despair around benights
                me.”
-Burns
“Thy day without a cloud
                hath passed,
And thou wert lovely to the
                last;
Extinguished, not decayed;
As stars that shoot along
                the sky,
Shine brightest as they fall
                from high.”
-Byron
“Lo! Where this silent
                marble weeps,
A friend, a wife, a mother
                sleeps;
A heart within whose sacred
                cell
The peaceful virtues loved
                to dwell.
-Gray
“So softly death succeeded
                life in her,
She did but dream of Heaven,
                and she was there,
No pains she suffered, nor
                expired with guise,
Her soul was whispered out
                with God’s still voice.”
-Dryden
An interesting historical character is James
              Charles Burnett, who died on July 18, 1854, aged 39. He
              was the oldest surviving son of William Burnett, of
              “Burnettland,” on the Hunter River, and he entered the
              service of the Survey Department in Sydney in 1834, when
              only 15 years of age. In 1842 he was deemed capable of
              conducting a general examination of the Great Dividing
              Range, which he followed to the 30th parallel
              and then came on to Brisbane. He was afterwards engaged on
              surveys on the Clarence and Richmond, and returned to
              Moreton Bay and did so much useful and excellent work that
              he was held in the highest esteem by his department, and
              by Governor Sir Charles Fitzroy, who requested that his
              name be given to the Burnett River, and that was done.
              Burnett had named the Fitzroy River in honor of Sir
              Charles, who repaid the compliment by requesting that
              Burnett’s name be given to the famous Burnett River, on
              which Bundaberg and Gayndah stand today. 
    
              Burnett, like most men in those pioneer days, died
              at an early age, and was buried in the Church of England
              cemetery at Paddington, there being a large funeral at
              which the Rev. Robert Creyke officiated.
    
              Shortly after his death, his horses were sold by
              auctioneer Bulgin, father of the late somewhat eccentric
              “Lord Bulgin,” well known to Brisbaneites. The sale will
              show the value of horses at that time. A bay colt sold for
              £14, a bay horse for £17, a grey colt for £36, a brown
              draught mare for £43, and grey draught for £35, and a
              solitary mule for £11. 
    
              There was much talk about a tablet to his memory,
              but so far we have not seen it, unless it is among the
              fallen and broken stones. The erection of a tablet or
              small monument to the memory of Burnett would come
              gracefully from a subscription among the people on the
              Burnett River. 
    
              He was one of the men who made Queensland history
              in the old, wild, rough, days, when life was very
              different from that of the present.
    
              Arthur Henry Garbutt, of Stockton-on-Tees, and Jane
              his wife, recall an old time Garbutt family who lived at
              Coorpooroo, where Thomas C. Garbutt owned a large area of
              land. He was the man who named Coorpooroo, a word which is
              sadly mispronounced, being always called “Coorparoo,”
              whereas “Coorpooroo Jaggin” was the name of the South
              Brisbane tribe of aboriginals, who pronounced the word
              Coor-poo-roo with accent on the second syllable.
    
              Garbutt’s widow married a Dr. Temple, who practiced
              in Brisbane and died here. After old Garbutt’s death, his
              horse and buggy were bought by P. R. Gardon, the genial
              old Caledonian, ex-Inspector of Stock. The horse was a
              dark chestnut, afterwards owned by Robert Gray, the once
              well known Under Colonial Secretary, and finally Railway
              Commissioner, whose first wife was a daughter of Dr.
              Dorsey, of Ipswich, and sister of the wife of the late Sir
              Joshua Peter Bell. One of Garbutt’s sons, and brother of
              the one who died at Cleveland, was squatting for a time on
              the Logan. This was the F. O. Garbutt, who in after years
              held a station property in the Herberton district, where
              he finally kept a hotel at the Coolgarra Hot Springs. He
              was a big, powerful, specimen of a man. About 25 years
              ago, he and the present writer entered what is now the
              York Hotel. Garbutt had a misunderstanding with some
              aggressive person who had several friends present and
              while he was engaged in a go-as-you-please combat with the
              man in front, he was assailed by two of the man’s friends
              in the rear. This made it necessary for us to take prompt
              action, and Garbutt and “we” cleared that private bar in
              one of the shortest times on record. One victim wrote to
              the “Telegraph,” to ask whether a Queensland magistrate
              who had broken two of his ribs in a bar room was a
              suitable man to hold a Commission of the Peace? No name
              was mentioned, but he referred to “we,” and there was no
              more about the little episode.
    
              When Garbutt left the Logan to go north, he was
              accompanied by Robertson, an old Logan squatter, who
              afterwards took up Wyroona station on the Wild River, a
              tributary of the Mitchell. Garbutt is now hotel keeper at
              Mount Molloy.
    
              Paulus Bront was a German seaman on board the
              steamer Shamrock, an old time steamer that ran to Sydney
              from Brisbane in the days when the small steamers Hawk,
              Swallow, and Bremer, built by Taylor Winship, ran from
              Brisbane to Ipswich. The first was the Experiment, built
              by James Canning Pearce.
    
              Winship, in those days, had a fine garden and
              orangery, from where the present Palace Hotel is along the
              river west to the baths and the North Quay Ferry at South
              Brisbane. Paulus Bront, on June 26, 1854, was walking
              ashore from the steamer on a plank, fell off, and was
              drowned, as scores of men have been since then to the
              present time, at the Brisbane wharves.
    
              The Swallow, of Winship, and the Experiment, of
              Pearce, sank at the wharves in the river, the Swallow
              drowning her steward as previously mentioned.
    
              In a Doncaster cemetery is the following quaint
              epitaph on two brothers:
“Here lyeth two brothers by
                misfortune surrounded,
One died of his wounds and
                the other was drowned.”
    
              Charles Thomas Clay and his wife Elizabeth, buried
              a five years’ old child on July 31, 1872. Clay was a clerk
              in the Lands Office in Brisbane, but he got an appointment
              in the Agent General’s Office in London and left
              Queensland.
    
              The second daughter of Montague Stanley, R.S.A.,
              died on June 24, 1864, aged 22. Stanley, as the R.S.A.,
              indicates, was a member of the Royal Society of Artists,
              and practised his profession in Edinburgh. He was,
              perhaps, the first professional artist whose family came
              to Brisbane, and two of his sons became well known men in
              Queensland. One was F. D. G. Stanley, the Government
              Architect, who designed a great number of our public
              buildings, including Parliament House and the Supreme
              Court, and the other was for many years Engineer for
              Railways, connected with the department from the time the
              first section of a Queensland railway was made in 1864,
              from Ipswich to the Little Liverpool Range, a distance of
              21 miles, by Peto, Brassey and Betts, whose tender was for
              £86,900, or £4,000 a mile. The first Victorian railway
              cost £38,000 per mile, South Australia £28,000, and New
              South Wales £40,000.
    
              The Queensland line from Ipswich to Dalby, crossing
              the Liverpool and main ranges, cost £10,600.
    
              Engineer Stanley, son of artist Stanley, was a
              capable man, whose integrity was never questioned. The
              first Queensland railways were by far the cheapest and
              most substantial of all the first Australian tracks, and
              all constructed since under Stanley or Ballard have held a
              deservedly high reputation.
    
              Montague Stanley, the artist, never came to
              Queensland! He died at Rothsay, in Scotland, but his sons
              came to Queensland, and the mother and the rest of the
              family followed. H. C. Stanley, the engineer, has four
              sons and four daughters one of whom, Pearlie Stanley,
              married Victor Drury, the solicitor, now practicing at
              Dalby.
    
              Architect F. D. G. Stanley had three sons and four
              daughters. His son, M. T. Stanley married Mary McIlwraith,
              daughter of Sir Thomas, and her sister Jessie married a
              Mr. Gostling, now residing at Sherwood. M. T. Stanley is
              an architect, his brother Ronald is in the Commissioner
              for Railways Office. One of H. C. Stanley’s sons, also H.
              C., is now in Townsville, and another son, Talbot, is in
              charge of the Gayndah extension. A son of F. D. G.
              Stanley, who died some years ago, is an Inspector in the
              Works Office. H. C. Stanley, senior, was recently on a
              visit to Brisbane, which he left last Tuesday. He has an
              office in Sydney and a branch in Brisbane.
    
              A man named George Perrin, said to be a descendant
              of that Perrin who fought the heavy weight, bare handed
              battle with Johnson, back in the eighteenth century, is
              buried in the Church of England cemetery. Perrin was one
              of the stockmen on Burrandowan, when that station was held
              by Philip Friell, and Gordon Sandeman, who bought it from
              Stuart Russell, author of the “Genesis of Queensland.”
    
              Friell was a man with a remarkable history, which
              would make interesting reading, but would require at least
              a chapter  for
              itself. It is enough here to say that he died of heart
              disease on board the steamer Argo, off Cape Horn, on
              September 17, 1853, aged 48. He was a son of Captain
              Friell, who was killed in India, while a captain in the
              Duke of Wellington’s Own Regiment. Friell’s life was saved
              on Burrandowan by George Perrin. Friell was asleep under a
              tree, holding the reins of his bridle, and Perrin was
              lying face downwards about 20 yards away with his gun
              beside him. Hearing a slight noise, he raised his head in
              time to see a tall black close to Friell, and just poising
              a brigalow hand spear to drive through him. Perrin acted
              promptly, and the black fell dead with his head within
              three yards of Friell, who awoke with great celerity.
    
              Perrin was one of the typical bushmen at the dinner
              given to the Duke of Edinburgh, in Brisbane, in 1868. The
              ball to the Duke was given in Christopher Newton and Co.’s
              store, in Eagle Street. At the dinner the Duke proposed
              the toast of “The Ladies.” Perrin, just for fun, dined as
              he would have dined in a shepherd’s hut. He cut his bread
              in his hand, and used his knife as a fork, drank his tea
              out of the saucer, with a noise like a cow drinking the
              last water out of a puddle, and asked a horrified swell
              opposite to “Chuck us over the mustard mate!”
    
              Another joker, one of the Coomera River Brinsteads,
              saw the humour of the situation, and posed as the wild
              timbergetter.
    
              He and Perrin caused a lot of amusement, and even
              the Duke had to smile. Perrin died in 1869, and was buried
              during heavy rain. Even the grave was half filled with
              water running down from the side of the ridge. Some grimly
              humorous bushman remarked “If some rum were mixed with
              that water it would agree better with old George!”
    
              Perrin had married an immigrant girl, a most
              cantankerous person, who gave him an awful time, but one
              day she was bitten by a black snake and died within an
              hour. George afterwards said that the snake died first! In
              a Devonshire cemetery is the following epitaph-
“Margery, wife of Gideon
                Bligh,
Underneath this stone doth
                lie,
Nought was she e’er known to
                do,
That her husband told her
                to.”
That would have suited Mrs. Perrin’s gravestone,
              also, we grieve to say, a lot of other ladies’ monuments.
    
              Henry George Morris, who died in1865, was a son of
              the wife of Judge Lutwyche, by her first husband, whose
              name was Morris. Harry was a young man of only 25 when he
              died from the effects of some gastric trouble, contracted
              when on a visit to Kedron Brook. A fall over a stump
              aggravated the trouble, in fact was supposed to be the
              fatal agent, and he died on the following day. His sister,
              Miss Morris, step-daughter of Judge Lutwyche, is now the
              wife of A. G. Vaughan, the well known Government Printer.
    
              Judge Lutwyche after whom the Brisbane suburb was
              named, invariably treated Miss Morris with all the
              consideration he could have given his own daughter and
              recognised her as such in his will.
    
              Paul Lyons Burke, who died on August 26, 1868, aged
              35, was secretary of the Brisbane Hospital and a prominent
              member of the Masonic body, who gave him a Masonic
              funeral.
    
                In the Paddington cemetery is an old pioneer, who
                came out in the early days on a free passage, and went
                to the “Government boarding house” at Port Macquarie in
                the time when old Colonel Gray was boss of that
                reformatory, the same Colonel who was father of Robert
                Gray, who died as Queensland Commissioner for Railways,
                and who, as Under Secretary in the Home Office, is still
                kindly remembered by the old officers of that
                department. We shall call the free passage pioneer John
                Brown. He takes us back to the days when old Panton
                built George Thorn’s house at Ipswich, and kept a store
                there; when William Hendren returned as member for
                Bulimba, in 1878, had a draper’s shop opposite where
                Cribb and Foote are today, and William Vowles had the
                Horse and Jockey Hotel, kept in after years by Thompson.
                Vowles was grandfather of Solicitor Vowles, who
                contested Dalby at the last election with Joey Bell, and
                was for many years an alderman of Ipswich. He was a
                Devonshire man, who annually imported a cask of cider,
                and invited his friends to “come and join.” Present
                writer drank that cider for three years. John Brown was
                groom at Vowles’ Hotel, and Vowles sent him to Brisbane
                on horseback on a special message. At the One Mile
                Swamp, now called Woolloongabba, Brown’s horse threw him
                against a tree, and killed him, and he was buried at
                Paddington.
Sweet is true love though
                given in vain, in vain;
And sweet is Death who puts
                an end to pain:
I know not which is sweeter,
                no, not I
Love, art thou sweet! Than
                bitter death must be;
Love, thou art bitter; sweet
                be death to me.
O Love, if death be sweeter,
                let me die.
Sweet love, that seems not
                made to fade away,
Sweet death that seems to
                make us loveless clay.
I know not which is sweeter,
                no not I.
I fain would follow love, if
                that could be;
I needs must follow death,
                who calls for me;
Call and I follow, I follow!
                Let me die.
-“Elaine’s Song” –
                  Tennyson
    
              A young man named Robert Mauley died on February
              14, 1855, aged 23. This rather rare name was once famous
              among the warriors of a past age. In Scott’s “Lord of the
              Isles,” is the following passage, giving some of the
              English knights who fought under Edward at Bannockburn.
“Ross, Montague, and Mauley
                came,
And Courtney’s pride and
                Percy’s fame;
Names known too well in
                Scotland’s war
At Falkirk, Methven and
                Dunbar,
Blazed broader yet in after
                years
At Cressy red and fell
                Poitiers.”
It may be that the youth in the Paddington cemetery had some of the blood of those old warrior ancestors.
    
              A man named George Arthur Smith died on March 24,
              1868. Smith came to Victoria in 1861, in a ship called the
              Donald Mackay, which on the same trip brought out the late
              Bishop Quinn, and Dr. Cani, who afterwards became Bishop
              of Central Queensland. Also the well known surveyor P O
              'Kelly, of Maryborough, a fine old Irish gentleman, a boy
              of the olden time, who arrived there on January 1, 1863,
              the year in which no rain fell for ten months, followed by
              a wet season of four months. George Smith was a ganger on
              the railway, when the tunnel was being cut through the
              Little Liverpool Range, and afterwards a sub-contractor
              under John Gibbons, a contractor who gave his name to
              “Gibbon’s camp,” known as such for many years on the
              Toowoomba railway line.
    
              Gibbons was once partner with Randall in railway
              and building contracts in New South Wales and the well
              known “Randall’s Terrace” of nine houses in Newtown, in
              Sydney, bears Randall’s name as the builder and first
              owner. House no 9 had the credit of being haunted.
    
              Smith was injured in a premature blast on the
              railway, and was brought to the Brisbane hospital, where
              he died, aged 47. John Gibbons had a stone erected over
              his grave, but it is amongst those that are smashed.
              Gibbon’s widow in after years married Detective Sergeant
              McGlone, who came from Sydney to Queensland, and arrested
              Frank Gardiner, the bushranger, at Apia Creek, on the road
              to Clermont where he was living under the name of
              Christie, and had a small store and butcher’s shop.
    
              An old time honored Queensland pioneer family are
              recalled by the graves of John Edmund and William
              Alexander, two children of John and Margaret Hardgrave.
              The first was the third son, who died on October 30, 1860,
              aged a year and a half, and the other died 11 days
              afterwards at the age of five and a half. He was the first
              son. The late John Hardgrave was born in Louth, and
              educated in Dublin. His wife, who survives him, was a Miss
              Blair, a very handsome woman, who was born at Ballymeena,
              in Ireland, within 50 yards of the house in which General
              White was born, and after the death of her parents came to
              Queensland with her uncle Reed (afterwards engineer of the
              steamer Hawk), in 1849, and was married six months
              afterwards to John Hardgrave. The young couple at first
              resided in one of three brick cottages built up in the
              convict days as residences for the officials, and situated
              where Ned Sheridan’s shop is today, near the Longreach
              Hotel, where the convict workshop and lumber yard stood in
              those old wild days. The soldier’s barracks were on the
              corner  now
              occupied by the Geological Museum. One of the brick
              cottages was afterwards fixed up as the first Church of
              England in what is now Queensland. Mrs. Hardgrave saw that
              church opening by the Bishop of Newcastle, she attended
              there for fifty years and then saw it pulled down. How
              many people go to church for 50 years?
    
              She had five sons and three daughters, including
              the two boys who died 47 years ago, and one daughter, Mrs.
              Campbell, who died recently. John Hardgrave, who died last
              year, was one of Brisbane’s best known men, and one of the
              most respected. At death he was chairman of the Board of
              Waterworks, a position he held for many years.
    
              Among the graves is a son of the Rev. Thomas Jones,
              a schoolboy, who was a great favourite. On the day of the
              funeral the scholars of St. John’s school would not allow
              the coffin to be placed on the hearse. They formed relay
              parties and carried it all the way to the cemetery.
    
              There too, is the son of John Scott, who was once
              Chairman of Committees, and lived for many years in the
              house at Milton, close to the railway cutting on the north
              side of the station.
    
              Near him, in the old house on the hill, in what was
              “Walsh’s Paddock”, lived the redoubtable Henry Walsh,
              father of the beauteous “Coojee,” and once Speaker of the
              House. Beyond Scott, at Auchenflower, lived Sir Thomas
              McIlwraith, and within 50 yards of the brewery was “Papa”
              Pinnock, P.M. When the famous “Steel Rail” discussion was
              raging, a railway guard was promptly sacked for calling to
              the driver to call at “Steel Rails!”
    
              Ann Eliza Young, a girl of 16, died in 1874. Her
              father was a Chinese settler who was once a clerk in the
              old firm of J. and G. Harris, and afterwards ferryman
              between North and South Brisbane from the present Queen’s
              Wharf at the foot of Russell Street. He married a woman of
              good family, her brother having an interest in the firm of
              R. Towns and Co. Young was a cook on her father’s station.
    
              One of Young’s sons, Ernest, was for a time teacher
              in the South Brisbane school, and another kept a fish shop
              for some time in Melbourne Street, near Gray Street. A
              daughter, Katie Young, a good looking girl, was for years
              with a firm of storekeepers in Boundary Street, then
              married a son of Benjamin Babbidge, once Mayor of
              Brisbane, had two children, and died of typhoid fever. Old
              Young and his wife still reside in South Brisbane.
    
              Jane Orr, who died on March 15, 1863, aged 58, was
              wife of a Constable Orr of that period, and mother of
              three daughters and a son. The daughter Maggie became the
              wife of Peter Phillips, the present day tailor, and her
              sister Jane, who remained single, still resides in
              Boundary Street, near Vulture Street. Her sister Phoebe
              and the brother died long ago. Constable Orr on one
              occasion was escorting some prisoners to Sydney. The
              steamers in those days called at Newcastle, and while
              there it appears that Orr’s vigilance was relaxed long
              enough to allow the prisoners to escape, and as a result
              of that he left the police force.
    
              Very sad was the drowning of a handsome young
              fellow who was a nephew of Dr. Simpson, who had charge of
              the Government stock at Redbank. The nephew was an only
              son of Dr. Simpson’s sister, who was a widow in the old
              country. The doctor sent for this nephew to come out and
              stay with him, intending to make him a present of
              “Wolston” of which Dr. Simpson was the first owner. The
              nephew, who was only 27 years of age, was crossing the
              river from Wolston to the coal pits, the boat capsized,
              and he was drowned. This was a cruel blow to Dr. Simpson,
              who soon afterwards sold Wolston to the late Matthew
              Goggs, and went to England.
    
              A sister of Goggs married Captain Coley, who was
              once Sergeant-at-Arms, and died by his own hand in the
              small cottage still standing in George Street, near Harris
              Terrace. One of his daughters was married to C. B. Dutton,
              once Minister for Lands.
    
              James Fleming, who died on March 7, 1872, aged 55,
              is said to have been the squatter who once held Burenda
              station, on the Warrego.
    
              Jane Campbell, who died on May 22, 1866, aged 29,
              was the wife of Constable Alexander Campbell, who at the
              time was stationed with a detachment of Native Police at
              Humpybong. Governor Bowen was there on a visit on the day
              Mrs. Campbell died.
    
              Rosina Cox, who died on April 17, 1873, aged 29,
              was the youngest daughter of Sarah and William Cox. Cox
              was a warder in the gaol, and died within the last two
              years.
    
              Joseph William Saville, who died on March 5, 1869,
              aged 36, was a groom employed in Duncan McLennan’s livery
              stables, and he was thrown from his horse and killed in
              George Street.
    
              Richard H. Watson, who died on May 5, 1868, aged
              61, was the builder of the Commercial Hotel, in Edward
              Street, and kept a boarding house near there. One of his
              sons was afterwards the well-known Watson, the plumber,
              who became one of the mayors of Brisbane.
    
              Thomas Palmer, who died on July 12, 1867, aged 60,
              was one of the two brothers who started a ginger beer and
              cordial factory beside the present police court.
    
              From the Palmers the business passed into the hands
              of one who was then in their service, the well-known
              Marchant of the present day.
    
              Isabella Thomasena Deacon Ferguson was a child of a
              year and 10 months, and died on September 18, 1865, the
              mother being a sister of John Petrie, and aunt of the
              present Toombul Petrie. She was the wife of the late
              Inspector of Works, Ferguson, one of the biggest men in
              Queensland, and with a heart to match. Among his numerous
              works he superintended the erection of the lighthouse on
              Sandy Cape in 1872, when the blacks carried all the
              material and rations from the beach to the top of the sand
              hill, 315 feet in height, exactly the same height as the
              hill on which the Double Island lighthouse stands. Bob was
              a giant with a giant’s strength. One night in Mrs.
              McGregor’s Hotel in Rockhampton, the same grand old
              Highland woman who afterwards kept the Great Northern
              Hotel in Cooktown, an aggressive Hibernian gentleman,
              named Barry, whose brother married Miss McGregor, made
              himself unpleasant, and finally sparred up to Ferguson, as
              a bantam rooster might spar at a cassowary. Bob rose,
              quietly grabbed Barry by the neck of the coat and the
              northwest cape of his pants, and heaved him head first,
              not at the door, but against a thin partition. Barry went
              through this partition, took half of it with him, and
              disappeared! Then Ferguson sat down and ordered drinks for
              the company as if nothing had happened.
    
              A man named Harry Burrows died on March 9, 1862,
              aged 45. He was working for Crown Lands Commissioner and
              Surveyor J. C. Bidwell, when that official was running a
              marked tree line from Maryborough to Brisbane. That line
              went through the present site of Gympie, and it is certain
              that Bidwell found gold there 15 years before any was
              found by Nash. That was clearly proved in after years by
              G. W. Dart, who was one of Bidwell’s party, and who wrote
              an account of the gold find to one of the Maryborough
              papers. Dart saw the gold, and said Bidwell showed it to
              many of his friends. Bidwell never finished his track, as
              severe privations in the scrubs in wet weather, with poor
              food, laid the foundations of an illness that killed him,
              and he died and was buried at the mouth of Tinana Creek,
              where can be seen today, the huge mango trees which
              Bidwell planted, the first ever grown on Queensland soil.
    
              He was the man who sent specimens of the bunya
              trees to Kew Gardens, and today that tree bears Bidwell’s
              name, “Araucaria Bidwelli,” though the honor should have
              gone to old Andrew Petrie, who was certainly the first
              discoverer, in fact the bunya for a time was actually
              called “Pinus Petriana.” Harry Burrows was out with
              Bidwell in the worst part of his trip, and had one or two
              narrow escapes from the blacks He afterwards worked for
              Atticus Tooth, and also for J. D. Mactaggart, an old Wide
              Bay pioneer who died at Kilkivan, on January 16, 1871, an
              uncle of the well known stock and station Mactaggart
              brothers of Brisbane today. Burrows was away south in
              1854, on the Hunter River, and in a letter written by him
              in 1861, to an old Brisbane resident, he said he was in
              Newcastle when an aboriginal named Harry Brown was burned
              to death while intoxicated. This was the “Brown” who was
              one of the two blacks with Leichhardt in his second
              expedition of 1847, when no one ever returned.
    
              An old resident says that in the cemetery is a man
              named George Smith, who died in 1863. He tells us that
              this man was once tried for his life on a charge of
              murder, somewhere on the Downs. Evidently he means a
              George Smith, who was one of two men, the other being John
              Morris, tried in 1854, for the murder of James Tucker, on
              Gowrie Station. Both men were acquitted, as the evidence
              showed Tucker’s death to be the result of a drunken row.
              Two doctors were witnesses, Dr. Buchanan and Dr. Labatt,
              and they gave two totally different versions. One swore he
              saw no wounds to Tucker’s head, and the other swore he was
              dreadfully knocked about! There being nobody to decide
              when doctors disagree, the evidence went for nothing.
    
              Morris had a brother who was killed at Oxley, on
              the day Sir Charles Fitzroy, the Governor of New South
              Wales, in which Queensland was then included, was on his
              way to Ipswich, accompanied by Captain Wickham, the
              Brisbane P.M., whose name is borne by Wickham Terrace, the
              private secretary, Captain Gennys, and police escort. They
              had lunch with Dr. Simpson, at Woogaroo, and were met by a
              big escort from Ipswich, where the party had supper at
              Colonel Gray’s house, and there was a swell ball the next
              day, and an address was read by R. J. Smith, who was then
              M.L.C. in the Sydney Council, representing Wide Bay,
              Burnett, and the Maranoa. Picture a man representing those
              three electorates today!
    
              Morris was riding after horses, about a mile beyond
              the Rocky Water Holes at the spot where old Billy Coote
              had his mulberry farm in 1876, and his horse ran him
              against a tree and killed him, about the time the Governor
              was passing. His body was brought to Brisbane in a two
              horse dray, and buried at Paddington.
November 1, 2002
Courier Mail, Brisbane: The ground beneat the old Lang Park is giving up its secrets of early life in Brisbane, writes Craig Johnstone.
She had bright red hair, was tall and well-built. At some stage in her short life, she had badly broken her left leg. Most likely her family had plenty of money. No one yet knows how or when she died, although it was at least 127 years ago, but where she was buried is no mystery at all.
The woman with the red hair was one of about 5000 buried at the site of Queensland's largest public works project- the $280 million Suncorp Stadium.
Her fully preserved skeleton and coffin (complete with some of her hair and scented wood shaving) have been exhumed by a team of University of Queensland archeologists who worked at the site between August 2001 and May 2002.
Her remains were among 397 the team excavated and removed from the stadium site, used as a burial ground between 1843 and 1875. It was Brisbane's first major cemetery after free settlement.
Convicts who died in Brisbane's earliest days as a penal colony were buried near where the William Jolly Bridge now stands.
The archeologists, working for the Public Works Department and operating under rules set by the Environmental Protection Agency, have dug up priceless details of early Brisbane.
Along with remains of the dead, belt buckles, coffin handles and religious medals, all more than a century old, were found. But it is the human remains they found and took from the site that are bound to generate the most interest.
The exhumations involved remains from the Anglican, Catholic, and Presbyterian sections of the cemetery, as well as 16 sets of remains from an Aboriginal cemetery. More than half the coffins the team discovered were less than 150 cm long, suggesting that most of those buried in the cemetery were children.
The team recently submitted the first of a series of reports to the Government, detailing the results of the salvage and how they went about their excavations in a place that most people now regard as a sporting venue.
The painstaking work of analyzing what they found is still going on in University laboratories. By February, 2003, the team should have compiled a report detailing discoveries about the remains.
This salvage has attracted much less controversy than the excavation of graves that occurred in 1990 at the time of the Hale Street redevelopment. The row over moving the remains of the dead grew so heated back then that an Anglican priest accused then Lord Mayor Sallyanne Atkinson of grave-robbing.
This time, however, the Beattie Government did everything it could to avoid being accused of desecration.
In August last year, an ecumenical service was held in the stadium's western stand to recognise the site's former use as a cemetery. Only those graves that would be damaged by the stadium redevelopment were salvaged by the archeologists.
That is, where excavations for the redevelopment would cut below the level of the burials, those graves were salvaged. But the remains of thousands will stay where they were interred.
How the team undertook their work is as fascinating as what they found.
First, they needed to excavate and remove the fill that had been dumped in the area since it ceased being used as a cemetery in 1914. That unearthed "grave stains," or patches where the trained eye can tell a coffin had been buried.
"Once a grave site had been identified, a 20 tonne excavator was used to scrape the surface away, centimetre by centimetre with a batter bucket, until wood or bone was detected," the archeologists report said.
"As the salvage was of a cemetery area, it was considered inappropriate to open large areas of the sit, therefore the heavy machinery was used to target the grave sites."
Talks are going on between the university and the Brisbane City Council as to where to re-inter the remains. It is likely they will end up at Toowong Cemetery.
All the material from the Aboriginal cemetery was moved to a secret sacred storage area at the University's anthropology museum. The Aboriginal remains are not being examined.
They will stay in the museum until negotiations between the Council and representatives of the Turrbal people come up with a suitable location for their re-interment.
The team was lead by Dr. Jon Prangnell, of the University's archeological services unit. Prangnell said DNA tests were now being carried out to discover what diseases those buried at the site might have suffered.
Tests will screen for up to 2000 diseases, including influenza, smallpox, tuberculosis, even leprosy.
The team also is performing a population study to try to differentiate the remains into ethnic backgrounds. What the team already has discovered is fascinating enough.
"People weren't buried with much at all," Prangnell said. "With the Catholics, we found a few crucifixes, rosary beads and medallions. But I don't think we found one wedding ring."
As he says in his report, "All other graves were devoid of personal items (except a ceramic plate in the Presbyterian cemetery)."
"This is somewhat surprising. There is no archeological evidence to suggest that once coffins were placed in the ground they were dug up at any later time.
"Either people did not intend to be buried with their possessions or their possessions did not make it into the ground with them."
One other interesting discovery was that none of the graves was the accepted six feet deep.
The gravediggers went only 1 metre down before striking hard bedrock, and many of the coffins were just below the surface.
The team found that many of the coffins were pressed flat, with the lid resting on the base- probably the result of the weight of the fill dumped in the area when it ceased to be used as a cemetery.
Of the woman whose remains were intact, Prangnell said: "My guess is she was a big, red-headed Catholic woman, but probably of some wealth."
The break in her left leg meant that it was about 5 cm shorter than her right.
But the archeologists have found no sign of grinding in the pelvic area, suggesting that she died soon after her femur bone had healed.
Her body lay under what is now the stadium's playing surface, just near the north-east corner of the field.
The slope from Petrie Terrace down to the Stadium originally ended at a swamp, near where Castlemaine Street now runs. Prangnell speculates that water flowing down the slope to the swamp helped preserve the woman's remains.
And her identity?
"Other than DNA screening all of Brisbane, we won't know her relatives," he said.
The Queensland State Archives holds some records of the old cemetery, but these are mostly related to the bodies exhumed in 1913 and re-interred at Toowong Cemetery.
Finding out who she was is going to take some prolific detective work.