“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.
To the Editor “Truth”
Sir, Mr.
          F. Dennecke, in your last issue, correctly pointed out that it
          was H. Shepperson, bookseller, and not W. J. Buxton, that
          deserted his wife for an actress. Her name was Emilie
          Melville, an American burlesque artist, for whom Shepperson
          acted as agent. I remember her in the ‘seventies (1870s) at
          the Theatre Royal in “Kenilworth,”  “Fatinitza,” “Boccaclo,”  and other “leg
          show” extravaganzas. When Blondin, “Hero of Niagara,”  was here, he was
          engineered by Shepperson, who became a nine days’ hero of
          Brisbane, after riding on Blondin’s back on the aerial wire.
          The show was held in the gardens, and Blondin’s wire was
          stretched high in the air, over where the Kiosk now stands.
          Hundreds of “outer outers” occupied positions on the rocks on
          the opposite side of the river, and if the distance did not
          “lend enchantment to the view,” it at least saved them a “bob
          a nob.”
I am, sir,
          yours, faithfully,
C. S. P.
          T.
Petrie
          Terrace,
January
            11, 1908.
“Truth”
          has received two other communications confirming C.S.P.T. as
          to the fact that it was Shepperson who eloped with the actress
          fair, but both gave the name of the latter as Lydia Howard.
Ed.
            “Truth.”
TRUTH
JANUARY 26, 1908
BYGONE BRISBANE
THE PADDINGTON
              CEMETERY
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 Ker, 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.
FEBRUARY 2, 1908
BYGONE BRISBANE
“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 Peter 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.
 To the Editor of the
          “Truth”,
Sir, I see
          in last Sunday’s “Truth” a paragraph re Jerry Scanlan. I can
          give you a good lot about Jerry Scanlan and others of the old
          hands in the ‘60s (1860s). Jerry Scanlan kept an hotel where
          Stewart is now in Queen Street, which was called the “Sawyers’
          Arms,” not the “Surveyors’ Arms.” He sold it to one John Jones
          in 1854, and went across the street and opened another hotel
          called the “Harp of Erin.” It was next to the Empire Hotel
          now, which was then Paddy Meehan’s butcher shop. Scanlan sold
          or left that place and built the hotel in Edward Street called
          the “Shamrock Hotel.” I am not certain, but I think it is the
          same hotel bearing that name now. Scanlan was a supporter of
          Dr. Lang and John Richardson, when they were returned, beating
          Dorsey and Hudson. All hotels were free on election day, and
          there was a cask of beer with the head knocked out, and
          vessels to drink it with, every 300 or 400 yards, starting
          from George Street down to Queen Street to the Customs House –
          it was called Petrie’s Corner then. Those were good old times.
          Every one had money, plenty of work, and no unemployed. I saw
          a man known as Red Smith (his name was Richard Smith) make a
          bet that he could produce a pint pannikin full of sovereigns,
          and George McAdam held the money. Smith brought the pannikins
          full, and won the bet. I followed him from his own place in
          George Street, between Charlotte and Mary Streets, to McAdam’s
          “Sovereign Hotel” in Queen Street, about where Sing, Cribb and
          Co., are now; that was, I think, in the year 1854.
         
          Brisbane was small, only a few hundred, and a good many
          of the inhabitants were either Government men or Lang’s
          emigrants, and a good lot of people they were. “The
          Fortitudes” were one lot. Of course, the free people were
          beginning to come, and the convicts were being sent to the
          south, and there was great agitation about Separation, and old
          Dr. Lang, I think, went to England about it, with a petition,
          which was granted. I was one of the passengers on the first
          steamer that went from Brisbane to Ipswich. She was called
          “Experiment,” and was owned by Campbell and Pierce. She left
          what was called Dowse’s 
          wharf, just below the now sanitary wharf, on July 12,
          1846, for Ipswich, on her first trip. I might be a little bit
          out in my dates, but not much. She was captained by Mr. A. E.
          Campbell.
Yours,
Scribbler,
Ascot.
January 8, 1903.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1908
BYGONE BRISBANE
“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. Her sister married George Myers, and another is the
          widow of the late Aaron 
(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.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1908
BYGONE BRISBANE.
“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.
To the Editor of “Truth”
Sir,
The week
          before last reference was made to “Captain Maling of the 50th
          regiment – the dirt half-hundred- a name said to be acquired
          by their severe economies in personal expenditure, especially
          where ladies were concerned.” I never heard of the 50th
          being called by the above title, which in any case must have
          been only of local significance, as the regiment was
          universally known as “the blind half-hundred.” Through the
          heavy smoke of battlefield they charged a stone wall, that
          they mistook for the line of the enemy, and thus gained the
          title of “the blind half-hundred.”
         
          Captain Maling was aide-de-camp to Governor Bowen, and
          Brady, a sergeant in the 50th, settled in
          Queensland, and married a daughter of Chief Gaoler Sneyd. Most
          of our early volunteers will remember Brady at the annual
          encampments, and the mention of his name reminds me of an
          amusing incident that occurred at a camp held at Warwick
          nearly thirty years ago. Troops came from Brisbane, Ipswich,
          and Toowoomba, and the sergeant-major of the contingent from
          the last mentioned place was Brady. He was walking down the
          lines on Sunday morning, calling out “Now then men, hurry up
          for church parade. Get on the parade ground.” One of the
          leading spirits of A Company, Brisbane, V.R., now a
          middle-aged bookseller – not a hundred miles from the bridge –
          winked his other eye at some comrades and said, “See me start
          old Brady.” “Excuse me sergeant-major,” said he, “are we to
          bring our rifles with us?” “Rifles be damned,” roared Brady,
          in stentorian tones that could be heard from end to end of the
          lines, “who the …ever heard of a man taking a rifle to
          church?”
Yours,
          etc.,
A.   Co.
            B.V.R.
TRUTH
SUNDAY,
            FEBRUARY 23, 1908
BYGONE
            BRISBANE
“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 Brisbane 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
          Zachariah, 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. Zachariah 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.
TRUTH
SUNDAY
            MARCH 8, 1908
BYGONE
            BRISBANE
THE PADDINGTON CEMETERY
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 
"...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 y 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.