Youth in the 'Nineties

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21888, 25 August 1934, Page 4 (Supplement)

Youth in the ' Nineties

By ISABEL M. CLUETT—-No. 11l

Time passes so rapidly that it is only when ono pauses to think that one realises some old, well-known place or custom has vanished. To-day, by a triumph of skill and up-to-date efficiency in the case of fire, the firebrigades are warned of it by an electric bell, an illuminated dial or a falling shutter in their own quarters, and arc instantly ready, to dash away to the scene of the fire, knowing its exact location before they even leave the garage. But in our day it was a distinct, though fearful thrill, to be awakened in the dead of night by the frenzied ding-ding-dong—clang—clang—clang of the firebell. No other bell could ever be mistaken for a fire-bell, for the hasty, terror-stricken uproar told its own tale. These bells were hung between two immensely tall, wooden pillars in a latticed tower, with the knotted rope tied far beyond the reach of meddling hands. But if one were lucky enough to be the first to spy a fire, there was no law against scaling the ladder and ding-dong-donging on that bell as hard as you liked. One of the bells at the North Shore had been the ship's bell of a wrecked ship, but the towers and tho bells have vanished away, and it is not nearly so exciting to break a glass dial 011 a post as is done now—adays in case of fire. Then in those days we had no magnificent scarlet and gold electric chariot shrieking and hooting through the streets, with firemen looking liko Roman soldiers in their glittering helmets. In tho town they had fireengines drawn by wonderfully-trained horses, but at North Shore we had for many years a volunteer fire-brigade of local men who ran with the engine themselves, and very smart they were in their belted tunics and shining helmets and very gallant, too, as they fought tho leaping flames with thin streams of water, and tho old-fashioned methods of the day. And as tho houses were mostly roofed with wooden shingles, there was little chance of saving them. With the coming in of electric light another familiar figuro vanished away—the lamp-lighter with his short ladder and his box of tapers. When he began his rounds it was the signal for the children to run home to tea or bed. For many years the street lamps on their tall iron posts burned kerosene, and a pretty dim illumination it was. It was the lamp-lighter's business to keep the lamps filled and the largo glass hoods cleaned, and every evening he trotted up and clown tho streets, and up and down his ladder, making light in dark places . . except 011 moonlight nights when the lamps were not lit. With the coming of gas, he gave .up carrying his ladder and matches, for a pilot light was attached to the lamp, and ho rode a horse now, so that by standing under the lamp ho could reach up with a hooked stick and turn on the light. Wo used to have a saying " ho runs liko a lamp-lighter " which I supposed referred to the jogtrot of the lamp-lighter. Before municipal water-supplies became common there used to be pumps and wells at the corners of the streets, and usually a water-trough for the use of horses. The good old " cow with the iron tail " as the pump was called, could lie used by anyone who felt thirsty, and I fancy I can hear now tho creak-creaking of its handle as the water came gushing out of the spout in a clear, silvery stream into the iron cup which was chained to the pump. Well-water, from a really deep, clean well is the most crystal-clear and deliciously cold drink in the world. These picturesque old wells with their mossy, bricked sides and wooden tops, and the clanking windlass which brought the brimming bucket dripping and swaying to the top —there are few, if any of them left now.

VANISHED INSTITUTIONS

Nowadays we .all have legions of hawkers calling at our houses, all, poor things, trying to make a living and none made very welcome. When we were young, tlicro were not nearly so many'on tho road, but they came regularly year after year, and wo looked for them 011 certain days. John Chinaman had his regular day, when lie would come jog-trotting along with his yoke upon his shoulders, and a huge, deep basket over-flowing with vegetables dancing at either end. The boys used to contrive all sorts of tricks to make him take off his broad-brimmed straw hat and exhibit bis jet-black queue of " pig-tail " which he wore coiled round his head. It was said that lie could never return to China if this were cut off. Then there was the Hindu peddler, very tall and dark in frock coat and crimson fez, who had a store of lovely things in his pack, silk shawls and lace as fine as cobwebs and gauzy spangled muslins and beetles' wing brooches . . and the knives and scissors grinder with his whirring wheel from which tho sparks flow . . and tho swarthy Italian organ-grinder with his whining music and his wizen-faced monkey in its absurd little pill-box cap and petticoat, which grinned and jabbered and stretched forth a skinny little paw for tho children's pennies. There was the crumpet boy who came round regularly during the winter, carrying his large, flat basket on his head, and within it, layer upon layer of pale, fat muffins, and thin perforated crumpets under a linen cloth. He carried a whistle, and at his shrill summons the children used to conic running, for hot buttery crumpets on colrl wet winter evenings seemed to taste so much better than they do . now. Punch and Judy Shows, which even in our day, were rarely seen, used to be shown occasionally on the beaches, hut now poor old jigging Punch, his squeakyvoiced wife and his dog Toby, with his absurd frill seemed to have completely vanished. In the same way, Mrs. Jarley's Wax Works, which used to be very popular with us, are never seen now. and Payne's Bell-Pingers who used to come round year after year, and give their tuneful entertainments to appreciative audiences—are they ever heard of now? At one time bathingmachines were tried out 011 Cheltenham Beach. They were little houses 011 wheels, painted in stripes of red and white and were for tho purpose of giving bathers shelters for disrobing and dressing. Horses were then supposed to draw the machines into the sea at a sufficient depth to allow the bather to plunge straight into the watery depths in a modest manner. Our bathing machines however, so far as I remember, had no horses, but stood on the beach with the shafts resting on the sand. They had little flights of steps which could be drawn up or down and with it they were divided into small compartments with curtains to screen them off. I'm afraid they had very little use on our beaches, for in those days the grown-ups did not bathe nearly so frequently as they do now, and tho children had no notion of spending their pennies on a stuffy bathing machine, when there were plenty of convenient rocks and bushes behind which to dress and undress in retirement.

We were great on processions in the 'nineties. Almost any occasion was excuse enough for a procession of gaily decorated vehicles and troops of whiteclad school-children with banners, but the best of all these was the Floral Fete held on the Fllerslio race-course. Practically everyone who owned a horse and cart, a trap, a waggon, even a perambulator or a wheel-barrow, turned out 011 Floral Fete day with it decked with flowers and ribbon streamers, and it was a very pretty sight to see these hundreds of vehicles and horses smothered in gay designs of flowers and fluttering ribbons.