PATER’S CHATS WITH THE BOYS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3511, 28 June 1921, Page 54

PATER’S CHATS WITH THE BOYS.

THE BURKE AND WILLS TRAGEDY, j A week or two ago I referred to the memorial in the park by the Melbourne Zoo and to Air Long’s picture in the Melbourne xYrt Gallery. Since then 1 have been to Ballarat again —this time to take part in the commemoration of the fusion of the town and city. iou will have learnt before now that Ballarat is mv native town. Ballarat East is separated from Ballarat We<st by the Tarowee Creek. It is a long time ago when the Duke of Edinburgh v isited Ball arat. At that time East and West came together to build a hall called the Alfred Hall. But where was it to be built ? An unusual way out was decided upon. Why not build it over the Creek, half in the east and half in the west? The building was erected and called “The Alfred Hall.’’ We were marshalled and well, because in those days the Church of England Sunday Schools—at any rate in Ballarat—were 1 thoroughly organised. 1 f. v et about how we were organised. The main thing I I remember was the anchor and gilt rop.e ■attached to it which I had as a momento symbolising the nautical career of the Duke of Edinburgh who some time after j married the Czar’s daughter. .Much water has flowed under the bridge since those days. The Dime and his wife have since gone the way of all flesh. We were trained in the railway gcodssheds under Mr Robson who taught us “God save the Queen” and one or two other items. When we came out we were submerged by bags of pastry and a bag of fruit, and these presents made tons of goods given away. Aly principal reason for mentioning these particulars is that over 50 years ago there was the difficulty of merging East and West, but since then, the differences have, for better or worse, been by the lapse of time worn down, and now we have the two Ballarats merged into one. In those days both thrived , under golden mining hopes; but now-a-days gold mining has nearly died out. j BURKE AND WILLS AIONUAIENT. j I commenced with the heading “The Burke and Wills Tragedy,” and I became reminiscent. | Ballarat is nothing if not patriotic, and it does not wait until events die out. There is in Ballarat a memorial monument of a past uoe. It is a water monument — a fountain, which was used in the early days for watering teams. It was not of uee for ornament, though its value was a symbol. In the early days, water was a useful adjunct. Near my house there j was a water stand which used to supply j water at five shillings a load, and just opposite my house the owner of the water barrel used to live, and it was amusing to j see the owner of the cart trotting off with j a water cart to a fire and squiiting with the hove on the devouring flames. It was I natural therefore, to have water as a symbol for it was so precious. | The monument, therefore, in honour of two explorers, was a high ornamental circular fountain which dribbled down into a capacious receptacle below and it remains to this day. | The inscriptions remain also. Long after the men have passed beyond ken. The words are still quite clear on the four sides of the base: “In memory of the Explorers who perished while crossing the ; Australian Continent in the year 1861. j The names given are as follow: "Rob ert O'Hara. Burke, leader, died June 30, 186! ; William John Wills, second, died June 30, 1861; Ludwig Becker, Naturalist, died April 29. 1861: -Charles Grey, assistant, died April 17, 1861.” j ’ On another side we read: “Erected by | the inhabitants of Ballarat.” ; On the fourth side : “John King, the onlv survivor of the Expedition, died at St Kilda, January 15. 1872.” So 60 years after the men passed away we have a memorial telling us of the imperishable past. And so history i<s written.

\\ hy is it we have history records around us and do nothing to bring thiis history under the notice of -children of the presenttime? lou all know what 1 think about history teaching, and the more 1 think of it the more essential history teaching becomes. A\ ein New Zealand know practically nothing about history; but we have our parks containing accumulating lvfei ences to our history; and geneiations die " itli our history being unknown to them. \\ hy cannot past history he tabulated or put in tabloid form to give some an informative knowledge of our past, and the name of a larger his’torv giving fuller details ? AWAY FROM THE HAUNTS OF .MEN. Aly last three chats have been so taken up with history that I have got away from my usual run. And now 1 take up another History Chat. 1 have been away from Afelbouine, about 25 miles up iu the undulating country, almost mountainous, up at Belgrave about two hours out where trams ;u| d city life are absent: but where city liie in the shape of se-lions prevail. But it is so different 1 And chprch life L so different tool I went on Sunday morning to the Belgrave Union Church—Undenominational Protestant Church. And near by is the inevitable memorial to those who had gone from Belgrade. Thirty had gone and seven had not returned. The names on the monument include three nurses—tasters, among the heroines. Of the seven whose names are included as having not returned, the names of three are more recently added and their names instead of being in gilt, are in lead which gives them a permanence we do not often see. I remember once drawing attention to the soldiers lying at New Plymouth, and referred _to the placing of names iu leaden lettering, a usage now gradually being adopted. I returned on Sunday night and had an insight into what darkness means in the country. No lights anywhere except in the kitchens or dining rooms. There is a defined street, bvt get away from it and you have to talyj a light. Fortunately, it was a clear rky, though a fog gripped the earth—the fog that accompanies a heavy frost, and it was not very comfortable leeling one’s way about in the darkness. But the homes had spacious unfenced •‘.paces in the bush, and the weirdness of the surroundings was moot uncanny. But the fact remains, here we were within 25 miles of a big city, among sections tinfenced and used by many residents as week-enders, and bought and sold by the acre, more or less, and not having loading, though there were roads with trees fifty feet high on them. The street with its memorial, its undenominational protestant church, its houses, its shops dealing with all sorts of odds and ends, its nearness to a big city, reminded me of some American stories I have read. Lwent up on Saturday and returned on tile Alondav. On the Friday I went to the Botanical Gardens, and shall probably refer to them in another Chat.