CENTENARIANS

Southland Times, Issue 19821, 18 March 1926, Page 7

CENTENARIANS

“A PLEASANT PLACE” “MOST SATISFIED PERSON IN AUCKLAND" RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY DAYS (Special to the Times.) Auckland, Mar. 17« "God has been very good to me. I have no aches and no pains and much to be thankful for.” That is the very cheery answer of Mrs Ann Watson when you ask her how sl|e is getting on, and on Thursday she will be 100 years old. It is quite refreshing to meet the old lady. She is the most satisfied per-* son in Auckland. Born on March 18, 1826, at Shoreditch, London, Mrs Watson came out to Australia with her parents. After a brief stay there the family came on to New Zealand, arriving some time prior to January, 1840, for on that day Mrs Watson saw Governor Hobson land at the Bay o£ Islands. Mrs Watson’s mother and stepfather, named Johnston, first landed at Whangaroa and then moved down to the Bay of Islands. Those were the days of the rollicking whalo ships, the scenes at Kororareka being sometimes terrible orgies. To show how feW Europeans there were at the Bay in those times, Mrs Watson recalls the fact that her mother, when she arrived, made the sixth white woman resident in the little township that formed the first capital of New Zealand. One of Mrs Watson’s early reool-* lections is the outbreak of Heke’s war. After that perfectly illogical but very valiant Maori, Hone Heke, had cut down the flagstaff so many times that it was growing into almost a habit, and had clearly shown that he meant business, the authorities hurried the white people on board vessels lying off the beach. The same night the Maoris sacked the little township that straggled along the beach and, elated with their success, they talked big as te what they would do with the ships and everybody in them. The people thought it was going to be a second “Boyd Massacre,” but nothing came of all the boasting. Mrs Watson says that everybody got. a great shock when the magazine ashore blew up. It wasn’t the Maoris however who sent up this pyrotechnic display, but the carelessness of a pakeha who put down a halflighted cigar he was smoking, with the result that a fire was started and the powder went skyward with a great explosion. Mrs Watson’s mother, although she had not been long out from the Old Country, showed wonderful coolness in the crisis. Before the women and children were taken off to the ships they were all mustered in a blockhouse when the Natives began to get truculent, but not truculent enough to make it quite clear that they intended to go the lengths to which they did later. Cooped up there food began to run short, and Mrs Johnston decided that her children must have something to eat. Against the advice of her friends she insisted on leaving the blockhouse with the intention of going along to her abandoned home to forage. She had not gone very far when some desperate Maoris armed to the teeth went up to her and took hold of her arm. Mrs Johnston was a fine big woman, very good looking, and the Maoris said, “He wahine pai tenei” (“What a fine woman”). Nothing daunted Mrs Johnston never blanched and luckily an interpreter who had still some influence with the fanatical Natives happened to come along. He asked , the Natives what they were going io do with the white lady, and they said they were going for a walk. The interpreter gave them an harangue and warned them that if they harmed a hair of the white woman s head the ships’ guns would blow them Io ' pieces. Whether this brought them to their senses or whether there was still something like decent feeling in their wild breasts it is difficult to say, but after a korero among themselves they said, “Kai pai homai toa ringaringa” (“All right, give us your hand”). The fearless Mrs Johnston shook hands with the braves in all their war paint and went on her way. Asked afterwards how on earth she had the courage to venture among the warriors, she said simply, “I did not think of what I was doing. I only thought my children must have something to eat.” Mrs Watson lives in a tiny cottage about as big aS Wendy’s in “Peter Pan.” She draws the old-age pension, and is not too well blessed with this world’s goods, but she never grumbles and still finds the world a pleasant place. Her chief pleasure is in recalling her adventurous younger days, and she is never happier than when talking over old timaa. 100 ON MONDAY. MR ADAM McCULLAGH OF AUCKLAND. (Special to the Times.) Auckland, Mar. 17. The age of 100 years was attained on Monday last by Mr Adam McCullagh. He was born on March 15, 1826, near Dobb’s Briege, County Armagh, Ireland, and in his early manhood was in business as a seed merchant in Armagh City. About the year 1857 he went to Australia, attracted by the gold diggings there, and worked as a prospector on many of the goldfields. He came to Auckland 15 years ago. Mr McCullagh still enjoys the best of general health and is in possession of all his faculties save that he is hard of hearing, His appetite is of the heartiest. He is selfdependent in the matter of toilet, and is able to take daily gentle exercise. In habits he is a non-snwker, and though not a total abstainer is exceeding!, abstemious with regard to liquor. Mr McCullagh’s family consisted of seven sons and four daughters, of whom thos< surviving are Mrs Rise and Mrs Impey, Ml Eugene McCullagh, formerly head of the Postal Department of the Commonwealth, and Mr John McCullagh, also of Australia. His descendants include 28 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren.