OLD MEMORIES OF NORTH CANTERBURY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18550, 25 August 1928, Page 23 (Supplement)

OLD MEMORIES OF NORTH CANTERBURY.

MR MARK BARREL!. WAS BORN IN CH’CH. IN 1856. Described by MARK BARRELL. Written by H. Beattie. PART 111. In the former two instalments Mr Barren narrated some of his recollections of schooldays in Rangiora in 18dl, and. succeeding years, and of his memories of the bird life of those days and of the food and clothing of the pioneers. Going on to the dairy farm which his father took up at Southbrook early in 1801 when the narrator was five years of age, he early got acquainted with the iite and hardships of the pioneers. He has known butter to be selling at 4d per lb, but cheese was generally a fair price—about tid or 7d a lb. He was milking and herding cattle when seven years old, and rendering as much help round the place as he could, getting as much schooling as these duties wouid permit. Then his father rented a farm on Nelson’s Road, Rangiora, for ten years, and as grain was grown the narrator worked the horses, harrowing and doing similar jobs. When this lease ran out a shift was made to a small farm of fifty acres at Southbrook, which was worked until the combined circumstances of his sisters marrying and his mother’s health breaking down necessitated selling out, leaving farming and settling in Rangiora.

Shearing Trips. it must not be thought, however, that the narrator remained round the Rangiora district all the time. For years he went shearing in the slack ume before harvest and his annual shearing trips took him far afield in a wide radius from his home. It could not be said to be an ideal life. The shearers got no milk, butter or vegetables—it was all bread and mutton one day, and all mutton and bread the next day. The shearers were often treated like dogs and generally the accommodation provided was bad, but the narrator liked shearing and continued at it for years. The price paid was 15s per hundred for rough merino sheep, and at no time did he ever get more than 20s per hundred for any kind of shearing. Among the sheds he worked at he remembered Horsley Downs, Haylands, Waitui Downs, Birch Hill, Broomfield and White Rock, and also be shore, for a number of farmers. Mr Campbell, the manager at White Rock, was the best judge of sheep he ever saw and his knowledge of all that pertained to his woolly charges was remarkable. He could go into a pen of mixed sheep and without hesitation mark each one on the forehead with raddle, and you could examine every mouth at your leisure and you would invariably find each one correctly classed. If shown any piece of wool he could tell what part of the sheep it came from.

A Simple Youth. Another memory of his shearing days concerned a run where there was a big pond close to the homestead. One of the shearers was “ soft” on the girls and they asked him to drown two cats which were alleged to be killing the chickens. He caught one cat and put it in a bag with some stones and threw it into the pond, which was about six feet deep. Then he wanted a bag in which to drown the other cat, and none being available a waggish shearer persuaded him to try and retrieve the bag already used. The wag stood on one end of a board which projected well over the water, and the young and simple shearer advanced out on it armed with a long stick with a hook on it to fish the bag up. When he was well out over the water the wag stepped off his end of the board with the result that the simpleton was well and truly ducked, to the vast amusement of the gifls. The victim emerged from the pond in a maddened condition and the wag made himself scarce, but not before two or three big stones had hurtled past his ears. The dripping individual then retired to put on dry clothes, his rage subsided and the matter dropped. A Trio of Matos. Three celebrities throughout North Canterbury in the early days were shearing mates, and where you found one you usually found the other two. lwy were known far and wide as Philosopher Dick, Timothy Tugmutton and The Irish Grammarian. The first named was so called for his philosophical dissertations on things in general and men in particular, the second because he once swam the Hurunui River at Cheviot tugging a bag of mutton across the flooded waters with h is teeth, while the third had bean educated for a priest. Their claims to fame are not based on their popular names only, but on their quaint personalities, and it would be interesting if someone has preserved a sample of their wit and wisdom. A Biting Remark. An outstanding pioneer of the Ranpiora district was Mr Leech, who was full of humorous stories. He had been educated for the law and was versed in Latin and similar erudite subjects, but he had exchanged the musty tones

A Work of Art. The shearers were as a class drawn from a rough type of men who made light of hardship and who relieved the monotony of life with practical jokes. At one place the shepherds’ dogs were not registered and the ranger came to collect the dog-tax. This official was very fond of his glass and the men determined to make him “ so drunk that he would not know a sheep from a dog." They primed him with six pannikins (or three quarts) of beer and he lay in a bunk singing. While he was in this exhilarated condition the men were decorating his horse, a light bay, with blue, red and yellow raddle. They painted this in bands round its body like a zebra, each band about three inches wide in alternate colours. The work was thoroughly done and the striped effect was truly striking. Even the tail and mane were not neglected and the ranger’s face received the balance of the dry raddle. Then he was tied on to his horse and sent off with a man to convoy him to Hie settlement, about eight miles away. As the shearing finished in that shed a day or two later the narrator passed on to fresh fields, but as far as he knows the ranger gave that particular spot a wide berth that year, but turned up next year in good time to get the taxes.

of the legal sanctum for the open air delights of country life and was then farming on land leased from the Maoris. One day he was walking by the creek when a dog came and bit his leg, for which act he rewarded it with a lusty kick. The irate owner appeared and said, "You had better kick me instead,” to which Mr Leech instantly replied, "You come and bite my l a .g and I blooming soon will oblige you by kicking you.” The Casual Colonial.

One of his best stories, and one which he vouched was true, concerned a man who had been accustomed to being waited on at Home, and who came out to Canterbury in the early 'fifties. Buying or hiring a horse be rode up to a run at Selwun, arriving in the evening at the small collection of rough huts that did duty for a station, and all he could see in the way of human occupation was a roughly dressed man leaning on a post and smoking in a reflective manner. “What shall I do with my horse?” he called out, but received no answer He repeated the question in a louder tone, but still the smoker placidly gazed over the landscape and preserved a Calm silence. "Hey,” bawled the exasperated new chum, "What shall I do witn my horse?” The smoker blew a clou-' of smoke and dryly replied, “You h-H better shoot him if you don’t want him.”

A Costly Experiment. Although the pioneers tried to look on the brighter side of things, it was not all fun in the early days. In 1856 the narrator’s father and a mate rented three acres of ground, sod fenc ed it, ploughed it with the bullocks at a cost of £2 10s per acre, and harrowed it at a cost of 2s 6d per acre, sowing it by hand. The seed wheat was dea; at the time and cost 10s a bushel, but a very good crop resulted and this was cut with sickles. It was threshed by horse-power at a cost of Is per bushel, and then the wheat was sold, but un fortunately for the hard-worlcing and enterprising pair, they made a big loss on the operation, as it only fetched 3s a bushel, and as if to add insult to injury, they had to deliver the wheat at this price at Heathcote Ferry. Prices fluctuated greatly in those days. Some years potatoes would soai up to £lO per ton and next year, perhaps, you could not give them away as there was no export trade and the market would be glutted. The nar rator has bought splendid potatoes at 2s per sack (the sacks given in) and sometimes the tubers would be left to rot in the pits as the price would not pay to cart them away.

A Runaway Team. "The funniest sight I think I ever saw was in the sixties.” continued M. Barrell, “when two big red bullocKs were pulling a combine—that is a combined threshing and dressing machine —and the one in the shafts gave th leader a good prod with its horns. The leader gave a great jump and both started off as hard as they could travel with the combine lurching over the uneven ground. They went as fast as a man could run, and it was as good as a circus. To a very bow-legged man cha** -ae runaways, yelling ‘Whoa!' as loud as he could. It tickled me immensely and I laughed till I could laugh no more. Speaking of threshing mills, the first foghorn in North Canterbury was used on one. and going through Tuahiwi the driver turned it on full blast, and the Maori* all came rushing out to see if the end of the world was coming.” A Concluding Note. "As for music,” says Mr Barrell “there was practically none in North Canterbury in the early days. Certainly there was a violin or two in the district, a piccolo or two and a few concertinas, while the boys had Jew’s harps, but most of these instrument', were not in common use and it was quite a treat to have a little music now and then on rare occasions. What a contrast to nowadays, when we have bands, choirs, orchestras and gramophones, and music can be heard tl rough any wireless set.” (The End).