RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD NEW CHUM.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 46, Issue 14143, 14 June 1920, Page 2

RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD NEW CHUM.

(By ONE OF THEM.) MIXED MEMORIES. When Ihe mind wanders in retrospection, back along the pathways of Time, it is curious how many and various these memories become. One memory begets another, ad libitum, till the whole becomes a sea of reminiscence, like a picture, part, in sunshine, part in shadow. As a boy and youili J was light and 'nimble, and a bit of a sprinter, having carried off prizes both at school sports and in Wanganui, butbreaking my leg put a period to my athletic career. Only once after, while out. at To Ore Ore, did 1 fancy myself enough to enter a race. That was at a sports gathering held in a paddock off Worksop road, where Sussex street now is. Alas! my hopes were short-lived. Some dozen of us were lined up for the 100 yards; there were several false starts, and, when Ihe pistol did snap, L was jostled and never got a start at all.

1 joined the Masterton Football Club of those days, more as a means to get healthful exercise than with the idea of playing in matches, which 1 may as well admit 1 never did, my “game” leg being the bar. The club consisted of" such players —many of them representative men —as Jack Bannister and his brother Charlie, the Days of Day’s Hill, the Harveys from the coast, Body Gray, the Perry brothers, Charlie Perry, soil of W. Perry, Jack Campbell, D’ A rev, Harry Hounslow and Do Castro, clerk of the court, who accidentally killed a man by collaring (as lie was running with the ball) rather low down, when the man —1 have quite forgotten his name —went over his shoulder and broke his. neck. De Castro, 1 have heard, never played again. Te Ore Ore, too, had a team of notables, included among whom were Body Thomson, Batima Maaka, Banginui Kingi, August, and the two Simeons, one of whom was a modern Hercules. Many were the good games, stubbornly contested, they played with the Masterton Club, the play being fast and furious, amt often fairly rough. r Lhe last game 1 played in was a fancy dress match, played in a paddock where Macara street now is. 1 went as Mephistopheles, with horns, spiked tail and wings of the bat description. I got a chance with the ball and a fairly clear run; was intercepted • by Jim Holloway, the clown, dodged, and passed him. He made a grab, missed me, but got hold of my unfortunate tail, which came away, and with it a good portion of my nether garments, so J. had to make a‘prompt and graceful exit. Perhaps if 1 used the word ungraceful I would be nearer the mark. I, in conjunction with Jack Wyeth, an uncle of G. B. Sykes, M.P., started (he first roller skating rink in Masterton. It was by no means popular in those days, so we found it necessary to include boxing gloves, foils and single-sticks, as well as dancing on two nights a week. I recall making a complete suit. of armour and going to a skating carnival in it, but the joints worked badly, with the result that there was a fall of mail, which brought down several other males.

In those early times the railway authorities used to run excursion trains to Wellington, to any good play or circus that appeared in the city and was not coming up the line. 1 often availed myself of the opportunity, arriving home* in Masterton in the small hours of the morning. One such excursion was run in connection with the opening of the Wellington Opera House, by the MacMahon Company, when they produced “The Silver King.” I still have the programme, a most elaborate affair, printed in purple and gold. Another popular institution, that seems to have quite, died out, was the cheap school excursions, for pupils and their guardians. I remember going both to Wellington and Palmerston North. Our Mayor, W. 11. Jackson, then showed at* his best in his anxiety to see to the comfort of the children and his endeavours to prevent accidents. With hundreds of children under his charge he must have had an anxious time of it. However, as far as I can remember, there never was any accident.

While I am on the subject of excursions I ihust not neglect to mention: one to Eketaluinn, after ferns, on an Easter Monday. The morning was an idter Monday. The mroning was an idnotieed innumerable litle spirals _of smoke wjtere the settlors were burning off their fallen bush. Out from Eket a him a a little way we found a bush to our liking, and after picnicking, went exploring. Presently the wind sprang up and the air became so thick with smoke as to make our eyes smart. Soon live sparks began to fall around us, so we thought it high time to beat a retreat. Imagine our dismay to find our exit cut off with burning bush. We had to drop our spoils and make a bolt as best we could through the fire, which fortunately for us, was not burning very fiercely. So we escaped with nothing more serious than a few singed garments. On our return journey by train the smoke was so dense that a man had to walk in front of the engine to make sure thnt none of the numerous dead trees standing along the track had not smouldered through and fallen across the rails. The train, going so slow, got the full genefit of the flames, and I know that several of the windows in the carriage we were in were cracked. Memory goes back to wliat I believe was the only murder actually committed in Masterton —when Summerville shot: Herbert outside the Club

Hotel over a disputed contract. Three shots were tired in all. The tirst took effect, and Herbert fell in the gutter. One of the others found a billet in a board' under the window of what is now Mr Levick’s fruit shop, and might have been seen by the curious long years afterwards; in tact, .might be still there, for all I know. Somerville, who only remarked, “Is the b dead? ’ '* waited, revolver in hand to pot the first man that attempted* to arrest him. Constable Oollerton, of Tenui, who happened to be in town in plain clothes, came sauntering up the street, apparently quite unconcerned, looking in the shop windows, till he got to the tobacconist 's on the corner, and where Somerville stood watching him, but as soon as his attention was diverted Collerton sprang on to him, when plenty of people, who had previously made themselves scarce, came to his assistance. He escaped the rope by pleading insanity, but got- “life.'’ How true it may be, I can’t say, but a rumour went abroad that the authorities had smuggled him out of the country. However, the same thing was reported of Hall, who poisoned his wife with antimony in Christchurch.

Another Masterton sensation was that known as ‘ ‘ The Mystery of the Severed Hand." .1 had in my possession a pamphlet written about it, and a photo of the hand, taken bv T. E. Price a photographer and stationer who started the business now run by W. and G. Maekay. Briefly, the story runs as follows: —T. Jago, Masterton s first undertaker, employed a smart, dapper young, chap as assistant; 1 do not remember his name. He is supposed to have insured his life for a considerable sum, and then disappeared. About the same time a severed hand, with a ring similar to one ho was known to have worn, was picked up on the beach somewhere down Christchurch way, where he was supposed to have had relatives. Tho haud was presumed to have been sent in a jar from Masterton, and was supposed to belong to either a Mrs E- or a Mrs C , both recent burials. They started to exhume one- of the bodies to make an investigation, but did not complete the work. In the meantime he' came to light, and tho insurance people had not to disburse. But. the mystery lias never been solved. I remember the coming to Masterton of Jem Mace, the boxer, accompanied bv Professor Millar, the wrestler, both men of colossal size and well adapted to follow their respective callings. They looked strong enough for anything, but I must confess they did not impress me, nearly as much as Donald Dinnie, who was just of ordinary size, though of wonderfully symmetrical physique. # 1 I also remember the coining of a nian, Hickson, the best man to handle horses I have ever seen. No matter how vicious they were, lie could make them docile in a. few minutes. Whether he mesmerised them, or only whispered sweet nothings in their ears I cannot say. All I know is that he took a very timid horse on to the stage, in the old Theatre Royal, whispered in its ear, and put it through all manned of postures, even to going to bed with it on the stage, lie with his arms around the horse’s neck, and the horse with its forelegs around the man's body. The horse, I fancy, was suppli-. cd by the Prince of Wales’ Stables. Thus, memory crowds upon memory, and I could keep on writing, but an end must conic, and, as tho most interesting events have already been recorded, why not now?