The Truth About the Gilfllan Massacre.

Wanganui Herald, Volume XXII, Issue 6406, 6 January 1888, Page 2

The Truth About the Gilfllan Massacre.

There are few in Wanganui who h&7B not heard of the atrooious murder that v is committed at the residence of Mr GMIUn ia the Matarawa Valley, near W&Dgauni, on the 18th of April 1847. Among Ihe old settlers there is yet a vivid recollection left of the feeling this horribleeventcaaa'd, and the subject ia never mentioned without a shudder. We have recently bad hant^d tq us the following account of the affi.ir, which serves to dear np several point- as to the reason why Mr Gilfillan acted aa he did, and farther helps us nowadays to realise the terrible experiences that were undergone on that fearful night 40 yr.irs ago. As Mhs Gilfillaa says " eventf of that nature are not oasily effaced from the memory," and wo are confident that tlis account, though -written by one who vas, then only 6 yoiu i » age gives a vivid .nd* true description of whnt actually took plaoe. The following is Misa GilfilUa's story in her own worda t WHY THIS IS WBITTEN. It haß lately come to my knowledge tiiat a very falae and cruel impression ie nbi sad concerning the part acted by my father in that terrible affair. 1 happened, only a few days at;o, to see an account of it, written by an army chaplain, which [mrports to give all the details. These det»ila are, almoßt all, completely false— a perfect romance, in fact, with a running commentary throughout on the conduot of my father. It may be wondered where he gamed his information when I atate that the only persona in whose power it coiild have been to give it were two children of six and seven years of age respectively,! nd an older girl, who was then lying apparently at the po n o r death. She had receive 1 a crushing w L uad on the forehead with a blunt billhook, and b&d it not been for her jouth.andthe skill and kindness of Dr George Rees, his wife, and other frier da, who helped to nurse her, she could not possibly have survived.' She lay for some three months — as it were, hovering between life and death — and has never completely recovered from the effects of the wouno. As to the double-barrelled gun, the i oseeacion cf which the reverend romancer makes such a point of, it is true such a .;un was in the house, but only a day or two previously my father had discovered .bat it was rusty, and therefore unfit for ust for the time being. Unfortunately he did aot at once put it in order, which undoubt< illy should not have been the case, but which of us always does the right thing at the right time? His excuse must be that there did not appear to be nny immediate danger, and that he, being tho only man on the place to do anything whioh required the strength or intelligence of a full grown man, fotnd little enough time to do all that seemei to be necessary. His wag an energetic, 1 isy nature, and Bach a person seldom htii to complain of too muoh leisure. My el ieat brother was a mere ahild in years, and aot at all a strong one, one of my sisters b Ting the person generally sent to help my father when she could be spared from the house, she always preferring outdoor w orlt to any that kept her within doors. He accuses my father of coolly iind deliberately removing himself out of danger, and knowingly leaving his wife and children to be murdered, in spitu of my mother's urgent entreaties that he would not leave hur. This is directly contrary to the truth. He admits tha'. my father said so, but takes the libert-j of doubting his word. From these premi> ies, he builds up a very moving, bnt wt.illy inaccurate aocouut of what afterwirds happened. Aa regardsthe a/zonised sort ims so graphically introduced in hia acoount, aa a matter of fnot none were utttied, except one, and that certainly not a .rery load one, which I shall mention in its proper place. As I was the very last to esuape from the house before my poor, devoted mother hemelf fled, I am able with poit'eot certainty to vouoh for the truth of til 1 shall relate. I was only a few weeks paat my aixth birthday at the time, but the recollection of what happened on that awful night is perfeosly distinct and vivid in my mind. Events of that nature are not easily effaced from the memory, and in order to oleat my dead father's memory from such unjust and cruel imputations, I think it right to send abroad a con-ect account of the case, for the benefit; of 'uch v.3 have only heard the false one. I have no doubt my father would hive acted differently had he known what was going to happen; It ia very easy, after a thing is over, to s»y what would have been the right course to have pursued, bol not always so easy to do the right thing b< fore tho time pastes at which it would ba of any avail. It must also be remembarod th-.t my father was the first to be wounded, aud that so severely across the back ot the head, that ho waa obliged to oreep or. his hands and knees instead of walking up. right. I have, in after years, many t <nes seen and felt the scar which was across the base of the skull nearly from ear to ear. The boys ot whose youth this army chaplain makes so muoh, were full grown men, though young, and there were six of them ; one of the six war, I believe, ; lad of about fifteen years of age. The other five were some years older, THE PBBLUDK 10 THE TRAGEDY. The evening of Sunday, the 18tr of April, 1847, was fine and clear after a fine sunny day. I should judge by the light in this present month of April, in whioh I write, that the time waa about six o'clock or a little later. Some clothes were out on the grass, having been left out to bletch. My father o»me into the house, and, addressing my mother, said — " Mary, yon had better tend one of the children to f <teh in those clothes, for I soe a whole mcb of Maoris coming down the hill." This was immediately done. THB AOE.S OF THOSB PRESENT; Before proceeding any further, I had better give the names and ages of all the members of our family who were in the houae at the time. My eldest sister was married, and was living m town, Her only child, an infant of ten months old, was with us on a visit, and was not killed that night. In tho morning he was found asleep in tho fern, where he must '"aye crawled when dropped by Frank, in wtose charge he waa He died about two months later in the housa of his parents. The members of the family were ar follow :— My mother, aged about forty, kiUed; Mary, nearly sixteen, wounded ; Eliza, just fourteen, killed ; Frank, eleven tmd a half, killed ; John, seven and a half.esc.tped unhurt ; Sarah, just six, escaped unh rt ; Adam, three and a half, killed; Apies, nearly four months, died in town a few months afterwards; Alexander Alluon, died in town two months afterwards, I THE FIRST ABUDLT. The olothes having been brought in, my father went out to meet the Maoris, and talk to them outside. He was smoking his pipe ; some ofthe nativea were also srioking. My brother John went with him, but all the rest of ns stayed in the house with my mother. She may have desired ur< to do so, but I do not remember. I was watching at the window, and iaw evirything that went on ontside. My fat > .ras walking np and down sailor fashion, wliioh was always a habit of his. John was bi mdc him, walking up and down athiaellnw. My father and the Maoris were talking quite amicably, without any appearanc) of ill-feeling, when suddenly, as his baok was turned in his walk, one of them struck him on the back of the head with along handledtomahawk. He immediately sttgg.jred round the house to the door, which -vas opened by my mother to let him in, nnd immediately re.cloaed, thus shutting oat John, who was oloae behind. He on! led out, when my mother let him in, and refastened the door. The blood was streaming from my father's head. My mother bound it np, and wrapped up his neok very thickly to stanch the bleeding. Over »U I remember seeing her wrap a sky-blue ]iellisse belonging to the baty. WHY HE LEFT, While doing this, ehe continued to urge him to go away, as she felt sure it was oily he who was wanted and that the Maoris did not intend to harm any one else. At < thia time, I think no women or childreu had over been harmed by the natives. At last her entreaties prevailod, and she let him out quietly, it was then dusk. A BRAVE MOTHER . I cannot tell how soon it was after t'iis, but think it was not' many minutes, wl en my mother told us all to go to a bedrcom at the other end of the house, We wore ' all orowding through the doorway, when I, - who was looking behind me as I went, saw ' a long handled tomahawk uplifted nnd ' brought down on the window, the glass of ' whioh I heard falling on the floor. I sup- < pose my mother must have fastened she ' nner door, through whioh we had escaped, ' for we were not followed. I only kciw 1 that she was behind as all the time, und < was the last to go through the doorwiy. ' The room to which we retreated wai a 1 small one, with a bed on each side ; leaving '

a narrow passage, at, tho end of which w:js a window between the beds My moth* r directed each of us where to go under it a or other of the beds ; she standing up n the middle of the room. The house waa a day one, and, while we wore hiding, ye three little ones who were under the bed that stood against the outside wall, had to shift our positions, in oonsequence of a piece of wood whioh had been thrust through the clay wall. My sister Mary was the fir ft to be sent ont through the window, cry mother handing after her, her own bab /, little Agnes. After a short interval, daring which my mother watahed at tlie window, tiliza was put out, having in nor charge my brother Adam. Then, aft:r another interval, Frank with Alexander Allison, our little nephew, to take care c f , My mother wstshed the whole tims, and never, by word or sign, let us euppoie that she saw or heard anything whuh might cause us to feel any additional alarm, although to judge from the position tn which the bodies were found, she me 3t have seen everything that went on as w«U as the darkness permitted. While she w w thus watching, and we were peering oat from under the bed, I saw a Maori appeir at the window holding in his hand a lighted stick which h e thrust almost into my mother's face, uttering at the siote time a word in his own language, which I think I remember correctly, bnt do uit know the meaning of She gave a sligit scream and started back. I have s'.nce thought that thia fire stiok was probably thrust in to light the room and show hew many of ns still remained in it. Aftar Frank and Alexander, John was put out, and then shortly afterwards myself. Wo were lifted gently over the window sill, a low one and deposited with oar feet on t:ie gronnd. It was quite dark only a few stars, and the light from the other side jf the house, whioh had been set on fi/e. This was the portion we had first escaped from and where a fire had been left bnrning on the hearth. They were evidently hiding round the earner nearest to the window from whioh we ( had escaped On going a few stepß from the window I felt myself struok on the right shonlder with some wooden weapon, which knocked me into a drain. This, no doubt, gave ny assailant the idea that he bad killed roe for he appears not to have seen that I instantly clambered out the ditch and rut away, as it proved in the right direction to ensnre my safety. At the gate I met ny brother John, who had had the wit tojunp into the ditch and run »long it, as he afterwards told me- He had very dark hair, and wore dark clothes, whioh most likely were two pointa very ranch in his favor. Just after meeting him 1 1 heard a scream, and, looking round, saw the light colored dress of my mother moving quickly, ehe was evidently running. We were so frightened that we caught hold of one another's hands and ran round the end of a hill near us. We climbed some distai cc up the Bide of this hill, and then lay down in the fern, where we remained till the morning, of course wide awake, aad fancying that every little aonnd we hei rd was oaused by the feet of some one coming to kill ns. We lay closo together hand in hand afraid to speak above a whisper, NEXT MORNING when daylight came, my brother said he knew the way to town, and would take >ne there, so after some consultation we started, still hand in hand. At the foot of the hill, we came upon my sister Ma.y, sitting near the edge of the swamp with r the little baby still in her lap ; both wore 'literally covered with blood — a ghaeily sight. Wo said we were going to town and asked her to come with us. She only shcok her head, being unable to speak. She afterwards told us, that, after we left her she managed to rise to her feet, arid, a. ill holding the baby, managed to make her way bacz to the houae. Hera she cine upon the corpses of my mother, Eliza, and Adam ; she fainted, and knew no more till after the arrival of the lelief party fr im town, The body of poor Frank waa more to the right. The poor boy had evidently run in the wrong direction, nnd had there by made himself visible against the sky. John and I were afraid to go near the house, and travelled on towards the town. There was not even a track through ,he fern to guide us but we met, under some trees, a party of settlers on foot, with cne on horsebaok carrying a sack. Th'jse trees, I have since been told, were in a spot known as the] Round j Ba" hi The horseman, Mr Bell, produced from his sad a loaf of bread, a bottle, and a pancikin. He gave us a large s!ioe of bread anc a drink of milk. The party then vrtnt on, leaving us with friendly Maoris, vho oarried us on their backs >to the miss on station at Putiki, whore we were kindly taken care of by Mrs Taylor and her family till other arrangements oonld be made* OTHER PABTIOULABS The Rev Richard Taylor told ma many years after, that the Maori who carr.ed me was John Williams, who aftarwa<-d« paid a visit to England, and was, I think presentel to the Queen. My father was attended by by the military surgeon, Dr Philson, now in Auckland I think. My sister was taken kind care of at the house of Dr G. Rees, and owes her life under Heaven to bis skill and attention, and to tha many friends who so kindly took tv 'ns in watching by her bedside during ihe night. She is still living, being the only one left besides myself of all those "ho were concerned in that terrible event. CORROBORATIVE EVIDENCE. As corroborative evidenoa of the trath of the story tons told by Satan Gilfillan, we have also the following in tha handwriting of Mary Gilfillan, the sister who though so seriously injured, still carefully tended her infant sister, a heroine if ever colonial history pioduced one: You (Sarah) and John Baw all tiat happened out of doors. I saw mother binding father's bead up. I was sitting in the kitchen close to the window feeding the elder baby when mother almost threw ihe little one into my arms, as father ruslied in. Mothei begged him earnestly to save himself. As I neither saw nor heard distinctly. I did not exaotly know what had taken plaoe outside. The Maoris slashed in tho window with a tomahawk, as I_huve good reason to know, for the came tomahawk came dangerously near to my right shoulder. Mather culled to me to run, whioh I did, with the two babieß, i.nd rashed under Eliza's bed. In the maintime Agnes fell asleep, and, as Alexander continued to fret, I asked Eliza to titke him, whioh she did ; tho little one be ng still asleep, and not stirring even when I reoeived my blow. This is all I can think of just at present, except that the Maori boy who was standing elcoe to me aimed hia hatchet at Frank, who gave a fearful scream, and, ai I thought, ran away. I saw no more, for almost at tho same moment I was struok myself Certainly the Most Effective Medicine j in the world ia Sander and Sons' Eucalypti j Extract, Test its eminent powerful ebTcott in Coughs, , Colds, Influenza, &o. ; -Me relief is instantaneous. Thousands give ihe most gratifying testimony. Read this certificate :— "24th April. 1885,— Messrs Sander and Sons,— lt is with the greataat of pleasure that I testify to the excellence of your Eucalypti Extract. Having lad inflamation on the bone of the leg, whioh came on after a severe attack of low fever, I was attended by Dr J. Boyd, who bad made strenuous efforts ro save my leg, hut without sucoess. He thenfouudit necessary to amputate my limb. Having heard in the meantime ofthe wonderful cures wort cd by the Eucalypti Extract, I obtained a bottle, and the Extraot had had not been applied more than a hour when I began to feel greatly relieved. After applying Ihe extraot every four hours- for nine or ten days I was out of all danger, I would persuade all who may be affected with sny suoh disease to give the Eucalypti Extav-ot * trial, and I am convinced that they will find it tho moat wonderful of medioines. Yours, &c, E. J. Cnrnow, Wattle Btroel, Sandhurst."— (Advt.) ' Defeotive vision— save your eyes— Mr 8. H. Drew has just received, ex Arawa, from London, a large stook of speota v les, eyes glasses, and binoculars to suit all sights Brazilian pebbles of pure orystal, in bait steel frames and in case complete, 10s per pair. Best piano convex lenses in ateel frames, niokle plated to prevent rust, 4s 6d per pair. This is quite a new thing in spr-c taoles,looks like silver.and finds ready sale. Piano convex lenses, with a blue tint, soft and comforting to tb,e eyea, invaluable lor those who do muoh readiu'g or writing at night, 4s 6d per pairJ Near-sighted speoks, eye, and reading glaaaua. It is of the greatest importance to the wearers of Bpeotaoles t > use only these lenses that aro properly ou i— out and fitted to eaoh individual sight. S. H. Drew is confident from his long experience and the very large stock of glaasea l at his command that he oan aoonrately suiti t any of hia onstomers requiring the abo re. Save your eyes, by getting a good art ole at the price of the commoner ones usnajlly » u id a few phrenological butts, v with book, 2s 6d,-I i