Hanson-Allen Family

80 Years in New Zealand

by Charles Hanson Allen

Chapter Three - Some Experiences

Lip Reading from Experience

Some years ago I was proceeding from Hunterville to Wellington by train. On reaching the Rata Station, a man who looked rather thin and far from well off, got on the train with a much worn travelling bag in his hand. I was the only one in this long carriage and I could see the guard on the platform of the carriage asking him for his ticket. He evidently had no ticket and I could see both their faces as they talked.

I could see the man ask the guard to let him travel without one, but the guard shook his head. However, after a little more persuasion he agreed to let him travel without it. This man came into the carriage and started talking. He told me that he had been very ill for some time and had not been able to work. He had no money, but said that Mr Seddon, then Premier, had sent word to him that he would provide him with a job as soon as he got to Wellington - at 10 shillings per day reporting in the House of Parliament. But he had to get there the best way he could, and he asked the guard to let him travel without a ticket. 

Finally the guard agreed to let him travel as far as Marton without a ticket, but he had said that it was as much as his job was worth if he was found out. 

This man was a shorthand writer and telegraph operator. He told me about the guard allowing him to travel as far as Marton without a ticket, but he did not know how he would get on from there. He supposed that he would be put off the train on the way, but hoped that he would get there in the end.

I was going to stay at Palmerston North that night, and to go through Woodville, over the Rimutakas, to [Wellington ?]. I told that I would get him a ticket to Palmerston North, which I did on arriving Palmerston North [perhaps this should be Marton - ed.].

I thought it would be hard to let the poor devil stay outside all night, so I told him to come with me to my hotel and I would pay for his night's lodgings. Next morning I decided to pay his fare to Wellington and we parted on our different ways.

I found this man very well read and intelligent, and we had a long evening talk at our hotel on many subjects, among them the wireless telegraph. I received a letter from this man thanking me for all that I had done for him, and telling me that he had got the job Mr Seddon had promised. He was getting on well, but had found that he was paid only at the end of each month. He had been kicked out of two boarding houses because he had no money to pay them, and they declined to trust him any further. He had not had a three-penny bit to pay for a shave.

I knew that Government men were only paid at the end of the month, as I had been on the survey staff for some years. So I sent him a cheque to pay for a month's board, for which I received a letter of many thanks.

This was the last I heard from him, but later on I happened to know some of his relatives. They told me that he recovered in health and was now in Sydney and getting over £500 per year there. But he never thought of me and I had been very hard up myself several times since then. However, I have had many kind turns done to help me along through life.

A Good Speculation

Hori was working on a farm at Pukekohe and his boss had a trotting horse called 'Billie Barlow', who the Maoris thought a great deal of. Hori was going around the farm one morning when he came up to 'Billie Barlow' lying down, apparently asleep. Hori said "The Billie Barlow is having a big sleep this morning" and when he got up to him, he found he was dead. So he ran back to the homestead and told the boss.

The boss could not understand this as the horse was quite well the night before. So he went with Hori and found the horse was dead alright. Hori said, "I say, boss, I would like to buy Billie Barlow, I am very fond of him. I will give you a pound for him."

The boss said, "What's the use of a dead horse to you?" Hori said, "I like him very much and would like to buy him." "Alright," said the boss, and Hori gave him the pound. Then Hori said, "I say, boss, can I have the afternoon off? I want to go into town." "Alright," said the boss, and Hori went into the township and around several billiard rooms. 

Some of his friends said, "Hori, how is it you are not working this afternoon?" Hori replied, "Me work? Why I have bought the Billie Barlow." "What, you bought the Billie Barlow? What are you going to do with him?"

"Oh, I am going to raffle him tonight for a pound a ticket."

Hori proceeded to sell tickets and fold forty. Later on the drawing took place, and the winner said, "Where is the Billie Barlow now?" and Hori said, "Up at the Boss'. You come up tomorrow morning and I will give him to you."

The winner went up in the morning and Hori took him out to Billie Barlow, but before they got up to him, Hori said, "The Billie Barlow is having his sleep this morning." 

On getting alongside the horse, Hori gave him a kick in the ribs, but he did not move, of course.

Then Hori said, "By golly! He's dead! That's very hard luck for you. Never mind, I give you your pound back." Which he did.

The winner was quite satisfied, and so Hori made a clear profit of £38 on his wily and wonderfully successful speculation.

 A Bad Speculation

Some fifty od years ago, I was farming a few miles above Mangamahu, on the Wangaehu River. I had had the same gang on Maoris shearing for me for several years running and they generally managed to get away at the end of shearing owing me 20 shillings or 25 shillings. 

Before leaving, one of them, Tiku, would ask me if he could leave two horses with me for a few weeks. He said I could use them for my work. I said he could leave the horses there as there was plenty of feed. 

So he left the horses, which were both half-draught mares, one very old and rather thin, but a very good worker. The other was only about three-years-old, only partly broken in and not mouthed - and you could not hold her in when you wanted to stop.

One day I was hauling long manuka trees for firewood and she would not stop, and so she ran the tree across me. Luckily I had fallen in a slight hollow and got off with only a few bruises. After saying a few naughty words to the mare, I was quite alright.

Later on, Tiku came one day and asked me to lend him £5 as his mother was very ill and he wanted to go and see her. I declined and said he owed me 25 shillings. Still, he replied, that would be settled next shearing. Then he said he would leave the two horses with me as security. However, I was not having any.

Then, he said, "What about you getting the mares in foal," and he would leave them with me until the foals were weaned. This caught me and I agreed and gave Tiku a cheque for £5. The following winter the aged mare died. I had put them to the stallion before this - at a cost of 35 shillings each. <

Now half my security was gone, but I had the younger mare well trained by now, and so put her in a small flat paddock near the house so as to haul firewood in the morning. When I came to get the mare, I found that she had put her hip out. I tried all I could to cure her, even swimming her in the river, but without results. So I got my rifle and shot her, as it was no use keeping her in pain any longer. Then it took me most of the day to dig a pit to bury her in; the ground was very hard and dry. Now all my security for £9/15/0 had gone.

A few months later, I saw Tiku in Wanganui and told him about the horses being dead, and that I was very sorry that this had happened. He said, "Never mind, they weren't my horses." I don't know who they belonged to, but I never heard anything more about them. Tiku never came back to shear for me again, so I had no chance to recover my bad investment.

Fleas

Talking about fleas, truth is stranger than fiction. We had been taking the bearings of various Trig stations up the Wanganui River. By the time we returned to an old unoccupied school house about twenty-five miles up the river, it was nearly dark and had been raining heavily. So we decided to camp for the night in the old school and not erect our tent.

We gave the place a good sweep out with a scrub broom we made, and things seemed right enough for the night. We then made our tea and sat down to eat it on some old boxes. However, the fleas then put in their appearance in brigades of thousands of large, medium and small ones. They climbed up our legs and all over us, and gave us H...!

We said many things about fleas in general and these ones in particular. Then one of my mates got a large billy of boiling water and a table knife, and scraped the fleas - or as many as he could get - into the billy from the table and boxes. But this did not seem to reduce their ranks very much.

We had to walk all night until daylight, as we were so tormented that we had no possible chance to sleep at all. It was many days before we got rid of them from our clothes and blankets.

This was the worst place I had ever been in to suffer so much from this pest. Pigs and dogs had been living under the school house for many years, and no doubt that was the cause of this plague.

The billy full of boiled fleas was emptied out the next morning and later on the Maoris planted some potatoes there and had a beautiful crop no doubt, due to the blood and bone the fleas extracted from us poor unfortunate mortals.

These fleas had the impertinence to make sporting grounds of our chests and had races and hop, step and jumps, as well, all over us. Damn them for all time.