Burke Manuscript

Burke Manuscript: Page 278

Transcript

Old Time Stories. By An Ancient.

Bless you, there is no hurry. Just let us step across to the dirty old White Hart, of a quarter of a hundred, or more years ago, and have a drink. It is about ten in the forenoon. Why! I’ll be hanged if there isn’t old Phil Ashton, busy about the stables, (where now is the side entrance) and he was up pretty late the night before. And who is that he is busy with? Why, old Charley the butcher, certainly. Couldn’t mistake him. Skull cap on head, a long blue serge shirt, and a black pipe between his teeth. They are talking horse. Just then up comes the Port conveyance from old Evans’ cottage at the foot of the Hill with Bill Moore the postman driving. He brings any Port news that is about. Some wonderful doings the night before amongst those gay old boys who then used to make Port Cooper lively. The Lyttelton Times, was then printed over the Hill somewhere opposite the present schools, by I think Mr Bradwell, the gentleman who for many years kept the News establishment in Colombo Street. Mr B. was a man of a considerable and peculiar talent. As some will remember, he was a fine elocutionist and his services were often in request. The Times was a bi-weekly, and about about [sic] your four page size. It has had the child’s complaint, growth. Bill lands his live freight, who are duly scrutinised by the loungers and all their peculiarities noted. Perhaps amongst them is some mother’s darling shipped out with a good outfit, somewhat reduced on the voyage to meet the demands of cards and beer. He is also largely stored with letters of introduction and will get a remittance now and then. He will do the Billiard and P.B. tour and later on perhaps blossom into a gambling sharp, or it may be turn into a poor old Ben Godfrey, or Gargorz, two wrecks well known about the scrutons of the White Hart years ago. The loungers muster. Here comes Kilburne, the chemist, from across the way and his friend Wilson, whose store was on the site of the Scotch Stores, and it seems to me once owned Freshfield House, later on in the hands of the White Hart landlord. And who is this singular looking gentleman? Why, that is Dr Mount, one of the old originals, who lived a bachelor’s life in a cottage somewhere about the Zetland Arms locality. He had high old times now and then. Ah, see here comes Rutty [hole in page] the painter, who lived for many years in a two poplar cottage opposite Strange’s. His foreman was Charley Flowers, afterwards known as a daring river crosser carrying the mails to the West Coast rush. Portly Mr Kiver, looking every inch a Briton, comes out of his primitive little shop next to the Australasia to see what is going on. And by George, here’s poor old Bob Hall, the builder. A fine fellow but with the failing! He did all Sir John Hall’s station work, and be it said to Sir John’s credit, he did [continued on next page]

[Note that in the original, pages 1 and 3 are on one page, and 2 and 4, on another. In this transcription they have been re-placed in correct order]