At some unknown time in the past, my father, William Edmund Rankin, wrote an account of his boyhood. He wrote it in an exercise book which, in April, 1935, was in the possession of his daughter Frances, Mrs C.H.Anderson, then living in Casino. Its present location is not known. On Good Friday, April 19th, 1935, Mr R.C.Law, of Grafton, made a hand written copy of this account, also in an exercise book, and this book is now in the possession of the Clarence River Historical Society, at Grafton.

Except for the foot notes and title, added by myself, and the correction of one or two obvious mistakes, what follows here is a copy of Mr. Laws copy of the original manuscript and the additional notes which he found in the back of the original exercise book. This copy was made by kind permission of The Clarence River Historical Society. It was made in September, 1987, by my daughter, Mrs Jacqueline Parkinson, partly on an electronic typewriter and partly on a voice tape. In November, 1987, I transcribed the whole of this copy onto a computer disc, from which this has been printed. How times have changed!

It is unfortunate that, in his account, William Edmund does not give even the year of his return to New South Wales, nor say how old he was at that time. I have not been able to discover that information.

W.E. (Leigh) Rankin,
Kalbar,
November, 1987.

Note for the reader - my grandfather Leigh Rankin first transcribed and typed out this, his father's account - I have simply re-transcribed it onto digital format, and prepared these HTML pages for a wider audience.

Alex Rogers - 7/10/98

I was born on the Hunter River at Miller’s Forest on August 8, 1855. My father was a native of the North of Ireland, my mother of Glasgow, Scotland. She was a second wife. I was the fourth child of the second marriage. My father had two sons and two daughters by his first wife. We were in prosperous circumstances as almost anyone was then, as great discoveries of gold took place, and money was plentiful. Farm produce brought great prices.

My little sister was drowned on the Hunter and my father left that place and bought land at Brisbane Water on the Hawkesbury. There we fell on bad times.

My mother about this time took a trip to the Clarence River to see her sister Helen Munt, a married woman with a family. She wrote at once to my father, telling him of the magnificent land and fine river, and succeeded in thoroughly rousing him. So he sold out milkers, teams, furniture etc, and obtained a slight mortgage on the farm, and took us all and started for the Clarence.

This was the real beginning of our misfortunes and a most unfortunate step it proved to our family.

My father was delighted with the Clarence River when he saw it, and quickly leased a fine rich farm, having deep water frontage to Carr’s Creek, alongside the old boiling down, which was then going full swing, killing 50 and 60 a day. He soon had some land cleared of logs, ploughed up and planted with wheat, maize, potatoes, onions, etc. Our family were then moved out from Grafton to the farm.

He then proceeded to fall the remainder of the standing scrub that was on the farm. While doing so, he was instantly killed by a tree falling on him.

This was the great irreparable disaster of my life, for it is pretty certain, had he been spared, a man of such sterling qualities, sober, industrious and with his extensive experience in such a rich young district as the Clarence then was, where opportunities to acquire wealth abounded, he would have prospered and left a competence for his family.

As it was, the blow fell at a most critical period of our history. The cost of purchasing, clearing and improving the land at Gosford had been great, and no return had been received for all the outlay. Then, breaking up and removing our home to the Clarence was another heavy item, followed by the expense of clearing and making a fresh start on another new farm. All this expense and outlay (I cannot say how much it was) left our finances at a very low ebb.

Our mother was put to the greatest straits to provide the necessaries of life for us. My step-brother George¹, who stayed behind at Gosford, came to the Clarence when he heard of my father’s death; but he did not give my mother much assistance, as he was a wild giddy youth.

The wheat was never harvested. Owing to being planted late, it rusted badly; indeed the land, being new scrub land, was too rich for wheat. In fact, our crop proved of little or no value, so we left it, pennyless . My two eldest sisters were put out to service at a small nominal wage. Their ages were Margaret 14, Ellen 11. My Eldest brother Fred, in his 13th year, was apprenticed to a tinsmith.

My poor mother then married again to Thomas Kane². I was apprenticed to a bricklayer named Goddard; but I was shamefully beaten by him several times, so I was taken away and put with a farmer named McFadden. I was sent by him up to his son’s selection 50 miles from Grafton, where I lived with an old man named William West. I was only 9 years old at this time. My work was to drive bullocks for him in the plough.

He was a gruff, but fatherly, kind-hearted old fellow, and treated me well; but he was addicted to drink and would frequently go away ten miles off to a shanty and get drunk; but he never illtreated me. Sometimes he would be away three days leaving me alone in that wildplace. At last, after living with him for six months, he went away to Grafton and never came back. I was left all alone for a fortnight. You may imagine what a state of mind I was in during that time. At times I would think I was deserted and left alone to perish in that wild place. There was no road or track plain enough to follow from the selection to any other place, or I would certainly have left my lonely habitation and sought companionship elsewhere. As it was, I made two attempts to do so.

I had often heard West say it was ten miles across the bush to the new line³ to Tenterfield from Grafton, in an easterly direction. I made up my mind to strike out in that direction and hold an even course until I struck the road, when I knew I would be near some habitation.

Accordingly, I started one morning with a large kangaroo dog, then, after travelling a couple of miles, I wisely decided to turn back, fearing lest I might have got lost in the dense forest and rugged mountains which lay before me. Finding that no one came to my rescue during the next two or three days, I again made the attempt, but again my heart failed and I turned back, and it is well that I did so, I would most likely have got lost and perished.

I then made up my mind to stay at the house and wait patiently. I had plenty of flour and beef, which I cooked to the best of my ability as I had seen West do it. It was here, between the age of nine and ten, I made my first damper and, all things considered, it was a very good one. There were plenty of fowls also, who supplied me with more eggs than I could use. The kangaroo dog was a faithful companion, without whom I believe I must have become insane from the extraordinary solitude and loneliness.

Fortunately, I could sleep from sundown to sunrise. I don’t once remember waking in the night during the whole time. This was fortunate as I was by nature nervous and imaginative, and would have probably worked myself up in a dangerous state lying there in that lone hut in the wilderness, ten miles distant from the nearest habitation. A tribe of blacks visited me once and I was not the least afraid. They brought me some cod fish, which they exchanged with me for some rations¹.

At length, after a weary suspense of a fortnight, I was delighted one evening near sunset to see a traveller crossing the little plain in front of the house, leading a horse. It proved to be John McFadden who, with his brother Tom, owned the selection.

Next morning we started for Grafton, where we arrived safely that night, a ride of over fifty miles.

There waited me a letter from my mother, couched in affectionate terms, telling me that they had moved down the river to Palmer’s Island, to a farm belonging to my step-father’s cousin Richard Barry. I found that McFadden Senr. and family had moved into Grafton to a public house.

I stayed with them a few weeks and then went down to Palmer’s Island to my mother. I found this a nice place to live, although, I endured plenty of hard times here as well as elsewhere. Our farm was only felled scrub land and was covered with loose logs, so that cultivation was all done by hand, and the maize grown had to be carried in on our backs. It was continual slavery hoeing in the fields among the crops from morning till night. We had not a beast of any kind to help us. We had to do the work of horses, clearing, drawing, etc. I can well remember how heartily tired of it I became and how glad I would be to get away for an hour or two’s boating or fishing with other congenial spirits of my own age, among whom were John and William Carr². It was the most famous place for fish, I ever saw.

I went to night school here for a time and learned a little writing, spelling and arithmatic (sic).

I was hired out to Mr. Alexander Ross at 6/-¹ a week to drive bullocks for his ploughmen. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ross treated me very kindly, and I will ever remember them with affection. Mr. Ross kept the post office, store, wharf, and worked a farm.

I also served with Mr. Thomas Landrigan Senr. in the same way and helped him to clear and plough his farm. This was in 1866 or 1867.

There was a great deal of standing scrub on Palmer’s Island and on the islands opposite, and, in fact, on all the lower parts of the Clarence. After living there for two years, we left and removed to the upper Clarence about twelve miles above Grafton. My step-father owned 40 acres of land there, but he had no means of working it. I helped to move the family up there in the boat, then I was sent to Grafton, on trial to Mr. W. Hyde, the saddler and harness maker. I left my poor mother in the hut of slabs leaned together against a pole.

My step-father went to work at Ramornie meat preserving works.

My step-brother George Kane² and my idiot sister [were] at home with my mother.

I liked my new place well. I liked the trade, I learned it readily. My master was well satisfied to keep me. But just at this time, opposition saddlers of considerable reputation set up against him and, having three journeymen workmen besides myself and two brothers learning the trade, it was not thought advisable to keep me on.

The morning that I was leaving, when passing the shop of a respectable old shoemaker named Carson, he hailed me and, knowing that I had left my situation and wanted another, pointed to a man crossing the street, and told me that he wished to engage a boy to go to Queensland with a gentleman who was travelling there with bulls.

I seized the opportunity with great eagerness, as it was the height of my ambition to travel and see the world.

I ran across the street, accosted the gentleman, who there and then engaged me at a wage of 8/-³ a week. I was to be brought [back?] within six months of starting by the gentleman engaging me, all expenses paid. He further said that I would not be expected to watch at night as there would be enough to do without that.

I hastened home to my poor mother with these glad tidings and entreated her to give her consent for me to go. She hesitated a long time, but unfortunately yielded at last to my earnest pleading. I remember she did so with great reluctance.

While at home on this occasion, I saw for the first time a little twin step-brother and sister¹ who had lately been added to my poor mother’s difficulties.

That was an affectionate parting, but did not think it would be our last on earth, but such it proved to be. My poor mother! This is a passage in my history that calls up sad memories. Her expressions of concern and anxiety for my health during my journey, and my safe return, were many: but at last we parted, myself bright and joyous, full of hope and spirit, she weighed down with a mother’s dread of what might befall an ignorant and inexperienced lad who launches out into the world without a friend near to advise him or give her any tidings of him, should anything happen to him.

I can well remember with what joyous feelings I mounted my steed next morning, with my bundle strapped before me, with instructions to proceed to Retreat Station, about three or four miles out of Grafton. It was a hot day on the morning of 7th November (I think, but I am not sure) of the year 1867.

It was a bad day for me and if ever these should be read by any venturesome youth burning with desire to tear himself away from home restraint and go forth to see the world, as I was then, let me here tell him it is the greatest mistake he ever made or ever likely to make.

I stayed at Retreat Station that night, and next morning we began our long journey. We had about a dozen bulls and a few horses. Young and a man belonging to the station, two gentlemen and myself, made up the party.

I very soon got the taste of my new master. When we had travelled about four miles, he coolly told us we could take the bulls on to Gordon Brook, round by the dray road (about 35 miles), as he said he intended to go right on that day via Copmanhurst.

This meant two days’ journey to us and we had not a bit of food with us except that the stockman had a bit of lunch tied up in a handkerchief. This he generously divided with me and, with the exception of a kangaroo rat, which we ran into a log and cooked for our supper, was the only food that passed our lips for the two days. We were wet by a thunderstorm that night as we lay crouched together under some rails that we leaned against a fence. This was my first day’s experience as a drover, the forerunner of many such.

Young’s plan was to buy bulls from all the stations in the valley of the Clarence and the Richmond as we passed on towards the border, and then commence to sell as soon as we had crossed.

We were joined at Gordon Brook by Mr. Robinson, who was engaged by Young to go with us. We started again after two days and travelled up the Clarence, receiving fresh additions to our drove as we passed along.

At last, we came to Deep Creek on the Lawrence-Tenterfield road and camped there a week while bulls were from the Tabulam and Tenterfield, the Richmond and all parts. When all were collected, a start was made via Sandilands and Bonalbo.

After passing the latter place, we were obliged to camp out, and here I was obliged to watch all night, which to me, after the fatigue of the day, was a great trial. I was young and soft and had been ever used to my regular sleep. It was also a direct breach of agreement, as it had been expressly stipulated that I would not be expected to watch at night.

Robinson was a hasty tempered brute but withal kindly hearted man; but Young was a bully and a brute. About this time, one day while we were having lunch, he coolly asked me how I intended to go back. For the moment, I was so overwhelmed with the man’s treachery, and the thought of being left in such a wild desolate region as we were then passing through (we were near Tooloom), that I burst into tears and said impulsively, "I understood I was going back with you, sir."

"But suppose I never go back", he said.

Of course I could make no reply. I instinctively felt that I was in the hands of a villain and from that time forward, my mind was filled with anxiety, and all the bright visions that I had conjured up concerning the journey vanished.

But I had one friend, Mr. Robinson. I was sure he would never have stood by and seen me ill used. His manner towards me was excessively kind and fatherly, especially as he began to understand the character of Young.

Unfortunately as we journeyed along I noticed that dissension took place between him and Young, and when we arrived at Warwick, Robinson left.

Young refused to pay him, so he followed us about forty miles past Warwick and served him with a summons.

After serving him, he came round to where I was herding the bulls and strongly urged me to leave and go back with him. He would take me back and bear all cost.

If I had been brought face to face with Young at that minute, I would certainly have done so; but I never saw him [Robinson] again, so I gradually let the idea die out of my head.

Young was detained here four or five days, and during that time Combo, a black-fellow who had joined us at Tooloom, deserted and went back.

Another young black named Harry, who joined us at Deep Creek, was also on the point of leaving, but at last decided to remain.

I was greatly attached to him and I fully believe that if he had gone, I would have gone with him. The reason for this attachment was his kindness and thoughtfulness on my behalf.

Frequently he had brought me back my dinner when I had been left behind some miles on the road to mind the bulls. He would frequently find native bees’ nests or "sugar bags" and would always keep some for me.

The weather at this time was something to be remembered. It was very dry and roasting hot, and as we journeyed along over the treeless plains between Warwick and Toowoomba, the boiling heat peeled all the skin off my face and left a boiled patch; and in the boiling, roasting heat (it was December) we would frequently have to travel all day without a drink of water.

I noticed that Young was provided with a large flask, which he carried in a saddle pouch; but never offered us a drink, although he sometimes did the black-fellow.

The ground on which we lay at night was (so to speak) red hot, and swarming with ants. Sometimes we would camp out, and then we would have to watch, mostly half-night watches. That is to say Harry and the man who was put on to replace Robinson would watch till 12 o’clock, when Young would be called. He and I would then take charge, and he would then walk round for a few minutes till he was fully assured that all was quiet. Then he would walk towards me and shaking his fist would give vent to some terrible threats of what he would do to me in the morning if any of the bulls were missing. He would the go back to his bed and remain till he was called to his breakfast in the morning.

When camped in the angle of a fence or on a crest, the watch was divided into four. I would take the first watch till 10 o’clock. The remaining hours were divided into three watches.

The excessive heat, bad food and water, combined with night watching, began to tell on my health. Head ache, loss of appetite, sleeplessness, indicated a break down.

We reached Dalby on Christmas Eve and camped a few miles outside the town. Young went to town and got drunk and brought out two bottles of brandy.

We camped in the angle of a creek, and as usual I took first watch till 10 o’clock. I could hear a thunder storm brewing up as I was relieved by Harry; but I was soon asleep as I was wearied out. The day had been exceptionally hot, and we had been travelling across treeless scorching plains since early dawn.

I had not been asleep more than an hour, when I was aroused again by my tent companion. I had slept so sound that I had not heard the roar of thunder and wind and rain, and sat up confused and was surprised to see that I was sitting in a running stream which came down the slope of the bank on which the tent was pitched, and in which I had been sleeping quite peacefully.

The first thing I heard after the thunder and rain was Young’s voice calling out angrily to us to come and assist to keep the bulls within the bounds of their camp.

I was soon drenched to the skin as I had no coat. The storm soon after abated, when the almost extinguished fires were rekindled and order restored.

Then the two bottles of brandy were brought out, and the upshot was Young and the two others got drunk, so that I had to watch the cattle till daylight.

A few days after, I took the fever and ague, and it is just a wonder that I did not die. I could not eat, and wandered in my mind. I could not sleep.

The only food offered to me was a pint of black tea and a bit of hard damper and salt beef.

Fortunately we were across the Darling Downs and we now got into better water and cooler country. My inhuman master could not help showing concern at times, as he saw me day after day refusing food and growing thinner rapidly. But I had to take my watch all the same when we were without yards at night.

When we arrived at Turong¹ near Nanango we camped for a fortnight. This was a boon as the situation was cool and well watered, and I had better food and regular rest at night. Under these circumstances I gradually recovered.

Young and Harry took a tour round the watershed of the Brisbane River among the stations, seeking orders for bulls. As a result, some were sold and we started again.

At this part of our journey, we were overtaken by a great stream of people flocking to the newly discovered gold field at Gympie. A few days after leaving Turong we arrived at a station called Barambah².

It appears that Young and Harry had some words on the evening coming into camp, for the next morning, when the tents were struck and rolled up and packed on the pack horses, Harry’s bundles were left behind. I was with the bulls about half a mile along the road when Young and his man drove up the horses and among them Harry’s horse with the empty saddle on.

My heart gave a great thump when I realised that my truest and best friend was left behind.

I did not hesitate for a moment what course to take. Without a word to anyone I turned my horse’s head towards the deserted camp, where Harry sat beside the smouldering fire, and rode back to him.

When starting off Young shouted after me in an angry savage manner to know where I was going. Quite ignoring his shouts I galloped back and got off my horse and took my seat beside Harry.

"Have you left, Harry? Are you not going any further?" I said excitedly as soon as I was sitting by his side.

"Yes, I had a row with Young, I am not going any further. I will go back," he replied quietly.

"Then I will go back with you," I replied resolutely.

"Well done!", said he, "I will not go back by myself. I want mate, long way travel, strange country, strange black fellow, might kill me if I have no mate."

When Young saw it was my determination to stay with Harry, he rode back to where we sat and asked in a bullying tone what I meant. I replied simply that I intended to stay with Harry.

"Get on your horse instantly and go on with your work or I will lay this whip about you."

"I will not", I replied firmly, and he could see that I was determined. He dared not put his threat into execution for there was two to one and he was a coward.

He then tried another tack. "I will send to Gayndah and have you arrested from absconding from your hired service. You will get six months as sure as you sit there", but I sat immovably.

Young was compelled to leave without results, taking my horse with him. Harry and I then held a serious conversation as to the best course to pursue. It was only then that I remembered that my blankets and clothes were on Young’s packhorse. We decided to follow Young and claim my bundle and then start back.

We had no food but Harry had a tomahawk, and while we had that, we did not fear starvation, as the country abounded in wild honey and game.

Heavy rain began to fall and we were soon drenched through. We plodded along the muddy road and kept in sight of Young till he pitched camp. We then approached to get my blankets.

I had entreated Harry if Young offered to compromise not to listen to him. I was afraid we would go further and fare worse, for I instinctively felt that he was an unscrupulous villain.

Harry promised not to listen to any terms, but he miserably failed to keep his promise. When we approached, wet and hungry, Harry was taken on one side and was easily persuaded by liberal promises, never intended to be performed, to resume his post. Young then turned savagely to me and said, "Now what do you think you intend to do?" "I think I will go on to those travelling sheep" said I, pointing to where a drove of sheep were camped ahead. I was overwhelmed with confusion by the desertion of my confederate, but still I had no thought of making terms with Young.

"It is quite useless to go to them for I have already forewarned the man in charge against harbouring you, as you are an absconder and will soon be arrested."

I stood still for a moment in the growing darkness, with my bundle under my arm. I was very hungry and rain continued to fall. Seeing that he was victorious and I was beaten at all points, he waved his hands hautily (sic) towards the camp fire and said, "Go and get your supper and go on watch, and consider yourself lucky that your are let off without a hiding."

There was nothing for it but ignominious surrender, so I was soon doing my best to masticate some hard damper and tough beef (the never ending diet of the drover) and drying my drenched clothes previous to going on watch. When that was over, I was soon wrapped in my wet blankets and stretched on the muddy ground, fast asleep.

About a week after, we arrived at Gayndah, a small straggling town situated on the Burnett River, about 100 miles from the coast. It was mainly supported by the stations around, which, employing a great deal of labour, although a few years later, cattle were substituted for sheep.

We stayed there about a week and a number of bulls were sold.

While Young was inspecting the bulls, one day, with a squatter, I heard a overheard a remark which roused my attention. I saw the squatter scrutinising me pretty closely and I knew from the fragments of their remarks which I had overheard, that they were talking about me. I recalled all this to mind afterwards as it formed a connecting link in my history.

The journey down the river to Walla was the pleasantest of the whole journey up to this time, as grass and water were plentiful. We made yards nearly every night and our drove was diminished to about fifty. We were travelling in beautifully undulating richly grassed country, and the weather was cool and pleasant.

About this time, we received news of the Duke of Edinburgh having been shot by O’Farrell when on a visit to Sydney. At the same time we heard of the discovery of a 1,000 ounce nugget by a gold miner at Gympie.

We passed through the Kolan district on to Port Curtis¹ , and from this to Rockhampton.

By this time, we had only about 25 bulls left.

When we arrived there, Young took me into the town and provided me with a pair of boots and a hat and a shirt and trousers.

He then took me down to the wharf and put me on board a steamer, telling me that he had found an excellent place on a station in the Burnett district, and that I would be taken to Maryborough by the steamer, and from there to my destination by coach, and my new clothes had taken all of my five months wages.

I was passive in the hands of this unscrupulous villain, so just did as I was told.

The old Diamantina, in which I sailed, arrived in due time at Maryborough. I was then placed aboard a coach and, after two days hard travelling, arrived at Gayndah.

I then learned that I was assigned to Francis Glynn Connolly esquire, squatter, storekeeper, etc., etc. I was taken to the store near where the magnate lived himself, and in due course was brought before him. He was a corpulent, burly man, about 18 stone² weight, but he had a genial, kindly face and I afterwards found him to be a great sportsman and gentleman in every respect.

He told me Young had engaged me to him with the understanding that I was to be apprenticed to him for five years to learn the profession of stock keeping and station management, that he had given Young three pounds ten shillings as passage fare from Rockhampton back to Gayndah, and that amount was entered against my account in the ledger. He would write at once to my mother and obtain her consent to my apprenticeship. In the mean time, I was to go to the station and enter upon my duties, my wages to be five shillings per week.

After staying at Gayndah for about six weeks, I was despatched to Wondah, about 50 miles distant in the direction of Rockhampton, eight miles distant from where the mining township of Mount Perry now stands. It was situated at the head of the most southern branch¹ of the Kolan River, Moolboolaman and Gin Gin being on the same stream, lower down. The country is very rough and mountainous, and thickly timbered and famous for its grazing quality, although in a northerly and easterly direction it is better still.

I found the super to be a tall, wiry Irishman with a long beard and about middle aged. He had a fine, fresh looking wife of about thirty and no family. I soon found him to be a harsh, blasphemous bully, "a tyrant to the weak and a coward to the brave."

He was delighted to have and persecute the weak and defenceless that were unable to retaliate and, as a consequence, I was singled out as soon as I made my appearance, as a butt at whom he could discharge his venom and exercise his wit before company. He would compel me to ride rough horses just for the pleasure of seeing me bucked and thrown.

When mustering time came round and the gathering of stockmen from other stations came to assist us, he would invariably make it a practice to appear among us in our rude hut and give vent to his foul tongue in course jests and insults at my expense.

I dared say nothing although frequently scalding tears of indignation would race down my cheeks, which must have surely forewarned him that his insults would be no longer tamely submitted to and, indeed, the time did come, which I may as well here mention.

We had been mustering fat cattle and had just finished drafting them in the yard from some other cattle which we wished to turn adrift again in the bush.

The gates were opened and the cattle turned out, when we suddenly remembered that there was a mob of weaners’ herded outside by two of the station hands, and we could now hear them bringing them into the yard that the bush cattle were just vacating and that probably they would box² unless prompt steps were taken to warn the herders back. Orders were at once issued to get the horses. Without waiting a moment, I jumped from the cap³ on which we were all seated and started, as hard as I could, to run down the paddock to get a horse, not, however, before the super had poured forth a torrent curses on my head, as if I were responsible for the whole of the impending trouble.

When I had proceeded about a hundred yards, I heard a great shout behind and stopped to hear what was said. My ears were instantly greeted by a stream of curses and threats of various kinds if I did not "move myself." Now I knew that this was only "showing off" before the strangers who sat on the cap at the stockyard. That remark, and his curses and threats, were altogether undeserved as I had displayed the utmost alacrity and had only stopped when I had heard the shout, thinking that it was some fresh order.

Now a sudden determination seized me. I would put up with his persecution no longer. I would bring this bragging, cursing bully up with a round turn, for I had read the man’s character long ago. Instead of moving faster, I stood still and then moved slowly towards the men’s hut.

Infuriated, he leapt from the cap and made towards me, uttering curses and terrible threats the whole time, thinking to terrify me into taking to my heels. But I resolutely moved at a snail’s pace on purpose to aggravate him, until his towering form was within a few feet of me.

I turned suddenly around, putting myself into an attitude of defence, daring him to touch me.

He had kicked and cuffed and whipped me many times, but I had never made any show of resistance. He was taken completely by surprise. He stopped dead, his face grew deadly pale and, after recovery, satisfied himself by glaring on me at a distance and saying, "If you were worth a thrashing, I would give you one," and passed on without daring to lay a hand on me.

Shortly after the events related above, news came that Francis Glynn Connolly, the owner of the station, had met with an accident while in Brisbane, from the effects of which he had died. It then transpired that he was heavily involved in the bank. A bailiff appeared on the scene, a grand, white haired old gentleman named Finch, whom to know was to love; his memory I will love while I live.

The claims of the employees were duly met and satisfied according to law; all except the two boys, who were passed over because we were ignorant of what was transpiring. We were also ignorant that, after a certain date, our claims would be invalid.

And so we lost the few pounds due to us, which represented about eighteen months’ labour.

I engaged again, at ten shillings a week and had better times for twelve months, during which time Mr. Finch was very kind to me. At the end of that time, the station was sold to Mr. Mackey.

I re-engaged with him for fifteen shillings per week and here a new manager was appointed. Greatly to, our satisfaction, he was removed shortly after and another put in his place.

Then I struck for a pound a week and got it. Then I went on a long trip with cattle to the lower Moonie¹.

When I returned to Wondah, I found it had again changed hands and a Mr.Hopkins was in charge. I stayed with Mr.Hopkins and then came home to New South Wales.

I want, here, to go back a little way and speak of the discovery of the Mount Perry copper mines.

We boys, while tracking horses, had ridden over these mines, where the blue ore was outcropping, about twelve months before it was discovered by Dingle, and did not know what it was.

It was speedily formed into a large company. Work commenced, furnaces built, and in a very short time, a town sprang up. It was only eight miles from Wondah.

This made a great change in our lives as we had more company and amusement.

Mrs. Munt, my aunt, came there and opened a small store. Just at this time my mother died¹ .

END OF WILLIAM EDMUND’S STORY

The following information is also recorded in the back of the exercise book in which the foregoing account was written.

Sophia Muirbank, born in England, first married Birt, afterwards Joseph Austin.

W.E.Rankin’s brother, Frederick, started the first fish cannery at Iluka.

William Edmund Rankin bought a farm from the estate of Clarke Irving, on the Casino side of the river, at Irvington, Tomki subdivision.

Sarah Jane Rankin was the daughter of Joseph Austen, and a sister to William Koolcan Austen.

Lewis Austen was a son of Mrs.Austen by her first marriage, known all his life as Austen, but his proper name was Birt.

Farquhar McLennan married Anne Austen. Other daughters of old Joseph Austen were Mrs.Hankinson and Mrs.Charles.

William Edmund Rankin died at Casino in October last, aged 79 years and some months (October 1934).

This history was copied by me, from the original in the possession of W.E.Rankin’s daughter, Mrs.C.H.Anderson, at Casino, on Good Friday, 19th April, 1935.

Signed R.C. Law.