Memories of K.I. nearly 40 years ago
Memories of K I. Nearly 40 Years Ago.
By 'Sky Pilot.'
[Rev. Augustus Dunstan Bennett, Methodist missionary on K.I. 1884]
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 27 May 1922, page 4
"Time brings many changes !" This holds good as far as Kangaroo Island is concerned, as well as centres on the mainland. My introduction to the ' Premier Sanatorium of South Australia ' was somewhat primitive in its character and took me back to "pinafore days."
The Dolphin was the "up-to-date" boat that carried me and my belongings, and Hog Bay was my destination. There was no jetty; the steamer anchored as near the ' basin ' as the skipper dared, a boat was launched and into it I had to slide and was rowed nearly ashore by two sailors, one of whom I rode piggy back as I carried my Gladstone bag in one band and a gingham in the other. The other sailor shouldered my trunk as he asked 'What have you got in this box — Gold?' I suppose he found it rather heavy, as he had more brains on his back than he had for a long time, although they were 'dead mens' brains.' The trunk contained my limited stock of books— my stock in trade.
There was no one to meet me on my arrival, as the family with whom I was to reside were away in Adelaide. There was no hotel or boarding house at Hog Bay then, in fact the township, if it could be so called, consisted of school-house, store, black smith shop, Wesleyan Church and one or two cottages. Arrangements had been made for me to stay at the school-house until the return of Mr and Mrs Jas. Buick.
The Wesleyan Church had not long been opened. Anglican services were conducted occasionally in the day shool by the late Canon Morse, from Yankalilla, who usually came across in a sailing boat. Mr H. Broadbent was the first Wesleyan missionary stationed on the Island, through whose efforts, and the liberality of the late Mr James Buick, mainly, the Wesleyan Church was created. Mr. Buick having given £160 toward the cost of its erection, and in order to do so postponed the addition of two front rooms to his house, which consisted of only three rooms, one of which he placed at the disposal of this missioner. The donor never lived to complete his house as he intended. The church stands today as a momument to the exceptional liberality of a man whose interest in the spiritual welfare of the district was deep and sincere.
Mr Broadbent's work was stopped by a severe attack of opthalmia and the Rev. W. A. Potts, who had not long arrived from England, was sent down to the island to fill ihe gap for four or five months, at the end of which, in April 1884, my introduction to the Island took place. My first Sunday's experiences still are fresh in my memory. After going two miles for my saddle horse, Black Tommy, which I carefully saddled after being advised not to girth him too tightly, as if I did he would "buck like billy oh," I mounted and started for Cuttlefish where I was due at 11 a.m, to hold service at the home of Messrs Newbold and Trethewey. The directions re the road to travel were given in a manner that my dull comprension failed to accurately grasp, with the result that between 12 and 1 o'clock I pulled up at a double-tent residence of a selector and his family some distance from my destination. With characteristic hospitality they invited me to have some dinner which was ready. I consented and fat pork and mashed potatoes constituted the first course. The sight of the streakless pork was too much for me, so I said "thank you, I will just have some mashed potatoes," so I don't forget my first Sunday's dinner on K.I.
Obtaining fresh directions to Cuttlefish I landed at Messrs Newbold's and Trethewey 's later on and introduced myself as the Wesleyan Missionary and was readily welcomed, and during my year's work frequently enjoyed the genuine hospitality of their home and regularly held services there, having the Newbolds, Trethewey's and Howards as my congregation.
Returning to Hog Bay I conducted my first service in the evening and in the week following settled down to the work of becoming acquainted with the various families. I soon ascertained that the names of Buick, Willson and Bates counted for a good deal at this end of the Island. After nearly 40 years the same names are indelibly stamped on the life and history of the Island. There were some characters of note in those days. ' Old George Bates ' — not related to the family of Bates mentioned— was one of the mystery men of the Island, and was said to have been a runaway sealer or whaler. However he was remarkably reticent as to his early experiences on the Island, which dated back to 1824, or 12 years before the State was declared. He told me on one occasion that several newspaper reporters had tried to get particulars from him concerning his early experiences on K.I., but, he was not to be drawn on the matter. It was recognised he had been a ' tough joint,' but a visit to the late Matthew Burnett, a renowned temperance evangelist, effected a considerable change in Old George, who signed the temperance pledge and became a regular attendant at the Sunday evening service. One of his favorite ' show cards ' hanging on the wall of his cottage was a much cherished photo of Matthew Burnett.
After several attempts to get him to talk about his early experiences, shortly before I left K.I. he consented on condition that I did not give any details to the newspapers until after his death. Kidnapping of native women on the mainland was alleged to have been one of his, and others' exploits. This was confirmed by Old George in connection with the details of which he informed me. On one occasion be and two, or three of his mates crossed the passage to the mainland for their usual game but were caught by the natives and kept there for several days without food and in much fear and trembling. The blacks would go hunting during the day and at night sleep on the skins of the kangaroos they had killed. The only food Old George and his mates had were the pieces of flesh remaining on the skins on which the blacks had slept. One day while the blacks were hunting, a boat load of rescuers from the Island landed and released Old George and his companions. Their experience had rather a subduing influence on them in the matter of their kidnapping business. It has been stated that on one occasion one of their kidnapped subjects escaped and swam back to the mainland. The accuracy of this, of course, I am not able to confirm. Whatever Old George had been in his earlier days on the Island, I only knew him as an interesting conversationalist and a regular attendant and interested listener at the church services.
Then were other interesting characters besides Old George Bates. Another character was the Postmaster General of Hog Bay, familiarily known as Old Tom Simpson, who used to proudly boast that he brought up his large family on 80 acres and paid his way. I remember him on one occasion saying : 'You know I'm not like a lot of those northern cockies who ride about in their flash buggies and go in debt for them,' and added 'I would rather live on the smell of an oiled rag than go in debt for thing like that.' Old Tom was certainly industrious, but he had a good wife to help him who was one of the best cooks on the Island. I well remember on the occasion of our anniversary tea Mrs Simpson cooked and provided one of the trays and the provisions were all that could be desired.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 3 June 1922, page 4
The work at this end was soon mapped out and consisted of regular services at Penneshaw and Cuttlefish, and once a month at Cape Willoughby giving two Sundays at this end and then riding overland to Kingscote end by stages, the first call being at American River at the late Mr and Mrs John Buick's, where I remained overnight and held a cottage service. Words fail to convey one's appreciation and respect for the old couple. Mr Buick was a great gardener and a great reader 'The Scientific American' being his favorite journal of information. He could teach many fruit-growers of the present day how to grow fruit. His trees were models in shape and culture. The branches were kept low and almost touched the ground and spreading out for several feet from the trunk of the tree, his theory being that by such methods of cultivation the roots were protected from the heat of the sun in summer and the moisture retained in the soil. I have never eaten more luscious apples and pears than he grew in his garden at American River. His wife was veritably one of the mothers and saints of the Island, one of the best and kindest women I have ever met. Her children have risen up to call her blessed. Ever ready to help and minister to the sick, although she herself was a constant sufferer.
Morrison's Point was another point of call. I have occasion to remember one of my visits there. A brother of the owner of the home was subject to epileptic fits. While I was amusing myself strumming on an organ I was startled by a fall and strange noises and looking round I saw the unfortunate man on the floor in a fit, the first time I had ever witnessed one in my life, it gave me a scare. We were room-mates during the night and the experience was repeated about 4 a.m. and scared more than six month's growth out of me. Morrison's Point lingers in my memory.
To Cygnet River, via the Red Cliffs, on horseback, along horse or cattle pads, with overhanging bushes, in wet weather was an experience more soaking than soothing. There was no church the other side of American River, and at the Cygnet services were held in a well ventilated slab build at the old Company's Mill, leaky in winter and illuminated by Old Sol's rays in summer. Land was secured and arrangements made for building a church about two miles up the river as more central for new settlers. The foundation stone was laid and in connection therewith a tea fight was arranged. The Rev. J. Young Simpsion, Secretary of the Wesleyan Conference, was the visiting high official delegated by the President, who was unable to come. It was my lot to drive the portly ecclesiastic in a spring cart over stumpy roads, and the bumps his reverence experience during the drive made a lasting impression on his memory and anatomy. At the tea, an eighteen-penny one by the way, Mr Simpson was very much tickled by the attitude of one of the identities of the Cygnet, as with elbows outspread on the table, the feaster was stowing it away as if it was his first feed for sometime, and exclaimed ' I'll take jolly good care I'll have my eighteen penneth today,' The glistening eye of the Secretary, as he looked at the gourmandizer, was a study.
I left the Island soon after and there was some delay in going on with the building and subsequently it was decided to erect a galvanised iron building on another site as some of new settlers were leaving. Eventually the G.I. structure was removed to Kingscote and recently sold. Services were held alternately at Brownlow at Mr Maley's residence and store, and the boarding-house at Kingscote, now a portion of Anderson's Hotel. The leases of the boarding-house applied for a publican's licence but was not looked upon as suitable, so knowing that the Island was a place where some had come to get away from drinking facilities, the writer got up a memorial, signed by a large number of women on the Island, protesting against the granting of a licence and requesting the Adelaide Licencing Bench to refuse the application. I went to Adelaide with the memorial and duly presented it, and the application was refused. As it was a question that affected wives and their children the women of the Island were entitled to a say in the matter in the spite of the the query from the sterner sex, ' Why should he get up a womens' memorial.
Prior to Mr Broadbent's trouble with his eyes be started a subscription list to raise funds for the erection of a place of worship in Kingscote, but had to discontinue his efforts. After Mr Broadbent left the Post and Telegraph Master, who was a lay reader of the Anglican Church, moved in tbe matter of raising subscriptions for a schoolroom for services, and those who promised amounts on Mr Broadbent's list transferred their promise to the other list on condition that the proposed building could be used by any other denomination. The building was erected as a Church of England schoolroom and a clause was I understand, inserted in the deed "to be used by any other denomination when not required by the Church of England." The building was duly opened by Bishop Kennion, who preached on the Sunday, and on the Monday or Tuesday evening lectured on 'Early Christianity,' and being requested by Canon Morse, I had tbe honor and pleasure of proposing a vote of thanks to Bishop Kennion, for his lecture. Subsequently I conducted services once or twice in the building and then the lay reader arranged morning and evening services and Sunday School in the afternoon, so the Wesleyan services had to be arranged for elsewhere, and as time went on the present building known as 'The Caust Memorial Methodist Church' became an accomplished fact.
Other places for holding services during my stay were at Salt Lagoon and Wisanger, (where the late Mr Henry Partridge resided for many years), and North Cape, Emu Bay, Smiths Bay, Stokes Bay, Middle River, Snug Cove and Cape Borda were included in my itineraries. Much of interest could be written of the visits to those plaoes but want of space does not permit. At Middle River it was my pleasure to amalgamate the families of the Northcotts and Snellings, by officiating at the marriage of Mr Charles Northcott to Miss Alice Snelling, who for years have resided in Kingscote. The hospitality of the late Mr and Mrs Northcott at Cygnet River, and Mr and Mrs Snelling at Middle River is to me a pleasant memory.
Many changes have occurred. Many of the old residents have 'gone west.' The townships of Penneshaw and Kingscote have grown and the population now is, I understand, about 1200, as against about 7 or 800 nearly 40 years ago. The population is capable of considerable increase if the fruit-growing land on Cygnet River were planted and more families settled on other agricultural land now practically very little used. Even if it were let to would be settlers who could work it on the share system and thereby make it more remunerative to the owners and profitable to those who would settle on the land and culture it. Without some such developments the productiveness of the Island will continue to fall short of what it might be, and the Island continue to be largely a Summer Sanatorium for visitors.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 8 July 1922, page 3
Youthful ardour and enthusiasm sometimes lead even ' sky pilots' to take risks that in maturer years one would shrink from. On one occasion I had attended the Annual District Synod in the city and was due for services at Hog Bay and Cuttlefish on the Sunday. Arriving at Glenelg I found tbe ' Aerial ' was doing duty for the ' Dolphin,' and before boarding her I "viewed the seascape o'er," which presented anything but a placid appearance and made me halt between two opinions, viz., "to go, or not to go." In my halting I thought of the congregation that would be waiting on the 'Sawbath,' and would be disappointed if I did not venture; and then I thought surely the skipper would not venture across the Passage unless he was confident that his small steamer would be equal to crossing the raging main. So I decided to take my chance, and hopped on board.
We reached Hog Bay, but not without much tossing and washing by the angry seas. Crossing the Passage I had a narrow shave from being lurched overboard, but fortunately kept my arm around an upright tube which saved me. As it was, I was pretty well drenched and lost my hat over board. However, the skipper came to my rescue and gave me one of his billycock hats to go ashore with. Sunday morning I donned my breeches and top-boots and saddled up Black Tommy for the ride to Cuttlefish. I did not allow for Tommy's increase of girth owing to his week's spell and buckled up the girth as usual and mounted. Tommy went to market immediately and knowing his capabilities, and fearing lest my boots might get stuck in the stirrups, I slipped my feet out and allowed Tommy to land me in the growing crop. He continued to buck trying to free himself from the saddle, and after about 10 minutes be stopped and I caught him and loosened the girth, remounted and rode to Cuttlefish. What with being in peril on the sea on Saturday and peril on the land on Sunday, I reckoned I was in the apostolic succession. Tommy really lived before his time as he did not believe in tight-lacing, as the ladies did in those days, and were he in the flesh in this enlightened day be would be quite up to-date in his preference for slaok habiliments. That Tommy was a horse of class there was no doubt, as two days later, after a 32 mile ride to American River, when I left him loose in the yard for a few minutes while I went to announce my arrival, he again went to market and tried to rid himself of the saddle, and kept it going for several minutes. He was one of the gamest bits of horseflesh I ever mounted.
Other interesting experiences befell me in my contact with bipeds (two legged animals). On one of my trips to Cape Willoughby I went around via Pig's Tail Flat (?) and as was my custom halted at every habitation. I hitched Tommy's rein over the fence and knocked at tbe door of the house and introduced myself, and the lady invited me inside. After some hesitation I accepted, and as it was cold a few minutes by the fireside was acceptable. A few minutes later her husband walked in through the back door and his wife introduced me as 'the Minister from Hog Bay.' Before I could say Jack Robinson he began to swing his arms about and fume, and bad French was no name for the fulmination of his wrath. He said "Clear out of this, I've heard enough of you in Hog Bay, going around to people's bosses asking them to come to your church, to try and get a few shillings out of their pockets." As his pugilistic attitude was not too inviting and I was neither a Tommy Burns nor a Jack Johnson I said "Very well sir. If you do not wish me to stay I have no desire to remain." So I got out quick and lively. The biped also went out and walked down tbe road in tbe direction of Cuttlefish, whither I was going. I got Tommy and followed down the road for about 100 yards and then whistled and my detractor turned round and waited until I reached him. When I said ' Oh, excuse me, will you kindly tell me if this is the right track to Cuttlefish,' he said it was, and generously proferred a few directions in a very much altered tone. I said to him, ' By - the - way, do you think if I wanted to come to Kangaroo Island to preach for money I should give up a good Government position and a comfortable home and come down here to preach the gospel and sacrifice a pound a week by doing so. I would be a fool to do it, would I not?' He replied ' Yes you would.' I said. ' That is just what I have done I have not come down here to preach for money but to help you people, and I hope next time I call you will give me a better reception.' I held out my hand thanked him for directing me to Cuttlefish, and said good-bye. Tbe next time he came to Hog Bay on a Sunday he came to hear me preach. Whether be put a threepenny bit in the collection plate or more, I did not know nor did I care ; he came and got something to think about.
On that trip I seemed destined to meet snags, as when I got to Cape Willoughby on the Saturday afternoon I saw one of the light-keepers cutting wood and went up to him and introduced myself. He immediately said ' I don't believe in lazy loafers riding about the country preaching. Why don't they work hard, all the week and then preach on Sunday.' I said, ' Oh ! how could a man preach here at Cape Willoughby tomorrow and then at Kingscote or Cape Borda next Sunday if he had to work hard all the week as you say?' He replied 'There is only one decent parson that I ever knew.' I asked who that was and he replied ' I think his name was Rev. Charles Lane' I said ' Yes, I know him, he is a fine old gent, Father Lane we call him, one of our ministers and stationed at the Semaphore.' He replied ' Yes, he is a fine old chap.' I thought I had better leave him at that and said good afternoon.
About an hour later I saw him going to the lighthouse to go on duty at 5 p.m., so later on I went to the lighthouse and I was satisfied he would not cut up roughly there so I knocked at the door and the eccentric gent opened it and said,- 'Come in, Sir. I suppose you thought me strange about an hour ago.' I said, ' Oh, I did not take any notice of it; we meet all sorts and conditions travelling around.' He was remarkably affable and showed me over tbe lighthouse. He was a remarkable man in some respects and was an enthusiast on orchids which abounded in the neighborhood. In fact he was quite an expert— not according to the definition of an expert as given by the late Judge Boucaut on tbe Bench many years ago, when he remarked ' I have heard that there are liars, d — d liars and experts.' The expert on orchids at Cape Willoughby was eccentric at times, but was clever and gentlemanly when he chose. I did not meet him again for several years but one Sunday I was taking services at one of our seaside resorts on the mainland and unexpectedly met him and he at once said "I have been waiting to see you for two or three years. I want you to baptise my two children," which I did at his home. The many-sided-ness of human nature perplexes one at times.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 15 July 1922, page 3
Following on the line of human oddities, the name of Old Harry Smith, of Smiths Bay— Old Harry as as he was generally called on the Island— calls for some notice. He was a queer-un indeed. The first time I saw him was when on my first trip to Middle River. He was standing outside his two-roomed cottage talking to a couple of lads. He was a wizzened little old fellow, who looked as if he had lost a shilling and found a penny. I enquired if I was on the right track to Middle River and he said 'yes' in a gruff voice, much bigger than you would expect from such a small physique, I thanked him, chatted for a few minutes and rode on. Subsequently I heard that after I left he said to the lads, ' What in the — does he want to know the road to Middle River for ?' A few weeks later I visited the old fellow. The cottage, with dirty calico doing duty instead of glass as windows, had a front and a back door. I hesitated as to whether I would knock at the front door, which was closed, or go around to the back door, which I could see through a crack was open, I decided to do things decently and in order and knocked at the front door. Presently I heard footsteps, and the same gruff voice said ' D — n, who's there ?' He opened the door and with a look of surprise said ' I did not know it was you.' I said 'That's all right, Mr Smith.' At his invitation I went inside, and after chatting awhile, I offered to read a few verses of a Psalm, and as the old chap told me to please myself I proceeded and then offered a prayer, Old Harry meanwhile smoking his little black cutty and looking out into vacancy huddled up like a monkey on a chair. I returned to Wisanger and spent the night at Mr Partridge's and related the account of my visit to Old Harry. Subsequently Mr Partridge sent a bible and a book of sermons to him. The next time I visited him, about three months later, he was quite affable, for him, and after chatting awhile on earlier days he suddenly changed the subject and said, 'I've bin readin' a jolly fine yarn, I think they call it Beecher's sermon on Ebben.' It was a sermon on Heaven by the late Rev. Henry Ward Bee cher, one of America's greatest preacher's. I read him a short Psalm and suggested I should offer a prayer, and asked the old man to kneel, which he did to my great surprise. When I related the facts to Mr Partridge, he could scarcely credit them but was greatly delighted. Silent and unseen forces were quietly thawing the old fellow's hard nature, and Mr Partridge some years after wrote to me that Old Harry had passed away a very much , mellowed character. Like Old George Bates, Harry Smith was one of the Island's mystery men, landing here in 1836 and supposed to be a runaway sailor and whaler.
The habits and customs of some of the Islanders in those days were unsavoury. I remember one woman, who was known as 'the dirtiest woman on the Island,' and in order to reclaim her from her dirty ways, her husband had even gone so far as to thrash her, but without avail. One day unexpectedly I happened to ride up to their residence, and when within 100 yards I concluded that this was where the so-called "dirtiest woman of the Island" lived. I did not get off my horse, nor go within ten yards of the house. She was outside and I spoke to her, and after a few remarks said ' Are you a Christian ?' and she, in a sawney way, replied, 'Yes.' I said. "Well, cleanliness is next to Godliness," thinking it might do her husband a good turn and help him in his endeavours to reform her habits. Whether it be true or not I cannot state, but sometime after I heard that her husband did not appreciate the assistance provided. However that did not trouble me, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the sort I came across unexpectedly fortunately is not often met in any country districts.
At times very pathetic experiences are brought under the notice of a "sky pilot," and his work is largely made up of a blending of pathetic and humorous incidents. Middle River has previously been mentioned, and memories of that lonely outback homestead always come to the surface when I think of the Island. The late Mr and Mrs Snelling were two of nature's gentle folk and during their many years' residence experienced many ups and downs and many privations. On one occasion, owing to rough weather, no boat from the mainland was able to put in and land stores for a considerable time, and Mr Snelling informed me that they ran out of flour and other provisions, and for a time they practically had to live on onions and used sarsparilla roots in the absence of tea. The greatest trial, however, as related by him, was one of great sadness and sorrow. They had been to Adelaide on a visit and brought back typhoid fever germs. Several of the family were smitten down by the scourge and it fell to Mr Snelling's lot to nurse them. Three members of his family died ; he had to dig the graves, and for two made coffins as she best he could with timber on the place. For the third coffins no timber was available and he had to take the slats, or wooden cross-piece, from a sofa and lash the body of his dear one to them and then lower it into the grave he had dug. Such experiences are pathetic beyond description and would prove more than enough to break down many a strong constitution. To visit each home in their isolation, and be able to proffer a few hours of companionship and words of encouragement and comfort, is a work most highly appreciated, and I will never forget, on my last visit to Middle River, the urgent appeal of dear old Mr Snelling to stay a second day and night with them on my return from Cape Borda.
Snug Cove, the home of the late Mr John Hirst and Mrs Hirst, who still survives him, was also a home of refinement and interest in a distant and isolated spot. I had some unique and interesting experiences during my visits. At midnight, after the wedding of Mr and Mrs C. Northcott, Mr Hirst, who was present at the wedding, took me in charge and we started on horseback from Middle River for Snug Cove. When we got to Western River it was dark and a slight mist falling. Crossing the river we had to ascend the big hill without being able to see the narrow track. Mr Hirst got off his horse and reaching hold of its tail, he fol lowed the animal. A few yards fur ther on the horse stumbled across some fallen branches from a tree and Mr Hirst and his nag's tail parted company. Mr Hirst got past the branches and a few yards farther on found his old friend had turned found and/with his head towards Western River was waiting for his master. A fresh start was made, and the horse led us to the top of the hill, where Mr Hirst remounted, and said, 'Now look out, young fellow, and duck your head when I sing out,' and off we catered. I had to duck my head a good many times at his behest owing to the overhanging branches. We arrived at Snug Cove about 3 a.m., cold and well nigh drenched. Mr Hirst gave me a good peg of medicine, suited to the occasion, and we turned in, leaving our clothes to dry by the fire. I celebrated a wedding at Snug Cove during my visit, the contracting parties being employed on the station.
Years after I left the Island (about 12 years ago), I visited Hog Bay and Mr Hirst's nephew, who resided there, reminded me of the wedding at his uncle's at Snug Cove, and asked me if I remembered the man. I did not and he informed me it was Beard, who was hanged for shooting his mate, a kangaroo hunter, at Streaky Bay, several years ago. I got quite a shock.
A sky pilot gets into some queer company at times without being aware of the fact. I married a man to a "Bagg" some years ago in the ninety-mile Desert. I guess the woman was not sorry to change from Hannah Bugg to some more desirable name. On Kangaroo Island I never came in contact with bugs — either with one g or two— but I had some mighty tussles with fleas. Riding about as I did, occasionally I had to sleep in beds made on floors, tables, boxes, never on spring mattresses. One night, several miles up on the Cygnet River, I had to bunk on a sofa. There were only two iron rooms, one doing duty as bedroom for the family, and the other was the living-room, dining room, drawing-room and kitchen, all in one. There was a table in the centre, a stack of flour in one corner, a case for pots and pans in the other, with a safe in the third corner and a sofa on one side. It was a night of ups and downs. I got into bed but it was not a place of rest. Fleas soon began their sports ; there were jumps high and low, long and short, and steeplechasing galore. I would not like to mention the number of times I struck a light to slaughter the nocturnal acrobats. What a size they were, to be sure. I have heard of mosquitoes in the Northern Territory that stood on their hind legs and barked. Those Island fleas did not do that, but many of them would weigh a pound. I had no sleep before 5 a.m., when I got up, pulled on my pants, and tucked the bottom of them inside my socks, thereby dodging the fleas long enough to allow me to go to sleep, which I did and managed about three hours. I did not spend another night on that sofa. That night with fleas impressed me in more places than one, and the impression on my memory still remains, and is likely to. And now, as would-be orators some times say, with these few remarks I will make room for someone else.
Memories of K.I. Nearly 40 Years Ago. (1922, May 27). The Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), p. 4. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article191556223
Memories of K. I. Nearly 40 Years Ago. (1922, June 3). The Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), p. 4. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article191546805
More Memories of K.I., Nearly 40 Years Ago. (1922, July 8). The Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), p. 3. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article191544063
More Memories of K.I., Nearly 40 Years Ago. (1922, July 15). The Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), p. 3. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article191549002