John Barr was born in Paisley, Scotland and emigrated to with his family Otago in 1852. They first settled at Halfway Bush, Dunedin and then went south of the Clutha River, to Craigelea. One of his early works contrasted the new land of Otago with the poverty that many Scots had escaped from:
There’s nae place like Otago yet; There’s nae wee beggar weans
Or auld men shiverin’ at oor doors, To beg for scraps or banes.
We never see puir workin’ folk, Wi’ bauchals on their feet,
Like perfect icicles wi’ cauld, Gaun starvin’ through the street.
We never hear o’ breakin’ stanes A shilling by the yard;
Or puir folk roupit to the door, To pay the needfu’ laird.
Nae purse-proud upstart mushroom lord To scowl at honest toil,
Or break it down, that he, the wretch! May feed on roast and boil.
My curse upon them; root and branch; A tyrant I abhor;
May Despotism’s iron foot Ne’er mark Otago’s shore.
May wealth and labour, hand in hand, Work out our glorious plan;
But never let it be allowed That money makes the man.
Its language and sentiment was very much in the style of Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland, and Barr in his turn, would come to be referred to as the Bard of Otago. His style might well be described as "transplanted," and there were several poets who took their traditional style from home to Otago. In my opinion, John Barr was one of the better ones.
Immigration. — In a private letter, of date Feb. 17, addressed to J. McGlashan, Esq., from one of the British agents, the writer says: — "We have taken action as to sending out English immigrants from an English port, and no exertion will be spared by us to carry out the resolutions of the Provincial Council. You said you expected six ships to arrive before September, 1860, and we are glad to think that your expectations will be met. You have the "Sevilla," "Gala," "Storm Cloud," and the three for which we have entered into a contract with P. Henderson and Co. * * * We may mention that our first ship is already filled up with a first class set of emigrants. In the June ship a fine set of men will also leave, shepherds, ploughmen, &c, a number from Berwickshire of the right sort — all A. l. Mr. John Barr's effusion, "There's nae place like Otago yet," has told. It comes home to Scotchmen's hearts; it was a capital advertisement, and appeared in several of our papers." -Otago Witness, 19/5/1860.
JOHN BARR'S POEMS, SOUTH CRAIGIELEE.
Under the Patronage of His Honor the Superintendent, Hon. John Hyde Harris, &c.
THE MSS. of the above POEMS will be despatched to Scotland for PUBLICATION next Mail.
The price of each copy will not exceed five shillings.
Intending Subscribers will please to communicate with the following Members of the Committee: — James Kilgour, Treasurer
Smith & Marshall
A. McLeod
James S. Shanks
John Mollison
A. McLEOD, Hon. Secretary. August 29, 1860. -Otago Witness, 1/9/1860.
John Barr's poetry arrived in Otago at a time when all seemed stable and settled. The town of Dunedin was steadily growing and relative isolation from other centres meant that it could truly be described as the "Edinburgh of the South." Most of this, of course, was swept away very soon by the Otago gold rush, leading to calls to preserve "the old identity" of Otago, which in turn were satirised by Charles Thatcher, an Australian known as the "goldfields balladeer" who was very popular with the newer inhabitants of Otago.
The culture brought by the Scots to Otago was not overwhelmed, it continued along with the others which came with the goldseekers.
The Burns Anniversary was celebrated in Port Chalmers on the 24th last., at Crickmore's Royal Assembly rooms. The table was laid for 60, and the, viands, including a splendid "Haggis," were in quality, and quantity all that could be desired. The room was neatly and. appropriately decorated with flags and banners — hung in an improved manner; not as sometimes seen plastered on the walls. The chair was taken 9.30 p.m. by Mr John Barr — better known as "Craigelea" — supported on his right by the Superintendent; the Mayor of Port Chalmers acting as croupier. Every justice being done to Host Crickmore's good cheer, the usual loyal toasts were given from the chair, particular attention being paid to that for His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, whose visit is anxiously expected. The health of the Superintendent concluded the first part, His Honor's response occupying the company until midnight. When the toast of the evening, "The Poet Burns," was given, the chairman, in proposing the toast, in earnest and forcible language, eulogised the memory of the great poet, defending him from the charge of inebriety, which he (the Chairman) contended was more the fault of the days in which Burns lived, when, in contrast with the present time, it was not considered a disgrace to prolong festivities to an unusual extent. Yet the Poet always preserved his faculties, and this slander raised against him was in revenge for the manly and fearless way in which he tore the mantle of hypocrisy off the shoulders of the rich and great, exposing their vice and ignorance; and for his audacity in comparing to their tinsel grandeur the poor man's nobility. Deep silence was preserved throughout his address, and on resuming his seat, New Zealand's Bard was long and loudly applauded for an extemporaneous effort which, for beauty and force of language, could not be surpassed. The usual poetical and complimentary toasts followed; several of the Poet's songs were sung by the Chairman and others, as well as some of the Chairman's own composition; and at an early hour the proceedings were brought to a close, a hearty vote of thanks being accorded to Host Crickmore, for the excellence of his table. -Otago Witness, 1/2/1868.
THE BURNS CELEBRATION.
The 111th anniversary of the birth of Burns was celebrated by a dinner at the Royal Hotel on the 25th January. About thirty gentlemen sat down to a liberally provided table, the arrangement of which did credit to the taste of Host Procter. The national dish (a haggis) was in the place of honor, and was pronounced excellent; roast and boiled meats — both flesh and fowl — were abundant, and fruits, sweetmeats, to say nothing of oaten cakes, were also to the fore. The chair was occupied by Mr A. Morton, his Worship the Mayor officiating as croupier. After grace from the chair, the clatter of knives and forks and the ring of glasses told that the first business of the meeting was being carried out with a rigorous appreciation of the good things of this life. The "solemn duty of dining," as it has been termed — although on this occasion the proceeding partook more of hilarity than of solemnity — having been duly discharged with a "vim" and heartiness which few other duties command "the cloth was removed," as the phrase goes, and toasts, speeches, and songs became the order of the night.
After the usual loyal and patriotic toasts had been duly honored —
The Chairman called for bumpers for the toast of the evening, "The Memory of Burns," in proposing which he said that it was just 111 years ago that night that the Poet was born, and although "kittled" as he would have said himself — in an humble cottage, his name was now known and revered in every part of the civilised world (Hear, hear). They were met to-night to celebrate his birth, and throughout the Australian Colonies there were at that very moment numbers of meetings for the same purpose. Burns' manly independence, and his determined love of truth throughout a chequered career, had elevated him in the estimation and endeared him to the hearts of the people, not only in his own country, but in every part of the world where literature was appreciated. As an able writer had well said: — "Peer and peasant, the man of the highest culture and the humblest mechanic or tiller of the soil, have alike enshrined him in their hearts; the shepherd on Australian or New Zealand plains, the digger at his cradle, the sailor on the deck of his ship, the soldier in his barracks, the colonist on the banks of the St. Lawrence and by the shores of the great American Lakes — in short wherever men of British descent are to be found, there are the admirers of the great Scottish Poet." Many a time had he (the speaker) stood in the dilapidated cottage beneath whose roof Burns was born, and repeated his own quaint record of his birth —
Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Januar' win'
Blew handsel in on Robin.
The cutting blasts of the Januar' win' of adversity Burns had often to bear, but he always laughingly remarked that he could
snap his fingers, puir and hearty, ,
Before its face.
Burns was often called hard names by the "unco guid," but those same good people would do well to recollect the corrupt state of society in his time, and that Burns did a great deal to reform it by his able witty, and sarcastic poems. Although he sometimes did treat of vice in a comical manner, this was not because he was a supporter of wrong, but rather that he recognised that the more fully it was exposed the more afraid people would be to fall into error in sight of such a critic (applause). He would now call upon each and all to drain a bumper to "The immortal memory" in solemn silence.
The toast having been thus honored,
Mr Waddell recited Burns' "Epitaph on a Brother Poet."
The next toast upon the programme, "Brother Poets," was proposed by the Vice-Chairman, who said that in all ages and countries poetry had been a favorite study, and a favorite recreation. Every country had its historical legends, which for the most part, particularly in Oriental lands, had been transmitted to the present time through the songs of its bards and the writings of its poets. As distinguished from other writers, the poet seemed to have a special inspiration; there was something noble, something to be revered in his character. Every country, even in modern times, had its favorite poets, whom each thought superior to those of any other country. England, France, and Ireland, as well as Scotland, had each their favorite poets, and even in this young community — the Province of Otago — there were not wanting sons of song. He had for many years had the honor of the personal acquaintance of Mr John Barr, Craigielee, whose poems were well known to the people of Otago — a gentleman whom he might say he revered. And Oamaru had also its poet, a gentleman now present, and who he hoped would long be spared to do honor to his favorite pursuit, and to the town in which he resided. He would couple the toast with the name of Mr Steward. (Applause).
Song, Mr K. Lindsay— " Tak your auld cloak aboot ye."
Mr Steward, in responding to the toast, said that he had never felt himself more unequal than he now did to perform the task entrusted to him; for what was he that he should answer for the long roll of illustrious bards of all times and all countries to whom they had drained the cup? When he looked back through the long vista of ages to those poets, whose sublime writings had come down to them from the earliest times, full of a more than poetic inspiration — when he called to mind the illustrious names of the poets of Greece and Rome, in the ancient days of France, of Italy, of Germany, of England, of Scotland, of Ireland, and of America in later and in modern times — when he thought of the great living poets of the present day, whose' writings were household words — when he remembered that all these glorious names were those of men who stood in the front rank of humanity — men who soared high above their fellows in intellectual power and in grand and noble conceptions — men whose very names carried with them a magic power — he quailed before the magnitude of his task, and could sincerely say that he wished that it had fallen to the lot of someone gifted with an eloquence which would have enabled him, if not to do justice to it — for no man could do that in a single speech — at least to express more fully and worthily the feeling which filled all their hearts — his own no less than that of any present (applause). The vice-chairman had well said that in every country there was one poet, of all others, who was considered its representative poet; such was Burns in Scotland, Schiller in Germany, Beranger in France; and he might go through the list of European nations, and point in each to one great name which stood first on the list of its bards. These representative poets could not be compared with each other — all having their own special excellencies, each standing unapproachable in expressing some noble emotion or in chronicling some glorious deed. He might perhaps be permitted, as an Englishman, to avow his belief that, take him all in all, Shakespeare had the widest range and the most universal power, for Shakespeare was not only the bard of England but of the world; but Burns, as the poet of the hearth and home, had alike won the love and honor of every country where the English language was spoken, or into whose tongue his poems had been translated. And Scotland had many other poets, whoso songs were treasured and whose names were revered; there were Scott — and never writer portrayed the noble deeds of his countrymen with a more skilful hand, or infused into his words more of the soul of true poetry — Tannahill, Ramsay, the Ettrick Shepherd, and a host of others, and these all were included in the toast to which he had been deputed to respond. They would call them all to mind as he spoke, and they would think too, of Milton, of Cowper, of Gray, and of Moore ; of Tennyson, and Browning, and Longfellow, and would feel that the roll of the world's bards was that of the most illustrious men that it had produced, men who had been in themselves a power, and had helped greatly the progress of humanity. The pens of the world's poets had achieved more glorious victories, more lasting, more noble results, than the swords of its Caesars and its Alexanders, for there was a true logic in the saying, "Give me the making of the ballads of the people, and any other may make the laws" (Applause). The story of the chivalrous deeds, of the glorious struggles for the truth and right of their forefathers had come down to them in the songs of the bard, and awakened in their own bosoms the same noble impulses and the most precious truths of religion, and the highest and holiest aspirations of the soul, were revealed or evoked by a like instrumentality; for, could they but appreciate a tithe of what he saw and felt in his blindness they could soar with Milton on the wings of faith and love to the very throne of the Eternal. They none of them knew how much they owed to poetry. By it in their childhood they learned more of their nation's history, more of the high and glorious destiny of humanity, more of the wondrous beauty of nature, more of the highest possibilities of the soul, more, perhaps, of the precious truths of religion, in some stirring ballad, or noble poem, or hymn learned at their mother's knee, than by aught else, so imperceptibly, from their earliest moments, were the thoughts of the poet interwoven with the web of their lives. It was, therefore, well that all honor should be done to their countries' bards, well that the love of poetry should be cherished, and that even in this young country there should be some — though never-so-far behind the illustrious masters of song, who should endeavor, to the extent of their feeble capacity, to follow in their footsteps. The Vicechairman had alluded to the existence of some such in Otago, and had done him the honor to couple his name with theirs. For this he begged heartily to thank them, and had great pleasure in returning thanks for the manner in which the toast had been received. (Applause.)
Song, Mr Gavin McGhie — "Burns Farewell to the Masonic Lodge of Tarbolton."
The Chairman, in proposing "The Land o' Cakes and Brither Scots," said that he was glad to see both Englishmen and Irishmen amongst their number, and he was sure that the Scotch portion of the community would at any time be happy to return the compliment by taking part in any national celebration on the part of those hailing from the sister countries. The toast was drunk with enthusiasm.
Song, Mr Adair — "Bonnie Scotland."
The Vice-chairman, in an appropriate speech, proposed "The National Poets of all countries," which was duly honored.
Mr E. L. Livingston, who was called upon to respond, said that he was much in the position of the man who awoke one morning and found himself famous (Laughter). So was utterly at a loss to know why their choice had fallen upon him, for it was quite certain that had the national poets made their own selection they would never have chosen him to reply on their behalf (Renewed laughter). All countries had their national poets, whose writings had taken a firmer hold on the national mind than those of any others. Burns himself was one of these. His poems were read in all languages, and appreciated by all classes, from the highest to the lowest; they mingled in a sort of way with the common life of the people, and had done more to encourage a nobler national sentiment than the mere love of the baubees than any other book after the Bible itself. (Applause.)
The remaining toasts, "The Land we live in," "The Mayor and Corporation," "The Oamaru Caledonian Sooiety," "The Press," "The Ladies," "The Visitors," and "The Host and Hostess," were severally duly honored, and the proceedings were enlivened by excellent songs by Messrs Taylor, Thompson, Long, Gr. Stewart, and Gibbs, and "Tam o' Shanter," ably recited by Mr Mitchell.
The company broke up at a late hour. -North Otago Times, 18/2/1870.
M A S O N I C H A L L.
GRAND COMPLIMENTARY BENEFIT
(Under distinguished patronage) To MR JOHN BARR (Craigielee),
In aid of publishing his intended new work, on
TUESDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 20.
Doors open at half-past 7 y to commence at 8 o’clock.
THOMAS LOW, Secretary. -Evening Star, 16/9/1870.
POETICAL, DRAMATIC, AND HUMOROUS DELINEATIONS. MASONIC HALL.
Under the Distinguished Patronage of His Worship the Mayor.
MISS AITKEN (Mrs J. L. Bunten),
Assisted by MR MELCHOR WINTER.
On FRIDAY EVENING, JUNE 20.
PROGRAMME.
Part I.
Overture — "Fra Diavolo” Mr J. Moss.
The Death of Queen Katherine (‘‘Henry VIII.”) - Shakespeare
Lady Clare - Tennyson
Mr Caudle becomes a Freemason - Jerrold
Song — “An Angel Form” - Mr Winter.
The Bapteesment o’ the Bairn - Leighton
Song — “Man the Lifeboat” - Mr Winter
The Bridge of Sighs - Hood
Come Whoam to thy Childer and me (Lancashire poem) - Waugh
Song —“Nora Mullane" - Mr Winter.
The Bells .... E.A.. Poe
Part II
Pianoforte — Selections “The May Queen,” — Part 1, May Morning — Part 2, New Year’s Eve Part 3, The Deathbed - Tennyson
Song — “The Soldier,” adapted by Mr Winter.
Rosalind and Orlando — (“As You Like It”) - Shakespeare
Miss Aitken and Gentleman Amateur. ‘‘Dunedin from the Bay” - Thomas Bracken
“Dear to my heart, art thou, my native land ” - John Barr, of Craigielee (Dedicated to the Caledonian Society of Otago, at their Annual Gathering, 1873.)
“Candle joins the Skylark Club” - Jerrold
Song — "Newfoundland Dog” Mr Winter
Interview between Queen Caroline, Duke of Argyle, and Jeannie Deans - Scott
Mr. J. MOSS will preside at the Piano.
Admission. — Reserved Seats, 3s; Second, 2s. Doors open at 7.30, to commence at 8. -Evening Star, 19/6/1873.
Mr John Barr, bard of the Caledonian Society, has lately been on a trip to Scotland. While there, he visited the hills of Craigilee, and had made, from woods of that locality, two mallets to be used by the President and Vice-President at the meetings of the Society. The mallets are silver-mounted, and bear each an inscription, stating the donor's name, and the month and year. Mr Barr also presented the Society with a "bicker," manufactured from the wood of a tree which grew by the gable of "Alloway's auld haunted kirk, on the banks of the Doon," and containing an engraving of the interior of Burns' cottage. Mr Barr in making his presentation to the Society, hoped "they will be in possession of the Society long after we shall be sleeping soundly under the soil of New Zealand." -Bruce Herald, 5/12/1876.
RURAL RAMBLES
KAIHIKU (excerpt)
I said at the Commencement of this article that Kaihiku would be about the last locality one would imagine that a poet would elect to reside in; yet in the Old Identity times in Kaihiku a poet once abode, whose songs, if scarcely capable of electrifying their readers, must at least have helped in those primeval and simple days, when literature of an enlivening kind must have been conspicuous by its dearth, to lighten many a fireside by its broad caricatures or satirical hits. The author of the "Old Identities," from which I have already quoted (a work that, with its pleasant descriptions of these friendly old days, deserves a place in the library of every settler in Otago) remarks of Mr John Barr "that if not possessed of the genius of Burns, he had at least a happy knack of rhyming in Scotch." There are few who have read Mr Barr's poems but will readily grant this compliment to their author. If a little coarse in the fibre of their composition, they at least exhibit a force of character that proves Mr Barr had the power of fully infusing what he wished to express into his metrical productions, and this, in my opinion, is no mean trait of a true poet. And for that reason the manners of the people and the everyday life of those days are well represented in Mr Barr's poems, that will entitle their author to some niche in the public memory when he finally quits the stage of life, for the undoubted benefits of his muse to them in those days. Of Mr Barr's merits as a writer I would here remark that the same cause that was the occasion of his prominence seems to me to have been, chiefly also that of his weakness. His being alone, then, as a provincial poet, or opposed only by such as he was easily enough enabled to excel, he too surely, in his writings, shows the conviction that if the mantle of the Ayrshire ploughman had not exactly fallen upon his shoulders, it had at least dropped at no very great distance from them. Hence, instead of conceiving that, with the gift he undoubtedly had, added to by sedulous improvement, he might possibly attain to some degree of respectability as a poet, deeming this position to be his own already he evidently mistook what was merely caricature and farce for productions of choice humour and witty satire. Mr Moffatt pointed out to me the site where Mr Barr's residence once stood, and in which so many of his productions, bearing in his book the name of South Craigilea before the date, were written, giving me at the same time some anecdotes of the genial old fellow, who seemingly, from their evidence, was not wholly free from those eccentricities of character for which so many of the rhyming fraternity are so peculiar. Of his old cottage close beside Mr Moffatt's residence, beside the Kaihiku bush, now scarcely a vestige remains, although for years after his leaving Kaihiku it did duty as a church for the district. It is now about two-and-twenty years since Mr Barr left Kaihiku, having resided in all about seven years in the district. In lieu of his old house, however, Kaihiku is now well supplied with a church of her own, and which, for architectural taste, is about the prettiest building I have seen within any of the country districts in Otago. — The Pedlar. -Otago Witness, 6/9/1884.
FUNERAL NOTICE.
THE Friends of the late Mr John Barr, Craigielea, are respectfully invited to attend his Funeral, which will leave his late residence, Ravensbourne, on SATURDAY, the 21st inst., at 3 p.m., for the Northern Cemetery, passing Pelichet Bay about 3.45 p.m.
HUGH GOURLEY. Undertaker, Clarke and Maclaggan streets. -Evening Star, 19/9/1889.
OBITUARY.
At the ripe period of fourscore years, another of the old celebrities of Otago has closed his earthly career, leaving a blank spot in a field which for a long time he honorably and creditably occupied. Mr John Barr, of Craigielea, was a native of Paisley, having been born there in 1809, and, like most other Scotchmen of the first half of this century, received his education in the then familiar parish school. Receiving a practical knowledge in his trade as an engineer, he started business as engineer and iron ship builder with his friend Mr McNab in that rather out-of-the-way place, his native town, and speedily the firm of Barr and McNab attained considerable eminence from the high-class steamers turned out by them at their yards on the banks of the river Cart. Those among us familiar with the Clyde steamers will remember the Lady Brisbane and the Lady Kilburne, built by the firm for the Largs trade, and the Plover, Petrel, and Pioneer for the Greenock Railway Company, which, in the latter half of the forties, were the crack steamers sailing the Firth. Unfortunately, heavy losses in connection with a contract for larger vessels brought the firm to a melancholy termination, and, with a somewhat shattered spirit, Mr Barr determined to sever connection with the location of his early life, and make for himself and family a new home in a new sphere, Having formed his resolution passages were secured by the ship Dominion, from London, and Otago was safely reached on 28th September, 1852. After looking around a bit Mr Barr made a selection of land at Halfway Bush, naming it Craigielea; but finding this position too circumscribed, he some years later bought a farm at Kaihiku, where he continued until the discovery of the goldfields, when he sold out to Mr Kettle, and brought his family back to Dunedin, in and around which he has since resided. A few years ago a tidy sum fell to his lot in his native town, which required a personal visit to obtain possession, and which kept his circle in comfortable circumstances. Mr Barr leaves behind his widow, two sons, and two daughters.
Although not one of the earliest settlers in Otago, yet his residence of itself has been sufficiently long to entitle his name to be reckoned among the old worthies. On much more prominent grounds, however, his claim to special notice is based, as he was the first inhabitant of the province who claimed and obtained, in his day, the rank and status of a poet. It is true that in these days of hypercritical stricture and inflated vanity little credit would be awarded to his poetry, either as regards its composition or highflown sentiment; but in his time it suited the requirements of the people — it spoke from the heart to the heart, and in many a home and at many a hearth feelings joyful or the reverse have been awakened by his simple melodies. In almost every weekly issue of the Dunedin paper for several years appeared a piece of poetry from his fertile imagination, sometimes written in a humorous vein, oftentimes personal and individually offensive, at other times in a serious, reflective mood. Perhaps one of his best stanzas, somewhat on an idea of Burns, may be quoted as a specimen of the latter style—
My fancy roves 'mang glens and groves, Whilst fa's the briny tear;
There lie the buried memories o' many a bygone year.
Nor was it alone in the newspaper columns that Mr Barr's gifts as poet had opportunity to be displayed. In the earlier days, on the celebration of Burns anniversary, some of his best efforts were put forth, and after the formalities of the occasion were gone through it fell to the lot of Mr Barr by universal selection to refer to his great predecessor in poesy, and on more than one occasion he gave utterance to grand thoughts, clothed in appropriate language, to which some of the oft-quoted unintelligible rhymesters of this age, who are lauded for verbosity only, would have given their best endeavors to have the authorship placed to their name. A little later on in our provincial history the Caledonian Society sprang into life, and the members can tell the thrill of real nationality which permeated their every fibre when "Craigielea," with his whole soul beaming in his countenance, would speak aloud in "guid broad Scotch" those heart words, carrying a weight in each and all of them telling that the man who expressed them realised the depth of their meaning; and the great majority of his listeners, in profound sympathy with him, cheered to make "the rafters ring" when John Barr "spak o' Wallace and Bruce" — so much so that several foreigners to Scotland expressed the wish that they had been born in that immortal country. In the more private circle of individual life Mr Barr had his "cronies." The photograph of Kilgour, Finlay, and Barr, as taken by another old worthy, McGregor, is almost up to one of Burns's choicest scenes. With many others also he was a familiar friend, and during his stay in the country his periodic visits to Dunedin were anticipated with great delight. Smith's and Marshall's, Healy's, McLeod's, and Gibson's, all were open to his welcome visits. In 1860, at a meeting of a few of his friends in Dunedin, it was determined to make a collection of his poetic effusions and have them published in book form, which was accordingly done at Edinburgh, the Dunedin printers at that time being unable to undertake the work. The late Mr John McGlashan was entrusted with the work of revising and correcting, but by general testimony, when the book was printed, these gratuitous labors were severely spoken of as having thoroughly emasculated the author's productions. For a considerable time past Mr Barr has led a very retired life, seldom visiting Dunedin, confining his walks to the harbor side. To very many, however, the news of his death will be heard with great regret. J. Mcl. -Evening Star, 19/9/1889.
— Mr John Barr, known in Dunedin as the "Water of Leith poet," died on September 18 at his residence, Ravensbourne, Otago. Mr Barr who was eighty years of age when he died, was born in Paisley, Scotland, and arrived in New Zealand in 1852. He was an apt versifier, and some of his poems bore traces of deep feeling and great sympathy with nature. In 1861 he published a book of songs which is still to be found in Dunedin libraries. For many years he lived near the picturesque Water of Leith, until recently when he removed to Ravensbourne. Mr Barr had also an estate at Craigielea. In addition to his poems, Mr Barr was an occasional contributor to several New Zealand journals. -Observer, 9/11/1889.
TO THE EDITOR.
Sir, — Several names having been suggested to replies that of West Harbour, I have thought of "Craigielea" as being an, appropriate one. My reason for mentioning that name is not altogether on account of the "bonnie woods" in that district, which charm the eye of visitors when sailing up or down our "beautiful harbour," but to that of the memory of the late "Johnny" Barr, one of Otago's early settlers, and provincial bard, who for many years lived — or tried to — on his small farm, "Craigielea," Wakari. His poetical works didn't keep the "pot boiling," as the cottiers in early days worked from daylight to dark, consequently there was very little time left for reading poetry, excepting, perhaps, on the Sawbath Day, which in those days was looked upon as a day of absolute rest. Scotch poetry has a bad effect on those who are religiously inclined. Some 30 odd years ago John Barr was appointed by the Provincial Government; to the position of lighthouse-keeper at Black Jack's Point —the locality boing about where the Ravensbourne Baths now are. — I am, etc.,
Albany. -Otago Daily Times, 11/5/1903.
Northern Cemetery, Dunedin.
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