MEDICAL PRACTICE IN OTAGO AND SOUTHLAND IN THE EARLY DAYS.
By Robert Valpy Fulton, M.D.
XXIII. —DR EBENEZER HALLEY, OF TUAPEKA. (Continued.)
Mention of Sergeant Garvey's tragic end will show our readers that travel on the Lammerlaws and Maungatua in the winter time was very dangerous, and with shepherds' huts at El Dorado, Post Office Creek, the Exhibition, and Taieri Ferry, Halley had some nerve racking journeys before him, but so far as danger from bushrangers was concerned he was practically immune, most of them at one time or another had received kindness for themselves or their friends and took good care not to interfere with him. Payment in kind was not infrequent, but most of his cash came in in coarse gold, small nuggets, and gold dust, many the "shammy" bag carelessly tossed down with "there you are doc, thank you, old man, and it is little enough, too." Grateful were these men, numbers of them rough in the exterior, but were the truth known many well educated English University men, sons of Scottish ministers and professors, Irishmen bearing names with a history stretching away into the past, others with a humble upbringing and indifferent education, but with kindly hearts and instincts of the truest gentlemen, men who would scorn to tell a lie, steal a halfpenny from a neighbour, or do an unkind action to man, woman, or child.
Mr Henry Walton, of Waikanae, in a vivid description of his experiences in the Jubilee booklet before mentioned, tells us of an old gentleman of the Joe stamp, who, with bell topper headgear, arrived from Melbourne. He was one of those whom so far Dame Fortutue had forsaken, or rather had never helped. The Australian diggings had attracted him, and having been partly successful he had acquired a taste for the life, and where is the man who would not, had he once had the experience. Though a gentleman born, his wife a lady of refinement, and his children well brought up, he had sacrificed almost everything for this search for the apparently unattainable, had spent all he had, and had been reduced to the utmost extremities. For seven years he had done his best to no purpose; they had, indeed, been seven lean years, and now by some means he had managed to get across to this new goldfield, and, eager as ever, hoped to do the trick at last. He had brought his son with him, but had left his wife and daughter behind to heaven only knows what sufferings, and in what straits. Says Walton: "We laid him on to a piece of our ground, and he had a splendid claim. He next sank in a little blind gully just below the Blue Spur, and he got into very rich gold, and when we left Gabriel's Gully he was in fortune's lap at last. I have never seen him since. How Walton missed it on one occasion may be shortly mentioned. He and his mates were offered the Blue Spuir Claim, which was slabbed and down 57 feet, but they thought it was too dangerous and would not buy. Some sailors took it and in their venturesome way dug still deeper, but only had to go two feet when they bottomed, and came on good gold, taking out 90 ounces in a couple of days' work.
At first there was no police protection, and the miners took the law into their own hands. Strong parties would try to dispossess weaker ones, men from the wild American goldfields, where little or no law existed, tried bluff and bullying. Several narrow escapes from lynching occurred and are on record. It is more than likely Halley had experiences and possible results of the kind to investigate, but was sensible enough to keep his own counsel, and to say nothing about them. Scores of deaths occurred in those days in New Zealand without any inquests being held, and many were the bodies interred without the certificate of death being necessary or even asked for. Even when death certificates became necessary by law it was a considerable time before the cause of death was inserted or the attending doctor's name mentioned.
On the goldfields were many desperate characters of both sexes, but even those respected Dr Halley's cloth, and realised that he was there to better their condition, and treated him accordingly. There were also many men of his own profession, though their identity was seldom disclosed or discovered until after they had left the district. One such, a huge man named Lee, turned the scale at 22 stone, a good natured giant who would hurt nobody, and whose constant difficulty was to find a horse that could carry him anywhere. He went from diggings to diggings with apparently little success, finally landing on the West Coast, where he announced that he was a doctor, to the extent of pinning a notice to that effect on his back. This was visible as he tramped the tracks, men looking back to scan his mighty bulk were attracted by the little card across his burly shoulders, and hastened after him to read it or hailed him inquiringly. In 1865 he was tramping heavily along the rough road from Greymouth to the Teremakau, when he was met by a digger who, catching a glimpse of the card, asked him eagerly if he was a real doctor, and on being assured that he was, asked if he could pull a tooth for him. A tree stump was selected as an operating chair, down went the great pack, speedily was it unstrapped, and a frightful instrument called a "tormentor" or "key" extracted therefrom. The longtroubling molar very quickly followed suit, and the coughing, spitting, but delighted miner anted up a bag of gold dust, handed half to the operator, saying: "There you are doc, I put past eight ounces to take me to Nelson, you have saved me the trip, and there's your share." The gold sold for £l5 4s, and Dr Lee, for it appears he really was a member of the London College of Surgeons, said it was the best patch of gold he had ever struck in his life. Dr Halley had many similar experiences — tooth extraction was a regular every day occupation — but we have no record of his having lighted upon quite such a good "pocket." With the risks he ran from exposure, the actual sufferings he endured, Halley's short career was indeed heroic.
It is not difficult for us to vizualise the old doctor as, sunburned and blistered by exposure to the elements, he goes plodding steadily against the merciless storm, fingers encased in heavy gloves, muffled in heavy overcoat up to the eyes and ears, bowed forward upon his old horse's neck, trusting his very life to his sagacity and wonderful instinct. The howling of the storm, the swirling of the snow, the tremendous drifts upon the right hand or the left of the deeply covered and invisible track - all these warned the old nag that he indeed had to walk warily or both he and his rider would find themselves floundering in 20 feet of smother. Across the moors the tracks if uncovered were rough and boggy: insummer time the mountain sides dangerous from loose cobbles and boulders; streams mere rivulets in the morning, freshets at midday, were turbulent torrents by night: one had always to reckon on the weather, and to endeavour to forecast it, if one had any hope of returning home on the same or the following day. Buggies with hoods did not exist, vehicles of any kind except bullock drays were impossible in that wild and rugged land, and Halley battling in the snow and frost, his saddlebags of instruments and emergency medicines strapped in front of him, year in, year out, by night and by day, was assuredly killed in action as were so many of our pioneer medical men in the very prime of his life. His devotion to duty was his distinguishing characteristic, and of this his patients give many illustrations, but one will suffice: Called urgently to someone residing at the Beaumont, 13 miles from Lawrence, just before midnight on a bitterly cold stormy night, he set out on his journey and reached the Molyneux — no mere trickle of water as our readers know. Finding the punt had been swept away, he forthwith put his faithful nag straight into the boiling torrent, and swam across, the husband of the patient who was anxiously awaiting him, guiding him by waving to and fro a Ballarat lantern — that is, a candle in a bottle.
We have been fortunate in obtaining the following interesting reminiscences of him from Mr James Robertson, well known as one of the pioneers of Tuapeka, as was his father before him. At the first rush to Gabriel's and Munro's Gully, and the news of Wetherstones, German Flat, then Waitahuna, following, there came large numbers of able bodied miners from every quarter of the globe. These were men who were in the van of progress everywhere, and many who had had practical experience on Australian, Californian, and other goldfields. To quote a verse written on the early pioneer miner by the late J. J. Ramsay, Hyde:
From England's fens and Scotia's glens
And Erin's Emerald Isle,
From every strand of Europe's land
They cams for the golden pile.
A stalwart band on every hand
No better could you ken,
Than the brave pioneers of the early years
The hardy goldfields men.
In a few short months the turmoil and busy travelling to and fro partially ceased, and a comparatively settled community of stalwart miners were in and around the Tuapeka district. Some of the leading spirits commenced to exert themselves by taking the lead in building a church and school, and they soon felt the need of a hospital. The reasons held out for the immediate building of a hospital were that as the shallow claims were getting worked out, and the miners tackled the deeper ground, the work became more dangerous. At the head of Gabriel's they were beginning the tunnelling of the Blue Spur, Ballarat Hill, etc., and accidents were now becoming more numerous, so a meeting was called and the subject mooted. An appeal was made to the Government for a subsidy. This was granted, the Government was to pay £2 for every £1 raised. A call was then made upon the miners, business men, and others, which was generously responded to, and the first, or as they now term it, the old hospital was duly erected. It was only a shell built of weatherboards, a building of no pretence. It was a long lean-to in shape, without any lining inside, and, as the boards shrunk after a time, they required little or no ventilation. It was not long erected before the space was filled with many bad and severe cases, caused by the pressure of water and heavy treacherous wash breaking and crushing the timbers and often entrapping the miners. Blasting operations and tunnelling into the heavier deposits such as the first operations at the Blue Spur kept up the supply. There were no divisions or apartments in the main ward. The stretchers were put alongside of one another, and as the operations went on a light width of calico followed the operator. The doctor had an "open'' practice. He might be at Waipori, Waitahuna, Greenfield, Moa, or Miller's Flat, when a bad case of crushing would arrive, arms or legs broken, and it was then a case of waiting until he arrived. On one very cold frosty night a trap passed through the town with a miner crushed and mangled through a collapse of timber in one of the shafts, and as I lived in the neighbourhood of the hospital and knew the miner, I volunteered to go up and assist to carry him into the ward. It was found that the doctor had been called to a case in the neighbourhood of Round Hill at the head of Waitahuna Gully, 10 or 12 miles away, and we had to await his arrival. Along with one of the miner's mates I sat patiently from about 9.30 p.m. until near midnight, and at last Dr Halley arrived. The long cold ride seemed to me to have unfitted him for work, but after a short rest, some food, and a reviver, he braced himself up, entered the ward, examined the patient, had a general look around the rest in the ward, and asked me to stay by the patient for a time, as my services would be required later. He then went away, but the wardsman came back and I assisted himi to give the patient some drug or medicine that a glass contained, having to my mind the smell of laudanum. The warder busied himself with getting a calico screen erected, bandages, etc., and as soon as his work was completed, Dr Halley appeared and came to where I was seated alongside the now sleeping miner. The doctor's sleeves were rolled up, and after a lot of bandaging and splints of a broken arm, breast crushed, and ribs protruding, the operation was over, and I was asked to stay with the wardsmen for an hour or two. This was my first introduction to the hospital, but it turned out not by any means the last, as on other occasions I was called on to assist, but I shall never forget the experience I had given me that night. There was a cold frosty wind blowing through the warped weatherboards, and the patients were more or less like myself shivering with cold. I compared it then to a refrigerator, and have no need to alter my statement now. Later on things improved, as the leading men of the district and the large hearted and generous miners again started a movement to erect a better hospital. Funds were raised, concerts and lectures given —such performers came to the rescue as Dr Carr, a renowned mesmerist, Billy Barlow, and other celebrated entertainers came to scoop a pool in the district, and, being apnroached by the wellwishers of the hospital they would announce two nights' performances for themselves and one night's entertainment proceeds in full to go to the local hospital. As these amounts carried a two to one subsidy there never was the slightest difficulty for years in raising sufficient funds to meet all requirements. Any entertainment, sixpenny readings, lectures, or address given in aid of hospital funds was generally crowded to the door. I will now try to give you a description of Dr Halley as he appeared to me in the early sixties. He was six feet high and straight in appearance, not built on robust lines, being as my old father would say of a light ribbed horse "tight about the waistband of his breeks." Black, straight hair, moustache, and whiskers tapering to a point, with little or no side whiskers, and as he had long tapering jaw bones and a long chin he had a striking appearance. He was the same width all the way, reserved in his manner, slow and staid in his movements, quiet in speech and address to a stranger, but very different when speaking with a friend or in an after dinner speech in jovial company. He was a well educated gentleman, and as a surgeon highly spoken of, and from the operations I saw him perform both in and outside hospital, I should say he understood his business. Methodical in his movements, he would perform critical operations in a quiet, steady masterly manner. He was very well liked by the multitude. "Well off" patients had to pay for his skill, but to many a poor fellow down on his luck no account was ever rendered. He was an enigma to many who could not fathom his friendship. He knew not the value of money as long as he could "float" easily. After the Dunstan Rush he was on the look out for a good reliable horse, and he gave me an order for one out of the next shipment. I examined the lot as they arrived, and I suggested that a flea bitten grey, half Arab horse called Jordan, was the most suitable for his work, as he required a good honest, easy, safe "conveyance," reliable in every way. This horse was well educated, but getting white with age, but good for many a year still. I think the price we fixed upon was £35, good young horses up to his weight and reliable were bringing £50 to £60. When my father purchased this horse in Dunedin the shipper gave him a great pedigree, and he was christened Jordan, as he was the first horse to appear with his rider at the Snowy River Rush. Dr Halley wished me to bring Jordan to his residence at 11 a.m. next day, to see my father in the meantime, and tell him "the usual." I thought then it was a strange way of putting it. Next day I took Jordan to keep the appointment and found the doctor waiting. I produced a promissory note for the amount payable in three months. The doctor duly signed same, handing it back to me, and rising from the table with a long drawn sigh he said: "Thank God that's paid, Jimmie." I told father all about mv interview; he laughed and said that was "the usual" he spoke to you about, as the doctor made it a practice to buy his horses on bills. Jordan proved an ideal horse for a very long time, carrying him safely over rough broken gullies and long trying journeys. Later on some "fly customer" palmed a big long-legged handsome bay hack on to the doctor in exchange for the old white Jordan, as he said it did not look well for a doctor to have his black suit covered with white hairs. On one occasion I saw Dr Halley and old Jordan together under very peculiar circumstances. Three bullock drays were camped on a high hill overlooking the Upper Menzion Crossing, on the Ormaglade Station. We were on a return journey from the Teviot, making for the Beaumont Station to load wool and sheepskins to take back to Lawrence. We had been delayed by bad weather, and the bullocks had strayed the morning I refer to, it being foggy and difficult to see above one or two hundred yards ahead. The other two hands went off in search of the strayed bullocks and I was left in charge of the camp, and as our tucker had run out by breakfast time, and we could not replenish until we reached the Beaumont Station, about eight miles away, I put on a good fire and started to mix up dough boys, having flour and sugar. I soon had a bucket with boiling water going, filled same with dough nuts with the intention of feeding my mates and self when they returned with the bullocks. I had them boiling full steam ahead and had also the billy boiling, when looking at the hill where I expected my mates to come, a little to the right an apparition appeared. It was like a charred stem of a tree or straining post, and something white following it; but as they came nearer I saw it was Dr Halley and his faithful servant, Jordan. I said, "Hullo, doctor, where have you come from?" He then told me that he had been out and lost since the afternoon before, it was then between 11 and 12 o'clock in the day. I saw he was clearly knocked up, having had nothing to eat since dinner-time the day before, so I told him to sit down against one of the bullock drays and rest, and I let the old horse's bridle go so that he could get his fill. A pannikin of hot tea and a tin plate of doughboys soon worked wonders with the doctor. When I tell you he had three helpings of doughboys and brown sugar for sauce, you will realise that the poor fellow was almost starving. His journey must have been about 30 miles across deep ravines and mountain ranges. I told him to lie down and rest for an hour or two; it would do him and the horse good, and I would then direct him to the Beaumont Station, which he could reach in a couple of hours. While he was resting he told me that he had been called up the night previously to see some person who was ill at Walter Miller's old Ormaglade Station hut near the Timor. A messenger had been sent from the station to pilot him on the way; he was one of the station hands on horseback, and taking the track from Lawrence to Bellamy's, up the Black Hill to Kelso Cleugh crossing, forded the Beaumont, and climbed the Devil's Backbone, passed Beaumont Station, crossed the Menzion Burn at the middle crossing, over the Oven Hill, and down the leading range to near the Timor. Attending to this case until midday next day, he had dinner, and was then put on the track for home, and told to keep to the right over the Oven Hill, and to go straight down the narrow ridge, to cross the Menzion at the old Portugese crossing, with the intention of making Beaumont Station that night. Having, as he said, plenty of time, he let the old horse climb the range at a walking pace, but before he reached the top of the Oven Hill he was enveloped in mist. Old Jordan, I suspect, smelling the track of our horse that had passed a few hours before bore a little to the left, taking up the heights to the Upper Menzion, and he had been wandering and leading his horse about all night in the vicinity of our camp, as he was afraid to lie down. After he had a good rest I went and caught old Jordan, and giving directions of how to reach the station, I handed the reins to the doctor, who had to lead the horse down a steep face to the crossing. Bidding me good-bye and the best of luck, he braced himself up and said with one of his dry humorous smiles: "Jimmie, I never enjoyed a feed like that in my life," and knowing the doctor so well I believe he meant it. Fancy the transformation scene of the doctor coming to me an hour or two before like a walking pair of tongs and leaving with a corporation like a rainbow. The lanky, long-legged horse that he got to fill the place of honest old Jordan he christened or named Smuggler. His reason was that he reckoned that the horse's former owner had not only taken his £5 to boot, but had done him out of a horse suitable for a doctor's work worth two of the other one, but as I told the doctor, "he had the experience." Let me describe this noted animal, as he played a very important part in the life and work of Dr Halley. He stood about 16 hands high, bay with black points, and, having a lengthy formation, he was a difficult horse to steer; slightly ewe-necked, with what a horsey man would term "a mean head," and, as the saying is "no brains." It had evidently been the custom or habit of the former owner to call at every pub when he was travelling to Wetherstones, Waitahuna, or elsewhere to have a social chat or pick up trade, stop a little while, then mount and on to the next, so Smuggler and the doctor got on very well for a time, but it was found before long that Smuggler was inclined to jib and stop at some of the hotels when he was not wanted to. One day about noon the doctor was called out on an urgent case to Wetherstones, only three miles away. He saddled up and led Smuggler down to Harrop's chemist shop, to get some medicine, then round the Bank of New South Wales corner into Ross place, mounted, and was going at a pretty smart pace to keep his appointment, when opposite the Masonic Hotel Smuggler thought he was expected to stop, turned sharply off the road on to the footpath in front of the bar door, and stopped dead, which resulted in the poor doctor embracing Smuggler's neck with his long arms, narrowly escaping a severe fall. As it was an urgent case, some onlooker taking in the situation led Smuggler past what is now the railway station, and the doctor then made Smuggler travel, for a time, but half-way to Wetherstones Shamate's pub was in the way. The doctor slowed down the pace on account of the experience he had had previously, but Smuggler being in an obstinate mood slewed in off the road, and it was some considerable time before the doctor reached his patient's house to find that a fine baby boy had arrived before him; but as both mother and son were well, he joined some jovial companions, hung Smuggler's reins over one of the tie posts in front of the Sportsman's Arms Hotel, on the corner of Little Bourke street and Broadway, in the centre of Wetherstones, went in with a few pals, drank the health of the ch'ild, and then drank each other's health. After a spell they held a consultation. The doctor and a character named Bill Moss, old Darby, another gentleman of note, and others had joined and entered into a brotherhood, the name of which I forget. But as they had no badge at hand, they agreed that every member of that brotherhood should go to the barber's and have a shave. Now the main barber in Wetherstones was a named Henry Coverlid. He was stuck up by Garret's crowd at Maungatua after this, and later was in Dimedin as Coverlid and Mantell. He was a bit of a wag in his own way, and knew each member of this brotherhood personally. He proposed to give all the members of this brotherhood the Prince Imperial shave. This was a clean shave of all but a few hairs between the under lip and chin: every member went through the ordeal bravely. I saw three of them immediately afterwards "showing the badge," and I say this, their own mothers would not have known them, especially the doctor's, whose long drawn out jaws narrowing to a point made his visage "appear like a railway explosion." After a reviver some of the brotherhood got old Smuggler, who had been patiently waiting, bade the doctor good-bye, and saw the old horse headed for home. Smuggler, being hungry, and having his head, when he came to Lawrence turned up Whitehaven street past the Catholic Chapel, up Colonsay street, and up Peel street, and landed at Mount Eagle House, and here he was unsaddled and fed and bedded. It was now quite late, and the doctor rang the bell and knocked at the door, but the women folk inside, nervous no doubt in those stirring times, opened the door an inch and called "If you require the doctor he is not at home, you had better come to-morrow." This was the stock expression used when the women were alone, and they thought a burglar or tramp was at the door. They then carefully barred and bolted the door. The doctor, locked out of his own house, had to find a bed at Basting's Hotel, and arrived at his home in the morning, much to the relief of his wife, who was afraid an accident had happened to him. (To be concluded). -Otago Witness, 31/8/1920.
MEDICAL PRACTICE IN OTAGO AND SOUTHLAND IN THE EARLY DAYS.
By Robert Valpy Fulton, M.D.
XXIV.—EBENEZER HALLEY, OF TUAPEKA AND THE GOLDFIELDS (CONTINUED).
Mr James Robertson in his reminiscences continues:— "Dick Lancaster, a well-known resident, when in 'merry mood' very often used to say to lend force to his argument, 'Go it while you're young.' He was a renowned character, a leader of fashion, running a wholesale slaughtering establishment and doing a large trade in dealing in stock, and when dressed in his best style looked a typical gentleman. He was christened by many friends Dick the Plunger; to closer acquaintance, he was Dick Lancaster. Periodically he went off on a spree or 'burst.' Gambling and drinking being indulged in. On one occasion he went down to the Toko races, got in with some social friends from Balclutha and Dunedin, and had a good time playing cards for pretty high stakes, etc. I will give you the names of several —first, a well known sporting doctor; a contractor who built Greenfield Station house; Pritchard, and a host of other old time sports like Harry Prince, Carson, etc. Dick Lancaster was invariably lucky, and he succeeded in rooking them of about £850 in a few days, and when Harry Prince had only a racehorse left, a beautiful grey, Dick staked another blood horse, called Antinello, that the late David Carson had imported from Melbourne. Antinello had "dead-heated" at Flemington with a champion some time before. It was a case of double or quits, Dick winning the pair and returning with his spoil a few days after this event. A lot of worthies were standing in front of the Commercial Hotel door when Dick came up Peel street to deposit his treasure in the Bank of New Zealand; he was dressed in the height of fashion, everything spick and span, and riding a high spirited horse. He was hailed on arrival by many old friends, an adjournment made, and a few good stories told, which led up to a spree or shall I say a jovial night in the same hotel a week or two later. The Commercial was the largest as well as the leading hotel in the town. Horace Bastings ran it on ideal lines, and having an eye to business he lost no chance in catering for all classes of his customers. Up-to-date lunches and dinners were given to assist his gentleman customers or the elite of Lawrence to enjoy a pleasant day or night, but the expenses of same were often defrayed by the visitors!!! Soon after the event I have just related occurred, there was an announcement that there was to be a special up-to-date dinner held, the proprietor making it known that it was to mark an unusual occasion, Horace and the doctor being the only two in the swim. Special gilt-edged invitation cards were sent to all the leading men of note, such as M. Farrer, banker. New South Wales, Ochiltree, banker, Wetherstones, Dr Stewart, Dick Lancaster, Dr Halley, Drummond, the head surveyor, and a large crowd of warm friends. My father must have got an inkling of the business of the evening, for he told me he was going, and that Dr Halley had asked (Jimmie) me to be sure and be there, and he would see that Horace let me in.
"On the night of this memorable occasion a large and respectable gathering of gentlemen sat down in the spacious dining room to an excellent dinner, Horace Bastings taking the seat at one end of the table and the doctor at the other. Mine host opened the proceedings by a few introductory remarks and invited one and all to set to and take advantage of the many good things provided, which was duly done; social chat, song, and story followed. After a time a number of toasts were proposed and responded to. The visitors being in a quandary as to the object of the occasion. Horace in his best style said that he had one important toast to propose, which he felt sure would be joined in by the intelligent visitors present. The toast was, 'Here's to the great men and master minds who make history,' coupled with the name of his medical friend, Dr Ebenezer Halley. This important toast was duly honoured by one and all, and I will endeavour to give you the gist of the doctor's elegant reply, my memory being slightly at fault as to a great many bright allusions and illustrations used. I think I can see the doctor rising to reply, his great tall form erect, with face as serious as a graven image, he held forth something in this style. 'In replying to this very important toast introduced for the first time on the goldfield by his friend, Horace Bastings, he could not do better than bring medical science to bear testimony to the importance of living well in order to bring out the best results obtainable in life. A healthy man was a rich asset in every community. When the Maker of this mighty universe placed Adam in the Garden of Eden he provided him with abundance of fruit on every side. Medical research has proved without a doubt that fruit and the juice thereof contain health and life giving properties, conducive to the developing of master minds. From Noah, who built the Ark, up to the present day giants, are many whose faculties have been developed to such an extent that they are shaking the world with their force of character. Even Solomon with all his wisdom would have little or no chance in the running nowadays. Many weeks ago at a caucus held in a distant part of our colony a large number of master minds assembled; they were representatives from every part of the civilised world, recognised authorities in wisdom and power of intellect in their own land, and in that large assemblage of intelligent men there was one who towered like a Goliath above all the rest. He had been educated in all the fine arts that wisdom and subtlety could devise, so that the rest were as pigmies in his hands, and they had to do obeisance to that mighty intellect. He could not do better than quote a few words for the guidance of those present from this eminent authority, the right Honorable Sir Richard Lancaster the striking words 'Go it while you're young.' The doctor was as serious all the way through as a judge; he had the audience spell bound till the last. They did not drop to it until the curtain was actually rung down. His language was carefully selected, his intensity and gravity were superb, a master mind had been at work, and furnished food for thought for many a day after. As for myself, I often recall that happy night with pleasure and enjoyment and the whole story of Dick Lancaster's gambling adventure.
"Some time after this last event the doctor asked me if I would assist him in carrying out a project he had in view. Smuggler had been misbehaving and sticking him up at every hotel, and was practically becoming useless. The climax came at last. Dr Halley had an urgent call to the head of Waitahuna Gully, so he and Smuggler started off. The doctor took the near track past Derrit's hut and down a narrow ridge to near where the old halfway house now stands. On or near the point of this narrow ridge Con Brown had a calico shanty erected. The trade had fallen off and Brown left the place, leaving the skeleton shelter standing alongside of the track. It was a cold snowy day in winter, the doctor and Smuggler coming sliding down the track as best they could, when opposite the shanty Smuggler, ever thoughtful for his rider's requirements, showed signs of resentment. The doctlor, knowing the horse's obstinacy and that there was nothing inside the shanty, tried to make Smuggler understand, but all in vain. The doctor then got off to lead him past, but still no use, so a happy thought struck him. He secured the reins, went inside with a hail fellow well met manner, talked loudly for a time with some imaginary person, appeared at the shanty door in the act of wiping his mouth, with a hurried sharp cough as if it had been too strong for him to swallow. He then mounted Smuggler, and, as the doctor told me himself, he went away that day like a steam engine. As he grew older Smuggler got worse instead of better, so to a certain extent was cast aside or condemned, the doctor having to hire from the livery stables for any case of an urgent nature. Now the project the doctor had in view was to have a jollification night at Bastings' similar to the one held in honour of Richard Lancaster, and he wished me to assist him in carrying it out. He had been reading of the French nation using horse flesh as a food and it being looked upon as a luxury, so he conceived the plan or idea of having the horse (Smuggler) slaughtered, the best parts sent to Bastings, who was to cook the joints and make them up in all the various delicious dishes known. My services were required to slaughter the horse, my father having a slaughter yard at the time. The doctor was to invite all his friends to the feast, and when they had partaken of the various courses, he was going to give a scientific lecture on the delicacy of horse flesh. There were only three in the plot — Bastings, the doctor, and myself. It was getting near the time arranged, but one fine morning we got word that Smuggler was missing and could not be found. The doctor had an advertisement put in the local paper offering £2 or £3 reward, but he finally gave him up for lost after advertising for him for some considerable time, and the great plot was never carried out. About six months after the late George Munro brought old Smuggler in from the Tuapeka Basin where he had been running, and claimed the reward. The old horse was as poor as a crow. The doctor sent Munro with Smuggler up to me, telling him that I would pay the reward, which I did. Soon after I purchased Smuggler from the doctor, and after a long spell educated the old fellow to be amenable to reason, and traded him away to another owner. I always had the idea that Bastings had jibbed on the enterprise and had got some of the shepherds to take the old horse out of the way."
This concludes Robertson's account of Dr Halley's time, but we have some material for use when the later doctors of the Tuapeka district come under our view. May we appeal to other pioneers of the various goldfields to communicate with the writer if they can supply any information as to the medical men of those exciting days. We are particularly anxious to hear about the pioneer doctors of Roxburgh, Tapanui, Cromwell, Clyde, Alexandra, Tokomairiro, Balclutha, Naseby, Clinton, Gore, Wakatipu.
He came to Tuapeka early in 1861, and lived there for 12 years, succumbing to the strain of a strenuous decade of Central Otago medical practice. From the columns of the Tuapeka Times of November 22, 1875, we condense the following:—
"Halley was a surgeon of good repute, some of the work done by him in the Tuapeka Hospital is on record in the pages of the Lancet, and in those days of primitive surgery and before the advent of Listerism, is worthy of reference. One patient had a miraculous recovery from a very severe fracture of the skull, the brain in this case protruding. Another miner, Richards, was crushed by a fall of earth and his foot smashed to a pulp; most men would have amputated at once, but Halley's conservative surgery was noted in the Lancet at the time, as a good example of what could be done by patience and self confidence, if wise old Mother Natuie were left to herself and her directions followed. Various medical men who knew of the case recognised this, and spoke of it and his treatment as excellent, and really before its time. While dressing a case in the hospital in November, 1875, Dr Halley unfortunately became infected with septic poisoning, and being in an indifferent state of health due to extreme overwork, he developed erysipelas and finally ursemia, from which he died on the 20th of that month at the early age of 39. He was born at Highbury College, Middlesex, London, in 1836, and was the son of the Rev. Dr Halley, a noted divine, principal of New College, St. John's Wood, London. He was a grand nephew of Edmund Halley, the Astronomer Royal of 1720 onwards — the man whose name is familiar to us as the observer of the great comet of 1680.
Note. — Edmund Halley, born near London in 1656, early showed marked mathematical and classical ability, and even before going to Queen's College, Oxford, he had observed the change in the variations of the compass and also supplied a new method of determining the elements of the planetary orbits. He took upon himself the work of forming a catalogue of the stars visible in the Northern Hemisphere, and for this, purpose in 1676 proceeded to St. Helena, where his observation station was established. On the way he noticed the retardation of the pendulum on approaching the equator, and on the island observed the Transit of Venus, and returned to England having recorded and registered 360 stars. For this he was made Master of Arts of Oxford University, and a Fellow of the Royal Society. He observed with Cassini the great comet of 1680, and was the first to suggest a calculation, and to make it of the orbit in 1682, with . a prediction of the return of the comet in 1759 and 1835. His calculations proved accurate and his predictions were verified. He was also much occupied with lunar observations for the purpose of a better determination of longitude while at sea, and was also busied with the momentous subjects of gravity and of terrestrial magnetism. He published a chart of the Variation of the Compass in 1701, and also executed by Royal Command a careful survey of the tides and coasts of the British Channel. He was sent to Dalmatia for the purpose of selecting and fortifying the Port of Trieste (it is interesting to reflect upon the possibilities of the effect of this choice upon the late conflict in that neighbourhood). He was a most remarkable man, and in his 64th year undertook to observe the moon through an entire revolution of her nodes. This took 18 years to do, but he actually carried out his purpose successfully. He was made Professor of Geometry at Oxford, Doctor of Laws, Secretary of the Royal Society, and was Astromoner Royal from 1720 until his death in 1742. Ebenezer Halley was educated at Owens College, Manchester; at New College, London, his father's school, and he took the M.R.C.S., London, and the L.S.A., and then emigrated to Australia in the late "fifties," where he spent a year or more as assistant to Dr McCreagh, at that time attached to the Melbourne Hospital, and later coming to New Zealand he made his way to Wakatipu, where he held a locum for Dr Douglas, of Frankton, for a time. This was before the gold discovery, but even then included widely scattered visits to private and lodge patients, and proved a most arduous term of office. During the time which he spent in the Tuapeka district Dr Halley took a leading part in the social and municipal life around him. Although apparently a grave and reserved man so far as his outward appearance went, he was at heart a most good natured, genial, witty individual, fond of jokes of all kinds, and immensely popular with all classes.
Our obituary column contains to-day an announcement which will be read with feelings of profound regret. We refer to the demise of Dr Ebenezer Halley, who expired at his residence, Peel street, Lawrence, on the afternoon of Sunday, November 20. The fact has been known for some time past that his health has been the reverse of good, and a few weeks ago he was laid up with rather a severe attack of pleurisy. Continuous work told upon the otherwise enfeebled state of his health, and on Thursday last, while prosecuting his arduous duties, unmistakable symptoms of erysipelas showed themselves in the lower part of the face. The subsequent progress of the disease was rapid enough. Dr Alexander Stewart was in constant attendance upon him, and early on Sunday morning Dr A. J. Fergusson arrived from Dunedin. Medical skill, however, was of no avail. The patient gradually sank, and at 5.30 p.m. on Sunday Dr Halley breathed his last. Thus passed away from mortal ken one who from the nature of his occupation, no less than his long and intimate connection with affairs of the district, had established claims for kindly recognition upon almost every household in the place. To these he added the rarer virtue of thorough disinterestedness, and it is hardly possible to conceive of a man less mercenary in his motives than he whose untimely end we are called upon to lament. As a citizen Dr Halley took an active part in all the social and political events transpiring around him. He had the happy knack of standing well with all sides, even when his best endeavours were concentrated in the cause of one. It mattered not what the occasion was — a social gathering or an election concert — "the doctor," as he was familiarly called, was bound to be there taking part as one of its prime movers, and now he has gone the way of all flesh.
Yesterday afternoon Dr Halley's mortal remains were committed to their last resting place in the Lawrence Cemetery. It was anticipated that the funeral would be a large one, in that respect popular expectation was not disappointed. The districts throughout which deceased's practice extended were well represented. The societies by whom the cortege was headed were the M.U.I.O.O.F., the Foresters, and the Masons, all dressed in the regalia of their order; the rear being brought up by an exceptionally large number of private citizens, walking principally on foot. It was by far the largest procession of the kind which has taken place in Tuapeka. A public meeting was held a few days after his death to consider what action should be taken to perpetuate his memory, and the result was the erection in the cemetery at Lawrence of a tombstone bearing the following inscription, which, while expressing in quite a friendly way the feelings of the donors, is from an historical point of view, most unsatisfactory. The pioneers who raised this structure to the memory of their beloved doctor were all well acquainted with his good deeds, and with the details of his career; but they entirely lost sight of the fact that a tombstone is not erected for the benefit and instruction of those of the present day, but for those who come after us seeking information from a memorial such as this, and, alas, in this case finding it not. Should not "Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, the place of fame and elegy supply"? To us it is indeed strange that Halley's tombstone should have no record of his birthplace, age, or even the date of his death. May we suggest to the pioneers of Lawrence, of whom there are still a number remaining, that they have the dates added to the inscription before it is too late. The words upon the stone are: "Erected by the numerous friends of Ebenezer Halley, M.R.C.S., in affectionate remembrance of his many kind acts during a long residence in Tuapeka district."
The widow of Dr Halley remained in Tuapeka, and some years later married Mr J. C. Brown, for many years member of the House of Representatives. She still survives, and resides at Napier. -Otago Witness, 7/9/1920.
Lawrence Cemetery.
