The two little girls in our attic
This story is by George Cresswell, who lived in McGregor Street in the 1980s. A version of this story was published in The Mercury newspaper in August 1986.
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Emily and Esther lived almost 150 years ago in our house in Battery Point. I learnt about them as I undertook the task of cleaning the attic of five centimetre deep black dust and the straw, glaciers of bird droppings and mummified birds that formed from the century-old sparrow nests. I started the job because I was concerned that the attic was a fire hazard. Before long, however, I was driven by curiosity to try to learn more of the two little girls.
Careful vacuum cleaning exposed religious and temperance booklets, newspapers, receipts, copybooks, some maps, and other assorted items from the 1850s to the 1870s. Generations of silverfish had dined on many of the items.
Emily was the first one that I ‘met’. Emily Evans. She was about 8 years old. The funny thing was that during the six weeks that she had laboured over the copybook, her writing really hadn’t improved.
Now, 32 years after writing that, I decided that I was unduly harsh on Emily and I’m now giving her a gold star for her writing!
I met her older sister Esther a few days later. She was about 11 years old and already her handwriting had a firm, mature style. Her copybook was from 1862; Emily’s was from 1865.
Esther could draw quite well, and her sketchbook included a line drawing of the little sailboat that her father, William Evans, had used to take casks of water out to the sailing ships. Her sketchbook was started on June 8, 1858, and she wrote that she was the daughter of W. Evans, Alliance Buildings, Near the New Wharf, Hobarton.
Esther’s sketch of her father’s little boat gave life to a receipt that he had printed for the officers of sailing ships to complete when he had delivered water, or for material that he had received from ship’s chandlers.
None of the papers from the attic indicated if there was a Mrs William Evans.
A letter, probably to William Evans, written in Sydney on December 31, 1863, went:
Dear Uncle,
I write you these few lines hoping to find you well as this leaves me at present thank God for it. I hope that you are enjoying yourself throughout the holydays for there is not much of that in Sydney, for everything is very dull here. Dear Uncle I am happy to inform you that I have been married just one month from today. Would you please write and let me know if it would be any use of me going to Hobart Town for I should like to live near a friend or relation if you think Dear Uncle that I could do anything at all I will try and come. I have had no letters from home these three mails so I cannot say how they are getting on. The last letter I had they were getting on very well. Do write Dear uncle by return of Post. I am heartily sick of Sydney and dont care how soon I get out of it, so I will conclude with our kind love to all and God send you all a happy new year so no more at present from your affectionate Nephew and Niece.
Edwin and Elizabeth Roberts
Care of Mrs Nash
388 Pitt Street South Sydney
Boxing Day of 1865 was recorded in a memo (to or from whom was not shown) as the day on which:
‘The Children of the Queenborough Sunday School went to Melville St Chapel (a walk of about 1.5 km) to hear the address and returned to the green opposite Mr Evans, Cross St, Battery Point (where they) were regaled with sandwiches and tea and amused themselves and at 4 had tea cake and bun. At ½ past 4 were marched home in good order. The Teachers and Friends took tea together at Mr Evans.’
The cost of the picnic for the 46 students and 10 teachers was itemised and came to one pound and eighteen shillings.
Annual reports from the attic showed that William Evans was a committee member of the Wesleyan Free Church in 1855-56, and of the United Methodist Free Church in 1859, to which he made a subscription of 10 shillings. The 1868 annual report of the Tasmanian Temperance Alliance listed him on its executive committee and recorded his subscription of six shillings.
Receipts from December 1874, to April 1875, showed that Mr Evans had bought two pairs of trousers for one pound and 15 shillings from E. Jones of Collins St, and manila rope and nails from Robt. R. Rex of Franklin Wharf.
Although the majority of the items in the attic were of a religious or temperance nature, there were many 1871 copies of The Penny Miscellany, a weekly journal that frequently involved nubile young girls in difficult or unfortunate circumstances. Here are several examples:
With a cry of astonishment, not utterly devoid of alarm, she cried – ‘Why! Where’s the door!’ Raymond Garton laughed his low silky laugh …
She disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘Arthur Kilmine,’ she said, ‘I can never be your wife. I am poor and of low birth, I am a murderer’s daughter …’
With a shriek Frances recognized the man who thus held her, and strove to tear herself from his embrace. As well try to loosen herself from bands of steel, as from those arms.
There were other journals as well.
A simple, but neatly handwritten invitation lying in the dust of the attic was:
On behalf of Mr J. Hamer I request the pleasure of Miss Evans company to an evening party at Mr Allisons Rooms Brisbane St on 26 May at 8.30 pm.
A. Alexander
Hon. Secretary
The other side carried the reply:
Miss Evans’es compliments to Mr Alexander and regrets that she is unable to accept this kind invertation for the 26th.
E. Evans
The year was not given on the invitation and it was not possible to determine if it was directed to Emily or Esther. More that that, if it was in the attic, did it ever get back to Mr Alexander to advise him that she was not attending?
What happened in the end? The most recent item was a wrapper for The Alliance News sent from Manchester on August 31, 1876, to E. Evans, Battery Point, Hobart Town, Tasmania. It carried a one-penny stamp.
Which Miss Evans?
Probably Emily, because on November 25, 1874, Esther Harrington wrote to her husband John from Franklin. The letter was difficult to read because of aging, dust and some ‘cross writing’ to fit in a few closing lines, but some parts of it are given here:
Dearest John
…Annie is quite disappointed because you did not come down but I am very glad you did not for the concert was a very tame affair … I do want to come home it seems months since I saw you. I am very comfortable and Mrs Philp is very kind but I want you. I would not have stayed so long but the change is doing Maryann so much good she is getting quite a colour and her dresses are quite tight. Dear John if you would like me to come home this week write and let me know…give my love to Father and Emily and now dear I must draw this scrawl to a close. I hope you will excuse it as it is a dreadfull bad pen and they are all in bed and I cannot get another. Dear John if you could spare a shilling or two you might send it in a little parcel by Mr Mason…has left me rather short…Your affectionate wife Esther Harrington.
Several months earlier, on June 19, 1874, Mr Harrington had bought a Bradbury sewing machine for 8 pounds and 10 shillings from W. M. Marsh and Co at the corner of Murray and Collins Streets. The sewing machine receipt carried a Tasmanian one-penny stamp. (This receipt has been misplaced).
It wasn’t until computers and digital cameras had reached a reasonable stage of development in the new millennium that I was able to attempt to transcribe the poem shown in the photo of dusty, silver fish-eaten crumpled paper.
Driven From Home
1
Out in the cold world out in the street
Asking a penny of each one I meet
Shoeless I wander about thru the day
Wasting my young life in sorrow a-way
No one to help me no one to love
No one to pity me none to caress
Father-less Mother-less sadly I roam
A child of mis-fortune I was driven from home
Chorus
No one to help me no one to bless
No one to pity me none to caress
Father-less Mother-less sadly I roam
Nurs-d by my po-ver-ty, driven from home
2
The flowers that bloomed that I once loved
Seem bowing their heads as if pitying me
The music that mingles with voices of mirth
From the windows of pleasure and plenty on earth
Makes me think what it is to be friendless and poor
And I feel I shall faint when I knock at the door
They turn a deaf ear, there’s no one will come
To help a poor wan-der-er driven from home
3
Oh where shall I go or what shall I do
I’ve no one to tell what course X
I’m X and footsore I’m hungry and weak
I know not what shelter tonight I may seek
On the second page:
The friend of all friends who rules earth and sea
Will look with a pitying eye upon me
I’ll wander about till this messen-ger comes
To lead me to father and mother at home
I learnt at the State Archives that Esther was born in 1851 and Emily in 1856. I am left wondering. Did Emily ever marry? Did Edwin and Elizabeth Roberts get the encouragement from their uncle to return from dull Sydney to exciting Hobart? Who subscribed to The Penny Miscellany? Incidentally, men answering to the name of William Evans died in the years of 1873, ’77, ’81, ’84, ’87, and ‘89 …
Finally, I can report that the attic was all clean but for one sparrow nest; that during the 10 or so man days that I spent scurrying around the rafters like a silverfish I never made the mistake of putting my foot through the lath and plaster ceilings. I hoped that the many bags of dust (surprisingly heavy) would do wonders for my garden in the spring.
Here is a photo of the McGregor Street house as it is now.
A sample of some of the many items from the attic
