The Nook
As a recent UTas assessment I had to write a 750 word narrative. This is a small window into the lives of my gggrandparents Sandy and Christina Hamilton, of The Nook, Tasmania.
“Church of England….Brethren….
Congregational,” Sandy Hamilton bellowed out in his thick Scottish brogue. As
he listed the denominations, he noted the show of hands from the townsfolk who
were gathered together on the site of their new church building.
“Wesleyan Methodist it is then,” he
announced, as that was the denomination most represented by the neighbours who
were gathered. That was to be their new church denomination.
Sandy and his wife
Christina were Scots Presbyterian.
They, like most of the districts pioneers,
had arrived in Van Diemen’s Land nearly thirty years previously in the 1850’s,
and had been hand-picked by ministers as being upstanding and strong Christian
folk suitable to populate the far-flung colony. Many of them had left the
British Isles because of famines, crofting clearances or perhaps just a wish
for adventure.
Sandy and Christina had cleared the dense
forest of their land, built a homestead and established a fine farm in the
township of The Nook. Sandy must have foreseen the need for their own local
church as he had donated the land and had helped the overseeing of the
administration of the site.
Nook Church
The Nook was a pretty little corner of the
Kentish district, flanked by a range of hills on one side and the Don River on
the other. The roads in and out of the town were precarious and sometimes
unpassable. The track to Latrobe passed through impenetrable forest. The roads
were a constant topic of conversation and planning for Sandy and the other men
on the Roads Trust Board. When Sandy and Christina first arrived at Nook with all their wordly possessions on a bullock dray, it was found that one child was missing! Upon backtracking, they found the lad waiting on the side of the track, he had no option, the bush was too dense to allow any alternatives.....or so the family story goes.
While access may have at times been
problematic, the growing township was providing residents with their needs. The
picturesque Nook Falls cascaded by the nearby flour mill.
A school was
constructed and was soon followed by the opening of a Post Office.
From the window
of her home, Christina could see over her picket fenced verandah, beyond the
front paddock, to the church. As was common then, Christina had borne eleven
children. As was less common, she had lost only one child in his infancy. Her
bonnie lads and lassies had all attended the school and they participated eagerly in
church activities.
Hamilton Homestead
She
had a rare, quiet moment as she gazed over to the church. She had sent the
younger children off to gather ferns. Tomorrow was the first Harvest
Thanksgiving service at the church and she was helping the decoration of the
interior with fruits, flowers and ferns. Her mind wandered back to her old
church her parents attended in Ayeshire, half a world away. Her children would never
grow up hearing fine Scottish Presbyterian prayers or thick renditions of
Robbie Burns poems. She seldom let her thoughts run along old, forgotten paths.
She could not afford time in wistfulness. She, and her peers, did not have the
luxury to indulge in self-serving thoughts and divisions. They had put aside religious
and theological division, class and cultural tradition. They needed to work
together and support each other in what had often proved to be a difficult
life. They had to baptise, solemnise, inter, worship and all sit under the same
spiritual instruction together in that little chapel under the teaching of the
Rev J.W. Edwards. Edwards was the newly appointed minister of the Sheffield
circuit and his message tomorrow was to be The Harvest: The End of the World.
Christina’s thoughts were abruptly halted
when the children ran inside with armfuls of beautiful fern fronds they had
gathered from the river gully. Christina helped the children with the ferns,
took her basket of apples and pears gathered from the backyard orchard, and
headed over to the church to join the other women.
When she arrived, the choir, which included
her eldest girls Elizabeth, Mary and Jessie, were practicing their hymns and
anthems for tomorrow’s service. Miss Bell was preparing children’s activities
and Christina’s sons William, Jim and Tom with other local lads were helping to
hang bunting and clean up after the ladies had trimmed and rejected some of the
foliage and greenery.
It was April and the autumn was cooling.
Sandy and Christina sat that evening by their fire. The days were growing
shorter and The Nook, being a secluded hollow, could be cold and damp as the winter
months came upon them.
“The church looks mighty fine,” Sandy
commented to Christina, “You ladies did a beautiful job.”
“We have plenty of reasons for
thanksgiving,” Christina answered. The community had pulled together. Nook
residents had a reputation for being unobtrusive and hospitable to a fault and
the Hamiltons were a part of that founding group of brave and quietly achieving
pioneers.
Reflective Statement:
In this writing, I have tried to recreate a
day in the lives of my Scottish GGGrandparents, Sandy and Christina Hamilton.
Family anecdotes were always told about the Scotsman Sandy, but nothing was
ever said about Christina. I thoroughly
enjoyed writing this and was thrilled to find much mention of the Nook Wesleyan
Church in Trove newspapers. The story of
the choosing of the church’s denomination was told to me by Sandy’s grandson, so I cannot verify
it. I have tried to stress the need our pioneer ancestors had to work together
and put aside religious differences, and how important the function of a church
was to them. Churches provided a means of coming together, entertainment,
outlets for creativity, courting and marriage and support in deaths, regardless
of an individual’s belief system. Sandy and Christina were to lose five of
their adult children in the 1890’s, the next decade after the setting of this narrative.
Using one event, I have tried to bring the
town of Nook and its landscape to life. Seven hundred and fifty words is a
difficult task as there is so much more to say, but hopefully I’ve taken a
snapshot, while still including some background context and some
multi-generational information.
Writing this drew me into their world
completely, so I really hope the reader may experience a little of that also.
Bibliography
With The Pioneers, Charles Ramsay ,
Mercury-Walch, Hobart
Touring Tasmania in the 1880’s, the
newspaper articles by Theophilus Jones transcribed by D.J.L. Archer
North West Post July 1909, nla.gov.au
North Coast Standard, April 1894,
trove.nla.gov.au
Conversation with Ross Hamilton 1989
