Old Fernshaw: A Glimpse of the Past
What a stirring event in the lives of Fernshaw folk it was when the old stage coach arrived there from Melbourne, in the very early eighties. It pulled up at both Jeffersons and Boyle’s well known hostelries to let down passengers and mails before continuing on to its destination, Marysville. It was quite an animated scene for the school children—the writer was one of them.
At the post office and store the mail was soon sorted and the letters distributed to the lucky ones waiting. Mail for those living in May Town was taken home by the school children.
Mention of May Town—a “suburb” of Fernshaw—creates quite an interesting story. This little settlement was situated a mile out on the road to Healesville.
What great families were in the process of rearing at this little hamlet at the period under survey. First to one’s mind comes the Leeder group. Mr. Leeder was a very successful grower of raspberries on his plantation, being ably assisted by his family. Mrs. Leeder tended a very fine old-world garden facing the road, and this was greatly admired by those who passed by.
Next came the Trask family. Mr. Trask was employed by the Government Roads Board. Next to him was a great contingent of the Sims. Mr. Sims had a remarkable apple orchard round his home, and the school children of the district had their share when the pippins were ripe. On the opposite side to the Sims lived a quaint old person whose name was Keating. He lived alone, had a lovable nature (when not roused), and was highly cultured.
Mention must be made of Mr. Hooke (the forest ranger) and family. They lived about half a mile off the road, near the foot of Mt. Juliet, and in those days a fairly good vehicle track would take one to his house. Mrs. Hooke had a wonderful display of camellias in her garden, and always in the bud season tourists would come back to Fernshaw laden with bunches of these delightful flowers.
The May Town children numbering well on to 20, attended the Fernshaw school which was situated a few hundred yards south from Jefferson’s Hotel. This hotel stood on the right-hand side of the road, about 300 yards north of the Watts River bridge, and Boyle’s Hotel was right at the foot of the Spur, on the same side as Jefferson’s.
Miss Hurst was the teacher at the old school, and many of us now living have to thank her for the grounding we got and, incidentally, some “cuts.” All told, the school attendance would average well up to 30 children—a good record for the old place.
Those living in Fernshaw itself, outside the Boyle and the Jefferson families, were the Randells and Mr. Hossack. Mr. Randall, like Mr. Leeder, had a very fine raspberry plantation nearly a mile west from the main road, and these old pioneers carted tons of raspberries every year to the Melbourne market. Mr. Hossack lived in a fine old villa near the Watts River Bridge. Mr. and Mrs. Howell had their home near the path to the State school. This lady comes in for special mention for the lovely display of flowers always to be seen in her garden. Mr. Tom Wilder, affectionately known as Old Tom, an expert trout fisherman, dwelt in a lonely hut a mile or so down the river. Years later Old Tom, who was going blind, was sent back to his native England by some good natured English anglers who frequently visited old Fernshaw and had secured the services of Old Tom to lead them to good spots in the stream wherefrom they would fill their baskets with beautiful rainbow trout.
The little post office and store, conducted by a Mr. Mason, was located opposite Boyle’s family, and the Newman family occupied a cottage between the store and Randell’s.
If one’s memory does not fail, the names of those who lived in old Ferashaw and May Town have been recorded. Possibly some old-timer may know of others, but for the moment the list seems complete.
Without going any further in regard to incidents that happened in the old place, a special article entitled “Old Coaching Days; Melbourne to Marysville,” was published in “The Age” on October 1, 1932. It was written by the writer of this narrative, and in it special mention is made of happenings in old Fernshaw. No doubt most of the old residents read it, so it is quite unnecessary at this stage to repeat them. If sufficient requests are made to the editor of “The Guardian” from those who missed reading them, the writer will be pleased to hand the article to the said editor for re-publication in “The Guardian” for their especial benefit.
Before putting the word “Finis” to this old Fernshaw narrative, it seems fitting to add (after a lapse of well over 50 years and paying a visit to the old spot) the pleasure it is to think that although all the homes and most of the residents are no more, nature seems to have made the place more beautiful.
