Page 144 - Three Score Years & Ten
P. 144
“THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN” MISSIONARY WORK IN CHINA
Amy Moore
he agreed and the shop was closed.
The stock was all sold and the big room at the front of the house turned into a beautiful sitting room
where they were able to entertain visitors. The big display windows now became lovely big windows
with long curtains for the sitting room and, what had been the shop door, now became our front door.
Visitors did not need to go round through the kitchen at all.
Another change which came with the growing family was what we called ‘the shelter’. Outside the
back door, Father put a big bush shed built in the fashion of the ‘humpies’ he and his mates Jim
Williams and Joe Johnson, had put up for themselves on the Murchison goldfields when they first
came over from Ballarat. The only difference was that the roof was not thatched with branches, but
he had discovered some new roofing material called ‘rubberoid’, guaranteed to deflect the sun’s rays
and to give a certain degree of coolness. When the building was complete, our beds were all
removed out there and it was certainly a great deal cooler than on summer nights inside the house.
Being the eldest, I was the first to be moved
from my parents’ big bedroom to a smaller
room at the end of the passage. It was all my
own, but while proud to have my very own
room, I was also quite scared of the dark at
that early age and, when my door and the
kitchen door were shut at night, I felt very cut
off from the rest of the family. It was at this
time that Mother talked to me about the Lord
Jesus and His constant love for me and care
of me. She hung a picture on my wall of a
child crossing a bridge over a deep chasm, a
bridge without any protecting sides to keep
her from falling. Hovering over her was an angel with wings outspread guarding her as she walked,
and Mother told me of the angels of God who watch over little children wherever they are. From that
time on there have been very few things which have made me afraid, and I was never afraid of the
dark after that.
The First World War had its effect on us in Brown Hill as it did all over Australia. A wave of patriotism
swept through the goldfields and our young men hurried to join up as soon as they were eighteen.
We went in to Kalgoorlie Railway Station to see the first contingent off for training at Blackboy near
Perth, and then overseas. There was wild excitement as the train pulled slowly out of the station
while whistles blew, people cheered and the train whistled ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo’ until it was out of
hearing. Everybody was buying flags, and white feathers were given to men they felt were shirking
their duty by not joining up. Many of those we saw off so joyously that day never came back, and
those who did were older and wiser and never again looked on war as a gay adventure.
JINDARRA FARM, MAYA (on the Wongan Hills line)
It was just after my 9th birthday at the end of 1917 when we left the goldfields and moved to a farm on
the Wongan Hills railway line north of Northam. I don’t know why the move was made, but I do know
there had been some trouble at the Co-op where Father was working. For some time he had been
going back night after night to go over the books and find out what was wrong. I gathered from things
I picked up in adult conversations, that the book keeper Father employed had been lining his own
pockets and there was a lot of money missing. Whether Father was blamed or whether he felt so
144
Amy Moore
he agreed and the shop was closed.
The stock was all sold and the big room at the front of the house turned into a beautiful sitting room
where they were able to entertain visitors. The big display windows now became lovely big windows
with long curtains for the sitting room and, what had been the shop door, now became our front door.
Visitors did not need to go round through the kitchen at all.
Another change which came with the growing family was what we called ‘the shelter’. Outside the
back door, Father put a big bush shed built in the fashion of the ‘humpies’ he and his mates Jim
Williams and Joe Johnson, had put up for themselves on the Murchison goldfields when they first
came over from Ballarat. The only difference was that the roof was not thatched with branches, but
he had discovered some new roofing material called ‘rubberoid’, guaranteed to deflect the sun’s rays
and to give a certain degree of coolness. When the building was complete, our beds were all
removed out there and it was certainly a great deal cooler than on summer nights inside the house.
Being the eldest, I was the first to be moved
from my parents’ big bedroom to a smaller
room at the end of the passage. It was all my
own, but while proud to have my very own
room, I was also quite scared of the dark at
that early age and, when my door and the
kitchen door were shut at night, I felt very cut
off from the rest of the family. It was at this
time that Mother talked to me about the Lord
Jesus and His constant love for me and care
of me. She hung a picture on my wall of a
child crossing a bridge over a deep chasm, a
bridge without any protecting sides to keep
her from falling. Hovering over her was an angel with wings outspread guarding her as she walked,
and Mother told me of the angels of God who watch over little children wherever they are. From that
time on there have been very few things which have made me afraid, and I was never afraid of the
dark after that.
The First World War had its effect on us in Brown Hill as it did all over Australia. A wave of patriotism
swept through the goldfields and our young men hurried to join up as soon as they were eighteen.
We went in to Kalgoorlie Railway Station to see the first contingent off for training at Blackboy near
Perth, and then overseas. There was wild excitement as the train pulled slowly out of the station
while whistles blew, people cheered and the train whistled ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo’ until it was out of
hearing. Everybody was buying flags, and white feathers were given to men they felt were shirking
their duty by not joining up. Many of those we saw off so joyously that day never came back, and
those who did were older and wiser and never again looked on war as a gay adventure.
JINDARRA FARM, MAYA (on the Wongan Hills line)
It was just after my 9th birthday at the end of 1917 when we left the goldfields and moved to a farm on
the Wongan Hills railway line north of Northam. I don’t know why the move was made, but I do know
there had been some trouble at the Co-op where Father was working. For some time he had been
going back night after night to go over the books and find out what was wrong. I gathered from things
I picked up in adult conversations, that the book keeper Father employed had been lining his own
pockets and there was a lot of money missing. Whether Father was blamed or whether he felt so
144
