Evening News (Sydney, NSW: 1869–1931)
Tuesday 5 March 1907
DIED AT 94 AN OLD LADY'S EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
By M. S.
Mrs. Mary Ann Lutherborrow died recently at her daughter's home in Coward Street, North Botany, aged 94 years. Her life was closely tied to the earliest history of Ryde. Her father was one of the first settlers who arrived with Governor Phillip in 1788, and her mother — one of the earliest native-born colonists — was the daughter of another first settler. Together they were pioneers of Kissing Point (known as Ryde from the 1840s).
Born in 1813, Mrs. Lutherborrow retained her faculties until a few days before her death. She lived for 89 years in the Pennant Hills district before moving to North Botany about four years ago. She was a living encyclopedia of the past and could vividly recount her youth in times that seem utterly foreign to the present generation.
She married for the first time at age 16 at St. Ann’s, Ryde, officiated by the Rev. Dickerson. Her sister, aged only 14, married on the same day. Life in a bark hut in the bush brought hardships unimaginable today. She often waited long hours to grind a measure of wheat into coarse meal for her family’s dinner. “Bunging the mill” was the term then used for grinding corn. Families often subscribed together to buy a mill, leading to further delays when it was in use elsewhere.
Bushrangers infested the district. Mrs. Lutherborrow particularly remembered Butler, the son of a gentleman in England, sent out as a convict. Harmless enough, his main fault was refusing to work. Unable to live in idleness when everyone else battled for a living, he took to the bush. There was a heavy penalty for giving food to outlaws. Her first husband, a kind man, could not bear to see anyone go hungry. Someone informed on him, and he was arrested for harbouring bushrangers. He died in prison, and she never saw him again. Left with three little daughters and only a shilling and some tea in the house, she faced a bitter struggle.
Her second marriage was happier. Her husband, William Lutherborrow, was a cedar-getter of the fine type of bushman now almost extinct. Sawyers often made good money; he invested his in land and became a prosperous orchardist in the Pennant Hills district. His wife grew the first fruit trees — plums — from two seedlings he brought from Sydney. In the rich virgin soil they produced an excellent variety. Orchardists came from all parts for slips, naming it the “Lutherborrow” plum — a large black plum still known by that name today.
In those early days around Kissing Point, the main industries were wheat-growing, pig-raising, and timber-getting. There were splendid farms owned by the Blaxlands, Commissary Walker (across the river), and others. Getting timber and produce to market was difficult. Small farmers loaded rowing boats at the Point and waited for the tide to carry them down the river to Sydney, often returning at night on the next tide. With few roads — and those infested by robbers — travel by water was safer, especially when returning with money.
Informers were held in great contempt. For years, one man’s land grant was remembered as the Government reward for information leading to the arrest of bushrangers. Small farmers often had a sneaking sympathy for the outlaws — as long as it wasn’t their own fowls or cattle that were taken.
Mrs. Lutherborrow often compared modern Sydney’s excellent water supply with the old days “when George was King.” Every drop then had to be carried in buckets from creeks or the river, often using a yoke over the shoulders. One of her daughters recalled: “Mother and we girls used to take the three-legged iron pot, the tubs, and the clothes in the dray and go off for a day in the bush down by some creek. At night we returned with piles of snow-white linen and the washing gear.” It was a simple, healthy life that contributed to her long years. Apart from the infirmities of old age, she was always strong and never knew a day’s illness.
She had thirteen children — eight girls and five boys — of whom nine survived her. She also left 42 grandchildren, 81 great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild. Lady Tennyson, while in New South Wales, became interested in her through her son-in-law, Captain Keast (skipper of the Government launch Premier). Her Ladyship paid several visits to hear the old lady’s wonderful reminiscences of early colonial days. Mrs. Lutherborrow recalled seeing Government women working in the wheat fields at Toongabbie alongside the men.
Her memories included the dreadful Billibot (often mentioned by early settlers). Near the stockade on the Windsor Road (then under construction) was a pit, a round hole dug like a well, about thirty feet deep. Convicts who died, whether naturally or from hard usage, were thrown in, often still in leg-irons, then covered with quicklime and earth. Dr. White, an early Hawkesbury doctor, frequently spoke of the horrors of “Billibot.” (This detail clearly affected you — it is indeed a heartbreaking glimpse of the brutality of the era.)
Near the Pennant Hills station, reminders remained of the time when Thompson had his big illicit still in the rocky gully. These were wild times, and the stills attracted an undesirable element. Respectable residents were relieved when police raided and dispersed the offenders.
Few people reaching such a remarkable age retain clear, definite recollections of their youth worth recording. Mrs. Lutherborrow’s memories therefore hold special interest, referring as they do to the earliest agricultural settlement outside Rose Hill.
How settlers obtained stock is an interesting story: For 20 acres of wheat and 30 acres of maize (examined just before harvest), the Government reward was two heifers and two ewes. For half that quantity, one heifer and one ewe were given.
In 1801, a Chapel of Ease was established where St. Ann’s was later built, through the efforts of the Rev. R. Johnson (himself a large orchardist). In the old graveyard around the church lie four generations of Mrs. Lutherborrow’s family. It was a source of grief that she — one of the last of her generation and nearly the oldest inhabitant of the Commonwealth — could not be buried there, as no more burials were allowed. She was interred at Botany Cemetery.
