Family Sequel

Here I give a few words about the happenings at Brandon from the year 1868 onwards, and in particular something of the now elderly Alexander and Sarah Williamson, parents of Annie and the now grown five sons—Francis, James, Henry, William, and Alexander Watt.

When Annie married Samuel Rice in 1868, the parents retired from the farm. Alexander was 68 years of age and his wife 62. The family had all grown up and found their places in the community. Francis had settled on the farmland he had bought at Bonny Glen in the Rangitīkei District and was applying himself most energetically to bringing this land in. James and Henry had bought adjoining properties at Kakaramea, while William and Samuel Rice leased the home farm and lived at Brandon. They took the lease for four years at £150 a year in rental.

Alex, the youngest, had followed his deep desire for education and was in his chosen work. Brandon was something of which the whole family could well be proud. Each had helped make it what it was. In 1960, the Wanganui Herald celebrated its centenary and in doing so published some lovely writings on Brandon and its trees. By kind permission I have been allowed to use these to give the reader an idea of the tranquillity created in this spot. One other newspaper cutting will tell another ‘Old Settlers’ story of how he saw “The river of peace” and its surroundings.

Alexander had not been in good health for some considerable time, so it was not surprising when he bought the section in Victoria Avenue on which the Regent Theatre now stands and had his home built for retirement. For the next five years, he and Sarah lived happily, making many friends and helping in public work until his death in 1873.

Photo of House in the Avenue

Brandon and the River of Peace

And what of the land of Brandon—the home of the Williamson pioneers—and all the surrounding country? What is it like today? I believed the best and truest way to find out would be a view through the eyes of an old identity who has known it so much longer than I.

Ah! The very man—Old Sandy—who has lived in the Whanganui district for all but three of his 76 years and has a mind and memory as alert and sharp as a professor’s. Through him I gathered the following story:

“All these lands,” he said with an indicatory fling of his arm, “were bought on paper by the pioneers before they ever saw an acre of the country where the Whanganui flows.” He sat beside me in the boat as we drifted at the will of the great silent river. The sky was like a piece of royal velvet, luminous where it met the hills. Because the only sounds came from the drowsy lap-lap of the water on the boat, and a shoreward bellbird’s plaintive lullaby, the peace cast a spell.

“Quiet and peaceful, ain’t it?” he said presently. “You wouldn’t think a bloody deed could ever happen where this old river flows, and yet just up the valley, there’s the remains of the house where the Gilfillans were massacred, back in 1847, and then just up the No. 3 Line there’s the old Strachan homestead—‘Lornty’ it’s called. The caves in the cliff there, dug by old Mr Strachan to protect his family from the Māori. And then there’s Brandon out at Long Acre. Brandon and Lornty—there’s many a story in those two holdings.”

His voice went rumbling on, but I could only faintly hear him, because his brave tales of wild, sterling times seemed incommensurable with the noiseless river flowing ever onward. Presently night came. The bellbird slept, as did other birds. Sandy’s story was finished, and the stars winked back at the twinkling lights of the settlers’ homesteads. You cannot think of anything but calm and quiet on this river at night—the river of pictures and peace. But it was not always so. Let us make a trip to see something more for ourselves.

Nearly all the old homesteads near the banks of the Whanganui River have now become disconnected from the families of the pioneers who built them. Many of the original homesteads remain, but the men and women of those days have passed on, and most of the holdings have been divided and given into other hands. With Brandon and Lornty it was different—until December 1966, when the 488-acre Brandon farm was put up for auction and sold.

The original Williamson family had five sons and one daughter. The daughter, Annie Maria, married Samuel Rice, who bought out the shares of Annie’s brothers, and they continued to develop the property, building the present homestead. There were two children of that marriage: Sarah Janet Rice and Alexander Williamson Rice. Mr Alexander Williamson Rice and his wife Agnes Eva Rice had two daughters: Olwyn Sara Rice, who married Frederick (Jack) Butement, and Gwendoline Annie Kate Rice, who lived at Brandon until it was sold. Mrs Gwendoline Sara Butement died in 1965, leaving two daughters of the fifth generation—Gwendoline and Robyn.