INGLEWOOD.

Taranaki Daily News, 3 October 1922, Page 6

INGLEWOOD.

SETTLER'S HOME BURNED. (From Our Own Correspondent.) Mr. E. J. Ible’s residence, Wortley Road, was totally destroyed by fire on Saturday night. Mr. Ible, with Miss Ible, was absent from home at the time, and when they came back they found the home in ashes. No cause for the origin of the fire has at present been suggested. The contents were destroyed, including manuscripts that cannot be replaced relating to Australian history, and mementoes of Sir Henry Parker, Dr. Laing, and other prominent .leaders of Australian thought and aspiration. The insurances on the building and contents were with the United Insurance Company, £7OO on the building and £250 on the furniture and contents. Afuch sympathy is felt for Mr. Ible and family in their heavy loss. Air. F. H. Brown of Inglewood, who was travelling, per Main Trunk, in the King Country last week, returned here by mail train on Friday evening, and brought greetings to old friends from Messrs A. Paterson and J. Tarry, whom he' met at Te Kuiti. These formerly well known residents of Inglewood, he reports to be hearty, well, very busy, and extremely pleased to meet an old acquaintance from this part of Taranaki. They were full of enquiries concerning the place and people here and Mr. Tarry handed to Air. Brown the following parody on Longfellow’s well known verses, ‘ The Vißaye Blacksmith,” which he thought would be specially appreciat he thought would be specially appreciated amongst the farming community at the present time. Under the spreading bankruptcy. The farmer’s homestead stands, Its lord a mournful man is he As he ploughs his mortgaged lands. For the laws that seize his cream and cheese Are strong as iron bands. His face is thin, and long and grim, And burnt like Pharoah’s bricks. His brow is wet with honest sweat, His shins are blue with kicks; His toes are bent and crumpled up From kicking at the pricks. Week in, week out, from morn to night, He toils to keep food cheap, He ploughs and harrows ere he plants For someone else to reap, And the only time he owns his soul Is when he is asleep. His children stay away from school, To hoe his noxious weeds, Although they know they cannot learn Sufficient for their needs; They strive to slay the noxious weeds Before the rascals seed. He goes on Sunday to the yard With his little girls and boys, And they rejoice to hear his voice And the langua'ge he employs When a cranky heifer plants a kick On the spot where it annoys. Toiling and moiling and labouring, Onward through life he goes, He hopes to work for all he’s wort’. Till his creditors foreclose, And then in six feet odd of ea Enjoy a long repose.