St. Peters has enough associations with the written word to remind us of the time worn phrase of ‘life imitating art’. Can we by looking at present day St. Peters, in some way connect with our past, and recapture the scene as those who went before us saw it? Captain James Cook, in describing the Cooks River, writes in his journal of the,
‘very fine stream of fresh water on the north shore in the first sandy cove.’
William Bradley in 1789 describes the same scene as
‘a creek of about eight miles in length to the north west with a winding shoal channel. It ended in a drain to a swamp, all salt water, saw several natives in small parties.’
With growing urbanisation are we able to se the vision of Watkin Tench who in the same year wrote,
‘We passed through the country, which the discoverers of Botany Bay extol as “some of the finest meadows in the world,”
the meadows, instead of grass are covered with high coarse rushes, growing in a rotten spongy bog, into which we plunged knee deep at every step. In 1835, James Backhouse, a Quaker and member of the Society of Friends, had this to say in his “A Narrative of the Visit to the Australian Colonies,”
‘We walked to Cooks River and fell in with a party of Blacks, who were fishing. One of them had a canoe made of a large sheet of bark stretched open with sticks. The man and his wife were seated on their knees in the canoe, in which they had a fire, on a flat stone. The man propelled the canoe by means of a paddle…..He used a spear in fishing, made of a long stick, with four long wooden prongs, attached to it by means of string and grasstree gum.’
Hard to imagine such sights, but we might find it a little easier if we could see the huge aboriginal midden which is found to your left as you descend the steps at the end of Griffiths Street, Tempe and which lead on to the Cooks River. Unfortunately we cannot, for in a totally unsympathetic act of conservation Marrickville council have hidden it behind a sandstone wall. Fortunately the sandstone outcrop which stands adjacent to it is a remnant of the activities of five hundred convicts who were housed in a stockade at Cooks River in 1839. Their work is described by Governor Gipps in a letter to the Colonial Secretary, thus,
‘I consider the opportunity a good one to commence work, which promises to be of great use to the Colony; namely the construction of a dam across the Cooks River…… when I say that it will preserve an inexhaustible supply of fresh water… also that it will effectually secure the Town of Sydney against any recurrence of the apprehension of a scarcity of water.’
The sandstone, used to build the dam was porous and allowed the ingress of salt water, such that it never did supply the needs of Sydney. Our present day airport rail tunnel link, which runs underneath close by, so close in fact that sandstone from the dam was removed when the tunnel was constructed has much in common with it. Both were hugely ambitious schemes which were considerably less than successful. The one redeeming feature of the dam was that it created easier access to the St. George and Sutherland Shire area.
Walking east, some fifty metres from the midden and looking across the Cooks River gives a good view of Tempe House, the home of ‘The Respectable Sydney Merchant,’ Alexander Brodie Spark. Can we see the gardens of the home as they were in the 1830’s and 40’s. In his diary Spark writes ,
‘The fruit trees are now in blossom and the borders are gay with Narcissus, Stock and other more early flowers. The garden is green and luxuriant producing some fine specimens of dahlia. The Almond and double peach are in blossom. The mimosa perfumes the air. Abundance of fruit this season, apricots, mulberries, figs, peaches, nectarines and plums adorn the table. All hands busy at the mulberry trees.’
In 1836 Spark’s guests on leaving him were rowed across Cooks River. He writes, ‘When crossing the river the Canadian Boat song was struck up. I stood on the wharf listening to the receding sound, which flowed sweetly over the smooth water in the stillness of night. Such a delightful scene unfortunately has its difficulties if we are to recapture the scene, for there are at least two Canadian Boat Songs either of which were contemporary. The more probable, by Thomas Moore, which begins,
‘Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,’
However it is possible, and quite possible, given that Spark and many of his friends were Scots that the words we should hear are,
‘From the lone sheiling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and a waste of seas-
Yet still the blood is true, and the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
When the bold kindred, in time long vanish’d
Conquer’d the soil and fortified the keep-
No seer foretold the children would be banish’d,
That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep.
Come foreign rage- let Discord burst in slaughter!
O then for clansmen true, and stern claymore-
The hearts that would have given their blood like water
Beat heavily beyond the Atlantic roar.
Some may find it difficult to reconcile the Spark who spent part of a holiday with the Wordsworths and who put a substantial sum into building St. Peters Anglican Church, (Church of England) with such sentiments. However Scots history is an all embracing misty mythology substantially invented by Sir Walter Scott and if the ‘respectable Sydney merchant,’ cares to think for one moment he was part of the great dispossession of the Highlands, then he is only doing what the vast majority of Scots and those of Scottish ancestry do even today.
In April 1864 the poet Henry Kendall writes from St. Peters Cooks River,
‘We have lately moved out to this place, which is quite in the bush. The front verandah of our cottage faces a broad sweep of the river, near Botany Bay, and the back opens into a large common. I shall get over there (to see Mr Bligh at Balmain), whenever the opportunity occurs: the distance between this place and Sydney hinders me from many pleasant things.’
In December of the same year there appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald the poem entitled Woolli Creek. It appears to be the product of an overheated imagination if we connect it with the creek of the same name which runs off the Cooks River. Or from our modern day vantage point have we, ‘Paved Paradise and put up a parking lot?’ Some of the more obvious verses are:
Woolli, loud and lonely gales,
Dearer for its ghostly glade
Than the sleepy Grecian vales,
Or the slopes of Syrian shade.
Down amongst the the whistling flags,
Ho! the torrent twists and swims,
Slipping under shining crags
Sliding over shallowy rims!
Skirting shadows deep as Death,
Wailing oak and turpentine,
Down it flows, and flies beneath
Rusted rock and rifted chine-
Rusted rock and splintered cleft,
Rough with broom and red with fern;
Haunt of snake and home of eft;
Hills that bake and sands that burn.
Evermore of you I think
When the leaf begins to fall,
Where our Woolli breaks his brink
And the dark comes over all!
Just where on the Cooks River, Henry Kendall with his mother and his two sisters were living is not clear. The Kendall family don’t appear in the the Sands Directory for St. Peters Cooks River for the relevant year. Jane, Henry’s elder sister taught piano, first at Mrs Caroline Chisholm’s Rathbone House School at Stanmore and then at Green Bank Tempe, Cooks River, which was the former Tempe House. It was a school for young ladies, which advertised,
‘There is also a good Bath-House adjoining the House, where the Young Ladies will have the further benefit of Sea Bathing, as often as may be deemed desirable.’
Caroline Chisholm is in part the model for Mrs. Jellyby in Charles Dicken’s ‘Bleak House.’ It is not a flattering portrait. Henry Kendall was a good deal more flattering. In a poem titled simply Caroline Chisholm, his final verse reads,
She fed them, and led them away, through tempest and tropical heat,
Till they reached the far regions of day, and sweet-scented spaces of wheat.
She hath made them a home with her hand, and they bloom like the summery vines;
For they eat of the fat of the land, and drink of its glittering wines.
Mrs. Chisholm and Mrs Kendall both rented pews at St. Peters Cooks River. Mrs. Chisholm is recorded as having paid £4.00 in 1864. Mrs Kendall seems to have left a debt of £1.10/- in 1867.
St. Peters Church Cooks River, dating from 1838, is mentioned in the writings of Louisa Meredith, William Branwhite Clarke, the father of Australian geology, James Hassall and Mary Reibey, but is what we see, what they would have viewed? The significant changes at St. Peters are that the church until 1963 had a steeple, until 1861 the church did not have a gallery, the present stained glass dates from the early 1880’s and the Brindley and Foster organ in the gallery from 1880. The church had a seraphin (a small organ) until 1854, when the organ that is now to be found in the Convent of Mercy at Singleton replaced it. The original gallery, installed in 1861, was smaller than the one which now exists, and was an attempt to increase the seating in the church. It is thought that this organ was placed in the gallery in 1864. An enlarged gallery, designed in 1874 by Edmund Blacket allowed the Brindley and Foster organ installed in 1880 to be placed in the gallery. The present font was used for the first time on 5th December 1875. Stanley Howard, curate at the time, wrote, ‘I like it much better than the old garden vase.’ The old ‘garden vase’ the original font was of red Scottish granite and is now in St. Matthew’s Church Eugowra.
St. Peters Anglican Church Cooks River 1838-1988 by Horton and Halls perpetuates the myth that the present font is modelled on the font in Marton Parish Church Yorkshire where Captain Cook was baptised. That to some degree might be true, they are both hexagonal, however that they are both Victorian, seems to rule out Cook’s baptism. The few pews that remain, as an historic remnant, (though many are intact in the gallery), date from the Blacket alterations, which were designed to increase the seating in the church. The wooden plaque which you will find to your left as you ascend the gallery stairs is to be avoided as a source of history, as is the plaque on the north wall, stating that,
‘100 feet north of this tablet a temporary slab church was used for worship 1835 to 1839.’
In ‘Gothic Taste in the Colony of New South Wales’, Broadbent and Kerr suggest that the church was ‘remodelled and reoriented by Edmund Blacket in 1875’. Any such radical change would have been found in the writings of Stanley Howard for he was there at the time and met Blacket to discuss extra seating, new tablets over the communion table and a price for a new east window.
That St. Peters faces the Princes Highway and yet is entered by a door at the back, seems to have added to the belief that originally the congregation faced west. The report on the consecration of the church has the dignitaries entering through the west door. The front door only led to the bell tower. A journalist in 1906 was disappointed to discover that the east door didn’t enter the church. Rationally, particularly in Australia, and theologically the idea that congregations should face east and therefore Jerusalem, is nonsense, but such was the case in the nineteenth century. Today, at St. Peters you can do what your ancestors couldn’t do and certainly the afore mentioned journalist longed to do, and that is enter by the eastern doors. Hopefully it will matter little to you that the congregation faces south. This is but a brief note to help those who go in search of the reality of their forbears or perhaps in the steps of Mary Reibey who rented a pew at St. Peters. In June 1845 she wrote to her cousin,
‘Thomas was ordained some time back at V. Diemans Land he his mother and wife was up with us lately he preached in the parish Church of St. Peters where I go when I heard him my feelings was so overcome that I cannot describe to you.’
If help is needed in visualising St. Peters municipality as it was in the 1870’s look no further than ‘Stanley: a young man’s colonial experience’. There is still much mentioned by him which still stands today, be it the Wesleyan Chapel in Hart St. Tempe, now a private residence but sensitively restored, the original Tempe School, that is now the sandstone administration block, standing in the grounds of Tempe High School or Clunes, Stanmore, the home of Sir Alexander Stewart who was to become Premier of N.S.W.
Still a puzzle is the route he took on the 3rd December 1874, on horseback from St. Peters church.
‘ I went to explore a road I had long wished to see, beyond the big house, Mr. Holt’s. After passing the lodge of the Warren (as it is styled), the road quite lost its highway appearance and became a genuine country road, with a rough stone wall on one side (a rare thing in these country roads) and on the other side, the fence of a small farm. Down we came to the river, which was approached by a road passing through a rather pretty low shrub. Then over the rustic wooden bridge and up the other side, under the shade of overhanging acacia trees, with grey rocks jutting out from the steep hill in front, two or three pretty little houses giving a little appearance of life to the scene. Then the road wound up, in a very English looking fashion, only those flat castor plants don’t look like England, nor the maiden hair by the road side. At the top of the hill, a very lovely view appeared far beyond. The hill sloped steeply down to Arncliffe, which looked very pretty, and then the land stretched away in half wooded plain, until in the distance you had a perfect view of Botany Bay, which was as blue as it could be, and the heads stood out so clear against the great blue Pacific.’
Louisa Lawson, mother of Henry and more appropriately in her own right, publisher, poet, inventor, feminist, and spiritualist, in short somewhat larger than life, both physically and in her interests, is hard to identify with the suburb of Tempe. Yet her son, the writer Henry, while in Darlinghurst gaol and anxious to be bailed, tells a friend to go to Tempe and visit his mother who has plenty of money. Louisa had moved there in 1893 and until being admitted to Gladesville Hospital for the Insane in 1918 had made it her home.
Nothing of Louisa’s writing be it poetry or prose, as far as this author knows, says anything of the Tempe she knew. The sandstone cottage on Renwick Street of which there is a photograph in Colin Roderick’s ‘The Real Henry Lawson,’ is claimed to be the ‘Warren’ Lodge on the Holt estate at Tempe, demolished in 1947. Roderick also tells us that Louisa could hear the clank of chains and the shrieks of convicts in the night. Whether this was a symptom of her madness that eventually left her to die in Gladesville Asylum in 1920 is not at all clear. The site of her home and the street itself is now in its entirety factories, and cut off from easy access to Tempe by the Illawarra railway line. What we do not see is the level crossing which at one time made Renwick and what is now Edgar Street the one street and connected Louisa’s home very much to Tempe. The level crossing keeper’s house, was a standard railway design having a single chimney in the centre of the floor plan. A Marrickville Council Heritage plan of the 1980’s valued it but State Rail didn’t and having the last say in such matters it went the way of Louisa Lawson’s cottage.
Can we once again imagine Louisa in her large garden, assisted by her father Henry Albury, her grandchildren, those of her son Peter beside her and her other son Charles playing the concertina? Perhaps see Louisa as she makes her way along Unwins Bridge road to visit Peter who lived at 21 Bridge St. Sydenham? It was in this house, Coringa, that Louisa lived in 1919 prior to her being placed in Gladesville Hospital for the Insane in early 1920. Sad that her life was to end in madness and poverty, estrangement from Henry and his all too well documented problems, the insanity of Charles, and her home falling into decay. Feminist Louisa may have been but her verse has many references to God, is at times strangely patriotic and sympathetic toward the opposite sex, altogether a uniquely Victorian woman. Perhaps her best memorial is that to another resident of Tempe, Henry Kendall. It was Louisa, on his death in 1882 who discovering the grave only marked by a simple wooden cross, initiated a fund raising drive that was responsible for the present magnificent monument in Waverly cemetery. She was buried with Methodist forms in the Anglican section of Rookwood cemetery.
Manning Clark’s first volume of autobiography is appropriately called ‘The Puzzles of Childhood’, The first four pages are those which relate to St. Peters and with regard to truth they appear to have a peculiarly uneven quality. It was Manning Clark’s grandfather who arriving from England in 1883 settled with Manning Clark’s father Charles and a sister at St. Peters. His grandfather’s name was Thomas William Benjamin Clark. It was the name he gave when Manning Clark’s aunts were baptised at St. Peters. On only one occasion does he identify his grandfather and then only as Thomas. In contrast we know his grandmother was Jane Ann Logan. Manning Clark writes,
‘My grandfather always a law unto himself, changed his trade; he became a builder after they arrived in Sydney in 1883. He became a house owner. He bought a house in Brown Street St. Peters, and became a petit-bourgeois property-owner, a man with a stake in the land.’
All very well until one notes in the Sands directory in 1886 and 87, a Thomas Clark living at St. Peters St. St. Peters and in 1888 a Thomas W. Clark being an engine driver. At the baptism of one daughter in 1886 he is an engineer of St. Peters St. and when the other was baptised in 1889 he was an engine driver living in Florence St. Thomas Clarke, in the Sands Directory lives there until at least 1917. In 1903 in the same directory there is a Thomas Clark (note without the e) living at Brown St. St. Peters, and another, (with the e) or is it the same one living in Florence St. In 1906 40 Brown St. appears to be shared with his daughter Alice and son in law Herman Heesh, both of whom were only twenty when they married in 1904. I say appears to be, for there is a Thomas Clark, in the same year living at 14 Florence St. Thomas incidentally, at the marriage of his daughter considers himself an engineer. The Sands Directory of 1928 has T.W.B. Clarke living at 36 Brown St. Did Thomas and Jane become petit-bourgeois?
The best place to look for such, are in the Annual Vestry Minutes of St. Peters Anglican Church. In such records are to be found details of who rented a pew, that is a seat holder and those who attended the meetings. Unfortunately in the 1890’s meetings are described as being of the ‘seat holders and members of St. Peters church’ whereas formerly there were lists of seatholders (those who rented a pew). Unless you hadn’t paid your rent there is no list of pew renters names. The only listing is of contributions to the ‘Ladies Parochial Association.’ These are lengthy listings of fairly modest sums, from which the name Clark(e) is absent. That the Sunday School Superintendent at Maria St. is W.G. Clarke further complicates matters however it would appear that on occasions either Thomas or Janet Clark(e) from 1894 attended the occasional meeting. So occasional that it is a surprise to discover that in the minutes of the Annual Vestry Meeting of April 1929,
‘It was mentioned that Mrs Clark a worker in the Parish for 40 years was seriously ill; and it was decided to send a letter sympathising with both Mr and Mrs Clark.’
That there is a screen to the memory of Janet Clark at St. Peters points to a life which may have been something more than Manning’s perception. Thomas seems to have lived all his life in Australia at St. Peters, finally dying in a private hospital in 1938. His death notices read:
Why was Manning Clark, the professional historian incapable of telling the truth of his grandfather? Surely it was something to remember if grandfather was an engine driver? Manning tells us his father the Rev. Charles Henry William Clark, was not looked on favourably by the Sydney hierarchy of the Anglican church. One can only surmise that the move to Melbourne meant that the boy Manning had little contact with his grandfather. According to Manning, his mother, Catherine, was very much aware that her ancestry included the Revs. James and Thomas Hassall and Samuel Marsden, not to mention the financially astute Hope family. There is a suggestion that his mother was was never comfortable with the working class in-laws Thomas and Jane (who was also Irish) Clark, grandpa and grandma may well have been people never spoken of!
The Rev. Charles Clark, in the eyes of his son seems a particularly tortured person. We are told that he could never forgive, a particularly fatal flaw in a Christian, something akin to a butcher not liking the sight of blood. Manning Clark acknowledges his flawed father when he writes,’
Archbishop John Charles Wright, a worthy representative of Jehovah in Philistine Sydney, weighed his young chaplain in the balance and found him wanting in moral fibre. Perhaps Archbishop Wright was wiser in things of this world than my father acknowledged.’
Paradox abound in Manning Clark’s perception of his father. He writes,
‘The Church offered him an escape hatch from the suffocation of working-class St. Peters.’
It’s easy to take the boy out of St. Peters but can you take St. Peters out of the boy? Evidently not.
‘There was fishing in Cook’s River with a bent pin for a hook, and a string for a line.’ ‘The “Arch” (as he always called an Archbishop, retaining all his life the cheeky deference of the St. Peters working-class to those in high places) was pleased with him.’ ‘My father loved the crowd at a cricket test match between England and Australia; he loved a beer at the game, and a bucket of prawns afterwards with his brother- in- law Herman Heesch, (Heesh in the marriage register at St. Peters) husband of his sister Alice. My father loved the variety theatre.’
It was James Napoleon Manning, rector of St. Peters church from 1885-92 who was responsible for the young Charles entering the choir school of St. Andrews Cathedral. What Manning Clarke fails to recognise is that the love of variety theatre may stem from the same Rev. James Napoleon Manning and his own father’s membership of the ‘Order of Foresters.’ Was the seven year old Charles present, when Chaired by the Rev. Manning M.A. L.L.B. in the Hall over Mr. Aubins Produce Store, Cook’s River Road Cook’s River, on Tuesday evening, October 30th, 1888 ’A Musical and Literary Entertainment was given by Lady and Gentlemen Amateurs?’ The programme opened with Miss Finch playing Mendelsohn’s Wedding March and the first half closed with a dialogue from Misses Harris, Burden and Islip, entitled ‘Miss Spriggin’s work.’
At The Royal Foresters Hall, St. Peters, there were concerts. Professor Ferguson appeared there in June 1890, performing ‘some most wonderful feats of legerdemain’ followed by his, ‘Great Decapitating Act.’
There still remains a certain slovenliness in ‘The Puzzles of Childhood.’ Ever the imaginative Manning Clark has the architect of St. Peters church as Edmund Blacket, which is original in that those who get it wrong normally consider it a Bibb church. The church was designed in 1838 by Thomas Bird, Blacket, in 1874, made some minor alterations to the church.
We cannot however entirely blame Manning for all the puzzles of his childhood, for it would appear that his grandfather was somewhat lax in allowing his name to be included in the Sands Directory from 1917-1936 as G.W.B. Clarke, that is apart from 1928, when he is clearly T.W.B. Clarke.
Although a children’s book Nadia Wheatley’s ‘My Place’ published in bicentenary year should be essential reading for all adults of our area. It takes a double page spread for each ten year interval from 1988 until 1788. Chronologically it works backwards, so that it is not until 1828 when ‘Willy the boatman ferries people across’ what is a river, that we recognise this unique individual as William Kerr, assigned servant of Alexander Brodie Spark and owner of the, still standing, Tempe House. Then the river becomes Cooks River, the bay, Botany Bay, the road the Princes Highway and the earliest church St. Peters, likewise still standing. St. Peters, Tempe and Sydenham are never mentioned.
In contrast with Manning Clark’s ‘Puzzles of Childhood’ which at times one suspects is fiction dressed as history, ‘My Place’ is history dressed as fiction. It is erratic with regard to geographic placement and in an effort to see developments in ten year intervals the timing of some events are slightly awry, but then it never claims to be anything other than fiction. The delight is to discover, throughout the rest of Marrickville and the Botany area, places which have been moved to become part of ‘My Place.’ In 1838, ‘The Owen’s tannery and woollen mill are down this way,’ says one of the children’s maps. As you drive along Southern Cross Drive you may not see the tannery or woollen mill, but you will see the mill ponds, if you care to take your eyes off the road. The celebrated home evictions that took place in Newtown in the depression, have been relocated. The Müller family become Miller, as the Shauemaker’s became Shoemaker in the records of St. Peter’s baptisms.
There are still Chinese market gardens as close to us as Rockdale, which are still worked, I suspect, in much the same way as those established after the Australian gold rush. There’s a recognition that, in 1988, the brick pits become a park. A ‘McDonald’s’ features on the map for 1988. The reality was that there wasn’t one in St, Peters at the time, but such is the power of imaginative writing that one soon followed. Missing from the book is any reference to the appalling conditions children as young as seven laboured under in the brick works of the St. Peters and Marrickville area as late as 1876. That apart find a copy, then discover your community! Worth seeing in this context are the brick chimneys and kilns that are now part of Sydney Park, the Bus and Truck museum at Tempe and St. Peters Anglican Church and its graveyard on the Princes Highway at St. Peters. Apart from regularly meeting, as they have done since 1838, each Sunday at 10.00 a.m. and 7.00pm. the church building is open for inspection and graveyard tours on the first Saturday of the month from 1.30 to 4.30 p.m.
At Least with ‘Unreliable Memoirs’ written in 1980, by Clive James we should know where we stand. On page sixty eight of the paper back edition you will find the one mention of something which is alas, no longer a part of our lives.
‘At Tempe dump I uncovered choice items for what was to become one of the world’s leading collections of old piston rings, rusty egg beaters, quondam bed-springs and discarded transmission components for Sherman tanks. I shall not attempt to describe my mother’s joy when I lugged this stuff home, staggering out of the sunset long after she had called the police. A dump in those days, before plastics had conquered the world, was a treasury of precious metals.’
Perhaps not a great work as literature goes, but can the present day container terminal which now stands on the same spot, inspire anyone to capture so evocatively the sense of nostalgia for a past which in reality wasn’t so wonderful?
We have a past that is worth identifying, that is worth celebrating, that is worth preserving, and can be vastly more rewarding, than much of what we applaud today. On a recent trip to outback Queensland, one saw what could be achieved by communities of often less than two hundred, in making something of their heritage.
One can only hope that the residents of Tempe, Sydenham and St. Peters might be equally enthused before it is all too late.
‘Vol 1 Voyage of the Endeavour’ – James Cook
Diaries of Watkin Tench and William Bradley
Govt. Papers – Letters to Colonial Secretary from Gov. Gipps
‘A Narrative of the Visit to the Australian Colonies’, James Backhouse
‘The Respectable Sydney Merchant, A.B. Spark of Tempe House’, Abbott &Little
‘Caroline Chisholm, a Biography’, Mary Hoban
‘Louisa’, Brian Matthews
‘The Puzzles of Chiuldhood’, Mannibg Clark
‘Unreliable Memoirs’, Clive James
The Pipe Organ , Convent of Mercy Singleton
‘Henry Kendall’, selected poetry, prose and correspondence, Michael Ackland
‘Stanley, a young man’s colonial experience’, Laurel Horton
‘My Place’, Nadia Wheatley
‘St Peters Anglican Church Cooks River 1838 -1988’, Horton & Halls
‘Gothic Taste in the Colony of NNew South Wales’, Broadbent & Kerr
‘Dear Cousin, the Reiby Letters’, Mance Irvine
‘The Real Henry Lawson’, Colin Broderick
‘Collected Works of Henry Kendall’
‘Canadian Boat Song’, Thomas Moore
Baptism and Marriage Registers, St Peters Church, Cooks River
Annual Vestry Minutes St Peters Church, Cooks River
Sydney Morning Herald