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Mangamahu

Bush Yarns

HOME FROM THE HILL

By MERVYN ADDENBROOKE

My life story; ninety years of farm-working and hunting
in the North Island hills of New Zealand.

Merv Addenbrooke was born in Mangamahu in 1901. He was 88 years old when he showed me a biscuit-tin full of his stories written on scrap paper.

"Could you help me put all this into a book? A hard-bound book with gold lettering? I want to give copies of it to guests at my 90th birthday party."

You can now find that book in most New Zealand libraries. Or you can read it here. Merv passed away in 1994.
John Archer

Chapter One

When I was Little
. . . I suddenly saw the flames tearing up the wall near me. I rushed out to the stairs and yelled "The house is on fire. The house is on fire."

All I heard Father say was "Why aren't you asleep, so go to bed."

Chapter Two

The Mangamahu Pub
. . . I thought the store-keeper might give me some lollies but there was not much doing so I went over to the hotel and looked into the billiard room.

I found the room filled with a lot of inebriated bushmen and others all scrapping on the floor with highfalutin language flying everywhere.

Chapter Three

My School Years

. . . Our grass stems made a loud, squeaky noise when we blew through them.

A horse taxi gig from Dwyer's Stables came trotting along, and hearing the noise, the horse ran off the road, throwing the occupants out onto a heap of lawyer vines.

Chapter Four

With My Brothers

. . . When my oldest brother Hugh got married he took his townie bride there to one of the loneliest places there was, without any outlet.

My brother Sid and I made a sledge and transported a full-size piano down to their house. We nearly lost the whole outfit going around the gorge.

Chapter Five

Mangamahu Cowboy

. . . I started work for Cecil at Ruakiwi as a cowboy although I was quite experienced and could do a man's job.

The cowboy in America rides buckjumpers and has some thrills, but the cowboy in my day was the name of a young learner who was started off with the easier farm jobs until he became more experienced

Chapter Six

The
Mangamahu Murder

. . . On striking a match I was horrified to see George with his head severed.

Kinsella, very intoxicated, was sitting nearby, saying that he himself had done the deed, because George his old bushmate cobber had asked him to do it. "He lay on the floor and asked me to cut his head off, and I did it."

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