JANET,
NETTIE & LOTTIE
This page contains a family history of Janet Hamilton, and her two daughters Nettie and Lottie. Its creation was inspired by the finding of a curious gravestone during lockdown walks in Thirsk, in the spring of 2020.
Janet Glenn McCulloch
was born on 9th November 1861 [1], on a street near the seafront in Kirkcaldy, situated across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh. The fourth of eight children, she is listed on both the 1871 and 1881 census as “Jessie”, perhaps to distinguish her from her mother, also named Janet McCulloch (neé Glenn).
By 1884 Janet has moved to Glasgow, and is married on 22nd February to John Henderson Hamilton [2], a Glaswegian qualified iron turner. Janet also has a trade (perhaps the reason for her move to the west coast of Scotland); she is listed as a dressmaker on her marriage certificate. They live at 79 Plantation Street, Govan, a working class area consisting of shipbuilding yards and Victorian tenement housing. John’s likely place of work was Fairfield Shipyard (then named John Elder & Co.), the biggest shipyard in the world at that time with a labour force of 5,000. The company built both warships and transatlantic liners, including for the Cunard Line. In 1884 alone, the company launched four passenger steamers and one cargo steamer.
Fourteen months after their marriage, Janet and John welcome a baby girl into the world. A namesake, Janet Glenn Hamilton born on 8th April 1885 [3]; she is known as Jeanette or Nettie. Nearly two years later she is joined by Charlotte (Lottie) Henderson Hamilton, born on 7th March 1887 [4]. Both girls are birthed at 3 Burndyke Street Govan, presumably tenement housing, today replaced by riverside flats known as Burndyke Court. Life in industrial Glasgow in the 1880s was dirty and overcrowded; ill health and early death were pervasive. Around the time of the birth of the girls, one in seven babies died in Glasgow in their first year.
Nettie and Lottie survive early infancy despite the odds, however John is not as lucky. He dies on 3rd June 1888 [5] at the Western Infirmary in Glasgow, at just 28 years old. His cause of death reads “Chronic and granular disease of kidneys – unknown chronic vomiting ending in Haematemesis [vomiting blood] with bleeding gums etc! Erythema [redness of the skin] and Erysipelas [a type of cellulitis] of face 48 hours before death. Convulsions 15 hours before death.” Granular kidney disease most likely refers to Nephrotic Syndrome, which can be caused by various infections.
[6]
Widowed at the age of 26 with two young children, Janet leaves Glasgow and relocates to Alexandria in Dumbartonshire, seventeen miles north of the city. In 1891 she can be found living at 25 Main Street, Bonhill, with Nettie (aged 5) and Lottie (aged 4 – incorrectly transcribed on the electronic census records as Charles instead of Charlotte) [7]. The building today is a barber shop with the upper floors split into two flats. At the time Janet and the girls are living there, there are also sixteen other people listed as living at the same address. Most likely Janet, Nettie and Lottie are renting a single room. They do, however, have assistance. Janet’s mother, now widowed at the age of 60, can be found living down the road at number 106, with three of Janet’s younger siblings, Elizabeth, Ann and William [7].
We learn from Janet's obituary [8] that she also suffers from ill health, and subsequently leaves the children with their grandmother in Scotland “in search of better health in a more temperate clime”. At some point in the year after the 1881 census is taken, she emigrates to Australia, however ships passage records for her travel cannot be found.
Whilst their mother is away, the girls move around the corner to a new residence at 2 Gilmour Street with their grandmother; the original building is still standing and converted to a wool shop. A stone’s throw across the street can be found the Gilmour Institute for Men. These days a public library, in 1884 it was opened as a “place for mental recreation and moral improvement, as a counter-attraction to the gin palaces of the Vale of Leven” [9]. Its founder, Mr William Ewing Gilmour, evidently a patron to all, also built the Ewing Gilmour Institute for Working Girls at the far end of the same street in 1888. However that building was only used for its intended purpose until circa 1915, after which it was taken over as a Masonic Lodge.
[10]
Having travelled to Australia and “finding the climate benefited her health, [Janet] decided to remain and made arrangements for close relatives in Scotland to join her, bringing with them her two children" [8]. In the event, Lottie, the younger child, travelled first with her aunt Ann and uncle William, leaving Nettie back in Alexandria. It’s not clear why the family had not travelled together, however one newspaper report refers to Lottie as having “been in ill health for some time. It was with a view to her physical benefit that her uncle and aunt commenced this … journey” [11]. The cost of even a government assisted passenger fare to Australasia at the end of the 19th century was on average £15, approximately £2,000 today adjusting for inflation. Perhaps Lottie’s travel had been prioritised, with the intention of the rest of the family bringing Nettie once they had the funds.
Meanwhile, in the small village of Thorton-le-Moor in North Yorkshire, 25 year old railway signalman James Holmes is tending to his orchard on the afternoon of Monday 31st October, pulling apples for sale at market [12]. Ahead of a twelve hour night shift he usually rested later in the day but decided not to do so on this occasion. On the morning of Tuesday 1st November, he returns home around 7 am having been awake for 24 hours. On arrival he finds that Rosa, his five month old baby girl, has been unwell through the night and was working hard to breathe. He offers to take care of Rosa and his other two young daughters whilst his wife, Sarah, takes their eldest (a son named Teddy) to school. James finally falls asleep around 10 am, however only gets a few hours’ rest before he is woken by Sarah in a panic. Rosa is having a fit.
James sets off at once to find a doctor, travelling a mile to Otterington station, then catching a lift on a goods train to Northallerton. He reaches the doctor’s office but finds that he is out. The doctor’s servant tells James that Thornton-le-Moor is on the doctor’s planned rounds and that he should get home as fast as possible in order to try to intercept him. James hurries the 4 ½ miles back home to find he is too late, his daughter is dead.
[13]
The time is now 2pm, with just four hours before James is due to start his next twelve hour night shift. In his statement to the official Board of Trade enquiry [12] he explains: “After I got home and heard that the child had died, my wife said she really could not stop alone that night, and I said I would telegraph for my mother, but that really I was not fit for duty that night, and would, try to get relief. I had to pass the station on my way to the telegraph office, and I went to see Mr. Kirby, the station-master at Otterington, under whose orders I work. I said to him, ‘I have had a child die very suddenly. Will you wire to Mr. Pick (the signal inspector) to see if I can be relieved for the night?’ I knew that I was not fit for duty.” Mr Kirby asked head office for relief, but crucially omitted to convey Holmes’ message that he had stated he was not fit for duty. Victorian times being as they were, the death of a child wasn’t necessarily considered a sufficient reason for leaves of absence. In any case, the managers of the North Eastern Railway Company allowed for only 17 relief signalmen in a total cohort of 356 employees for the entire region, and a suitable replacement for Holmes could not be found that evening.
[15]
That same night, Lottie, Ann and William are boarding the overnight express train from Edinburgh to London, in the first leg of their round the world journey. Many families returned to London early in November having passed the autumn in the Highlands, and so due to the heavy seasonal traffic, the “Flying Scotsman” as it was known, was divided into two portions [11]. Lottie boards the second portion in the 3rd class wooden carriage situated behind the engine and in front of the 1st class Pullman sleeping car [14]. The train pulls away shortly after 11 pm and makes its way south, passing Newcastle at 2.38 am and then Darlington at 3.39 am.
The train reaches the signal cabin north of Thirsk at around 4.20 am. The North Eastern Railway Company at that time operated what was known as block signalling, with telegraph instruments on which the signalmen passed a chain of “be ready”, “on line” (the antecedent of the term we use for IT connectivity today), and “line clear” commands down the track. Holmes had managed to perform his duties adequately until shortly after 4 am, when he was overcome with exhaustion having had only a few hours’ sleep in the last couple of days. In between the two portions of the express trains, a heavy goods wagon carrying pig iron from Middlesbrough had been temporarily allowed onto the main line.
[16]
[11]
James falls asleep for approximately thirteen minutes, with the goods train waiting outside his signal cabin. He is woken by the signal box to the north alerting him to oncoming second portion of the express. In his confused state he forgets about the presence of the goods train and gives back the “line clear” signal. He realises almost at once his mistake, but is helpless at this point to do anything other than watch in horror as the express dashes directly into the back of the goods train. The night is foggy- the driver of the express, travelling between 50-60 miles per hour has no time even to apply the brake after seeing the rear lights of the goods train from only 50 yards away.
The guard at the back of the goods train is killed instantly. Miraculously both the driver and the coalman of the express train are thrown from the engine and survive, albeit injured. The engine (number 178) and tender are thrown sideways into a field neighbouring the line. The weight of the sturdily built Pullman car smashes straight through the rickety third class cabin in which Lottie, her aunt and uncle were travelling, before landing in the field. Whilst none of the first class passengers were injured, all the nine fatalities and a significant proportion of the 39 injured passengers had been travelling in that front 3rd class compartment. In the subsequent inquiry into the accident [12], the weight distribution of the differing types of cars that made up the express train was cited as a contributary factor to the death toll, for which the railway company had been negligent, along with the scarcity of emergency staff cover for signalmen.
[17]
[17]
The crash is one of the most dramatic and deadly in railway history to date, and details of the incident were reported in newspapers across the UK. In a typical display of the Victorian class system at work, the Leeds Times [14] choses to open its report with the fate of the landed gentry travelling on the train before telling the story of Lottie Hamilton. The Marquis of Huntly and Marquis of Tweeddale (both travelling in the Pullman car) were reported to have walked to a neighbouring labourer’s cottage to “partake a cup of tea, before resuming their journey to the south”. The latter, pictured in this caricature in Vanity Fair, had removed his boots before sleeping and could not locate them in the confusion after the crash, resulting in the humiliation of having to walk to the cottage in just his stockings.
[18]
When the attention of the Leeds Times finally does get to Lottie, it is a heart-wrenching story. “One of the most distressing incidents was the rescue of a little girl called Lottie Hamilton. For a long time her screams were heard before she could be extricated; and not only was it evident that she was badly bruised, but she was suffering frightful agony from contact with the flames. She was tenderly carried towards Thirsk, but on the way she expired. A pathetic souvenir of the poor girl’s fate was afterwards taken from the wreck. This was her doll, with which she had been playing. Its head was melted off, and the dress and body, like those of its unfortunately little mistress, were burnt” [14].
[20]
William McCulloch had remarkably survived the crash having been thrown free from the wreckage. He reported “I went to sleep, and was awoke by a sudden and sharp knock on the head. The next thing that I remember was finding myself among a lot of debris… Presently I heard a man shout for water to pour on a portion of the wrecked and burning train, and what appeared to be a little bundle was brought out of the wreckage. It was the charred body of my little niece, who was only five years of age, and whose name was Lottie Hamilton. She was burnt beyond recognition. Just before we left Scotland my mother gave her a threepenny piece with a hole in it, and it was through this gift, which was worn round the neck, that I was able to identify the child" [19].
Annie McCulloch was also killed in the crash. Her body, and that of one other woman, was never recovered due to a fire that started in the engine and engulfed the rest of the train. Charred fragments of bone were all that survived; the recovery of these remains were delayed till the engine could be extricated from the line some four days after the crash [12]. The rest of the victims were transported the same day to a makeshift morgue in one of the waiting rooms at Thirsk station. A Mr. Archibald Glenn from Dunbartonshire, probably Janet’s uncle, attended to identify Lottie’s body [21]. All other bodies of the crash victims bar Lottie and Annie were transported to their hometowns for burial, perhaps another indication that the family had no funds to spare after paying the emigration fares for Lottie, Annie and William. Instead, Lottie and Annie are buried together in plot 5S in Thirsk cemetery. A cross headstone marks the spot, gifted by the children of the church schools of Thirsk. Annie’s internment occurred nearly three weeks after the crash, but with an extravagant funeral complete with polished oak coffin, “massive brass furniture”, and hearse, paid for and attended by the some of the employees of the North East Railway Company [22]. The burial service was marked with the tolls of the tenor bell of St Mary’s church, which can still be heard at the start of church services to this day.
With the intense media interest in the story came several questionable eyewitness reports. First prize in the “sure, that happened” category goes to a Mr. Hodgson who stated, “Everything seemed to be all right until there was a sudden crash, and I saw the sides of the carriage ‘caving in’ tent fashion. I instantly realised the danger, and exclaimed to two ladies who were in the third-class compartment in which I was [further back in the train], ‘For God’s sake, put your legs on the seat.’ We had hardly done so before the seats crashed together. The doors of the carriages being locked, I crawled out through the window, and lifted out the two ladies. I then assisted to lift out some of the other passengers – about 15 more, I should think – and place them at the side of the line” [19].
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The tragedy even elicited a telegram from the Queen (Victoria, though the message sounds equally correct imagining it read in the voice of Queen Elizabeth II): “Can you convey to the sufferers from the Thirsk railway accident the Queen’s sincere sympathy. She hopes the wounded are going on well. Cheerio.” [23] (Ed: Last word added for comedic effect but doesn't sound out of place).
[24]
Another side effect of the intense, often sensationalist, reporting was the rise of tragedy tourism. The Yorkshire Evening Post reported details of “hundreds of spectators, who drove out in traps from Northallerton and other places to witness the ghastly spectacle. The clearing gang diligently pursued their work of trying to get the fire under, and rescuing bodies. One of those recovered was in such a charred condition that it had to be gathered in a sack and removed to Thirsk. In one particular place there was sad and shocking evidence of the spot in which lay the remains of at least one of the missing bodies, for on a mass of burning debris were visible human remains, and the olfactory nerves conveyed sickening proof of the fact of that portion being consumed by fire” [19]. Visitors to the wreck were observed removing parts of the destroyed carriages as souvenirs. The Science Museum holds two in its collection, a commemorative plaque made from a section of wood panelling from a carriage, and a shoe horn fashioned from recycled brass fittings [24].
James Holmes naturally suffered a great deal of anguish over what had happened on his watch. Survivors of the crash report Holmes as being in “great distress… swaying his body to and fro in a condition of pitiable distraction” [25]. Later, whilst giving evidence to the inquest into the accident, he was reported as being very much affected, resting his head upon his hands and frequently giving way to tears.
The newspapers reported an overwhelming amount of public support and sympathy for Signalman Holmes [26]. Messages of condolence and solidarity were published by multiple regions of the Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants, who used the opportunity to lobby (unsuccessfully it seems) against poor working conditions, including a reduction from twelve to eight hour shifts, and an improvement in the “inadequate provision made for the relief of signalmen under ordinary circumstances”. The Yorkshire Evening Post additionally reported a gathering of 600-700 working men on 13th November [19], members of the Pleasant Sunday Afternoon Society, who met in order to send a vote of sympathy to Holmes.
[13]
[31]
James was tried for the manslaughter of the train guard and passengers in the goods train on 5th December 1892 at York Assizes [12]. The jury found Holmes guilty, but added a very strong plea for mercy. The judge agreed, finding Holmes guilty of culpable manslaughter, but passing an absolute discharge.
James’ critical error, it seems, had been to not protest too much when his leave of absence was denied. He had simply stated “it was a bad job as I was in bad fettle for work,” adding, “I do not care so much for myself, but I am more bothered about my wife as she is not fit to be left all night by herself" [12]. Lottie’s death certificate states “injuries by railway collisions” as the cause of death, when fundamentally it was a fatal case of Victorian stiff upper lip.
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James eventually returned to work for the North Eastern Railway Company, however this time as a railway porter and ticket examiner. He ultimately moved south to Middlesex and died at the age of 70.
We can’t be sure how and when Janet received the awful news of what had happened to her daughter. A short notice is given two days after the crash on the front page of the Sydney Daily Telegraph [27], however longer reports which name Lottie and Annie, and copy all the gory details provided in the English newspapers, start to appear from the beginning of December [28], presumably with the arrival of physical copies that had to take the month long voyage around the world. On 19th May 1893 she makes the long journey back to Scotland on the RMS Orient [29], a passenger ship built in the same shipyard that her late husband likely worked in, around the time he would have worked there. On 22nd September she makes the return journey one final time, travelling with Nettie [30]. Their voyage is recorded on the ship’s passenger log: a Mrs J Hamilton (listed as age 35 when she was actually 32, however many of Janet’s ages in documents through her life are inconsistent with her birth year) and Janet Hamilton aged 7 years, detailed as Scottish passengers, travelling alone from London to Sydney on the RMS Orizaba. The ship was celebrated in music by Australian composer Auguste Wiegand, in his Gavotte dance of the same name, and was wrecked in 1905 off the coast of Western Australia. Today it’s an active dive site.
[30]
During her first stay in Australia, Janet, who had been brought up in Scotland a strict Presbyterian, heard a preacher from the Seventh Day Adventist Church and was “profoundly impressed by the message he bore”. On her return to Australia with Nettie, Janet settled in Ballarat – a city 70 miles to the north-west of Melbourne - and finding her dress making skills to be very profitable, set out to start her own business. A chance meeting led her to rent a retail property from a lady from the only small group of Seventh Day Adventists in Ballarat at that time, and the coincidence moved Janet to study the message and start observing the Sabbath [8].
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The Seventh Day Adventist Church is a Protestant Christian denomination which is distinguished by the observance of Saturday, the seventh day of the week in Christian and Jewish calendars, and places an emphasis on the imminent second coming (advent) of Christ. Ellen Gould White, one of the founding members of the movement, had relocated from Maine US to Sydney Australia in 1885 [32] (the year of Nettie’s birth) in order to carry the message of Adventism across the world. Within a year of joining the religion, Janet is invited to become matron at the home of Ellen G. White in Avondale Cooranbong (a suburb of the City of Lake Macquarie in New South Wales). The house today has been restored to its original condition and is kept as a museum dedicated to the early days of Seventh Day Adventism in Australia.
This image of Ellen (seated in front of the door) and her staff was taken outside the house in 1896 and hangs in the museum [33]. The girl standing to Ellen's right is possibly the right age to be Lottie, in which case the women next to her could be Janet.
The building of the house at Avondale is shortly followed by a school, Avondale School for Christian Workers (today Avondale University College), where William R Carswell, a former shepherd from New Zealand, is one of the first students [34]. Janet and William marry in 1896, the first marriage officiated by the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Cooranbong, and Janet and Nettie become Carswells. The next year William graduates from Avondale College, and Janet and Nettie join him on his assigned mission of spreading the truth to the people of Toowoomba, Queensland. They canvass door to door selling “Patriarchs and Prophets”, a 750 page volume on the conflict between good and evil written by Ellen White. The monthly Adventist periodical The Gleaner provided a forensic accounting report of their individual activities, in terms of the number of days’ and hours’ work, and total value of books sold [35a-h]. Initially they had a very healthy turnover of about £40 (Australian old pounds) a month, roughly equivalent to £3,000 GBP today, however trade soon drops off and William applies to the church leaders to return to New South Wales in the August of 1897. They return to Sydney for a short while and attend the Seventh Day Adventist Sydney camp meeting at the end of October [36]. A kind of religious Glastonbury, thousands of people would turn up to listen to Adventist preachers in tents. After the camp meeting finishes, Janet, William and Nettie move to Newcastle, NSW, to continue their canvassing activities [37].
They continue in this line of work until returning to Sydney in 1904 [38] where Nettie, now aged 19, commences a teaching degree at Avondale College [39a-b]. She graduates in 1906, after which Janet and Nettie part ways once more. William is called to New Zealand, as “taking Christianity to the indigenous Maori people is a prime concern of the Adventist church” [32] and William’s knowledge of the Maori language leads him to the Gisborne district where he set about visiting pahs (Maori villages) and translating Adventist literature. His main activity there seems to have been publishing and distributing a monthly paper called “Te Karere o Te Pono” (The Herald of Truth). William and Janet are joined by two Adventist-trained nurses, Mr and Mrs Reid-Smith. Their presence means that as well as forcing their religion on the Maori people they also give instruction in matters of health. In 1909 William writes, “It is plain to us that many of the sicknesses of our Maori neighbours are the result of their ignorance or disregard for the most simple precautions for preserving health. We intend through our Maori paper to give them such instruction for the preservation of health, and also for the treatment of simple diseases, that those who read will not always be in ignorance of the simple rules of health” [40]. For all their preaching, the Carswells and Reid-Smiths don’t have an easy life in New Zealand. Janet is mentioned in multiple sources [32,41] as continuing to have prolonged ill health (though the exact problem is never specified), and Mr Reid-Smith dies in 1910 in a typhoid outbreak. The inscription on his grave in Tologa Bay, shown in the image, reads "Greater love hath no man than this". Janet returns to Australia and William joins her five months later [42]. The act of saving the Maori people is described as “grinding to a halt” [32].
Meanwhile, the Union Conference Records note that “Sister Nettie Carswell is recommended to connect with the work in Singapore” [43], and on the 4th October 1907 she boarded the S. S. Airlie at Brisbane. Her travelling companions write “At Brisbane a number of our people came to the ship to see Sister Nettie Carswell off, who goes with us to Singapore to connect with our new Training School. From Brisbane the weather has been delightful; but, notwithstanding this, Sister Carswell suffered greatly from seasickness the first two days. We are now within the Great Barrier Reef, and all are well, happy, and enjoying the voyage. Every day the weather grows warmer, and we are dropping off our heavier clothes” [44].
Shortly after her arrival, further letters from the Adventist contingents in Singapore report her marriage at the end of November to a Brother Joseph Mills: “On Sunday, the twenty-eighth, the wedding of Brother Joseph Mills with Sister Nettie Carswell took place. It was quite an ideal little wedding in ideal surroundings… The day was very pleasant, and most of our brethren and sisters were present at the wedding. The wedding ceremony was very simple, with no attempt at display in ornamentation. This is just as it should be on all such occasions. Pastor GF Jones performed the ceremony, which was followed by simple refreshments” [45,46] Joseph Mills is also an alumnus of Avondale College, however, he graduated in 1902 [39b], years before Nettie started her studies. It is most likely they overlapped at Avondale sometime around the turn of the century, between Janet & William’s postings around Australia, and had kept up a long-distance engagement thereafter. Their marriage marks the beginning of a working as well as personal relationship – from this point forward Nettie and Joseph jointly run a number of Adventist training schools.
Their first endeavour was to establish the “Eastern Training School” [47], and very much like Avondale College, it still exists to this day, albeit in a new location. The original school, situated on land named Mount Pleasant, was 5km from the centre of Singapore, overlooking the city. Adventist teaching placed a lot of emphasis on the benefits of physical work, and students were expected to perform a variety of farm labour tasks. At first the school "served as a home for the handful of Sumatran orphans still in mission care. Not until the Battak trainee missionaries, Immanuel, Ezekiel, and Gaius, arrived from Padang in January 1908 did full-scale instruction get under way. Numbers fluctuated between ten and fifteen in the early period. Some left because, in the trying climate, they could not endure the six hours manual work required six days a week to earn their board and tuition. ‘The problem’, admitted Jones [a teacher at the school] in 1908, ‘is yet to be solved what industrial work can be found that will be profitable both to the students and the school.’" In what could be considered dubious legal (and moral given their supposed objective) terms today, the “problem was partly solved in the next year when they decided not to accept students from cooler climates” [48.]
Despite their best efforts, it wasn’t long before the school began to get into financial difficulties: “Six hectares of wheat, four hectares of maize, and about thirty-five tonnes of potatoes were harvested. The young ladies canned over two thousand large cans of fruit and jam from the orchard and garden. Three large water tanks were installed. A blacksmith’s shop and a carpenter’s shop were established. A large barn-like building was also erected as a health food factory industry for the students but this project never really came to fruition. Chaney [another teacher at the school] jubilantly reported a profit of over $200 for the first quarter of 1909, but as the year wore on signs of financial difficulties appeared. Only fifteen of the students were paying full fees. The remainder were working in the school industries to pay off 50 per cent or more of their costs. This meant the industries had to make an immediate and handsome profit. That did not materialize. Largely to blame was a twenty-eight hectare wheat crop which failed. Chaney, Smith, and Mills were not experienced farmers. Furthermore, a profitable year-round industry for the young ladies could not be generated… At the end of 1910 the school was still $800 in debt. In 1911 enrolments slid further to fifty-seven. A cut in staffing was imperative” [48].
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Joseph and Nettie left Singapore just as the school was beginning to get into trouble: “It is with sorrow that we part with Brother and Sister Mills. It is plainly evident, however, that if they are to be preserved for the work, they must go to a more invigorating climate. This is a very pleasant and interesting country; it is as near like Paradise as is any place I have ever seen: but unfortunately the climatic influences are most seductive and debilitating. One feels no inconvenience at first, and sees no reason for extra caution. It is not long, though, before the fact is forced upon one that one's vitality is at a very low ebb, and there is but little power left to resist any disease to which he may be exposed. Women are more susceptible to the weakening influences of the climate than are men” [40]. Tl;dr Glaswegians don’t do heat and humidity.
They were assigned their next mission in setting up a school in New Zealand [47]. The Australian Union Committee had been on the lookout for suitable land there so as not to be so heavily reliant on Avondale College in churning out the next generation of missionaries. In 1907 they purchased a plot of 168 hectares at Cambridge, on the North Island of New Zealand, from the proceeds of Ellen G White’s book sales. The school was named “Pukekura”, Maori for “red hills”. It transpired, however, that similar financial troubles as had beset the Singapore training school followed the Mills to New Zealand. An exceptionally long vacation of five months was scheduled in the summer of 1911/12, designed to allow the pupils to earn enough funds to enrol as full paying students to increase cash flow. However, a leaked decision of the Australasian Union Conference of plans to close the school resulted in plummeting registrations [48].
A new school site was found in Longburn, near Palmerston North, which was more accessible to the residents of the south island of New Zealand, and named “Oroua” meaning “twice entered” to mark their second attempt at establishing a school in that country. The Pukekura site was subsequently sold to a Mr Nickle. An agreement was made that Nettie and Joseph could continue to use the building till the end of the school year, after which all the furniture and books were packed up and shipped via rail to Longburn. In the early hours of 23rd December 1912, shortly before Nettie and Joseph were due to leave with the last of their belongings, a fire broke out in the far corner of the uncompleted east wing of the building. Eyewitnesses reported a strong smell of kerosene, and Mr Nickle was accused of arson, in an attempt to claim insurance which was ultimately denied. Whilst no one was harmed in the fire, Nettie and Joseph lost all their personal belongings. All that was salvageable was £72 worth of melted silver from silver coins in the safe, the paper money having been burnt. They left Pukekura to start over at Oroua, these days a private middle school, as the founding principal staff [49].
Meanwhile, back in Sydney, William is conducting bible classes at the Sydney Sanitarium [50]. He does get to return to New Zealand for one additional visit in the November of 1913, to continue the translation of Adventist literature for the Maori people. He and Janet travel on the S. S. Maheno [51] which, in 1935 ran aground on Fraser Island as a result of a cyclone, and whose wreck still sits on the beach. During their time in New Zealand they had the opportunity to “visit the Oroua Missionary School, also to Gisborne Tolago Bay, and other places where we met many old friends” [52].
They return to Sydney in March 1914, a few months ahead of the start of the first world war, to be posted once more at the Sanitarium [53]. The “San”, as it is known locally, was designed by fellow Adventist Dr Merritt Kellogg, brother of (also Adventist) Dr John Harvey Kellogg of cornflake fame and fortune. Seventh Day Adventists have a close history with the development of the breakfast cereal market. They were early proponents of the clean eating movement, or simply “health food”, as Ellen G. White had coined the phrase. She first came up with the idea of health food work as being “the property of God” in 1895 in a camp meeting in Brighton Victoria. Full-scale factory production of Adventist branded food, and the setup of cafes and restaurants selling plant based foods, got off to a shaky start in 1901. As described in the Adventist Heritage Centenary records: “’Take this operation to the newly established school at Avondale’, [Ellen] suggested, ‘and connect it with the educational work. The students will benefit from the employment, and the business will prosper’. Of course, there were astute men at hand who saw immediately that this was the wrong way to go. Because they knew a thing or two about business – much more than Ellen White -they opposed the move heartily. Mrs. White’s counsel prevailed, however, and the health food work was duly moved to the site of Dora Creek, Cooranbong” [32].
Luckily for Ellen the astute businessmen were able to force hostile takeovers of other health food companies that sprung up in Sydney in competition, and by 1928 they were the trademark owners of Weet-Bix (branded Weetabix in the UK), still one of the most popular breakfast foods on the Australian and UK markets. Today the Sanitarium Health and Wellbeing Company which produces Weet-Bix, amongst other breakfast related items, employs nearly two thousand staff and has a turnover of $300 million AUD.
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Weet-Bix plays a role in William’s later years – he is recorded in 1930 in the midst of the great depression as leading work in supplying clothes and food to the poor and needy of Sydney. He writes: “Some of the people have a desperate fight against sickness and unemployment, especially now that work is so hard to obtain. We have appreciated very much the assistance given by Cereal Foods Ltd, as well as the kind help sent from our wholesale dept in Sussex Street and from the Weet Bix factory. These have been our principal sources of supply, with some gifts of fruit from Wahroonga members... We were rather grieved recently when our supply of wheat-flakes had run out, to have six or seven women with their little ones come along to get a supply. They depend largely on these flakes and biscuits to feed their children. We have since received further supplies and promises of more” [54].
Whilst Weet-Bix was providing a vital role in basic nutrition for starving children, the history of cornflakes is less palatable. It was originally designed by Dr Kellogg as an anaphrodisiac to promote his view of health reform based on temperance and sexual abstinence. A prominent eugenicist, he also advocated a variety of methods, up to and including genital mutilation (both male and female), to prevent masturbation. On the other hand, he did also allegedly invent peanut butter so couldn’t have been all bad.
The next few years are met with multiple life changes for Nettie and Joseph. At the end of 1915, they resign their positions at the Oroua Missionary School and return to Avondale, where Joseph would become Principal, thirteen years after graduating there [55]. They parted from the school with leaving gifts of a writing desk for Joseph and purse for Nettie [56]. Four years later they up sticks once more, in order to take over management of the Darling Range School in Western Australia [48], now named Carmel Adventist College, which also seems to have an active history in students producing breakfast cereals.
Historical volumes of Adventist records are available for all regions across the world, and in October 1920 mention of Janet and William can be found in the Eastern Tidings, the journal of records for Adventists in India [57]. A Sister Vera Chiltern writes of her visit to Wahroonga: “Australia is certainly a bright, vigourous, cheerful country and Wahroonga everything that was said of it in the way of peace and quiet; but my heart is in India, and I am eagerly looking forward to coming back again.” Further reading reveals that Sister Chiltern is homesick for her indigenous heathens; Janet and William attempt to remedy the situation: “It seems so prosaic and commonplace here, without the Indian people. To help me out, Mr and Mrs Carswell are going to take me out to see a colony of aborigines, and I look forward to it more than anything else.” Sister Chiltern then goes on in her report to neatly summarise the entire problem of the second shift: “Australia is a country where house servants are becoming almost unknown, except in the homes of the wealthier class. The great majority of Australian women have to do their own house cleaning, cooking, washing etc. I cannot say that I enjoy the Australian style of living. The whole day seems wasted and interrupted. This perpetual cleaning and dusting and cooking and eating and washing and ironing gets on my nerves, and there seems to be no solid time to sit down and collect one’s thoughts, to write, or be intelligent.”
The middle years of the twenties are beset with accidents and ill health for our families. First, in April 1924 William is struck by a bus, skidding on the wet road, whilst helping a blind woman to cross. She escapes without major injury, however he suffers a fractured thigh, and spends a number of months in the Sanitarium, this time as a patient instead of a teacher, making a full recovery thereafter [58].
Joseph, however, is not so lucky. At the end of 1926 he is taken ill and spends three months also at the Sanitarium [59]. He dies on 8th February 1927 aged just forty-three. His obituary provides details of his marriage to “Miss Jeanette Glenn Hamilton Carswell, his faithful companion through these years, who, with an adopted daughter of tender years, is left to mourn this great loss” [60]. This is the first documented mention of their daughter Ferne Althea Mills, aged just 6 at the time of Joseph’s death, later to become Mrs Warboys when she carries on the family tradition of marrying a Seventh Day Adventist missionary. The church Ferne is married in, in 1941, is the same location for Joseph’s memorial service in 1927, with work at the Weet-Bix factory stopped that day for the staff to pay their respects. The service opens with the hymn "When Jesus Calls his Jewels", and closes with "Sweet be thy rest, and peaceful thy sleeping".
Janet and William live out the rest of their days staying with Nettie at 17 Elizabeth Street, Wahroonga, a mere 10 minute walk from the Sanitarium. Janet dies first in October 1951, with William passing away just 3 months later, aged 89 and 88 respectively [34]. Janet’s cause of death is listed simply as senility, with no clue as to the nature of her lifelong illnesses which kickstarted her voyage around the world, cut short their adventures in New Zealand, and resulted in the remarkable legacy of documentation available today through which we can track her family’s activities over two continents of space and a century of time. Janet and William are buried together in a plot in Avondale Adventist Cemetery next to Joseph. A space on the headstone is left for Nettie, but this is not her final resting place.
Following Ferne to New Zealand after the death of her mother and step-father, Nettie dies aged 75 in 1961 in Christchurch, and is buried in Ruru Lawn Cemetery. Her gravestone reads “In loving memory of Nettie Glenn Mills. Beloved wife of the late pastor Joseph Mills, loved mother of Ferne Althea Worboys. Died March 15 1961 aged 75 years. Awaiting the resurrection”. It’s quite literally half a world away from the grave of her little sister Lottie, in the north end of a cemetery on the outskirts of the little North Yorkshire market town of Thirsk. Had Janet and Nettie perhaps visited her grave en route to their ship the Orizaba? Was 1893 the last time a family member had visited Lottie? On our lockdown walks in the cemetery we added flowers to Lottie’s grave, but weren’t the first people to do so. Viewing the various photos on grave registry websites there is also evidence of her grave being cleaned and tended to; it’s strangely comforting to know that the “children of Thirsk” weren’t the last to take care of 'dear little' Lottie Hamilton.