This book was part of a large group of books referred to as the Pattison Collection, which belonged to the Warrnambool Public Library, part of the Warrnambool Mechanics’ Institute. About RALPH ERIC PATTISON and the ‘PATTISON COLLECTION’ The ‘Pattison Collection’ is a collection of books and records that was originally owned by the Warrnambool Mechanics’ Institute, founded in Warrnambool in 1853. By 1886 the Warrnambool Mechanics’ Institute (WMI) had grown to have a Library, Museum and Fine Arts Gallery, with a collection of “… choice productions of art and valuable specimens in almost every branch and many wonderful national curiosities, are now to be seen there, including historic relics of the town and district.” It later included a School of Design. Although it was very well patronised, the WMI was led to ask the City Council to take it over in 1911 due to a lack of financial support. In 1935 Ralph Pattison was appointed as City Librarian to establish and organise the Warrnambool Public Library as it was then called. Ralph Eric Pattison was born in Rockhampton, Queensland, in 1891. He married Maude Swan from Warrnambool in 1920 and they set up a home in Warrnambool. In 1935 when Pattison accepted the position as City Librarian for the Warrnambool City Council his huge challenge was to make a functional library within two rooms of the Mechanics’ Institute. He tirelessly cleaned, cleared and sorted a disarrayed collection of old books, jars of preserved specimens and other items reserved for exhibition in the city’s museum. He developed and updated the library with a wide variety of books for all tastes, including reference books for students; a difficult task to fulfil during the years following the Depression. He converted all of the lower areas of the building into a library, reference room and reading room for members and the public. The books were sorted and stored using a cataloguing and card index system that he had developed himself. He also prepared the upper floor of the building and established the Art Gallery and later the Museum, a place to exhibit the many old relics that had been stored for years for this purpose. One of the treasures he found was a beautiful ancient clock, which he repaired, restored and enjoyed using in his office during the years of his service there. Ralph Pattison was described as “a meticulous gentleman whose punctuality, floorless courtesy and distinctive neat dress were hallmarks of his character, and ‘his’ clock controlled his daily routine and his opening and closing of the library’s large heavy doors to the minute.” Pattison took leave from 1942 to 1945 to serve in the Royal Australian Navy, Volunteer Reserve as Lieutenant. A few years later he converted one of the Museum’s rooms into a Children’s Library, stocking it with suitable books for the younger generation. This was an instant success. In the 1950’s he had the honour of being appointed to the Victorian Library Board and received more inspiration from the monthly conferences in Melbourne. He was sadly retired in 1959 after over 23 years of service, due to the fact that he had gone over the working age of council officers. However, he continued to take a very keen interest in the continual development of the Library until his death in 1969. THE NEW WARRNAMBOOL LIBRARY When the WMI building was pulled down in 1963 a new civic building was erected on the site and the new Warrnambool Library, on behalf of the City Council, took over all the holdings of the WMI. At this time some of the items were separated and identified as the ‘Pattison Collection’, named after Pattison. Eventually, the components of the WMI were distributed from the Warrnambool Library to various places, including the Art Gallery, Historical Society and Flagstaff Hill. Later some were even distributed to other regional branches of Corangamite Regional Library and passed to and fro. It is difficult now to trace just where all of the items have ended up. The books at Flagstaff Hill Maritime Village generally display stamps and markings from Pattison as well as a variety of other institutions including the Mechanics’ Institute itself. The Pattison Collection, along with other items at Flagstaff Hill Maritime Village, was originally part of the Warrnambool Mechanics' Institute’s collection. The Warrnambool Mechanics’ Institute Collection is primarily significant in its totality, rather than for the individual objects it contains. Its contents are highly representative of the development of Mechanics' Institute libraries across Australia, particularly Victoria. A diversity of publications and themes has been amassed, and these provide clues to our understanding of the nature of and changes in the reading habits of Victorians from the 1850s to the middle of the 20th century. The collection also highlights the Warrnambool community’s commitment to the Mechanics’ Institute, reading, literacy and learning in the regions, and proves that access to knowledge was not impeded by distance. These items help to provide a more complete picture of our community’s ideals and aspirations. The Warrnambool Mechanics Institute book collection has historical and social significance for its strong association with the Mechanics Institute movement and the important role it played in the intellectual, cultural and social development of people throughout the latter part of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century. The collection of books is a rare example of an early lending library and its significance is enhanced by the survival of an original collection of many volumes. The Warrnambool Mechanics' Institute’s publication collection is of both local and state significance. Love-And The Philosopher Author: Marie Corelli Publisher: Methuen & Co Date: 1923 Further Information: The label on the spine cover with typed text PAT 823 COR Paste down front end paper has a sticker from Warrnambool Mechanics Institute and Free Library covered by a sticker from Corangamite Regional Library Service. Front loose end paper has a stamp from Corangamite Regional Library Service. Front loose end paper has a stamp from Warrnambool Public Library.flagstaff hil, warrnambool, flagstaff hill maritime museum, maritime museum, shipwreck coast, flagstaff hill maritime village, great ocean road, book, pattison collection, warrnambool library, warrnambool mechanics’ institute, ralph eric pattison, corangamite regional library service, warrnambool city librarian, mechanics’ institute library, victorian library board, warrnambool books and records, warrnambool children’s library, love-and the philosopher, marie corelli

[from EDHS Newsletter No. 75, November 1990:] WALTER WITHERS PLAQUE At long last we have unveiled our plaque in the Walter Withers Reserve. The function was attended by a number of members and friends of the Society and descendants of the Withers family. Following the unveiling, the group proceeded to the Eltham Shire Office for afternoon tea and a small exhibition of Withers' paintings arranged by Andrew Mackenzie. The unveiling was performed by Mary Owen, a grand-daughter of Walter Withers. Her speech provided an interesting personal perspective on Withers and is repeated in full here: I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the responsibility of paying tribute to the man you have all come to honour today. I have the feeling that most of you probably know more about him and his work than I do. Walter Withers died nearly seven years before I was born and so I never knew him. Sadly, although other members of his family inherited some of his talent, I was not among them and I know very little about art. This is doubly hard to bear because my husband had some ability to draw and my second daughter also has some talent in this direction. My children are all artistic - mostly in the field of music inherited partly from their father - a Welshman who sang like a Welshman - and partly from my grandmother, Fanny Withers who, I believe was no mean pianist. However all this talent gave me a miss and for many years I felt a complete ignoramus in the fields of the arts. It was not until I was nearly fifty years old that I walked into a gallery in Brisbane and, as I wandered around the room, suddenly one picture leapt at me and I knew instantly that it had been painted by my grandfather. I had never seen the picture before and it gave me quite a shock to find that I had recognized the style of painting. I realized then that I had absorbed more than I realized simply by living with pictures and with people who painted them and talked about their painting and the painting of others. When I was a child I sometimes spent school holidays with my Aunt Margery Withers and her husband, Richard McCann. Aunt Marge painted me several times but I'm afraid I was a restless subject and used to sit reading a book and look up grudgingly when she wanted to paint my eyes. During the September holidays my aunt and uncle were busy preparing paintings far the annual exhibition of the Melbourne Twenty Painters, to which they both belonged. I remember how important I used to feel when they took me along to the Athenaeum Gallery on the Friday night before the opening to help hang their pictures. There were many artists there but the two I remember are perhaps surprisingly both women: Miss Bale and Miss Tweddle. I remember how cold it used to be up in that gallery at night. They used to heat water on a gas ring to make tea and Aunt Marge used to bring sandwiches and fruit for our evening meal. Everyone seemed to be poor in those days and no-one dreamed of going out for a meal. It was a case of make-do - even to cutting down frames to fit pictures or cutting pictures to fit the frames. They had to use the same frames from year to year if the pictures didn't sell. The opening was an exciting event for me. I felt I was privileged to meet important people - people who knew a lot more than I - and Uncle Dick would get quite merry after a couple of the tiny sweet sherries which were always distributed. I realise now that quite a lot of "art talk" rubbed off on me during my visits to the Athenaeum and during my stays with my aunt and uncle. I suspect that much of our most useful learning comes this way and those of us who have had the privilege of associating with artists, writers, philosophers and other thinkers have a richness in our lives of which we may be unaware. Walter Withers was a prolific painter and, although he painted for love of it, I suspect that the need to provide for his family drove him, like Mozart, to greater efforts than he might otherwise have achieved. Reading old letters and articles about the Heidelberg artists, I have come to realize something of the constant strain placed on many of them - particularly Withers and McCubbin - by poverty and the need to make ends meet. Withers was ever conscious of the need to provide for his wife and his five children and there are touching letters to his wife, regretting that he was not able to earn more for them. In addition to his painting, he worked hard at teaching and illustrating and, as he grew older, the strain began to tell and his health deteriorated. He seems never to have had a very strong constitution and suffered from rheumatism, which must have made painting quite painful at times. His eldest daughter, Gladys, was eventually confined to a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis and I have a tendency to arthritis myself, so I am particularly aware of what this could have meant to him. Recently I found a short letter written by my mother to her mother, Fanny Withers on the anniversary of her father's birthday in 1919, in which she said: "Poor old Dad, I often think now what a lot he must have suffered. His life was too hard and too strenuous for him. He had too many chick-a-biddies, I think. He wasn't equal to so much town life and train journeys with so many delicacies as he had. Since I have been ill, I have realised what he must have felt like.” He certainly drove himself to produce. He travelled all over Victoria by train, buggy, bicycle and on foot and for a time he travelled from Eltham to Melbourne every day by train, although later he lived in Melbourne during the week and only returned to Eltham for the weekends. My mother died seven years after her father's death, when my twin sisters were 10 days old and I was 16 months. So I never knew my mother or my grandfather. But my two aunts, Gladys and Margery, sometimes took me to stay with Gan Withers at Southernwood in Bolton Street . No cars in those days and it seemed a very long hot and dusty walk from the Station. Three memories remain with me of Southernwood. One is the well at the back which I found quite terrifying; the second is Gan killing a snake - even more terrifying. She was a formidable woman, my grandmother and a great ally and support to her husband. I think she was the business end of the partnership. The third memory of Southernwood is my grandfather's studio – down what seemed like a toy staircase inside the room. This and the big walk-in fireplace stayed in my mind from the age of about six until I saw them again about forty years later when the house was being used as a Sunday School. I just wish that money could be found to purchase this old house for the City of Eltham so that a permanent museum could be established in memory of a man who did so much to put Eltham on the map of art history. Recently I have become interested in family history and spent some time in England, Ireland and Wales looking for traces of my ancestors. I realized then how important it is to have records of people who have contributed to our society. We forget so soon and it is amazing how often, within two generations, names, dates and many details are forgotten. We are fortunate that so many of Walter Withers' works have been bought by galleries and that people like Andrew Mackenzie have taken the trouble to search out people who knew him and to write about him and his work. And I am very grateful to the Historical Society of Eltham for recognizing the importance of having a permanent tribute in Eltham to the contribution made by Walter Withers, who loved Eltham so much and who has assured this lovely district a place in the annals of history. I am indebted to Kathleen Mangan; the daughter of another famous Australian painter , Fred McCubbin, - featured in The Age this morning (thanks again to Andrew Mackenzie) for the most apt tribute to Walter Withers. Kathleen is not well and she rang me a couple of days ago, regretting that she could not be present today “to pay tribute” as she said, “to Walter Withers for I always think Walter Withers is the spirit of Eltham.” Thank you, Kathleen. And now I have much pleasure in unveiling the plaque commissioned by the Eltham Historical Society from Bob McLellan of Charmac Industries to commemorate the life and work of Walter Withers, the spirit of Eltham. Mary Owen, 13 October 1990.Three colour photographswalter withers rock, walter withers reserve, mary owen

[from EDHS Newsletter No. 75, November 1990:] WALTER WITHERS PLAQUE At long last we have unveiled our plaque in the Walter Withers Reserve. The function was attended by a number of members and friends of the Society and descendants of the Withers family. Following the unveiling, the group proceeded to the Eltham Shire Office for afternoon tea and a small exhibition of Withers' paintings arranged by Andrew Mackenzie. The unveiling was performed by Mary Owen, a grand-daughter of Walter Withers. Her speech provided an interesting personal perspective on Withers and is repeated in full here: I feel somewhat overwhelmed by the responsibility of paying tribute to the man you have all come to honour today. I have the feeling that most of you probably know more about him and his work than I do. Walter Withers died nearly seven years before I was born and so I never knew him. Sadly, although other members of his family inherited some of his talent, I was not among them and I know very little about art. This is doubly hard to bear because my husband had some ability to draw and my second daughter also has some talent in this direction. My children are all artistic - mostly in the field of music inherited partly from their father - a Welshman who sang like a Welshman - and partly from my grandmother, Fanny Withers who, I believe was no mean pianist. However all this talent gave me a miss and for many years I felt a complete ignoramus in the fields of the arts. It was not until I was nearly fifty years old that I walked into a gallery in Brisbane and, as I wandered around the room, suddenly one picture leapt at me and I knew instantly that it had been painted by my grandfather. I had never seen the picture before and it gave me quite a shock to find that I had recognized the style of painting. I realized then that I had absorbed more than I realized simply by living with pictures and with people who painted them and talked about their painting and the painting of others. When I was a child I sometimes spent school holidays with my Aunt Margery Withers and her husband, Richard McCann. Aunt Marge painted me several times but I'm afraid I was a restless subject and used to sit reading a book and look up grudgingly when she wanted to paint my eyes. During the September holidays my aunt and uncle were busy preparing paintings far the annual exhibition of the Melbourne Twenty Painters, to which they both belonged. I remember how important I used to feel when they took me along to the Athenaeum Gallery on the Friday night before the opening to help hang their pictures. There were many artists there but the two I remember are perhaps surprisingly both women: Miss Bale and Miss Tweddle. I remember how cold it used to be up in that gallery at night. They used to heat water on a gas ring to make tea and Aunt Marge used to bring sandwiches and fruit for our evening meal. Everyone seemed to be poor in those days and no-one dreamed of going out for a meal. It was a case of make-do - even to cutting down frames to fit pictures or cutting pictures to fit the frames. They had to use the same frames from year to year if the pictures didn't sell. The opening was an exciting event for me. I felt I was privileged to meet important people - people who knew a lot more than I - and Uncle Dick would get quite merry after a couple of the tiny sweet sherries which were always distributed. I realise now that quite a lot of "art talk" rubbed off on me during my visits to the Athenaeum and during my stays with my aunt and uncle. I suspect that much of our most useful learning comes this way and those of us who have had the privilege of associating with artists, writers, philosophers and other thinkers have a richness in our lives of which we may be unaware. Walter Withers was a prolific painter and, although he painted for love of it, I suspect that the need to provide for his family drove him, like Mozart, to greater efforts than he might otherwise have achieved. Reading old letters and articles about the Heidelberg artists, I have come to realize something of the constant strain placed on many of them - particularly Withers and McCubbin - by poverty and the need to make ends meet. Withers was ever conscious of the need to provide for his wife and his five children and there are touching letters to his wife, regretting that he was not able to earn more for them. In addition to his painting, he worked hard at teaching and illustrating and, as he grew older, the strain began to tell and his health deteriorated. He seems never to have had a very strong constitution and suffered from rheumatism, which must have made painting quite painful at times. His eldest daughter, Gladys, was eventually confined to a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis and I have a tendency to arthritis myself, so I am particularly aware of what this could have meant to him. Recently I found a short letter written by my mother to her mother, Fanny Withers on the anniversary of her father's birthday in 1919, in which she said: "Poor old Dad, I often think now what a lot he must have suffered. His life was too hard and too strenuous for him. He had too many chick-a-biddies, I think. He wasn't equal to so much town life and train journeys with so many delicacies as he had. Since I have been ill, I have realised what he must have felt like.” He certainly drove himself to produce. He travelled all over Victoria by train, buggy, bicycle and on foot and for a time he travelled from Eltham to Melbourne every day by train, although later he lived in Melbourne during the week and only returned to Eltham for the weekends. My mother died seven years after her father's death, when my twin sisters were 10 days old and I was 16 months. So I never knew my mother or my grandfather. But my two aunts, Gladys and Margery, sometimes took me to stay with Gan Withers at Southernwood in Bolton Street . No cars in those days and it seemed a very long hot and dusty walk from the Station. Three memories remain with me of Southernwood. One is the well at the back which I found quite terrifying; the second is Gan killing a snake - even more terrifying. She was a formidable woman, my grandmother and a great ally and support to her husband. I think she was the business end of the partnership. The third memory of Southernwood is my grandfather's studio – down what seemed like a toy staircase inside the room. This and the big walk-in fireplace stayed in my mind from the age of about six until I saw them again about forty years later when the house was being used as a Sunday School. I just wish that money could be found to purchase this old house for the City of Eltham so that a permanent museum could be established in memory of a man who did so much to put Eltham on the map of art history. Recently I have become interested in family history and spent some time in England, Ireland and Wales looking for traces of my ancestors. I realized then how important it is to have records of people who have contributed to our society. We forget so soon and it is amazing how often, within two generations, names, dates and many details are forgotten. We are fortunate that so many of Walter Withers' works have been bought by galleries and that people like Andrew Mackenzie have taken the trouble to search out people who knew him and to write about him and his work. And I am very grateful to the Historical Society of Eltham for recognizing the importance of having a permanent tribute in Eltham to the contribution made by Walter Withers, who loved Eltham so much and who has assured this lovely district a place in the annals of history. I am indebted to Kathleen Mangan; the daughter of another famous Australian painter , Fred McCubbin, - featured in The Age this morning (thanks again to Andrew Mackenzie) for the most apt tribute to Walter Withers. Kathleen is not well and she rang me a couple of days ago, regretting that she could not be present today “to pay tribute” as she said, “to Walter Withers for I always think Walter Withers is the spirit of Eltham.” Thank you, Kathleen. And now I have much pleasure in unveiling the plaque commissioned by the Eltham Historical Society from Bob McLellan of Charmac Industries to commemorate the life and work of Walter Withers, the spirit of Eltham. Mary Owen, 13 October 1990.Two colour photographswalter withers rock, walter withers reserve, mary owen

Great Hall at Montsalvat built 1938-52, designed by Justus Jorgensen Covered under National Estate, National Trust of Australia (Victoria) State Significance, Victorian Heritage and Heritage Overlay, Nillumbik Planning Scheme. Published: Nillumbik Now and Then /​ Marguerite Marshall 2008; photographs Alan King with Marguerite Marshall.; p129 At first glance, Montsalvat, the artists’ community at Hillcrest Avenue, Eltham, could belong to another time and place. The French provincial Gothic-style buildings blend picturesquely with the introduced and native trees and farm animals on the five hectare property. But Montsalvat belongs very much to today’s Eltham, having inspired much of its creative activity and style. The use of mud-brick and recycled building materials, for which Eltham is so well-known, was largely popularised by Montsalvat. Montsalvat – unique in Victoria and probably in Australia – is registered by the National Trust and National Estate.1 Montsalvat, named after the castle of the Knights of the Holy Grail, has attracted artists and intellectuals since it was founded in 1934. For years at weekends, artists, lawyers, philosophers, politicians and others, who shared a love for what Montsalvat stood for, gathered for a meal and stimulating discussion. The focus for this gathering of talent was Justus Jörgensen, an eccentric man with vision and charisma. It was Jörgensen’s foresight that saw the creation of Montsalvat, which in 1975 was formed into a trust to benefit the Victorian people. The property was then valued at about three million dollars. It is now visited by thousands of people annually. Born in 1894 and brought up a Catholic, Jörgensen had trained as an architect. He later studied painting at the National Gallery School under artist, Frederick McCubbin, then joined the studio of artist Max Meldrum. In 1924, Jörgensen married medical student Lillian Smith, and with artist friends they travelled to Europe to study the great masters. In London Jörgensen exhibited in several major galleries. One of his still life paintings was included in the book The Art of Still Life by Herbert Furst, which featured 100 of the greatest ever still life paintings.2 In 1929, Jörgensen returned to Melbourne where Lil, now qualified, worked as an anaesthetist at St Vincent’s Hospital. They bought a small house in Brighton and Jörgensen rented a large building in Queen Street for his studio until the Royal Automobile Club of Victoria bought it in 1955. While designing and overseeing the building of a studio for his friend the famous cartoonist Percy Leason, in Lavender Park Road, Jörgensen decided to buy land for a country retreat in Eltham. So the building of Montsalvat began. Jörgensen gathered around a dozen of his friends and students from his Queen Street studio. They set to work, first at weekends then some decided to live permanently on the site. Jörgensen had seen mud-brick buildings in Spain and recognised that Eltham’s clay soil was ideal for mud-bricks and although labour intensive, it was a very cheap way of building. Jörgensen’s students and friends worked under his direction with the help of local tradesmen, including carpenter, Len Jarrold and later stone mason, Horrie Judd. In return Jörgensen would give the students a painting lesson or two. It was the Great Depression when many were out of work. Jörgensen also inspired people to give generously of money and materials. With their help Jörgensen found second-hand materials for building. Friends donated slate for roofing, discarded firebricks were used for flooring and windows and doors and a cast-iron circular staircase came from a wrecker. The students’ day started at 7am with building and domestic chores, shared equally between the sexes. The first building was used by his friends at weekends and then became a home for his wife Lil. It consisted of three rooms and an attic under a high-pitched roof. Jörgensen then built a similar structure with the same high-pitched roof as a more permanent home for his students. The two buildings were joined together with a tower and a studio for Jörgensen. While excavating for the studio a reef of yellow mud-stone was found and then used in construction. The next building was the Great Hall, to be used for dining, exhibitions and meetings and completed in 1958, after a halt during the war. Whelan the Wrecker donated the stone-framed windows from the building that housed the Victorian Insurance Co. in Collins Street, which had been demolished in the 1930s. The swimming pool was donated and cubicles were built for the students with their initials marked in tiles on each doorstep.1 One of Jörgensen’s great abilities was to recognise how to use material which harmonised. He would comb through wreckers’ yards for what he needed. Regarding his buildings as sculptural pieces, his first consideration was for the aesthetic quality of a building and only then for its functionality.2 At Montsalvat, Jörgensen found he was able to put his ideas into practice without compromise and those who worked with him had to conform to his ideas. With the Jörgensens, the colony’s original nucleus consisted of the Skipper family – Mervyn and wife Lena, daughters Helen and Sonia and son Matcham,who was to become an eminent jeweller and sculptor represented in National Gallery collections throughout Australia and in European museums.3 Other members were Arthur Munday, Lesley Sinclair, Helen Lempriere, Ian Robertson, John Smith, George Chalmers, John Busst and Sue Van der Kellan; also Jörgensen’s three sons – Max, Sebastian and Sigmund – and Saskia, Sonia Skipper and Arthur Munday’s daughter. Montsalvat went through some hard times when local gossips spread rumours of sexual shenanigans at Montsalvat. However Montsalvat also had many local supporters – especially amongst the local tradespeople. The colony was certainly unconventional – with Jörgensen’s wife Lil (and son Max) and life-time partner Helen Skipper, (mother of Sebastian and Sigmund) living at Montsalvat. Sonia Skipper says in her biography that the group were ‘very conscious of their responsibilities to each other and a desire to make their relationships work’.4 By World War Two many buildings around the Great Hall were completed. Jörgensen was a pacifist, as were most of his students. Some of the Montsalvat community enlisted while others engaged in essential services like dairy farming and market gardening for the war effort. It was then that Jörgensen constructed farm buildings. After the war many well-known personalities such as Clifton Pugh, landscape gardener Gordon Ford, and builder Alistair Knox, were drawn to Montsalvat. They learnt that building was not a ‘sacred cow’ only for professionals, but that anyone who was willing to get their hands dirty could do it. The post-war shortage of materials also encouraged builders to follow Montsalvat’s lead in reusing materials. When Jörgensen died in 1975, his influence did not – thanks largely to the vigilance of his son, Sigmund, who became its administrator. The weekend dinners have gone, but in 2008 about 14 artists still work at Montsalvat – some living there – including a couple who have been there since its early days. Under Sigmund’s direction Montsalvat further expanded its activities which included festivals, art exhibitions, concerts and weddings. Sigmund completed the Chapel, then the Long Gallery next to the pool, After the barn burnt down, he replaced it in 1999 (the builder was Hamish Knox, Alistair’s son) with a new gallery and entrance and added a restaurant. Sigmund has been careful that any new building blends in with the character of Montsalvat. In 2006 Montsalvat was restructured for its continued financial viability and with the help of Arts Victoria a new executive officer was appointed. A representative board from the wider community was established, which includes members from the former Montsalvat Trust including Sigmund Jörgensen – who is now the heritage and arts adviser to the new company Montsalvat Ltd.5 Today, visiting Montsalvat one still sees artists, students and visitors enjoying the unique and beautiful surroundings.This collection of almost 130 photos about places and people within the Shire of Nillumbik, an urban and rural municipality in Melbourne's north, contributes to an understanding of the history of the Shire. Published in 2008 immediately prior to the Black Saturday bushfires of February 7, 2009, it documents sites that were impacted, and in some cases destroyed by the fires. It includes photographs taken especially for the publication, creating a unique time capsule representing the Shire in the early 21st century. It remains the most recent comprehenesive publication devoted to the Shire's history connecting local residents to the past. nillumbik now and then (marshall-king) collection, eltham, great hall, montsalvat