This Ford Handbook is in good condition. This book covers at least 97% of the instructions necessary for servicing the 1950 and 1951 models.Repair and Maintenance book covering all models of ford including V8, "60" and FORD SIXOn page 106 of the handbook there is, in handwriting, CABLE OPERATED BRAKES, Spring, Colour & Position Guide. Hand drawn picture with details marking the layout and details of the spring, colour & position.electrical, steering, ford, engine, transmission, accessory, ford owners, car repair, v8, 60, ford six, repair and maintenance, ford engine, clutch, body, chassis, shockers, cooling system, fuel system, suspension, rear, axle, brakes, shock absorbers, rear axle

These stops were attached to both ends of the wagon as part of the coupling system and to absorb any impact between wagons or carriages,This item is significant as it was typical of systems on locomotives used on the New South Wales and Victorian passenger and freight trains which serviced the northeast region of Victoria.A large rigid metal Buffer stop from a NSW T class wagon. railways, buffer shock absorbers, vintage trains, new south wales trains

Hames are attached to a horse collar used to distribute the load around a horse's neck and shoulders when pulling a wagon or plough. The collar often supports and pads a pair of curved metal or wood pieces, called hames, to which the traces, which attach to the wagon or plough, of the harness are attached. The collar allows the horse to use its full strength when pulling. This pair of hames would have been used on a farm in the Orbost district for pulling ploughs or other farm implements.Horses were a vital part of the agricultural industry in Orbost before the mechanisation of farm machinery. This item is associated with that time.Wooden hames with leather traces which have chains and springs (to absorb shock) on each end.equestrian rural farming harness traces

HISTORY OF THE LOCH ARD: - The Loch Ard got its name from ”Loch Ard” a loch that lies to the west of Aberfoyle, and to the east of Loch Lomond. It means "high lake" in Scottish Gaelic. The vessel belonged to the famous Loch Line which sailed many vessels from England to Australia. The Loch Ard was built in Glasgow by Barclay, Curdle and Co. in 1873, the vessel was a three-masted square-rigged iron sailing ship that measured 79.87 meters in length, 11.58 m in width, and 7 m in depth with a gross tonnage of 1693 tons with a mainmast that measured a massive 45.7 m in height. Loch Ard made three trips to Australia and one trip to Calcutta before its fateful voyage. Loch Ard left England on March 2, 1878, under the command of 29-year-old Captain Gibbs, who was newly married. The ship was bound for Melbourne with a crew of 37, plus 17 passengers. The general cargo reflected the affluence of Melbourne at the time. Onboard were straw hats, umbrellas, perfumes, clay pipes, pianos, clocks, confectionery, linen and candles, as well as a heavier load of railway irons, cement, lead and copper. There were other items included that were intended for display in the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880. The voyage to Port Phillip was long but uneventful. Then at 3 am on June 1, 1878, Captain Gibbs was expecting to see land. But the Loch Ard was running into a fog which greatly reduced visibility. Captain Gibbs was becoming anxious as there was no sign of land or the Cape Otway lighthouse. At 4 am the fog lifted and a lookout aloft announced that he could see breakers. The sheer cliffs of Victoria's west coast came into view, and Captain Gibbs realised that the ship was much closer to them than expected. He ordered as much sail to be set as time would permit and then attempted to steer the vessel out to sea. On coming head-on into the wind, the ship lost momentum, the sails fell limp and Loch Ard's bow swung back towards land. Gibbs then ordered the anchors to be released in an attempt to hold their position. The anchors sank some 50 fathoms - but did not hold. By this time the ship was among the breakers and the tall cliffs of Mutton Bird Island rose behind. Just half a mile from the coast, the ship's bow was suddenly pulled around by the anchor. The captain tried to tack out to sea, but the ship struck a reef at the base of Mutton Bird Island, near Port Campbell. Waves subsequently broke over the ship and the top deck became loosened from the hull. The masts and rigging came crashing down knocking passengers and crew overboard. When a lifeboat was finally launched, it crashed into the side of Loch Ard and capsized. Tom Pearce, who had launched the boat, managed to cling to its overturned hull and shelter beneath it. He drifted out to sea and then on the flood tide came into what is now known as Loch Ard Gorge. He swam to shore, bruised and dazed, and found a cave in which to shelter. Some of the crew stayed below deck to shelter from the falling rigging but drowned when the ship slipped off the reef into deeper water. Eva Carmichael a passenger had raced onto the deck to find out what was happening only to be confronted by towering cliffs looming above the stricken ship. In all the chaos, Captain Gibbs grabbed Eva and said, "If you are saved Eva, let my dear wife know that I died like a sailor". That was the last Eva Carmichael saw of the captain. She was swept off the ship by a huge wave. Eva saw Tom Pearce on a small rocky beach and yelled to attract his attention. He dived in and swam to the exhausted woman and dragged her to shore. He took her to the cave and broke the open case of brandy which had washed up on the beach. He opened a bottle to revive the unconscious woman. A few hours later Tom scaled a cliff in search of help. He followed hoof prints and came by chance upon two men from nearby Glenample Station three and a half miles away. In a complete state of exhaustion, he told the men of the tragedy. Tom then returned to the gorge while the two men rode back to the station to get help. By the time they reached Loch Ard Gorge, it was cold and dark. The two shipwreck survivors were taken to Glenample Station to recover. Eva stayed at the station for six weeks before returning to Ireland by steamship. In Melbourne, Tom Pearce received a hero's welcome. He was presented with the first gold medal of the Royal Humane Society of Victoria and a £1000 cheque from the Victorian Government. Concerts were performed to honour the young man's bravery and to raise money for those who lost family in the disaster. Of the 54 crew members and passengers on board, only two survived: the apprentice, Tom Pearce and the young woman passenger, Eva Carmichael, who lost her family in the tragedy. Ten days after the Loch Ard tragedy, salvage rights to the wreck were sold at auction for £2,120. Cargo valued at £3,000 was salvaged and placed on the beach, but most washed back into the sea when another storm developed. The wreck of Loch Ard still lies at the base of Mutton Bird Island. Much of the cargo has now been salvaged and some items were washed up into Loch Ard Gorge. Cargo and artefacts have also been illegally salvaged over many years before protective legislation was introduced in March 1982. One of the most unlikely pieces of cargo to have survived the shipwreck was a Minton majolica peacock- one of only nine in the world. The peacock was destined for the Melbourne 1880 International Exhibition. It had been well packed, which gave it adequate protection during the violent storm. Today the Minton peacock can be seen at the Flagstaff Hill Maritime Museum in Warrnambool. From Australia's most dramatic shipwreck, it has now become Australia's most valuable shipwreck artifact and is one of very few 'objects' on the Victorian State Heritage Register.The shipwreck of the Loch Ard is of significance for Victoria and is registered on the Victorian Heritage Register ( S 417). Flagstaff Hill has a varied collection of artefacts from Loch Ard and its collection is significant for being one of the largest accumulation of artefacts from this notable Victorian shipwreck. The collections object is to also give us a snapshot into history so we are able to interpret the story of this tragic event. The collection is also archaeologically significant as it represents aspects of Victoria's shipping history that allows us to interpret Victoria's social and historical themes of the time. The collections historically significance is that it is associated unfortunately with the worst and best-known shipwreck in Victoria's history. Heavy duty brass sleeve retrieved from the wreck of the LOCH ARD. It is pinched and broken off at one end, enclosing an extendable inner sleeve, which is connected to a brass bracket fixed at right angles. The circular enclosing bracket would hold (and fix by an adjustable brass screw) a through or cross pipe of similar diameter to the outer sleeve. The artefact is a structural piece delivering vertical support to a horizontal rail (missing) and not for transporting gas. It is constructed of thick gauge metal suitable for weight/load bearing and its sliding sleeve design is similar to a modern shock absorber, or a telescopic leg supporting a surveying instrument. There is concreting sediment immobilising the sleeves and lining the inner surface of the bracket. flagstaff hill, warrnambool, shipwrecked coast, flagstaff hill maritime museum, maritime museum, shipwreck coast, flagstaff hill maritime village, great ocean road, loch line, loch ard, captain gibbs, eva carmichael, tom pearce, glenample station, mutton bird island, loch ard gorge, brass fitting, brass pipe, 1878 shipwreck

Black powder splitting guns were commonly used to split large logs into more manageable pieces before the advent of excavators and front-end loaders in bush logging operations. A typical splitting gun used in Victorian forests was a piece of high-grade steel about 1-1/2 to 2 inches in diameter and about 16 inches long, and slightly tapered at one end. They had a ¾ inch hole drilled about 9 inches deep into the centre of the shaft with a small pilot hole drilled from the outside to load the fuse. The tube was carefully loaded with an amount of black gunpowder using a funnel and spoon. Experience being the guide on how much powder to use, which depended on log size, species and difficulty of splitting the wood. The hole was stopped with a piece of wadded paper and the gun positioned at the end of a length of the log to be split. The splitting gun was then belted into the log with a large wooden maul or even the back of an axe to a depth of about 3 to 4 inches. There were often markings as a guide. This also had the effect of tamping the black powder inside the gun. Preferably the gun was backed up by another large log to absorb the shock and avoid it flying off in the bush somewhere. I have seen guns where a length of string and coloured flag could be attached to help find them. A length of fuse was then inserted in the small hole and lit. Kaboom !!!! Needless to say, the splitting gun was a dangerous implement.Commonly used to split pulpwood but now rareBlack Powder Splitting GunFive marking rings used to guide how far the gun was in the logforest harvesting

[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