The house stood two storeys high and had a fantastic garden sloping down to the road below. It was named Craigmin East and was co-adjacent to a similar building called Craigmin West. The access road to our house wound up from the main road below, past Craigmin West along a cemented terrace flanked by a low stone wall. This wall was crowned by five white porcelain elephants wearing brightly coloured saddles, upon which sat porcelain flower pots containing a variety of flowering plants. Bushes of daisy plants in several colours stood along the foot of this wall which ended in a small courtyard around the corner of our house and flanked on the left by steps leading up to the large front door, the bannisters of which were hidden by a magnificent bougainvillea. On the right were shorter steps, leading via a stone path, to a huge Chinese Moon door, which it its turn gave access to the extensive hillside garden. This garden was divided by stone stairways, bordered by more porcelain elephants each side, all leading down to the bottom of the property where it joined the road below. To the right of the Moon Door and facing the house was a small square garden filled with beautiful hibiscus shrubs, several of which were of the famous Rose of Sharon variety, in pink and peach. In addition, a huge pink and blue hydrangeas grew beside the Moon Door and here also, were several species of Camellia. The square garden was also bordered by a platform containing a carved stone seat with three lovely coloured porcelain heads on columns, of ladies in period hair styles, imported from Italy. This platform, on a line with the stone terrace leading past both houses, gave a superb view of the
2 Bombed by the Japanese in World War II.
3 My father, together with his predecessor as Headmaster of Queens, Dr Bateson Wright, compiled a Chinese-English-English-Chinese dictionary, which was published sometime during the turn of the century. Two of my father's pupils in Old Queens were Sun Vat Sen and the philantrophist and millionaire Sir Robert Ho Tung.
4 Cause of death -brain cancer.

panorama already described. Between the steps leading to the house front door and the Moon Door garden was a passage leading to the back of the house and the servants quarters13 The hill rose steeply at the rear of the house, to form a vast wall topped by trees and vegetation, this providing some protection in times of violent tropical storms, to which the Island was very prone during the typhoon season. The hillside, sloping down to the road below the Moon Door, was one mass of brilliant azalea bushes at certain seasons of the year and were much admired by passersby on the road.

The interior of the house was lavish; a basement containing my father's wine cellar, the first floor with large lounge and carved fireplace, which in turn, led out to the dining room, also with fireplace. This room was provided with a punka at one end, this being adjacent to an arched door, giving off to the pantries, kitchen and back quarters. Between the front entrance and the house interior ran a wide verandah, which surrounded the front of the lounge and giving access to it through high French windows. The tall windows of the verandah looked out over the magnificent sea view and islands already mentioned. A large hall stood behind the verandah porch entrance to the house, on its left was the lounge and immediately in front, a door into the dining room (which also had access into the lounge]. On the right of the hall was the beautifully carved teak staircase leading to the nursery half way up, and then finally to the second storey containing the two bedrooms, my father's study and the bathrooms and toilets, etc. Here again a nine feet wide tiled and enclosed verandah surrounded the rooms and also faced the sea and the lovely view.

Now to a fuller description of the rooms themselves. The floors were of polished teak throughout the interior. The heavy, delicately coloured curtains were of some species of fine Chinese silk, hung in graceful folds on either side of the high windows. A bead curtain filled the arched entrance leading from the dining room to the back quarters and a bronze temple gong was suspended from the arched centre. The punka, operated by number two coolie, cooled the hot, humid air during most of the year, making the dining hours as pleasant as possible. At night the huge blackwood carved table with its sparkling accoutrements glittered in the soft light of the gaslamps, set around the walls and the glow from the cut glass chandelier in the ceiling above. The lounge was a treasure house of curios, some of quite considerable value, such as Japanese ivories, Chinese statues, vases, etc. The walls were hung with a variety of paintings, mostly originals, including quite a few painted by my mother, who was a trained portrait painter 5 and awarded the gold and silver medals for portraits exhibited in the Arts Exhibition in Hong Kong during the early years of the century.

My mother painted a full length portrait of my father in his cap and gown, which hung in the Assembly Hall of Old Queens College. Unfortunately, it was destroyed when the college was bombed by the Japanese in World War IIII Also, a copy of Landseers "Sleeping Bloodhound" was painted by motherII It was commissioned by Stoneyhurst School to hang in one of its halls - it may possibly do so to this day?
Page 14.

In a corner between one of the French windows, which opened opened out on to the verandah, stood a tall carved blackwood table supporting a black lacquer case about four to five feet high and three feet in width. The open doors of this cabinet showed the scarlet lined interior surrounding a fine gold plated figure of Buddha, a curious large gem of changing colours glittering on its forehead. Legend had it that the case and contents were stolen from a Chinese Temple several centuries ago, and found its way to a curio shop in Hong Kong's old Chinese Town, where my father picked it up. In fact, he would frequently visit these places in spite of warnings by the foreign colony not to do so for safety reasons. My father took his shillelagh with him and, armed with this was ready to beat up any Chinese who dared to obstruct his path. The risks were quite serious, but somehow my father got away with it. He always said it was his "Irish luck of the Devil !".

There was a rather amusing incident connected with the Golden Buddha. Previous to one of their trips home to England and on leave from Hong Kong, my parents accepted the offer of some friends of theirs to give the precious statue asylum while they were away. Upon their return some three months later, they found to their surprise, a note from their friends asking them to collect the Buddha without delay and that explanations would follow. It transpired that the friends had suffered nothing but bad luck from the day the Buddha was first brought to their house; a big money loss, ill health, a break in by burglars, and trouble with the servants. "Did you, by any chance, light a joss stick and kowtow to Buddha every evening ?", asked my father. "Rubbish!", exclaimed his friend, "Of course not 1". "Ah 1",
replied my father, "No wonder you had bad luck 1".

On the further side of the lounge, nearer the door to the dining room, stood a beautiful grand piano on which my father used to play and accompany my mother's singing, for she had a lovely contralto and used to take the solos in the choir of the Anglican Cathedral in Hong Kong. Lovely Chinese rugs were scattered over the polished teak floors and amongst the antique chairs and sofa, which offered comfortable seating. A large and magnificently embossed Indian brass topped, round table offered tea in fine delicate egg shell6 Chinese ware. A variety of scrumptious sandwiches and cakes were displayed on an accompanying hand carved wood cake - stand, on my mother's weekly 'At Home' afternoons. To complete the picture, there was a pile of exquisitely embroidered Chinese grass lawn napkins and sparkling silver tea service and small silver forks and teaspoons. An antique grandfather clock of English make and two hundred years old, its wooden case adorned by paintings by my mother, representing the hours and seasons, stood in a corner of the lounge.

Going up the magnificent staircase, one passed the nursery half way up with its own fireplace and dressing room. It was filled with shelves of expensive books of all kinds; fairy tales, Beatrix Potter stories, Alice in Wonderland, childrens 6 The tea cups and set of accompanying plates, etc. were of Chinese egg shell china of the most delicate
shades of blue and white. history tales, etc., several French dolls with their complete tr~usseau, one or two having their own lavishly appointed beds. A few of these had been given the writer by my mother's French dressmaker, and who gave her clients children a splendid Xmas party every year, which included a huge Xmas tree lit by candles, whose branches were laden with gifts, including the French dolls. After their distribution there was always a generous provision of delicious refreshments, laid out on beautifully appointed tables. My mother would give me morning lessons in the nursery, these included English, geography, history and many other subjects. The only other English schools, administered by the Army, were not considered suitable.

Incidentally, my father always insisted that my mother have her wardrobe made by Madame, or alternatively, he would send for garments made in Paris. One beautiful evening gown I remember was made of a lovely gauzy material with cream background and hand embroidered fern fronds, scattered artistically over its surface. Recollections also come to mind of Chinese tailors coming to the house to create stylish suits of Wssursilk for both my parents. All washing, by the way, was sent out to be laundered - my father often complaining about silk shirts being returned, lacking several pearl buttons.

At the head of the staircase was a balustraded verandah, which lead off into the main bedroom, drying room, large bedroom cum. study and second bedroom, all of which opened up on the outside verandah with its ample windows giving magnificent views of the open sea and islands. My mother used this verandah as a studio for her painting7 .

My father's study was lined from floor to ceiling with books - about two thousand of them - in French, Russian, Chinese and English. My father was a brilliant man, speaking Chinese [Cantonese] as perfectly as he spoke English, and also French to the same degree. He also spoke Russian and Portuguese. Not only was he a gifted linguist, but also a highly qualified mathematician. He had many French friends and also Russian ones. One special family in particular comes to mind; their name was Romanov and they were related in some way to the Russian Royal Family. My father was terribly upset by the total disappearance of these people during the Russian Revolution. One could only surmise that they suffered the same dreadful fate as that of many of their aristocratic compatriots at that time.

When my parents finally left Hong Kong on my father's retirement, the sale of all these things must have been quite heartbreaking for my father. My mother gave the impression that she felt it less painfully. In fact the intensely humid heat never suited her and she longed for the simple life in England. In a similar manner, although my father had the Irish sense of blarney and could be extremely charming when he chose, the humid tropical Hong Kong climate never really suited him and having a violent and intolerant temper which resented opposition, this did not help to make him as happy a man as he might have been. Incidentally, the house was destroyed by Japanese bombing during the Second World War - such is the futility of vast possessions!

Returning to a description of the house; there were nine servants; the cook and scullion, coolie No.1 cum. gardener, coolie No.2, two sedan chair coolies complete with uniforms, Chinese style, of white with royal blue borders on jacket and trousers and finished with a huge letter 'D' also of royal blue on the back of the jacket. In addition there was head boy No's 1 & 2. An amah, employed for sewing and helping to look after the children, used to come in daily. My father himself always engaged the servants and the first thing he did was to examine the pupils of their eyes to see if they were opium smokers. The servants quarters were detached from the main house and no man would ever undertake the work of another, whose job was of a different category. So the chair coolies, when not employed, would gamble or while away the hours story telling and, of course, smoking long pipes. Nothing would ever persuade them to lift a broom or a feather duster. They did, however, keep the chair immaculate for use at a moments notice.

My mother and father often gave large dinner parties, sometimes to wealthy Chinese friends of my father, who brought their own servants to stand behind their chairs. On these occasions the food was entirely Chinese and served Chinese style. It was also the custom to give lavish birthday parties to the children of the foreign colony. Recollections of such events come to mind regarding my own birthdays. My father would send to England for expensive editions of childrens books, a book per invited guest! Each of these volumes was delightfully illustrated, and often bound in leather. The party consisted of games and a bounteous afternoon tea, served on a beautifully appointed table, which groaned with plates of scones, cakes and sweet meats and, of course, the elaborate birthday cake. Sometimes fancy dress was the order of the day.

From time to time the different regiments stationed in the Colony would give excellent performances; such as pantomimes and plays from Shakespeare, notably "Twelfth Night", given by the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry and other regiments. The former was almost wiped out in one of the battles of World War I. Memories also return of being taken to a Chinese Opera - the noise of the music and off-key singing was quite hideous and frightening to a small child and the performers in their weird and brightly coloured costumes appeared, indeed terrifying. The heat was somewhat overpowering in that humid climate and small boys with wet towels would rush back and forth among the audience, offering a little extra coolness to perspiring onlookers. Adding to the general din, members of the audience would wander onto the stage in order to get a better view of the actors and to hear what they were declaiming. Sticky sweetmeats and mysterious drinks in bottles were also offered to the restless audience. These "operas" would go on for hours at a time and were rather wearisome to watch, especially for those who spoke no Chinese.

My father was not afraid of anyone, as the following incident will show; On a certain occasion he had to attend a function at Government House in the days of Sir Frederic Lugard. Having to go straight from work at Queen's, he had taken the appropriate suit of clothes, but had forgotten the requisite pair of black shoes. Keeping on the brown pair he had on, he appeared at the doors of Gov. House and presented his invitation card only to be refused entry by the Sikh Guard on account of the shoes. He went in anyway! History does not relate how he bypassed the guard, but he did!

He also played tennis at one time, but as the years passed his main exercise took the form of walking down from Craigmin East to Queens College in the mornings, or chair and coolies being sent down to bring him back in the evenings, although at one time he also used to walk back up the hill. My mother told the story that on the occasion when a fierce cyclone unexpectedly hit Hong Kong without warning, but lasting only a very short time during the day, my father crawled back home on his hands and knees practically most of the way from Queens, since no
conveyances were available' down town'. The winds were so strong and wild that, together with the buffeting rains, they were impossible to stand up against. Many thousand sampans were sunk and their crews drowned in the harbour on that day and the storm, although of short duration, was noted for being one of the worst ever to hit Hong Kong and causing untold damage.

Typhoons were terrifying. Usually a warning red flag would be flown from the Peak and a Sikh policeman would call at the house to prepare people for the storm. Remembering the bad typhoon which struck just before we left Hong Kong, a picture of the Sikh policeman in oilskins comes to mind, as he hammered on the front door of Craigmin as the rains poured down, and also on the same night, of my parents going round the verandahs with a storm lantern, pushing up the bolts on the storm shutters.

My parents led a social life which was varied and demanding, as owing to my father's position, many functions such as Balls, luncheons and dinners, etc. had to be attended at Government House and elsewhere, including important occasions like prize givings, special dinners at Queens College, etc. All this apart from socialising amongst personal friends and attending the Hong Kong Club, to which my father belonged. Sir Frederick and Lady Lugard were great personal friends of my parents and Lady Lugard would send the Government House chair for my mother, so that she could attend the' At Home' tea parties at G.H., whereas my father had to use our own chair for his own business purposes. Very often in the afternoons my mother would take me walking from the Gap where Craigmin East was situated, down to Victoria City for shopping and afternoon tea at a popular little restaurant much frequented by the British residents and noted for its delicious English style scones and cakes. On the way down to Victoria we would sometimes cross the path of a group of coal bearing coolies, mostly women, with baskets of coal hanging from each end of a long pole, balanced on their shoulders, their faces shaded by the usual huge straw hats. One stepped aside to avoid brushing against them, but once in a while they would purposely pass close enough so that their dirty baskets left black marks on one's light coloured clothing. We would then catch the funicular tram car and ride back up to the Peak, walking home along the Peak Road, often as the short tropical dusk was falling over the glorious view of the islands and the hills sloping down to Happy Valley with its race track and the little fishing village of Aberdeen far below where lights were beginning to twinkle like tiny fairy stars. It was a beautiful and never to be forgotten scene, the gathering twilight lit by hundreds of fire flies, whose minute lanterns lit up the surrounding vegetation and the occasional nullah with its gushing waterfall of rustling water which, entering drain pipes under the dirt roadway, vanished down the hillside far below.

Apart from other social activities, there were picnic parties, when groups of foreign residents would hire a launch to be taken out to one of the surrounding islands, notably Stone Cutters Island, to enjoy swimming in the tepid waters and relaxing on the beach. At times of full moon these parties would also take place and were much enjoyed during the hot tropical nights. Looking back after so many years it all seems like a fairy tale dream - life was so very different and sometimes a bit lonely for a small child whose brothers, so much older in years, were away at school in England, and whom the writer saw for the first time when taken to England at the age of about four or five during my father's leave, which took place, in those days, every six or more years.

Memories return of being on board the liner, which went home via Singapore. The boat was Japanese of the Nippon Yusan Kaisha Line. We always travelled first class and vivid pictures remain of the shows given by the enormously fat wrestlers and the masked sword fencers and dancing girls. We always stayed at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. On one of the trips to England we also called at Ceylon; a most beautiful island. Memories return of afternoon teas, served by servants of the hotel in their native costumes, where the restaurant overlooked steep thickly wooded mountain slopes and terraced tea paddies. . Also the view, at sunset, from the verandah of another hotel of the sacred elephants having their evening dip in, as far as memory serves, a lake higher up in the hills. The scene remains fascinating and exotic; the rich golden clouds lit by the dying glory of the molten sun, their magnificence, reflected in the waters of the lake, made a dramatic backdrop for the silhouettes of the elephants and palm trees, which stood out in black relief upon the lake shore. The picture is as clear today as it was to the small girl, who saw it all those years ago.

Amongst his friends, my father had high regard for several of fhe wealthy Chinese in the Colony, notably Sir Robert Ho Tung, knighted for his philanthropic works in Hong Kong, and who had been one of my father's pupils when he was Under Master at Old Queens College. Sir Robert was so wealthy, he didn't even know how much he was worth. Half Scottish through his mother, he regarded himself as wholly Chinese and wore the robes of the mandarin and the little hat that went with the costume on top of his thick queq'ue, which was red in colour and made a rather unattractive contrast to his ugly and yellowish Oriental face. He had a first or No.1 wife, also half white and various concubines. No.1, to her grief, never had any offspring, so that any children belonging to the concubines were looked upon as being entirely hers. There was an occasion when my mother was commissioned to paint Lady Ho Tung's portrait. To my mother's horror and consternation an amah was sent up with a canvas bag containing a quantity of priceless jewellry, from which she was to choose the most suitable pieces at her leisure, to be worn for the portrait. The amah and bag were sent back immediately, as my mother said she would not dare be responsible for such a valuable collection and Lady Ho Tung was asked if she would kindly sit for a short while, wearing her chosen favourite pieces, either at her home or at my mother's, for the conclusion of the portrait. In spite of his status and wealth, Sir Robert and his family, being regarded as Chinese, were not permitted to live above a certain height on the slopes of the Peak - this was strictly for the British only and other foreign residents.

It was usually regarded as being almost impossible to live in close proximity with the Chinese, since they were totally oblivious to noise, which went on in their homes for most of the twenty four hours; strumming of music, shouting of children and servants. Twittering of hundreds of caged birds also added their different songs to the general cacophony, while in the background could be heard the continuous drone of the professional storyteller, brought in to amuse the harem and also certain of the upper servants. All this, plus the tinkling of fountains in the enclosed patios within the house and the constant music of wind chimes and different bells, made a Chinese household, however wealthy and famous, somewhat difficult to live next door to !

My parents had visitors from overseas to stay with them from time to time, notably the daughter of the Scottish King of the Cocos Islands. The princess's mother was a Polynesian. .

Some foreigners lived in luxurious houses 'down town', rented by their companies. Recollections remain, when staying the night with one of these English families, of being kept awake by never ceasing street noises and cries of hawkers, night watchmen and passing rickshaws and sedan chairs. The writer was always afraid of the dark and can remember dashing up the big staircase at Craigmin East at night, which was dimly lit half way up by he nursery door, and trying to get as fast as

possible to the bedroom on the top floor before some imagined hob goblin flew out from the shadows. It was always fun having a hot bath. There was no running water, so the coolie would bring up great cans of boiling water and empty them into the huge earthenware Chinese decorated tub, which looked like an enormous old fashioned pudding bowl. One climbed a short flight of wooden steps to enter the bath.

When the first world war broke out in 1914, my two brothers, who had been sent from Stonyhurst to Roseworthy Agricultural College in Australia, later joined the Australian Forces in 1916. Sydney trained at Duntroon Flying School and became a Flight Lt. Frank became a corporal in the Infantry. They were both killed in the last three months of the war; Sydney in a fatal flying accident in Scotland while training. He was given a full military funeral at Stony hurst, where he is buried. Frank, in the 43rd Batt. A.I.F, was killed at Suzanne, Sept. 1918. and lies in France, near Albert. It was a terrible shock to my parents. Unfortunately I myself, hardly ever knew them, owing to the circumstances in which we lived.8

There were quite a few Germans in Hong Kong, amongst whom my parents had some good friends. Most of these were interned in prison camps and there were unpleasant scenes at the German Club, where certain members were reported to have stamped upon the British Flag or shouted insults at the Royal Family. Some war prisoners were on the point of escaping, when they were forestalled by the toilet night soil coolies, who complained that their buckets weighed too much. It was discovered this was due to the buckets being filled with earth excavated from the tunnel that the prisoners had almost completed, to make their escape!