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Updated: May 15, 2025
Evidently this was not sufficient to merit representation in the Assembly of 1624. The fact that Archer's Hope had a commander, Thomas Bransby, and that its inhabitants had been cautioned not to go too far from their homes alone, even when armed, leads to the conclusion that there was still danger from the Indian, "the Enemie," even in 1625.
Bransby guided him and his foster-parents, the dazed little boy found it almost impossible to determine upon which of the two main floors he happened to be.
J. Bransby says that the produce of three seeds, which must be reared by heat before planting out, supplied his own table and those of two of his friends from June till the frost killed it. It might be Te Pahi, a famous chief, but it is reported that he died soon after the affair of the "Boyd," in 1809, some time before Rutherford's arrival in New Zealand.
Bransby had already corresponded, in the school, was soon dispatched, and once more the iron gate swung open upon its weirdly complaining hinges, then went to again with a bang and a clang, and the little boy from far Virginia, with the wistful grey eyes and the sunny curls was alone in a throng of curious school-fellows, and in the dimness, the strangeness, the vastness of a hoary, mysterious mansion full of echoes, and of quaint crannies and closets where shadows lurked by day as well as by candle-light.
Dr. Bransby whose sour visage, snuffy habiliments and upraised ferule seemed so terrible to young Edgar that on the following Sunday when he went to service in the Gothic church, it was with a spirit of deep wonder and perplexity that he regarded from the school gallery the reverend man with countenance so demurely benign, with robes so glossy and so clerically flowing, with wig so minutely powdered, so rigid and so vast, who, with solemn step and slow, ascended the high pulpit.
"Yes, sir." "Hm! You're all right, apparently," growled the officer. Then he barked: "Housewife?" "Oh, very well, thank you," said the recruit amiably. "How's yours?" There is a story of Bransby Williams, famous impersonator of Dickens's characters, which will come home to many of us in these days of food shortage. He had a hard time before he "arrived," and hunger was a familiar companion.
Bransby had also fitted up as dormitories; although, being the merest closets, they were capable of accommodating but a single individual. One of these small apartments was occupied by Wilson.
In a remote and terror-inspiring angle was a square enclosure of eight or ten feet, comprising the sanctum, "during hours," of our principal, the Reverend Dr. Bransby. It was a solid structure, with massy door, sooner than open which in the absence of the "Dominic," we would all have willingly perished by the peine forte et dure.
Ah, here indeed, was a place made for dreaming! In the midst of the town lay the Manor House School where the scholarly Dr. Bransby, who preached in the Gothic church on Sundays, upon week-days instructed boys in various branches of polite learning and also frequently flogged them.
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