Piles, bones and marbles: what was under the Godleys’ house?

Way back in the winter of 2012, at the height of the post-earthquake demolition, I was pretty excited to learn we were going to get the chance to investigate the site of John and Charlotte Godley’s house in Lyttelton. John was a prominent figure in the Canterbury Association, the young settlement’s Chief Agent and is often regarded as one of Canterbury’s founding fathers. Charlotte was his wife and the author of a fantastic volume of letters that record so much detail about life in the new settlement and – importantly for this tale – the house they lived in. And then there was Arthur Godley, their son, born in 1847.

John Robert Godley. Image: Wikipedia.

The house was built for the Godleys in late 1849/early 1850, by the advance party of Canterbury Association surveyors sent to carry out some of the ground work to establish the colony. The house was ready for occupation when the Godleys arrived in Lyttelton in April 1850, although the Godleys only stayed a few days before travelling to Wellington to await the arrival of the first Canterbury Association ships. John Robert Godley later recorded that “after seeing it, we could not help laughing at our own anticipation of a shed on a bare beach with a fire at the door”, while Charlotte thought the house to be “…the best looking house we have yet seen in New Zealand”, and she particularly admired the “… kind of pantry” (Amodeo 2003: 117).

Charlotte Godley, 1877. Image: Wikipedia.

The house might have looked good, but the practicalities of living in it were trying, as Charlotte was to discover when the family returned to the house in December 1850: both dust and rain came in through the walls, depending on the weather. Charlotte records one sleepless night when the wind howled all night and the house creaked like a ship. She rose in the morning to find the inside of the house covered in dust, including all the furniture and all her dresses. The rain that seeped in through the poorly lined walls caused the drawing room wallpaper to come unstuck (Godley 1951: 170, 191). This anecdote’s a great one, because it tells us that (a) the house had wallpaper – in early 1850s Lyttelton! – and (b) that it had a drawing room. Historical records tell us that the house had six rooms (although it’s worth noting that Victorian room counts often didn’t include halls, pantries and/or similar service rooms), but don’t list what these were.

Lyttelton, with Immigrants’ Barracks and settlers’ houses, 1852? Frederick Aloysius Weld, 1823-1891. Alexander Turnbull Library, Reference number: B-139-004. The Godleys’ house is the building with three gables in the middle of the picture.

In spite of the “kind of pantry”, meat did not last well in the house, lasting on average two days before going off (Godley 1951: 155). This wasn’t really anything to do with this particular house, it was more about life in the 19th century… but it is relevant to this story. For John and Charlotte’s position in Canterbury meant that they entertained very regularly, hosting tea parties nearly every evening in December 1850 (Godley 1951: 153, 155, 161). And then there were the guests who stayed the night – or several nights, leading Charlotte to refer to John’s dressing room (yes, a dressing room! More on that in a moment), as “the spare room of Lyttelton” (Godley 1951: 172).

So, the dressing room, which seems fairly extraordinary to me in Lyttelton in the early 1850s. But John was an important man in the colony, and perhaps his status was such that a dressing room may have been required. I also wonder if the dressing room functioned as a study/office for John. When he got the chance to use it. Early in 1851, there was a plan to turn it into a dining room (Godley 1951: 153) – indicating both that the house didn’t already have one (perhaps guests ate in the kitchen or the drawing room?) and that the dressing room was of a decent size. Whether or not it ever became a dining room isn’t clear – there may not have been the opportunity, given how frequently it was used as a bedroom.

The dressing room wasn’t the only room to have been used as a bedroom – in August 1851 the bathroom was converted into a bedroom for a visiting Canterbury Association official (Godley 1951: 226). Perhaps John had finally put his foot down about the use of dressing room as a bedroom? The presence of a bathroom is also intriguing. Clearly the house didn’t have any running water, although a well was dug specially for it (Amodeo 2003: 116). The bathroom may have contained a bath or even a commode.

In terms of the other rooms in the house, Charlotte records the presence of a kitchen in the house, although the initial one must have been somewhat unsatisfactory, as Charlotte referred to a new kitchen in March 1851, complete with stove and “refractory chimney” (Godley 1951: 184). We know, too, that Charlotte and John had a bedroom in the house, as did young Arthur – the three seemed to alternate between sleeping up and downstairs. We know the Godleys had servants, and it’s possible that a servant may have lived in too. But perhaps the most interesting use of a room in the house was as the Lyttelton library, which started operation here in June 1851 (Burgess 2009: Appendix 4).

When it came time to do the archaeological work on the site, I really wasn’t sure what we’d find. Or, indeed, if we’d find anything related to the c.1850 building. But we did! Lots and lots of piles, and some pile holes: brick piles, timber piles and stone piles, specifically. The house sat on timber piles (identified as mātai and kōwhai) and its verandahs – on the north and west elevations – sat on stone piles. This is interesting, because it wasn’t long before houses in Christchurch and Lyttelton were supported by stone piles, stone being a much more readily available material than timber. The other intriguing feature found under the house was a mysterious brick pit…

Underneath the Godleys’ house. Image: G. Gedson.

We’ve no idea what this was used for, or even how old it was – it certainly predated the 1943 building constructed where the Godleys’ house had stood, but this feature was able to remain in situ and so we didn’t get to look at the bricks it was made from. One of the notable things about this feature was that it contained lots of animal bones, almost all of which was bird bone and all of which is likely to have been food waste. The bones were from at least two domestic ducks and at least one brown teal duck. The brown teal duck must pre-date the 1900s, as it gradually disappeared from the South Island prior to this date (Williams and Dumbell 1996). So, perhaps food from the Godleys’ table? There’s no way of knowing.

The mysterious brick pit, found at the rear of the house. Image: G. Gedson.

Amongst the other intriguing artefacts from under the house were several marbles, which were found scattered on the ground surface, and in some of the pile holes. Marbles aren’t uncommon on archaeological sites (see here for more information), but finding eight is. Half of these were lying on the surface under the 1943 building and the other half were in the piles holes. Realistically, given the nature of marbles – small round things designed to roll – these could have been deposited at any time from the house’s construction until the site was built on again following its demolition. So, sadly, we can’t say that young Arthur Godley was playing with these marbles, but nor can we entirely discount the possibility (although some of the types found date to the later part of the 19th century, so he definitely wasn’t playing with those ones).

Marbles! Image: J. Garland & L. Dawson.

We found a range of other artefacts at the site, too, most of which was the normal detritus of mid-late 19th century European life in Canterbury. Nothing, regrettably, that could be associated directly with the Godleys. But we only looked at part of the site, and it is possible that more remains outside the footprint of the area we excavated. And possibly the best outcome of this project is that the piles – and the mystery brick feature – have been preserved in situ for the future. And for me, the site provided a great opportunity to explore the lives of John and Charlotte Godley, leading me to Charlotte’s wonderful letters and to a wealth of information about life in Lyttelton at the beginning of the European settlement.

Katharine Watson & Kirsa Webb


Amodeo, C., 2003. Forgotten Forty-Niners: being an account of the men & women who paved the way in 1849 for the Canterbury Pilgrims in 1850. The Caxton Press, Christchurch.

Burgess, R., 2009. Lyttelton Township Historic Area. Registration report for a historic area (Volume 2). Unpublished report for the New Zealand Historic Places Pouhere Taonga.

Godley, C., 1951. Letters from Early New Zealand. Whitcombe & Tombs Ltd, Christchurch.

Williams, M. and Dumbell, G. 1996. Brown teal (pateke) Anas chlorotis recovery plan. Threatened Species Recovery Plan No 19. Department of Conservation, Wellington.

The Big House in a little town

The degree of civilisation in a society can be judged by entering its prisons

– Fyodor Dostoevsky

One of the challenges faced by any new colony is what to do with the non-conformists, renegades, and criminals. The ideal, of course, is that your new paradise will be carefully designed to have eliminated these undesirable elements. The reality, however, is far from the ideal. The first lock-up in the Canterbury (consisting of three blockhouses) was located in Akaroa, a significant distance away from the growing towns of Christchurch and Lyttelton (Gee 1975: 5). These blockhouses appear to have been used until John Godley arrived on the scene in April 1850 and was appointed as the resident magistrate of Lyttelton (Gee 1875: 7). With his appointment, the location of the lock-ups/gaols moved to the fledgling port-town instead. The earliest gaols in Lyttelton were improvised and, for some enterprising fellows, rather portable. One particularly slapstick story of a runaway gaol involves some opportunistic pranking by the future gaol warden, Edward Seagar:

One night the prisoners in the lock-up, a flimsy, A-frame construction, took up the floor boards, lifted the building and walked away with it. Seagar arranged ropes and stakes in such a way that the escapees unknowingly headed towards the police station further down the hill (Young 2014).

The landing of passengers from the Charlotte Jane, Randolph, Cressy, and Sir George Seymour in Lyttelton c. 1850. Plenty of open space for pranks. Image: Alexander Turnbull Library.

The landing of passengers from the Charlotte Jane, Randolph, Cressy, and Sir George Seymour in Lyttelton c. 1850. Plenty of open space for pranks. Image: Alexander Turnbull Library.

The first permanent gaol buildings in the settlement were constructed between 1851 and c.1857-1861 on Oxford Street, using both hired and prison labour (Gee 1975: 8, 10). Later buildings followed the design of B. W. Mountfort, who also designed the Sunnyside Lunatic Asylum (Heritage New Zealand 2016). The decision to construct a gaol in a small town like Lyttelton may seem odd to us today, but the reasoning was fairly straightforward. Lyttelton was the bigger town at the time and the new buildings replaced the earlier makeshift prisons near the contemporary police station and court (Gee 1975: 10).

The Lyttelton Gaol, date unknown. Image: Cyclopedia Company Limited 1903. A later image of the gaol c. 1900 can be viewed here.

The Lyttelton Gaol, date unknown. Image: Cyclopedia Company Limited 1903. A later image of the gaol c. 1900 can be viewed here.

Early conditions in this gaol, according to some commentators, had something of a Dickensian feel:

The early days were those of the cat [of nine tails whip] and the triangle, of the 70lb dragging irons, the days of scanty clothing, poor food, the days when the warder was king (Gee 1975: 2).

Others have argued that, in light of the standards at the time, the treatment of the prisoners was not quite as cruel as it may seem to us today (Gee 1975: 10). Conditions were hampered by one major issue which arose in this early period – the swelling gaol population. This population growth was exacerbated by the incarceration of debtors and the mentally ill. The housing of the mentally ill at the gaol was particularly concerning to many (Young 2014). The young townships of Lyttelton and Christchurch simply did not have the facilities to deal with these patients at the time. To their credit, it was intended that the patients be housed in the new Christchurch Hospital, until there was a furore in response to this plan (Gee 1975: 35). The population pressures eased with the construction of Sunnyside Asylum in 1863, and the opening of the prison in Addington in the 1870s (Gee 1975: 30, 87).

Sunnyside Lunatic Asylum. Image: Te Papa O.034082.

Sunnyside Lunatic Asylum. Image: Te Papa O.034082.

Part of the Addington Prison complex, c. 2005. Image: Wikimedia Commons. The prison is now a backpackers.

Part of the Addington Prison complex, c. 2005. Image: Wikimedia Commons. The prison is now a backpackers.

The position of the gaol within town life is quite interesting. As illustrated in the image above, the large Gothic style buildings were quite a dominating feature of the town. In addition to this, the prisoners were involved with a number of town works (discussed further below) and services which ensured a high public presence (Heritage New Zealand 2016). These services included a printing shop, a laundrette for the Lyttelton Hospital and Orphanage and the Immigration Department, and a baking contract for the orphanage (Gee 1975: 17). However, one comment from a resident regarding the communities’ view of the gaol (made after the demolition of the gaol in the 1920s) is particularly telling:

We never thought about the gaol.  We just knew it was there and that was it. But many people couldn’t have been pleased about it because there are few photographs of it and no paintings as far as I have found (C. Fletcher in Gee 1975: 87).

A rather macabre aspect of the prison, which feels particularly repugnant to us today, is that between 1868 and 1918 seven men convicted of murder were executed at the gaol. This was an aspect of the gaol that was a source of curiosity for some of the younger residents, but of dread for most. One resident stated: “In a little place like Lyttelton the knowledge of an impending execution used to hang like a pall over the whole town” (I. Gray in Gee 1975: 47). It is quite a stretch for me to imagine a community continuing with their daily lives in the anticipation of such an event. Executions appear to have been so entrenched in the town’s psyche that despite the fact that the bell did not toll for the last execution in 1918, many residents insist they remember it ringing (Gee 1975: 47).

A poem by Basil Dowling. The role of the hangman was a necessary part of the justice system, which carried a heavy stigma for the men who did the job. There are a number of cases where officers had to smuggle the hangman in to avoid the curiosity and/or anger of the general public.

A poem by Basil Dowling. The role of the hangman was a necessary part of the justice system, but carried a heavy stigma for the men who did the job. There are a number of cases where officers had to smuggle the hangman in on the eve of the execution to avoid the curiosity and/or anger of the general public.

The archaeological legacy of the prison and prisoners remain visible in many aspects of the town today. All that remains of the gaol itself are concrete retaining walls, a small block of cells, pedestrian pathways and concrete steps. These remains are an important archaeological site, particularly as they are demonstrative of some of the earliest use of concrete in New Zealand (Heritage New Zealand 2016).

The remaining cells and concrete walls of the prison. Image: A. Bulovic, 2013 Peeling Back History.

The remaining cells and concrete walls of the prison. Image: A. Bulovic, 2013 Peeling Back History.

However, we can also see the influence of the gaol on the Lyttelton settlement through other features of the town. Prisoners sentenced to hard labour were part of gangs put to work on public works, such as road formation and retaining wall construction. In particular, the red volcanic retaining walls constructed during this period have been described as a distinctive part of the townscape. Unfortunately, as with much of Lyttelton’s heritage, a number of these walls have been repaired or replaced after the damage from the earthquakes.

Earthquake damaged walls at the corner of Coleridge Terrace and Dublin Street. Image: M. Hickey, 2015.

Earthquake damaged walls at the corner of Coleridge Terrace and Dublin Street. Image: M. Hickey, 2015.

 The newly constructed concrete wall on Sumner Road, with partial re-facing using the volcanic stone from the demolished wall. The re-facing will occur on as many of the key retaining walls across the town, as funding allows. Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

The newly constructed concrete wall on Sumner Road, with partial re-facing using the volcanic stone from the demolished wall. The re-facing will occur on as many of the key retaining walls across the town as funding allows. Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

A collapsed wall at 61 St Davids Street. Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

A collapsed wall at 61 St Davids Street. Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

The same wall after deconstruction and reconstruction work (all completed by hand). Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

The same wall after deconstruction and reconstruction work (all completed by hand). Image: M. Hickey, 2016.

The port also benefited from convict labour in the form of reclamation construction and wharf building (Gee 1975: 17). Another notable site of works is the fortifications at Ripapa Island, which were constructed in the 1860s and 1870s by the Hard Labour Gang and were even used to house some prisoners (Gee 1975: 22). Prisoners housed on the island reportedly included members of the Parihaka resistance movement in Taranaki in 1880s (Donna R 2014). These men are remembered today during a service on the 5th of November each year and a memorial at Rapaki (Lyttelton Community House Trust 2013).

In many ways, the Lyttelton Gaol was a product of its time; the morality of Victorian Britain, the realities of a new colonial land and the challenges of a growing society. However, the legacy of the gaol should not be limited to a grim spectre of past principles. Prisoners made a considerable contribution to the development of the town through the construction of infrastructure. Despite the recent changes to the townscape, the influence of the gaol remains a visible part of Lyttelton’s heritage.

Megan Hickey


Gee, D. 1975. The Devil’s Own Brigade: A History of the Lyttelton Gaol 1860-1920. Wellington: Millwood Press Ltd.

“the marvellous antiquity…of our beloved ritual” – Past Master G. W. Speth, 1893.

Context is an important concept in archaeology. Everyday artefacts, often mundane and fragmented, can take on a powerful meaning due to an unusual placement or an association with other material of a different type or function. These circumstances will often nudge the archaeologists towards stories about the past that are easily overlooked in favour of the stronger, overarching narrative of a site’s archaeology. The excavation of Grubb cottage in Lyttelton in 2010 provided an opportunity to contemplate the broader meaning of two common artefacts recovered from unusual contexts. This incongruity, combined with a consideration of the broader context of the cottage’s history, informs an interpretation of the cottage’s occupants that extends beyond the daily domestic activities so often reflected in the archaeology of historical residences in New Zealand.

Grubb cottage is one of the oldest standing residential buildings in Christchurch. John Grubb, a ship’s carpenter from Scotland, was stranded in Wellington in 1847 when the ship on which he was employed was condemned due to leaks on a voyage between London and Melbourne (Cyclopedia 1903a). He made his way down to the newly established port of Lyttelton in search of work, and he liked it so much he decided to settle there and bring out his family from Scotland. His wife, Mary, and their three daughters arrived in 1850 on the Charlotte Jane, one of the “first four ships”.

John and Mary Grubb. Image: Cyclopedia 1903a.

John and Mary Grubb. Image: Cyclopedia 1903a.

With them they brought the building tools with which John established a thriving shipwright’s business at the port (Amodeo and Chapman 2003: 88). In 1851 John was the first to purchase a town section in Lyttelton after the balloted sections were allotted. On this section in London Street he built a simple timber cottage. The Grubb family grew as John’s business prospered and John himself became a figure of importance in the local community. He served on the borough council, as did his son James who became the Mayor of Lyttelton in 1902. When John died in 1898 (LINZ c.1860: 5W237), James inherited the cottage, which had been enlarged by a significant addition to the south elevation (Cyclopedia 1903b). The cottage remained in the Grubb family for over a century until it was sold in 1961 (HMS 2008: 8).

James Grubb. Image: Cyclopedia 1903b.

James Grubb. Image: Cyclopedia 1903b.

The archaeological excavation of Grubb cottage highlighted two themes: the deposition of the material debris of a century’s worth of occupation by the Grubb family, and changes made to the cottage and surrounding landscape as the Grubb family grew in number and community prominence. However, within these overarching narratives two small artefacts stood out due to their unusual context. During the excavation of new pile holes two timbers were uncovered, one under the other, running north-south along the line of the east elevation of the original cottage. Two coins were found lying on these timbers, later identified as a British bronze halfpence and a bronze penny (Clayton 2013). Unfortunately much of the detail on these coins was corroded but the material, dimensions and remaining detail were enough to date their issue to 1860-1890 and 1874 respectively.

The bronze penny (left) and half-penny (right) recovered from Grubb cottage.

The bronze penny (left) and half-penny (right) recovered from Grubb cottage.

Archaeologists often find coins during excavations and these can be useful for dating the context in which they were found. However, these coins were under the original cottage, which was built in the early 1850s and therefore predated the coins’ issue.  It is here that the physical context in which the coins were found provided a possible explanation for the dating discrepancy. The coins appeared to have been deliberately placed – what if their placement had a ritual purpose, rather than being the result of careless discard? It is likely that the east elevation of the original cottage was the location of the formal entrance until the addition, which included a new front door, was made to the south elevation at an unknown date. The date of the coins precludes any association with the opening of the original cottage entrance, but was it possible that they were used to ceremonially close that entrance before the opening of another? In which case, the coins would date the construction of the southern addition to sometime after 1874.

This possibility is evocative of common ceremonies such as the laying of time capsules, a custom that has been identified at several Christchurch buildings including an early 20th century Masonic lodge. Freemasons held elaborate ceremonies to lay the foundation stones of Masonic buildings, and these almost always included the laying of a time capsule containing a newspaper and coins (Speth 1893). Mention of Freemasonry often conjures notions of conspiracy theories and Dan Brown books, but ‘the brotherhood’ was a real and powerful influence in New Zealand’s male-dominated colonial society. The first lodge in New Zealand opened in Wellington in 1842 and by 1890 New Zealand boasted 151 lodges (Phillips 2012).Members included important society and political leaders, such as Richard Seddon, New Zealand premier and the Most Worshipful Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge of New Zealand.

Now this is where the broader context of the archaeology of Grubb cottage affects the meaning of those two little coins found in the ground – both John Grubb and his son James were Freemasons. Not only were they Freemasons, but they were leaders of the Masonic community in Lyttelton for almost 40 years. Together with several others they succeeded in founding the Canterbury Kilwinning lodge in 1875 (Press 3/12/1875; 21/2/1898). This was the second Masonic lodge in Lyttelton, the first being the Lodge of Unanimity, which was established in 1851 (Cyclopedia 1903c). Three years later John Grubb was elected lodge treasurer while James was elected a senior warden (Press 6/12/1878). The Kilwinning Lodge commissioned the construction of a hall on Canterbury Street, for which James Grubb as Worshipful Master laid the foundation stone in a ceremony in 1881 (Press 30/5/1881). John Grubb remained treasurer of the Kilwinning lodge for 18 years, resigning shortly before his death in 1898 (Press 3/12/1896).

So, if the placement of the coins was related to change in the cottage structure, it is possible that the Grubb cottage coins had a ritual significance that echoed the traditions of Freemasonry. But why were coins and newspapers used in such ceremonies? The reason seems obvious – to provide temporal information concerning the construction of the building for posterity in case of the building’s destruction. However, one would expect that the future destruction of the building was not a desirable result. Could there be an underlying explanation for these ritual actions?

George Speth, a prominent English Mason, related components of Masonic tradition to the folklore of construction. After all, a mason is a builder, and the Freemasons traced their origins to the cathedral builders of medieval Europe, and building tools were treasured symbols of the society (Newton 1921: 97-124). Speth associated common builders’ rites with the ancient belief that in order to ensure the permanence and stability of a structure it must be imbued with a soul (Speth 1893: 3). He suggested that originally this was undertaken by human sacrifice. Legends from around the world connect death to construction and Speth cited instances where human bones have been uncovered in the foundations of ancient buildings (Speth 1893: 4-22). He maintained that over time such sacrifice became symbolic in nature, with the use of animals and animal products, images and effigies. It is this symbolic form of sacrifice that Speth related to the custom of including coins in foundation ceremonies – ”…coins bearing the effigy, impressed upon the noblest of metals, the pure red gold of the one person to whom we are all most loyal, and whom we all most love, our Gracious Queen…” (Speth 1893: 22) – even if the conscious intention of imbuing the structure with a protective spirit had been shed over time.

A stained glass window depicting Saint Columba in Iona Abbey, Scotland.

A stained glass window depicting Saint Columba in Iona Abbey, Scotland. Legend has it that Columba buried alive his companion, Odran, to ensure the lasting stability of his chapel there. Image: Wikipedia 2008.

John Grubb was a builder by trade and a Freemason of high standing in Lyttelton. It is entirely likely that he was aware of the traditions and rites associated with construction. It is even possible that, on the closing of the old entrance to his cottage, he buried two coins to ceremonially mark the occasion. He didn’t necessarily do this while fully conscious of all the connotations of this little ritual. Perhaps it was done out of deference to Masonic practice, or perhaps it was done out of habit – an old superstition he picked up during his time in the building trade in Scotland. Whatever his motivation, this interpretation of past events was only made possible through consideration of two mundane objects within their immediate and broader context.

Rosie Geary Nichol


Amodeo, C. and Chapman, R., 2003. The Forgotten Forty-Niners: being an account of the men and women who paved the way in 1849 for the Canterbury pilgrims in 1850. Christchurch: Caxton Press.

Clayton, T., 2013. Coins of England and Great Britain. [online] Available at: http://www.coins-of-the-uk.co.uk/coins.html.

Cyclopedia of New Zealand, 1903a. Professional, Commercial and Industrial: Mr. John Grubb. [online] Available at: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz//tm/scholarly/tei-Cyc03Cycl-t1-body1-d3-d60-d2.html.

Cyclopedia of New Zealand, 1903b. Lyttelton: His Worship the Mayor, Mr. James Grubb, J.P. [online] Available at: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz//tm/scholarly/tei-Cyc03Cycl-t1-body1-d3-d60-d1.html.

Cyclopedia of New Zealand, 1903c. Orders and Friendly Societies: Masonic: New Zealand Constitution: Unanimity Lodge. [online] Available at: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz//tm/scholarly/tei-Cyc03Cycl-t1-body1-d3-d22-d3.html.

Heritage Management Services (HMS), 2008. Grubb Cottage Conservation Report. Unpublished report.

Land Information New Zealand (LINZ), c.1860. Probate Index – 5W237. Archives New Zealand, Christchurch Office.

Newton, J. F., 1921. A Story and Study of Masonry. [online] Available at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19049/19049-h/19049-h.htm#CHAPTER_IB.

Philips, J., 2012. ‘Men’s clubs – Masons’. [online] Available at: http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/mens-clubs/page-4.

Press. [online] Available at: http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Speth, G. W., 1893. ‘Builders’ Rites and Ceremonies: Two Lectures on the Folk-Lore of Masonry. Delivered by G. W. Speth to the Members of the Church Institute, Margate, On the 30th October and 13th November, 1893. [online]. Available at: http://www.slv.vic.gov.au/.