Herbert Street Memories by Oliver Twist continued. On entering the town of Allora today on the road from Toowoomba, I am told that a petrol depot occupies the left hand corner of Herbert Street, which fully emphasises the march of time, for, in the early days, that was a real old-time corner. Right out in the open on the unfenced lot stood the village blacksmith's shop. True, there was no spreading chestnut tree, but there the village smithy stood. That was the picture on that corner in the year 1905- a great gloomy shed, with the walls and roof of sheets of bark, a huge grimy bellows and a roaring forge, with horse-shoes and iron tyres strewn about, with horses being shod and the air filled with the acrid smell of singeing hoofs and the smith himself in a leather apron deep in the gloom. No wonder that we stood at the open door and gazed and gazed; no wonder that the picture stays imprinted on one's memory for ever. For gone are the days of the village blacksmith and all his works. Right next door there stood another activity that has passed into the limbo of forgotten things- the district "Saddler's Shop,"  ruled over by none other than honest Joe Burge, the saddler. Joe himself has long since passed to his reward and I cannot imagine that his shop still stands, but, in his day, both the shop and his home behind it were as much in character as Joe Burge himself- and just as much a part of a world that we have left behind us. Passing under a sign that was faded and worn, even in 1905, one entered the shop down a flight of steps, across a narrow verandah and into the low, wide structure that was the saddler's workshop. And what a world of other days was there. All around were saddles and bridles, girths and surcingles, horse-collars and hames, cruppers and traces, breechings and belly-bands, saddle cloths and plough reins, stirrups, whips, spurs and leggings- articles the very names of which are now almost forgotten but which were then the everyday needs of the horse age. And pervading the air was the strong pungent smell of leather and harness, of soft-soap and beeswax-and among it all was Joe Burge himself with wax-thread and awl in hand, busy stitching a horse collar and whistling the latest tune he had heard. Pressing on up the street next is the Commercial Hotel or, as we know it in 1905, "Kilmisters." It was a typical better class hotel of the times, but offering little of the comforts that one expects of such hostelries today. I recall it best, not for its house comforts, but on account of its great spacious backyard with its row of horse stables along two sides. The place was a sea of sticky black mud in wet weather, but it was a popular parking area for the springcarts and buggies of local families coming into town for the day. In the case of our family, I recall that we used two places in town for parking the springcart- either Kilmister's backyard or the rear of the Methodist Church. Crossing Drayton Street from the Commercial we come to the Royal Hotel on the other corner. I recall a comfortable-looking weatherboard house, with a couple of plane trees in the front-possibly they still stand and add a little greenery to the corner. But while speaking of the hotels in Allora--or elsewhere for that matter in 1905--one cannot but wonder what sort of "noggin" one received over the bar in those days. For this was long before there was any thought of refrigeration and long before there was even a block of ice in a town like Allora. One recalls the old "Coolgardie Safe"-a box like contraption with walls of hessian that had to be kept constantly wet to generate evaporation and to give some degree of coolness to the contents. These were common in many homes, but in a hotel bar, conditions must have been pretty grim indeed. Rows of bottles on a shelf and a cask in the corner, usually covered with a wet sack, was the general rule of things and customers needed a stout heart and a long thirst to face up to a "flowering bowl" that had a temperature somewhere over the 90's. So leaving the porttals of the Royal Hotel (and it's modern refrigeration today we proceed along the block and, where today stands a public hall and a bank, we come to the school headmaster's house. This was a rambling old place, with wide verandahs and a vast untidy garden. For the headmaster of the day, with all of his many virtues, was no gardener, and why should he be, when he had half a hundred young healthy urchins in the school who, for punishment, could be put to work with spade and hoe? Many a pupil can recall, I am sure, the hot weary hours he spent among the weeds and the thistles of the old school garden, while the old master constantly spurred him on to greater efforts. Next of course was the old school itself, rambling, shingle-roofed and gloomy, its rooms furnished with easels and black-boards, hard forms and cramped desks, and also with a number of quaint vertical cast-iron heating stoves. These were intended to engender some degree of warmth in the winter, but, from my memory, all that they did was to fill the room with smoke and with little comfort for the shivering urchins who huddled around them. One other class-room feature that I well remember was an enormous "Good Manners" chart on the wall, on which was set out instructions to the young as to how to behave in company. It was a quaint relic of the times and I have never seen anything like it since. What effect it had on the youngsters who had to learn to recite it I do not know, but I think a few copies of it spread around the country today might not do any harm. But before we leave the school building, who is that we see at the front gate on this morning in 1905? It is none other than Charlie Braxton, a cheerful young fellow who was one of the pupil teachers of the day. He and his family were well known residents of the town and in later years he was destined to wander far afield from his early haunts. He joined the civil service and in later years was Stipendary Magistrate at both Thursday Island and Mackay. More recently I met him in Brisbane and for the past few years, now well over 80 years of age, he has lived in retirement at Scarborough where he is always glad to welcome old Allora friends. Pressing on up the street we next come to the spot where today, I am told, stand the offices of Deacon & C0., stock and station agents, but I seem to connect this locality with the firm of Donovan & Son in the old days, who had their office just about here. In the same line of business we must of course recall the firm of H.W. Stay & Sons and this mention of these three firms discloses the rather remarkable fact that, despite all the changes in the town in the past 60 years, these three very active concerns of today were already on the scene and were conducting very live businesses in the earliest days of the century. It speaks well for each of them and for the prosperity of the district that all three have continued to progress over this lengthy period. How well we recall the original Mr. Paddy Donovan, a genial giant of a man, and his son Frank, who followed him and who gave promise of being "a chip off the old block" as he doubtless turned out to be. Two comely daughters there were too. They later moved out to Longreach, where they appear to have settled into the Western life. Mr. Willie Deacon, the founder of the firm that still carries on, was one of the town's most active and well-liked citizens. He was our Parliamentary representative for many years and in this capacity gave excellent service to the community.  And Mr. Harry Stay, who founded the present firm, was a man with a diversity of interests in the old days, including among his activities that of the local undertaker. In my early days deaths, especially among infants and youngsters, appear to have occurred with amazing frequency--perhaps not to be wondered at under the conditions of the times--and the visits of Mr. Harry Stay are rememberd as being a regular occurrence. But he went about his business always with sympathy and respect, which earned him the high regard in which he was held. Thus friends we come to the final chapter of our brief sojourn along Herbert Street, Allora in 1905, I hope you enjoyed the memories as I certainly enjoyed imparting them to you. Keep safe.