Mr. Anstey entered heartily upon his work. Of a good family at home, a gentleman in bearing and character, he brought to his duties an uncompromising fidelity, a stern sense of justice, an unremitting energy, an acute sagacity, and much practical wisdom. In devotion to duty, he reminds one of an ancient Spartan. An anecdote is recorded of him that suggests the parting word of the Spartan mother—"Return a victor, or upon your shield." When his son, then out with the Line after the Blacks, suffering from the hardships of the Bush in an inclement season, wished to return home, Mr. Anstey forwarded this decided reply: "Stay till all is lawfully dismissed. If you return before, the house will be closed against you." He was of the true Wellington stamp, appreciating duty rather than glory.
His children were energetic and intelligent like himself. One son became an influential legislator in South Australia. Another (Chisholm Anstey) was well known as a prominent member of the British House of Commons.
His son George distinguished himself in the Black War. On the 27th of July, 1830, some Natives were heard prowling about the farm in the night. Heading a small number of servants, the lad, being then but sixteen, dashed after the enemy. Fortunately for the pursuers, the ground was covered with snow, and the track could readily be followed in the darkness. The tribe was gained, a charge was made, four were captured, and the rest fled in terror. Not a shot was fired. Among the spoils were fourteen dogs, fifteen blankets, and five spears. The colony rang with acclamations at the daring deed, and the courage of many a drooping Bush tracker revived. The Governor honoured the brave boy with a Gazette notice, and the gift of five hundred acres of land.
The sequel of the incident is soon told. Three of the four were of the weaker sex. When they were being led to Hobart Town by the constables, the man shammed illness in the wattle-perfumed valley of Bagdad. The constables were compelled to place the agonized fellow in a wheelbarrow, and trundle him to a hut for the night. Leaving him there to groan in peace, the guardians indulged in some sleep, being perfectly assured of the safety of the prisoner. The dark and subtle captive climbed the chimney in the silence of night, and regained his forest mates.
