Contents
The Audit Office,
Wellington, N.Z., 8th April, 1929.
I hereby certify that, after investigation of the publisher's lists and other records, the average circulation of the New Zealand Railways Magazine for the 12 months ended May, 1928, is in excess of 20,000 copies per month during the whole of that period and that, during the months of February and March, 1929, the circulation has increased to over 22,500 copies.
Controller and Auditor-General.
“The breezy—ruffled lake….”
—James Thomson.
A scene on beautiful Lake Hanlon, near Karamea, Nelson Province, New Zealand.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
Published by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
“For Better Service”
Vol. 4. No. 3.
Wellington,
New Zealand
July1, 1929
Disturbances
The time-keeping of the heavenly bodies must be the envy of every transport organisation. In his “Yankee at the Court of King Arthur,” Mark Twain tells how the hero saved his neck by remembering the exact time at which an eclipse of the sun was due to occur, and giving orders accordingly.
Not many would care to stake their lives upon the exact arrival of any train, steamer, service car, bus or airship, though careful scheduling and precise working allows a large margin of correct timing in most of these means of movement.
But earthly affairs are subject to so many unpredictable happenings that approximate accuracy is the utmost that can be hoped for even in those things that seem most amenable to systematic prearrangement. Even in factories, where supplies of material are constant and the piece-work principle has been applied to the limit on standardised jobs, variation in output cannot be wholly prevented.
The causes of checks to regularity in the realm of transport are numerous, and railroading has its fair share. This last month has seen, in addition to an unusually heavy budget of disturbances to traffic through floods, slips, and break-downs, the most serious earthquake that modern New Zealand has experienced. Geological studies of rock formation in most parts of our country indicate that in by-gone times the land was the plaything of subterranean forces. The strange contortions of strata found in most parts of the Islands have added to the engineering difficulties of railway building and maintenance. But settled conditions over a long span of years seemed to give assurance that whatever disturbances occurred above the surface, the earth was firm. Even that assurance, however, was shaken by these recent serious earthquake shocks in the north-western sector of the South Island.
The railway habit of keeping the services going, no matter what happens, is well established. Periods of coal shortage, war, and flood have caused curtailment, but never cessation. Continuity and reliability of service is the aim towards which all our energies are directed. And this habit has served the country well on the present occasion. From the Nelson and Westland provinces have come unanimous tributes both to the excellent railway arrangements made to assist through the time of trouble, and also to the steadfastness of the staff in attending to their jobs though the earth rocked.
An apt story upon the point is told by the general secretary of one of our leading staff organisations. He had written expressing regret and sympathy to one of the West Coast Branches of his Society, and his letter crossed in the mail a letter from the same Branch. He expected this to contain a tale of earthquake troubles, but on opening it found no reference to the upheaval at all—merely the usual catalogue of local railway matters about which societies of the kind generally correspond.
The only sensible course is to let disturbances of any sort interfere as little as possible with the regular routine of work. Viewed in that way, and excepting when of a scale to cause calamity, they are rather welcome than otherwise, for they give occasion for the exercise of initiative, and for that triumphing over difficulties which is the chief source of individual development, as it is the main pleasure of life.
Railways aid Earthquake Suffers
The Minister of Railways (the Hon. W. B. Taverner) made immediate arrangements for prompt assistance by the Department in connection with the recent earthquake. Refugees were conveyed free out of the disturbed area, special trains were run where necessary, free meals were provided at railway refreshment rooms, and free conveyance given to consignments of clothing, etc., for earthquake relief work sent from other parts of New Zealand. Many grateful acknowledgments for the thoroughness of the measures taken have been received.
The British Trade Commissioner for New Zealand (Mr. W. D. Lambie) certainly opened the eyes of New Zealanders to the activities of the Empire Marketing Board by his recent exhibition and lectures in the Wellington Art Gallery.
Speaking of the posters and advertising matter artistically displayed upon walls and stands, Mr. Lambie said the idea behind the movement was to intensify the feeling of Empire unity and arouse interest in the subject of inter-Imperial trade relations in all parts of the Empire.
All towns and villages with a population of over 10,000, in Great Britain, have been postered with special maps of the Empire to concentrate interest and enthusiasm in regard to the lands won by the great pioneering soldiers, sailors, travellers and statesmen of the Empire. This is being supported by special articles in the Press of the Motherland, and by a campaign in the schools there to teach boys and girls the part the Dominions are playing in Empire development.
Whenever a manufacturing plant at Home receives an order from New Zealand special posters are placed through the works advising the workers to reciprocate by buying New Zealand products. Another way by which the sales of overseas products are stimulated is by broad-casting particulars of what Empire-grown food-stuffs are in season. “Empire” recipes and menu cards are prepared for the same purpose; and Mr. Lambie was able to give particulars of an “Empire” Christmas pudding, the recipe for which was prepared by the King's own chef. The effect of these activities on business has doubtless been a principal means of dispelling trade depression at Home, and has had healthy reactions in this country.
In a letter to the General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, the secretary of the Wellington Chamber of Commerce, Mr. H. Snowdon Fairchild, refers to the recent visit of members of the Chamber to the Department's new workshops in the Hutt Valley, as follows:—
Many members of the Wellington Chamber of Commerce availed themselves of the kind invitation to visit, on 19th June, the Railway Workshops at Hutt; and at the meeting of the Council last evening expression was given to the appreciation of those participating, and I was directed to convey to you the thanks of the Council and members for the courtesies extended.
The tour of inspection proved of exceptional interest, and the scope and magnitude covered in the operations of these workshops was most impressive, being thorough testimony to the efforts of your Department to cope with the transport problems of the Dominion.
General Manager's Message
The latest figures in regard to our traffic show that, despite difficulties arising chiefly from adverse weather conditions, railway business has remained buoyant, the operating revenue for the current financial year to the 25th May showing an improvement of £9,561 over that of last year.
We appear to be gaining the confidence of travellers still further through the comfort in travel we are able to provide, compared with other means of transport, during the winter months. The recent extension of steam-heating to cars on additional train services has had a definite effect in making the services more attractive. Special passenger traffic, helpful to revenue and of definite service to the community, has been secured from the various Farmers' Excursions run between districts in the North and South Islands. I feel sure the result of information gained by the hundreds of farmers making these excursions will have definite favourable reactions in the returns secured from the land, and we hope to share in the benefits obtained through increased freight traffic in both primary and secondary products.
There are numerous improvements now in train for supplying better service to the users of the Railways. Amongst these, a comprehensive programme is now proceeding for the replacement of the present seating accommodation in second class carriages by a better type of seat. The interiors of cars are also receiving attention to make their appearance better. The quality of service which the Department is able to provide is, of course, limited by financial considerations. A middle course must be struck between what could be supplied were the relation between revenue and expenditure of no moment, and the maintenance of a margin no greater than is necessary to prevent defections of traffic through a standard being maintained insufficiently high to hold popular patronage. We want the public to feel always that the service the Department provides is invariably the best that can be secured at the price. The whole of our organisation is planned out with this end in view. The scale of our services is such that there is always a margin of transport power available to handle additional traffic, and as the public more and more use our services, so will we be able to give better value for the fares and freights received.
While absent in Australia attending the Australian and New Zealand Railways Conference, I much regretted to learn of the earthquakes which had taken place in the Dominion and which had caused serious damage on the West Coast of the South Island.
We, as a Department, extend our deepest sympathy to those who have been, in some cases, deprived of their homes by the very untoward circumstances, and we are pleased to see the very generous response the public of New Zealand is making in connection with relief measures.
So far as our service is concerned, while we, of course, suffered heavily, we are glad to know that the damage to the railway has not been so extensive as might have been expected from the nature and magnitude of the disturbances.
I wish to express my very warm appreciation of the manner in which all concerned struck to their tasks in the affected area. They are to be commended on the promptitude with which our services were restored.
General Manager
The Way We Go
Leo Fanning
Of course the way we go is not always the way we should like to go, nor the way that mother and auntie predicted when we were infant prodigies. But, perhaps, after all, we have more joy and fun and real life in the way that we are going than if we had become the statesmen, King's counsellors, bishops or Charlie Chaplins of our own or other people's hopes in the dim long ago.
“The average man is an average ass, an average blockhead,” sneers the cynic falsely. Yet it is true that the average man is regarded by many reformers and uplifters as a creature with less intelligence than a rabbit. If he listens to the lectures (which he does not), or reads the reports (which he does not), the average man will learn that he does not know what to eat, nor how or when to eat it; he does not know how to breathe, walk, sit down, or stand up; he is apathetic about local and general government and Imperial affairs, and altogether is sadly in need of incessant attention from innumerable societies and leagues for the improvement of the human race.
* * *
What surprises come from many of the persons who were regarded as average, or even below average, at school! Many of the tortoises have turned into hares that do not sleep, but bound along the ways and byways of success and money. The ability which was supposed to be absent was merely dormant—waiting to become rampant or rampageous.
* * *
The average boy at school may make some unholy hashes of lists of kings and queens and their offspring, rivers, lakes, capes, and counties, but when he becomes the average man he has a marvellous memory for the names and pedigrees of horses and their performances under various weights on wet and dry courses. He puts as much ability into this memorising as would give him a working knowledge of ancient Greek or an unworkable knowledge of modern psychology.
* * *
Many young folk, when they first become keenly conscious of currents of thought about men and affairs, are apt to imagine that the flow is altogether new and wonderfully “live”—powerful enough to give new turns to the world's wheels. They go through a period of “not-understoodness”—go into the garden and eat a few worms, and have some tantrums. They seek their kind, and have arguments and debates and demonstrations in a frenzy of impulsive energy—a great theoretical righting of wrongs and the total abolition of injustice. They let off plenty of steam, but it is about as ineffective as the spurts from a boiling kettle. A young man in that mood is like a donkey-engine at a loose end, with more donkey than engine in the outfit.
* * *
The traditional negative obstructive state of age—the kind of age which runs to beefiness of brain and a drying up of the vital juices—is notable throughout the world in large establishments, public or private, for big organisations tend to be very cautious and conservative. Beginning his career in one of these folds, a young man may be overflowing with initiative and simply buzzing with progressive thoughts and impulses, which are an affront to his seniors. They throw cold water upon him, and beset his path with entanglements, and club him occasionally until he gets into the mood to let time and tide take their course, carrying him in his turn to the top, from which he will be able to repeat history for the beginners far below. But in these cases it is not so much the age of the individual as the age of the institution which makes things difficult for the young man.
* * *
A cynic has alleged that women are more inclined to be snobbish than men, but he did not prove his case. Probably that splurge of assertion was based on woman's keener interest than a man's in keeping up appearances, but that is feminine instinct, no more connected with snobbery than it is with savagery, although it call easily slide into snobbery. If a modern
* * *
How much of the feline is inseparable from the feminine? A circus magnate once said that women had proved remarkably successful as trainers of animals, particularly those of feline species, such as lions, tigers and leopards—which are all big cats. The circus person was not affecting to be cynical; he was not a hen-pecked husband, nor a widower; he was just a simple philosopher. Truly, man liketh not the catty woman, but he is pleased by a little kittenishness—but where there is much kitten there must be some cat. As long as the claw is kept within the velvet paw things are all right.
* * *
A proverb which alleges that “all things come to him who waits” has two words missing—“and works.” The things which come to him who waits, without working, are the common and the uncommon cold, very large doses or douches of hope deferred, and the order of the boot and the sack. With that proverb you have to take about a dozen others, of which one is: “Patience and perseverance conquer all things,” or in the modern vernacular: “Persistence gets there,” or “Hustle does it.”
Inter-Island Farmers' Tours.
The South Island Farmers' Party which recently toured the North Island, photographed on the station platform at Paekakariki, Wellington Province.
Books and Reading.
Were I to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me during life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss, and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. Give a man this taste and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making him a happy man; unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You place him in contact with the best society in every period of history—with the wisest, the wittiest, the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages.
—Sir J. Herschel.
A Popular Innovation
When interviewed in Wellington after the conclusion of his tour of the North Island with the Canterbury and West Coast farmers, Mr. C. MacIntosh (West Eyreton) stated that the train arrangements throughout were excellent, and the courtesy of all railway officials with whom they came in contact was a very pleasant feature of the trip. He considered the combining of the various tickets in book form was a splendid idea, not only avoiding the inconvenience of paying from point to point, but also providing a forecast of the different trips from day to day.
Goods Office Staff, Invercargill, 1882.
Messrs. J. McGregor, S. W. Conyers, J. C. McIntyre, A. Arthur, and G. Finn.
The accommodation arrangements at the various stopping places worked out splendidly and sight-seeing tours were mapped out to give the excursionists every facility for inspecting the districts visited.
Their hosts in the different centres visited did all possible to feature the progress of their districts and what they could produce, and in various other ways, from a farming point of view, made the trip both instructive and enjoyable. These tours, said Mr. MacIntosh, enabled the farmer to take an enjoyable holiday and at the same time see the results of top dressing and other forms of scientific farming in the North Island. They would, as a result of their visit, go back South encouraged still further to persevere in this important branch of farming industry. The visitors were fortunate in being able to visit the big Winter Show at Hamilton with its splendid dairy exhibit. He also considered the displays of roots at the Show hard to beat anywhere in the Dominion. Mr. Wellsted, Business Agent in the Auckland District, did all possible to make their visit to the North an enjoyable one, while Mr. Pawson, the Canterbury Business Agent, who personally conducted the tour throughout, gave invaluable service and was regarded as the “Father” of the party.
Mr. A. McNeil, Business Agent for the Wellington District, also gave valuable assistance.
Mr. W. Fisher, of Grey Valley, West Coast, referred in eulogistic terms to the general arrangements of the tour. He also made reference to the courtesy extended by the Railway staff throughout the trip, mentioning as one instance that a portion of the party having remained behind at Rotorua, the Stationmasters at Rotorua and Frankton Junction made such splendid arrangements that they were able to rejoin their confreres in Auckland only about two hours after the arrival of the Farmers' Train in that city. He considered that, as the opening of the Otira Tunnel cemented the friendship between the West Coast and Canterbury, so these tours would create similar friendship and understanding between the farmers of each Island. As a West Coaster he looked forward to the time when farmers would be able to make a trip round the north of the South Island by rail.
The ladies, although finding the tour strenuous at times, enjoyed every minute of the trip.
During the course of the tour Mrs. A. Carpenter, on behalf of the ladies, presented Mrs. Pawson with a splendid chiming clock in appreciation of the many kindnesses extended throughout the tour. Mr. C. MacIntosh, in a few well chosen words, presented Mr. Pawson with a pipe and Mr. Fisher similarly presented Mr. McNeil with a silver cigarette case as a token of their appreciation.
)Ken Alexander .
Dear reader, you will agree with me that thingamy's invention of to-day is nothing more than your idea of yesterday, tailored in puffs and pants and aided and abetted by brass-studded racketty-coos, super-serrated hurdey-gurdeys, and demi-semi-quivers. Do not protest that at some time or another in your darkest moments you have not thrown a mental conception of the gabblephone, the saxamoan, the I-scream cone, fireless illumination, henless incubation, footless perambulation, wireless commotion, the vacuum screamer, the slayer piano, the ukedilly, the scareoplane, and the tripewriter—in fact the whole box of wheezing ironmongery that sits on our chests by day and haunts us by night.
It is greatly to your credit, however, that you refrained from giving material manifestation to your mechanical morbidities. Not so the inventors; they are of baser clay—almost mud, in fact. They have no bowels of compassion—only valves of compression. They pursue us with maddened mechanisms, while they themselves are merely hanging by their finger-nails to the tails of their own inventions. They have tuned us up until we are ever two jumps ahead of ourselves, and have as much chance of catching up as the can on the dog's tail.
The inventor has annihilated space and time, and peace of mind, and has dealt Humanity a stunning blow on the dulce domum, or bump of serenity.
“Hurry!” yelps the modern mile-murderer. “Step on it,” squeals his wife. “Give her the gravy,” shriek his young Robots in chorus, and they all rush hither at desperate speed, and when they get there they all rush back again. Whither, dear reader, and why the slither. It is vain to ask the inventor. He is—like house-maid's neck, Mussolini, and Monday—a necessary weevil in the dog biscuit of existence, but also he is a mere insentient section of perverted protoplasm who suffers from a dumbell in the carillon, an air pocket in the mental acoustics, a marcelle in the cerebral pastry, squeaks and rattles under the bonnet, woolly aphis in the chamber of horrors, and water-bubbles in the bowser.
He considers Ma Nature an inadequate and decadent dame, who should be relegated to the wax-works, and whose achievements are only fit to exhibit in Class B, of the Amateur Section. And yet (hist!), while he is directing his full broadside of intellectual “minnies” on the problem of evolving an asbestos moth, by crossing fireblight with electric-light bulbs, she is reproducing him, “holus bolus” and “in purus naturalis,” complete with hooter, howler, hot-air, and seamless body, and with the latest innovations in the department of internal affairs.
While the inventor plans to hover motionless, thousands of feet above the earth, the old lady quickly plants him six feet beneath it.
Who is the riper fruit, think you? Mrs. B. Nificient Nature, or her unnatural son, Robert the Robot?
But we must, in fairness to the inventor, admit that out of the riot of whirling wheels, there have arisen inventions which have proved a joy and a
“Hanging by their finger-nails to the tails of their own inventions.
Verily, the sausage is a blessing in disguise; there are those who submit that the disguise is too complete, and others who say that it is too thin, but let us leave the verdict to experts like Edgar Wallace.
Suffice it to say that the humble sausage could aptly be described as the common bond of empires, and as such, should be utilised as the coat of arms of the League of Nations—say, a sausage quiescent on a field of dog-daisies, bearing the device “pro bono publico,” meaning of course, “we pick no bones in public.”
But ignoring any further claims of the predigested perennial, what think you, is really and truly the greatest invention of all time. Yes, reader, your mental phosphoresence does you credit—the answer is in the affirmative; in other words it is “the wheel,” described by Dan Webster, in his famous Welter of Words, as “a circular frame turning on its axis; an instrument for spinning and for torture,” which serves to prove that conditions have altered not at all since the days of Dan.
In some histories of the whirled you will find that the invention of the wheel is ascribed to China, which, if true, accounts for the record number of revolutions to the square mile in the land of the drag-on. On the other hand, Ima- Bit-Dizzy the Hottentot historian asserts that the wheel was first used by the ancient circle of Rotarians for circularising and rounding up their members who failed to act on the square. But whoever it was that started the wheel whirling he has more on his conscience than his Borsalino. Lucky for him that his patent rights have long since expired. But wheels, like everything else in this vale of gears, can be used for weal or woe.
For instance, the term “hansom is as hansom does,” is no mere mental mirage to one who has
“Some submit that the disguise is too complete, others that it is too thin.”
I once could claim title to a luxurious uncle who smoked cigars and was an inveterate hansom-hound. He used to roll everywhere like a substantially upholstered caliph in wheeled hoodah. Frequently he invited me to “hop in m' lad,” just as if I were one of the boys of the old brigade, Oh, the palpitation produced by the reek of musty leather, the mystery of the doors which closed without a suggestion of human agency, the pleasantly horrifying spectacle of the unwinking bloodshot eye which appeared at the peep-hole in the roof like the green eye of the gloating glimp. There was romance, mystery, intimacy, serenity, in that ancient accretion of perished leather and wormy wood, and you felt that all was well, for the captain was up aloft. You had no need to brush the blur of lamposts and fences out of your eyes: you had leisure to enjoy the envy of the humble pedestrian and to splash him well and truly with your mud.
“Hansom is as Hansom does.”
Equal to my affection for the hansom is my admiration and respect for the railway engine. She is truly a lady of the old school, who nevertheless has kept up with the times in important essentials. She is eminently respectable, safe, sound, and sympathetic. She realises that she springs from aristocratic rolling-stock. No glad rags or ribald ravings for her. She dresses in black with quiet dignity. She moves out of the railway station with a discreet “toot,” like the Duchess of Thorndon retiring to whatever an engine's boudoir is called. Make no mistake, she possesses character and power, and can use them both, but she knows when to use them and when to throttle down. She can beat the “moderns” at their own game, but she is speedy without being “fast,” she never “gets off the rails,” and never goes gallivanting hither and thither like some of those gasoline gad-abouts who are deficient in mechanical manners. She is the oldest and the yet most up-to-date of the self-propelled plutocracy, and she knows it. Let us bare our crank-cases to this high-born lady, whose pressure-gauge palpitates with maternal feeling for us all, and whose way undoubtedly is the Permanent way.
It truly has been said that man is born to borrow—or is it sorrow; in any case both are equally true. Truer still it is that man is born to bituminous bounding. From the moment his new-found father turns from him more in sorrow than in anger, and asks the nurse if it is necessary for a new-born babe to impersonate a neglected radish, up to the period when his hardening arteries abandon him to the mercy of his relatives, man rambles on rollers. Thus the seven ages of man have acquired a significance unrecognised by Mr. H. G. Dwells in his Outline of Mystery.
From the age of 0 to 3, he literally perambulates; from 3 to 5 he scoots; from the moment he can separate one of Aunt Emmaline's roller-skates
“The Duchess of Thorndon.”
Motor - cycle mania usually breaks out simultaneously with pimples. Being in receipt of seven and sixpence per week, he takes advantage of the higher-purchase system and lives on the remaining two and six by cutting down everything except food, clothes, cigarettes and entertainments, and squares his budget by borrowing from “the boy's best friend.”
“The Last Pedestrian.”
With the accumulation of years and hairs on his upper lip, his motif is the motor-car. You know how it is done. A mortgage on the life policy, a raid on the savings bank, a clearing sale of his boyhood treasures (sob), and he is the owner of a one-tenth, undivided share, in nine feet of sheet-metal in which is concealed the inner history of an alarm clock, and enough trouble to start a war. Finally he ends up—as I hinted—in a bath chair, where probably he is more comfortable than he has been ever before.
One night I dreamed a dream. I saw, as in a glass damply, a vision of the last pedestrian on earth. I noticed that he was small and gaunt—as if he had run fast and far—but in his eye was the stubborn fatalistic expression of the Tuatara.
Travelling “First.”
Although it was obvious that he was determined to sell his life dearly, with his back to the bitumen, he was doing his best to keep his obituary out of the papers. It was evident that he was a decadent specimen of an almost vanished race.
Although every occupant of the charging cars was doing his best to carry out the slogan of “get your man,” the lone pedestrian succeeded in beating the “balloons.” But he was hard pressed and it was obvious that he was up against the radiators. As each jangling juggernaut rushed him with gleaming headlights and snarling exhaust he leapt over it, under it, or betwixt it.
Finally the end came with merciful swiftness. He slipped on a patch of gear grease and bit the bitumen. With a hoot of gasolinian glee, fifty taxis, lorries and limousines leaped on his recumbent form, and when they had finished he was transmogrified.
The scene changed. Suddenly I noticed what appeared like a wisp of mist, which rose above the scene of his downfall and then settled to the ground. Slowly it assumed human form, turned and smiled at me, and I saw that it was the ghost of the last pedestrian—the unconquerable, unquenchable, valiant spirit of the typical pedestrian had survived, and was pedestrianating to its own send-off. Vive le pedestrian!
“A wealth of fern trees filling every nook
With glorious circles of voluptuous green.”
—Mrs. Hubert Heron.
A typical road scene in the famous Buller Gorge, South Island, New Zealand.
James Cowan
By a coincidence, this article was written and set in type just before the great earthquake of 17th June, which damaged a section of the famous highway in the Buller Gorge and affected Murchison and other places in the Nelson and West Coast districts. The road here described is blocked at present, but repairs have already been begun, and the restoration of the areas is a task in which Government and settlers are joining hands. The splendid spirit of the West Coast pioneers is exhibited again in the courage and resolution with which the people along the Buller have attacked the problems of reconstruction of their homes. As for the route, it will be a highway of greater scenic and historic interest than ever when communications are restored.
Some day, when the West Coasters get all their hearts' desire, the traveller will speed smoothly down the grand valley of the Buller River in a luxurious railway carriage, and glancing up now and again from his detective novel will remark on the beauty of the bush and the fern-tapestried cliffs, and before he realises it he will find himself out on the levels at Westport or that other coalopolis of the land of many minerals, Greymouth.
For the present he must be content to make the journey from the South Nelson railhead to the western mountains by motor car; and an excellent service it is that links up the two ends of the iron rails.
A few years ago he would have had to travel by the mail coach, which took exactly twice the time that the motor does. But even the horse-coach was lightning-speed travel by comparison with the journeyings of one whose pioneer tramps through this tremendously broken region will be recalled in this article.
I never can travel through such country without mentally contrasting the conditions to-day with those which confronted the old-timers, the surveyors, explorers, bush scouts, the men who carried everything on their backs, who kept themselves in food as they went along if the country offered any, who starved for days, camped when there was plenty, who almost daily risked their lives by river, cliff and mountain. Their pains were many, their rewards few. Here and there their names are on the maps, but to most travellers, these days, they are but names. Few know just why those places were named Rochfort, Mackay, Brunner, Fox, and so on. The most strenuous pathfinder of all was Thomas Brunner, who explored the Buller from end to end just over eighty years ago.
First come with us some way down the Buller from the point where the north road strikes its wooded, rocky banks. One's memory goes back to the old coach days, when we used to board the five-in-hand at Corlett's Inn, six miles from Motupiko. A good hundred miles of coaching is before us, two days' run over mountain and down glen and along cliffy river-bank to Westport.
It is a glorious day, up on the box seat, as we swing along in this exhilarating mountain atmosphere. We cross up from the Motupiko watershed to the Hope Saddle (2,000 feet), and from there have a glimpse of the distant sea, the mountains round the Sounds, and the blue wooded ranges in the rear of Nelson. Wave after wave of green mountains to the south melts into purple haze, and the distant glimmer of the snowfields on the Spenser Ranges, where Mt. Franklin's frosty peak rises to a height considerably over 7,000 feet. Descending from the sharp backbone of the land, we curve and zigzag down the gullies into the Hope Valley, where we strike the head of the Buller, fresh from its mountain lake. A lovely, cool, forest-shaded creek is the Hope, singing over its rocky channel. The mountain country is clothed in beech woods, the trees silver-barked and thin of foliage.
At the meeting of the waters, where the Hope hands over to the Buller, we begin our
Every road crook opens up a scene of fresh enchantment. The sun by this time is well down to the westward; we drive along under the cool shadows of the hills, and through the loneliest of forests. This mountain-beech country harbours little life; not one note of a bird falls on the ear. The sole living thing is an occasional dark-brown weka (the “Maori hen”), wandering down the white road, and sometimes coolly tarrying in the middle of the way, with its impudent little eyes fixed on us until the leaders are nearly on top of it and then scuttling away in a comical hurry into the fern to which its plumage is so near akin in hue. Sometimes the river roars down in a brawling rapid, then it lies smooth and gloomy in silent black pools.
“Deep in the glen, the merry waters racing…”—A. G. Wilson.
The junction of the Owen and Buller Rivers, South Island.
The river-bank configuration is curious; the floods have guttered the rocks into all sorts of strange shapes—rounded isolated bosses, stratified parapets, caves, overhanging rock-freaks. Away up on the mountain tops the golden light of late afternoon paints the feathering trees in fiery radiance; then, all suddenly, the sun drops down over the ranges and the forest changes to a dark blue wall. The first morepork's melancholy call comes from the bush and tells us it is full time for kaikai—and just then our Yuba Bill swings round into a little open flat, ringed by the mountains, and draws up all jingling and rattling at the door of the Long-ford Hotel, an old-fashioned two-storeyed building, half-way to Westport. (You will look for it in vain to-day; the old inn has vanished long ago.)
That was the first day's run on the coach journey of the pre-motor days. The route is the same, the road is improved, the speed is double and more what it was.
On the second day we were roused at an hour which would bring many a grumble to-day. We were off again at seven o'clock a.m., and it was seven o'clock at night before we climbed down off the box seat at Westport, stiff and incredibly hungry.
But the charm and wonder of the road made up for it all—that soul-quickening run down the lower Buller—sixty miles of it, through the sheer canyon in places, past gold-dredges working the river, through that lost and forgotten-looking old digging township of Lyell; through small farming settlements here and there; Fern Flat, Tois Flat, and other little oases, a bush schoolhouse, an orchard or two, again the forest, silent and gloomy.
Down steep sidings, around sharp rock-hewn corners, swingletrees jingling and the ten pair of ironshod hoofs striking flashes from the stony way; the Buller, brown and headstrong, tearing along over the rocks below.
“
… On each side Of rock-hewn road, the fern trees cluster green.”
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
The cliff road at Hawk's Craig, in the Buller Gorge, West Coast, South Island.
The sombre beech forest gives place to more attractive and varied timber. The drooping, dull-golden tasselled rimu; tall kahikatea, straight as a gun-barrel, grow thickly on the lower levels and the little flats. The dainty white flowers of the houhere (the lacebark, ribbon-wood or “thousand-jacket”) peep out from the tangled green; sprays of koromiko blossoms, some white, some a delicate pink, festoon the rocky walls and lean down over us so close that they can be plucked from our seats. Tufted bunches of the bright sword-leaved kiekie climb the trees, and silvery-grey and brilliant red mosses and lichens, kept ever damp and cool by the oozing water trickles, coat the rocks.
In the lower gorge the vertical cliff-faces have no shrub or fern; but all around the fragrant bush climbs in high unbroken green. The mountains send densely timbered buttresses sheer to the yellow-brown river, and along the straight left bank our road is carved, chambered, trenched, tunnelled. The railway, when it comes, will, I suppose, take the other bank, the right, which mercifully is less steep than the way our road has been scooped.
And at last the hills step back, and with relief after the long defile of bush and cliff we tumble out and fall to on a square meal in Westport, where our coal comes from.
Well, that is a sketchy outline of the Buller way to-day. Now, jump back into the past, eighty odd years, and discover our pioneer pathfinder, scout of the trackless woods, trudging the Buller country, gun on shoulder, fifty pound swag on back, not for a brief excursion but turning his steps away from the last outpost of civilisation for many a month.
It was in the early part of December, 1846, that Thomas Brunner left Nelson, with a party of four Maoris—two men and their wives—to explore the Buller River downward to the coast and to seek a pass across the Southern Alps to the eastern plains.
It was the middle of June, 1848, before he saw civilisation again. For eighty weeks he was in the vast forest wilderness of the West Coast, enduring privations which seem almost incredible to-day, living exactly as the Maoris lived, scouring the bush, the rivers, the coast, for wild foods—for the small supply he and his companions carried on their backs was soon exhausted. The hardships, the dangers, the frequent narrow escapes from drowning, the sickness caused by the hard fare of the forest, the eternal rain, the snow-storms, make the story of the long journey a wonderful record of dogged endurance, of suffering and of determination to carry on in spite of all obstacles. The Buller was explored, so were many other parts of the Coast, and the famous coal seam on the Grey River was discovered. When the story of Brunner's great feat was published, the Royal Geographical Society awarded him the medal for exploration. His material rewards were very small. Performances of far less moment, journeys done under quite luxurious circumstances by travellers of to-day, make a great deal more noise in the world and win much profit and limelight glory. It was different in Brunner's day.
“… the gleam—The shadow—and the peace supreme!”—Wordsworth.
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
A charming glimpse of the Buller River, South Island.
But the memory of his heroic endeavour remains as a splendid chapter in our national story. The name of Brunner has high mana on the maps. The Brunnerton coal region, on the Grey, and Lake Brunner, which we skirt on the Otira railway route, preserve his name.
Mr. Brunner was a member of the official surveying staff in the New Zealand Company's Nelson settlement, and he had already made journeys into the interior and to the West Coast with Charles Heaphy (afterwards Major Heaphy, V.C.) and Mr. Fox (Sir William Fox of political fame later on). With Heaphy he had reached Arahura, near Hokitika; the Coast beyond that and the interior towards the Southern Alps was a terra incognita.
It is curious to read of the extremely simple and economical preparations made by Brunner for his long journey southward. The total outfit for himself and his four Maoris cost only £33 9s. 4d. The only provisions taken from Nelson were 10lbs. of flour, a few biscuits, and a little tea, sugar, salt and pepper. Most of the expenditure was for spare clothing and two shot-guns and a supply of ammunition. The members of the party, of course, had to be their own packhorses, and when they had finished what they carried in their swags they must live on the foods of the wilderness.
By way of Lakes Rotoiti—where they took leave of Fraser, a shepherd who accompanied them that far—and Rotoroa, the five adventurers set off down the valley of the Buller head-stream. They spent a week at Rotoroa gathering and preparing fern-root for food, before they started off for the Matakitaki.
Now their troubles began. It was terrific rough going, down that narrow gorge, along the sides of the trackless mountains with the flooded torrent roaring below. Brunner recorded that his load, when he began the hard struggle through the upper gorge, consisted of his gun, 7lbs. of shot, some powder, 8lbs. of tobacco, two tomahawks, two pairs of boots, five shirts, four pairs of trousers, a rug and blanket, and at least 30lbs. of fern-root. With such loads he and his Maoris could travel but slowly through that tangled, dripping, cliffside forest. They could travel only about two miles a day at the most, and sometimes only half a mile. Two months out, the last handful of flour was used. There was very little to sustain life in those black-beech forests; and at last they had to be content with one meal a day of their fern-root from Rotoroa. An occasional eel was caught in the river.
“The river knows the way to the sea:
Without a pilot it runs and falls …”—Emerson.
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
Looking up the Buller River.
They struggled on, those hard-travelling five, the women carrying as much as the men. For weeks they followed the great winding river. At last they reached the Coast, six months out from Nelson, after countless adventures and all but starved. They had to kill and eat Brunner's dog. They expected to find Maoris on the Coast, but the settlement was deserted, and all they could get to eat there was seaweed from the rocks.
Later on, when they travelled by slow stages down to the Mawhera—the Grey River—and on to Taramakau and Arahura, where there were some Maoris, they fared better.
(To be continued.)
Hunter
Professor T. A. Hunter, who, for a quarter of a century, has laboured enthusiastically in promoting the growth of liberal education throughout New Zealand, is one of our most distinguished educationists. In the following article, specially written for the New Zealand Railways Magazine, he discusses the Adult Education Movement and the fundamental principles which apply to education intended to develop true citizenship and social service.
Lindbergh has flown the Atlantic; Kingsford Smith has hopped the Pacific; the barriers that separate man from man from man are breaking down—have broken down. Time and Space are being eliminated; the millions of our own people, the tens of millions of the races of mankind are finding themselves cheek by jowl on a planet in which, until within the briefest span of the immediate past, the distances seemed so vast that one people appeared eternally separated from many others. The world is rapidly growing smaller; news that came to our pioneers in three or four months now flashes to their descendants in a few brief seconds. Steam and electricity, the aeroplane and the wireless, the factory, the cultivator and the newspaper have bound the world together; the age of invention has meant a new world, and man must perforce adjust himself to the new environment and the new ideas, or perish.
If these inventions are not to make slaves of the mass of mankind we must understand them and their social consequences; we must understand something of our own nature and development, something of our own history and of the history of other peoples, something of the delicacy of civilization, something of the brainy thought, the blood and tears, that have given us our social heritage.
In the widest sense of the term, then, education covers this process of adjustment of man to his environment, physical and social. As each generation begins with the accumulated wisdom and prejudice of its forerunners, the problem of equipping the next generation with the means of facing and solving its problems is becoming ever more difficult, and ever more urgent. “The citizen,” writes Professor Laski, “must be able to find his way about in the great world or else he ceases, in any real sense, to be a citizen. He must be able to form judgments upon issues so complex that their very statement is incompatible with simplicity.”
It is because of the increasing complexity of social relations, national and international, that adult education is beginning to loom large in the future plans of the progressive nations of the world. The Committee on Reconstruction in England tells us that “the Adult Education movement is inextricably interwoven with the whole organised life of the community. Whilst on the one hand it originates in a desire among individuals for adequate opportunities for self-expression and the cultivation of their personal powers and interests, it is, on the other hand, rooted in the social aspirations of the democratic movements of the country. In other words, it rests upon the twin principles of personal development and social service. It aims at satisfying the needs of the individual and at the attainment of new standards of citizenship and a better social order…. The creative use of leisure is of central importance to the modern state if democratic government is to be made effective…. The Adult Education movement means that whatever there is of a creative character in the national genius—its songs, its folk-tales, its history, its love of the artistic crafts—will be used for the training of a people able to utilize its powers.”
It is only sixty-five years ago that Foster's Education Act was passed in England and half a century since the foundation of our own wisely-planned system of National Education for children. That the State undertakes this great task is recognition of the importance of education for civic life. Since that time we have concentrated our attention on the education of the youth of the community; and rightly so — first things first. But though our educational system, notwithstanding its errors and defects, has brought great benefits in its train, it has had one very unfortunate, and, I believe, unforeseen consequence: it has accustomed our peoples to associate education with the school, whether primary, secondary, or university, and to imagine that whoever has passed through any or all of these institutions has been educated.
Modern coaling plant.
The up-to-date coaling plant recently installed at Elmer Lane Depot, Greymouth, South Island.
How often do we hear people say that their education is completed? But if education means the harmonious adjustment of the individual to the progressive changes in the organization and ideals of his community, it is clear that education is life-long: death or a fixed set of habits and prejudices can alone bring the process to an end. The function of the school—primary, secondary or university—is not to educate in this wide sense of the term, indeed it cannot. Education must take place in the actual process of living; the education of a doctor involves practice in the medical art, of a lawyer that of the legal profession, of a citizen that of citizenship. We can learn only by doing; a doctor, lawyer, or citizen only by the practice of their respective arts.
What, then, can the schools do for us? They may make us familiar with our social heritage and equip us with the tools by the use of which we may learn to carry on our life-duties effectively. The value of any system of education, therefore, can be fairly judged only in terms of the character of the citizens it turns out, and their capacity to handle the problems of their social relations.
It is the realisation of these two facts—the increasing complexity of society, and the need of greater insight and wider sympathies among citizens if they are to solve their social problems — that has developed interest in adult education. The young have occupied the centre of the educational stage during the past fifty years. In the half century that lies in front of us the adult will come into this position. The change does not mean that less will be done for the child, for we now realise that the education of the child is beginning to mark time till the education of the adult comes into line. It is now the limited vision of the adult that is the most serious hindrance to the development of fuller educational facilities for the child. We have been too ready to imagine that we may relieve ourselves of civic responsibility by handing over our children to teachers. But adults form perhaps the most important part of the environment of children, and however much we may desire that they shall do what we tell them to do, and not what we do, we shall find that human nature is not built on that plan. If we wish our children to be just, we must be just;
The importance of the education of grownups is now recognised. The Bulletins of the World Association for Adult Education clearly show that all progressive nations are developing this side of their educational systems in ways suited to their special circumstances and needs. The striking example of Denmark has had the widest influence.
Conveying city workers to their homes
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A suburban train steaming out of Auckland Station.
New Zealand knows of Denmark as a leader in the dairy industry and as a our principal competitor in the English market. But not so many are aware of the romance that lies behind Denmark's march into the front rank of this industry. Everyone knows that it was due to co-operation, but not so many realise that this co-operation was made possible by the deeper insight into social and economic problems, the wider sympathies and outlook that were developed through a remarkable system of education among the adults of the rural population. By this means the Danes have been enabled to obtain a greater amount of a better product.
But this, after all, is but a minor advantage, great as it is, for through their Folk High Schools the Danish people have widened their interests and sympathies and obtained a much greater satisfaction in life. And after all, vital living is what we are here to achieve. What Denmark has done New Zealand can do; the means lie to our hands, provided we are prepared to put aside our prejudices and to throw ourselves as citizens into this effort—not of reforming other people but ourselves, a task which (as Carlyle pointed out) is much more difficult.
Just twenty-five years ago the W.E.A. was founded in England to carry on the work of Adult Education; the conservative University of Oxford and the radical Trade Union Movement put aside their prejudices and combined to carry the benefits of higher education to all those citizens who were prepared to make the effort to widen their knowledge and their sympathy.
In 1914 the movement was introduced into New Zealand by the late Professor Meredith Atkinson and Mr. Stewart. It has since brought within the scope of its educational efforts thousands of our citizens, urban and rural.
In 1915 there were 17 classes with 352 students.
In 1928 there were 182 classes with 6,692 students.
The greatest possible freedom is allowed to each class, which selects its own subject of study and times of meeting. Tutors are appointed by the University Councils. The class meets once a week for two hours, the first of which is devoted to the lecture by the tutor and the second to question and discussion by members. Every effort is made to enable students to develop their own thought. Special classes have been formed for railway workers whose hours of work prevent them from attending at the usual hours. By other methods such as the “Box Scheme,” and “Correspondence Groups” endeavours are being made to meet the needs of smaller groups in more remote parts, where it is impossible to provide a tutor.
The classes have been most catholic in their choice of subjects: Literature, Drama, Economics, Psychology, History, Sociology, Public Health, Appreciation of Music, Science, International Relations have all been selected. No one is excluded because the subject of his interest is barred. No men or women can study these subjects without developing their personalities and without developing new interests in life, and without, therefore, increasing their power to direct their own lives aright and to contribute more effectively to the control of social forces.
“Waters, rolling from their mountain-springs….”
—Wordsworth.
(Photo, G. S. Desgrand, Brisbane.)
The famous Dart River, as seen from Paradise (head of Lake Wakatipu), South Island, New Zealand.
The funds for the prosecution of this work come from grants by the Government, the University and public bodies, and from donations. Those who control these sources have been far-seeing enough to realise the benefits that flow from this kind of civic service.
Lord Bryce—one of the wisest investigators of democracy—said: “The prospect of improving the relations of states and peoples to one another depends ultimately upon the possibility of improving human nature itself…. Can it be raised to and sustained at a higher level than it has yet attained?” That is the great question. The answer to that question lies in great part with the development of a wider system of education for adults.
Dining Car Service
How the restaurants of the Pennsylvania Railroad's Hotel on Wheels, the Broadway Limited and other De Luxe Blue Ribbon trains, serve more than 12,000 meals every day to the rail-travelling public is told in the following article.
The opening of the Pennsylvania Railroad's third training school and dietetical kitchen at Chicago for its dining car stewards, cooks, and waiters, marks another step in the systematic training of the 2,000 employees who man the diners of the railroad, maintaining unexcelled dining car service for thousands of passengers daily.
Training school for dining car employees.
Instructing waiter demonstrating the proper methods of serving tea in the Pennsylvania Railroad's training school for dining car stewards, cooks and waiters at Columbus, O. This man, a waiter of wide knowledge and long experience, conducts classes in service methods, courtesy, personal appearance, care of silver and linen, and kindred subjects.
The first school was established at Columbus, O., last year, and the second was opened at Sunnyside Yard, Long Island City, New York, early this fall.
The experimental kitchen and training school at the Chicago Commissary, 328 West Roosevelt Road, has the same objectives as the two older schools: to give a thorough and rigid training to prospective dining car employees, and, at the same time, by regular periods of study and instruction, constantly to improve the work of those already in service.
To make this possible, an exact reproduction in space and equipment of the latest type of Pennsylvania railroad dining car, built into and forming a part of the commissary building, is used for demonstrations and experiments.
Every feature, from cooking utensils, range, broiler, and pantry, to the dining room and table for patrons, has been reproduced precisely. Even the familiar aisles and corridors have been retained, and made to confirm exactly with standard dining car specifications. With this complete and compact equipment, it is possible to carry on demonstrations, and conduct classes under exactly the same conditions as prevail in cooking and serving meals while dining cars are under way. Just as the rolling dining cars are systematized and provided with every appliance to make the work of every employee safe and efficient, so this representation of a car is safeguarded.
Every feature of the cooking art is taught with great care. The instruction ranges from the preparation of cuts of meat for broiling and roasting, to the creation of the most delicate sauces and salads. The courses of instruction cover the preparation of raw meat cuts, poultry of all kinds, fish, soup stock, sauces, eggs, vegetables, cold meats and garnishings, salads and relishes, hotbreads, puddings, pastries, beverages, and many other fundamentals of the culinary art. Every item of food served on a Pennsylvania dining car is prepared on the car.
Training in preparing and serving all dishes is given new men in the Pennsylvania dining car service as well as older employees, to whom new ideas are constantly presented. The average employee spends approximately three hours at school each week, while assigned to his regular
The staff of supervisors and instructors in the new Chicago Commissary School is composed of men of wide and varied experience, not only in railroad dining car work, but also in the largest and most popular hotels and restaurants of Europe and America.
William Arthur Williams, instructor, has not only had 16 years experience with the Pennsylvania Railroad as steward, inspector, commissary agent, and instructor, but has also spent considerable time as steward for Canadian railroads. Coming from a family of practised restauranteurs, Mr. Williams has given years of study to his profession. Since 1923, when he began writing the menus for the Pennsylvania Railroad dining car system, west of Pittsburgh, Mr. Williams has done much to systematize the work as well as to make the menus more attractive.
Under the supervision of expert chefs.
Chefs demonstrating the preparation of canaloupe ball salad and proper methods of cutting beef on the Pennsylvania Railroad.
Carl Schiller, instructing chef, has had long experience in famous English restaurants, on some of the finest ships of the Cunard Line, and in many American hotels and restaurants. His father was managing director of A. and S. Gatti and Co., of London, one of the most famous eating places of that city. Mr. Schiller served as an apprentice in the kitchens of this European landmark for three years. He went to Canada and there served as chef for Nasmith Co., of Toronto, who operated a chain of restaurants there. Later, he was chef of the King Edward Hotel of Toronto and chef de cuisine of the Royal Canadian Yacht Club. For four years he was assistant chief steward on the S.S. “Lusitania,” S.S. “Carpathia,” and S.S. “Mauretania,” respectively.
Walter Jack is the instructing waiter. He has been in the service of the Pennsylvania Railroad for five years and has had much experience in hotel and catering work, including service at the Palmer House, Chicago. He is also an expert cook.
Pennsylvania Railroad dining car service has gradually developed and expanded through the years, until, to-day, 183 cars are in operation on over 200 trains a day. Some idea of the extent of this service may be gained from the fact that in 1927 an average of 12,000 meals were served every day in the Pennsylvania dining cars, or a total of approximately 4,000,000 meals for the year. Nearly 2000 persons are employed in the dining car department, including stewards, waiters, cooks, commissary workers, clerks, and a large group of miscellaneous employees.
The average passenger travelling to or from New York or Chicago on the Broadway Limited, the Gotham, the Liberty Limited, or one of the other Blue Ribbon trains of the Pennsylvania Railroad, does not realize the huge amounts of supplies, necessary for the diners, carried on these and the many other trains of the Pennsylvania.
In 1927, approximately 2,000,000 pounds of meat and fowl were served in the dining cars. Patrons were also served 300,000 pounds of fish, 150,000 pounds of white potatoes, 450,000 loaves of bread, 160,000 dozens of rolls, 225,000 pounds of butter, 230,000 dozen eggs, and 220,000 pounds of coffee and tea.
A single dining car run demands 16 large baskets of supplies, and this does not include the perishables that are picked up at different dining car agencies located in the larger terminals.
The magnitude of the task of keeping the Pennsylvania Railroad's dining cars fully stocked with all sorts of supplies and materials is astounding. Every day 15,000 napkins, 2,500 table cloths, and 1,400 waiters' jackets are freshly laundered for use on the cars. More than 3,000 articles are used in the preparation and service of meals on one Pennsylvania diner. At one commissary there are enough dishes to stock a large metropolitan hotel, while huge storerooms house reserve supplies of pots and pans and other utensils.
Anative dining saloon in new zealand.
Maoris preparing food at a logging camp in the Urewera country, North Island.
A Pennsylvania Railroad diner carries about 1,200 pieces of linen, 750 pieces of silverware, and 1,500 pieces of china and crockery. The total cost of one dining car's equipment runs well over 3,500 dollars. The dining car department's laundry bill alone amounts to about 18,000 dollars each month.
J. F. Finnegan is superintendent of dining car service and in charge of dining car operations west of Pittsburgh. His offices are in Chicago.
A Story of Pioneer Railway Enterprise
PartIII.
Extracts from a Thesis written by Mr. G. A. Mill, B.A., for the Degree of Master of Arts in History.
It was not only Europeans who demonstrated generosity and patriotism in connection with the building of the Manawatu railway. Mr. J. E. Nathan in his speech at the opening of the line commented on the fact that running rights had been granted by Maoris over 31 ½ miles of railway, while Europeans had given similar rights over three miles. Some considered the Company “fair game,” and one who claimed £4,700 as compensation was awarded £300 by the Court in full satisfaction. Major Kemp, a celebrated chieftain of that day, gave freely the right-of-way for nine miles. He said: “I am filled with delight about the proposed railway, and if I were a rich man I would construct this part myself, and hand it over after the manner of a chief.” Other natives with similar land to dispose of received shares at the rate of £10 worth per acre.
Auckland's new yard.
(Photo. W.H.H.G.)
The Auckland Yard has been laid out on the most modern lines, the latest system of colour-light signalling and electro-pneumatic interlocking being installed.
During the following year, ending February 29th., 1884, contracts were let for a further 51 miles of formation, the price being £232,281. Money was urgently needed, or would be in a very short time. To secure funds it was decided to go on the London market, and to this end Sir Julius Vogel was appointed agent to the Company, with very happy results. It was proposed to sell £400,000 worth of debentures, each worth £100 and bearing interest at 5 per cent. per annum. But before this was done the directors considered it necessary to have sufficient capital subscribed for the loan to be covered by the uncalled liability on such capital. The subscribed capital was only £300,000 called up, £1 per share, leaving the uncalled liability at £4 per share, or £240,000 of the £300,000. This issue of shares was subscribed entirely in London, but the expenses, then considered moderate in such circumstances equalled 15 per cent. of the possible cash value of the Company. The task of floating the debenture issue was left to Mr. Julius Vogel and he decided to sell at 95. Again the issue was a success, and the expenses, excepting the loss of £20,000 by selling below par only amounted to £10,463. The Board considered this very satisfactory.
During the next year, however, the Company entered troubled waters. There were contracts to the value of over £200,000 that being finished required the completion of payments, while expenditure on land absorbed nearly £10,000. Land sales had been a failure. This seriously disturbed all financial arrangements. Contracts for 48 miles were well under way, while only 20 miles of easy construction needed to be contracted for. It was also seen that to sell the land to the best advantage the Company would have to wait until the line was completed, for only then could prospective buyers inspect it.
So great was the financial crisis at this time that the directors, with some of their friends, had to become personally liable for £61,000 with the brokers of the Company. Wages and salaries
Maintaining the rolling stock.
A section of the Locomotive Erecting Shop, Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington.
Negotiations were in progress when the annual meeting of 1885 was held. There the chairman gave little information, but asked for full confidence, and the approval of a plan whereby in the event of the Government's refusing to purchase, the company could attempt to carry on. The only way in which money could be raised was by an increase in the subscribed capital. The plan was to increase the capital by the placing of 40,000 shares and selling £166,000 worth of debentures. The subscribed capital would then amount to £700,000 and debentures would total £560,000.
The plan was agreed to, but all depended on the London shareholders as to whether it should be proceeded with. These met and recommended that the railway be not sold on the terms offered. To aid the directors they proposed that if 15,000 shares could be placed in the Dominion they would place the remaining 25,000 shares and the debentures in England. To this the Wellington Board readily assented, and discontinued negotiations with the Government.
Heartened by the sincere co-operation with the London shareholders, all again set to work to place shares. The issue both in London and New Zealand was quite successful. The debentures, however, were not nearly so, only £110,000 worth out of £160,000 being sold at 98.
The directors tried, but without success, to make suitable arrangements with their brokers, the Bank of Australasia. Happily for the Company and the district the Colonial Bank of New Zealand was willing to oblige, and became the bankers of the Company.
One would have thought that the ardour of the pioneers would have been damped by the general situation, but not so. Throughout the annual meeting there existed the old hearty optimistic spirit. From enquiries received a large traffic was expected when the line opened, and all were happy and hopeful. It was also predicted that the entire line would be open for traffic some months early. And so it happened. On December 1st., 1886, the line was declared open for traffic—ten months within the stipulated period. The official opening took place on November 3rd., by which time the Company was again deeply in debt. At the end of the financial year, i.e., in March, 1887, sundry creditors totalled £111,097, and interest on this sum
The official opening of the railway took place on November 3rd., when there was performed at Otaihanga the historic ceremony of the driving of the last spike at the spot where Northern and Southern sections connected. Over this finishing point a triumphal arch built of native palms and fern fronds was stretched, underneath which a train from Wellington, bearing some 700 excursionists, steamed past as a sister train from Palmerston came in sight with 300 passengers.
The day was beautifully fine, and scarcely could a more picturesque spot have been chosen, or one in which the richness of the associations so completely marked the parting of the old order from the new. Here in a cutting assembled the official party, consisting of the Governor and his entourage, the Premier and the Native Minister, with the Minister for Public Works and for Justice, the chairman and directors of the Company, with the general manager and the chief engineer and numerous ladies. Around the official party the excursionists arranged the themselves, many using the banks of the cuttings as suitable vantage grounds from which to view the proceedings.
Locomotive staff at palmerston north in 1895.
From Left: Messrs. A. Hodge, T. Smith, R. Feasey, T. Harvey, H. Stephenson (Loco. Foreman), T. Wilson, H. Downey, W. Crawford and R. Rowe (fitter).
After the chairman (Mr. J. E. Nathan) had delivered an appropriate speech Sir William Jervois, the governor, drove the last spike, after several attempts in which the spike was sadly battered. When he had concluded his address, in which he stressed the importance of the line to Wellington and the Colony in no uncertain terms, Mr. Nathan presented him with a gold spike in a handsome case inlaid with New Zealand woods. A champagne lunch, free to all, concluded the ceremony.
(To be continued in our next.)
“Adown the vale
Broken by stones, and o'er a stony bed,
Roll'd the loud mountain stream …”
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
Turbulent waters in the Tongariro National Park, North Island, New Zealand.
“Beauteous even where
beauties most abound…”
—Byron.
(H. C. Peart, photo.)
The outlet of the Waihapo River, South Westland, New Zealand.
(Specially Written for the “N.Z. Railways Magazine by
.)H. Collett In the deep groves all things that make their haunt,
And prey on others, through the stress of gaunt
Necessity, armed with their single skill
One creature of the rest to choose and kill …”
—Richard Watson Dixon .
Day was breakin amid a blaze of golden burnished glory. The outriders of the Sun, mantled in gold and bronze, were galloping across a sky of turquoise and pearl-pinks, spraying the Earth with amber dust. Newly awakened breezes wantoned through the purple jungle deeps; they ravished the kaora's most treasured sachets to broadcast the divine perfume with spendthrift prodigality as they passed on to the distant plains. Resplendent peacocks danced their bejewelled sun-fantasy; jungle-cocks, crowing shrilly, awakened their drowsing hareems; whilst overhead the Oriols fluted or belled in ecstatic symphonies.
Far, far away up in the lucent blue sky floated a tiny dark speck that seemed suspended on invisible gossamer strands, illusory, menacing. Surely it was moving …. it was something real … alive.
And, what was that, there on the earth! Another illusion? No …. there it was again! An almost imperceptible movement amongst those tussocks of brown grass … there, there close to that laurel bush! No living creature could be hidden there … just Fancy in a playful mood! Soon, a pair of sensitive ears flickered a moment above the waving grass … vanished! Presently a small brown shape materialised loping towards a close-by cactus clump … it was, then it was not! Strangely it reappeared … a leveret .. sitting up too. At last, apparently satisfied as to the safety of the environment, it sat up and looked around.
Meanwhile the dark speck overhead had increased ominously in size; and what was more, seemed to keep on rapidly increasing. Then it fell earthwards, gathering speed in the descent. The impetus became terrific … it was hurling itself to destruction! Down, down, down … swifter and swifter it fell … came a hissing sound of air cleavage. The leveret, with a single scream of terror, leapt for the cactus sanctuary. Too late, a fraction of a second too late …. the winged death struck it in mid-leap. A few tufts of fur floated lazily upwards …. the leveret jerked spasmodically and was still.
The falcon—this was the speck—deflected upwards, banking superlatively, and alighted upon the still warm body of its victim … screaming raucously as though challenging interference. The yellow staring eyes became suffused with cold hate, the wings opened slightly, the air-pirate was ready for instant flight …. it was twenty feet up in the air. A sinuous brown shape, chittering savagely, passed over the carcass of the dead hare missing the falcon by a margin too small for words to convey.
The kill had occurred too close to a mongoose burrow to be quite safe; even as the mother hurried her kittens to safety the father had launched his attack. A complete deadlock had been brought about; the mongoose, which had taken to cover, dared not emerge into the open with the falcon on the wing and ready to strike: the falcon dared not settle upon its prey with the utterly fearless and savage mongoose awaiting an opportunity for renewing hostilities.
Meanwhile news of the kill had been strangely and speedily spread amongst the jungle people. Already Kawah—the crow, the jungle ranger—had arrived. Kawah's appearance on the scene seemed to drive the falcon mad; swiftly it spiralled towards them …. the rangers melted into space. The next arrival was Bilao—the jungle cat—with ears flattened back, snarling savagely, bent on investigation …. the falcon fell towards him …. Bilao obliterated. Came Geedar—the jackal, the jungle's undertaker—slinking very stealthily through the denser undergrowth. Geedar is an abject coward, he never takes the smallest risk; he immediately noted all the danger signs …. nothing doing … he also eliminated!
Sounded a burst of horrible, insane laughter followed by the swift padding of eager feet. Here came an opportunist, one who came not in silence but greatly hurrying. The bushes parted violently to disclose a veritable monstrosity. Shambling of gait and clumsy, ears pointed at the ends and tufted with coarse hair; head, resembling that of a large terrier, drooping and swinging from high and powerful shoulders. The hind-quarters weak and deformed in appearance, contributing greatly to the animal's general repulsiveness and emphasized by the coarse mangey hair.
In the jungle.
A Tiger returning to the first “kill.”
This nightmare creature was Chore—the hyena. Chore is one of Nature's paradoxes; seemingly weak and clumsy he is remarkably strong and swift. Apparently a pariah and coward, yet he is the only jungle dweller who will dare to filch of the kill of Sher—the tiger—the overlord of the greater carnivora. Chore also suffers from an insatiable hunger, he is never satisfied, always he is wanting more. There was one snap of his powerful jaws ‥ the leveret and Chore had both disappeared magically.
Joomas—the falcon—whistling her chagrin shot upwards and vanished into the distance. Kawah, Bilao, Geedar removed as swiftly and silently as they had materialized; for, though they were not visible to the human eye, they had remained present.
The mongoose, noting the falcon's departure. hurried off to hunt elsewhere. Not very far away he found the fresh warm scent of Dhamin—the snake. Dhamin should have known better than to be hunting in that locality, a locality pervaded by the scent of his hereditary and most deadly enemy, the mongoose. He was intent upon breakfasting off Chooah—the rat—and it may have been hunger, or the ardour of the chase that rendered him careless. Chooah—who is no fool—had probably recognised this to be his one avenue of escape, certainly the mongoose is an enemy of his, but in a much lesser degree than his pursuer.
So absorbed was Dhamin in his hunting that he completely failed to notice the proximity of his deadly foe. He barely had time to coil up on the defensive, not that it made any difference to the inevitable end once the mongoose had scented his presence.
The mongoose came to a stop a few feet away from Dhamin. His eyes became two bloodshot phosphorescent pools of flame; his fur rose on end doubling his girth; he was bouncing swiftly up and down chittering the death chant of his family. Here and there, up and down, remorselessly closing in to the attack. So swift were the evolutions it was hard to follow them, yet, always Dhamin faced the danger, his forked tongue flickering in and out in deadly menace. Suddenly the mongoose darted in …. Dhamin's head stabbed down like a flash. Attack and riposte were almost one movement …. both had failed. Again and again attack and counter were repeated without advantage to either combatant …. it was the display of the subtle skill of a pair of superlative duellists. Finally Dhamin may have tired just a very little and was the fraction of a second late in recovery, the mongoose had seized him at the base of his head pinning it down to the ground. The inevitable end came quickly …. the glistening coils became relaxed, grew dull, straightened out …. still. Later the mongoose family dined sumptuously, there was plenty to spare for Dhamin had been over five feet in length. On what was left the jungle rangers held an appreciative inquest. These were followed by the jungle-misers—the red ants—who fulfilled the final obsequies. Soon all that remained of Dhamin was a few white and cleanly picked bones.
In the meantime Chore, having made a light meal of Joomas' kill, had proceeded further afield. He chanced upon a mother partridge and her sleeping brood … these were engulfed. A resting moonal-pheasant shot, “kokking” in terror, from the ground and escaping death by the narrowest of narrow margins. He scented a litter of sucking pig; this was something really worth, a precious delicacy. Chore trailed these carefully buoyed in the hopes that Soowar
A sucker, imbued with infantine curiosity, had strayed some distance from the rest of the family. Here was opportunity …. Chore rushed to embrace it. The sucker was indeed fortunate that he saw Chore in time to avoid his rush; squealing in terror he raced to his mother's side and safety. The sow gallantly stood the would-be ravisher off; she did not really fear Chore, also, she, no doubt, knew her fearless mate would soon appear on the scene to join issue with the marauder. Chore began to bluff …. he tried unavailingly to stampede the litter. Then things happened …. happened most suddenly and painfully for Chore …. Soowar had materialized miraculously. A grunting, rending avalanche of fury took Chore in the rear catapaulting him forwards. A burning scorching pain seared his flank …. it was time to go …. Chore left, full speed ahead!
Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets…. Shakespeare.
A leopard devouring a cheetul hind.
(Photo, F. W. Champion, Esq., I.F.S.)
Apparently Chore was out of luck's way completely for the time being. Bhainsa—the buffalo bull—charged him, luckily he dodged the onslauht. He blundered upon the nursery of Bhairia—the grey wolf—who chased him many weary breathless miles. He ran foul of Bilwa—the lynx—at his kill and was clawed most abominably. Then, once again, luck drifted his way; he came to a jungle clearing where he noticed something that brought him up standing motionless …. one moment and he had obliterated.
Before him stretched a glade carpeted in emerald velvet, starred with golden flower-gems. Overhead were draped blossom laden vines mid whose festoons glared flaring orchids, flowers of evil beauty that mocked at death and decay. There Singha—the stag—accompanied by his doe and fawn stepped daintily along the sunlit spaces. The parents, ever on the alert for danger, browsed contentedly whilst the fawn gambolled and frolicked about them. Sweetly calling birds of brilliant plumage flashed in and out amongst the foliage; rainbow-hued butterflies joined in mazy nuptial dances through the perfume laden atmosphere. A grey squirrel spiralled quickly up the moss-clad trunk of a giant sal-tree scolding some imaginary creature that has incurred its displeasure.
Suddenly the sylvan calm was rudely shattered. There sounded a throaty coughing roar as Sher—that mighty hunter—suddenly appeared through a thick screen of bushes.
“
And all the air a solemn stillness holds…. “—Grey.
A cheetul hind and fawn.
(Photo, F. W. Champion, Esq., I.F.S.)
The fawn had already reached its mother's side; she, with that wonderful love and devotion of motherhood, had already interposed between her fawn and death. Singha had also spun round and intervened between Sher and his charges. Singha had sealed his fate by this action, a devoted father ready to make the great sacrifice; only a miracle could possibly save him.
There Singha stood prepared to do battle, a forlorn hope. Hooves firmly planted, legs stiffly braced to withstand the shock, and lowered head. Sher sprang; Singha met him with forward thrown antlers. Springing swiftly to one side he evaded the first attack and struck, scoring first blood. Even now Singha might have saved his life, but that meant sacrificing the others, who had fled in panic leaving the devoted father to his fate. Sher came to earth a few feet away and spun round immediately. Singha, too, was facing his formidable foe, he also had turned as Sher passed by. Sher did not spring again, this time he charged and was met gallantly by the other. Brushing aside the defensive antlers as though they were just thistledown, he struck. The same blow that brushed aside the antlers broke Singha's neck laying him in death. Seizing the carcass Sher carried it, as easily as a cat would a mouse, to the seclusion of some bushes and began his gruesome repast on the still warm and quivering flesh.
It was now that Chore appeared upon the scene; he had been a hidden and interested spectator of the battle; now, considering the moment as opportune, he emerged as though from emptiness. Sher noted and glared balefully at Chore's advent; he began to snarl low down in his throat and bared his terrible fangs in hideous menace. Chore ignored the danger signals and approached within a distance he considered compatible with safety. Then he began trotting to and fro very rapidly …. hither and thither …. backwards and forwards … always covering the same ground …. always keeping just out of Sher's reach. To and fro, to and fro, he trotted monotonously in that strangely shambling speedy deceptive gait. Times he would stop still a few seconds to sniff greedily and champ slavering jaws. Suddenly he dashed in, Sher struck a lightning swift blow unsheathing rapier like talons. Miraculously Chore evaded the stroke and was out of Sher's reach in an instant. Again he commenced his monotonous trotting to and fro. Was it at all possible Chore was attempting to
Then it happened …. Chore met with success. He had grabbed up a portion of the carcass and simply melted away …. his departure was temporary only, he was soon back to renew the old game.
'
Mongst horrid shrieks and sights unholy!—Milton.
A tiger dragging his “kill.”
By this time there were many other invisible prowlers present, all actuated by Chore's desire to share in Sher's kill, if possible: yet, unlike Chore, seemingly content to watch and wait in silence and hiding. A huge gaunt wolf lurked behind a dense screen of bushes. Many jackals slunk about soundlessly and with an untiring patience; they were as Lazarus waiting for the crumbs that might fall from the rich man's table. Day's undertakers, the vultures, had come along and were seated, like ghouls, on the nearer trees in their usual role of tireless waiting. The jungle-rangers had also arrived and were increasing in number every moment. Sher fed on in contemptuous silence of them all; he was well aware of their presence but simply ignored it.
Suddenly Chore obliterated, there had been no sound of warning …. he simply faded out of the scene for some unaccountable reason. The rangers, too, disappeared as mysteriously as they had come. A red-headed vulture craned its hideous neck …. slanted its head sideways …. fell from its perch with opened wings … was gone followed by the rest of its kind. A jay scolded harshly …. became silent …. was lost. This sudden and uncanny exodus seemed inexplicable …. the locality had suddenly become unhealthy for the jungle people …. there had been delivered and accepted some subconscious warning. Sher rose from his meal, faced in a certain direction, gazed intently a moment …. slunk away in silence.
Soon there was a sound of careless footsteps …. Man's voice impinged with strange clarity upon the silence …. the master-killer's advent was broadcasted throughout the jungle. A terrified hare dashed madly into the undergrowth and vanished; a porcupine waddled hurriedly—it takes a lot to hurry “porcy”—to its cave.
“Sher hee-an tha Sahiban, bahot burra Sher.” (There was a tiger here, gentlemen, a very big tiger.)
“I suppose the kill is hidden somewhere close by,” said the voice of a white-man, “we must have disturbed His Majesty at his meal; ask Dost Ali what is his opinion?”
“Hee-an larai tha” (There was a fight here), replied Ali. “Sher ne Hirna ko Mara.” (The tiger killed a stag.)
A
monarch of the jungle.
Indian wild elephant.
“Poor devil,” remarked the Sahib. “From the look of the ground the stag must have put up a good scrap, too. Probably fought and sacrificed his life in the interests of his family.”
Dost Ali now drew attention to where the carcass had been dragged a short distance; following this the kill was soon discovered where it had been fed upon.
“By jove,” remarked the other Sahib, “what a beauty, too, look at the antlers. Game beggar, pity he got taken for he certainly deserved a better fate.”
“Don't know that I quite agree with you,” said his companion, “seems much of a muchness to me. Still, I wonder which would be the finer finish, the tiger or a bullet? He, at least, died fighting and that robbed Death of his terrors; further, his end would be instantaneous. We might have wounded him severely, but not severely enough to drop him, so he may have got away. That would have proved a lingering end; an end filled with the awful agony of ebbing strength, the horror of utter defencelessness with ruthless enemies relentlessly closing in upon him. No, this was the finer, the fitter ending, the one I should choose for myself if such a time came.”
Presently the hunting party moved onwards. Much care had been used to avoid handling the kill any more than was possible so as to minimise the contaminating man-scent permeating it. The prevalence of such a “scent” would constitute a warning that even Sher, the King, would not fail to respect. Towards the evening a party of timorous and excitedly chattering native villagers put in an appearance with the object of building two “machans” (platforms) on conveniently situated trees that
At last, night settled down upon the jungle, enveloping it with an insistent, unsilent silence of a peculiar uncannyness. One must have experienced this strange paradox to have any idea of it; the jungle is full all the while of weird, surreptitious sounds to which the ear soon becomes attuned, and through which other sounds impinge with distinct clarity. A semimoon shed a pale silvery glow, striped with black bars, through the clearer spaces. Shadows, gnomelike, intangible, were continuously flitting to and fro …. shadows against shadows …. seemingly chimerical. Ghostly wills-o-the-wisp flitted and flickered around …. pale green phosphorescent pools of flame that glared fiercely one moment …. then vanished. A Co-il—cuckoo—shrilled its crescendo mournful cry …. the weird wail of a hunting wolf dolorously drifted by …. the lugubrious howl of the jackal pack shivered painfully out of the black distance …. the jungle people were out and about their business, that of eating and avoiding being eaten.
On the recently constructed “machans” sat two Sahibs patiently watching and waiting. Theirs was no vigil of delirious comfort, attacked by hordes of ravening mosquitoes whose ardent attention they dared not brush aside as the least movement or sound would certainly betray their presence and scare away the quarry for which they were lying await. How long their vigil would continue it was impossible to say, it might last throughout the night and prove unsuccessful, or Sher might decide upon returning to his kill at any moment now. They had watched for about an hour when the peculiar silence became suddenly intensified …. sinister, oppressive …. it could almost be felt. The moving shadows ceased to be …. the stealthy rustlings strangely hushed …. there was emptiness, void. A premonition of death seemed to pervade the sinister gloom …. some royal creature was drawing near …. his was the death-presence, pregnant, compelling.
Building the otago central railway, n.z.
Locomotive “Rob Roy” at Rough Ridge, Central Otago, in charge of Driver V. MacMorran and Fireman Fraser.
A small twig snapped, it was only a very small sound indeed; yet, in this abysmal quiet, it was as startling as the report of a firearm. Presently the tall grass parted …. two points of green fire blazed through the awful surrounding blackness of the night …. Sher, the overlord of all the jungle, had arrived and was moving majestically, fearlessly towards his kill. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, he became suspicious of his surroundings …. something had warned him of hidden danger. He crouched low to the ground with ears laid back, whitely gleaming fangs bared cruelly, growling softly but in horrific menace. Two flashes of orange flame stabbed through the gloom, two crashing reports shattered the palpitant silence …. Sher sprang upwards with a deep reverberating roar …. staggered a few feet, fell sideways clawing and snarling horribly, and—lay in death …. Singha was avenged!
“… And we could hear its multitudinous roar. Its plunge and hiss upon the pebbled shore.”
—George Eliot.
Giant's Tooth, Cape Foulwind, near Westport, South Island, New Zealand.
The enterprise of the British Railways in the field of electrification and in the adoption of modern scientific methods in train signalling, gives them a premier place amongst the railways of the world. Our special London Correspondent gives interesting particulars of the latest electrification and signalling installations, and makes passing reference to the first all-British railway fiction “talking” film featuring thrilling scenes on the famous “Flying Scotsman” Express.
Electrification is a word to conjure with these days. New Zealand has now tasted something of the joys of clean and swift travel associated with the employment of electric haulage. In this age of record-making and record-breaking, it is pleasant to find that, in the electrification field, British enterprise leads the world. With the recent completion of the electrification of its Central Section, the Southern Railway of England becomes the happy owner of, by far, the greatest suburban electrification system in the five continents.
The Southern Railway is a combination of three pre-war lines, viz., the London and South Western; the London, Brighton and South Coast; and the South Eastern and Chatham systems. Prior to amalgamation under the grouping scheme, the South Western and Brighton lines had embarked upon a policy of electrifying their suburban systems. Since the coming of the “Southern,” this policy has been steadily pursued, and, after spending something like £10,500,000 on electrification, this go-ahead line now operates 875 miles of electrified track. Train services throughout the wide area south of London, covered by the electrification have been entirely remodelled and augmented, new signalling has been installed, stations and platforms rebuilt to accommodate longer trains, and much new rolling-stock brought into use. The Southern electrification is on the 1,500 volts D.C., third-rail system, this system being standard throughout Britain. The change-over from steam to electric working has been accomplished with remarkably slight inconvenience to the public, and the new electric services are greatly appreciated by all—a fact which is demonstrated by the very considerable increase in business handled over the electrified tracks.
Electric train operation in itself is a big boon from the point of view of the traffic department, but not a little advantage also arises from the adoption of improved signalling equipment, which goes hand-in-hand with every conversion scheme. The signalling department seems likely, in the near future, to play an exceptionally important part in railway operation, for we are now on the brink of vast developments in signalling methods. Reference has previously been made in these columns to the utilisation in Germany of the metal selenium in connection with train signalling. Further developments in the use of selenium cells have now taken place in Germany, and, before long, this accommodating
In Bavaria a most interesting system of train control has been established, employing a mirror which, operated in association with selenium cells and an intensifying device, automatically applies the brakes to a train that has failed to pull up at a stop signal. When illuminated, selenium becomes a conductor of electricity. Making use of this property, there has been produced a many-faceted mirror of about four inches diameter, and, by placing this mirror in position on the semaphore, the light is caught from an approaching locomotive and reflected back to the engine where it strikes a selenium cell. The impulse is then communicated to a relay, furnished with an intensifier, this actuating the train brakes. The control arrangement is equally useful for lessening train speeds on passing first warning signals, or to prevent speeds above a set maximum being attained by trains passing over any particular length of track. Altogether, these developments with selenium cells promise to open up a most profitable avenue of study for the signal engineer.
Electrification in britain.
Cannon Street Station, London (S.R.), shewing electric train and track equipment.
Apropos the subject of train signalling, Mr. W. H. Deakin (who is eighty-two years of age and has had a life-long connection with railway signalling) recently read before the Institution of Railway Signal Engineers, a most interesting review of signal progress. In this review were described the first crude signal employed, in 1827, on the Stockton and Darlington Railway; types of early signals in use on the Liverpool and Manchester line about 1834, and several other early designs of signalling equipment on Britain's pioneer railways. About 1840, signalling consisted of two distant signals, and a two-armed home signal on the platform, the home signal arms being worked by hand-levers at the foot of the post, and the distant signals by two pull-over levers fixed on the station platform. The first signal frame was the invention of Sir Charles Hutton Gregory, and was called a “stirrup” frame. The signals were operated by wire connections from four stirrups, which the pointsman pressed down with his foot. In 1859, Austin Chambers contrived, in conjunction with this stirrup frame, the first method of interlocking. A somewhat similar patent produced about the same time was the interlocking device of John Saxby. This coupled the wire working the signal on to the point lever, so that, as the points were pulled over, the signal was at the same time lowered. Little by little train signalling has been perfected,
Rail-road co-ordination.
Containers are now largely used on the Home Railways.
In the endeavour to reduce risk of damage to merchandise, arising through rough handling, a great deal is now being achieved through the use, in Britain, of containers. These are now used by the L.M. and S., L. and N.E., and Southern Railways, and recently, the last-named line has acquired many new containers, largely of the insulated type. Chilled meat from New Zealand is regularly handled by container service between Southampton and London, and banana traffic is also dealt with. Of late, containers have been employed for handling egg traffic from France (the eggs being loaded through in containers from the French ports to London). In dealing with banana traffic, of which there is now a heavy tonnage passing from London to France, containers are proving most useful. The fruit is loaded in the containers at the London docks, and these are worked by express trains to Southampton where they are transferred to the Southern Railway steamer. The contents of the containers remain untouched until the arrival at Havre, at which port the fruit is distributed to the buyers. The container service provides an ideal means of handling perishable traffic, and in the course of time, equipment of this kind will no doubt be employed for the movement of miscellaneous freight which, when dealt with in the conventional manner, involves considerable handling.
Two distinct sets of timetables, one for the use of the public, and the other for the staffs, are issued by the Home railways. The staff time-books are styled working time-tables, each book running to several hundred pages. Issued about twice annually, embracing the summer and winter periods respectively, the general principle in working time-table construction is for the main lines to be shown first in their geographical position, the branch lines following in similar order. Generally speaking, all stations, sidings and signal boxes, are shown in the tables, together with the distance between each station or signal box. Passenger and freight trains appear under suitable headings, e.g., fast freight, slow passenger, and so on. Conditional trains, running only as and when required, are usually shown in light type. Because of the magnitude of the task, there are only a limited number of printers who will contract for producing the Home railway working timetables. At the time of writing, the four group railways are busy producing their new Summer time-books, and, as a great many new trains are being put into traffic, the work of compiling the new volume is proving anything but an enviable one.
There are quite a number of ways in which railway working may be made of greater interest to the staff. Anything which may be accomplished towards achieving this is worthy of the closest consideration. Here at Home, the happy idea has occurred to the permanent way departments to encourage the subordinate forces in their tasks by awarding money prizes each year for the best-maintained stretch of
No train in all the world has attained such great fame as the “Flying Scotsman,” the daily “crack” express of the L. & N.E. railway between London and Edinburgh. The “Flying Scotsman” is really its own publicity agent, but, in these days of severe competition, no railway can afford to ignore any possible means of bringing its services before the notice of the public. For this reason the L. & N.E. authorities have gladly given every assistance to a film-producing house desirous of producing a real, live, railway drama based upon British scenes.
A
prize-winning english railway station.
Floral display at Barrow Station, on the Cheshire Lines (L.M.S. and L. and N.E. Joint Railway).
As a result of this co-operation between the railway and the “movie” people, the “Flying Scotsman” now figures in the first British railway fiction film ever shot. The majority of the scenes in this new super film are being taken in and around the King's Cross terminal. The scenery on either side of the line between London and Edinburgh provides the film's background. “Joan Crow,” daughter of a driver of the “Flying Scotsman,” is the heroine of the drama, and a thrilling close-up shows a fight on the very footplate itself of the “Flying Scotsman” locomotive. The picture is of the “talking” type, and included in the sounds reproduced, will be the roar of the wheels on the rails, the hiss of escaping steam, the beat of the pistons, and the pulsating gasp of the open firebox. There is a big future for film publicity in the railway world. To railwaymen especially, this unique “Flying Scotsman” thriller should prove of rare appeal.
S. B. Barltrop
Now that the Department is, to a large extent, using fuel oil as a substitute for coal, in locomotive workshops, much of the old trouble associated, hitherto, with a smoke-laden atmosphere within the shops, has been eliminated.
Under the original conditions of working it was practically impossible to fire up locomotives, which had undergone repairs, without causing a great deal of inconvenience to the men working in the shop at the time.
This problem received particular attention, therefore, in the reorganisation of the workshops throughout New Zealand.
At Hillside workshops the installation of a device known as a “Smoke Jack,” now renders it possible to light up and steam locomotives and boilers within the shops without the creation of any smoke nuisance.
The “Smoke Jack” consists of two moveable jib-flues, each fitted with a telescopic hood to extend over the locomotive funnel. At the other end of the flue a motor-driven fan exhausts the smoke through the fluming, discharging it completely outside the shop. The jibs are so placed that they can reach the funnel of an engine or boiler placed on any one of the three roads set aside for testing locomotives.
Locomotive Ab 723 being steamed by means of the “Smoke Jack” during weighing operations at Hillside Workshops.
Installed in one of these roads is the locomotive weighing machine (as described in the January, 1929, issue of the New Zealand Railways Magazine).
While an engine is being weighed, or is awaiting final adjustments, the jib is lowered on to the funnel and steam is raised in the boiler without any smoke interference.
Boilers requiring heating for testing purposes are also brought to one of these roads and fired up.
Due to the exhaust fan creating a vacuum in the smoke-box and thereby increasing the draft and shortening the time required for steaming purposes, the “Smoke Jack” proves a splendid time saver. The absence of the objectionable smoke allows the staff to proceed unhindered with the final stages of the repairing.
It is considered that, by the use of the “Smoke Jack,” in conjunction with the modern appliances installed for weighing and testing locomotives, a saving in time of fully 75 per cent. has been gained.
The above brief article gives an example of how, in the matter of economy of time in repairing locomotives, it is not only the major operations, but the details, that must be considered.
Connecting Services in Britain
(From our special London Correspondent.)
One of the greatest difficulties attending through travel between the Midlands and North of England and the South Coast has for long been the crossing of London. This normally meant, for the passenger, a most troublesome interruption to the journey, involving either the hiring of a motor vehicle to cover the distance between the London termini of the north-going lines and the metropolitan stations of the Southern Railway, or a tiresome trip across the city with loaded trunks by way of the underground lines. Thanks to the enterprise of the London and North-Eastern Railway and the Southern Company, the crossing of the metropolis has now become a pleasurable affair indeed, at least so far as concerns the transfer of continental travellers between King's Cross Station and the London termini of the Southern. A most luxurious motor coach has been put into service by these railways, conveying continental travellers free of charge between the termini of the two lines, and at an early date it is probable that similar services will be installed between other London termini of these and the other two group systems. In the provinces, too, connecting services by road motor will most likely shortly be placed at the disposal of the through traveller, and the annoyance of crossing the big cities reduced to a minimum. Complaints are sometimes made of the lack of enterprise displayed by the British railways. Here is a case where real thought is being displayed for the comfort of the traveller.
Running on the christchurch-lyttelton electric line.
One of the Six Electric Locomotives made by the English Electric Company for the New Zealand Railways. Each of these locomotives has a length of 38 feet and a weight of 50 tons, with a total horse-power of nearly 1200 (from four motors).
Farmers' Excursions
A prominent local farmer, when asked this week how it came about that while farmers' excursion trains from the South Island were patronised by over 1000 persons the Taranaki excursion to the south had attracted less than 200 passengers, readily replied that the difference was only an indication of the general recognition of the fact that the North Island was the better part of New Zealand! His friend, who was a South Islander, accounted for the difference in the figures by asserting that the South Island farmers are more prosperous and more eager to gain fresh knowledge and impressions. With honours thus easy between inter-island loyalties, it is possible to wish success to both expeditions and express the hope that the interchange of visits to begin this week will be the forerunners of many more.
If the Railways Department can find it practicable to continue the running of farmers' trains it will be doing a good service to the Dominion generally. The basic objective, so far as the Department is concerned, is the popularising of the railways, but other good effects follow.
The provision of cheap fares and facilities for large parties of relatives and neighbours travelling together is made at a time of the year which suits the farming community. It enables country people to renew acquaintance and establish contact with other parts of the Dominion under conditions which ensure the maximum amount of enjoyment being extracted from the trip. The interchange of ideas between North and South Island farmers, and the first-hand knowledge gained of each other's working advantages and disadvantages, cannot help but result in a spread of knowledge of value to both sections and to the country generally.
The benefits of travel are manifold; it makes us less self-satisfied in some respects and more satisfied in others; it stimulates ideas and provides material for balanced and soundly based opinion; but its first effect, that of giving the pleasure which comes from fresh environment and changing experience, is not the least. The Taranaki excursionists carry with them the best wishes of their Province for an enjoyable holiday.—(From the Hawera Star.)
By means of an adaptation of the wireless telephone it is now possible for passengers travelling on the Canadian National Railways between Montreal and Toronto, to converse with friends in either city. Conversations between the respective cities and trains on this section can be carried on in similar manner.
Wit and humour
The foreman of a gang of railwaymen had more than his share of Irish wit.
One day he was walking along his section of the line when he found one of his labourers fast asleep in the shade of a tree.
Eyeing the man with a smile, he said:
“Slape on, ye idle spalpeen, slape on. So long as ye slape ye've got a job, but when ye wake up ye're out of wurrk!”
The last straw.
“Oh, Albert, you've forgotten little Sebastian's glass of milk.”
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Wilson (angrily): “Professor, I'm surprised to hear that your chickens have been over the wall scratching up my garden.”
The Professor (with dignity): “My dear sir, that can hardly be regarded as a phenomenon. If your garden had come over the wall and scratched my chickens I could have understood your astonishment.”
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The teacher was examining the class to see how much they remembered of a natural history lesson given the day before.
“Now, Johnny,” she said, “which animal do you remember?”
“The warmer,” replied Johnny.
“Nonsense! There's no such animal. Sit down!”
“Please, miss, I know what ‘e means,” said another boy. “'E means the otter.”
Teacher: “Give me an historical example of inappropriate action.”
Bright Pupil: “When Rome was burning Nero played the fiddle when he should have been playing the hose.”
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A prisoner in the Dublin police court told the magistrate that “he was sober enough to know he was drunk.”
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An epistle is the wife of an apostle.
The Philistines are islands in the Pacific.
The British Constitution is a sound one, but on account of its insolent position it suffers from fogs.
William the Conqueror was thrown from his horse and wounded in the feudal system and died of it.
My favourite character in English History is Henry VIII., because he had eight wives and killed them all.
Parliament was a house where men sat and disgusted bills.
The cow has a pulse as well as anyone else, but you can't feel it in its wrist.
Quinine is the bark of a tree; canine is the bark of a dog.
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It takes 1,500 nuts to hold a motor car together, but it only takes one to spread it all over the landscape.
A Great State Institution
“The organisation of the Public Trust Office,” said the Prime Minister in a recent announcement, “is Dominion wide, and the system of decentralisation of business continued to work successfully. The great growth of the business necessitates an early extension of the system, and steps are now being taken in that direction. Beneficiaries greatly appreciate the keeping of their accounts locally and the conduct of the administration of the estates in which they are interested by District Public Trustees. They realise that their interests are carefully safeguarded by a systematic and thorough audit and review by inspectors responsible to the Public Trustee, and that all important steps in the administration of the estates are directed by the Public Trustee.
“It has been necessary during the year to enlarge several of the branch offices to meet the requirements of a rapidly extending business, and this notwithstanding the policy in the past when erecting premises of making provision for future growth as far as it is practicable to do so. In Dunedin, where the conditions had become unsatisfactory alike to clients and the staff, it has been necessary to buy a site and to erect a modern building to provide facilities for the proper conduct of the local business, which has increased substantially in recent years.
“Continued effort had been directed to economical management commensurate with complete service to beneficiaries and the protection of their interests, and notwithstanding the great volume of new business which the office handled during the year the ratio of expenses had been kept at a low figure.
“The net profits for the year,” said the Prime Minister, “were £29,467, and in view of the extensive concessions made to clients in recent years this could be regarded as satisfactory—particularly when it was considered that the full effect of the most recent concessions had been felt in the year just closed. It was not the policy of the office to seek large profits, but as conditions permitted, to share with clients and beneficiaries of the estates under administration, the financial benefits accruing from a successful conduct of the business. It was necessary, of course, to set aside yearly contributions to the reserve funds to ensure the financial stability of the office, and to protect the public funds from being called upon to meet any liability under the guarantee which the State provided, but in each of the immediately preceding years it has been found practicable to make some concession to clients and estates—many of them of a substantial nature. As far as conditions would permit, this would continue to be the policy, and the Public Trustee anticipated that the increasing business would make further concessions possible in the near future.”
Recognising the importance of the oil wedge as the fundamental basis of film formation, it is desirable to examine and compare the various methods by which it may be formed and maintained, and to determine what physical conditions are favourable to its effectiveness. This calls for a discussion of the distribution of the distribution of the oil within the clearance to form an oil wedge, the features of construction which influence oil-wedge and film formation and the methods of supplying lubricants to the bearing.
What's all this talk about mechanical stokers?
The diameter of the shaft is always slightly smaller than that of the bearing surface. The difference between the two diameters is called the bearing clearance. In new bearings the amount of this clearance varies according to the service intended, a common rule being one-thousandth of an inch per inch of diameter: rather less than this for large bearings is good practice. Small bearing clearance is generally favourable to the formation of a strong oil wedge and film.
The correct construction of bearings requires such length and diameter as will produce the area necessary for supporting the shaft load without excessive pressures. For high-speed journals with small clearance, greater unit-pressures are generally allowable.
Irregularities (even microscopic) in the surfaces of the journal and the bearing will tend to cause striking or interlocking of high points. These irregularities under high pressures and slow speeds break through the oil film and cause heating, due to metallic friction. The perfection of the surfaces, therefore, influences the distribution of the oil and the amount of wear that will take place.
The point at which oil is introduced into a bearing is of importance, as it influences the distribution of oil in the clearance space where the oil wedge is formed. The point of introduction should be located correctly, both circumferentially and longitudinally, and it is often desirable that more than one point of introduction should be provided.
The journal load may be constant or variable, in a single or changing direction; or the direction of the load may be reversed alternately, as in the main bearings of a double- acting engine.
It has been explained that the pressure of oil in the film varies in a circumferential direction around the surface of the bearing. Where the load is constantly in one direction, it is evident that the oil should be introduced in the bearing where the pressure is low. No oil can enter the clearance space if the oil hole is closed by the pressure of the journal, unless it be forced in by a pump at a pressure greater than that resulting from the weight or load of the journal—a method employed only rarely on large machines. For this reason, when the load of
The distribution of oil uniformly along the length of the bearing demands its introduction at one or more points from which it will spread rapidly in the form of a wedge under the action of the rotating journal. For horizontal bearings the point of introduction should be at the middle of the length, except when the length is too great for uniform distribution.
Fig. 6.—Radial method of grooving.
The majority of bearings of small and medium size are provided with only one point of oil introduction. Bearings longer than eight inches (200 mm.) demand two or more points of introduction, unless longitudinal grooving is provided for spreading the oil towards the bearing ends. For vertical bearings, it is generally best to introduce the oil at or near the top of the bearing, on the low pressure side, so that it will be compelled to pass through the full length of the bearing before it can pass out the lower end.
In general, the purpose of grooving is to facilitate oil distribution to the oil wedge and film. Oil grooves in bearings are as often harmful as beneficial. Incorrectly applied, they may destroy the oil film. Their function is to assist in spreading the oil over the full bearing surface. They should be cut from the point of oil entry in the top bearing brass diverging towards the bearing ends in the direction of rotation. In cases where the shaft may rotate in either direction the oil grooves should be cut in both directions from this point of entry. They should never be cut right to the ends of the bearing brass, otherwise oil will escape from the bearing resulting in insufficient supply to lubricate the surfaces, and necessitating the use of greater quantities of oil to prevent overheating. Such an arrangement of grooving as this is shown in Fig. 6, where it will be seen that the oil supplied to the top of the shaft is carried across the face of the journal and towards the chamfered edges of the brass where it is distributed over the entire surface of the revolving shaft.
Under normal conditions of service it is undesirable to employ grooving on the bottom brass because the surfaces of bearings made irregular by oil grooves tend to interfere with the formation of the wedge shaped film between the revolving shaft and the supporting bearing. Oil grooves are not necessary where the oil is forced under pressure to the bearing, but chamfered and rounded edges of the bearing brass must be used under all circumstances. A common use in bearings with small clearance is to provide a passage for the oil to spread, from a point of introduction, longitudinally along the bearing. For this purpose a longitudinal groove is cut through the oil inlet, as shown in Fig. 7, to points about half an inch (12 mm.) inside the bearing ends.
In large heavily loaded bearings, where the shaft speed is low, there is always a serious tendency for the oil to escape from the ends before it is carried into the pressure area. Some relief from this difficulty is obtained by the use of a groove as illustrated in Fig. 8, located about 30 deg. to 45 deg. in advance of the area of highest pressure. This groove extends longitudinally nearly to the ends of the bearing, and enables some of the oil near the ends of the bearing to return to the middle. Such a groove should not be employed except when necessary.
The form of the cross section through the groove is of importance. Deep, vertical-sided grooves will act as oil scrapers, removing the oil and breaking the film. Comparatively shallow grooves, with a flat-bevelled or rounded edge as shown at C Fig. 8, are effective in distributing the oil from the groove into the wedge. Such a flat bevel should be cut on the edge of all oil grooves.
Bearings made in two or more parts, common to large equipment, involve joints that may cause interference with the formation of an oil wedge and the maintenance of the oil film. The same is true of half bearings. Fig. 9 shows a half bearing in which the corners or edges have been left sharp. The result is that oil is scraped off from the journal, by the corner D and escapes.
This results in oil waste and an impoverished oil film.
This objectionable feature is eliminated by chamfering the edges of the bearing parts as shown in Fig. 8. The chamfer at A, which should be as flat as possible, prevents scraping the oil from the journal, and thus forms the first part of the oil wedge. A similar chamfer on the opposite side is necessary if the direction of rotation is to be reversed.
In the foregoing it has been assumed that oil is present in a quantity sufficient to form the oil wedge. The production of the necessary oil wedge depends upon the introduction of oil to the bearings in quantities sufficient to overcome its loss by leakage at the bearing ends and partings. An insufficient supply would fail to maintain the oil wedge, and the oil film would not support the journal, resulting in retarded motion, increased friction losses and wear. An irregular supply, which might give acceptable results at times, would fail at other times. It is therefore, highly essential that the oil be introduced to the bearing with regularity by some reliable automatic means which will assure the maintenance of the oil wedge and film at all times.
If the oil wedge were always maintained, and there were not waste through leakage from the ends of the bearing, the selection of the correct oil would depend only on a correct interpretation of the factors which influence the formation and maintenance of the oil film. But lubricants are supplied to the bearings by many methods, and the method of supply affects the selection of the lubricant in four important ways:
1. The method may be one which will not supply, with reliable certainty at all times, a sufficient quantity to maintain the oil wedge. This would result in failure to the film through lack of oil, if the oil were selected from the standpoint of the lubricating film alone. Special staying and adhering characteristics of the oil are needed to compensate for the uncertainty of the supply.
Fig. 7.—Bearing cap illustrating longitudinal groove through oil inlet.
Fig. 8.—Special grooving for slow speeds and heavy pressures, also illustrating correct form of chamfers and grooves.
Fig. 9.—Half bearing with sharp edges that cut away the oil film.
2. The oil may be supplied automatically in quantities which just compensate for oil losses from the bearing. This is the normal case of film formation by oil-wedge effect. In this case the oil selected should be light in body—for the sake of minimum fluid friction—but must be heavy enough to provide a film that will support the pressure and prevent metallic contact. Oil body largely governs selection of oil for this case.
3. The method of supply may be one which imposes on the oil the duty of repeated service, requiring in the oil, in addition to the body requisite for film formation, certain characteristics that may be secured by selection of the crude and special treatment in its manufacture.
4. Where parts to be lubricated cannot be lubricated economically or advantageously by any available method of oil application, it may be necessary to use grease. Grease cups can sometimes be applied where an oiling device cannot.
It is therefore essential to have an understanding of the various in use and their influence on the selection of the lubricant. It is also important that the limitations of each method of supply should be understood, since it is impossible to secure the best results from even the correct oil, when the method of supply is not adapted to the type of bearing and conditions of operation.
(To be continued.)
“When we left England we had not the remotest idea that we were coming to such a delightful place. Everything has exceeded our anticipations.”—Lord and Lady Grimthorpe.
“We were both entranced with the scenery. It was incomparable. The beauties of Nature which we beheld compensated for the trip without the thrills of deep-sea sport, which were to follow.”—Lord and Lady Hillingdon.
“Best holiday in my life.”—Sir Harry Lauder.
Equipped with Hydraulic Rail Brakes
To-day freight traffic handling calls for the utilisation of a score and more devices, undreamt of in pre-war days. In the remodelling of marshalling yards there is an especial opportunity for improving freight traffic working, and, in the Homeland, much has recently been done in this direction. Of particular interest is the opening, at March, by the London and North Eastern line, of a new marshalling yard, equipped with rail brakes and other “down-to-the-minute” devices for the speedy handling of freight traffic.
The new March yard has accommodation for something like 5,000 wagons, the lay-out including ten reception sidings each capable of holding eighty wagons, and sorting tracks accommodating 4,000 trucks. In addition, there is special accommodation for crippled wagons and brakes. The sidings are laid out on the “balloon” system, instead of the “ladder” principle common to most British hump yards, and “Froehlich” hydraulic rail brakes are installed at the foot of the hump where the sorting tracks open out. The operation of these rail brakes has proved a great success in Germany, while, more recently, the working of car retarders at the Markham Yard, Chicago, U.S.A., has brought the utility of equipment of this character to the front. Through the employment of the “Froehlich” rail brakes at March, the L. & N.E. line has materially speeded up the operation of sorting wagons, and has also been enabled to effect valuable staff economies. Locomotive costs, too, have dropped, while there has been a marked diminution in the number of cases where wagons and their contents have suffered damage through rough shunting. What is especially important, the utilisation of this new equipment has spelt vastly safer working conditions for one and all employed in shunting operations.
“The soft sunshine, and the sound
Of old forests echoing round …”—Shelley.
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
A typical New Zealand bush railway.
Of Jeminine Interest
The frills of this evening frock are cut square, forming two points front and back. The bodice is tight-fitting, and fastens at the side. The hem of the frock can be made either straight or uneven.
* * *
The appearance of a fresh fruit or berry pie is often spoiled by the fruit juice bubbling through the top crust and then browning or burning. This may be avoided by the use of several short lengths of stick macaroni. Place several lengths, say 2 or 2 ½ inches. according to the thickness of the pie, through the cut opening in the top crust, so that the steam may thus escape plentifully. This saves the pie from “stewing over,” and when the pie is baked the macaroni may be removed. The pie is a lovely brown and the juice is retained inside the crust where it belongs.
* * *
Wash the sink free from grease with hot soap solution. The drain pipe should be cleared daily. Place two heaped tablespoonsful of borax on the grid and flush it down with a kettle of hot water. Follow with a flood of cold water.
Rinse weekly in hot borax water the bread and cake boxes. Wipe them dry with a clean fresh towel, and ventilate them thoroughly in the open air.
Scrape plates taken from the table with a rubber plate scraper, and wipe off the silver with paper napkins; stack the dishes according to kind and size, and let the hot water run over each separate pile before washing. To each gallon of water then add one tablespoonful of borax and the preferred amount of soap. Rinse in very hot water and wipe immediately with a lintless cotton or a linen towel. If the water is exceptionally hard, a little borax in the rinse water, too, aids in bringing the lustre to china, the sparkle to glassware and silver, that is so much desired.
* * *
Thirty dates, 1 cup mixed nuts, 1 cup icing-sugar, the white of 1 egg beaten to a stiff froth. Place teaspoonful of the mixture on a slide and cook in a slow oven.
* * *
One packet dates cut fine, 1 cup sugar, 1 ½ cups flour, 1 cup walnuts cut fine, 3 eggs well beaten, 4 tablespoons cold water, 2 teaspoons baking powder. Mix dates, sugar, walnuts, together; then mix with the eggs flour and baking powder and water. Put in a long or square pan, enough dough to cover the bottom of pan; it should be about an inch thick. Cut in squares and roll in powdered sugar.
* * *
Two lemons, 1 ½ cups white sugar, 2 heaped tablespoons flour (unsifted) or 1 tablespoon cornstarch, 3 eggs, 2 cups water, butter size of a walnut. Into a deep dish grate the outside rind of the two lemons, add the sugar and flour or cornstarch, and stir well together; then add the yolks of the three eggs, well beaten. Beat the mixture thoroughly, then add the juice of the two lemons, water and butter. Set this on the fire in a pan of constantly boiling water, or in a double boiler, and cook until it thickens. Remove from the fire, and, when cooled, pour it into a deep pie tin lined with baked pastry. Bake, and when done, have ready the whites of the three eggs, beaten stiff with three small tablespoons of sugar; spread this over the top and return to the oven to set and brown lightly. This makes a deep, large sized pie.
Another Record Year's Business
The business transacted by the Public Trust Office during the year ended 31st March exceeded all previous records, according to a recent announcement by the Prime Minister (the Right Hon. Sir Joseph Ward), giving details of the year's operations.
“At the beginning of the year (on 1st April, 1928),” said Sir Joseph, “the value of the estates under administration by the Public Trustee was £44,155,548, and on 31st March last, after allowing for the estates that had been closed during the year, it had increased to £48,334,790. In each of the two years preceding the one under review, the net increase in value had exceeded £3,000,000, but the present occasion was the first in the history of the office when a net increase of more than £4,000,000 had been recorded. This notable increase was accounted for by the great volume of new business reported during the year, estates representing a total value of £7,091,350 having been accepted for administration. This also was a record, representing the largest volume of new business that had ever been written on the books, and it afforded ample proof of a growing desire to take advantage of the facilities which the Public Trust Office was able to offer in the conduct of trustee business. The difference between the value of the new estates accepted for administration and the net increase in the total value of estates under administration represented the value of the estates that had been wound up and distributed. With the special facilities of the Public Trust Office for handling large numbers of estates it was possible for the Public Trustee, in those cases where the trusts under which estates were held and the beneficiaries desired it, to complete the administration and distribute the assets with great dispatch.
As an indication of the remarkable growth of the Public Trust Office, it was pointed out that the new business for the year was greater than the total value of all the estates under administration less than twenty years ago. In fifteen years the value of the business had been almost quadrupled. There had been a net increase of more than £10,000,000 in three years.”
Some particulars of the growth in the value of the estates under administration for the past thirty years were given by the Prime Minister as follows:—
Sir Joseph Ward stated that it was in every way probable that this increase would be exceeded in the near future, as the number of wills deposited in the office by living testators who had appointed the Public Trustee their executor had been constantly growing until the number held was over 63,000, representing assets of a present estimated value of £251,000,000.
Ye Southern Alps, dreaming your everlasting dreams,
Cloaked in the silent majesty of glacial white:
Holding the storm-wrack to your bosoms thro' the night,
And garnering by morn the sun's Auroral beams.
Staring with an incessant stare across the miles,
Where seas of purple jade toss shimmering in the haze
Of swooning mists that fainting droop, mid violet rays
Born in the shadow'd valleys of your wooded aisles.
Seen in the turbulence of Nature's angered mood,
In majesty of awe, sublime and dominant,
You reach beyond the clutching clouds, significant
Of strength immutable and centuries withstood.
The red tongued lightning weaves a crown of orange gold
About your brows; the crashing thunders roar bayette
Of homage; white flood torrents vainly rave and fret,
In futile rage, seeking the secrets that you hold!
The tempest threshes, impotent, against your sides,
Where glaciers lure their creeping hate with wanton roar:
Ruthless as Death, the surging avalanches pour Their cataclysmic waves and devastating tides.
Then, when the storm is fled and Nature's mood is gay,
'Neath cloudless skies of blue you smile o'er leagues of green
Lush plains, watching the gray mists trace laceries between
The purple shadows and the sun-fleck'd gold of Day.
Morn's lips, of petall'd rose, press low to kiss the hoar
That crowns your stately summits in eternal snows,
With evanescent tints that shame the bright rainbow's
Prismatic glory, arching over sea and shore
The goal set by the American Railway Association in 1923 for a reduction of 35 per cent. in railway accidents by 1930 has already been reached and passed by most of the railroads. In some instances the reduction has been as much as 75 per cent. The elimination so far as practicable, of the human factor is the chief reason for the improvement.
What The Public Think
For several years I have used your Magazine extensively in school work, and I have derived considerable advantages from it. The Magazine is most adaptable for school correlation, for it deals with a multiplicity of subjects in a most skilful and interesting manner. The children like it very much; the boys especially like to pore over its pages. In this connection the “Royal Visit” number, February, 1927, is particularly worthy of mention. I have found it an invaluable aid in History, Literature, Science and Nature Study, as well as Geography. It is a splendid piece of work. —Mr. L. H. Joblin, Schoolmaster, Maungaroa Rd., via Raurimu.
* * *
I have shown the New Zealand Railways Magazine to a number of business men and distinguished overseas visitors, and they were simply delighted with the publication. The high standard of the articles, the excellent illustrations—the whole “get up” of the Magazine—appealed to their literary and artistic sense and was highly praised by them. It must be no light task producing, each month, a magazine of such high quality matter, and the Editor and his staff are to be congratulated on the production of a journal like this, which aids so materially to advertise our Dominion.—Colonel Burton Mabin.
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Having from time to time received copies of your Magazine, I hope it may interest you to know how much I appreciate reading its contents. The illustrations are splendidly produced and the articles instructive of the way New Zealand has advanced since the introduction of Railways.—Wm. Heath, Ludlow Lodge, England.
* * *
The New Zealand Railways Magazine is a most welcome visitor every month. It is an excellent publication and quite credit to those responsible for its production. The only fault I find is that it upsets me and makes me want to come back to New Zealand.—From a Tasmanian who visited New Zealand about twelve years ago.
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Taking into consideration the great importance of your Magazine for statistical purposes, we should feel much obliged if you could see your way to continue a regular dispatch of the journal, moreover, as it constitutes one of our main information sources regarding New Zealand.—Victor A. De Beaune, Institut International Du Commerce, Brussels, Belgium.
Promotions Recorded During June
Traffic and Stores Branches.
Binsted, J., to Locomotive Engineer, Christchurch.
Chapman, E. J., to Asst. Audit Inspector, Gr. 5, Wellington.
Roberston, W., to Stationmaster, Gr. 2, Wanganui.
Webber, J. H., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Woodlands.
Lambert, J., to Passenger Foreman, Gr. 6, Taumaranui.
Dalton, R. J. W., to Gr. 7, Wellington Goods.
Baoumgren, A., to Thorndon.
Leslie, T., to Palmerston North.
Looker, J. H., to “spare,” Dunedin Passenger.
McPherson, G., to Wellington Goods.
Taylor, E. V., to Relief, Wellington Goods.
Signal Branch.
Wyles, G. W., to Signal and Electrical Engineer, Wellington.
Locomotive Branch.
Hill, F., to Sub-Foreman, Gr. 6, Hillside.
Johnson, W. J., to Leading Fitter, Nelson.
Lister, D. C., to Working Sub-Foreman, Gr. 6, Christchurch.
Sinclair, J. A., to Sub-Foreman, Gr. 6, Otahuhu.
Wardell, J., to Sub-Foreman, Gr. 6, Hillside.
Lamont, P., to Hillside.
Turner, R. C., to Otahuhu.
Maintenance Branch.
Surfaceman to Ganger.
Chapman, W., to Rangiriri.
Suggestions and Inventions.
Commendations.
O'Malley, W., Senior Clerk, Port Chalmers.—Suggestion re through booking of passengers on week-end excursions to Stewart Island.
Williams, F. C., Leading Line Erector, Christchurch.—Suggestion re draw-vice tail clip for use in overhead line work.
A Wireless Clock
The first wireless clock to be used by a railway company has been placed in one of the railway stations of New York City. The clock automatically receives correct time from the wireless station at Arlington, and, without being touched, sets its dial and winds itself up. It also acts as a master clock controlling a number of others in different parts of the station.