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.
“Ancient of days in green old age they stand.“
—William Pember Reeves.
(Rly. Publicity Photo)
The Commerce Train Party motoring through the world-famed Waipoua Kauri Forest, North Auckland, New Zealand.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
Registered for transmission by Post as a Newspaper
Published by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
“”
For Better Service.Circulation Over 23,500Vol. 4. No. 9.
Wellington,
New Zealand
January1, 1930
To those who are able to travel in summer, New Zealand presents a store of attractions that are becoming increasingly recognised both by our own people and by visitors from overseas.
Although our native trees and shrubs have the happy habit of keeping their foliage all the year round, it is in the summer that their richest foliage is seen. It is then that the warm, scented breezes of cultivated valley and forest-clad hilltop cast their spell, telling the story of Nature's rich treasures spilled from the overflowing cornucopia of this much-favoured land. Here is the time, and here the place where it is bliss to be alive.
Winter has its own special appeal—the healthy rugged life and merriment of alpine sports in mountain resorts or the attractiveness of towns, where football fields draw their multitudes by day and the cabaret makes its syncopated call to less strenuous, but more tuneful, activity by night. But it is in the summer that the people like to scatter and weave about through the country, where every place has its own particular charm, where every prospect pleases, and where man finds his mind stimulated and his health renewed for the work of the opening year.
Then it is that the facilities for comfort in travel may be enjoyed to the fullest extent. Then it is that the biggest fish in the sea show their willingness to come out of it, the green fields ripen in the sun, the pickers of hops and raspberries migrate from field to field and the milking machine is heard through the land, singing its morning and evening lullaby while it makes for the people their most certain additions from the wealth of the land.
Now is the season when holidays may be taken with the best prospect of their full enjoyment, when schools and colleges, factories and warehouses, shops and offices organise their combined outings for rail trips to distant fields and beaches, forgetting for a day any irksomeness they find in work in the purple patch of liberty and the bird-like freedom brought by association with their fellows in the open spaces of the great out-of-doors.
Those overseas agents who know their job plan itineraries carefully for their clients, so that the main harvest of tourists arrives in New Zealand in Nature's own harvest time. Greater interest is being taken by these in the Department's touring tickets, which allow for unrestricted travel through either or both the Islands of New Zealand for a definite period. These tickets are of particular use for summer travel, as every way lies open then from the North Cape to the Bluff for completely visiting the pleasure resorts of the Dominion. Except in summer, certain places do not appeal to the
Summer travel has developed greatly in New Zealand in recent years, thanks to the improved transport facilities and the greater capacity for appreciating its advantages. It helps to keep people well-informed, although at times a plethora of travel information may prove embarrassing. An instance of this is recalled of the late Lord Bryce, who was an inveterate traveller. His biographer tells that one day Sir H. Campbell-Banner-man was found chuckling after a Cabinet meeting. He said:—
“We had a very all-round discussion —Morocco, the near-East, Armenia, and constant talk about places not marked on the map. But Bryce was always ready. He knew every place, how to get there, how long it took to get to the railroad, how to cross the desert by camels, and the rest of it. Just as we were rising, the Home Secretary told us of a peculiar case just reported in Regent Street. Bryce cleared his throat and began, ‘When I leave the House at night I often walk home by Regent Street.’ Here I put my hand on his shoulder and said, ‘My dear Bryce, you must allow us to know something about Regent Street'.”
But as the world is ours for the using, so travel through it, particularly in the summer time of the temperate zone, is a particularly pleasing way by which it may be made to serve our educative ends.
* * *
Already the Empire Farmers, who are making a world tour from the United Kingdom, Canada, South Africa, and Australia, are on the sea, converging towards New Zealand for a five weeks’ tour through this country.
The whole of the transport organisation of this important delegation is in the hands of the Railway Commercial Branch, which is working in close co-operation with the New Zealand Farmers’ Union.
The tour is of a most comprehensive nature, and should afford facilities for the visitors to note and understand farming conditions throughout the Dominion. The visitors, naturally, are not making farming their sole objective, opportunity being taken to view the principal scenic attractions which the Dominion has to offer.
After the South African party of nineteen, arriving at Auckland about the 18th or 19th of February, have made a preliminary run into the north, visiting Whangarei and Russell, they will join up with the British and Canadian parties arriving at Auckland on the 24th February. The combined group, totalling between eighty and ninety, a number of whom are ladies, will visit Hamilton, Morrinsville, Cambridge, Matangi, Ruakura, Rotorua, National Park, the Taupo area, the Waitomo Caves, New Plymouth, Stratford, Hawera, and Wanganui. They will then proceed to Palmerston North and through the Manawatu Gorge to Hawkes Bay, returning via the Wairarapa, after visiting the principal places in these districts, and reaching Wellington on Sunday, 9th March.
Their tour in the South Island will include Blenheim, Havelock, and a run down the East Coast to Christchurch, thence to Palmerston and Dunedin. The Southern Lake District will be visited, and then Invercargill, Mataura, and Gore. After visiting points of interest adjacent to Dunedin, Timaru, Oamaru, Methven, and Ashburton will be visited before returning to Wellington.
The party is due to leave New Zealand by the “Niagara” on Tuesday, 25th March.
* * *
This issue of the Magazine is arranged to specially feature the recent tour of the members of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce and their associates through the northern portion of New Zealand.
Some remarkable tributes to the value of the tour have since been received. These include comments by the British Trade Commissioner (Mr. L. A. Paish), the United States Trade Commissioner (Mr. Julian B. Foster), the Canadian Government Trade Commissioner (Mr. C. M. Croft), the Secretary of the Department of Industries and Commerce (Mr. J. W. Collins), and the Secretary of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce (Dr. E. P. Neale). These letters will be featured in our next issue.
On 4th January, 1831, the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad announced that they would pay four thousand dollars for the most approved engine which should be delivered for trial on the road on, or before 1st June, 1831, and thirty-five hundred dollars for the next best engine. Four engines were entered in the competition which was won by the “York,” designed by Phineas Davis and built by the firm of Davis & Gartner, at York, Pa. The “York,” which weighed three and a half tons, had a vertical boiler and cylinders, with connections to trussed horizontal bars coupled to cranks on the axles of the four wheels. The wheels were of cast iron, and 30 inches in diameter.
(From “The Development of the Locomotive” published by The Central Steel Company, Massillon, Ohio, U.S.A.).
The Year In Retrospect.
The year through which we have just passed has been one of steady progress in the development of our services in the direction of making them increasingly responsive to public requirements.
The passenger traffic throughout the peak period of the Christmas and New Year has been handled by the staff with care and an absence of serious delays through any defects in rolling stock or equipment, and once more we are in the happy position to record an immunity from serious personal accident to our passengers that is really remarkable.
During the year we have continued the progressive policy of catering for the public demand. To this end, we have made some progress in connection with facilities and more generous services, but more particularly am I gratified to see on all sides a very marked development in the will to serve. I have also had many communications, both verbal and in writing, affording me very tangible evidence in this connection. I feel that this is probably the aspect of our progress that has the greatest potentialities for success in the future, and the advance that we have made in this connection is proportionately gratifying to me.
Anticipations.
In goods traffic we expect to have a very busy time during the next two months, and I would appeal to the users of railway waggons for further co-operation in discharging loads. Up to the date of our latest complete returns, the total tonnage of 5,302,999 conveyed during the current financial year exceeds that of last year by 220,813 tons, or by 4.34 per cent. Whilst we are doing our best to have the total waggon carrying capacity increased to a point justified by the expansion of goods traffic, it is felt that further effective action in the forward ordering and prompt release of vehicles is possible, and can be introduced with greater advantage to the despatch of business. I would make this appeal to all users of trucks to actively co-operate with us in this direction to their own benefit and ours.
We may expect during 1930 a larger proportion of passengers drawn from overseas, both as individual tourists and in groups of formally arranged parties. Among the first of the latter will be the important Empire Farmers’ party, which arrives next month, and has a comprehensive membership drawn from Great Britain, Canada, South Africa, and Australia.
A heavier business may also be anticipated in special excursion traffic.
Altogether, 1930 may be looked forward to with confidence in the general preparedness of the Department both as to the will to serve and the means to handle efficiently all the traffic available.
General Manager.
Enginedriver and mate of the Commerce Train during a portion of the tour.
A handshake between city and country” is an apt description of that now most popular innovation in railway excursions—the Commerce Train. The success of the first Commerce expedition launched by the combined efforts of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce and the New Zealand Government Railways Department was so great that there was cordial approval of the proposal for a similar train in November of 1929, and the experience gained on the pioneer excursion enabled the promoters to make this tour an even pleasanter one. A year ago the first Commerce Train made a comprehensive tour of 1,300 miles, covering most of the railage in the Auckland provincial district. It was rather strenuous travelling, and so this summer's trip did not cover so great a distance, but gave the travellers more time to look around them in interesting districts. It was arranged that the tour should begin with a run to the great dairying valley of the Waihou, extending from the Thames inland to Matamata, this trip giving an opportunity of seeing the Hauraki Plains and the proposed route of the Pokeno-Paeroa railway; and thus then the line of travel should be through the North Auckland peninsula. This programme proved in every way satisfactory. The tour was less hurried, and there was a feeling that more good would come of it than of a hasty run over a great many districts.
When the sixty men of commerce returned to Auckland from their nine-days’ excursion (November 15–24) they had travelled 584 miles by rail, 506 by motor-car, and 44 miles by motor-launch. The train ran a total distance of 780 miles in the nine days; it travelled empty for 232 miles in order to pick up the passengers at various points where the motor tours ended.
The train was a most comfortable travelling home. There were three sleeping cars, each with a capacity of twenty beds (four berth cabins), a quite luxurious lounge car, with its easy chairs and settees; there were day cars, and a canteen which supplied many wants. Everything that a painstaking management could devise was done to ensure the comfort and pleasure of the travellers who were out to do what they could to bring town and country interests closer together.
The travellers were a friendly family from the outset, almost half of the number having been together the previous year. The “father” of all is Mr. H. T. Merritt, who was travelling for the second year in succession as president of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce. With him again was Dr. E. P. Neale, secretary to the Chamber; in all matters relating to the welfare of the party, as well as to the social arrangements of the tour,
Commerce Train Scenes In The Dargaville District.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Top: At Dargaville Station. Centre: Donnelly's Crossing: The Stationmaster, his wife, his dog, and his garden. Below: The Commerce Train party at Kaihu.
“An importantce factor in the brilliant success which was achieved last year in the running of the first commerce train,” said the Auckland Star in a preliminary description of the tour, “was the presence of leading officials of the New Zealand Railways, and members of the party are gratified that most of them have again been able to make of table he next few days, and meanwhile he is represented by the Divisional Superintendent, Mr. E. Casey. (Mr. Sterling joined up during the North Auckland journey.) The Commercial Manager, Mr. D. Rodie, is in charge of the arrangements on the train, and with him is the Business Agent, Mr. A. W. Wellsted, who for two years running has toured the districts in advance to make plans in conjunction with local committees. The Publicity Manager, Mr. G. G. Stewart, is again travelling, and to his department are due the thanks of the party for an excellent brochure descriptive of the places to be visited. Mr. R. B. Morris is acting as secretary, and Mr. A. H. W. Eveden, Supervisor of the Refreshment Branch, is again giving efficient oversight to the catering on the train and in wayside refreshment rooms.”
The “Commerce Train” Party
(rly, publicity photo
member of the auckland chamber of commerce after nine days'tour of northern new zealand by train, motor, and launch
There was that important group known as the “diplomatic corps,” and consisting of the Trade Commissioners, who welcome the opportunity of touring on the Commerce Train. A newcomer this time was the British Trade Commissioner, Mr. L. A. Paish, but old friends were Messrs. C. M. Croft and Julian B. Foster, Commissioners respectively for Canada and the United States, and Mr. L. J. Thedens, Trade Commissioner for Austria. Members of the “corps” played an important part in the speechmaking at the various social gatherings along the route.
A pleasing feature was the presence of representatives of Chambers of Commerce in other parts of the Dominion. These included Messrs. H. A. Brown and A. Seed (Wellington), C. H. Burgess (New Plymouth), W. Lock (Nelson), A. R. Crane (Whangarei), H. D. M. Hazard (Waihi), and H. C. Ernest (Papatoetoe).
The first day's tour was not by train, but in motor-cars from Pokeno station eastward over the Mangatawhiri hills and across the Hauraki plains—once the great Piako swamp—to Paeroa. The purpose of this jaunt was to give the business men an idea of the character of the country which it is urged should be traversed by a short-cut railway line, thus saving 47 miles in distance and two hours in time on the journey from Auckland to Paeroa. The sight of this broad belt of fertile reclaimed fen land covered with homes and farms—the homes of four thousand people—was a revelation to most of the travellers, and made many
Mr. W. Marshall, Mayor of Paeroa, expressed the hope that the construction of the line would soon be started. It was mentioned that the Government had placed a sum of £5,000 on the Estimates
Productive Country—Near A 1000-Cow Farm.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Te Aroha, from the mountain.
The men of commerce did not dally long in Paeroa: they moved on that Friday afternoon up the Waihou Valley to Waitoa and Te Aroha. At Waitoa they inspected the great factory of the New Zealand Co-operative Dairy Co., where butter, dried-milk and condensed-milk are produced on a very large scale. From the roof of the factory building (three storeys high) the visitors obtained a grand view of the splendid rich country spread around.
There were some cordial speeches at afternoon tea in the Y.M.C.A. building which stands in the centre of the neat factory settlement. The Chairman was Mr. F. W. Walters, who was described by one of the speakers as “the biggest dairy farmer in New Zealand”; his milking herds numbered just on a thousand cows. Mr. P. H. Saxon, in endorsing the Chairman's welcome to the visitors, spoke of the importance of making known the country districts and of settling the unimproved lands.
Mr. F. J. Strange, an old resident of Te Aroha, spoke of the time fifty years ago, when the total dairying output of the Valley consisted of two barrels of salted butter shipped from the Thames by the weekly steamer. Now the combined districts of the Waihou Valley sent out dairy produce to the value of £2,000,000 per annum.
Sunday, 17th November, was spent at Te Aroha. Most of the visitors went to the Spa in the morning and many tried and enjoyed the famous warm baths. In the early afternoon there were visits to the surrounding country and to large dairy farms. The farms selected for a look-around were those of Mr. F. W. Walters, at Waitoa, Mr. Fred Strange, at Mangaiti, and Mr. J. Mackay, at Elstow. The visitors were entertained by members of the
Next morning (Monday, 18th November) found the travellers in quite another part of the province, the north Kaipara and northern Wairoa country, after a smooth night run.
After breakfast the party went on from Kirikopuni to Tango-wahine; thence there was a run by motor cars to the metropolis of the northern Wairoa, the town of Dargaville, crossing the great river by the new bridge. The Commerce Train made history by being the first to carry passengers over the ten miles of new line between Kirikopuni and Tangowahine. It was predicted by Public Works officials that the remaining seven miles to Dargaville would be completed in a year's time.
There was a hearty welcome from the Mayor of Dargaville, Mr. F. A. Jones, and the president of the Chamber of Commerce, Mr. W. Whitmore, and more cordial greetings came at Ruawai, where the travellers were entertained at lunch by the Otamatea County Council and settlers. Mr. Rodney Coates, the County Chairman, was the chief spokesman.
Hokianga County Council.
Left to Right: Messrs. W. H. Kirkpatrick, R. E. Hornblow (president), N. J. Doherty, F. J. Pender.
From a hill at Rehia, there was a remarkable panorama, the look-out over this great reclaimed swamp land of Ruawai. Once this area, 30,000 acres, was nothing but a great marsh; now it was drained and settled, and this season it is expected the local dairy factory will turn out from 800 to 900 tons of butter.
A particularly interesting speech was made at Ruawai by Mr. L. A. Paish, Commissioner of Trade for Great Britain, who had just arrived from London and was greatly pleased to find New Zealand so far advanced in industry. “It had sometimes been said,” he told the audience, “that there was a danger of over-production, but there was little danger on that score. The imports of butter into Britain were at the rate of 6,000 tons a week, of which New Zealand supplied 1,500 tons.” They could aim at securing more of the balance supplied by the other countries, and this applied also to other produce. In this endeavour the Empire Marketing Board was going to be of great assistance.
After a day and an evening of the most generous hospitality and most pleasant of speeches, the men of commerce had a day in the wilds, motoring through the grand and ancient forests of the Northland. The first part of the journey was by train from Dargaville up the Kaihu Valley—once a great kauri - timber working district — to the railhead at Donnelly's Crossing, thence there was a motor car procession through the Waipoua State Forest to the western parts of the Hokianga county. For mile after mile the way was among the trees, greatest of all was the kauri. It was explained that no exploitation has been carried out in the forest proper (24,000 acres), and none is contemplated until it is found possible and practicable to regenerate the present stands of kauri. For this purpose Waipoua has been created a forest experiment station, and will be used for the purpose of testing the possibility and practicability of extending the range of the kauri over areas where it is not at present growing—namely, on the barren gum-lands surrounding the forest. When the kauri pine first caught the eye of the visitor, it was seen that the forest contained all of the native pines, such as rimu, miro, white-pine, totara, cedar, tanekaha, silver-pine, and matai. Most of these species are very numerous in their seedling stages in the portion of the forest lying to the east of the main road.
The largest kauri in the forest was seen near the main road in the northern part of the reserve. It measures 49ft. in girth at the middle of the
“Here The Dairying Country Is A Richer Denmark.”
Top: A Northern clearing. Centre: Emerging from the marvellous Mangamuka Valley. Below: Colonel Allen Bell (right) welcomes the General Manager of Railways (Mr. H. H. Sterling).Pakcha fossickers who used to scale many a kauri for the sake of obtaining the kauri gum in the branch forks.
At Waimamaku, south Hokianga Harbour, there was a halt for the settlers’ welcome, and a hearty greeting it was, led by the Hokianga County Chairman, Mr. A. C. Yarborough. There were
Overflowing Hospitality Of The North.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Kaitaia's Banquet to the Visitors.
There was much to be seen this day (Wednesday, 20th November), around the Kaikohe-Waimate country, the pleasant lands of Taiamai. The principal trip of the morning was to the Ngawha hot springs, between Kaikohe and Ohaeawai. Here there are boiling springs, warm pools, boiling mud pools and most of the thermal phenomena of Rotorua. A company is now busy there making preparations to develop the working of cinnabar, in which some of these springs abound.
An unfortunate happening here, a tragically sudden end to a useful life, was the death from heart disease of Mr. W. M. Passmore, an Auckland business man. He collapsed and died on the morning's excursion to Ngawha; the exertion of the walk to and from the cars was too much for his weakened heart. His friends of the Commerce Train attended at the railway station next morning for a reverent and regretful farewell to the remains of a much-liked member of the touring party.
In the afternoon there was a quiet visit to the annual Agricultural and Pastoral Show at Waimate North. This was the forty-second annual show. As the visitors approached in cars driven by Kaikohe settlers, they were impressed by the richness of the pastures and the charm of the old English mission settlement. They appreciated, too, the quality of the exhibits, which demonstrated well the resources of this district of good soil and mild climate.
The visitors were next driven to Okaihau, and before dinner were taken on a Public Works train over seven miles of half-made railway down to the rich Waihou Valley, towards Rangiahua. It was noted that there were great difficulties in construction
The Kopa Maori.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Top: When the pie was opened. Centre: Strange food—fingers before forks. Below: Maori cooking.“An Eden For The Tired And The Retired.”
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Top: Famous Keri Keri, scene of the first wooden and brick buildings in New Zealand. Centre: Whangaroa Harbour, the glory of the east coast of New Zealand's Northland. Below: Commerce Train party entertained by residents at Willow Bay, Whangaroa.
Later, the visitors were entertained at dinner in the Y.M.C.A. hall at Waimate. Mr. A. Wigmore, president of Okaihau Chamber of Commerce, presided over a large gathering. “We want population here,” said the chairman, “and we hope you will help us to get more settlers. After this tour you will be satisfied that it is not the ‘poor North,’ but the ‘rich North.’ The climate is better than that of any country in the world, yet vast areas
A Northern Holiday.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Scenes at Waimate North Showgrounds during visit of the Commerce Train party.
Here, at Waimate, amidst rural scenes of a most satisfying comfort and charm, where cattle and sheep, and grain, grass, and fruit all thrive and flourish exceedingly, the travellers saw many reminders of the heroic era in pioneering. The missionary came inland here before the trader or soldier. The prettiest and most productive parts are those pioneered by the mission families. Waimate, Pakaraka, and surrounding places bear strong impress of the hands of the early apostles of the Churches—the Williams brothers, Selwyn, Davis, Burrows, and their contemporaries and successors. Shingle-roofed churches of antique design, stoutly built of heart of kauri and totara, stand amidst lordly groves of oaks and elms; around their doors the graves of the white pioneers and Maori warrior chiefs.
Waimate churchyard in particular is a place to take the eye and the fancy. The mission station dates back to the year 1830; its centenary is to be celebrated on this 12th of January by the erection of a lych-gate at the churchyard and by placing a tablet in the interior of the church in commemoration of the Rev. Samuel Marsden and the early missionaries. Here at Waimate is the oldest oaktree in New Zealand; it was originally grown from an English acorn planted at Paihia and transplanted to this mission farm in 1831.
In the afternoon, going from Waimate to Okaihau Station, the travellers’ cars skirted Lake Omapere, notable because it is the largest of the very few sheets of fresh water north of Auckland. Omapere is shallow; it is two and three-quarter miles in length and two miles in width; the area 2,880 acres; its surface is 750ft. above sea-level. It is proposed to generate electrical power for the district at the swift outlet, the Rere-a-tiki, which is the source of the Utakura River, flowing into Hokianga Harbour.
The welcomes and entertainments to the Commerce Train Pilgrims became even more warmhearted as the party moved northward. With feelings of gratitude to the kindly people of Kaikohe and Okaihau for their generous hospitality, and their sympathy for the loss of a member of the party, the delegates went on to Kaitaia, a 60 miles drive. Leaving the train at Okaihau, the motor route lay through the fertile Waihou Valley to Rangiahua, where the party stayed for morning
“In the shade of the whispering trees…“—Chas. Kingsley.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Kauri tree and Maori climber in Waipoua Forest.
Mr. Malcolm Stewart, Vice-President of the Auckland Chamber, said the visitors had been deeply impressed by the resources of the district. He understood that the local butter output was over 1,000 tons from over 400 suppliers, also that Kaitaia swamp land was being drained, which would provide from 10,000 to 15,000 more acres for dairying on what was known as one-cow land.
Mr. A. P. Crane, of Whangarei, gave his reminiscences of the early days in the Far North.
He suggested that the executive of the Northern Chambers of Commerce should organise a return visit to Auckland and to Southern districts. He praised the energy and courage of the pioneer farmers, and particularly the women of Mangonui County.
Mr. W. Alexander, formerly of Invercargill, spoke of the pleasure of his first visit North, and said he could not pay a greater compliment than to compare the quality of the land favourably with that of older settled Southland.
Friday the 22nd was a day in a lifetime for members of the Commerce Train party. Nothing
pohutukawa on the cliffs above the waters of Whangaroa Harbour. Arriving from Kaitaia via Mangonui, the visitors were met at Totara North, a settlement on the North shore of Whangaroa and conveyed in launches around the harbour. The cruise terminated at Willow Bay, a sheltered cove just inside the heads. Here some hundreds of residents were assembled, and straightway they escorted the guests to a hangi—the Maori steam-oven, in the earth—prepared for the occasion.
“The monster of the forest o'ershading all that under him would grow.”—Dryden.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The biggest tree in Waipoua—49 feet in girth.
For the benefit of visitors the whole process was demonstrated. On top of the heated stones were placed leaves, and on these a plentiful supply of pipi shellfish, kingfish, snapper, kumara, potatoes and onions; these were covered with damp cloth, wet sacks and earth.
So as not to delay the feast, and, having regard to the hurried nature of the visit, another hangi had been stocked with food a couple of hours earlier, and from this the guests were invited to help themselves into flax baskets prepared on the spot for the occasion. Staid city men, as well as more youthful members of the party, entered heartily into the spirit of the occasion, and sat Maori fashion around the great oven.
The ladies provided a delicious supplementary luncheon of pakeha cooking. It was a feast carried out on a lavish scale, and never was such more heartily relished.
After a delightful hour or so, Mr. Malcolm Stewart, Vice-President of the Chamber of Commerce, expressed hearty thanks to the residents, making special mention of the ladies and the Maoris who had assisted in the cooking. Cheers were given for each group in turn.
From Whangaroa the party were motored by settlers of Whangaroa County to Kerikeri, on a tidal river of the Bay of Islands. Here a visit was made to the experimental plot of the North Auckland Land Development Corporation, where 76 elevated sections have been sold for fruit farming on the group settlement plan, the holders having come from China, India and other parts during the past year. Ten houses have been built, 16,000 passion fruit vines have been planted, also 20,000 sweet orange, lemon, mandarin and grape
Afternoon tea was provided by the ladies of the settlement in the central homestead, charmingly set in flower gardens, and within view of Rainbow Falls, about to be harnessed to provide power and lighting for the settlement.
At the historic Kerikeri village the visitors saw the two oldest buildings in New Zealand—the mission house, built in 1819, and the stone store, built in 1833.
A Favourite New Zealand Health Resort.
The Government Spa at Te Aroha, famous for its mineral waters. The hot baths delighted the Commerce Train party.
Private cars from Kawakawa and Waimate North carried the visitors to Kawakawa in time for dinner. Over fifty cars were used in the three stages of the journey from Kaitaia to Kawakawa this day.
At Kawakawa township there was another warm greeting, voiced first by Mr. George Leity, President of the Kawakawa Chamber of Commerce at a smoke social. He spoke of the history of mining in the district, and said that the coal seams had merely been scratched. Capital alone was needed for development, not only in mining, but also in freezing works and other primary industries.
Mr. Malcolm Stewart, replying to the toast, expressed thanks for the hospitality extended to the party, and explained the objects of the tour. Those who had come would in future be “boosters” for the wonderful North. The Auckland Chamber of Commerce would do all that was possible to assist the farming industry with a view to bringing about greater production.
The toast of the “New Zealand Railways” was given by Mr. G. W. Smith, who praised the Railways Management and thanked Mr. Sterling for the attention given to local requests. Railway officials realised that they were running a huge business, and it was a pleasure to work with them.
Responding, Mr. Sterling expressed satisfaction that local difficulties had been unravelled. The Railways stood as a bulwark against excessive transport costs, and he hoped they would continue to give satisfaction to the people of the Dominion.
Mr. D. Rodie, Railways Commercial Manager, said it was the endeavour of his branch to get into touch with commercial men and the people in both town and country in order to provide the best possible facilities for all. They did not sit “on
The toast, “Trade Commissioners,” was proposed by Mr. C. F. C. Miller, chairman of the Bay of Islands Hospital Board, who expressed pleasure with the visit to the North.
Mr. J. W. Collins, secretary of the Department of Industries and Commerce, expressed great pleasure with what he had seen of the North, and suggested that local people should submit proposals for opening up the coal fields.
A Favourite Meeting Place.
Parlour Car of the Commerce Train.
Mr. L. A. Paish (Great Britain), replied for the Commissioners. What the North needed, he said, was more capital and more production, and to get these they needed more publicity.
The final day of the tour in the North (Saturday, 23rd November), was spent in and around Whangarei, the largest town in North Auckland. The rural beauty of the good country in rear of the town charmed the visitors’ eyes, and the whole district impressed the travellers as a region of fertility, comfort and prosperity.
The final social gathering for talk and song was held at Whangarei on the Saturday night. The Mayor of Whangarei, Mr. W. Jones, presided, and said many pleasant things about the visitors.
Replying, Mr. Merritt, President of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce, expressed gratitude for the warmth of the Northern welcome. The tour had been harmonious and in every way successful. They did not come on a joy ride, but to get to know the people and the problems of the country, and he knew of no better way to do this than by such tours.
The toast of “Local Bodies” was proposed by Mr. E. Casey, Divisional Superintendent of Railways, who spoke in eulogy of the priceless service which was being rendered to the Dominion by members of local bodies from North Cape to the Bluff. In Whangarei the hand of friendship had always been readily extended and he wished the town the prosperity it deserved.
Mr. J. A. Finlayson, chairman of the Whangarei Harbour Board, said one of the most pleasant memories he would carry away from public life would be the friendly relationships which had existed between the Harbour Board and the Railways Department. To show how Whangarei was progressing, he said that in 1919, before the advent of the railway, the harbour revenue was £3,000. “Since the railway has come to take our trade away, our revenue has gone up to nearly £14,000 a year, which shows that the goods and produce are here to be carried.”
Hunting The Wily Toheroa.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Top: Gathering for the hunt at Kaitaia. Centre: Discovering the biting end. Below: Though many dig, America gets the gallery—Julian B. Foster (United States Trade Commissioner) digging for toheroa on the 90-mile Beach.
Mr. Crawford said that in the great North Auckland peninsula there were 3,000,000 acres of first-class and good second-class land. With the sub-tropical climate and an average annual rainfall of 63.87 inches, feed was abundant. There was no need to grow winter feed, and in the North, unlike the South, it was rare to see a stack of hay. In the last dairying season the total amount paid out for butterfat in North Auckland was £1,817,600, an increase of £479,675 over the total of the previous year, and an average return of 10s. per acre counting all land in North Auckland, good, bad and indifferent. Returns from other primary industries brought the total annual income to over £2,000,000.
“The success of the first two tours justifies the suggestion for an annual tour.” The President of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce expressed this view at a happy valedictory gathering on the train at Whangarei. Members of Chambers in other parts of New Zealand expressed their gratitude for the opportunity of joining in the tour and said they had been so impressed as to welcome the thought that it might be possible for representatives of their respective districts to join in future tours. A special vote of thanks was conveyed to Mr. H. H. Sterling and his staff for the successful working of the tour.
The Men Who Organised And Carried Through The Commerce Train Tour.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The General Manager of Railways. Mr. H. H. Sterling (centre), with the officers and train crew associated in the Commerce Train tour.
Mr. Malcolm Stewart, Vice-President of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce, told his interviewer on his return to Auckland that he was greatly impressed with what he had seen and was convinced that dairy production in North Auckland would increase at a greater rate than in any other part of New Zealand. Farmers were now getting better results by means of top-dressing, rotational grazing and herd testing. With their mild winters, abundant supply of water and paspalum grass for summer feed, farmers of the North were greatly aided by Nature. The northern portion of the peninsula, too, possessed wonderful scenic attractions in the Trounson Kauri Park, Waipoua Forest, the Mangamuka Gorge, the great West Coast Beach and the two harbours of Whangaroa and Bay of Islands.
Members of the party were full of thanks to the residents of North Auckland for their great hospitality not only in arranging delightful functions at all places visited, but also for so generously providing motor cars in which to drive the travellers through districts away from the railway lines.
The travellers also commended the enterprise of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce in promoting such tours and expressed unstinted admiration for the efficiency displayed by all branches of the Railways Department in carrying out the tours.
Wit And Humour
This story is told about one of our most noted stationmasters:
There was only one hose at the station, and the porter whose duty it was to keep things properly washed down had got tired of repairing it. He was in despair when he saw it left lying in front of a fast approaching shunting engine, but he failed to catch the driver's eye in time, so the hose was damaged beyond repair.
The Power Of Suggestion.
Wife of Biscuit-Barrel Motorist: “That reminds me Harold—what Is this inferiority complex?”
Sometime later, on this unlucky day, the same porter was in the parcels office, where a package of fish was stored. The fish was rather past its prime, but the occupants of the office had got used to it. The Stationmaster, however, coming in from the fresh air, was assailed by the strong smell, and, after glaring belligerently, enquired sarcastically of the porter: “Haven't you got a nose?” He was made speechless by the astonishing reply: “No, sir, it was run over this afternoon.”
* * *
School Inspector: “Would any of you boys like to ask me a question?”
Pupil (fed up): “Please sir, what time does your train go?”
* * *
For Writing Poems.
Highgate Magistrate (when a poet appeared in the dock): “Do you know his record as a poet?”
Warder: “He has been convicted several times!”
“Do you really love me, ‘Erbert?”
“O’ course I do!”
“Then why don't yer chest go up and down like the men on the films?”
* * *
“Look pleasant, please,” said the photographer to his (more or less) fair sitter.
Click! “It's all over, ma'am. You may resume your natural expression.”
* * *
He was Worried.
On his way home from school, Tommy looked sad and worried.
“Dear me” exclaimed a sympathetic old lady, “whatever is troubling you, my little man?”
“Dyspepsia and rheumatism,” replied Tommy.
“Oh, surely not,” said the old lady; “how can that be?”
“Teacher caned me ‘cause I couldn't spell them,” answered Tommy dismally.
* * *
“What kind of tyres do you prefer, balloon or high pressure?”
“I like balloons better, as a matter of fact.”
“What kind of car have you?”
“I haven't any car; I'm a pedestrian.”
* * *
Wife: “Oh, George, that little thief of a servant we discharged yesterday has stolen our best towels!”
Hubby: “Which ones were they, dear?”
Wife: “The ones we took from that hotel we stopped at in Wanganui!”
H. Collett.)
Outside, in the compound, the night's frost is still lying white and thickly, for the sun has not yet arisen; it is only a little after five o'clock. The day is full of promise, a promise of sun-gold and glory, for the second monsoon has long since passed along its way.
Even now, early as it is, numerous bands are busy playing “their” Christmas Carols—all play the one tune, “Queen, Queen Caroline,” but who cares? To-day is that of “Peace on the Earth, Goodwill to Man,” and the native bandsmen are demanding their right to participate—who shall deny them? At the bottom of it all is magic “buksheesh”—why not? Today is the “Sahib Logue's great day of rejoicing—their Day of Days.”
All last week the servants had spent much time in their preparation for decorative effect—bouquets and garlands are artistically arranged throughout the bungalow—festoons of crimson and green poinsettia leaves, alternately, gaily drape and brighten the walls—hang in beautifully quaint designs across the porches and gateways. The servants have all got their little gifts for the “Baba Logue” and are eager to distribute these, to be the first to give—such is the wonderful spirit of Christmas.
How many “grown-ups'” memories are fleeting back to the days and scenes of their childhood this morning?—a snow-clad earth—crimson daybreak—log fires blazing merrily in open hearths—holly, mistletoe, laughter—faces, love-lit, recalled they may never see again. They are exiles in a foreign land, counting the days—nay, the hours—to next “furlough” that will enable them once more to visit the “Mecca” of their hopes—“Home.” These are the outriders of empyrean greatness—members of the greatest Empire the world has ever yet known—sons and daughters of the “Great Mother,” Britain, fulfilling their birthright. To-Day, Christmas Day, is theirs—To-Morrow will belong to Empire.
Christmas Day is essentially, and above all others, “Children's Day.” Not for long will these remain as “Children,” soon the “Great Mother” will call to them—they will not be found wanting, but ready to take up the burden of their glorious inheritance—Empire.
A sleepy father stirs in bed; then, rolls over, intending to have another “forty winks.” Next moment he is wide awake, he has heard the strains of “Queen, Queen Caroline,” and suddenly remembered this is Christmas Day.
“Dear me,” he thinks, “here is Christmas again, how the time does fly, it does not seem like twelve months gone by so soon.”
His train of thought is sharply broken—a sudden flurry across the room—a cuddling form hurtles alongside him—a pair of softly clinging arms are around his neck—he is peremptorily kissed—a tiny voice lisps “A Merwy Krismiss, see w'at Farver Santy has gived me?”
Eyes, still dusked with sleep, beam into his from beneath a mop of rumply, curly hair—a pair of rosy, dewy lips smile in deep content while dimpled arms and hands hold up “Muver's” biggest stocking—it had demanded careful selection too—filled to the brim by “Darling Santa Claus.”
How many sleep-laden eyes had striven to keep open so as to catch “Santy” in the act—how many sharp ears had listened in vain for his arrival last night? The “Dustman's knock” had prevailed—“Santy” had come and gone un-caught again.
There is the “Christmas Tree,” resplendent in every variety of toys. Mother spent hours decorating it correctly—watched by brilliantly expectant eyes whose owners thought intricate thoughts and built those grand “castles in the air” that are the absolute prerogative of childhood. Nothing that it is possible to obtain has been overlooked—“holly” brought down from Darjiling or Simla—“mistletoe” from Mussoorie or Naini Tal—apples that were grown in Afghanistan. All that can be has been done to make it as like to Christmas at “Home” as is possible.
There comes the postman. Oh, what delight. Children rush to greet him with shricks of merriment, at every bungalow. “Postie's” face is wreathed in smiles of reciprocity—he knows
The tables are laden with cakes of every variety; the king of these is “Mother's Christmas Cake,” the cake in the making of which all were allowed to assist—so long as they kept whistling. To-night will come the best fun of it all—the “blazing plum pudding” and “snap-dragon”—the dodging of the “mistletoe-forfeit.” Father will surely tell them some lovely stories too—stories of “fairies” and “goblins”—and these will surely come sneaking and prowling among the dark shadows in the corners again, but unable to do any hurt—father and mother will be present.
Last night—Christmas Eve—the children had been permitted to stay up late. The larger “European Stores” had arranged a carnival for them, and thousands of invitations were issued. The grounds were beautifully laid out to represent fairy dells, grottoes, woods, and the like. Countless Chinese lanterns swung through the scene merrily, lending
Luxury In The Wilds Of Tongariro National Park.
(Rly. Publicity Photo.)
The Chateau Tongariro (officially opened on 4th November, 1929), shewing the fine view of the active volcano, Mt. Ngauruhoe (7,515ft.), to be obtained from the portico of the building.
There were “lucky-dips” to be tried out, roulette wheels to be spun—all prizes and no blanks. Rose scented fountains sparkled and played everywhere under the brilliant illuminations; military bands, lent for the occasion, added their quota of music to the revelry of the night. From this jubilation the “little ones” had departed for their homes cuddling their presents; happy, contented, heavy with sleep to keep watch against the arrival of their real “Santa Claus” via the “chimney route.”
“Queen, Queen Caroline.”
To Anglo-Indians this tune must ever be sacred, its memories and associations are imperishable. It represents a part of their lives—is a part of themselves.
“A Merry Christmas!”
, Dip. Ed.)W. S. Dale , M.A.
In the following article Mr. Dale continues his elaboration of the theory of modern industrial psychology and states some interesting facts relative to the importance of fatigue as affecting output.
Note the physical and mental condition of factory operatives at “knock-off” time. The individuals exhibit a remarkable range in activity. There are some who are, apparently, “dog-tired,” there are some who seem reasonably fresh, while intermediate stages of fatigue between these extremes can be readily distinguished. Fatigue, as is generally defined, is the deadly enemy of both operative and employer. To the former it means the inability to enjoy leisure, while the latter realises that fatigue means a lessened output.
Scientifically, we are only now beginning to acquire precise knowledge about fatigue, but, even at the present stage of investigation, we know very little of the cumulative effects which seem so painfully evident in most industrial centres. What we do know, however, is that fatigue may be considered as a mental or as a physiological phenomenon.
Mentally, fatigue has been experienced by most of us. It comes as a feeling of tiredness or weariness, but it has a wide range of intensity, from sheer boredom to neurasthenia. Research in England during the war period, when factories were working at greatest pressure, showed only too clearly that fatigue at the most intense degree was responsible for the numerous cases of nervous breakdown. How far the mental state is the effect of the physiological condition it is not possible to say directly, as conflicting theories have been put forward by respective supporters with all the enthusiasm possible.
Physiologically, fatigue is much more easily recognised as a state of bodily exhaustion, a feeling of being “done-up” and requiring a rest. The explanation of this, too, is more easily given than that for the mental aspect. The state is brought about by the piling up of fatigue-toxins, which the blood cannot remove. These toxins are the residue of inorganic matter and used-up matter of the cells of the body. These chemical wastes are, in ordinary circumstances, immediately carried away by the blood, but if the blood stream becomes too heavily laden, the poison accumulates so that the individual requires rest to allow the blood to catch up on the job, as it were.
When research noted this poisoning of the bloodstream, laboratory methods were devised to find out more about the connection between work and fatigue. Mosso perfected a small machine, which demonstrated beyond all doubt that fatigue was one of the greatest handicaps labour had to face. The machine was a simple contrivance, which demanded what was known technically as “work” by an isolated group of muscles. The machine, called an Ergograph, has since been modified and improved, but as the principle involved is the same in all machines, we may, with profit, describe it. (See Fig. 1.)
The arm is clamped in so that free arm movement is impossible; the first and third fingers are inserted in cases, which hold them firmly and so prevent movement there. The middle finger is left quite free to move in any way. When the experiment starts, the finger is inserted in a sheath attached to a wire, which runs over pulleys, to be attached to the weight. Every time the finger is raised (i.e., doing work) the weight is lifted. The contractions are continued until the finger is fatigued. By changing the weights, different conditions can be attained, and the amount of
This experiment threw considerable light on work and fatigue relationship; moreover, it established a new principle, that of pauses in work. Hitherto, pauses were not recognised as a necessity in work. Employers called it slacking, and the operative, anxious to keep his job, did not dare to slack. Mosso proved that more work could be done by taking longer rests between movements than by working continuously until fatigue set in. From what has been written earlier the reason will be obvious. Longer rest periods permit the blood to
Figure I.
Mosso's Ergograph.
This insistence on rest periods is not yet general. Recently, in making an examination of some of the larger stores of one town, the writer noted the number of chairs which were not used. Girls behind counters have seats provided, but apparently rarely use them. Nor are these girls given rest periods off so that a real rest can be secured. It has been asserted that the sight of girls sitting down gives a bad impression to customers; that girls are not working hard enough to require rest; that the firm has never considered rest periods—there are many similar excuses.
The next step to show the result of fatigue, (See Fig. 2.) I shall select from the workshop experiments of Gilbreth, who, by-the-way, probably stands as the ideal scientific investigator. His idea was to co-ordinate the relation between fatigue, time and motion. Explained simply it meant that, under workshop conditions, what was the connection between fatigue, picking up weights, placing them down, and the movements necessary to complete the operation. The operation was timed in three sections, viz., time from starting to picking up weight, length of time from picking up to depositing, and length of time to recover an upright position. The experiment proved that the time of motions of different lengths is practically the same, unless those of the same length are consecutively repeated. The quantity of work that can be done in a day is, of course, much less with long motions than with short ones, due to extra time needed to overcome the fatigue of the long motions.
Having thus shown that laboratory methods give point to the statement that fatigue is wasteful in industry, turn now to the workshop for a consideration of the application of fatigue-saving principles. In the first article it was stressed that psychology in business aimed at getting the maximum output from the minimum of effort. Assuming that this is the aim, as I believe from personal investigation in the Railway Workshops, what steps should be taken to ensure that this aim is to be attained? First, education must be carried out. It must not be
The most obvious of all factors is the unit of work. We have passed legislation for an eight-hour day, which is, at least a beginning. Many employers, with a rush of work, immediately commence overtime rates. The worker, in most cases, welcomes the opportunity to make more money. In the light of what has been written, examine the result. Longer hours mean a greater measure of fatigue, with a resultant slowing up of real work output, to say nothing of errors causing a waste of material in the shop, as well as the increased cost of such inferior labour. This is not theory, but has been substantiated by enquiries as to the output by workers where overtime is almost habitual. Wharf labourers have admitted that the overtime work is less efficient in both quantity and quality than that performed during the work-unit. This statement can be verified by entering a departmental store late on a Friday night; the attention, courtesy, and service generally fall below the usual standard, not because the assistants so will it, but because fatigue, both mental and physical, is present in a large degree.
Figure II.
This illustration shews the floor space measured up to give exact data as to distance; weight on adjustable table to establish relationship between weight and height (this also enables studies in motion to be made); clocks to measure time, etc. (these measure up to 1-1,000th of a second); and cells used to give current to the apparatus for experiments.
In support of the contention that shorter hours really mean a greater output, a case may be quoted from Engineering, Oct. 6th, 1916, pp. 331–332. In a factory where surgical dressings were made a number of female operatives were engaged as “winders” for yarn. The operation is one requiring considerable dexterity, and constant attention in the piecing up of broken threads. The hours of work were from 6 to 8 a.m. 8.30 to 12.30, 1.30 to 5.30, and overtime from 6 to 8 o'clock in the evening. One operative, a single woman of 32 years of age, persistently refused to work before breakfast or after 5.30, declaring that the additional rest enabled her to turn out more than if she worked the whole twelve hours. When her claim was investigated, a month's output was compared with three other first-class hands who worked twelve hours a day for two weeks, and ten hours a day for two weeks. The so-called slacker, who worked only eight hours a day, won hands down. In addition to cutting out work from 6–8 a.m. and 6–8 p.m., she also stayed away the whole of one working day and three half-days, yet her output for the period was 52,429 bobbins as against an average of 48,529 for the three first-class workers who worked full time. The best of her three competitors had an output of 51,641, for which she worked about 237 hours, as against the 160 hours worked by the shorttimer. This effectually disposes of the theoretical use of overtime to secure greater output. It does show, too, that it is inadvisable for the employee to continue to work after a certain number of hours have been put in at the job.
The next aspect of the fatigue problem must then be that which concerns the work-unit. If the factory can prevent an accumulation of fatigue-toxins in the bodies of the workers, who is to benefit, and how can this result be brought about?
Considering the last part of the question first, there are four fundamental parts; (a) conditions
If you look round a large city you will note that the tendency is to set up factories on the best possible site; if it is not a feasible plan to convert the factory site into a park-like condition, then a move is made to the outer fringe of the city. Bourneville, outside Birmingham, and Port Sunlight, close to Birkenhead, England, are examples of this development. Coming nearer home, there is a splendidly lit, spacious factory abutting on to Myers Park, in Auckland, while the main entrance to the N.Z. Railway Shops at Otahuhu gives promise of being a lead in such matters to the North Island, if not to New Zealand. Unthinking persons, or those employers who worked in old-time factories prior to setting up for themselves, decry the new movement, for they fail to see the psychological effect of such outward and visible signs of care; but the operatives benefit considerably. Within the modern factory the maxim must be order and neatness, absence
When The Lunch Whistle Blows.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Employees at lunch in the well-appointed dining room at the Department's new workshops in the Hutt Valley, Wellington. About 300 men sit down to lunch daily in this bright and airy room, their luncheon requirements being attended to (on the quick lunch principle) by an efficient staff under the control of the Refreshment Branch. A feature of these daily luncheons is a programms of excellent musical items played by the Workshops Orchestra.
In the next contribution figures and examples of this noise principle will be quoted.
Gaiety under a Canopy of Cloured Lights and Streamers
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Plain and Fancy Dress Carnival Dance held in the Hutt Valley Workshops Social Hall on 26th November 1929. This was organised by the Workshops Social Committee (Messrs. C. O'Shea (Chariman), H. G. B. Du Faur (Hon. Secretary). F. C. E. Parr, W. J. P. Neil, J. W. Graham, H. G. Sloan, J. R. Maguire
“Here's New Year greetings, hearty and sincere, to reader friends everywhere. The year which has just drawn to a close has witnessed real progress on railways the world over, and railwaymen, alike in New Zealand and in the Homeland, have genuine cause for pride in the accomplishments of the past twelve months.“—Our Special London Correspondent in his New Year Contribution.
Issue by issue the pages of the New Zealand Railways Magazine have told, throughout 1929, of the many and varied achievements of the eighteen thousand railway employees scattered on the various tracks lying between Opua and the Bluff, while in these “London Letters” have been recorded the outstanding items of interest concerning railway construction and operation in Britain and Europe generally.
Reviewing the railway position in Europe at the close of 1929, one finds the Home railways effectively established as group undertakings, with generally increasing traffics and a bright future ahead. The competition of the road carrier is largely being met; electrification is being extended in the London and Manchester areas; motive power is being steadily improved; passenger and freight train services speeded up; and improved connections have been introduced with continental railway systems. Across the Channel, the railways of western and central Europe have effected vast improvements in almost every department during 1929. Through the activities of the transportation section of the League of Nations, irksome frontier barriers have been removed, Customs operations speeded up, and better through international services opened out for both passengers and merchandise. Even in Russia, some progress has been effected in the railway field in the year which has just drawn to a close, and, altogether, the coming months seem to hold genuine prosperity for all the European railways. Especially does this appear likely on account of the admirable manner in which railway managements and railway employees are now pulling together in the common cause. At long last, the European railwayman has come to recognise the fundamental truth that only through whole-hearted co-operation and unstinting teamwork can railway prosperity be achieved, and that upon the prosperity of the undertaking depends the prosperity of the individual worker and the well-being of his family.
There are many big improvement schemes now about to be tackled by the Home railways. Probably the most interesting of these is the removal of the Southern Railway's Charing Cross terminal in London, from the north to the south bank of the River Thames. The question of the transfer of this important passenger station across the river has for some years been under review, and in 1930 it is probable that work will be begun thereupon. Charing Cross is situated in the very centre of London, the original station being opened in 1866. By the removal of the station to the south bank of the Thames, a great deal of congestion will be avoided in the Strand and neighbouring streets, while underground electric railways and road motors will afford connection between the new
The new Charing Cross station will be placed close to the extensive Waterloo terminal of the Southern line, and the effect of the transfer will be that all the important main-line passenger
From London to the West Country.
Plymouth Express leaving Paddington Station, London. (Locomotive, “The Great Bear.“)
Probably the electrification of Liverpool Street station and the adjacent suburban routes will be the first big conversion project to be tackled in the London area. Plans have already been prepared in the rough for this work, but, as a Government inquiry now is to be undertaken into the economic possibilities of electrification throughout Britain generally, it may be some time before a definite decision is reached regarding the Liverpool Street project.
There is no doubt that problems associated with the building up of the four big railway groups out of the large number of independent concerns once operated in Britain has retarded progress in electrification at Home. Now that most of these problems have been met, a marked increase in electrification activity may be expected, both on the main lines and the principal city and suburban routes. Broadly speaking, the prime problem to be met is the question of finance. Electrification calls for heavy initial expenditure, and it is right that due consideration should be given to this factor. At the same time, it is not unlikely that Government assistance will be forthcoming to the railways in their electrification plans, for the conduct of work of this character would do much to provide employment, both for skilled workers and unskilled labourers. From the viewpoint of the traveller, electric operation has a great deal to commend it, and the experience of the Southern Railway in its extensive electrification works in the London area has shown how electric operation favours traffic growth.
In, say, twenty years or so, it is not unlikely that electric trains and road motors will be the
Rail and Road Co-Ordination in Britain.
A Southern Railway Road Motor loading from a railway wagon.
In the field of railway-owned road motor transport, two items of current interest stand out above others. One is the partial closing of the Broadstone terminal in Dublin as a railway passenger station and its conversion into an omnibus garage, while the other is the development by the Southern Railway of England of a new “door-to-door” collection and delivery service, under which freight is collected and delivered by road motor within distances of ten miles from selected railhead distribution depots. Broadstone station was one of the most important of Irish passenger stations, and its partial conversion into a motor garage is accounted for by the purchase by the Great Southern Railway of the Irish Omnibus Company. Under the new order, several of the tracks are being filled in, and road motor services will take the place of the train for almost all but long-distance working. The Southern Railway of England's new “door-to-door” service promises to become especially popular. The idea underlying the plan is that traffic is conveyed on rail by fast goods trains over long distances from the big manufacturing centres to the nearest distribution centre, where it is transferred to the Southern Railway motors and conveyed direct to destination. In the reverse direction, farm and dairy produce is collected by the railway motors, conveyed by road to railhead, and then sent on by fast goods train to destination—an efficient linking up of the two means of movement, each of which is the best in its own sphere.
During the present year large additions are to be made by the Home railways to their locomotive, carriage and wagon stocks. It is the usual practice in Britain for the railways to construct, in their own shops, a large proportion of their engines and rolling-stock, and in the various establishments scattered throughout the country there is now great activity. High-powered steam locomotives and high capacity freight wagons are among the new equipment being turned out, while much new passenger stock of a really luxurious order is also included in the building programmes.
Of all Home railway shops, most important are those of the L.M. & S. Railway at Crewe and Derby; the Doncaster locomotive works on the L. & N.E. line; the Great Western shops at Swindon; and the Eastleigh establishment of the Southern system. The railway shopman is one of
In many parts of the world it is common for a railway passenger to be called upon to pay an additional fee for travel by certain crack trains. In Europe “limited” trains have not until recently been operated in large numbers, but the practice of running this class of train now appears to be growing. Within the past year or so, Britain has put into service a number of trains which are only available for the passenger who is willing to pay a surcharge over the ordinary rail fare, most of these trains being especially luxurious or especially fast.
On the Continent the practice of charging an extra fare for travel by fast train is everywhere growing. In Italy, for example, one now finds no less than six distinct classes of passenger train. These are respectively the “Di Lusso,” the “Inter
A Hive of Locomotive Industry.
The vast machine shop at Crewe, Locomotive Works, England.
A Railway Sound Picture
The Pennsylvania News reports that “The Broadway Limited,” a moving picture film with sound effects just completed by the Pennsylvania Railroad, had its initial showing in Philadelphia, U.S.A., on 12th October, 1929. The new picture depicts a trip on the world famous P.R.R. flyer between New York, Philadelphia and Chicago, and reveals many of the interesting operating details which surround the movement of the train.
Jungle Law. Home Lovers should guard their Life-line.
Is the expansion of New Zealand cities to be increasingly outward or increasingly upward? Are we going to plant our people so that they will be forced to go storeys high to reach the free air, or shall we plant them farther apart, with the fresh air blowing freely all round them?
Observe a rimu sapling in the native bush of the Hutt River basin. You will need a fairly sharp eye to do this, because there are very few of them between the seedling and the grown-up. Seedlings are fairly plentiful, but in that intermediate stage which has just been termed sapling (say, between one inch and twelve inches diameter) the rimu hardly exists in this particular bush. One knows of just about one place where six or seven rimus form a little stand of foot-thick trees some 25ft. or 30ft. high. They are mostly slender trunks with a thin crown of foliage, poor-looking. Only a very few have struggled on even thus far in their grim fight with the jungle for a share of the light, for a place in the sun. Possibly the totaras make a better showing in the sapling stage, though there are few enough even of them. In fact, judged by this bush, the regenerative prospect of these too, great timber trees, is poor indeed.
But out in the open the totara grows wide and bushy. Where the farmer spares it, it grows in clumps on the farm; if the sub-divider spares it, it grows on the residential sections; and if the electric linesman is also merciful, it grows in the streets of the suburban boroughs, a spreading, deep green, massive tree.
The different habit of growth of bush trees out in the open, as compared with in their native thicket, where they are forced upward in the quest for light, could be exemplified in many other ways. The forester may say that trees must be in regulated competition in order to secure the upright growth that represents the best timber value. From a commercial point of view, this may be true. But, if they could speak, what would the trees say?
With the human, as with the vegetable growth, the same question arises. Possibly a considerable commercial case could be built up for herding people in cities; they would be near their work; living tier on tier, they would increase site values, etc. But where do the children grow the more freely and the more sturdily?
In the jungle Nature works along lines of the survival of the fittest. The struggle for light, it is said, eliminates the unfit. But is the fittest always the best? If one takes commerce's own standard of the best, then one sees that the best indigenous timber trees are not regenerating naturally in the bush. Left to Nature, the rimu-totara cycle seems to have exhausted itself.
Fitness may, indeed, be a question of environment and association. In an afforestation scheme the forester can alter the association and possibly modify all the conditions. There would then be a different standard of fitness. The law of the indigenous is not the law of the exotics.
And as the planting of people is at least as important as the planting of trees, the question again forces itself: Is the expansion of New Zealand cities to be increasingly outward or increasingly upward? Are people to be planted tier upon tier in flats, or thrown out laterally in “one-family homes,” scattered around the suburban radius?
Lately this question has been raised in a discussion between English observers of the Austian capital. Vienna is now the chief city of a Republic (the rump of a pre-war Empire) of 6,500,000 people, of which Vienna contains a third. To accommodate them better, this already over-swollen city has been building flats. Some people may have thought that post-war Vienna has not retained enough energy to do anything, but advocates of workers’ flats say that she has the finest specimens thereof in
The advocate of the “one-family house” takes the view that no amount of communal advantage places flats before it. “I do not believe (he writes) that barracks would suit English people; for the flowers, surely even the smallest garden is better than a window-box.”
To which the advocate of flats replies: “No doubt in the city of the future every family will occupy a house surrounded by a garden full of flowers,” but—“we must come down to brass tacks, and in the centre of great cities, such as London, where large numbers of workers must reside near their work, large buildings of flats are essential, owing to lack of space.”
So there you have basic agreement between the protagonists on the essential principle of one family, one home, with a reservation on one side dictated by immediate commercial considerations, real or apparent.
Is it even now sufficiently realised that in her urban and suburban building programmes New Zealand has already come to the parting of the ways—city flats or suburban dwellings?
Is it realised that society must look to transport for the chief restraining influence upon that commercialism which tends to centralise the workers in the city?
How the Railway Aids Settlement.
Development of settlement in the industrial area adjacent to the Railway Department's Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington, New Zealand.
That in New Zealand the most onerous and financially profitless (yet essential) part of transport's burden falls on the State railways that carry the working population to and from the suburbs at less-than-cost rates?
That publicly-owned transport, rails or rubber, is the life-line between the cities and a population that prefers to live outward and on the ground, but which, if it mistakes its true interests, may yet have to live within city limits and in flats, exchanging homing for herding?
In a young country more than an old one it is possible to exercise a shaping influence on an environment that will in turn become more and more a shaping influence on the new generation. A young country has more choice than an older country.
It has yet time to decide what sort of a growth it wants; what kind of crop, cultural as well as economic, to aim at; how to bring about conditions in which the fittest may also be the best. Shall the people be brought together in those jungles called cities, to climb over each others’ shoulders for a place in the sun, or shall each home have for itself that place, with its own air, winds, and trees, for the good of its own family?
Do not look on the long thin lines of transport as a mere accident. Rather regard them as the life-lines of a social order which we can reclaim or throw away. Their job stands out. Civilisation has none bigger.
”… the train swept on
Athrob with effort, trembling with resolve.“
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
The Commerce Train returning to Auckland from its memorable tour of the Northland.
Ken Alexander .)
Dear reader, this is the glad New Year—tra-la-la, so let's ignore the evolutionary evidence of sophomorical scientists regarding the geological genealogy of Terra Firma and accept the version of the Director of Dates and Measures to the effect that this is the nineteen hundred and thirtieth birthday of Old Man Earth. Let's tune in to the gas meter and hear what He thinks about it.
Let's quaff a bumper to Old Man Earth; after all, he has been very patient with us. We are proud of him, but we are more proud of those small bits of his cuticle which we inhabit pro tem.
“My Country ‘tis of thee.”
It is difficult to say with any academical exactitude who was the original perpetrator of this ambrosial ambiguity, but if it was not Theobold the Thug as he bit his native sod in
“Barnyard Stripling, the Pastoral Poet.”
But fully to digest the spirit of this dicephalous diffusion, it is necessary to escalate retrospectively to the earliest instance of daylight-slaving, consequent on Uncle Adam's paucity of perception in failing to swallow the core. The occasion, besides establishing the fact that it was the serpent who first slipped over the slogan “Eat More Fruit,” proved to be an ominous omen to man, who on account of Adam's failure to comply with the Orchard Act, was obliged to hitch up his hosiery and handle a hoe. Protestingly he proceeded to dig Old Man Earth in the ribs until he in his turn realised the necessity of hoisting his “holeproofs” and attending to his greengroceries, with the result that man plucked from his bosom herbaceous haberdashery both edible and elegant.
From this moment man experienced the psychological solecism, “Pride of Place,” and out of his uppishness, combined with this access of agricultural activity, there sprang towns, like corns on the cuticle of cultivation, or excrescences on the hands of husbandry, thus proving that the Town and Country are really one, the town being merely the country with its hat on.
To quote the quips of Barnyard Stripling, the pastoral poet:— Each is least and both are best, And ever the twain shall meet.
Speaking of hats, let us digress, dear reader. Mr. Winsome Chuckle, an eminent English statesman, has demonstrated frequently that a hat is a useful utensil for putting the lid on foreign relations, but even he cannot deny that it often weighs heavily on the mind, conceals the vegetation on the roof garden, and is prone to produce those wide open spaces on the dome which are the bane of barbers and often put the “mar” in marriage. How true is the ancient adage that freer than a misspent youth is a hatless thatch.
The Town is merely the Country with its hat on.”
Referring again to the fact that the town is merely the country with its hat on, we are reminded that the phrase “Rus in Urb” is no Bolshevik boast or vegetarian viand on a meatless menu; translated freely, and with abandon,
“His country-seat.”
“Rush in ‘Erb!” and is a standing invitation to Herbert of Herbertville, or even Bertie of Bowserville to foregather at his country seat among the wurzels, to feel his pulses pounding with primitive passion, his senses reeling with exotic ecstasy in the amorous atmosphere of the “wide and free,” where the frogs render their saxophonalian symphonies, where the cows cool their kneecaps in aqueous acquiescence, where haystacks stand patiently in the paddocks, and where the song of the separator, the incense of burning wood on the altar of arboreal affection, and the sound of little cowslips slipping, all lull him to a mental state bordering on paralysis of the inane.
And what of the town? Comparisons, dear reader, are ultra vires or ultra modern or something to this effect, and the best we can say of Town and Country is that there is a great deal to be said of both (as the fortuitous father remarked to the terrible twins). They both seem to say “I'll get you yet Coquette.” To burst into song again:—
Having skimmed lightly over the earth generally, let us return to New Zealand. What, proud reader, is it that has put the zeal into Zealand? You answer—and rightly so—“Pride of Place.” Certainly there exist pessimiscreants who would have us believe that New Zealand is Now Zooland, a jazz jungle inhabited by prowling bankrupts and howling saxophonists, but they suffer from solidity of the skull. While agreeing that this little lump of Antarctic erosion is not always a thing of beauty and a joy for weather we will defend it with our last postage stamp. Anyway, what of our oysters? Whatever else might fail us we always have our oysters to fall back on. If you have ever stepped on an undraped oyster, dear reader, you will know what I mean.
Even though you may not be a reckless roisterer or a bigoted bivalvist you must agree that an oyster, unless it is shell-shocked, is the most perfect lubricant for the oEsophagus yet produced by Nature. Bootless, dear reader (and sockless too, if you will), an oyster quiescent on a plate of vinegar might well serve as New Zealand's coat of arms.
“A great deal to be said of both.”
Hearken to the stout stanzas of Musselini Shelley, the restaurant reveller, in his famous oyster-opening chorus:—
“Experts simply inhale it.”
We fear, patient reader, that our many digressions may have left you more bemused
a first-class porter on the railway
January is the door to the magic garden of 1930; it stands the slightest bit ajar so that while we cannot discern the wonders it shelters we get a glimpse of a rosy mist which envelops it; our hearts are filled with expectation and hope as we peer in at the garden of alluroment, and we feel convinced that as the door is opened slowly by the attendant Time we will be vouchsafed the sight of all our hopes in glorious detail.
Here's hoping, expectant reader, that you will pluck as many blooms as you can comfortably carry.
“Whatever the past year may have meant to you, make it dead history. But let the new year be a living issue. With a big fresh sponge, dripping with the clear water of forgiveness, wipe clean the slate of your heart.”
That is where a church should always be set, if possible. New Zealand has some picturesque examples of this fitting choice of site. Nelson Cathedral is one that comes to mind. Once upon a time there was a fort there, a redoubt and stockade combined; it was built in 1843 and was named Fort Arthur, after Captain Arthur Wakefield, who was killed at the Wairau. Then when a place of defence was no longer required in Nelson, this principal church naturally was set there, on the hill that commands the principal streets. Taking a jump to the far North, there is a pretty church at the historic village of Kerikeri, Bay of Islands; the Commerce Train tourists saw it the other day. It sits on a mound overlooking the old-fashioned hamlet. St. Bride's Church at Mauku, is another; it is one of the story-churches of our history, for it was stockaded as a fort in the Maori War. The tall spire topping its dark shingled roof looks out over the tree tops on and around its sentry hill.
One with a wider look-out is the tiny Presbyterian Church at Pukekohe East; you catch a glimpse of it from the railway line near Pukekohe town. It is on the high verge of a steep descent to an ancient crater valley; it is painted white and it glints in the sunshine, like a heliograph signal when the westering sun strikes its windows. This church, too, was a war-time fort; there was a lively battle there in 1863, and some of the Maoris who fell in the encounter are buried on the hill-slope.
And there is the prettiest of them all, quite near Wellington—the English Church of old-style design that stands on the beautiful hill, small-wooded like a park, at Pahautanui township (correctly Pauataha-nui); a distant glimpse of it can be got from the railway line near the bridge across the narrow estuary at Paremata. A story-place this, too; the church amid the flowering native trees stands on the site of a Maori fortification of 1846, Te Rangihaeata's palisaded pa.
Train-travellers who make a motor-car jaunt from Matamata or other convenient stations to the wonderful hydro-electric works at Arapuni, would have a run of particular scenic interest if they returned by way of the Hinuera Valley. One comes through it on the main road between Cambridge and Matamata, and the Arapuni road links up with it. It is a most fascinating place, this Hinuera (Hinu-wera—“Hot Oil”—it originally was). Anciently the Waikato River flowed through this level-floored valley into the Upper Thames basin and the Hauraki. Most likely, indeed the “Firth” of Thames, as we know it on the map, did not exist; the sea probably flowed inland as far as where Morrinsville now stands. The terraces along the Waikato bank speak eloquently of the time when the great river flowed at a higher level than it does to day.
The valley is walled on each side by dark vertical bluffs of columnar rocks, of volcanic origin,
Tramping up that ground canyon the Clinton Valley, on the way from the head of Lake Te Anau to McKinnon's Pass, where the foot-trail goes to Milford Sound, we came to a forest pool, a little lake bosomed in the rata and tawai and ribbonwood trees. Some early explorer, I think McKinnon himself, christened it Lake Mintaro. On either side of the forest-filled valley rose the lofty overmastering walls of granite, with long thin waterfalls strewn like white waving ropes down their grey precipices. An army marching through the forest would have made no sound, so thick was the soft carpet of moss and ferns. In the midst of this wild park Mintaro lay perfectly still, a lagoon of jade.
On this pool of solitude were little fleets of water birds, mostly blue duck (the whio of the Maori), with some putangitangi, or paradise duck. They cruised around and around; they whistled
Railway Improvements at Auckland.
The new overhead bridge recently completed at Campbell's Point, Auckland-Westfield deviation.whio—the harsh cries were those of the paradise duck. Those pretty birds were not afraid of man; at any rate they did not take flight when we approached and stood still, trying to look as much like tree trunks as a trio of beswagged trampers could. “Whio” and “putangitangi” went on arguing and insect-snapping and fishing; they knew we weren't going to interfere with their day's job.
The shorewhalers and offshore hunters go whaling in fast and powerful motor launches with bomb-guns, and there is a small steam whaler operating out of Whangamumu, North New Zealand. But the humpback whale is as a rule the only big game killed—the sperm whales are practically extinct, and only now and again is a right whale killed—the kind that has the valuable whalebone in its mouth (the stuff when cut out looks like long black slabs with hairy edges). The people who are making big money out of our Southern Ocean whales are the Norwegians, whose operations on a huge scale are nothing less than a wholesale massacre. Soon there will be no more whales, say the few old-timers of the Coast, wagging their white whiskers.
The Way We Go Ins And Outs Of Life
Told By Leo Fanning
One trouble with democracy in many countries is that live issues are often too much wrapped up in dead tissues of words, and principles of government are mazed and hazed in phrases. There is a stupendous faith in a formula until it is exploded and replaced by another formula which attracts similar faith until it suffers the same fate.
* * *
When a man is old enough to remember well the ways of other days, but is not too old for an active interest in the new order, life can have for him a very pleasant richness, even if his deposits and withdrawals at the bank cause no excitement in financial circles.
* * *
Of course there is no average man; still less is there an average woman. Each is sure that he or she has within himself or herself certain ability, certain power, which, if properly recognised and appreciated, would work wonders. “Some people have all the luck,” sighs the average man or woman. “If only I had the chance, what ….?” But it is not necessary to fill in the blank. Have we not all felt what the world has missed by not fully exploiting our undeveloped resources?
* * *
There is a common nonsensical saying to the effect that any man can be replaced. If there is one truth that impresses a reader of history more than any other fact it is one-man power or influence as against mass influence. When masses are left to their own guidance they make messes. Even when masses obtain great power the result is always traceable to a mighty leader. What would be the state and balance of power to-day if there had been no Napoleon? Go further back. What would be the position now if there had been no Julius CaEsar? If his legions had not penetrated as far as Britain what would have been the subsequent history of Britain? Thus you can go on “ifing” with many famous names of Europe, Asia, and America.
* * *
An old proverb of many nations alleges it is the unexpected that happens. This is a warning that we must look for surprises—and we do. Who is not hoping for them? The right kind, of course, for unpleasant surprises are, alas, too frequent and persistent. When things are going well, you must be on guard against a surprise—the hidden, insidious borer that turns your timber into dust.
* * *
Our pleasantest surprises are in our reveries and dreams. Life may not give us the joyous surprises of our hopes and merits, but by taking thought we can add cubits of stature to our importance in the scheme of things as we see them—in the fireside armchair or in bed. When the plodding Dodderson has been passed in the course of fortune by his old school-fellow, the proud Purseval, and has been cut by the money magnate and snubbed by his expensively-furred fat wife, icily lorgnetted by her from her luxurious car, he has no meek and mild acceptance of his fate. He has a vision of himself as one who will overwhelm them with a terrific surprise some day, if the luck will only come his way.
* * *
Of course the old world always has loved spectacular successes in money-making feats of
* * *
Much of our life is spent in telling one another what we already know, or in asking our fellow-creatures to say aye-aye to our sentiments, opinions, prejudice, or nonsense. Morning, afternoon, and evening we remind one another philosophically that two and two are four, or twice two is four, which we sometimes vary to 3 plus 1, or 2 ½ plus 1 ½, or 5 minus 1.
* * *
Undergraduates of any University busy themselves fervently in various schemes, by fits and starts, to change this old world for the better. They look about them and see a welter of things crying for reformation. They see Governments, Local Bodies, Boards and other corporations as conglomerates of stodge, and they yearn to put idealist spirit into the beef—but in due time most of them become beefy themselves—butts for the slings and arrows of another generation of undergraduates (including their own sons).
* * *
Live to laugh, and laugh to live—laugh anyhow. That is the kind of advice which we give to one another, in various proverbial sayings, such as “Laugh and grow fat,” “All the world loves a laugher” (even if he is only an amusing loafer). Anybody who knows how to make the world laugh will never be short of a loaf and a cup of sack or cocoa.
* * *
“Women are like sheep in following the fashions,” a thoughtless man may say, forgetting for the moment that man is much more a slave of fashion than woman is. Certainly, if woman is a she-sheep in that field, man is emphatically a he-sheep, if not a he-goat. The tubes of tweed have their ebbs and flows; the coat tails have their ups and downs; the bowlers have various bulges from one season to another—and so it goes on also with ties, shirts, socks and shoes. The difference between the sexes in the matter of fashion is not so much in degree as in conspicuousness. There is not enough flash in the fashions for men.
Guaranteed Rigidity and Lasting Quality …
A guarantee behind the Orb Brand of Corrugated Iron proves the confidence of its makers.
Rigidity and quality is obtained at a trifle more cost than the commonest roofing iron by using “ORB.”
Write for free copy of Pocket Handbook
Lysaght's Orb Brand Corrugated Iron
John Lysaght Ltd., Box 341, Wellington.
There is not enough of the carnival spirit nowadays, not enough pageantry. In days of old the monarchs knew the value of an occasional merry time for the public. This jollity delayed the evolution of the popular franchise, but it was worth it. Plenty of people to-day feel that it is hardly worth while to be motored to a polling place, but they would all turn out on foot for a revival of decent frolics. Of course, there are “high jinks” in some cabarets, but that excitement is out of the public eye and ear, and the only news of it comes from a curate or canon who thunders at it occasionally. “Community singing” was an attempt to restore the old community joyfulness, but you cannot command the people to sing. Give them the right kind of thrills, and they will sing all right.
* * *
Repetition gradually makes some difficult tasks easy—but there are always exceptions. Plenty of folk find that the irritating iteration of the bed-quitting business in the morning does not make it any easier as the years go by.
* * *
Some of us are patient by nature, and others by policy. Hard is the fate of the man whose disposition is explosive when circumstances compel him to repress himself constantly, when his impulse is to swear he may have to smile, and when he has a burning eagerness to kick he may have to offer cake.
* * *
“This is the Age of Interruption,” a philosophic friend remarked sadly to me the other day. “Whatever you wish or try to do or say, something or somebody butts in or cuts in. I went home the other evening, sober, full of noble thought. My wife had complained that I was too much wrapped up in myself, too quietly meditative, not talkative enough. Well, I resolved to make amends. I was speaking fruitily—I knew I was—about men and things, but in the midst of my most sparkling sentence, my wife said, prosily—‘Yes, yes—but did you remember to bring home the sausages'?”
* * *
New Zealanders know more of the world than the world knows of itself. There is a proverbial saying about going away from home to get the news of home. Well, the world has to come to New Zealand to get a proper view of itself. These islands, peacefully apart from the continents, are the mustering place of the world's news. Thousands of visitors from Europe and America have remarked that the papers here have more news of the wide world, set in better perspective, than their contemporaries of older countries.
See it … drive it … compare it with any other car at any price and then decide
The New Superior
Whippet “4”
The Canadian Knight and Whippet Motor Co.
Wellington, Auckland and Hastings
There is no part of New Zealand that has more charm than the coast of Hawke's Bay. The swell of the mighty Pacific rolls in eternally with incessant majesty, bringing with it a breath of tropical isles beyond the waves.
As Dick Marsden rode along the cliffs which bordered his station, he could almost hear the oars of the Maori fleet which had sailed so bravely across the great seas to the land of the Long White Cloud. Our Dick was an imaginative soul—as most sheep farmers are. Their keen interest in the price of wool has not blinded their eyes to the sheer beauty of their land. They are large souled men in close communion with Nature.
That day Dick was acutely unhappy—his grey eyes were troubled as he glanced mechanically at the fences, noticing a weakness here and there. The young master of “Manawapou” was anxious. Things had not been right at the station for some time, and he felt it very keenly that summer evening as he rode towards the homestead—half hidden in a deep yalley among towering black pines and scrubby tufts of manuka. It seemed to him, as he gazed down from the crest of a hill that a shadow lay over the home of his fathers—gleaming whitely in the dusk. What was the awful doom swiftly approaching over the peaceful slopes? He could not account for his presentiment, but he almost feared to make that last joyous gallop towards the twinkling lights of the station. The night breeze seemed to whisper to him that tragedy lurked there behind the belt of pines. “Come on, Jock old boy, we're getting morbid,” said Dick to his horse. He leant low over the neck of the beast, and together they thundered over the soft turf—leaving behind them the sadly murmuring waves, and the melancholy cry of the sea birds.
The Marsden boys, Derek and Dick, had managed the great station of “Manawapou” since their father's death, two years before. There they had spent their childhood—they had ridden their ponies together over the great paddocks—they had helped with the “dipping,” and spent long hours watching the gangs of Maori shearers. From their father they had inherited an immense love for their land—the open air—the winds, and the vast moving flocks of sheep. Such things had become their life.
Then had come a change. Their father had died suddenly—Derek had gone Home to England, and left Dick in charge. Sometimes he had been lonely during that year—missed the evening talks with his father by the great log fire, and the rides with his brother along the beach. But as a rule he was happy, a rather reticent and shy young giant—fond of books and solitude. Derek used to say that “dear old Dick was as reliable as the rising and ebbing of the tides.” And he was.
One day, towards the end of summer, a day of blazing sunshine and vivid colour, Derek
A Well-Lighted Station Platform.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A view of Auckland Station by night.
For a year life had been full of happiness for Derek and Hilary—Dick had found a chum in his brother's English wife—who gave him books, chose his sox and ties with unerring taste, sang duets with him, and persuaded him to have a tennis court made for her.
Then Derek and his wife had begun to quarrel—not fiercely—but gradually, she cool and autocratic, he miserable and sullen. Months had passed until the strain had been almost unbearable. It seemed as if two exquisite instruments were crashing out ghastly discords—each breaking in the effort. A shadow had fallen—Hilary became very quite and cold, and Derek spent his days far away in the most remote corners of the station. All the sunshine had gone out of life for three human beings, while the same stars smiled down on the station, mocking the foolishness of mankind.
As Dick entered the great yard at the back of the house that night he was greeted by silence—utter and absolute. No sound of laughter in the kitchen—no lounging shepherds smoking in the doorway. Even his dogs seemed to have deserted him. Again an icy wave of
Out on the verandah he paused—sick with horror at the sight which met his straining eyes. He saw a silent group of people—shepherds, drovers, servants—bare-headed, in the moonlight. Pushing them aside, he came upon his brother, kneeling—and by his side a straight pale shape—inert, lying in that ghastly broken way which tells mutely of death. “Hilary!” he whispered, falling on his knees beside Derek, “Dearest Hilary!” He could say no more—the sight of her white face froze his mind into a black numbness. “She fell from her horse,” muttered Derek brokenly. “It is no use getting a doctor—too late!” The tears on his cheeks broke Dick's heart—he just knelt there, and watched the spark of life fading—unconscious of everything except that dear pale face framed in its golden hair. At the end she opened her eyes, bright and clear, and the ghost of her old gay smile hovered at her lips. “Dear old Derek,” she whispered, “don't be miserable—we didn't really hit it off very well did we? Not quite as we expected to.” She stroked her husband's big brown hand in silence, then turned to Dick—“Take care of him Dick, old boy, for my sake.” Then, just as the moon emerged in pale glory from a cloud, she died—lying there on the verandah, just as they had brought her in—and the two men knelt in silence at her side—alone with the strangeness of death. The stars smiled down, mockingly as ever—the little tragedies of men are nothing to them.
Derek and Dick Marsden are old men now—white-haired, erect, and grave. For her sake, and because of her memory they stayed at “Manawapou” and made it worthy of their fathers—and sometimes now, as they walk side by side along the beach, as they did when they were little jolly boys, they seem to hear her voice in the wind and her husky laugh in the waves of the Pacific which brought her to them. Men call them “unsociable old hermits”—but how can they know otherwise? Human hearts hold many secrets—and human lives many tragedies.
“What shall I go as?”
This season there are going to be ever so many informal fancy dress dances—they are great fun and often far more interesting than the usual dance. There is something really fascinating about adopting a strange, unusual costume, and being able to escape from yourself and be someone truly great for one evening—forgetting that you are an ordinary twentieth century business girl and being transformed into a stately Queen Elizabeth—a dusky and alluring Carmen—a dainty Dresden china shepherdess. Think of the excitement of wearing a mask—of dancing with a “black domino” who may or may not be, in real life—a bank clerk. For the moment he is a romantic shape evoked from the past—a storybook hero alive and mysterious for a night.
As a rule fancy dress dances are more or less impromptu affairs—there is very little time to make your costume, which usually has to be something you already have.
If you have a little imagination you will be able to do wonders with a discarded frock—you'll find heaps of ancient things which happen to be just what you want.
If you are adopting an historical costume it must be correct in every detail—nothing is more absurd than a mixture of the Elizabethan and Victorian—or of the typical French with the typical English. If you are not quite sure and haven't much time, it is easier and more attractive to be an imaginary figure—someone quaint and fantastic—a personality created for yourself—a vagabond gypsy—a picturesque fisher-girl bare-legged and kerchiefed—a wandering minstrel boy—a beggar maid. All these delightful characters can be created from a simple costume manufactured on the spur of the moment.
Before deciding the great question you must give a thought to your individual type—imagine a fair-haired, fluffy girl as an exotic Eastern water carrier, or a dusky, vivid creature as a Watteau shepherdess. There is a fancy-dress for everyone—and often it is far more becoming than the dress of everyday which fashion forces us to wear—the tall and the short, the fat and the thin alike.
One last word—try and act your part—forget your little self and become for a brief moment—a mediaEval page, a pirate girl, and Aladdin or a Peter Pan. Step out from the pages of history and legend and become someone else. As you know—a wave of the magic wand once turned pumpkins into carriages—and it will do so again!
January, February and March are the jolly bathing months—blue sky, blue sea, and burning sands—a fitting enough background for the daughters of Eve. Let our beach frocks be gay, vivid splashes of colour—orange, crimson, and green. Nothing could be more effective than a group of colourful frocks blown by the sea breezes—haven't you often wished to be an artist at such moments?
Materials this year are even more varied and cheaper than ever. There is no earthly reason why everyone should not be quite “a thing of beauty”—when a frock can be made for the sum of five shillings! Let them be simply cut and plain—colour is the chief thing. This year we are all going to save our stockings and revert to the bare-legged bliss of childhood—won't it be nice “to feel the sand between our toes?” Tennis shoes, and one of those tremendous, fascinating Lido hats will complete the jolliest beach costume—comfortable, cool and charming. Farewell to the days of Victoria when our grandmothers timidly displayed a dainty ankle. Life may have had its joys then, but its handicaps were horrible! Everywhere the cry of the modern is for “Freedom!”
Imagine tip-toeing discreetly from a bathing machine in a modest and billowing affair of navy serge—to giggle and gasp for a few moments on the extreme edge of the briny and to rush back “under cover” at the mere sight of an inoffensive male!
I think the modern bathing costume is really beautiful and so comfortable for good swimming, for, of course now-a-days, we all swim and “life-save”—not to mention diving, speed boats and aquaplanes. The twentieth century girl stands proudly poised on the spring-board—slim, confident, commanding—a brave little figure ready to glide like a swallow into the depths.
Belts are being worn again this year—but beware of them if you are inclined to plumpness—for they are unkind.
An essential part of your swimming costume is a towel bathing wrap—they always make me think of the sweeping sheiks of Arabia—although their flowing robes are supposed to be in reality horribly unclean! A floating vivid wrap is the jolliest thing—and so warm in one of our “Southerlies.” Now take your Jap. sunshade and your rubber bathing shoes and give my love to the sea.
I roamed where paints and easels
(1) Golden Cakes.—Easy to make and inexpensive.
6ozs. flour.
3ozs. sugar.
2ozs. butter.
1 teaspoon baking powder.
1 tablespoon marmalade.
1 egg.
1 tablespoon milk.
Beat butter and sugar to a cream; add egg and milk well beaten; then marmalade, and finally the flour and baking powder. Mix well and bake in paper covers in a quick oven for 10 minutes or a little longer.
The above mixture makes about 16 cakes. Take a piece off the top of each cake and fill with whipped cream.
2 breakfast cups flour.
1 tea cup sugar.
½lb. of butter or good dripping.
2 teaspoons baking powder.
Pinch of salt.
1 egg.
½ tea cup milk.
Rub butter into flour—add sugar, baking powder and salt. Mix well. Beat egg with milk and add to dry ingredients—as for scones. Roll out and cut into shapes. Bake in oven as for scones.
Which?—“Fifty years of happy married life! How have you managed it?” “Well, for one thing, son, I've always admitted I was wrong.”
If, during the year, the outside world has not taught how to cure unemployment, has it any lesson in the control of modern traffic? The British Government has brought down a Transport Bill that sets up, for the licensing and control of public service vehicles, eighteen traffic area authorities, instead of about a thousand local authorities. New Zealand still has a local authority licensing system; but in the opinion of the British Royal Commission, on whose investigations and report the Bill is based, such a system is archaic and chaotic. According to the Commission's recommendations, the new licensing authorities, subject to the British Ministry of Transport, should be empowered to fix routes and fares, eliminate unnecessary road services, and establish a “controlled monopoly.” Although this report is made to a Labour Government, it is by no means a Labour Commission, and those who swear by “controlled monopoly” are by no means composed of men who bow the knee to State socialism. So the report indicates how far along the road of public control of private services even the greatest individualists are nowadays forced to go. The Commission recommends abolition of speed limit except for certain heavy vehicles whose speed must be limited to protect the roads; for the protection of road-users it is proposed to rely on prosecutions for “dangerous driving” not for breach of speed limit. The report and the Bill contain many things that ought to provoke thought. Not by any means so clear-cut is the evidence provided by Australia's two greatest cities on the perplexing subject of car-parking. Melbourne City Council has a by-law under which it allots parking space to motorists on payment of a fee ranging from 1/- a day to about £10 a year; in short, it sells public space, and employs men to supervise parking. But Sydney cabled under date 9th December that “owing to severe congestion of Sydney's narrow streets, the police department has prohibited car-parking in the chief thoroughfares.” In New Zealand the municipalities seem to be puzzled as to what to do about parking, and the New Zealand Town Planner again asks for limitation of height of buildings to prevent the streets being completely deadlocked.
* * *
On 12th December, 1901, Signor Marconi received at St. John, Newfoundland, the first wireless signal sent across the Atlantic; it came from the Poldhu station, Cornwall. So 12th December is a redletter day. If one dates wireless from 1901, the motor car may be said to have been born a few years before it, and flying (facilitated by motor car engine development) a few years after it. From this trinity the twentieth century has derived much of its peculiar character; two of the trinity (radio and flying) mostly bridge the immense gulf between Scott and Byrd. In thirty years the world's technical progress, thanks to invention and to the application of science to industry, has been dazzling.
In this evolution not only distance-killing transport and communications, and great and ever-increasing trade combinations, have played a part. The cinema (which figured in the cablegrams on the same day as Marconi) has been a profound social-industrial factor too. According to the League of Nations figures (Geneva, 13th Dec.)
* * *
In conformity with the scale of relative quantities, New Zealand must necessarily take her cue, to a great extent, from the economic experience of more populous and older countries. Generally she must look to their lead in most branches of the application of science to industry, and in the supply of technical equipment. Also, she must, as mentioned lower down, take such motion pictures as they choose to send her. Yet it is also true that many men who are leaders oversea are New Zealand born. This Dominion breeds and trains clever men, who go oversea to find their scope, and the retiring Governor-General, Sir Charles Fergusson, offers the opinion that New Zealand should be as proud of these New Zealanders who do the work of the Empire elsewhere as of those who do it at home. Of such is Mr. Norman D. Nairn (a wanderer momentarily returned), and his brother Gerald. After war service in Palestine, Mr. N. D. Nairn stopped in Syria and took a big hand in re-opening the world's oldest transport route, by putting on motors between Beirut and Bagdad. From four-wheeled to six-wheeled vehicles the service has ascended, and the modern Alexander now plans to conquer the air with Damascus-Bagdad twelve-passenger aeroplanes. New Zealand's oversea legion is too numerous to particularise, but among those links-with-the-outside-world are “the New Zealanders in the Royal Air Force, numbering ninety,” who dined in London on 1st December with Major Wilkes and Captain Findlay. At the same time twenty Wellington College Old Boys met in the metropolis at a reunion dinner. The world is both very large and very small. Another New Zealander, the radio airman McWilliams, of trans-Tasman and round-the-world Southern Cross fame, looked in during December at the land of his birth.
* * *
Is a portent to be found in the fact that the year 1929 closes with something of a clash between the spirit of Briand and the spirit of Foch? “There was a dramatic incident in the Chamber of Deputies” (reports a cablegram of 27th December) when a Deputy read a document, signed by the late Marshal in 1926, opposing evacuation of the Rhineland before the date fixed in the Versailles Treaty. M. Briand, now Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Tardieu Government, said he was ignorant of the document's existence. No one is ignorant, however, of the fact that Foch sought for France the Rhine frontier. He blamed the Clemenceau Government for not putting it in the Treaty. And, if the greater includes the less, how could Foch have been expected to condone premature evacuation of territory that he considered should never have been regarded as evacuable? But though there seems to be no reasonable ground for surprise at the Foch relic, the incident is none the less symbolic. All transport progress (sea, land, air) tends to annihilate distance and create a smaller world; economic evolution and the inter-locking ramifications of modern commerce tend to drive races, castes, creeds, and colours together; but the counterdrive of nationalism, based on history and racial traditions, is directed to maintaining the gap. Amid mighty centripetal and centrifugal forces, Briand dares to propound his United States of Europe. But the U.S. of Europe is not an issue. Disarmament is. The first question in 1930 is this: Can Briand lead France into a naval reduction scheme on the scale contemplated by Britain and the United States? French concessions in the Versailles Treaty were given on the understanding that President Wilson could secure from the United States Congress guarantees for France. That hope the Senate killed; and France has not forgotten. The goods Clemenceau bought at Versailles were never delivered. What consolation will France claim when the English-speaking seakings come before her in their new mood of naval self-denial?
DivisionI.
Anderson, W. T., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Waitahuna.
Avey, L. T., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Loco. Foreman's Office, Taihape.
Beaglehole, K., to Draftsman, Gr. 5, Signal and Electrical Branch, Wellington.
Bennett, P. C., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Christchurch Goods.
Bishop, S. A., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Loco. Foreman's Office, Auckland.
Burns, H., to Yard Foreman, Relief Staff, Gr. 5, Christchurch Goods.
Burgess, E. E., to Relief Clerk, Gr. 6, Rakaia.
Cassells, A. M., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Caversham.
Cottam, C. W., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Fairlie.
Craighead, L., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Green Island.
Currie, J., to Surveyor and Draftsman, Gr. 6, Land and Legal Branch, Wellington.
Davie, H. J., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Waipiata.
Drury, J. E., to Draftsman, Gr. 6, Signal and Electrical Branch, Wellington.
Ericson, J. F., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Dunedin Passenger.
Fisher, R. E., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Amberley.
Franklin, T. M., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Abbotsford.
Grant, H. W., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Seacliff.
Harvey, E. G., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Sefton.
Hoff, L. P., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Burke's.
Kernick, J., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Christchurch Passenger.
King, T. E. H., to Clerk, Gr. 6, D.T.M.O., Christchurch.
Lambert, J., to Foreman, Relief Staff, Gr. 5, Wellington.
Langford, E. H., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Hampden.
Lawson, D. W., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Winchester.
Lynch, T., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Invercargill Goods.
Martin, G. T., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Hutt Workshops.
McCree, G. H., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Moana.
McIntosh, L. L., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Pleasant Point.
McKay, R. W., to Clerk, Gr. 6, D.T.M.O., Dunedin.
McMecking, W. J. N., to Clerk, Gr. 6, S.I.D.S.O., Christchurch.
O'Connor, M. J., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Timaru.
Pengelly, W. H., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Rangitata.
Pope, W. B., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Mt. Somers.
Rawlings, W. E., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Works Manager's Office, Addington.
Ritchie, A. H., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Waitati.
Robertson, J. K., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Dunedin Passenger.
Rogers, A. A. H., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Loco. Foreman's Office, Wellington.
Russell, A., to Car and Wagon Inspector, Gr. 5, Invercargill.
Saunders, W. A., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Lyttelton.
Sherratt, A. S., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Works Manager's Office, Addington.
Thompson, J. A., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Hinds.
Thurlow, G. F., to Stationmaster, Gr. 6, Oturehua.
Wildermoth, L. H., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Invercargill Goods.
Williams, T. H., to Clerk, Gr. 6, Lyttelton.
Wilson, J. C., to Yard Foreman, Gr. 5, Lyttelton.
Coalman to Skilled Labourer.
Juggernaut, N., to Addington.
Watchman to Fettler.
Lapsley, R. B., to Hillside.
Iron Machinist to Turner.
Elliott, I., to Hutt.
Labourer to Skilled Labourer.
Hutchinson, T., to Invercargill.
Fitter to Sub-Foreman.
King, J. C., to Gr. 6, Hutt.
Leading Painter to Sub-Foreman.
Matheson, J. K., to Gr. 6, Addington.
Porters to Shunters.
Bartlett, F., to Spare, Palmerston North.
Blackbourne, B., to Wellington Goods.
Jones, C. H., to Auckland Goods.
Jones, W. F., to Wellington Goods.
Kinzett, S. M., to Oamaru.
Nicholson, E. T., to Palmerston North.
Sharr, R. H., to Spare, Christchurch Goods.
Thwaites, F. P., to Wellington Goods.
Porter to Signalman.
Mitchell, A., to Te Kuiti.
Porter to Storeman.
Philpott, R. N., to Gore.
The World'S Record Run.
What is claimed to be the world's fastest train journey was accomplished on 8th July last by the Great Western Railway (England). The journey was between Swindon and Paddington, a distance of 77 ¼ miles, the time occupied being 68 minutes. A speed of over 61 miles an hour was recorded two miles out of Swindon, whilst at Challow, 13 miles from the starting point, a speed of 80.7 miles per hour was reached.