Contents
The Audit Office, Wellington, N.Z., 10th March, 1930.
I hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose the average circulation of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” for the twelve months ended February, 1930 as in excess of 23,500 copies per month during the whole of that period, and that during the months of January and February, 1930, the monthly circulation has increased to 24,000 copies.
Controller and Auditor-General.
New Zealand Welcomes Her New Governor-General.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Enthusiastic scenes marked the arrival, at Wellington, 19th March, of Their Excellencies Lord and Lady Bledisloe—many thousands of Wellington citizens participating in a warm welcome to the Vice-Regal Party. The illustrations shew: (1) The address of welcome presented to Their Excellencies by Mr. J. W. McEwen, Chairman of the Wellington Harbour Board; (2) the Vice-Regal Party leaving the “Muritai” at Pipitea Wharf; (3) leaving the wharf for the civic reception at the Town Hall; (4) Their Excellencies greeted by the Mayor and Mayoress of Wellington (Mr. and Mrs. G. A. Troup); (5) Vice-Regal and Ministerial Party on Pipitea Wharf: (6) His Excellency and Major-General R. Young, G.O.C., New Zealand Military Forces; (7) and (8) the “swearing-in” ceremony at Parliament Buildings; (9) His Excellency inspecting the Guard of Honour; (10) general view of the proceedings at Parliament Buildings.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
Published by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
“For Better Service”
Service Copy Circulation Over 24,800
Vol. 4. No. 12.
Wellington,
New Zealand
April1, 1930
Railways and The Public
To haul what the farmer grows the Iron Horse burns what the miner hews. As more than three-quarters of the total quantity of coal used on the railways of New Zealand is locally produced, the above fact has a very definite bearing on the national aspects of transport. It supplies one quite convincing reason why the rail method of conveyance should be used wherever preference as between road and rail can be given. With world prices sagging, the need for keeping the home market in a good buying condition is particularly pressing.
But the miner and the farmer are not alone affected. Every section of the community benefits if the railway returns are good, and if they are bad, feels the pinch of the tightened belt, the hungry day of the Rangitikei.
Our railways are now a highly efficient transport instrument evolved through long years of experience in the business, with their economic principles of operation fully understood and their actual financial situation in plain view.
They respond in general to the law of increasing return—the more they are used the better they pay.
In these present times, special attention should be paid by the average citizen—the business man, the employee, the manufacturer, the primary producer—to the effect that can be produced by their own actions in regard to the means they use for transport, and the relation of those actions not only to the general transport situation, but also to their actions and reactions on the welfare of the community as a whole.
The time is ripe for a straight talk to the taxpayer regarding the personal effect on himself of the present patronage accorded to services competing with the railways. The situation differs vitally from that obtaining where private railways are running. There, if the lines fail to return a reasonable profit upon the investment, the shareholders alone are the losers. They have put their money into something that proves a bad investment, and they either accept the position philosophically, or pull out at the first opportunity. Here the situation is wholly different. Here the shareholders are the people as a whole. They cannot pull out, neither can they afford to adopt a philosophical attitude. The opportunity is theirs to make the railways successful by using them or to let the railways be a deadweight on the community by failing to use them. There is no way by which this issue can be evaded. For this reason
Empire Farmers’ Party
Expression of Thanks for Dominion's Hospitality
The Dominion tour of the delegation of farmers from Great Britain, Canada and South Africa was completed in Auckland on 25th March.
Before departing, the leaders of the delegation, Mr. S. R. Whitley (Great Britain), and Mr. A. V. Allan (South Africa), handed the New Zealand Herald the following message addressed to the press of the Dominion:—
“We of the Empire Farmers' party who have been touring through New Zealand, wish to leave behind us a message of grateful thanks to all in the Dominion who have worked so hard to make our visit a happy and memorable one. The time has been all too short and hurried, but it is marvellous how much has been accomplished, due mainly to excellent staff-work on the part of the Farmers’ Union, Agricultural Department officials, chambers of commerce, civic authorities and the various other organisations before our arrival. Much of this work had been accomplished behind the scenes.
“We are indeed grateful, and would have those responsible to know it. The arrangements for our comfort have been highly appreciated by all our party. To those who came to receive us, who generously motored us everywhere in great comfort and who entertained us officially and privately with lavish hospitality, we can never sufficiently express our gratitude. That our company was appreciated beyond doubt has greatly added to our enjoyment. We only hope that a reunion with many friends, either in one of the sister Dominions or in the Homeland, may not be too long delayed; these new friendships must be kept fresh and bright by renewals as frequent as may be possible.
“To the womenfolk of the Dominion we would specially record our thanks. Their life is a very full one, and yet they always found time to add to our comfort and enjoyment as only women can. To the officials of the Railway Department who were responsible for our transport and tour arrangements and from whom we received never-failing kindness and courtesy, we would express our sincere thanks for hard work most efficiently carried out.
“For the rest of our lives we shall always have in our hearts a warm corner for the people of New Zealand and look forward to many happy reunions.”
Pleasing Our Patrons
Writing in the Tasmanian Journal of Agriculture,” Mr. C. L. Gillies, Dip.C.A.C., B.Agr., Chief Agronomist, makes the following appreciative reference to the transport arrangements made by the New Zealand Railways for the recent Dominion tour of the Tasmanian Farmers’ Party:—
“To the New Zealand Government Railways must be given the credit for a most efficiently run tour. Preliminary arrangements for the tour, as well as accommodation and transport, were entirely in their hands. The party owes a special debt to the Commercial Branch and two of its officers, Messrs. Pawson and Craig, who accompanied the party as business managers over the South and North Islands respectively.”
Railway Concessions Simplified
The Railway Department has decided to simplify the method of granting the concession in railage charges for race-horses travelling to and from race meetings. Under the new regulation it will not be necessary for owners to obtain certificates from the secretaries of the racing clubs, and in the case of race-horses travelling on a circuit of race meetings the certificate of journeys will not be required. The new tariff regulation reads as under: “Race-horses, hunters, and polo ponies travelling to and from a race meeting, hunt club meeting, or polo match, will be charged 25 per cent, less than the appropriate rate under this regulation, provided that the necessary certificate in one of the forms provided is endorsed on the consignment note and signed by the owner or trainer, and provided, further, that in the case of horses forwarded from a race or hunt club meeting or polo match the journey is commenced not later than fourteen days after the concluding days of such meeting or match.” In order to entitle them to receive the benefit of the concession, owners or trainers when consigning race-horses, etc., will require to certify on the consignment note that the animals have been duly nominated to compete or have competed at a race or hunt club meeting or polo match, the name of the meeting or match to be stated in every case; but where entries for hunt club meetings and polo matches are not made by nomination, as in the case of race club meetings, it will be sufficient if the horses are certified as proceeding to compete or as having competed in accordance with the certificates. It will not be necessary now for horses to be returned to the original forwarding station in order to obtain the benefit of the concession. The new regulation operates immediately.
General Manager's Message
Peak Period Traffic.
There are evidences that once again very heavy pressure is being placed upon our existing rolling-stock to handle the March-April rush of traffic in goods and livestock. The various workshops throughout the Dominion have certainly reached a stage where they are in condition to overtake the arrears in our wagon building programme, but it will be past the rush of the Autumn season this year before relief from this source will become really effective. In the meantime I would ask that every member of the staff dealing with wagons should remember the pressing need for rapid discharge and despatch to the points of supply of all trucks coming under his control. Although, up to date, a bigger tonnage has been handled this year than ever previously and (through a heavy withdrawal of condemned wagons) with even a slightly reduced total of wagons available, complaints regarding delay have been less than at any similar period that I remember. This I attribute to a fuller understanding of the position by the Department's clients, better co-operation in the matter of order and distribution, and improvements in train services enabling a more rapid turnover of the rolling-stock. I am very pleased to be able to place this on record, and, although we are not yet out of the wood, I feel sure that the same good spirit will prevail through the remainder of the rush period, including Easter. Thereafter we may expect to be in a much better position to deal with urgent rush traffic through the new stock which we will, by that time, have on the road.
Holiday Excursions.
The approach of Easter affords an opportunity for again drawing attention to the frequency of Holiday Excursion periods on the Railways, since to the Christmas and Easter holiday periods were added Holiday Excursion rates for all at the time of the School Autumn and Spring vacations. This gives, during the year, four times at which a general issue of Holiday Excursion tickets is available. There is thus an average of one week in six throughout the year when the ordinary rates of issue are replaced by excursion rates. Add to this the fact that on one day in every seven exceptionally low rates are available for day visits between most of the principal towns and their most convenient neighbouring resorts, and it will be seen how amply the requirements of travellers are now met in the matter of opportunities for low-fare travel. The increase in this class of traffic has helped to counteract the inevitable losses through the increased numbers of privatelyowned cars, and although it has given us a decreased return per passenger, it has supplied most encouraging proof of the favour in which rail travel is still held for mass passenger transport.
General Manager.
byE. Vivian Hall
While Naval Reduction dragged along, Lord Balfour, the big man of the 1922 Conference, died. W. R. Hearst pays him posthumous tribute. There may be significance in the revised oath of Germany's new Cabinet. In many markets buyer and seller fail to meet. Unrest, economic and political, persists.
* * *
Though political matters do not come within the province of this monthly column, it is necessary to notice that, following on the Cabinet crises in France, there has been a change of Government lately in Germany. At time of writing there is no reason to believe that Government policy will be altered in Germany, any more than it was in France, by Ministerial reshuffling. But the method of applying that policy may be materially altered. Overt evidence of change is the new wording of the oath with which President Hindenburg installed the members of the Bruening Cabinet. Last time he swore in a Cabinet, the President of the Republic required loyalty to the constitution and laws. This time the Ministers pledged devotion to “the welfare of the German people, the constitution, the laws,” etc. Cablegrams reporting this change suggest that the insertion of “welfare of the German people” before the consitution means that the Government, basing its case on the popular welfare, is prepared, if necessary, to act on the people's orders (or what it assumes to be their orders) rather than on the orders of a Reichstag so split into groups as to be incapable of forming a stable Government. The cabled suggestion implies that continuity of the Streseman European policy will thus be assured—if necessary, by a dictatorship. A Hindenburg dictatorship, to preserve the Young Plan, might please Europe. But would Europe be pleased if someone whispered that a Hindenburg dictatorship might assume a Hohenzollern complexion?
* * *
Of a quality different from the dictatorship in Italy, the Spanish regime of De Rivera came to an end by wear and tear. De Rivera's early death softened the acrimony that surrounded the passing of his rule, and the funeral tribute in Madrid seems to have taken the sting out of the party charges of maladministration. Death has also removed another great political leader in Lord Balfour, formerly Conservative Prime Minister of Britain. The Salisbury-Balfour Governments comprise the longest Conservative Administration the present generation remembers. Its tariff leanings paved the way for the longest Liberal Administration of this century, beginning in 1906, carrying on into the war, and fading into a war coalition. Under the shadow of the Liberal regime the Labour Party developed, and Mr. Philip Guedalla has described these changes as “the British substitute for a revolution.” There was in Britain no Spanish dictatorship, nor any thought of such. The fallen Prime Minister resigned even the leadership of his own party, yet remained in politics to carry out some of the greatest constructive work of his career, embodied in the Balfour Note (international debts), the Balfour Declaration (Zionism), and the Washington Conference, where, in 1922, Lord Balfour (according
* * *
Balfour did not live long enough to read the exaggerated praise passed upon him by the Hearst journals. While the 1930 Naval Reduction Conference (a sequel to 1922) was struggling in London with its problems, he lay awaiting death, conscious of its approach, and, happy in the enjoyment of the music of the piano played by friends—an instrument of which he was himself a master. He was slipping into dreamland, passing beyond the reach of that still unsolved conundrum of how an island off the coast of Europe can regard European Continental armaments with the detachment and comparative unconcern with which they may be regarded in a trans-Atlantic continent or in islands lying off the farther coast of Asia. Not his was the task to be the diplomatic link between America and Japan on the one hand, and France and Italy on the other; nor was it for him to discover how the disarmament spirit of the Western Powers could be lived up to without abandoning the Mediterranean to Gaul and Italian. To the dying man the suggestion that he sank the American Navy, and the allegation that Mr. Ramsay MacDonald is sinking the British Navy, would probably have seemed equally fantastic—the hyperbole of extremists. And perhaps we had better leave it at that.
An Historic Boxing Contest.
(Photos by courtesy of the “N.Z. Free Lance” (centre), and Mr. L. Wallace)
At the Wellington Speedway's Stadium on 29th March, 1930, in the presence of a concourse of people, estimated at 17,000, the popular New Zealand Railways Fireman, Tommy Donovan, of Waitara (centre), secured a meritorious points decision over Pete Sarron (U.S.A.), in one of the most thrilling contests ever staged in New Zealand. Donovan's aggressive tactics, which have established him firmly in the esteem of boxing enthusiasts, are shewn in the above illustrations, taken during the contest.
News from oversea is still full of plans for regulated marketing, but the accompaniment of falling prices has not been silenced. The authority who said two years ago that prices had reached bottom was obviously wrong, and even to-day, probably, would not care to repeat his assurance, though the nearness of various staple commodities to pre-war price-level suggests that in some respects at any rate bedrock has been reached. In rubber, one of the earliest controls, they are still investigating in the East Indies with a view to improving the forecasts of production; what the bearing and to-come-into-bearing trees will be producing in three or four years time is a little known but vital factor in policy. President Hoover, who a few years ago was very censorious of British rubber control, is wondering how far he can help the American farmer to hold wheat against the rising tide of American unemployment. A guarantee of 4/- a bushel for wheat is promised to Australian growers by the Commonwealth Government. After some dubiety, British tin producers decided to continue to try to regulate output. Conversely, British creditors have secured from San Paulo (Brazil) a promise to liquidate coffee stocks, San Paulo having apparently forgotten that liquidation is coffee's proper destiny. San Paulo ranchers’ decision “to turn to wheat growing” may interest President Hoover.
Ken Alexander
Dignified reader, were I to claim to be the day before the day after to-morrow, the Bay of Bengal, the ghost of Hamfat the Giblet, or the echo of a dumbell, you would suspect me of harbouring a hiatus in the head, or static in the attic; and rightly so. And yet, when you are officially advised that it is Easter, you inhale the tidings holus bolus and in the piece, on the slender but weighty evidence of the usual slabs of palæological pottery which bear a strange device and boast that they are buns—to say naught of those oval omens of Easter, the imitation eggs of the lollie shops. Believe me, trusting reader, no one knows when Easter really hatches out (not even the baker who calls it Yeaster—which is all bun-combe). It only requires some nit-wit to remark: “Well, well, who'd believe it'll be Goo'friday next Thursday week?” and the cry spreads like the parasites of parrot fever, until the powers that be are piqued into placating the pop-eyed populace by throwing in a vacation.
Everyone knows in which square of the calendar Christmas Day is liable to land, but Good Friday is prone to nose-dive into the most unsuspected latitudes and logarithms. Certain scientific Solomons say that Easter is in the nature of a seismic seizure, resulting from the sun contracting a complex in the apex, the moon being bitten by the dog star, and a ziff occurring on the zodiac—or some other stellar disturbance equally astro-comical.
And you, gullible reader, let them get away with it; you, a disgusted citizen, a father-of-five, a distracted parent, a mere pedestrian, one-who-knows, etc., etc., are content to take Easter lying down—in bed—hors de combat through a brace of buns.
What would you say if Saturday started to park itself on Monday, and Sunday took to skidding all over the week with the mobility of a butcher's baby in a bath? What, for instance, would be the state of your rave-lengths if, after sacrificing your grog allowance on a brace of coloured matches and a desiccated hurdy-gurdy for the infant Samuel, you suddenly discovered that Guy Fawke's day had slipped into the middle of Ash Wednesday?
Naturally you would go up in the air like a sky rocket.
Tune-in to the ballad of the bunless boy and the story of a mother's love that would not let her chee-ild be bun-coed by bun-combe.
Ton.”
“Weighty Evidence.”
Myboy with a hot-cross bun—
Ton.”
Ah—how do I know the game is square,
Ah. sobbing reader, “sufficient unto the dazed is the upheavel thereof,” so why worry about such April-foolishness. In the words of that grand old Spanish sera-grenade or tear-bomb entitled, Men of Garlic:
flagrantbreath;
Form:
Strictly speaking, dear reader, an onion speaks for itself; it possesses a powerful backwash—not the species of acrobatical problem-play you stage in the bath with a young yard-broom, in the last act of which you have to be untied by the plumber and his offsider—but a backwash similar to that produced by the ragged edges of the ocean slopping over the earth, and then getting the wind up and rushing back into the briny.
ThatUp?”
Undoubtedly, dear reader, one thing brings up another, and this applies to the “briny” perhaps more directly than to any other of the earth's organs. What does the term “briny” suggest, apart from the tit-bits the butcher parks in the pickle keg and sells under an
“Easter lying down, ‘hors de combat.’”
“Jonah was wrapped up in his whale.”
Personally I have never exchanged reminiscences with a Mako on the hoof, or crossed blades with a sword-fish; but the weight of evidence seems to point to the fact that the Jonah affair was a very wan encounter when compared with sharko-marking, or vice versa. Undoubtedly Jonah was wrapped up in his whale, but could he have left such a mark on a Mako? Makoing is no pastime for a Jonah.
A friend of mine who has spent some time and money in the Bay of Lie-lands, tells me that Mako-sharking is the most intoxicating of the liquid vices; when the Mak-ologist slings his hook he never knows what he is going to bring up, especially if the sea is over-emotional; in fact, the beginner is advised to keep his boots securely laced. My fishing friend succeeded in saving His sole, but that was practically the only ballast he found when he called the roll.
He asserts that the Mako is a gregarious guy who craves human companionship so avidly that he often attempts to climb aboard for a bite and sup. Such affection, however, is looked on by the more generously upholstered sportsman as smacking of the flesh spots; but the Mako's passion for human companionship is so marked that he sometimes helps himself to a bite of the boat, in order to “get closer” to his clients; elevating his countenance, he seems to say “Let's get together boys, something deep down inside me seems to tell me that you and I will agree; nothing makes me ill, anyway.”
That sharko-marking is an uncertain sort of pastime is evidenced by the fact that the Mark-operator is strapped into his arm-chair so that the Mako will not get him all at once, if something in the Mako-catching mechanism slips a cog.
Unfortunately my informant's narrative ends abruptly here, because suddenly a realisation of the abysmal futility of fishing, and the vanity of all things venal gripped him amidships. So he sank wanly abaft the bulwarks and communed with the anchor.
But let us lilt:
“Communed with the anchor.”
“Collar Daze.”
Fishing and Railing both require lines, but whereas you run Out the one you run On the others; also, both provide food for thought, or bait for the brain; but the railways are veritable trains of thought, cornucopias of comfort, and, in fact, migratory movies. When Easter eggs you on to unhitch the harness and hike over the horizon, to decentralise your domicile for the duration of the holler-days, you naturally Rail your enthusiasm to the spot marked X-pectation, and why? Because immediately you entrain your holiday is in train; in a train, the holiday spirit is as thick as the lug of a “pug,” it percolates the pores, titillates the temperature, and stretches the hiatus between holler-days and collar-daze, with the impunity of a thoroughly licked liquorice-ladder.
Second Return On The RailwayEgg whether you travel “first” or Second Return On The Railway.
Organisation in Relation to the Railway Industry
Mr. H. H. Sterling, General Manager, N.Z. Rlys., on The Meaning of Management-Sharing
“If we can cach, at the Hutt Valley Workshops, save five minutes per day—I do not mean force the men along, there are other ways to do it—a sum of £6,000 to £7,000 would be saved in the course of a year in this workshop alone. Imagine what that saving would be if a similar result could be achieved throughout the service.”—Mr. A. E. P. Walworth, Manager, Railway Workshops, Hutt Valley.
This translation of time into terms of money saved occurred in the speech of the Works Manager, Mr. A. E. P. Walworth, at the first reunion of officers associated with the Petone and Hutt Valley Railway Workshops.
Referring to what Mr. Walworth had said about organisation, Mr. H. H. Sterling (General Manager) said it was a good sign that so many were found to be thinking along the same lines. The old order was changing.
Among the changes was the coming of motor competition.
Winners Of Coates Shield, 1929–30.
Nelson Railway Cricket Team.
Back row (left to right): Messrs. W. F. Collin (capt.), N. Johnson, V. Croft, F. E. Westrupp (manager). Middle row: D. Lucas, G. I. Summers, E. Courtney. Front row: C. A. Chapman, D. Bannerman, D. W. Hill.
In relation to that, railwaymen felt that the railways were in the position of an only son having to share a heritage when a little brother arrived. This little brother was growing up to vigorous manhood; his rights could not be denied, he had to have them. But what the railways could help to do was to make their joint heritage bigger, so that when the little brother grew up he would get his share, while the railways’ share would be no less. (Applause.) “It is our business to make the railways of greater and greater use to the public. They are still a power in the country, and they will continue to be that while the railways loyally continue to do the country's work.”
Mr. Sterling acknowledged the tribute paid to those who had planned the workshops, and those who had carried them through. They had come through a storm of criticism, much of it ill-informed. Most of the critics failed to recognise that the men were entitled to have the tools and facilities which modern inventions could supply, and decent industrial surroundings. So far as that went, goodness was but a relative term — what was good enough yesterday was not good enough to-day. He complimented the Works Manager on the standard that has been set in the new shops, and said that he felt sure his efforts were appreciated by those under him. There were obligations associated with improvements such as had been effected in the Hutt Valley Workshops. “As you get the means for more efficiency, more efficiency is expected. As the material standard of the conditions under which you work is raised, so must there be an improvement in the production standard. As a man at the present day is a different being from what he was in the time of, say, Edward III., so must his methods in the point of organisation in relation to industry be different, and continuously progressive.”
They were part of an organised system. Organisation simply meant the combining principle of an organism. It might be likened to the human body. If one part of the human organism got out of harmony with the others, physical pain resulted. A growing boy had growing pains—the workshops were in the growing stage, and some of the industrial pains manifested themselves in criticism of the kind he had mentioned. Sometimes the pain arose through one part of the organism not working in with the others.
A Typical Everyday Workshop Scene.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A section of the locomotive repair shop, Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington, New Zealand.
He recognised that duty within the organisation ran downwards as well as upwards. The handling of men did not depend alone upon disciplinary methods. Sometimes it was thought that the only time attention was paid to those below them by senior officers was when things went wrong. That was a mistaken idea. The disciplinary part of the job was the least pleasant for everyone. “I always like to regard the men under me,” said Mr. Sterling, “as decent human beings who believe that I am actuated by the best motives for their welfare in the industrial and any other sphere, and I believe that you believe that! (Applause.)
“In publicity work the advertising man cannot do his job properly unless his work is founded on absolute belief in the soundness of the proposition he is putting up. We have from time to time in the past heard references about the staff having a share in the management. I have never been quite able to understand what exactly was wanted. If the suggestion is that the railways should be managed by democratic vote, I am sure it only needs to be so stated for its impossibility to be apprehended. If, on the other hand, it means that every man should be allowed to develop his individuality in his job to the utmost extent possible, then I say, without hesitation, that, so far as I am concerned at any rate, everybody from the lowest up to the top has a share in the management. As railwaymen, you should know more about the railways, their capacity for service and such other matters in connection with them, than those who are not railwaymen. The
“We must let the public know,” continued Mr. Sterling, “that we can do a good job. That is the policy I have pursued and shall continue to pursue. When critics tell me I must clean up this or that, I certainly look into it, but my job and your job is largely one of public education on the lines that will enable them to understand the value of the work we are doing, and its extensive, far-reaching, beneficial effects on public welfare.
“I want you to feel that that is a job worth while, and though I hardly expect you to go out, as did the disciples of old, and preach the gospel of railways to all and sundry, I urge that you should never let a chance go by of defending and speaking for the Department. If criticism arises anywhere, the thing to do is to carry it on and endeavour to bring others up to a true sense of the position. I feel sure that, if that is done by our 19,000 employees, we shall get somewhere.
“Beware of little expenses”—Franklin.
A striking example of stationery economy in the New Zealand Public Service. (This envelope had contained enclosures for each of the Government officers shewn, before it was discarded.)
“This is a case for combined effort. I say definitely that no man can put the railways where we would like them to be in public esteem. This can only be done in two ways. One: By organised effort right throughout our service; and two, by personal association with the community. On this point each of you has a share with the management, and a corresponding responsibility. I thank you. too, for the work you have done in the past year. I have made many calls on you that might, at times, have appeared unreasonable. But you have never failed to respond. You have done great work under very difficult ‘change-over’ conditions, and I hope that the present year may be one of just reward to all.”
With The Empire Farmers In The South Island.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
(1) Members of the Empire Farmers' Party at the “Sign of the Kiwi,” Cashmere Hills, Christchurch, on the run to Akaroa; (2) the Mayor of Akaroa, Mr. F. Armstrong (left), and Mr. S. R. Whitley (leader of the Empire Farmers' Party); (3) a glimpse of picturesque Akaroa; (4) South African farmers inspecting sheep at Pigeon Bay; (5), (6), (8) and (9) scenes at Lincoln Agricultural College, Canterbury; (10) Dr. Hilgendorf Principal of Lincoln College) left, and Mr. A. Steel (British Farmers' Party); (11) and (14) ploughing demonstration at Lincoln College; (12) testing wool; (15) the Hon. D. Buddo (centre), with visiting British farmers, Mr. W. Dunlop (left), and Mr. J. H. Rowland (right).
Our London Letters
One of the great efforts of the Home Railways at the present time is to popularise railway travel. The experience of the New Zealand Railways, in respect to motor competition generally, tallies closely with that of the four big group Railways of Britain. In his present Letter our Special London Correspondent outlines the methods designed to deal with this problem in the Homeland, and reviews other rail transport developments in Britain and on the Continent.
At Home, the railways themselves have, to a considerable degree, overcome the competition of the road carrier, by acquiring, wholly or in part, interests in the leading road-carrying undertakings. However, the problem of loss of passenger business arising through the growth of private motor car ownership, still remains a difficult one.
Broadly speaking, there are three main ways by which railway travel may be popularised. It may be bettered, it may be cheapened, and it may be more widely advertised. In each of these directions much is being performed by the Home railways at the present juncture. The betterment of the Home railway services takes the form of speeding up the main-line working, introducing new services where these are likely to attract business, brightening up railway premises generally, and giving the traveller increased comfort and courtesy. In the long distance runs, innovations such as wireless broadcasts, cinema performances, and impromptu dances, are being given a trial, while improvements also are being introduced in the catering branch. The cheapening of railway travel mainly takes the form at Home of affording specially cheap facilities for the day excursionist and the week-ender, and there are now an abundance of cheap travel facilities provided for all classes. As regards advertising, ambitious publicity campaigns are being conducted at Home and abroad by each of the four big group railways, and, as a result, increased bookings are likely this season to all the tourist haunts of the Homeland.
London is essentially the great railway centre of Great Britain, and the traffic problem in this great modern Babylon has now reached an acute stage. It is not the main line traffic of the metropolis which occasions cause for concern, but rather movement within the city itself, and between the city and the surrounding suburbs, many of which have grown with tremendous rapidity since the Great War. London's principal transportation services are those of the main line railways, the tube and underground undertakings, the various motor omnibus carriers, and the street electric tramway services. To meet better the needs of London traffic, a proposal is now under review providing for the unification of transportation agencies within the metropolitan area, and the setting up of a single authority charged with the administration and operation of all the London railway, omnibus and tramway systems.
The four main line railways running into London are concerned with this scheme only so far as it affects their heavy suburban business. The attention which is now being devoted to this phase of railway working may quite well result in the early electrification of suburban routes in the London area. One of the electrification works likely to be commenced at an early date is the conversion to electricity of
Not only on the passenger side is coordination between rail and road taking place at Home. In the movement of freight traffic a great deal is also being done by rail and road in combination. In this connection particular interest is attached to the container system of freight handling, which is being developed on extensive lines by the four group railways of Britain. For some years containers have been employed to a limited degree for the movement of small merchandise at Home. Now large fleets of containers are being brought into use for the expeditious and safe handling of miscellaneous freight of every kind.
Modern Freight Handling.
A typical container as employed on the Home Railways.
The L.M. and S. Railway has just acquired a number of insulated containers for the movement of meat, fruit, vegetables, and other perishables. These containers, which are built of wood, and insulated by means of cork slabs, are 12ft. long, 6ft. 2in. wide, and 6ft. 4in. high. A load of four tons is carried, and the tare weight of the container is 35cwts. By the L. and N.E. Railway, some 200 steel containers, with a tare weight of only one ton, have recently been put into traffic. These carry a load of four tons, and their internal dimensions are as follows, viz: length 13ft. 10in., width 6ft. 6in., height 6ft. 8in. Following the lead set by the British railways, it may be noted that America is now interesting herself in container transport. The Baltimore and Ohio system is the pioneer of the container in the United States, and very shortly all the American railways will probably become converts to this convenient system of freight handling.
Locomotive development has now reached an exceptionally interesting stage, and it is not surprising that, in view of the ever-growing demand for increased power and speed, many novel types of experimental engines should now be finding their way into traffic. One of the most interesting steam locomotives to be built is the new high-pressure engine not long completed for service on the express passenger runs of the L. and N.E. system between London and Scotland.
This new L. and N. E. R. locomotive has a water - tube boiler with the unusually high pressure of 450lbs. per sq. in. It is a 4-cylinder compound engine of the “Baltic” 4-6-4 wheel arrangement, the six coupled driving wheels being 6ft. 8in. diameter. In outward appearance the engine is an entire departure from previous practice. The boiler has been constructed to the extreme limits of the gauge, and there is no room for a chimney to project above the boiler. The chimney, therefore, is sunk within casing plates. The whole of the air supplied to the firegrate is pre-heated, the supply being taken from the front of the smoke-box, passing down a space between the boiler and the casings. The two cast steel high pressure cylinders are of 12in. diameter and 26in. stroke, driving on to the leading coupled wheels. The two low pressure cylinders have a diameter of 20in. and a stroke of 26in., and drive the intermediate pair of coupled wheels. The engine, with its tender of the well-known “Flying Scotsman” corridor type, weighs nearly 170 tons, and is the longest and heaviest passenger locomotive in Great Britain.
It is a trifle curious that at a time when railways the world over are seeking to turn out bigger and more powerful locomotives for main line working, there should also be proceeding a very serious search for an efficient light haulage unit for branch line operation. Light
The Home Railways employ considerable numbers of rail-cars. The L. and N.E. system has in service 44 Sentinel-Canmell steam rail-cars, 11 Clayton steam rail-cars, and one petrol rail-car. Steam rail-cars on this system are worked by a driver and fireman, no guard being carried. They attain a maximum speed of 40 miles an hour, and their average fuel consumption works out at between 12lbs. and 13lbs.
Britain'S Biggest Passenger Locomotive.
The powerful new 4-6-4 type of Express locomotive (described in the letterpress) of the London and North Eastern Railway.
In Italy, the railways have recently acquired a number of what promise to be very useful Diesel-electric rail-cars for service mainly on lines of light traffic density. These cars, the product of the Fiat works, in Turin, each accommodate 110 passengers seated, have an overall length of 59ft. 6½in., and attain speeds of up to 35 miles an hour. The cars carry both first and second-class passengers, are provided with special accommodation for luggage and postal mails, and may be driven from either end. The Diesel engine has six cylinders, and works on the four-cycle principle, with direct fuel injection. Two traction motors, mounted together on one bogie, are series excited, with six main and six commutating poles, and each drives one axle of the bogie through reducing gear. The fuel tanks carry fuel for eight hours’ running.
The progress marked in every branch of the Italian railway industry is one of the most striking features of post-war development in Europe. Almost every month brings news of some fresh enterprise embarked upon by the Rome authorities, and this month there is to be recorded the decision of the Italian State Railways to proceed at once with the construction of a new railway route aiming at giving an additional line of communication between Italy and Germany. The new railway is planned to run from Mals, in Trentino, to Gomagoi, thence tunnelling the Stelvio Pass and passing through the Ortler Mountains, to Bormio, where a connection will be effected with a new line running to Tirano, in Lombardy, the northern outpost of the Italian State Railways. Between Mals and Landeck, in Austria, the building of a new railway track is provided for by the Peace Treaty of St. Germain, and the effect of the opening up of the Mals-Tirano and Mals-Laneck routes will be to shorten considerably the rail distance between Italian and Central European cities. At present, the distance between Milan and Munich, via the Brenner Pass, is some 375 miles. The new route will involve a journey of only approximately 300 miles between the same points. The new
The Italian State Railways, although owned and operated by the Government, are run on essentially commercial lines. This move has been favoured by many of the Governmentowned railway systems of Europe of late years, and now comes the news of the proposed early commercialisation of the State Railways of Poland. The Polish State Railways were formed, after the Great War, from railways previously belonging to Russia, Germany and Austria. These lines naturally suffered very greatly during civilisation's struggle and in the Bolshevik troubles which followed, and, on the setting up of the new railway undertaking serving the new Poland, a most ambitious and comprehensive rehabilitation plan was drawn up. As a result of these efforts, transport in Poland has been put on an efficient basis. Track works, and rolling-stock of modern type have been acquired, and to-day the Polish railway system consists of 17,235 kilometres of sound track. Locomotives number 5,215, passenger carriages 11,940, and goods wagons 144,650. At the present time, attention is being devoted to the doubling of single tracks, and the linking up of the various sections of the system which, in pre-war days, constituted parts of separate railway undertakings.
A Tourist Haunt Of Old-World England.
(Photo, courtesy of the Great Western Rly.)
The East Gate in the ancient walled City of Chester.
One of the most important of European passenger trains—the Simplon-Orient Express—will shortly serve to forge a new railway link between Europe and the Near East. At present the Simplon-Orient Express from Paris has its eastern terminal at Stamboul, Constantinople. Now, however, a train ferry is to be constructed between this terminal and Haidar Pasha, the western terminal of the Baghdad Railway, on the opposite side of the Bosphorus. By means of this ferry, carriages off the Simplon-Orient Express will be transported across the Bosphorus to Haidar Pasha, and there coupled on to a new train, to be known as the “Trans-Taurus Express,” operating between Haidar Pasha, Aleppo, Cairo and Baghdad.
The new “Trans-Taurus Express” will operate three times weekly in each direction. It will be composed of luxurious day, sleeper and restaurant cars of the International Sleeping Car Company. The new service will give much quicker connection between London, Paris and the Near East, and the running of the “Trans-Taurus Express” in connection with the new Bosphorus train ferry will mark the opening of a new era in railway travel.
“Umbrageous grots and caves of cool recess.”—Milton.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
One of the many beautiful fairy-like caves on the Wanganui River, North Island, New Zealand.
James Cowan
High up in the papa-walled gorge of the Wanganui River, the powerful stream came rolling and roaring down between its straight cliffs, kiekie-fringed and tree-feathered, in a tremendous yellow volume, twenty feet and more above its normal level. The great rains were on; the old hands of Pipiriki, white and Maori, remembered scarcely a wetter season. For nearly a week it had been pouring down steadily, and every tributary creek was a torrent, sending down a furious sluice to swell the main streams and make navigation a matter of difficulty along more than a hundred miles of waterway. Here, at Pipiriki, very nearly sixty miles from the sea, the landing jetty was under water, and the powerful little steamer that carried passengers and goods along this section of the Wanganui tied up well inside and high above her usual berth. The sight of the swollen river, plunging down through its deep valley, was sufficiently wild from the Pipiriki terrace; wilder still was its aspect at very close quarters next day when we set off up-stream through the canyon country to the Maori village of Parinui. Our steamboat was a shallow-draught screw craft specially designed for the hard work of mid-Wanganui navigation. A curious feature about her was the two big rudders she wore, wide apparently out of all proportion to her size; the pair were necessary in this navigation of rough waters.
A Beautiful Scenic Waterway.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
The Houseboat on the Wanganui River, North Island, New Zealand.
I had voyaged down the Wanganui from Taumarunui to the sea in beauteous summer weather, and delighted in the sunny loveliness of it all, and the amazing succession of reflections in the brown mirror-waters as we sped down the calm reaches in that pakeha-Maori craft, a large dug-out canoe with topsides fastened on, and a motor and screw to kick her along. I had paddled about Pipiriki and the old villages there in a smaller waka with greybeard Re-one, a veteran of the river wars.
This time I saw the “Wai-nui-a-Tarawera” — an ancient name of the Wanganui—in a different temper. The successive shallows and rapids had disappeared, covered deeply by the great flood, and the river was in fact one long yellow rapid, against which our struggling steamboat could scarcely make headway in the narrower and swifter runs.
Sometimes we seemed to measure our upstream progress by inches, crawling up with every pound of steam the boilers could safely bear, against a current that threatened often to send us smashing against the perpendicular walls of the canyon.
For this is a true canyon, that section of the Wanganui extending for some forty miles above Pipiriki. The Maoris call it Te Wahi Pari, “The Place of Cliffs.” This immense “pari” region, cut through by some ancient earthquake or volcanic convulsions in a rift that made a drain-way for the wild mountain land, is the most rugged part of the southern half of the North Island; its only rival for boldness of contour is the Urewera mountain country. Absolutely they are walls in many parts of this mid-section of the river, for they rise up to great heights as straightly as the sides of a pile of masonry in a city.
“Far away from town and tower.”—Thomas Bracken.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
A camping party on the bank of the Wanganui River, North Island, New Zealand.papa rock, flood-worn, mossy, kiekie-grown, go up for a hundred to two and three hundred feet, and behind them again the wooded ranges slope up into blue and mist-shrouded peaks. Here and there are slopes, formed by landslides in just such floods as this, or perhaps by earthquake, and on these slopes great forest trees grow in a dense and fragrant forest—the rimu, the rata, the beech or tawai.
In spring I had seen these cliffs and slopes a glory of flowers, when the snowy clematis starred the bushes and trailed along the lower branches of the tall timbers, and when the kowhai's gold emblazoned the banks for miles. Now the flowers had gone, but the glory of the ferns remained; ferns of all degree, from the korau and ponga, with their high slender trunks and their feathery cascades of frondage, to the lycopodium that broidered the rocks, and the bedewed filmy ferns that trembled on the cliff-sides.
Now the flowers had gone; everything was the most vivid wet green, in various shadings from the light green of the fern trees to the deep tintings of the high timber. The water was up over the tops of some of the lower trees and the sharp-pointed curving blades of the kiekie, like mountain flax, were swishing in the discoloured river. It is greener still, this Wanganui, when the floods have subsided and the water is clear; the tints of the wooded cliffs and slopes are so reflected in the river that the bottom of the canyons seems a smooth floor of foliage, with maybe a narrow strip of sky blue in the middle of it.
Though the high river was so muddied, the rains gave the canyon a new and wonderful beauty. From every niche in the cliffs and from every hanging valley poured a waterfall. There were cascades everywhere the two days we steamed up to Parinui and back to Pipiriki. Some leaped from rock to rock down dark
rimu and rata and the cliff-climbing ferntrees.
Sometimes we have glimpses into caves in the cliffs, overhung by drooping ferns and trailing forest-creepers and the ever-present bunches of hanging kiekic. Ruru-popo is one of these caves, a deep dark cavern on the riverside, proper right bank.
“This is a vision for the rest of life.”—Robert Patterson.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
The enchanting “Drop Scene” on the world-famed Wanganui River, North Island, New Zealand.taniwha, or man-devouring monster, had lived.
Yet another cave is a picture to entrance the eye and excite the imagination. It is on the east, or left bank, nearly opposite the Puraroto cave and stream. At the foot of a horseshoeshaped indent or recess in the precipice there is a little level spit, densely grown with plumey ferntrees, and behind is the ana, the cave. Over the rocky front of the cave fall two cascades, twin fountains of silver leaping out from unseen streams.
This singularly lovely spot—albeit an uncomfortably damp one— is called Tu-ka-iriao. It was one of the dwelling places of a small Maori tribe long ago. The rivermen's stockaded pa was on a terrace far above, and to this terrace the people climbed by rough ladders made of the vines of the aka, a tough forest creeper.
In many places along this Place of Cliffs such bush ladders were the only means of reaching the villages. When enemies essayed to scale this precipice the Tu-ka-iriao men cut the aka, and then there were broken heads and limbs among the invaders.
Also, the warriors of this wild gorge camped in the cave on the look-out for intruders poling up the rapids, and the encounter was usually disastrous to the strangers.
Very few invaders got any satisfaction out of fighting the ambuscade-loving Whanganui and Ngati-Hau.
A local proverbial expression, Te Koura putaroa, likens the river tribes to a crayfish, which could always escape its strong foes by retreating into the caves between the cliffs and up the deep defiles, or pounce upon weak ones with its nipping claws. In the Mangaio gorge up yonder, in the narrowest part, where a swift creek comes out of a deep gloomy defile, a war-canoe expedition, under the Northern chief Tuwhare was almost annihilated, a little over a century ago, by the river tribes who gathered here and
papa walls.
In the heart of this formidable river land we tied up to the right or west bank and climbed a steep hill to the largest village in the Wahi Pari, a kainga appropriately called Pari-nui (“Great Cliff”), the headquarters of the Ngati-Ruru, the “Bush-Owls” tribe. They certainly have a secluded home, these human moreporks. The village stands on the hilltop, like an eagle's nest; it is quite 300 feet above the river. So stood most of the healthily-set and easily defended pas of old. This very site was indeed a fortified place in other days. Now the crest of the hill, a space about three hundred yards long and a quarter of that width, has been levelled off to form the marae. At one end of this village assembly ground is the carved meeting-house; at the other end are the dwellings of the principal local people; on one side, on the brink of the steep slope, is a long tent-house for visitors; at the opposite side to that is the dining-hall, with the cooking quarters close handy. A tall flagstaff stands in the middle of the marae. At the back of the hill, convenient to the cooks’ quarters, runs the village water-supply, a clear stream of good water flowing through a gully about thirty feet below the level of the marae. From a well alongside this stream the water was obtained by an ingenious method, borrowed from the pakeha.
“Where the white-haired cataract booms.”
(Photo, E. D. Burt.).
The Huka Falls, Waikato River, North Island, New Zealand.
High, well-drained, well-built, and with a good water supply, Parinui is quite a model Maori village. But when we saw it first that season of the big rains it was muddy beyond description. The guests—it was a political meeting—sat wrapped in rugs in the meeting-house. I found the Chief of the place, Te Uira-Tu-ki-te-rangi (“The Lightning in the Sky”) lying in a tent at one end of the marae in a gloomy, most disconsolate mood.
We lay at our ease and watched the wonderful moving picture of the green-banked Wanganui reeled off as we flew along on the top of the flood. It was a thrilling run down stream to Pipiriki, less than an hour, as against three hours coming up. Sometimes we were within half-a-dozen feet of the straight-carved cliffs, lifting for hundreds of feet above the sucking whirlpools. Sometimes the over-stretching trees left broken-off lower branches strewed over our awning and on our deck. Up yonder, one thought, it would be a glorious life in Parinui on the mountain-top when the grand sunny weather came.
Reservation of Seats
Introduction of Improved System
An extension of the facilities provided for reservation of seats by intending passengers on the New Zealand Railways, and improvements in the system of making and recording these reservations have been arranged. The new system now about to be introduced is briefly outlined in the following article.
Formerly the fee for reservation was ninepence per passenger, and, if the passenger reserved at an “out-station,” he was required to pay an additional fee of ninepence to cover the cost of the telegram to the main station at which the lists were held and the reservations made. The fee has now been fixed at a flat rate of one shilling. This covers the cost of the reserving and telegraph or other fees involved.
Fourteen was the maximum number of days in advance of date of travel that any passenger could make reservation, and personal application at the booking office was necessary. Now, however, arrangements for reservation may be completed at any time desired, and passengers unable to call at the booking office may make tentative arrangements by telegram or telephone and complete the transaction as arranged between the passenger and the booking clerk.
Numbering And Recording Machine.
1. Recorder; 2, safety catch to prevent involuntary operation of machine; 3, safety catch to prevent the numbers being out of step with recorder; 4 and 9, rubber stamping; pad; 5, 6, 7, 8, shewing (5) ticket after being numbered; (6) the booking clerk's identification letter; (7) progressive number of ticket; (8) name of issuing station.
Coincident with the improved facilities for booking seats, it became necessary to devise improved methods of dealing with the business.
Under the old system, the booking clerks were supplied with a plan of each class of carriage and a berthing list. When a passenger desired to reserve a seat, the booking clerk issued a paper ticket on which the following entries were required before the ticket was handed to the passenger: station of issue; date of issut; stations from and to; number of seats and amount paid; details of seats reserved
Attention to all this detail took considerable time and the possibility of errors (and the difficulty in locating such errors) was ever present, especially when other offices in the same centre were working on an allotment of the seats and the station itself was making reservations from “out-stations.”
After a considerable amount of investigation it was decided, in order to hasten the work and to reduce, as far as possible, the risk of duplication
For convenience in reserving seats, each car is given a letter designation, and, as far as possible, these letter designations are standardised; for instance:—The letter Z represents a first-class smoker; B, a second-class smoker; Y, a first-class non-smoker; C, a second-class non-smoker; and L, a ladies’ car.
Each car is allotted a card, perforated into a number of tickets, corresponding with the number of seats in the car. The tickets are complete, except that, at time of issue, the destination station is to be entered thereon. Arranged immediately behind the card is the corresponding office list and, as a ticket is removed, the duplicate seat number on this list becomes visible. In this manner the particulars in reference to station from and to which passenger is travelling, may easily be entered without any risk of the wrong space being utilised for this purpose.
As a passenger is allotted a seat, the ticket is merely detached from the perforated card and the necessary entries (stations from, and to, which seat is reserved) made on the office copy.
This office copy is handed to the guard on the departure of the train.
Each booking clerk is supplied with a numbering machine which registers in one action, on the back of the ticket, its progressive number and the station of issue, the booking clerk then merely having to insert the passenger's destination station.
The numbering machine has on it a device which shows on a visible register the number of the last ticket issued. Thus the accounting is extremely simple, the daily debit in shillings being merely the difference between the opening and closing numbers.
The Storage Cabinet.
Shewing trays for holding sets of tickets—each sheet representing a car, and each ticket a seat.
1, Plan of carriage; 2, portion of berthing list beneath where ticket has been removed; 3, celluloid signals.
There are a number of interesting and useful features embodied in the numbering machine. For instance, it cannot be operated unconsciously, and, on account of an ingenious attachment which renders erroneous manipulation impossible, the registering device must shew the same number as the stamping machine.
Full provision has been made for reservations required from “out-stations” and also for several reservations of the same seat for different stages of the journey between the terminal stations. The method is to use the card ticket for the first reservation, and paper tickets (with carbon duplicates) for subsequent reservations of the same seat, such reservations being checked at the close of business each day.
Arrangements are made for two or three offices reserving on the same train by marking off the tickets allotted to the other offices, provision also being made, whenever necessary, for the exchange of such seats between the different offices.
The cards, which are 11in. × 9in., are housed in Kardex cabinets. Forty-four cards are accommodated in one tray, and nine trays make up one cabinet. Approximately, the cards for a train for three days are housed in one tray, and one cabinet holds the cards for one train for a month.
In order to expedite booking and prevent the possibility of error, different coloured tickets are used for different classes of cars.
For “out station” reservations there is a system of code words for the respective trains and the respective classes of seats. These are printed with other necessary information on the visible portions of the cards in the trays, that telegrams received may be decoded with a minimum of trouble.
There is also provision for a system of signalling on the visible portion of the cards, when in the Kardex tray. By this means it can be seen at a glance how the reservations are proceeding. For instance—
Red: Car full.
Blue: Car full from station of departure, but seats available for reservation from intermediate stations.
Yellow: Do not book this car till Z car is booked up.
When the tickets are being prepared for the trays, particulars in regard to the date and time of departure of the train are endorsed on the tickets by means of an adjustable metal disc date stamp.
The system has had a thorough trial and has been found satisfactory in every respect. The risk of error is reduced to a minimum, the tickets are fully printed and therefore more legible to passengers than written tickets, and the work is performed in a minimum of time. It is possible, during rush periods, to divide the booking among any number of clerks and afterwards return to normal working without any disorganisation of the system. The cost is less, and accounting simple and effective.
During a recent four-weekly period, the Wellington reserved seat offices issued no less than 14,500 reserved seat tickets for passengers travelling from Wellington, besides allotting seats for a very large number of passengers joining trains (which departed from Wellington) at “out-stations.”
Mr. G. T. Wilson of the Head Office staff of the New Zealand Railways is principally responsible for the details of the scheme, and Mr. F. Freed in charge of the Mechanical Branch of the Chief Accountant's office is responsible for the registering and numbering devices embodied in the new system.
Reserved Seat Tickets.
The illustration shews: (1) and (2) berthing list underneath tickets that have been issued to passengers; (3) celluloid signal; (4) telegraph code word for train; and (5) telegraph code word for seats.
Obituary
The death in Wellington recently of Mr. W. J. Edwards, first General Secretary of the Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants, removes a notable figure from our Railway life, and recalls the eventful times associated with the early history of the Society. The late Mr. Edwards was Stationmaster at Tuakau (in the Auckland district) in 1888, when a number of railwaymen decided to form a Trades Union. Demands for the establishment of branches in other districts followed, and Mr. Edwards was induced to resign from the railway service and organise the movement on a national scale. This he did with conspicuous success, branches being established in six centres, with a total membership of 3,100, within one year of the assumption of his new office. The first National Conference of the A.S.R.S. was held in Christchurch, in March, 1890, at which Mr. Edwards was appointed National Secretary. He subsequently established The Railway Review, the monthly journal of the A.S.R.S., and was its editor for many years. The fact that the A.S.R.S. is, to-day, one of the most prosperous and influential organisations in New Zealand is due largely to the able leadership and devoted services of the late Mr. Edwards. Mr. Edwards relinquished the General Secretaryship of the Society in 1908 (being succeeded by Mr. M. J. Mack), rejoined the service, and, for the last few years of his life was employed in the Chief Accountant's Branch of the Railways in Wellington.
The deceased, who leaves a widow and several children, was seventy-three years of age.
The Beautiful Forest Way of the North Island Main Trunk Railway, New Zealand
A goods train (hauled by a Garratt locomotive) crossing the Makatote Viaduct. This, the imposing railway bridge on the North Island Main Trunk system, spans a forest gorge, on the run between Erua and Pokako. The viaduct is a lattice-steel structure, bedded in cacrete, 860ft. in length and 260ft. in height. (When the visibility is good, train travellers obtain
W. S. Dale
Mr. Dale continues his interesting series of articles on Industrial Psychology. In his present contribution he deals with the special activities, medical, educational and social, of the workshops and factory. These functions have come to be regarded by leaders of industry as indispensable factors in modern industrial organisation.
Most modern undertakings have come to the realisation that the employer is not solely concerned with labour in the objective sense. Buying labour is expensive, and, if only on that account, it is necessary that care should be exercised in conserving it as far as possible. It is evident that the American factory which provides a hospital and a dental surgery for its employees balances the costs of doctor, nurse, dentist and equipment, against loss of time on medical or dental scores. It “pays,” obviously, or else it would have been discarded long since.
Considering the matter without succumbing to sentimental weakness, the works manager realises that medical attention is better “on tap” than “just round the corner.” The worker, of course, learns to regard the work's medical assistance as an integral part of the factory—something upon which he can pin his faith. These two aspects are complementary.
At present, the Railway Workshops in New Zealand are evolving what is, I believe, a better system than that in some American shops. Take, for example, the history of the “medical” side of the Department's Workshops at Otahuhu. It is rather interesting. Until quite recently skilled attention for cuts, bruises and minor accidents, was not always available. A co-operative movement was, therefore, initiated, to increase the membership of the St. John's Ambulance Association. The aim was to reach sufficient numbers so that one man could be on duty each day at the “first aid” room. The result is highly encouraging. To-day there is an enthusiasm for first aid work in the shops which is finding expression through a full strength, well organised division of “St. John's.” The room records a “log” well worth inspection. The equipment is excellent, while the underlying principle of “service-in-aid” is already becoming firmly established.
The complementary aspects referred to earlier are acknowledged without quibble. The thoughtful man, however, will see that there is a tremendous social gain, because efficient service at the shops entails a working knowledge of given principles which are not esoteric, as in the case of a doctor. Workshop knowledge is carried out into society. The realisation that major cases could not be treated satisfactorily in the small quarters at present available, led some of the more enterprising men to conclude an arrangement with a local medico whereby suitable, immediate attention was obtained for employees. The next goal is, I am informed, a fully equipped ambulance, to keep contact with the hospital. At risk of labouring the point the line of thought brought to bear is interesting. “If we wish to take a case to hospital,” said the manager, “it takes forty minutes. With our own ambulance we could cut the time in half.” This thorough probing of executive matters is part of the function of the Division upon which all shops in the works are represented.
Equally important with the physical, is the mental care which modern industry bestows on its hands. To-day, more than ever before, we realise that “blind” effort is, relatively speaking, a drag on the wheel of the car. It is in the interests of all that the effort should be conditioned by knowledge as to where it will be most effective. The “superficial workman” is giving place to the “educated artisan.” Recently I found men doing mechanical work who could discuss, with refreshing vigour, the philosophy of Plato. While no one desires to see a nation of “highbrows” it would be manifestly absurd to decry positive education among those who, unlike the lilies of the field, toil that we may live. The educated worker is a greater asset to the
“By medicine life may be prolonged.”—Shakespeare.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Ambulance Room at the Department's Workshops, Hutt Valley, Wellington.
Such is, briefly, the position in regard to education. I believe that what I have said is the motive which caused the Railway Department to set up its Trade Schools. The apprentices, each of whom is considered as an ultimate official in embryo, are given a thorough technical training in respect to the section to which they belong. At no stage is the school divorced from work. Problems of the shops are brought into the school for solution; theory from the school room is put into practice in the shops. At the end of the apprenticeship period it can be said, without fear of contradiction, that the journeyman is well equipped to take his part in his department. He has the complete technical comprehension of his job. The rest is in his own hands. The system is designed to carry on the department without too much change in fundamental organisation, but allowing, within the department, freedom to develop along modern lines.
It will be obvious that the organisation of such a tremendous undertaking as the Railways cannot be made very often. Changes along lines of modern practice can, however, be introduced within the shop itself. For this reason the schools must be a powerful influence, as more of these specifically trained workers take places of major importance in the service. All indications warrant the platitude that “the man who has been through the mill knows most about it.” If these boys know workshop practice intimately, they must, in the final issue, be better executives, provided the other conditions of constructive thought and modern theory are not far behind.
In taking this line of thought the Railways are following what is virtually a practice in large factories elsewhere. Recently a German factory owner, in discussing training methods, told me that all the heads of the departments in his shops (employing just over a thousand hands), were trained in the firm's school. Specialisation was encouraged to such a degree that each foreman had an intimate knowledge of all factors relevant to his department. Similarly do we find
Although endorsing the principle of trade schools, more might be said of a better method of selection. At present we are working upon “hit or miss” methods in accepting apprentices. No matter how perfect the system may be, the fact remains that the boys choose, by their applications, their own field of work.
“Each excellent thing, once well learned, serves for a measure of all other knowledge.”—Sir P. Sidney.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Apprentice Class in session at the Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington.
The engineer will appreciate at once the gain these tests will give. It is essential that, in an assembly shop, plans and sketches of component parts should be readily assimilated. Time wasted upon questions and long oral explanations cannot be made up; a pre-requisite for such a shop is that aspect of mentality which the tests are designed to measure. Unitl there is evolved some method of classifying boys under certain aptitudes there is a possibility of round pegs being fitted into square holes. Such a condition means mental strain on the individual, and production is hampered by slow and poor work without the foreman being certain of the cause. Generally, the signs of industrial misfits are abundant. Slipshod work combined with continuous sickness of a slight nature, e.g., headaches, “not feeling up to the mark,” etc., often point to something being wrong. Add to this a machine which needs continual attention, drawn features, and an admission that the workman is “done up” at the end of his labour unit, and you have discovered a potential social menace—the round peg in a square hole. It is not right that health should suffer, nor is it reasonable to expect an individual so affected to reach the maximum output. It is better that he be transferred to work at which his capabilities can be utilised without the inner strain—the outward signs of which we have just noted. How many boys are drafted into wrong jobs it is impossible to judge, but in a highly specialised organisation such as our Railway Department there is no place for “trial and error” methods. Selectivity would pay handsomely.
At the beginning of these articles maximum output was stressed. Subsequently some effects of fatigue were considered. What has been said there, has also its influence on the lunch hour spell. It is essential that the worker quits the bench or shop for a meal. Downright sweating methods originated a plan by which the worker was close to his job. It is no ionger necessary to curtail the meal period, nor is it advisable. The reasons for a complete withdrawal from work are twofold. On the psychological side it means a definite chance to “get away from work.” Too close an association with the tools in hourly use results in ennui; and too close contact brings about fatigue, with all the evils associated therewith. No matter how modern or up-to-date a shop may be the physiological effects cannot be lessened. Fresh air is always welcome. To take meals in a contaminated atmosphere must have a bad effect on the digestive processes. This must react upon the health of workers, who thus become less efficient. To ask for good work from men who are expected to partake of food under insanitary and uncomfortable conditions is, to say the least, ridiculous. Men working under modern hygienic conditions welcome a lunch room, where there are facilities for a hot drink and freshly cooked meal.
“Relaxation is a physical and moral necessity.”—Horace Greeley.
‘(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Hutt Valley Workshops Social Hall, recently officially opaned by the Minister of Labour (Hon. W. A. Veitch).
The Otahuhu Social Hall has certainly given a chance for many to express themselves in thought, in dramatic utterance, or through music. Others, who prefer to have a community amusement, have this desire met by dances and socials. In short, the social factors in relation to work have been envisaged in the most modern manner by the manager, who has given no small part of his spare time to the development of what is, obviously, the antithesis of the “old shop.” Housing has not escaped attention, and ways and means have been devised for making homes for the workers. Thus we have a spectacle of a Government Department carrying into effect the ideals of “garden cities” of the Old World in a country noted for the daring social experiments it has made, and will, in all probability continue to make.
By Those Who Like Us
From Mr. E. R. Hodge, Education Office, Wanganui, to the General Manager of Railways, Wellington:—
I desire to express to you the Board's appreciation of the assistance and excellent service extended to us by your Department, and particularly by the Stationmaster at Ongarue, the Transport Officer at Ohakune, and the Traffic Manager, Wanganui, by the promptitude displayed in the transport of materials necessary to permit of the urgent erection of temporary buildings to house the 500 pupils rendered homeless by the closing, as unsafe, of the Technical College in this city.
* * *
From Mr. H. Tanner, Marine Department, Wellington to the Chief Clerk, Head Office, New Zealand Railways:—
Having just returned to Wellington after accompanying the family of the late Captain Bollons to the Bluff to attend the funeral, I feel I must express to you my personal appreciation of the courteous and sympathetic treatment received from the members of your Department at Lyttelton, Christchurch, Invercargill and the Bluff.
In addition, I must say that the efficiency displayed by the arrangements made could not be excelled.
* * *
From Mr. G. W. Waymouth, Branch Manager, Magnus Motors, Hastings, to Mr. J. Sharkay, Stationmaster, Hastings:—
We wish to place on record our appreciation of the helpfulness extended to us by you and your inside and outside staffs at the Hastings goods shed in connection with the locating and delivering at the unloading platform, at a late hour, the three cars consigned to us from Wellington. The delivery of the cars was vital to the completeness of our exhibit at the show.
I can assure you that this action on the part of the members of your staff was greatly appreciated, not only by the writer, but also by those with me who had to prepare the cars for exhibition.
* * *
From Mr. John Reid, Principal, South Otago High School, Balctutha, to the District Traffic Manager, Dunedin:—
I wish to convey my thanks to your Department for the excellent arrangements made for our High School excursion to Dunedin.
The courteous consideration at Balclutha, at Dunedin, and by the Milton Station-master in arranging travel for our Lovells Flat pupils by a slow train, and also the consideration of the Guard—these all made our trip one of pleasure.
* * *
From Mr. O. M. Jones, Assistant Manager, W. H. Simms and Sons, Ltd., Christchurch, to the District Traffic Manager, Christchurch:—
Regarding the cases of collars just landed by us, ex s.s. “Ruapehu,” we wish to compliment the Department upon the speedy way in which these goods were dealt with, from the time they came out of the ship until delivered into our stores today.
We required these goods urgently, and the service rendered is such as is much appreciated by us.
* * *
From Mr. G. Millen, Wellington, to the District Traffic Manager, Wellington:—
I write this letter on behalf of my wife, brother-in-law, and myself, to express our appreciation and enjoyment of last weekend's excursion to Napier. The obliging and courteous manner of your Guard, and the careful way in which the Driver handled his train also afforded us much pleasure.
To my mind these week-end excursions throughout the summer months are ideal, and afford folk the opportunity of receiving an enjoyable change from their usual daily routine of business.
The Railways At Play.
Scenes at a recent railway picnic, Maidstone Park, Upper Hutt, Wellington.
(1) Mr. H. Buxton (ex-Chief Traffic Manager, New Zeland Railways), Mr. H. J. Wynne (ex-Signal and Electrical Engineer), Colonel T. W. McDonald and Mr. G. W. Wyles (Signal and Electrical Engineer); (2) on the swings; (3) dancing to the music supplied by the orchestra; (4) the single ladies’ race; (5) the Head Office Team (F. A. Goodall, C. O. Genet, G. A. Glover, I. K. Fleming) which was first equal with the Advertising Branch team for the Relay Race Cup; (6) lunching under the trees; (7 and 8) snapshots on the ground.
.)Tangiwai
All sorts of vague legands have grown up around the ruined stone fort on Paremata beach, at the entrance to Porirua Harbour; you can see it from the railway as you approach the Paremata bridge, sixteen miles out of Wellington City. Here are some facts about “Paremata Fortress,” as it was rather grandiloquently styled in despatches eighty-odd years ago. It was major's command in 1846–47, including the posts of Jackson's Ferry and the lately captured pa at Paua-taha-nui. The British officer-in-charge had about 300 men under him. The stone redoubt was finished in 1847, and although greatly damaged by the earthquake of 1848, remained garrisoned until the early ‘Fifties. Not far away from the post “Barney” Rhodes, the trader, had a store where the soldier, the whaler, the settler and the Maori could obtain anything in reason, from “B.P. Rum” and “Best Case Gin” to shawls, calico, pilot coats, tobacco and shoes.
The ruins consist of a considerable portion of the lower walls of the fort, which was a solidly built structure of large stones, with an admixture of red bricks, firmly cemented with a mortar of sand and seashells. The walls still standing are two feet in thickness, about eight to ten feet in height. The building measures about 60 feet by 40 feet, and a stout wall divides it into two sections, which in turn were sub-divided into a number of rooms. Formerly this stone redoubt was surrounded by a stockade, which enclosed also a guard-room, a small hospital for troops, and whares which were occupied by some of the detachments. All traces of this stockade, however, have vanished. The site of this olden scene of military life is now part of a farm, and the ruined walls are a shelter for shivering sheep on the days when the blustering westerlies blow in across the sandshoals at Porirua's entrance. In the days of its youth there were some lively scenes on the Paua-taha-nui inlet, when Lieut. McKillop's gunboat (oars), gave fight to Rangihaeata's war canoes.
* * *
Just about where Eltham town now stands, on the Taranaki Railway line, was a one-time famous Maori retreat and food-foraging place, the Ngaere swamp. Old Maori hands have told me about the glorious times they had there in the days when all this part of the country was an untrimmed, unfenced, undrained wilderness. It was a vast marsh with lagoons and slow-running water-courses and an island-like peninsula running into it. Once, when the Hauhaus were on the run before Colonel Whitmore's troops, the pursuers crossed the quaking bog by means of fascines made by saplings tied with supplejack; and now and again some of these old-time fascines are unearthed by dairy-farmers and drain-diggers, who wonder how the deuce they got there. It was a great place for wild duck and other water-fowl and for eels, that Ngaere swamp, and the Ngati-Ruanui tribesfolk camped there for weeks every year, catching and smoke-drying huge quantities of
Nowadays the face of the country is completely transformed. The ancient swamps are the richest of dairying land; Queen Cow reigns where once millions of eels crawled in the bogs; the barnyard fowl is the wild duck's successor.
The Ever Fascinating “Iron Horse.”
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A scene on the Auckland station, New Zealand, before the departure of a special picnic train.
It is a phase of nation-making and wealth-making that many other parts of New Zealand can show too, as instance the Hauraki Plains and the great Rangitikei levels.
* * *
In the preface to a lately-published collection of New Zealand short stories, the compiler made the remarkable statement in his preface that this country is lacking in much of the elements of romance and adventure. New Zealand has had no frontiersmen, he declared; it has no epic of struggle against mighty forces, and settlement was a prosaic business. No past, in fact nothing of the kind to stimulate the writer. It was an astonishing statement to come from the pen of a New Zealander, or an Australian for that matter. As a writer in an Auckland paper has truly commented, this Dominion is the very last country to which such a remark could apply.
Our pioneer days, our old bush life, our bush wars, our breaking-in period, surely produced a few frontiersmen! I knew some hundreds of them in my time—and I don't admit that I am yet in “the sere and yellow leaf.”
As for that “epic struggle,” a few thousands had all the epic they wanted in that breaking-period, those years of fighting, that era of golddigging and wild adventuring. No doubt a shopkeeper on Lambton Quay or a bank clerk in Queen Street would have voted life unexciting, but the man who carried a loaded rifle slung across his shoulders as he ploughed his little farm on the danger-line, and the women who nightly carried their babies in to the nearest blockhouse redoubt on the frontier, for fear of Maori raids in the midnight hours—none of those would have considered the times prosaic.
The development of New Zealand has been swift, but it was mighty tough going sometimes. Our pioneer railway route-finders had some hectic days in the outback. And if the
They had some curious ways, those old-timers whose memories we revere in N.Z. For example, the public exhibition they made of poor devils about to be hanged. The p.d.'s deserved all they got, no doubt, but the Authorities rubbed it in hard. A venerable lady up north, still living, told me of a spectacle she witnessed in Auckland in her childhood. She saw a manacled criminal taken through the town in a cart from the gaol in Queen Street to the jetty in Official Bay, where he was put on board a boat with an armed crew. He was sitting on his coffin in the cart, and when he was transhipped to the boat the coffin was put on board alongside him. He was a man condemned to die for the murder of a family at the North Shore. They took him to the scene of the murder—he had burned down the house to hide his crime—and they hanged him there. The great idea was, no doubt, to strike terror into the hearts of the evil-disposed, and make them think twice about picking and stealing and so on. But what a catch nowadays it would be for the “movies”!
* * *
Some Aucklanders, who love to stroll along the busy waterfront, have been regretting the absence of the water melon boats this season. For many years a small cutter-yacht from Whangaparaoa, out on the Hauraki Gulf coast, used to tie up at one of the wharves and retail over the side the cargo of melons and pumpkins and other garden products.
Railway Station Gardens In New Zealand.
The Lumsden Station garden, the cup winner in the Southland District, 1929.
In earlier times the Maori canoes and boats from Waiheke Island were the melon-carriers. The garden-stuff yacht's absence is accounted for by the fact that the crop was quite a failure this year—cause, unseasonable, and unreasonable weather.
Water melons, I fancy, were grown far more generally in past years than they are to-day. Everywhere in the North, on a farm or in a Maori village, you could be sure of being offered a delicious helping of it, or a whole melon, if you felt that way, and in the hot weather it certainly was most acceptable. But never have I been more grateful for a water melon (taste inherited from small-boy days on the old farm) than on a certain sea voyage long ago to the South Sea Islands. It was nasty knockabout weather for the first few days out from New Zealand, and I didn't feel at all friendly disposed towards pea-soup and corned beef. But as it happened, the steward had laid in a lot of water melons just before leaving port, and for a week I lived on them. They may not have been particularly nourishing, but they were just the thing for a precarious interior in a big jobbly sea.
Enchanting Otehei Bay
The Fisherman's Paradise
“I cannot say how happy I have been. Your wonderful fishing has far exceeded anything I expected.” These were the words of Mr. Aubrey Sara, a Sydney businessman, who, accompanied by his wife and family, recently spent a holiday in New Zealand, big game fishing at the deep sea anglers’ base, Otehei Bay, Bay of Islands.
Mr. Sara is a very enthusiastic fisherman, and is well-known along the New South Wales coast on account of the big fish he has secured in those parts. While at Otehei Bay he was successful in landing several large fish (including mako and swordfish), and the following narrative aptly expresses his enthusiasm for this alluring and exciting sport. He says:—
Caught Off Cape Brett, Bay Of Islands.
A fine specimen of a black marlin, swordfish (861lbs.)
“I was asked which fish I considered the better fighter — the mako or the sword-fish. Well, from the sporting aspect, comparison is difficult. They are both most interesting and wonderful fish. The mako (no less than the swordfish), gives the angler remarkable exhibitions of leaping on the water, and, throughout the whole process of capture, a variety of exciting thrills, compared with which no form of sport I know can offer. I had the wonderful good fortune to hook (and land) fine specimens of the mako and the swordfish, and the manner in which they seemed to walk along the surface of the water absolutely thrilled me.
“Upon my arrival at the wharf at Urupukapuka Island, I was amazed to see hanging on the derricks the huge fish that had been landed that day. I only wish my club friends in Sydney could see for themselves the type of fish caught in New Zealand. What a pity Otehei Bay is not alongside Sydney!”
Mr. Sara then went on to give a few impressions of shark fishing in Australia.
“Since my boyhood,” he continued, “my hobby has been fishing for sharks, which are such a menace to human life at some of the Australian beaches. There are the Tiger Shark, the Black Whaler, the Grey Pointer and the Grey Nurse. Although these species of fish are caught with rod and line, by no means do they provide the sport that your New Zealand big game fish do. In Australia, we use practically the same style of tackle as used in New Zealand, except that our trace is a steel one with a leaden sinker attached. The sinker, which weights about eight ounces, is
“Such sharks as I have mentioned frequent the bathing beaches, and it was found necessary to erect special alarm signals along the beach. Immediately the dorsal fin of a shark is observed, the alarm is given, and bathers hurriedly leave the water.
“In fifteen years, fishing with rod and reel, I have landed over one thousand sharks. The Amateur Fishing Association of New South Wales controls the fishing, and has a membership of over three hundred. The subscription to this society is £1 1s. per annum. For the last nine years I have been vice-president of the Association.
“I cannot understand why you people in New Zealand treat so lightly the matter of catching a big game fish. Why, if even some of the king-fish that I have seen caught here had been caught where I came from in Sydney, the newspapers there would have made quite a large feature of it.
Outward Bound For The Bay Of Islands.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
The Auckland-Opua train emerging from the Parnell tunnel, Auckland, North Island, New Zealand.
“I have taken some moving pictures of the fish in action off Cape Brett, and I intend giving the members of my club a treat when I arrive back in Australia.”
Mr. Sara was full of enthusiasm for New Zealand's scenery and the hospitality of its people. He says: “We received kindness and hospitality from everyone. The train journey from Auckland to Opua was delightful, and the scenery along the route charming. At Opua, the railway terminus, we were met by a launch, which conveyed us to Otehei Bay, one of the most enchanting in the beautiful Bay of Islands. This trip, although short, was full of enjoyment, and we were shown many places of historic interest. The Deep Sea Anglers’ headquarters at Urupukapuka Island is, in every sense of the word, a home away from home. One anticipates arriving at a camp, but imagine the surprise when one beholds the scenic loveliness of its setting and the neat little bungalows wherein the angler plans and sleeps and dreams! Words cannot do justice to this ‘fisherman's paradise.’ One must visit it to appreciate to the full its irresistible lure.”
Popular Annual Railways Picnic.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Interesting snapshots of the recent Hutt Valley Workshops and Railway Stores Department's picnics, at Maidstone Park, Upper Hutt, Wellington. (1) Workshops Picnic Committee; (2) finish of the Workshops married women's race; (3), (5), (7) children's races (Stores); (4) Workshops married men's race; (6) a glimpse of Maidstone Park showing the special picnic train (centre) waiting to convey the picnickers back to their homes; (8) Stores Department Picnic Committee.
Capable of 100 Miles an Hour
“The greatest speed I ever attained,” said Mr. David Gibson, a well-known L.M.S.R. enginedriver, “was 95 miles an hour. I was driving the latest type of Royal Scot engine coming down the gradient from the Shap Summit to Carlisle. The engine ‘Novelty,’ of the same type which I have been driving for the last two years is, I believe, if I let her all out, capable of 100 miles an hour.” Mr. Gibson made his non-stop record a few months ago, when he drove a train from Glenboig, north of Glasgow, to Euston, a distance slightly longer than the 402 miles non-stop run of the Royal Scot Express from London to Glasgow (Central) in April, 1928. Mr. Gibson retired at the end of November.—(From the Railway Gazette.)
The introduction and distribution of oil within the bearing, the formation of the film and the effectiveness of the film in reducing friction are all dependent upon the materials and physical form of the bearing as resulting from design, workmanship, adjustment and wear.
Unsuitable materials—too hard or too soft, too granular or too fibrous—are sometimes, though rarely, the cause of bearing troubles. The subject of material selection is well understood by machine builders to-day.
Insufficient bearing area, resulting from faulty design, is rare in modern machines. It results in an excessive unit pressure on the bearing surface and enhances the importance of correct formation of the surfaces to produce an effective oil wedge. It may also require the use of a heavier-bodied oil in spite of the greater fluid-frictional losses which result.
Marine Turbine thrust bearing with self-adjustment thrust shoes.
Ineffective or insufficient oil inlets prevent complete lubrication. In a long bearing, two or more inlets are usually necessary. If the inlet enters the bearing clearance on the pressure side, it will be closed by the journal; so that oil cannot enter except by applying it under high pressure. This trouble often occurs where the oil holes are on the top of the bearing and there is a strong upward belt pull on the shaft. The location of the oil inlets should be changed to a low pressure area.
Uneven bearing surfaces, due to poor workmanship, result in a reduction of the true bearing area; making it impossible to maintain a strong supporting oil film. Wear may correct this fault or make it worse. The exact formation of the bearing surfaces by good workmanship is important.
Insufficient clearance, either from making the bearing and journal too close a fit or from too tight an adjustment, prevents oil distribution and film formation. Excessive clearance—resulting from inaccurate workmanship, wear, or loose adjustment—reduces the effective pressure of the oil film, and promotes oil waste.
The lack of a wedge-shaped clearance, in which the film pressure can be built up in order to support the load, is the cause of many bearing troubles. This occurs in bearings with small clearance, and is relieved by bevelling the sharp edges of the bearing parts and “easing away” the surfaces of the bearing adjacent to the bevel. This may be done by scraping or machining. Where grooves are employed the edges should always be rounded or eased away.
Incorrect grooving may permit the oil to escape from the end of the bearing or may destroy the film pressure at the point where pressure is required. Unnecessary grooves are harmful. Wear of chamfers and grooves may in time destroy their effectiveness or create sharp edges that cut away the film. Poor oil distribution often occurs in ring, chain, or collar oiled bearings, due to the lack of suitable channels to spread the oil over the full bearing surface.
Without the physical correctness of the bearing, perfection of lubrication is impossible. Especially in the cases where heavy loads must be sustained, much improvement of lubrication can be accomplished by paying attention to the correctness of oil inlets, bearing clearance and bevelled edges; and, where necessary, to the grooving and “easing away” of the surfaces to accomplish oil distribution and oil-wedge formation.
(2) Bearing pressures will be regarded as excessive whenever they are greater than intended in the design of the bearing, or greater than permissible in good practice. Overload on a machine is, therefore, an evident cause of excessive bearing pressures.
Incorrect alignment is a common cause of excessive bearing pressures. This may occur through the incorrect position of the bearing either horizontally or vertically; or the bearing may be twisted on its foundation. Correct alignment of bearings is the first essential of satisfactory installation and should not be neglected.
Heavy belt pull or unnecessarily tight driving chains result in excessive pressures and should be corrected in order to avoid trouble. Worn gears often result in heavy radial forces and vibratory loads on the bearing.
Ensuring Safety Of Railway Structures.
(Photo, C. P. Manhart)
A heavy girder being swung into position during repairs to No. 10 bridge, on the Main North Line, near Kaiapoi, North Canterbury.
Excessive end thrust on a shaft, caused by expansion or contraction of a long lineshaft with changing temperature sometimes brings a heavy pressure on a thrust collar not intended for a heavy load, thus causing friction and heating.
Excessive pressures, such as have been described, often cause failure of the oil film, resulting in metallic contact, rapid wear and excessive frictional heat which may destroy the bearing. They should be overcome by mechanical correction wherever possible. When heavy pressures are unavoidable, the resultant troubles may be relieved by the use of a heavy-bodied oil. Heavy-bodied compounded oils, due to their superior adhesive qualities, are useful for extreme bearing pressures, provided the method of lubrication does not involve repeated use of the oil.
(3) A bearing may become heated as a result of the temperature of the surrounding atmosphere or objects, or it may become hot because the frictional heat generated in the bearing has no adequate means of dissipation. On the other hand cold weather conditions or refrigeration may greatly reduce the temperature of the bearing. When these high or low temperatures are considered in selecting the oil, bearing troubles from these causes can be avoided. Unforeseen changes in these conditions, however, may cause trouble.
Hot surroundings tend to raise the temperature of a bearing to a fixed limit. The reduction of oil body by increased temperature is allowed for by the use of heavy-bodied oil.
Insufficient heat radiation from the bearing, due to a confined or non-ventilated location, may cause the accumulation of heat to such an extent that the high temperature of the bearing reduces the body of the oil to a dangerous degree. Proper ventilation should be provided for bearings, especially those of high-speed machines. When the circulation system is employed for lubrication, a large quantity of oil circulated through the bearing prevents heat accumulation where, with another system of lubrication, heat radiation might be insufficient to keep the bearing temperature moderate. In some cases bearing-housings or brasses are cored out and connected to a water-circulation system for cooling.
Cold surroundings sometimes reduce the temperature of the bearing below that at which the oil in use will flow, causing difficulty in starting a cold machine. Frictional heat generally raises the temperature to a point where the
Where the bearings are expected to operate under very low temperature conditions, it is advantageous to design them in such a way that a supply of lubricant is held adjacent to the journal by waste packing. The first frictional heat generated on starting will then act upon the supply of oil in the packing adjacent to the journal. The transmission of heat throughout the bearing then gradually liquefies the entire mass of oil, so that the supply is maintained.
In some machines hot water or steam is circulated through water jackets while starting, being shut off later when frictional heat becomes sufficient to maintain the desired temperature. Depending on the type of machine and the method of oil application, it is often necessary to use an oil having a sufficiently low cold test to avoid congealing, even under the lowest temperature at which it has to operate.
(4) Carelessness in handling lubricants and their application by methods which permit contamination, are responsible for many bearing troubles. From the moment that the lubricants are received in barrels or tank cars they should be guarded against dirt, grit, water, and any possibility of mixing with other oils. Storage tanks into which barrels are emptied by the user should be covered thoroughly and marked plainly with the name and purpose of the oil. In distributing the oil throughout the plant, open containers should be avoided, and care should be taken that each container is used for only one kind of oil, to prevent mixing.
A Privately-Owned Railway In New Zealand.
The new petrol engine and trailer, built at Invercargill for the Ohai Railway Board's private line between Wairio and Reeds, Southland. (The Ohai Railway Board operates traffic in the most important section of the southern brown coalfields.)
Hand application of oil or grease is responsible for many impurities entering the bearing. The danger from this source is reduced somewhat by the use of closed oil cans and self-closing oil-hole covers on the bearings. The various types of automatic lubricating appliances are adapted more or less to the exclusion of foreign matter from the bearing. Bottle oilers and wick feed oilers are particularly desirable from this standpoint.
Circulation and splash lubrication systems are sensitive to the presence of foreign matter, since extreme purity of the lubricant is necessary in order that it may be able to maintain long-continued service. A frequent source of trouble is the accumulation of water in the circulation system which may be caused by leakage from water cooling systems or even condensation of water vapour from the atmosphere.
(To be concluded.)
Empire Farmers’ Party Tour The South Island.
(Rly. Publicity photos)
(1) and (3) Empire Farmers’ Party leaving Pelorus Sounds (Marlborough) by launch; (2) fishing in the Sounds—catching a blue cod; (4) and (5) luncheon at Mr. R. D. Fell's home. Pelorus Sounds; (6) inspecting Merino rams at Amberley (Canterbury); (7) a scene in Nikau Bay, Pelorus Sounds; (8) and (9) arrival and welcome at Amberley Domain; (10) at Amberley Railway Station; (11) Mr. E. C. Bacon (England), replying to the address of welcome at Amberley; (12) Mr. A. V. Allen (left), manager of the South African Party; (13) and (14) members of the party partaking of afternoon tea, at Amberley.
The Way We Go
Ins And Outs Of Life
Told By Leo Fanning
Ins And Outs Of Life
Told By Leo Fanning
What would not some irrepressible, persistent writers of unsolicited letters to newspapers like to say to editors who fail to appreciate the importance of their stuff? The editor who sees not eye to eye with all enthusiastic guides, philosophers, and friends of the public, is hard to elude. He has an extinguisher in one hand and an acid bottle in the other—and his is the final touch, one way or another. Trying to win a fight with an editor is like trying to dominate a sausage-machine by going into it head first.
* * *
If Cabinet Ministers could only speak their minds to some of the vexatious deputations! How often would a Minister like to be free to speak like this? “Well, gentlemen, I will not pretend that I have been pleased to hear what you call your representations, which seem to me to be the most utter rot. You have taken more than an hour to dodder tediously all round the subject—more than an hour to say unclearly what a child could have said clearly in two minutes. You have representatives in Parliament, but you believe, apparently, that their principal job should be merely to introduce deputations. You have taken the long way, which is also the wrong way, but I am going to take a short way with you. Your request is preposterous; worse—it is blatantly absurd. It will not receive careful consideration; it will get no kind of consideration. Good-bye, gentlemen. I do not thank you for calling.”
* * *
Electors are at liberty—particularly at public meetings—to say what they like to candidates, but the wooers have to be wary. Many a candidate, suave and bland on the surface, but rankling and seething underneath, would like to talk to his audience thus: “I see before me a sort of zoo—a good few rabbits (some wild, others tame), numerous goats, plenty of sheep, and some asses. Much against my better judgment, common-sense, and self-respect. I have to play the part of an ass myself to please you. I have to pretend that I'll be able to put quarts into pint-pots, square the circle, circle the square, raise magic money-plants, and often make nothing look like something pretty good. Your unwillingness or inability to learn or understand simple principles of political economy compels me to humbug you with a hotchpotch of something for nothing.”
* * *
I know a few clergymen who would like to open fire in the pulpit some Sunday, thus:— “My dear brethren, I do love you, although it is hard, but sometimes I would like to call you my undear blockheads. If I felt that you would take seriously one of the old-time sermons sermons on eternal hell-fire, believe me I would well and truly roast you to-day—and I would like to give some of you a taste of it in advance. For example, the donors of threepenny bits (except those which would be widows’ mites) would be compelled to swallow them red-hot.”
* * *
The doctor who feels that it may be advisable to humour a faddy, wealthy patient, must find it very difficult sometimes to cork up his real opinions. If he released the imprisoned words they might be like these: “You are too fat; you are too lazy; you eat too much; you drink too much, and don't think half enough. You don't need pills so much as pulls—pulls of the hair, pulls of the ears, pulls of the nose. I have to pull your leg—but I would much prefer to pull you out of bed and out of doors, give you a few kicks, and a few punches, and compel you to scratch for a living on the ash-heaps of life for a few weeks. You would be better in body and mind after a large dose of the simple life.”
Think of the remarks which the punter would like to make to the dear friend who put his “fancy” to flight—the only time he had sorted out a winner for months—“and it paid seventeen quid, too.” He had been sticking to that horse, and “lost pots” on him, but knew the owner, trainer, and jockey would be going for the goods that day. “A flutter with a fiver for me,” runs part of the long story which he tells to any listener, for weeks after the disappointment. “I knew I was going to get some of my own back, but I ran into that ‘mug’ just as I was heading for the ‘tote,’ and he put me off my fancy and on to a ‘stoomer!”
* * *
What would some of the victims of civic receptions, or guests of honour at banquets, like to say? Here is a reading of their thoughts: “Dear friends, your intentions have been very good, very heart-warming, but your execution has been terrible. My bones feel as if they had been riddled with borer. It seems more than a month since your speeches began. I know you have done your best to welcome me, but you make me feel that you have done your worst. There is only one kind of speech that I like on these occasions—and that is the short one. It can't be too short.”
* * *
Long before man learned how to write—perhaps long before he learned to speak—his mind and soul had yearnings for better lands, where the fruit and the fish would be bigger and better, and life would be wholly sweetful instead of sweatful. Have we not all had our dreams of the fairy fields of Avalon, meads of Asphodel, the Land of Cockaigne, Prester John's Realm of Romance, and the Country of Beulah?
For The Transport Of Perishable Goods On The N.Z.R.
(Photo, courtesy of the “Press,” Christchurch)
Portion of an order of fifty butter and cheese wagons nearing completion at the Department's Workshops at Addington, South Island.
* * *
Alas; There is ever the ridiculous lurking at the skirt of the sublime. Our Better Lands are mostly lazy lands, where something for everybody grows on the tree of nothing. The Better Land in the day-dreams of some of us would prove to be like the Town of No Good, in these verses:—
Wit And Humour
The train came through the rain into the station. Doors closed, passengers alighted; there was all the bustle of entraining and detraining. An anxious face appeared at one of the windows, and a voice called: “Porter!” “Sir?” “What station is this?” “What station do you want, sir?” “What stations have you got?” The train moved on; the perplexed official standing upon the platform gazed with open mouth upon the receding face of the traveller, which glowed benevolently upon him, like a red and setting sun.
* * *
The Express was about to start when an old lady ran on to the platform in breathless haste. The guard pounced upon her in a trice, fairly lifted her into a carriage, and as he slammed the door the train moved out of the station.
The first stopping-place was sixty miles down the line, and when the train arrived the guard saw the old lady getting out of her carriage in a state of indignation.
“You almost missed it, ma'am,” he said.
“Missed it!” burst out the old lady. “I only wanted to post a letter in the late-fee box in the train, and now you've brought me here.”
* * *
Judge (sternly): “Well, what's your excuse for speeding sixty miles an hour?”
Victim: “I had just heard, Your Honour, that the ladies of my wife's church were holding a rummage sale and I was hurrying home to save my other pair of trousers.”
Judge: “Case dismissed.”
* * *
“You, boy over in the corner!” Thus the brutal examiner to the nervous-looking pupil in the class. The boy over in the corner shot up like a bolt. “Answer this,” continued the examiner. “Do we eat the flesh of the whale?”
“Y-y-yes, sir,” faltered the scholar.
“And what do you do with the bones?”
“P-p-please, sir,” responded the nervous one, with chattering teeth, “we 1-leave them on the s-side of our p-plates.”
A Financial Recovery.
“I thought you were too ill to get out of bed?“
“And so I am—but six shillings in the pound, Ike!—
how could I stay in bed?”
“How do you guard against microbes?”
“First I boil all my water.”
“Yes, and then?”
“I filter it.”
“Yes, and then?”
“I always drink beer.”
* * *
Driver of old car (after roadside halt): “You don't notice that knock in the engine so much now, do you?”
Friend: “No. How did you fix it?”
Driver: “Oh, I just loosened one of the mudguards.”
Conducted bySheila G. Marshall
The Story Of Anne
The girl leant back against a friendly boat and gazed out across the sea, already vivid with the flame of an autumn sunset. The little bay was almost deserted—a few fishermen mending their nets for the morning; a group of brown children splashing in the shallow pools, a small excited terrier racing along the sands.
Anne was suddenly conscious that she was tired—too tired to gather up her paints and easel and go back to the diminutive hotel for tea. All day she had been sitting there, until she had become part of the landscape to the curious village folk—and until she had transferred the vivid beach to her canvas. She was literally daubed with splashes of crimson and blue, and for the first time for years she felt a thrill of happiness in her blood—the happiness of a day under the blue skies, busy and alone. Her little flat in the city seemed to belong to another world; her hosts of artistic friends and enemies to have vanished into a past life.
The first day of her liberty had been, for Anne, a fantastic day dream. In fact she had painted in a kind of trance, intoxicated by the sleepy murmur of the waves, the caressing warmth of the sand, and her sense of secure isolation. Gradually night wrapped the quaint little fishing village in her kindly mantle of blackness, and chiselled cold stars appeared. A breeze stirred the untidy wisps of Anne's dark hair, reminding her that she was stiff with cold, frightfully hungry, and in reality quite a normal human being, desirous of food and warmth, not some dream wraith from the realms of fancy, as occasionally she imagined herself to be.
“Sausages!” murmured Anne ecstatically. “Tomatoes and coffee. Ye gods! I'm half starved.” Rising abruptly, she stretched her stiff arms, gathered up her painting material, and with a backward glance towards the inky expanse of waters, she walked rapidly along the twisting little street, past the huddled, squalid cottages of the fisherfolk, where gramophones and ukeleles cried out a welcome to the wanderer, and on to the “Mermaid's Charm”—a decrepit hotel ‘on the point—where she was the only and much honoured guest.
Anne Wentworth had taken her life very seriously, believing that in painting she could satisfy her craving for the beautiful, her desire to create, express her strange and rather remote personality. She had been a dreamy little girl, always slipping away from her noisy friends to read tremendous books which she only half understood. To her jolly brothers, Anne was an enigma. “She's a queer kid,” they would say good humouredly, “and a little devil, too!” At school she had never distinguished herself—a hopeless duffer at mathematics, extremely shy, and no good at games—therefore, necessarily not popular. However, she had been termed “interesting” even then—a tall slim girl with a squirrel-coloured plait, scowling black brows, a rather sulky mouth, and marvellous wide, grey eyes. At eighteen she had solemnly dedicated herself to Art, and had persuaded her indulgent father to send her to Paris to study. Three years in the Latin Quarter, and Anne
Anne, curiously enough, had fallen in love with Terence O'Neil, with his shock of red hair and his friendly grin. He had protected and teased her, criticised her work, and stolen, in his care-free Celtic way, her remote and childish heart.
That night she sat in the “parlour” of the little seaside hotel, and ate a hearty meal, thinking of Terence—although it was two years since he had worked and laughed with her. Drawing a massive armchair to the fire, she lit a cigarette, puffed thoughtfully, and wondered why she couldn't forget him. Why, she would have loved to see his tall, ungainly form leaning against the mantelpiece, and hear his husky voice talking didactically on everything—from metaphysics to toffee-making. When he had left Paris she had been acutely unhappy, and had stifled her misery in work, being something of a philosopher. Success had followed. Her name was famous from one end of England to the other. Her pictures were talked of everywhere; her photograph, attired in a smock, had appeared in several magazines. “Anne Went-worth, one of England's most celebrated women artists, in her studio. Miss W. is original (how she hated that word), and is believed to be a man-hater!”
Indeed, she was now twenty-eight, six years had slipped away since she had drunk that last cup of coffee in a quaint Bohemian restaurant, Rue Montmartre, with Terence O'Neil—six years which had engraved a permanent line between her brows, and given a perpetual droop to her beautiful lips. The newspaper reports were justified. Anne scorned all attempts made by artistic eligible young men who aspired to her friendship; she buried herself resolutely in her studies, and hoped thus to find Happiness.
At present she was bored and tired of it all, and had rushed off, without any forethought, to this little fishing village—miles from reporters and photographers, society and fame.
The ancient timepiece in the hall wheezed out nine. “What on earth shall I do?” said Anne to the tabby cat who shared the warmth of the fire with her. “Good heavens, I am becoming a really orthodox old maid, cat and all!” Outside, the waves lapped the beach almost viciously, and gulls cried sadly to one another. Inside, the girl looking into the restless flames, trying to see visions of the Future.
“I think I'll go for a walk, old thing,” she remarked to the cat. “Coming?” But tabby stretched luxuriously, and seemed to say, “Human beings are devoid of common sense.”
Anne mounted the narrow stairs to her half-attic bedroom, put on a warm leather coat, took a walking-stick, and creeping down the stairs almost guiltily, in fear of meeting an inquisitive landlady, she strode out into the darkness.
Had she been a “faery child” she would have noticed that the Blue Bird of Happiness was even then winging its way above her, but being only a dreamy and disappointed mortal, she went to absorb a little comfort from the eternity of ocean before her.
Down on the rocks a group of men were fishing, she recognised them as holiday-makers who had arrived that night, and who were taking advantage of the still darkness to test the waters. The sound of low voices, and an occasional laugh, attracted Anne's attention. She suddenly felt very lonely and much in need of human society. Somewhere she had read that man is a gregarious animal possessing a “herd instinct,” and to-night, in her voluntary isolation, she felt its truth. Leaning on a rock in the shadows, she was near enough to hear the sound of their voices, and the splash of their lines.
Suddenly, across the darkness, floated a plaintiff whistle from one of the fishers.
“Shut up, you ass,” came a deep voice in the gloom. “Little fishes don't appreciate your vocal efforts any more than we do!”
Anne's heart stood still. Closing her eyes, she saw again her little studio in the Rue des Anges, smelt the fragrance of coffee and toast, heard a step on the stairs, and the sound of a whistle mounting upwards.
“Hurry, Terence, supper is ready, and I'm starving!” She heard again her gay young voice, six years ago, saw the little kerosene stove, and Terence's red hair and jolly grin. Standing there in the darkness, with the waves swirling at her feet, she felt a stab of pain at her heart. She had pretended valiantly, even
“Confound that beastly song!” said Anne, hurriedly rising, conscious of acute misery. “Why can't people be quiet at this hour of the night?”
She was modern and femininely unreasonable and illogical. With a scowl towards the quite oblivious fishers, she turned towards the hotel, and the landlady was surprised to see her lady guest rushing past her in the narrow passage without so much as a “good evening,” and a face “as black as thunder.”
“It's these artistic ones, ye know,” she remarked to an interested neighbour. “Never know where ye are with 'em, that's wot I says; give me a homely girl like our Emma.” This young female, making a new frock in the kitchen, was decidedly the happier of the two. We are inclined to agree with Mrs. Jones that the artistic temperament has its disadvantages. Anne dreamt that night of red-haired criminals who were hanged because they persisted in wearing green suits.
Next morning she came down to breakfast early—easel and brushes in a bag on her back—attired for another day on the beach. Sitting down, she opened the paper, and began, in an abstracted way, to munch toast and marmalade. Suddenly the door opened, and the three young men of the evening before came in, bringing an atmosphere of sunshine and sea breezes, jolly voices, and high spirits. Anne did not even glance up; they annoyed her, and she did not want to show the slightest interest in them. However, breakfast at the same table in a small hotel demands a certain amount of civility, and she was forced to desist from the contemplation of the news to pass the butter. Across the table—again that horrible throb of her heart—she was suddenly aware of a shock of red hair appearing over the top of a newspaper. Its owner was evidently interested in the affairs of the world, as she had been, and as determined to ignore her existence.
“Would you mind passing the butter?” asked Anne sweetly, in her curiously attractive voice. The paper was lowered slowly, reluctantly, and she looked straight into the eyes of Terence O'Neil. His face, once boyish and radiant, was now lined and thoughtful; the face of a man who had suffered, who had expected too much from the world and had been disillusioned.
“Anne—little Anne!” Sublimely unconscious of his companions, he seized both her hands in his impulsive Irish way. “Where have you been all these years? And what on earth are you doing in this little hole?” Anne was speechless.
Later on in the morning, two figures could be seen clearly defined against the vivid blue, deep in a discussion over a combination of sky and sand and water, and a whistle, gay and clear, floated across the bay:
A Scenic Gem In The South Island.
A party on the world-famed Franz Josef Glacier, South Westland, New Zealand.
Manners Maketh Woman
This is an ancient adage, applied as a general rule to the sterner sex. “Manners maketh man,” and all of us agree very readily on this point. We all appreciate a touch of Old World courtesy in our male friends, a faint reminder of the brave days of the Cavaliers and Bonnie Prince Charlie; of curls, laces and sweeping bows; of coaches, and duels, and love letters. Those days of romance are dead, indeed; they have vanished with the advent of the motor car and the radio; with the rush of business, the making of money, and the new rights demanded by women. Yet how often do we bemoan the fact that the modern man is totally lacking in manners; and he (logical being) replies that we demand equal rights with him in every field, therefore we must be treated as the
We expect to rush headlong into the world of business, sport, politics, etc., receive the same treatment as our husbands and brothers, and yet we desire still, perhaps secretly, to receive a little homage—a little chivalry. We claim this is our birthright, because we still claim to be the “fair sex,” and believe, even in these days, that men regard us as superiors and not as equals. “The light that lies in woman's eyes” can stil inspire and charm—although we receive a salary equal to a man's, and can sometimes beat him at tennis and golf.
Candidly, I don't think we are being quite fair, do you? We have cast our own manners to the winds as being quite “out of fashion” — in keeping with languishing glances over fans, sylph-like waists, hysterics, and sentimental novels—not at all suitable for trains and trams, typewriters and tennis matches. The other day I was waiting on a railway station, when I heard a very beautiful twentieth century girl casually address her masculine neighbour: “Haven't a match, have you?” He dived for the required “light,” forgetting to raise his hat. She coolly lit a cigarette, and literally “chucked” the box back to its owner, with a laconic, “Thanks.”
We can't expect men to have manners if we won't show the faintest indication of possessing them ourselves. We have always led the way in the finer and more subtle points of human fellowship, and man has followed. We “set the pace,” so to speak, and he looks to us for his lead. Because we are “good sports,” capable and independent, there is no need for us to be abrupt, terribly slangy, and totally devoid of charm. In our hearts we just love to be “looked after,” to have the door held open for us, etc., and I am positive that men, as a rule, like to perform these small services. We cannot expect them to be cavaliers if we don't give them a little encouragement. It is for us to refute the statement that the “days of chivalry are dead and gone.”
A Dainty Evening Frock
Dame Fashion has decreed that this winter our evening frocks are to sweep the ground, and we must admit that the effect is much more graceful for dancing.
The smart little frock illustrated on this page you can make yourself quite easily; merely a simple bodice of black taffeta, a broad, close-fitting band at the hips, and a full crisp skirt just below the knee. Now for the touch which fashion demands, a net or tulle overskirt right to the ground, slightly shorter in front. This gives the effect necessary without the unfamiliar discomfort of a long skirt. Finish your frock with a bright flower on the shoulder. Nothing could be easier to make, nor more really smart to wear.
The Ever Desperate Runner, ‘Iron Horse’”
A Chinese Railway Student'S Essay.
The following amusing essay, written by a student of the Railway Traffic School in China, was reproduced in the course of an interesting article, “Traffic Management on the Chinese Railways,” featured in a recent issue of Modern Transport. It was the custom for students to be taken on the line for practical demonstrations, each student being required to write a short description of what he had seen and learnt. This student, an aspiring guard on the railway, after a short period of guard's work left the service to join one of the foreign consulates. Here is his essay:—
“Traffic School.”
“To the Traffic Manager.
“By taking advantage of your choice, we were enriched in experience to have an ever-dreamed chance to visit … I am submitting you the report as much as we have been enjoying.
“Since Bacon, the English Great Philosopher, in the Essay of ‘Travel,’ said ‘Travel in the younger sort is a part of education; in the older a part of experience,’ we were, by the quotation used, to take trip to the various stations, as we are all the coming staff. In order to increase our experience, we have to visit all the stations for future reference.
“So on the fresh morning, i.e., Sept. 15th, while the azure sky had been born out from the womb of darkness of yesterday—thunder, rain, on the 3rd. platform came to and fro the passengers including the coming staff who were accompanied by two instructors. They had assembled in school. Time being at hand! The ever-desperate runner, Iron Horse, in a great noise of Hurrah, by taking mechanical advantage, drove the following coaches in a series like a string of thread forwarding to his aimed Station violently. Along the track while the train was running we got the rural scenes from both windows outside that delighted our eyes a good deal. All of a sudden the signal semaphore caught into our eyes, and the train was stopping as quick as possible. Around Station we by teachers’ direction were led to visit the service offices, namely: Station Master's office, Telegraph office, Booking office, Baggage office, official Reception room, and Goods depots.
“After we partook of the tiffin at the nearest restaurant that well could give us a good appetite. Those up to Station Master down to coolies respected to their passengers and worked ever so industriously, faithfully and regularly. I dare say that if all stations along the line can be equ.1 to the level of … the railway henceforth will be reformed in certainly.
“While the sun was going to sink the train No. 16 Down came on with crowds of passengers, and we therefore took it back. The train arrived at 18.50 and we returned home sleeping soundly. In the midnight the Station Master and Guard were waving their flags still in my brain. Happy indeed!
“I am, Sir,
“Yours obediently,”
(Sgd) _____
For the first time in railway operation in New Zealand, lounge cars have been introduced as a feature in ordinary service. The first trains to have these cars attached are the Daylight Limited expresses running daily from Wellington to Auckland and vice versa. The public have already shown a marked liking for these cars, the charge for the throughout run being only 7s. 6d. in addition to the ordinary first class fare, with a lesser charge for shorter distances.