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 period, and that during the months of January and February, 1930, the monthly circulation has increased to 24,000 copies
controller and auditor-general
“Oh! I shall not forget, until memory depart,
When first I beheld it, the glow of my heart;
The wonder, the awe, the delight that stole o'er me
When its boundless loveliness opened before me.”
The beautiful road approach to the world-famed Franz Josef Glacier, South Westland, New Zealand.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
“
.”
For Better ServicePublished by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
Service Copy
Vol. 5. No. 1.
Wellington, New Zealand
Terminal Transport
The whole question of goods transport is so closely associated with competitive conditions arising out of motor truck development that concentrated attention is now being devoted by railway executives the world over to containers for terminal traffic. In these they see a possible solution of the difficulties met with in their endeavour to give a door-to-door transport service for merchandise.
In a recent number of “Modern Transport” it is pointed out that door-to-door transit of goods by railway-owned containers has passed the experimental stage in Great Britain, and a gratifying measure of success has been achieved. The traders have expressed satisfaction with the scheme, which gives many of the advantages of a private siding, minimises the risk of damage and pilferage, saves handling, and effects considerable economy in packing, in the cost of packing materials, and in the carriage thereof. On their part, the railway companies have seen a return for their outlay in a steady but appreciable return to rail of traffic which ordinary conveyance had failed to retain. As a general rule, the railway companies add a small percentage charge the addition is small, being often as low as five per cent., but, as the addition is small, being often as low as five per cent., and usually representing less than the saving effected on packing costs, the supplement is considered a reasonable business arrangement. Container-conveyed goods are charged at net weight only, nothing being added for the weight of the receptacle.
At the Fifth World Motor Transport Congress held at Rome in 1928, Signor Silvio Crespi initiated a movement which has now resulted in a competition, organised by a representative group of transport bodies, to determine the best system of container for international traffic.
In stating the conditions of this competition the joint committee announces that it is desired to find the most practical solution of the problem of combined goods transport, by rail, sea and road, in order to reduce as far as possible the cost of packing, storing and sorting, and to convey the goods from the point of production to the point of consumption by the most rapid and economical means.
Although numbers of containers have been tried out, designers have still to produce a container suitable for universal adoption. The greatest interest will, therefore, centre round this competition which may be expected to spur inventors and manufacturers to fresh efforts in order to win both the valuable prizes offered for designs and
In New Zealand, as in other countries, door-to-door collection and delivery of goods traffic, if it could be done by the use of adaptable and easily handled containers, would greatly reduce packing and transhipment costs for rail-borne goods and would be particularly useful for through booked inter-Island traffic. It is to be hoped, therefore, that the competition above referred to may produce a container of outstanding merit such as any railway might adopt with confidence.
Distinguished Visitors
Praise New Zealand Railways and Staff.
That the lounge car on the “Daylight Limited” “is equal to any he has ever travelled in,” is the opinion of Lord Latymer, who, with Lady Latymer, recently concluded a tour of the Dominion. This fine tribute to the high standard of accommodation now provided for travellers on the New Zealand Railways, is contained in a letter received by the General Manager, Mr. H. H. Sterling, from Mr. H. Desborough, Wellington Manager of Messrs. Thos. Cook and Sons. Mr. Desborough also states, “On his return to Wellington, Lord Latymer personally informed me that, during their journeys in New Zealand, he and Lady Latymer appreciated very much the special attention extended to them by all railway officials.”
Good Service Appreciated
The following letter to the General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, bears witness to the good work achieved by the Railway Department in its efforts to please its patrons:—
Dear Mr. Sterling,
One of the most satisfactory points in connection with the visit of Mr. and Mrs. and the Misses Cadbury to this country, was the manner in which the Railway Department rose to the occasion and did everything possible to facilitate the comfort, in particular, on the run made through the Dominion. We feel that in no small measure was this due to the interest you took in our visitors, who keenly appreciated everything done for them, and left the country full of its praises. From that angle alone the Publicity Department will be assisted more than can be gauged at present. In particular, the kindly manner in which you took them under your wing during the journey from Christchurch to Dunedin was more than once referred to by Mr. and Mrs. Cadbury, and we feel sure you would like to know that your kindness had the desired effect.
For Cadburys & Frys (N.Z.) Ltd.
(sgd.) Geo. Sara.
Bound Copies of the Magazine
The publication of the April issue of the Magazine completed the fourth volume. Readers are reminded that they may send forward their accumulated copies (May 1929 to April 1930 inclusive) for binding purposes. As hitherto, the volume will be bound in cloth with gilt lettering, at a cost of 5/6 per volume. Those desirous of having their copies bound may hand them to the nearest stationmaster, who will transmit them free, with the sender's name endorsed on the parcel, to the Editor, N.Z. Railways Magazine, Wellington. When bound, the volumes will be returned to the forwarding stationmaster, who will collect the binding charge. In order to ensure expedition in the process of binding, copies should reach the Editor not later than 29th June, 1930.
Railway Problems Discussed by General Manager
At the invitation of the Dannevirke Chamber of Commerce, in co-operation with the Southern Hawke's Bay Provincial Executive of the Farmers' Union, Mr. H. H. Sterling, General Manager of the New Zealand Railways, delivered an interesting address on the subject of “The Railways, Their Users and Their Owners,” in the Concert Chamber of the Town Hall before a large and representative attendance of citizens and settlers from the surrounding districts. Mr. Sterling comprehensively reviewed the position, particularly from the aspects of developmental and community service.
He made a direct appeal to the people to support their railways and to co-operate with the Department in popularising them.
The address has been published in leaflet form by the N.Z. Farmers' Union, Southern Hawke's Bay Provincial Executive, thus giving those who were not present an opportunity of reading it and reflecting upon the wide range of services rendered by the railways and the vital part they play in the progress, development and prosperity of the community.
The “Experiment”
The “Experiment” designed by John B. Jervis and built by the West Point Foundry, was the first locomotive to employ a “bogie” or leading truck, and also, among the first locomotives employing six wheels. It was put in service on the Mohawk and Hudson road in 1832. The “Experiment” proved itself anything but what its name implies, frequently making sixty miles an hour and, on occasions, attaining, a speed of eighty miles. It was the fastest locomotive in the world during its day. The “Experiment” had cylinders measuring 9 1/2x16 inches and two driving wheels five feet in diameter. The furnace was five feet long and thirty-four inches wide.
published by The Central Steel Company,
Massillon, Ohio, U.S.A).
General Manager's Message
Our Express Train Services.
A general improvement in long distance passenger traffic has resulted from the increased facilities afforded in the last year or two for more frequent through transport between the principal centres.
When we provide new trains it is not, of course, expected that they will jump at once into popular favour. Before a full response can be looked for, time is required to let the facts soak in regarding any additions to existing services, and it always takes time for tour schedules, trade movements and business connections, to become adjusted to extended avenues of transport.
It has been so with the latest addition to our new services, the night expresses between Wellington and New Plymouth. Although the traffic at first was small, the business is gradually improving and these trains will, I trust, grow into a fully patronised service. Upon this point, and in regard to other important train connections as well, I believe that much more could be done by business people and travellers generally, to make the railways a better paying investment, if they would rearrange their travel schedules in this and other areas in line with the train connections now available. For, even if the national aspect be left out of account, I feel sure that much of the present long-distance travel by road is taken without due consideration of the greater safety and generally superior convenience in travel which the railways offer.
The railways have a host of friends and I should like these to use their influence amongst their associates to bring more of this kind of traffic to the rail. I trust that no travellers won in this way will be disappointed, but if any should be, I would like to know about it so that the necessary action may be taken and remedies applied. Generally speaking, we find that compliments are now much more frequently received than criticisms, but while the former are cheering the latter are often more helpful in shewing the way to improvement.
The “Daylight Limited.“—The experiment made this year in running the “Daylight Limited” expresses for a longer period in order that general passenger traffic by these trains—as distinct from holiday excursion traffic—might have an opportunity to become established, is having the desired effect. These services now have a steady business in passengers, much of it, I believe, being new or “induced” traffic.
The results are so favourable that we feel fully warranted in deciding to continue the running of the “Daylight.” The effect of this decision will be to augment our services on the Wellington-Auckland run to three standard express trains daily, in each direction. It will also enable us to keep each train to such a size as may be comfortably handled. Since the “Daylight Limited” expresses commenced running in September last we have found that our through services between the two principal cities of the North Island have made better running and that a greater total of passenger traffic has been carried by them.
The 'Rotorua Limited.“- Although our newly-built and faster-scheduled “Rotorua Limited” expresses between Auckland and Rotorua have been established only a few days, from the many expression of approval of our action in providing these services, I feel confident that I will shortly be able to record a definite improvement in passenger traffic on this run. These trains provide a luxury ride at low cost. They are limited as to size and the number of stops made in order to give a fast, punctual service. They have been constructed with the greatest attention to the comfort and convenience of travellers and have been scheduled to meet the needs of the greatest number. Their average time is less than six hours for the through journey. There is not one aspect in which any competitive from of transport can compare with these trains for travel on the Auckland-Rotorua run. The favourable reception their introduction has received at the hands of both public and press gives assurance to the Department that its efforts to please clients are in line with their desires.
The “Rotorua Limited”
Fast “Limited” Service Instituted Between Auckland and Rotorua.
Two entirely new trains of cars and vans which incorporate the most modern luxury features, were completed at the Otahuhu Railway Workshops last month for the Auckland-Rotorua services, and put into commission on 5th May. It is anticipated that the introduction of these trains (which are timed to do the 171 mile run in about six hours) will do much to popularise rail travel between Auckland and New Zealand's thermal wonderland.
In reference to the new Auckland-Rotorua services, the Hon. W. B. Taverner, Minister of Railways, made an important statement indicating that special efforts have been made to popularise the train service between Auckland and Rotorua, by providing an exceptionally attractive through train service, running on a fast schedule and equipped with the most modern arrangements, including lounge cars with observation ends.
“This matter has been thoroughly investigated by the General Manager of Railways and his executive officers,” said Mr. Taverner, “and I had no hesitation in concluding from the information available that a ‘Limited’ express service was essential on the Auckland-Rotorua run.
“In order to provide this it has been found necessary to eliminate certain of the stops now made by the Rotorua expresses. By doing so we are able to introduce a ‘Limited’ train in both directions which will leave each terminal at 10.10 a.m., arriving at Auckland at 4 p.m., and at Rotorua at 4.15 p.m.—approximately six hours on the run in either direction.
“As the passenger business by the Rotorua express trains is essentially a long distance traffic, catering largely for tourists travelling between Auckland and Rotorua—the latter admittedly the principal tourist centre of the Dominion—it has been decided to stop the train on the outward journey only at Newmarket (which is practically a city stop), Pukekohe, Frankton Junction, Hamilton, Morrinsville, Matamata and Putaruru. The stops that are being cut out under the foregoing are Mercer, Tirau, Mamakau, Ngongotaha; the conditional stops at Walton, Waharoa, Hinuera, Okoroire, Ngatira and Tarukenga are also being eliminated. Thus the maximum number of stops will be seven instead of seventeen.
“Owing to the run from Auckland to Frankton Junction now requiring only 2 hours 29 minutes, the Mercer stop, which was previously made for refreshments, is considered to be no longer necessary. The stations eliminated from the new Auckland-Rotorua Limited service are served by other trains, particularly by the 9 a.m. Bay of Plenty express from Auckland and the Frankton to Rotorua local train, the latter being timed to leave Frankton for Rotorua only 26 minutes after the departure of the Rotorua Limited express from Frankton. The local train will act as a ‘set-down’ train following the ‘Limited.’
“The ‘Limited’ from Rotorua for Auckland will leave Rotorua at 10.10 a.m. instead of the present time of 9 a.m., thus giving passengers more time after breakfast to catch the train: and it will arrive in Auckland at 4 p.m.
“One the run in both directions provision is made for a mid-day meal at the Frankton Junction railway refreshment rooms.
“The ‘Rotorua-Auckland Limited’ will stop at the same stations as the ‘Auckland-Rotorua Limited,’ namely, at Putaruru, Matamata, Morrinsville, Hamilton, Frankton Junction, Pukekohe, and Newmarket. A local train, which will run ahead of this ‘Limited’ to Frankton, will pick up passengers and deal with the local traffic much as under the arrangement now operating, except that it is timed to leave Rotorua much later than at present, and its running time is being substantially shortened. Thus it will leave Rotorua at 7.15 a.m. instead of 6 a.m., and arrive at Frankton as at present, namely, 12.10 p.m.
“From Frankton to Auckland, stops previously made by the Rotorua-Auckland express, which the ‘Rotorua Limited’ will omit, are Ngaruawahia, Huntly, Mercer, Tuakau and Papakura. All these stations will be reasonably served by the Bay of Plenty express from Taneatua, which will leave Frankton Junction at 3.24 p.m., and reach Auckland at 6.30 p.m., as at present.
“I think that the public,” concluded Mr. Taverner, “will appreciate the fact that the time has arrived when the institution of ‘Limited’ expresses on the Rotorua line is fully warranted. A de luxe train, giving rapid transport, is justified by the fact that Rotorua is world-renowned, and consequently the train which serves it should be the classic train of the Dominion. Moreover, with the rising standard of demand as regards passenger services, it is no longer possible to make the same trains cater both for through long distance traffic and local traffic, as has hitherto been attempted by the Rotorua expresses—especially between Frankton and Rotorua.
Replete With Every Comfort for the Traveller.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The exterior of the Observation Car on the new “Auckland-Rotorua Limited Express.”
“Steps have been taken to make the Rotorua services worthy of the Dominion, and I think that the new ‘Rotorua Limiteds,’ with their thoroughly modern cars, equipped with observation compartments and the other modern improvements, and timed on a fast schedule, will do much to advertise the Dominion and create a favourable impression amongst visitors from overseas as well as among our own people, regarding the quality of service the railways of this country can supply. We have endeavoured to do this, not by sacrificing the local traffic, but by speeding up the through train and putting on trains for the local traffic acting by way of feeder trains to the ‘Limited’ expresses that will give the local residents quite a reasonable service.
“It is in order to provide a train service equal to the most exacting modern demands that the ‘Rotorua Limiteds' are being inaugurated, and that so much care and attention has been devoted to the building of suitable vehicles and the provision of other train requirements.
“A great deal of attention has been paid to the time at which these trains should leave and arrive, and I think that the arrangements now made are in every sense suitable, and consequently I have no hesitation in commending them to the people of the Dominion. The present intention is to commence running these ‘Limited’ expresses as from the 5th May, 1930.”
Description of Trains.
In the new trains are incorporated the very latest practice in railway carriage construction.
Each first-class car has been fitted with a coupé to accommodate six passengers. Special attention has been given to the seating, which will be considerably more comfortable than the existing type. Being reversible, these seats have three positions, namely, day, semi-lounge, and total recline. They have all been so arranged in the car as to give, from the seat, a clear view through the related window. All the cars have been fitted with atmospheric steam heaters, and generous facilities for electric light and fans. The whole of the water—160 gallons—is carried below the underframe, and is raised by air pressure.
Each car is sheathed with enamel plates, so that no painting is required, and surfaces can be easily cleaned by a sponge and hose. The colour of both trains is Midland Lake red. For the first time in New Zealand automatic couplers will be used.
At the end of each train is a specially constructed and generously equipped observation car. This has windows 3ft. 6in. in width, and a rounded glass end. It is furnished with lounge chairs.
Many improvements are also being embodied in the second-class cars.
An Attractive and Restful Drawing Room on Wheels.
The interior of the Observation Car on the new “Auckland-Rotorua Limited Express.”
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Speaking of the institution of the new Rotorua service when it was decided to build the trains, the General Manager, Mr. H. H. Sterling, said that it would “help the Department to compete successfully with road services that had come into the field recently over routes served by rail. We will be able to make the trip more interesting and convenient to through passengers than it could be by road. Where the density of traffic warrants it,” he said, “observation and coupé cars certainly can supply opportunities for either work or entertainment, that road services cannot provide. Music, reading, private business, discussions, or secretarial work are among the things that the new daylight passenger train rolling stock will make possible to travellers. With this we hope to build up a social atmosphere on our trains that better equipment, increased facilities for recreation, and higher standards of comfort will encourage.”
Ken Alexander .)
Believe me, dear reader, Multum in Parvo is not the birthplace of Bernard Sure, nor is it the nom de gargle of a Continental cocktail or a sonorific symbol synonymous with soap or Socialism. To be academically ambiloquous it represents one of those meaty and mellifluous maxims with which the Latin lingo is laced; translated romantically and with intoxication, it means “Baby's got a heart of Oak,” or “You can't keep a good man down.” But, according to Ad Absurdum and Isosceles, the Icicle, the term, when subjected to Anglo-Saxophonious strangulation, resolves itself into “much in little,” and can be applied to many things besides the interim of a pelican, and the infant Samuel after the party. In round terms, but strictly on the square, the phrase fits New Zealand like a saveloy's suit, for who can deny that, speaking with due humidity, New Zealand is merely a mole on the face of Nature? But—mark the “but,” dear reader—although certainly she is Parvo in proportions, she is majestically Multum in the multifariousness of her feathered fauna, fossiliferous fecundity, and thermal therapeutics. What other slab of solidified sediment can boast a bird possessing the parodoxical parking propensities of the mutton bird, who, although of the air airy, is also of the earth earthy; for at certain times of the year she contracts an irresistible golf complex and “holes out in one;” in other words, Nature lays her low with a rabbit hunch, and she parks herself underground for the duration of the sitting; but how many really understand or appreciate this boneheaded bird, who, despite its name, is neither mutt or mutton? How many of us ever pause in our pursuit of luck and lucre to consider the domestic problems of this fugitive fowl; how many of us are too little preoccupied to study “Queer Birds I Have Met,” by Oliver flutter? You, careless reader, regarding the mutton bird as a minor feature in the mural decorations of a fishmonger's mortuary—do you never shed a tear for this frustrated fowl, who flies three thousand miles just to dig a hole, and then flies back another three thousand miles to the Silly Isles or Shepherd's Bush, to spend the summer thinking up improvements for next year's hole?
I know of only one recorded instance of a mutton bird, in full possession of its faculties, being kept in captivity. Let us say it in stanzas.
“You can't keep a good man down.”
But let us dry our tears and go with the girl guides to contemplate Nature in hysterics; verily, dear reader, Rotorua is the home-town of Messrs. Brimstone and Treacle; here Mother Nature steps on the gas and takes the corners on her curling pins; she simmers and burbles and boils and bursts; she abandons herself to the “vapours;” she throws her weight about, and is no lady; but she is shamelessly proud of it; she is wild and woolly and wonky; in Rotorua her real nature comes to the surface, and she wots not of the neighbours.
Rotorua, dear reader, had the whole world fried to a cinder. It is an incurable outbreak; a spot which makes Dante's dread-time stories read like a mere Joy-night at the Turkish Baths; compared with Rotorua, Vesuvius is a barber's rash, and Etna a mere wart on the Earth's epidermis. Assuredly the misguided guide who said “See Naples and die,” was indifferently acquainted with his thermaletics, else he would have substituted, “See Rotorua and save your skin.”
Let us linger at the porridge pots; how languidly they open their eyes and close them with a fat flop; hear how they sigh and sob and burble and blub—a minor melody in mud; enough porridge to cater for a thousand Highland
“Much in little.”
“The dry cleaner.”
But he baths, hygienic reader! In Rotorua, every night is Friday night; there are baths to burn but to scald; baths to blend with any local colour; even a chameleon could find no excuse for giving his bath a bye at Rotorua. There are blue baths for the melancholy, red baths for the ruddy, green baths for Erin's output, mud baths for muddlers, yellow baths for the yeller, hip baths, dip baths, and tubs for all temperaments, except that of the drycleaner. It Rotorua everything is curable, except enthusiasm. Rheumatism, pessimism, Bolshevism, dogmatism, rats, bats, and the abysmal blues-they are all dissolved and dissipated in the tinted tubs.
How could Hinemoa help pulling off the prize as New Zealand's earliest bathing beauty?
Even those simple souls who have devoted their lives to the belief that water was invented as an excuse to drink whisky, have been know to fall for hydraulic at Rotorua.
Rotorua is the plumber's purgatory; what plumber, viewing such an orgy of unleashed emotion, such eruptive ructions, such aqueous alacrity, could do nought but bow his head in shame at the contemplation of his own paltry efforts at destructive analysis; doubtless, before he plumbed the depths of devastation at Rotorua, he boasted of his calaphontic cataclysms, his masterpieces of metallurgical misanthropy, his fires, floods and pestilences; but Rotorua holds before his gaze the blow-lamp of truth, and he sees himself as a mere dabbler in hydraulic hysteria and domestic disaster.
Permit me, fatigued reader, with unbecoming immodesty, to file my claim as the pioneer of the rag-wash movement in New Zealand, with head-waters at Rotorua. In my garden on the fringe of Ohinemutu there lurked a simmering pool in comparative captivity. It was so deep that if it were turned upside down it probably would be as high as it was deep, and perhaps
“A mere dabbler in domestic disaster.”
Is it strange that their adventures undermined their fibre after three or four sulphurous immersions and excursions, so deeply that they came to the parting of the ways, and parted all ways at once in more ways than one, and were only fit to cut up for cigarette papers.
I claim no great credit for the rag-wash idea; like all such discoveries, it arose from a natural human indisposition to subject the physiology to unnecessary strains and distresses.
There are several methods of reaching Rotorua, but the only real way is the railway. It you are unable to travel by “Daylight Limited” and follow the sun, you have the option of hitching your wagon to a star and making a night of it. The delights of the Arabian Nights have nothing on railway nights. Nights. Night, dear reader, is the time for travel. There is a time and place for everything: for travel, the night is the time, and the train is the place, for at night the mind is mellow and the soul is soothed; the liver is in lambent mood, and the hand of peace rests lightly and love the consciousness; the fonts of charity and love are uncorked, and harmony occupies the whole interior.
As the train bores a hole through the night your will observe the nocturnal modifications of humanity on the nocturnal modifications of humanity on the hoof. Meanwhile lights flash past your window—swift splashes of illumination hurled at you out of the night; a noble roar tells you that a bridge has been met and conquered; another roar like giants pounding muffled drums, tells you that the earth has flung open its gates to let the flying giant pass under; the brakes exert their powerful but gentle restraint, like the careful pressing of a gargantuan hand; a splash of light rushes to meet you, and stops; out of the night there comes a lonely cry, and you know that you are at a country station. Here a small boy with a large head and a tin trunk as big as a submarine boards the train as proudly as if he were mounting the carcase of a victim dragon. The honeymoon couple under the tartan rug stir, and rush out the eats again; the dear old lady who has been sleeping with her head on her life-mate's chest, like a fatigued cherub, stirs and fumbles for her somehow pathetic hat on her lap; the hearty old gentleman, the baby girl with the plump pink legs, the whole happy band of nocturnal migrants, are transported by the magic of the wheels whirring under the excellent rolling stock of the Railways to New Zealand's wonderful garden of geysers.
“The pioneer if the ray-wash movement.”
X-Cellent Rolling Stock On The Railway
Inspection Of Hillside Workshops.
At the invitation of the General Manager of Railways Mr. H. H. Sterling, over 100 members of the Dunedin Chamber of Commerce recently paid a visit of inspection to the Department's new workshops at Hillside, Dunedin. The visitors were accompanied by Mr. Sterling, Mr. E. T. Spidey (Superintendent of Workshops), Mr. C. Graham (Workshops Manager), Mr. G. Baird (General Foreman), and other members of the official staff at Hillside, who acted as guides and demonstrators. Commencing with the Steel Wagon Shop a thorough inspection was made of the entire works, the visitors being much impressed alike by their magnitude and modern equipment. Especially interesting to them was the fact that the principal raw materials in use at Hillside were of New Zealand production—the Otago Iron Rolling Mills at Green Island, supplying large quantities of rolled iron and steel, whilst Onakaka pig Iron was used exclusively for iron castings. After the inspection, the visitors were entertained by the Department at afternoon tea in the dining room of the Social Hall, in the course of which they were addressed by Mr. Sterling, who briefly outlined the policy of the Department in regard to the workshops generally. The illustrations shew: (1) The visitors outside the Workshops Manager's office; (2) inspecting shop layout work; (3) watching cold-flanging of boiler plates; and (4) the visitors at afternoon tea.
Well-directed publicity campaigns designed to increase passenger and freight traffic are now an essential feature in the management of a modern railway. In his current Letter, our special London Correspondent discusses the striking publicity work conducted by the Home railways ad makes interesting reference to Continental railway enterprise.
The department that deals with passenger travel publicity is one of the youngest branches of the railway industry, but, in these days of keen competition, clever advertising campaigns are retaining to rail much business which otherwise would be lost, as well as securing for railways the world over a large volume of new traffic. There was a time when even educated and experienced railway traffic officers regarded passenger advertising more as a plaything for headquarters than as a practical and worthwhile activity. Nowadays the real value of passenger publicity in all its forms is appreciated to the full by one and all.
To-day, almost every railway of any magnitude possesses its own skilled publicists, who are daily engaged in the arduous, but nevertheless most fascinating task, of luring the traveller to the rail route, alike when on business or pleasure bent. The accomplishments of the Publicity and Advertising Departments of the New Zealand Railways have time and again been noted by railway folk at Home, and the work of these departments must prove of the greatest assistance in the building up of passenger revenues.
Broadly speaking, newspaper advertising forms the backbone of the Home railway passenger advertising campaigns. This form of publicity has proved exceptionally successful, and both national and local publications are employed to carry the railway message to the public. Supplementing press publicity, comes poster advertising, handbill distribution, personal canvassing, and the circulation of holiday literature of suitable character, prior to, and during the summer vacation season. The most successful type of holiday book issued by each of the four Home group railways takes the form of an apartments and holiday guide, describing very briefly the whole of the pleasure resorts on the system, and containing details of the holiday accommodation available thereat. As an instance of the success of this style of publication, in may be noted that of last year's issue of the London and North Eastern Railway's all-line holiday guide, priced at sixpence, some 100,000 copies were sold prior to the opening of the summer vacation season.
The advertising managers of the Home railways are directly responsible to their general managers for the advertising policy of the line. The advertising budget is carefully divided out under different headings, e.g., poster publicity, press advertising, and so on, and frequent review is made of this allocation, in consultation with the passenger traffic managers. Home railway advertising is well directed, attractive and timely. In view of the enormous competition now being faced by the Home lines, the fact that, in a single year, the four group systems sell some 1,300,000,000 passenger ticket, is in itself a tribute to the worth of the elaborate advertising campaigns conducted by the respective publicity departments.
One of the most interesting features of passenger department development in recent times has been the growth, in almost every land, of
London has numerous railway-owned hotels. In the provinces almost every city has one, if not more, railway-owned guest-house for the accommodation of travellers. A further development has been the opening of sumptuous railway-owned hotels in scenic territory removed from the principal centres of population, but likely to prove of service to the tourist and sports lover. Examples of this type of railway-owned hotel are found in the London, Midland and Scottish Company's Gleneagles establishment, and the Bovey Tracey Hotel of the Great Western Railway, in picturesque Devonshire.
The “Iron Horse” of 1930.
The new high-pressure steam locomotive “Fury,” of the L.M.S. Railway.
Usually the hotels manager is also charged with the supervision of refreshment room and dining-car services, and, in recent years, the growth of the catering department has been very striking. Apart from the operation of dining-cars and station restaurants, a feature which may interest New Zealand railway folk is the successful experiment of the Great Western Railway in sending page-boys with chocolates, cigarettes, fruit and light refreshments, on excursion and other trains on which restaurant car facilities are not provided, and stops not made at stations furnished with refreshment rooms.
The locomotive forms the basis of railway haulage, and no matter how comfortable passenger carriages may be, or how efficiently the station staffs carry out their respective duties, it is useless to expect to attract the traveller if locomotives are not powerful enough to meet every demand that may be made upon them. Last month's Letter made reference to the efforts of the Home railways to increase locomotive efficiency and economy, and dealt in detail with the new high-pressure locomotive, No. 10,000, introduced on the London and North Eastern Railway system. Following the lead thus set, another wonderful high-pressure machine has been put into experimental service on the London, Midland and Scottish line.
The new L.M. and S. locomotive is appropriately named “Fury.” It follows the design of the well-known “Royal Scot” class as regards the frame, but is a three-cylinder compound, the high pressure cylinder being situated between the frames, and the two low pressure cylinders outside the frames. The boiler is of the “Schmidt” high-pressure type, and consists of two distinct systems of boilers, each carrying a different pressure, varying from 250lbs. to 900lbs. per square inch. High-pressure steam is generated in a drum separated from the normal boiler, and is first employed in the high-pressure cylinder of 11 1/2in. diameter at 900lbs., being then mixed with low-pressure steam from the boiler and used in the two low-pressure cylinders at 250lbs. The tractive effort of the machine is 33,200lbs., and the new locomotive is now undergoing extensive trials on the L.M. and S. Anglo-Scottish main line.
Railways all over the world continue to pay the closest attention to the problem of road competition. At Home this competition has largely been met by the railways themselves embarking upon road transport for both passengers and freight. This arrangement appears to be the one which most of the world's railways are following, and from the United States, the
Rail-Road Co-Ordination In Britain.
A heavy steam lorry in the Great Western Railway delivery services.
One of the most interesting records of the development of railway-owned road services comes from South Africa. The South African railways, like those of New Zealand, work to a gauge of 3ft. 6in., and much of the country traversed is not dissimilar to that found in New Zealand. The first regular railway-owned road motor service in South Africa was commenced after the Great War. Since then road motors have been extensively acquired by the South African Railways, and during the twelve months ended March 31st, 1929, the aggregate mileage run by these vehicles totalled 4,144,368. The number of passengers handled reached 1,450,552, and 112,791 tons of general merchandise and 577,825 gallons of cream were dealt with. There is a tremendous field for the development of railway-owned and operated road motors as feeders to the railway proper, and in New Zealand, the fullest use will, in course of time, doubtless be made of railway-owned road motors.
One of the most interesting moves in the European railway world is the amalgamation of the two underground electric railways serving Paris-the Metropolitan and the North-South system. The Metropolitan system comprises about 60 miles of double-track, with 174 stations. Trains are run on the direct current system at 600 volts, with track conductor. Train signalling is entirely automatic, and trains normally consist of five carriages, which carry about 500 passengers. In a normal week, some 13,000,000 passengers are handled, and the staff employed on the system numbers 8,200.
In relation to its size and population, the French capital is better served by underground railways than any other city in the world, there being about one mile of double-track to every 42,500 inhabitants. For many years there has been a close working agreement between, the Metropolitan and the North-South system, and their amalgamation into one compact undertaking will enable better service to be given the public, at the same time effecting valuable economies in management and operation.
Electrification of railways was, at the outset, mainly confined to city and suburban lines, such as those of the Paris Metropolitan system.
Royal trains are always objects of intense interest, alike for railwaymen and the general public. The magnificence of the new Royal train constructed for use on the Italian State Railways by the Fiat Company, of Turin, has never before been approached. The train is composed of three cars (one for the King, one for the Queen, and a dining saloon), and really resembles nothing so much as a wonderful palace on wheels. Each car is 64ft. 7 1/2in. long, exclusive of buffers. In each of been constructed a vestibule, a parlour, a bedroom, a lavatory, two or three compartments for the attendants and aide-de-camp, and accommodation for servants. In the dining-car is a large dining saloon with a table 23ft. long, and 20 chairs, as well as a vestibule, a pantry, and a private retiring room for the King.
The train is painted blue on the exterior, and the cars are emblazoned with the Royal crown and the mystic inscription “R.I.C.,” which, being translated, means that the train may travel over all Continental railway systems. In the interior of the three Royal cars lavish use has been made of gold, silks, brocades, bronze, enamels, tapestries, carpets and precious woods. The Queen's parlour forms a perfect picture. It is furnished with a settee, a writing table and two small armchairs, and is decorated in pale blue. The adjoining bedroom is in yellow. There is an austere magnificence in the dining-car, a riot of colour and symbols, a triumph in red and gold. In the centre of the ceiling, gleaming like a star, is the Royal crown. It is surrounded by motifs of grain, vine and flowers-signifying plenty, fertility and poetry. Red velvet tapestries, interwoven with gold and with the Cross of Savoy in silver, crimson curtains and artistically cut crystal lamps, complete the majesty of the saloon down the centre of which runs a mahogany table, so highly polished as to reflect every detail of the ceiling as sharply as in a mirror. Twenty square chairs in worked leather stand around the table, and a magnificent carpet covers the floor. Altogether, the new Italian Royal train certainly represents the last word in the railway coach builder's art.
In England Now.
Holiday crowds at the Liverpool Street station (L. and N.E.R.) London.
A three Power Pact with an “if”-Mr. MacDonald appeals to Europe-Political atmosphere improved by Conference-Economic problems remain.
Treaty with safety valve.
There is, of course, an “if” in the new Three-Power naval limitation agreement. That it would be confined to three Powers, and that it would contain an “if” was evident weeks before the London Naval Conference closed. The three Powers (Britain, United States, and Japan) bind themselves to a certain degree of naval limitation “if” France or Italy (the Powers who do not sign this limitation portion of the Treaty or some other Power does not take such measures of naval construction as will compel Britain to free herself of the limitation. Being, after all, an island off the coast of Europe, and being therefore unable to clear herself of all European entanglements after the manner of the United States or Japan, Britain was compelled to insist on an “if” clause; or, as Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald calls it, a protection clause. Under this provision, Britain may legally and honourably withdraw from the limitation contract with the United States and Japan if she deems her naval position to be sufficiently affected by ships built or contemplated by non-signatory Powers.
* * *
Europe holds the Throttle.
From cabled summaries to hand at time of writing, it seems that the Three-Power Naval Limitation Agreement is a part (Part III.) of a Five-Power Treaty, the London Naval Treaty of 1930, which is, of course, subject to ratification. That France and Italy should have seen their way to sign so much of this Treaty (including Part IV. curbing submarine action) encourages the hope that they may yet join up with the limitation portion. France and Italy now have it in their hands to better the Treaty by a mutual disarmament arrangement equalling (or exceeding) its limitation provisions. They also have it in their power to undermine the Treaty by entering upon a degree of naval construction such as shall compel insular Britain to withdraw (under the protection clause) from three-Power limitation, and to build ships against a European menace. To ward off that disaster, Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald openly appeals to the peoples of the Continent. Disdaining camouflage, he says that the Conference “will prove” (not “has proved”) a great landmark “if what has been done is immediately used to prepare the public mind to do more.” Post-conference conversations may “make any use of the protection clause unnecessary,” and “I appeal to the public opinion of Europe to range itself behind those conducting these negotiations.”
* * *
Candid Prime Minister.
Though the limitation part of the Treaty does not yet cover either as many Powers or as many ships as its designers aimed at, it effects a tremendous money saving (with, of course, consequential unemployment in dockyards), and it tends to clear the atmosphere of the Atlantic and the Pacific, while effecting some break in the European clouds. Though the London
Britain and the Bath.
“Bathing in Hyde Park” (and mixed bathing it would seem) is the heading under which the papers tell of some criticism of the MacDonald Government's baths policy in London. For many years it was considered to be trite, but at the same time truthful, to write about “the Englishman and his Bath.” But recently some iconoclastic observers in the London weeklies have been alleging that the Continental does far more bathing than the Englishman, and that the European public baths, especially in supposedly depressed cities like Vienna and Budapest, are far more accommodating, more artistic, and on the whole cheaper than anything of the kind in London. Something of the Roman tradition of the baths seems to linger over parts of Middle Europe, and Mr. Grundy, who has not been much heard of lately; and the Minister remained unabashed. “I am a person of the broadest views,” he said.
How Barter Breaks Down.
There has been an echo in the papers of Mr. J. H. Thomas's wheat-buying and coal-supplying mission some months ago to Canada. As Minister in special charge of the British coal back to Canada, giving employment problem, Mr. Thomas urged the Canadian wheat holders to sell, so that trans Atlantic wheat ships might carry British coal back to Canada, giving employment in the collieries, on the prairies, and in between. Some allusion by the Minister to the fact that holders who did not sell now would face a lower wheat market led to an admission by the wheat pool leaders that they spurned Mr. Thomas's grain marketing advice. Further than that, they “refused to comment.” There is food in Canada, there is coal in England, but there is the usual difference of opinion about terms of exchange. Likewise, there is wool in New Zealand and Australia, and all over the world there are people needing clothes, yet trade sticks somewhere. The Dominion wool-grower thinks he is contributing too much to deflation in the woollen industry. The Yorkshire employees, faced with a prospect of an 8 per cent. wage cut, think likewise. They and their employers may fight it out, and prayers have been offered in Yorkshire churches to avoid an industrial stop-page that would embitter human relations, and which, while enabling woollen stocks to be cleared, would give rival fibres and the competing woollen manufactures of other countries a fresh start. Even the churches cannot find a plan to divide the benefits of the golden fleece between employer and employee (here and oversea), spinner manufacturer, seller, and consumer, on a scale so satisfying that brotherly love shall continue.
Civilisation's Frontiersmen.
Invention has not removed the romance of adventure, but has considerably altered it. Four exploration parties (American, British, Australian, and Norwegian) have been busy in the Antarctic, using all methods, old and new. Sir Hubert Wilkins now says that Stefansson, as ling ago as 1913, foresaw that the Polar use of the aeroplane would be limited to reconnaissance work. Wilkins insists on the practicability of the submarine in the icefields of both Poles. Sir
Fashion's New Victim.
That the British worker must be fed and clothed cheaply, if the employee and employer in the Dominions are to prosper, is of course an axiom. His Majesty's Trade Commissioner in New Zealand, Mr. L. A. Paish, in emphasising Britain's recovery, compares her unemployment figures favourably with those of Germany and the United States, and says there are only two depressed British industries—coalmining and textiles. Textiles include cotton (suffering from capital inflation as well as new Indian and Japanese competition) and wool. Last year the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Philip Snowden, emphasised the greater expansibility of British trade with India (of low purchasing power) than with Australia, whose slow-growing population has a high purchasing power, also a high tariff. But while there could be a great expansion in Indian buying, India's tariff is high enough, her manufacturers are keen enough, and her labour is cheap enough to leave the importer no simple task. But if no immediate fortune is to be made by textile manufactures in supplying cottons to India, better luck may attend the effort to induce men to wear rich, dainty lingerie. Fashion has long exploited women. Why not men? Those ladders of fortune created by the short skirt might equally accompany short trousers.
Soil v. Synthetics.
Besides exporting human brains, New Zealand exports a great deal of primary produce (food and raw material), and so little manufactured goods that the latter hardly count. Exported wool and butter meet with the competition of synthetic rivals, and some little time ago London cabled “nothing but the shipwreck of a couple of steamers each with 10,000 cases of butter aboard can prevent the butter market from further collapsing.” The principal factor in the decline “is the increasing consumption of margarine, which is now marketed of excellent quality at prices ranging from 8d. to 1/- as compared with 1/9 for butter.” Couple this with the statement made in New Zealand by Mr. W. Goodfellow (organiser of a New Zealand-Australian butter-marketing scheme) that the Margarine Union holds a controlling interest in 6,000 shops; also that, Auckland province's production of dairy produce, at present rate of expansion, will double in ten years. So it is very important to New Zealand to sell more butter in the United Kingdom, in Canada, etc. But while New Zealand wishes to sell butter in Canada, and Canada wishes to sell timber in New Zealand, local producers in either case may have other views.
On The North Island Main Trunk Line.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
A goods train, hauled by a Garratt locomotive rounding a curve near Taumarunui, North Island.
A Charming Landscape Scene in the Mid-North Island Country
(Rly Publicity Photo)
The Makohine Viaduct, which spans a beautiful gorge on the run between Ohingaiti and Mangaonoho, on the North Island Main Trunk Line. This viaduct is a notable engineering work of steel-lattice towers set on concrete piers. It is 750ft. in length, and rises to a height of 240ft. above the stream in the gorge.
James Cowan.)
The first section of the train journey from Auckland and Wellington is along the Main Trunk Railway to Frankton Junction. The distance from Auckland to Frankton is eighty-five miles, and from Wellington 341 miles. Both routes have their great landscape charms. The great scenic attraction of the route from Wellington to the Waikato-Rotorua junction is the section between the Upper Rangitikei and Taumarunui, at the head of navigation of the Wanganui River. Here the railway closely approaches the base of Mt. Ruapehu, the great glaciated peak of the North Island, and there are views of Ngauruhoe volcano and other wonderful features of the Tongariro National Park. Here the line, at an altitude of over 2,600 feet, passes through a part of the vast forest that once covered all this mountain country, and crosses, by great steel viaduct, numerous deep gulches and canyons.
Railway travel, with all its modern improvements in speed and comfort, has greatly eased and simplified the once rather difficult and expensive journey from New Zealand's coast cities to the Rotorua thermal wonder country. In the old days—not so long ago but that they are still well within one's memory—there was a day's horse-coach travel from the rail-head at Cambridge, in the Waikato. or from the little port of Tauranga, before the seemingly interminable forest opened out and the weary passenger saw below the blue waters of Lake Rotorua gleaming in the setting sun, and the myriad hot springs around the shores rising in snowy clouds like the smoke of enchanted camp fires. Nowadays the run to Lakeland is as speedy and pleasant and safe as technical science and a progressive State Department can make it.
Perhaps there was more of strangeness and enchantment about this amazing part of New Zealand in the pre-railway era than there is today, for those who enjoy roughing it, and who like to skirmish ahead of the tourist. But the discomforts and the cost discouraged most people. It was difficult to get about the country; the accommodation was primitive. For years after the foundation of the State township on the southern shore of the famous lake, the Geyser country was, in effect, reserved for a few people with leisure and money. The coming of the railway changed all that. The year 1894 saw the completion of the Government rail line linking up Rotorua with Auckland and the outside world, and this revolutionised travel, set the builders of hotels and boardinghouses and shops to work, set shipbuilders turning out steam launches for the lakes, and made a Lakeland tour a pleasure for the multitude. Nowadays the New Zealander has little excuse for not paying the Rotorua-Taupo region a visit—indeed, a visit year after years. For no matter how many times one has trained it to the land of lakes and geysers, there is always something new to see; and there is always something of the charm of breaking into a magic land as well as land of beauty. For all the changes and luxuries that time has brought to the place, a vast deal of the olden enchantment remains, and Nature has a way of asserting herself in unexpected forms now and again by way of reminding mere man that she, after all, is supreme.
A recent overseas visitors to New Zealand gave it as his opinion that our Geyserland was more interesting than the famous Yellowstone Park. Though New Zealand's geyser country was smaller, he said, that very fact was an advantage rather than a drawback. In the Rotorua region the traveller found one wonder after another in quick succession, and the impression of the whole was more lasting. In Yellowstone Park one had travel a considerable area between the sights. It was true that America's great thermal park had larger geysers than Rotorua, but one did not measure beauty by size.
Branching off from the North Island Main Trunk Railway at Frankton Junction (85 miles from Auckland and 341 miles from Wellington), the line to Rotorua traverses a part of the Waikato-Waihou Plain, and crosses the Mamaku forest range to the lakes and geyser country, a distance of 86 miles. This part of the journey to Rotorua takes four hours, and those four hours are full of interest all the way; rail travel in this part of New Zealand is the reverse of monotonous. There is first the crossing of the Waikato River by a lofty bridge, from which you have a view of the deep, strong stream flowing swiftly between high cliffy banks and green terraces, and the pretty town of Hamilton spread on both sides amidst its tree-groves and gardens. The next few miles are a garden country, too; the land is rich and closely cultivated. Then we are out in the great dairying region of New Zealand's interior, a land of large herds and many factories. Butter-fat brings millions of money to this most favoured grazing country. Much of it is reclaimed swamp, especially around the town and railway junction of Morrinsville (named after an Auckland merchant of forty years ago, Mr. Thomas Morrin, who originally owned a large area of this then undeveloped, country). Here a branch line goes to Te Aroha and the Thames, branching off again at Paeroa for the Bay of Plenty coast and Taneatua. To the northward is the Piako country, once a huge swamp, now the well settled and wealthy Hauraki Plains.
The Matamata Plain, with its business centre at Matamata town (37 miles from Frankton) is a place of marvellously rapid development, wholly the result of the profitable dairying industry. Once it was a great estate owned by a pioneer settler, the late Mr. J.C. Firth, who bought it in the 'Sixties from the Ngati-Haua tribe, of whom the celebrated Wiremu Tamehana, the Maori Kingmaker, was the head chief. Firth was a most vigorous settler, a splendid type of nation-maker; he spent many thousands of pounds in opening up the Waihou River for steam traffic to his station, and in breaking-in the waste land. After his day the plain was gradually subdivided for close settlement, and any man who owns a hundred acres of this good Matamata land is very comfortably off indeed. This grass country feeds a cow to the acre all the year round. Here, at Waharoa—named after the great warrior chief who was Tamehana's father—is the largest dairy produce factory in New Zealand, and, in fact, in the world. A million sterling a year comes to the Matamata-upper Waihou country, the earnings from butter-fat.
Travelling De Luxe on the New Zealand Railways.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
The interior of the Observation Car on the new Rotorua “Limited Express.”
Putaruru, 18 miles beyond Matamata, is a junction of roads and railway. Here is the nearest car route to the great Arapuni hydro-electrical works on the Waikato River. A timber company has a branch line of railway from this station southward to the North Taupo forests. About here, too, are the new plantations of exotic pines, covering a very large area of hitherto useless country; we are now approaching the pumice area of the island-heart. The name Putaruru, by the way, is a reminder of the days when native bush covered these parts. It means “The owl's nest in a hollow tree.”
A Combination of Luxury and Comfort.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
A first-class compartment on the new Rotorua “Limited Express.”
The rail line now begins the gradual ascent of the pumice-coated range of hills culminating in the Mamaku plateau. Settlement here is sparse, after the good grass country. At Ngatira there is a small Maori settlement; a meeting-house of the olden type, with carved front, is seen on the right as the train goes through the village. The name Ngatira means “The Travelling Parties”; this was one of the oldtime tracks over the hills from Tapapa (near Putaruru) to Rotorua. Arahiwi, a small place a few miles further on, means “The Track to the Ridge.” The name Mamaku, the next station, is that of the black fern-tree (cyathea medullaris). It is however, not the original name of the place. That part of the range over which our line passes was called by the Maoris, Kaponga (the silver fern-tree (cyathea dealbata), but when the railway was being built, some forty years ago, it was found necessary to change the name, because there was already a Kaponga township in Taranaki, and confusion was caused in postal addresses. The Government authorities selected Mamaku as the substitute, but the name is quite inappropriate, because the mamaku (or korau) fern-tree is not seen in this part of the country; other fern trees grow in abundance. Tuakura or Katote (the names of other species would have fitted the place well.
To this Mamaku station the climbs by a winding way, through deep rock cuttings and over great embankments. A vast forest once covered all this broken tableland, the highest part of the Hautere that extends from the Tauranga Ranges to the patetere Plains. Now the sawmiller has thinned out the bush the settler is taking his place, and the grand old red pine timberlands are but a remnant. A railside fringe of the woods has fortunately been saved, and this belt of bush, with its graceful dropping rimu, it rata, its kahikatea and tawa, and its wild parks of fern-trees, is a cool, fragrant, eye-refreshing curtain of foliage that too quickly lifts as the train mounts the summit.
Mamaku station, with its sawmill and its stores and cottages, crowning the plateau, is at an altitude of 1,884 feet. The railway emerges
rimu trees. Next, close to Tarukenga, is the gorge of Te Uhi (“The Tattooing Chisel”) with a cyclopean rock wall on the left, its straight gleaming scarps seem chiselled by some primeval giants. In the lower part of the Uhi Gorge (right) close to the line, the rail traveller may see a good specimen of the parasitic rata at its tree-strangling work; making its way along the trunk of a large rimu, it has thrown out numerous lateral fingers or hoops, ringing the pine in a never-relaxed embrace.
Accommodation Amenities for the second-Class Passenger.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
A second-class compartment on the new “Rotorua Limited” Express.
It is through a break in the bush, soon after leaving Mamaku, leading out into vista of ferny hills and gullies, that the train passenger sees, on his right hand, but far below, a blue lake glistening in the westering sun. This lake fills the middle of a shallow basin, which is, from rim to rim, fifteen to twenty miles across. The rims of the basin are soft blue fringes of varied outline, wooded in most places to the sky-line. The land on nearly every side slopes down gracefully and gradually to the level shores. Far below there are well-grassed farms where once there was nothing but manuka scrub and fern and tutu bushes. There are plantation of exotic trees, and gardens, alternating with grey stretches of manuka. A massive mountain partly blocks the view, slanting in long and shapely lines of rest to the manuka levels. This is Ngongotaha. “The Mountain of the Fairies.” in Maori legend. The soft blue lake is Rotorua—“Double Lake,” as it was called by the earliest Maori explorer who first caught sight of it from a viewpoint which showed it apparently divided into two. In the middle of the lake sits a foliaged island, Mokoia, of romantic memory. It rounds off and completes this peaceful water-sheet with a delicious harmony. Sometimes on a day of calm and soft thin gauzy haze it seems uplifted in airy space against the round plates of shimmering water, the blue island of a dream. Again, its wooded slopes and out-jutting rock-faces are all glowing in the gold of a gorgeous sunset, or it rests there in dark purples deepened by evening distances, and the meditative shadows, as you may often see it from the incoming train.
But just now everyone is looking for geysers and steam clouds, and though huge puia are not
ngawha. Everything is spread out like a map below, for we are more than seventeen hundred feet above sea-level, and eight hundred above Rotorua lake. At Tarukenga station, there is a full, and unobstructed picture of the Rotorua basin, an eye-feast of colour and form, lake, mountain and forest blended like a poem, “a thing finely poised between grandeur and gentleness.”
Beyond the white pumice cliffs on Rotorua's eastern shore, that glisten like chalk in the sun, there is a glint of another lake, Rotoiti of the many bays, and the indigo ranges of Whakapoungakau and the bold dark head of Matawhaura mountain build up the far eastern skyline. Little beaches glimmer white; the lake is streaked and shot with patches and veins like the inside of the iridescent pawa shell, and a white sail or two and flitting motor-launches give life to the waters of calm. Here and there below us the slopes and levels are softly painted and panelled with the grassy fields of farms; as a great lover of the out-of-doors wrote of Belvoir Vale, the scene is “glorious and beautiful with the unconscious and labour paints upon the canvas of Nature.” But the paint-brush of civilisation has touched only a portion of this lakeland hollow. Grey and sage-green and blue are the dominant colours; manuka and fern and range-clinging forest are still components of the colour scheme in this great saucer of the Arawa country. Soon all this country will be covered with grove-sheltered homesteads and orchards and gardens, and then the boiling holes and sulphur pools and the sinter terraces and alum cliffs will seem all the more wonderful by contrast.
Soon the train is on the levels, crossing now and again a trout stream twisting down from the hills between low banks clothed in manuka and flax bushes, and presently there comes a sniff of sulphuretted hydrogen as a clear brook is crossed, and there is a glimpse of steaming pools half-veiled in white vapour. That first whiff of the sulphurous regions abides in the memory. It is the first sign and token of a curious land, unpleasant to some on a first; acquaintance, yet hailed with a greeting after a year or two of absence. As one comes to know the Geyser Country he grows accustomed to the pungent odour of the sulphur springs, and perhaps to like it, as the natives do. Use makes one tolerant of many things once passing strange, and Rotorua is not the only famous place where the traveller receives his first impressions through the nose. However, even these insistent odours of Hot Spring Land have their uses. The sulphur breath that rises through a thousand crevices and solfataras in the fern or manuka scrub or in the lakeside gardens seems effectually to fumigate the place.
The Finest Train on the New Zealand Railways.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
The new Rotorua “Limited Express” on one of its trial runs.
)Rodan Hathaway .
The Man behind the Wheel did not look happy. He sat there, a grim look of dissatisfied resignation on his face, a tense look in his eyes— decidedly miserable.
As the shining gray car shot forward, there were wild squeals of delight from the other occupants of the car who nestled in deeply upholstered back seat, but the Man at the Wheel sat straight and rigid, every now and again glancing with anxiety at a large leather trunk which reposed in rather a precarious position at his side.
Slowly it was dawning upon him that this was no holiday—no careless throwing off of daily cares. Here he was, cramped up with the weight of a huge travelling case, his hands moving mechanically, piloting the great car through dangerous passes, his eyes staring and sore, searching the wayside signs so very important to the motorist who does not know the road.
He had protested, “But I don't the way there …..” But his protests had been ignored by his eager family. “All the more reason why we should go—new scenes will do you good!”
New scenes! His thoughts were bitter—new scenes—fleeting glimpses of the surrounding country, then eyes straight ahead. The sign said “Sharp Bend,” and one drove cautiously, “Drive Slowly,” and one slackened one's speed, “Railway Crossing,” and one gazed anxiously down the gleaming steel tracks—new scenes!
His back was aching—he longed to relax, to lie back in his seat and enjoy the drive, but it was not to be—anxiously he wondered if he had enough petrol to see him through to the next station, automatically he moved closer into the left side as a raucous din proclaimed the approach of another car.
On and on—winding black roads, shining like waterways in the shimmering heat—to the right—to the left—across a bridge—round a bend—on and on—with staring eyes and aching back, with fingers rigidly gripping the wheel—on and on …
And to himself, the Man at the Wheel was whispering, “Next time—next time.”
A happy man walked briskly into the busy rail way station, his eyes were gleaming with excitement, for he was no longer the “Man at the Wheel,” he was the “Man on Holiday”—how different!
New Zealand Tourist Attractions
Photo G Laurence
Pohuto Geyser in Action at Rotorua.(Reached By Rail From Auckland)
In his pocket reposed a little oblong of cardboard, insignificant, but very wonderful—for it was his pass to blessed contentment—his railway ticket! With a happy smile on his lips, the man on Holiday stepped onto the train, and passing between the rows of seats, found his own, and with a sigh of utter contentment, he settled down into its comfort.
The engine gave a shrill scream, the people waved last farewells, and slowly, steadily, the long train moved off—faster, faster—into the country, between high hills resplendent in the morning sun.
And the man on Holiday gazed happily at the passing scenes. No need to “watch the road” now, one just relaxed and forgot the cares of the day, one revelled in “new scenes,” blue skies, and sun-bathed landscapes—one was happy.
“Canadian Pacific” Enterprise
New Monster Locomotive to Develop 1,350lbs. Pressure
We have received advice from Mr. J. T. Campbell, the recently appointed representative for Wellington and the South Island of the Canadian Pacific Railway and Steamships Company, that a new locomotive, designed to give the tremendous tractive effort of 83,200 pounds and to be operated on a high steam pressure principle, will be immediately placed under construction at the Angus Shops of the Canadian Pacific Railway. This engine, the first of its kind on the American Continent, will be one of the most powerful in the world, and will be the most powerful in the British Empire.
The new engine has a tractive effort 37,900 pounds greater than what is known as the “2800 series” recently hailed as the fastest and most modern passenger engines yet produced. Canadian material will be used in the building of this new giant of the railway, with the exception only of materials that are not procurable from Canadian manufacturers. Plans for the design were recently completed for the Company by H. B. Bowen, Chief of Motive Power and Rolling Stock.
The new locomotive will have a two wheel leading track, five pairs, of driving wheels and a four wheel trailing truck. The locomotive alone will weigh approximately 466,500 pounds and the tender 297,500 pounds, making a total weight of 764,000 pounds, or 341 tons. It will operate under multiple pressure, and will burn oil—fuel. High pressure steam will be used in the center cylinder at 830 pounds pressure. This steam will be generated by heat interchange coils in the high pressure drum, the coils being part of a sealed system consisting of tubes and headers which will contain distilled water.
A pressure of approximately 1,350 pounds will be carried in the closed generating system and heat interchange coils. The forward end of the boiler will be of the conventional type and will generate steam at 250 pounds pressure per square inch.
The high pressure steam will be superheated, and after passing through the high pressure cylinder will be supplemented by superheated steam from the low pressure boiler and fed to the two low pressure cylinders; the exhaust from the outer or low pressure cylinders will be utilised in a feed—water heater in the customary way as well as furnishing the stack draft as is customary on conventional types of locomotives. The feedwater for the high pressure drum, where 850 pounds pressure steam is generated, is obtained from the forward part of the boiler carrying 200 pounds pressure. This ensures a supply of feedwater in which the scale—forming solids have been precipitated, and will obviate any difficulties being encountered with incrustation of the heat interchange coils. The low pressure boiler will be fed through the feedwater heater with a standard water pump, and the high pressure drum will be furnished with water by means of a special high pressure pump.
The locomotive will have three cylinders, the high pressure or centre cylinder being 15 1/2 inches diameter by 28 inches stroke, and the two outer or low pressure cylinders 24 inches diameter by 30 inches stroke.
Scene From a Locomotive Cab.
Running down hill from Johnsonville, Wellington Province, New Zealand.
One of the World's Most Wonderful Tourist Resorts
Easy of access from either Wellington or Auckland, Rotourua, New Zealand's thermal wonderland wPikau tamaiti; (5)and (6) the Sanatorium and grounds; (7) Guide Mary; (8) the Maori village of Ohinemutu; (9)and (10)pohutu
ByW. S. Dale ,M.A., Dip. Ed.)
The subject of production methods as carried out in New Zealand Railway Workshops is discussed in the following instalment of Mr. Dale's series of articles on modern Industrial Psychology.
So far we have discussed in a relatively nontechnical manner some of the factors as they affect the worker objectively. By this we mean the worker considered in relation to the job by the employer; how output is affected by certain physiological or phychological processes, and in the last article, a detailed consideration of some social relationships within the factory as well as those that are the result of interaction between workroom and leisure. Before we leave the subject of the employer to examine that of the employee, it is necessary to investigate what is but another aspect of scientific management.
The main factor in successful business is the ability to deliver orders when they are promised. In New Zealand, unfortunately, it is not possible to admit such as a general axiom. That the employer is, as yet, too haphazard, is proved by the report of the Boot Commission, where it was admitted that no adequate system was in vogue for routing and timing. The employer, too often, thinks he knows. Long association with his factory breeds, shall we say, contempt? Hardly that perhaps, but it certainly is something akin to ignorance, since it is very often good guess work. In many factories “rush” orders mean entire suspension of stock work, and a concentration on new work so that it may go out “on time.” It is a surprising fact, but, at no period of production, can many employers say where the order is or how far it is on the road to completion. This is one of the factors which retards production. The maximum production is reached only after tremendous output of energy, instead of our first postulate, minimum of effort.
Because of this obvious shortcoming in our industrial system I propose to write upon method in production with definite reference to the Railway Shops, where this aspect has been introduced. It is still on the way to final polishing by those who are analysing, but for all that it is sufficiently complete to warrant citation. To the man in the street any Government Department is synonymous with light labour, short hours, and all the accompanying factors of “an easy job.” This, however, is not so. In the workshops of the Railway Department a high standard of efficiency is set.
The first essential is the shop lay-out. This has been treated in detail in previous articles, and a passing word only is necessary. There must be continual progression in a forward direction. It is wasteful, economically unsound, and liable to increase “overhead” if this lay-out is not made. Within the shop itself, provided the machinery is properly set out for economic routing of jobs, each operation should be “timed.” If the best workman is taken the time may be too short for the average workman, or conversely, the average workman may be “rushed.” Larger jobs may be reckoned in some other unit, say an hour. A day as a unit is too loose for scientific purposes, besides which, one cannot be certain that a “day” has the same meaning to all concerned, and science abhors what cannot be “pinned down.”
As each part of the job is “clocked,” a “sum-total” time can be reached for the complete production of one or fifty articles. But is should not be merely noted. Definite permanent graphs should be made up for each type of work undertaken. This is necessary, for two reasons. The first is because “repeat” orders of standard lines can be worked out upon a definite “time” basis, and the second is that given “time” cost, “overhead,” and “initial material” cost, the factory cost, with a safe margin of profit, can be checked out in a few minutes. As a matter of fact I heard one manager give a definite price within
three minutes over the telephone. But he had his production sheets in a drawer, together with relevant cost details, taken out separately and completely. There is the additional convenience too, that the production can be checked off at any one stage by reference to detail sheets. These are general facts which we shall now examine in detail.
Methods of work will be treated in a subsequent article, but the main thing is to analyse the “job” into units. Each process in the manufacture must be shewn graphically. Moreover, there must be a continuous stream of labour poured out the moment the initial process is set in train. As an example, consider the manufacture of a passenger coach. This falls into three aspects, namely. steel work, woodwork, trimming. These again make a schema, involving considerable thought, something likes this:-
Modern Handling Appliances.
Midway gantry crane for the conveyance of wagons in the Otahuhu Workshops yard.
This is but an outline of the labour involved. The next work is to “plan” the details so that labour on Sections A, B and C can be commenced concurrently. The time involved for each operation is known, so that while the steelwork is carried on the work of preparing the trimmings is in very active preparation. In point of fact the new Rotorua “de luxe express,” the construction of which I was privileged to see last January, through the courtesy of Mr. Sampson, Workshops Manager at Otahuhu, was built on these lines. At the same time as the bodywork was proceeding apace the brass-finishers, upholsterers, and painters, were all working at the job.
Further analysis of the work indicates the use of graphs. At the end of each day the work is checked up to show a ratio of work done.
Suppose the graph for total time is 12 days, then, after eight days, approximately two-thirds of the work is, or should be, finished. The “planner,” or schedule officer, calls daily conferences. At these, each of the chief foremen shows how far his work is behind, up to, or even beyond the schedule, if this is possible. From these daily reports the schedule officer is able to advanced the work is. But it tells even more than just that. It indicates the other vital factor, namely, cost. If, for instance, the painters have completed a section of the work quicker than was expected, or even the opposite; if certain paints do not dry or “firm” as quickly as expected, then there is in the first case a saving in production costs. It shows the materials which give the best results under certain conditions. As a case in point, consider the painting of carriages. The time allotted for this was nine days. During one period, work fell behind schedule because of unusual climatic conditions, combined with a slowness of “firming” in the first coat. Such an experience will not be repeated, because the paint shop has graphs for such an events, and work can be modified accordingly.
As the work in the various shop is completed, it is assembled in the main shop on the schedule day. The need for intensive planning is here most apparent. Just as a puzzle is dependent upon its many parts for completion, so too is the work in a factory complete only when all the component parts dovetail into place on time. It is here that production costs enter the realm of” ultra-expensive,” for the inability to complete a job because of the minor fittings means the initial heavy outlay is merely adding to that mysterious “overhead”—actually a potentially interest—earning job losing money. For that reason, as the job nears completion, the schedule officer is most assiduous in his attention to Section C, where this is relevant to “real” finishing.
It must not be imagined that schedule working is merely a “fad,” as one manufacturer once told me. If the factory manager undertakes the production of a certain range of lines, he find that careful tabbing of time often bring about a reduction, in two ways. Not only does it mean a reduction in time, but more often it means a reorganisation of work. At Otahuhu it was found that the renovation of a passenger car, from the time it was lifted off the bogies till its restoration to service, was practically a nine-day working unit, which has been adopted for this type of work. It was discovered that the ideal team for the actual painting was seven, a smaller team than the previous one, while at the same time the work unit was not relatively longer.
Where Electric Travelling Cranes Do Useful Work.
A view of the wheel section of the Machine Shop, Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington.
Where repair work is undertaken, planning out schedules is even more useful, in that a continual stream of work is passing through. In shops where “timed” processes are carried out it is possible to give actual times at which “repairs” can be put on the road. This enables the works manager to regulate the intake as well as to ensure a steady working effort. the psychological effect of this letter aspect is enormous, although perhaps but dimly realised in many shops. Factory workers actually cover more by a steady effort than by long efforts alternating with comparatively long workless periods—times just “filled-in.”
Furthermore, it enables the raw material store to arrange supplies upon a more reliable basis. In the case of a small factory, where the “store” is supplying a steady demand for certain standard lines, such demand can be met with certainty because it is foreseen. Where the demand varies, where the graph for demand indicates peaks and depressions and irregular periods, “overhead” in the from of idle stores, makes production costs heavier than they ought to be.
There is, of course, another view. Where work is to be undertaken “on contract,” as in the case of oil-tanks or specialised work of a similar type, the store must work into the schedule by being in a position to the supply the necessary raw material. It is for this resaon that “stores” must not be overlooked. The foreman must have a definite knowledge of all stores at a moment's notice. Effective tabbing of stores is another noticeable feature of the Railway Shops. Withdrawals are immediately noted on a tab system, which is, thus, brought up-to-date automatically—a glance at the slip tells just what is on hand, as well as the size of the demand and its destination. This ensures a proper supervision over the “danger line.” When the store drops below a certain quantity the storeman is able to restock so that no work is held up by lack material which he can supply.
Such is, very briefly, the management of the shops. It is a tribute to them, in that they have become highly organised and very efficient. Next month I shall consider “Work Movements”—the next step in Industrial Efficiency—on a psychological basis.
A Correction.
Our attention has been drawn to a statement which occurred in the course of Mr. Dale's contribution in our March issue, concerning the provision of trains “free of cost” for the workshop employees. The statement, the publication of which was due to a printer's error, is incorrect in that the employees concerned pay the regulation fare (i.e., the privilege rates granted to all employees of the service) when travelling on the trains in question.—(Ed. “N.Z.R.M.”)
A Typical Workshops Scene.
Removing a Westinghouse brake pump by means of the storage battery crane, Hutt Valley Workshops, Wellington.
(ByTangiwai .)
A vast deal might be written on the subject of Maori place names and their meanings. You have the short and the long of it with a vengeance in native nomenclature. There are some names which consist only of two or three vowels—no consonants need apply—and there are others which would take a line of this type and carry on to the next line. Up the East Coast the other day, according to a news par., the winner in an impromptu contest for the longest Maori name was a farmer who submitted as his contribution a hill in the East Cape district called Pipiwhenuatauwhareparae.
This, of course, beats present writer's old love Te-Wharikirauponga (“The Couch of Fern Tree Fronds”). But it must give way to Te-Taumata-whakatangitangikoauau-a-Tamateapokaiwhenua (“The hill on which there was played the nose-flute of Tamatea, etc.”). That sweet thing in place designation is borne by the long-suffering hill in the Hawke's Bay back country.
On the motor road from Rotorua to famous Wairoa, the eruption-ruined village above Lake Tarawera, you drive over the north end of the narrow neck of land which separates Lakes Tikitapu and Rotokakahi, popularly known as the Blue and Green Lakes. This hilly neck is known to the old Maoris as Te Taumata-o-te-ahi-tapoai-tunua-ai-te-manawa-o-Taiapua. Old timer flautist Tamatea's hill-top wins by five letters, if my reckoning up is correct. (I get a different answer every time I struggle with a column of figures and things.) Naturally there is a story in that name, quite a dainty story, too. It tells one (as an old man of the Tuhourongi tribe explained to me) that on this spot there was a wizard's sacred fire, in which the heart of a man named Taiapua was cooked, to be eaten by his slayer. How interesting the tourist car-drivers could make that route to their passengers if they recited the names of the places they pass!—especially if they pulled up on Cannibal Hill for refreshments.
But those names and tales are a closed book to them.
The horse is still very much with us, one is glad to note, in spite of the all-pervading motor car. Otago province, according to figures quoted in Dunedin lately by the Hon. W. B. Taverner, Minister of Railways, has 56,000 horses, an increase of 13,000 since 1881. People who don't travel much in the back country, off the main roads, are perhaps inclined to imagine that the horse is on the way towards extinction. Happily this is emphatically not the case. There is so much up-and-down country in New Zealand, so much land that cannot be farmed closely or roaded and railwayed easily, that the horse will always be an economic necessity. And quite apart from that, and apart also from the sport of racing, there are a great many of us who welcome horseback as a pleasing change from the more artificial ways.
The present writer, given a good horse, would infinitely prefer that way of travelling, with its freedom and independence of road conditions, to the monotony of the car. A horse is a companion and a friend. Can you call a motor car that by any stretch of imagination?
In America, especially in the Eastern States, there has been quite a revulsion for the dominating automobile, and in some of the great wild parks riding tracks have been formed in preference to motor roads. Horseback-riding classes are becoming a fashion in some of the great cities, with the result that the breeding of good riding hacks is again a flourishing business. Years ago New Zealand sent many shipments of cavalry remounts and polo ponies to India. Australia still sends such shiploads regularly, and possibly New Zealand breeders may again find it a paying business.
A Spacious and Flourishing Provincial Town in New Zealand.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
A glimpse of Palmerston North shewing the Wellington-Auckland express passing through the station yard.
That brisk heart-of-New-Zealand town, Taumarunui, has its stories of the old frontier days that are, after all, not so very far behind us. It was as lately as the year 1880, that William Moffatt, the powder-maker and gold prospector, was shot by the King Country Maoris on the Matapuna flat, a short distance from the present site of Taumarunui town. It was a political affair, an execution carried out in pursuance of the Kingite head chief's policy to keep troublesome pakehas out of their territory. Moffatt had lived there with the Upper Wanganui Maoris in the war days. He was a clever mechanic; he assisted in the construction and working of several flour mills on the streams (the Maoris were great growers of wheat sixty years ago), and when fighting was on he was a useful man in repairing the Maori guns and in making gunpowder. It was a coarse kind of powder, but it served the purpose, and many a bullet was fired with Moffat's powder, made in a shed in a riverside village near Taumarunui. The saltpetre needed in the making thereof was brought up river from Wanganui town, ostensibly for curing bacon; the sulphur was brought from the South Taupo country.
The Government, some time in the ‘Seventies, issued a warrant for Moffatt's arrest for the illicit traffic in gunpowder, and he was captured in a most daring manner by a man who went up the river and brought him down to Wanganui. After serving a term of imprisonment, he returned to his old haunts, but by this time the Maoris had had enough of him. He was on the look-out for gold in the Tuhua country, between Taumarunui and Lake Taupo, and he was also engaged in getting native signatures for the sale or lease of land to pakehas.
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So the word went forth from Kingite headquarters at Te Kuiti that the undesirable one must be deported from Maori land, and if he persisted he must be killed. Moffatt came on from Taupo, in spite of repeated warnings to go back, and Ngatatai, the head man of Taumarunui, and six or seven of his men intercepted him at Matapuna—near where the railway line crosses the Wanganui River, and shot him dead. In the year 1883 the Government, through the Native Minister, the Hon. John Bryce, made some enquiry into the murder; the head chief of the Kingites met him at Kihikihi and frankly explained that it was carried out at their behest. Wisely, nothing more was done; Maori rights were vindicated.
If we spelled our railway names on the system, or want of system, adopted by the old-time voyagers on the coast and the early travellers into the interior, the station signs and the time-tables would present some entertainment for train passengers. Rafferty's rules in spelling and in pronunciation prevailed in the good old times. Kauri station, in North Auckland, would be “Kowdy” if we spelled it as they did the tree name in Governor Fitzroy's days. Heaven only knows what they - would have done with the full name of the place, Kauri-kohore. Kaipara was once spelled “Kiperro.” Sundry quaint old versions are still to be found on the map. There is an islet at the northern side of the entrance to the Bay of Islands which the Maori named Harakeke, the name of the flax plant. But the navigators of a century ago or more got it down as “Galakek,” and as such it is on the New Zealand maps to-day.
There are some weirdly joyful specimens in a pioneer missionary's narrative lately printed, the journal of the Rev. John Butler. This reverend gentleman sailed down the coast from the Bay of Islands to Auckland in a whale-boat in 1820. With him in the boat were the famous Samuel Marsden and other stalwarts of the mission in cannibal land. Mr. Butler recorded that on their cruise they called in at Wangahmoomoo, Wangahdoodoo, Wanahnackee, Me Mee Wangahootoo, Mattah Podee, Too Too Kah Kah, and various other places. Some of them certainly are comics in phonetics, but when you come to pronounce them you will have little difficulty in recognising our whaling station bay Whangamumu, and our old friends Whangaruru, Whananaki, Mimiwhangata, Matapouri, and Tutukaka. The old-timers seem to have disliked the “r's,” they turned most of them into “d's.” We may faintly imagine how strenuously they would have wrestled with Paraparaumu and Paekakariki. How would they look on the station name-boards? Say Paddy-paddy-oomoo and Pye Kahkah-Deeky!
Eastertide in New Zealand.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A holiday scene at Auckland station, New Zealand.
The History of the Christchurch-Lyttelton Railway
How the Early Settlers Solved a Big Transport Problem.
Canterbury was the first of the Provinces of New Zealand to construct and operate railways, the compelling factor which initiated this enterprise of the early settlers being the urgent need for establishing suitable communication between the port and the plains. An ex railway official has kindly favoured us with the following historical account of the interesting facts bearing upon the establishment of this communication by rail, and we have pleasure in publishing them for the benefit of our readers.
The story of the settlement of Canterbury Province and of New Zealand's first railway enterprise—the establishment of communication between Port Lyttelton and the Canterbury Plains–is a story of pioneer triumph over great natural obstacles, constituting one of the most romantic and interesting chapters of our history.
The genesis of the colonising effort so far as Canterbury Province is concerned centres in the organisation, in England, towards the middle of last century, of the Canterbury Association. This Association was organised for the purpose of founding a settlement in New Zealand. The Association appointed, as Chief Surveyor, Captain Joseph Thomas (who had previously been in the colony and knew something of its geography), and directed him to proceed to New Zealand, decide upon the site of the settlement, and make preparation for the reception of the settlers. On arrival in Canterbury he considered several suggested sites, and chose the Port Cooper Plains, as North Canterbury was then called.
The Association acquired from the New Zealand Company an area of land, approximately two and a half million acres in extent, between the Ashburton and Waipara Rivers. In reporting upon the suitability for settlement of the Port Cooper Plains, one of the New Zealand Company's surveyors (Mr. H. J. Cridland) showed the advantages of the locality in comparison with earlier settlements elsewhere in New Zealand. In effect his report was: “No natives; no floods; no bush to cut down; a port easy of access.” Though the port was easy of access from the sea, it was by no means easy of access from the land side. Captain Thomas made a landing place at the present town of Lyttelton, and constructed, from there, a bridle path over the hills to Heathcote Valley. As this route was not suitable for wheeled traffic, he also laid out a road over Evans Pass to Sumner. Some progress had been made on this road when the principal Resident Agent of the Association (Mr. J. R. Godley) arrived at Port Cooper some months in advance of the main body of settlers. Mr. Godley, finding the available funds of the Association were exhausted, suspended further operations.
The first party of the settlers of the Association arrived in December, 1850. To reach the Plains they had to walk over the bridle path and send their baggage and stores round by sea to Sumner, and thence by boats up the Avon and Heathcote rivers. Naturally, the question of means of communication received their early attention. A meeting of land purchasers was held in 1851, and at this meeting the construction of a tunnel through the hill was mentioned, but the work was considered to be beyond the resources of the settlers. The meeting also considered a proposal to raise a loan to complete the Sumner road, but failed, too, to reach any definite conclusion on this matter.
In June, 1852, the Imperial Government passed an Act to grant Representative Constitution to the Colony of New Zealand. On advice
Mr. James Edward Fitzgerald was chosen as the first Superintendent of Canterbury, and the first meeting of the Canterbury Provincial Council was opened on 27th September, 1853. This meeting was of a preliminary character for the establishment of the Provincial Government, and terminated on 24th November.
The Council met again on 15th February, 1854, and during the session passed the Lyttelton and Christchurch Road Ordinance, which provided for the appointment of a Commission of five engineers and surveyors to report as to the best line of communication. The Commissioners were: Messrs. W. B. Bray (chairman), H. J. Cridland, E. Dobson, R. J. S. Hanman, and E. Jollie. Their report, dated 21st March, 1854, was of a comprehensive character. It stated that four modes of communication between the seaport and the interior had been under consideration, viz:–
(1) Construction of a harbour at the Estuary of the Avon and Heathcote Rivers; (2) an open road over the hills which surround Port Victoria (the name of the harbour had been changed from Port Cooper to Port Victoria); (3) a road through these same hills by means of a tunnel; (4) a railway through the same hills by the same means.
The first of these proposals was rejected.
The second dealt with four proposed lines, of which the Sumner Road, as already laid out, was considered to offer the best transport possibilities.
As the Pioneers Visualised It.
Plan of the proposed Lyttelton terminus of the Lyttelton and Christchurch Railway.
The third showed only two lines worthy of consideration. One, a tunnel, 600 yards in length, from the head of the gully descending into Dampier's Bay, to the western slope of the Bridle Path Valley; the other, a tunnel 350 yards in length at 200ft. below the summit of Evans Pass, on the Sumner Road. The first, though the shorter route, was rejected on account of the length of the tunnel and the unsatisfactory nature of the ground to be traversed. The Commission estimated the cost of a road of easy grade from Lyttelton to the Heathcote Ferry, including a bridge over the Heathcote, at £25,731 by the second route. If adequate labour were available this road could be completed in eighteen months.
Dealing with the fourth mode of communication (a railway), two proposals were considered, viz:—(1) A line from a deep-water jetty in Gollan's Bay, passing through a tunnel three-quarters of a mile in length, to the Sumner Valley, then by another tunnel 660 yards long through the cliffs at Sumner, thence along the line of the Sumner Road to the Heathcote Ferry. To avoid crossing the navigable portion of the Heathcote River, the proposed line would turn south, and cross the Heathcote at Dr. Earle's section (now Opawa). (2) A direct line commencing at about the Custom House in Lyttelton, passing under the hills by a tunnel 1 1/2 miles long to Heathcote Valley, and ending at the town reserve in Christchurch. This line would be 6 1/4 miles in length, and it was estimated, would cost £155,356, and require four years for completion.
An Historic Day in Canterbury'S History.
The opening of the first railway in New Zealand (Christchurch to Ferrymead—gauge 5ft. 3in.), at Christchurch, Canterbury Province, 1st December, 1863.
The Commission then reviewed the situation, and concluded that it must be left to the Provincial Government to decide whether a road or a railway was best suited to the needs and circumstances of the community. Should the Government consider the railway too costly an undertaking, then the Commission recommended the completion of the Sumner Road by a tunnel through Evans Pass, and the improvement of the Sumner bar by filling in the rocks at the entrance. (It was recognised that the heavy traffic would not be carted over the hill.)
Referring to the working costs and capacity of the proposed railway, the Commission gave the following figures:—Passenger trains in England are run at a cost of 3/- per mile. Allowing double that cost here, the expense of running six and a quarter miles would not exceed 40/-, but the engine would be capable of taking, in addition to one carriage seating 18 passengers, five or six wagons of merchandise, say 18 tons, or in six journeys 108 passengers and 108 tons of goods at a cost of £12. This considerably exceeded the present needs of the settlement. Goods landed and shipped at Christ-church Quay from 1st April, 1853 to 1st April, 1854, did not exceed 2,200 tons, or about seven tons per day. Even this, at 10/- per ton, and 34 passengers each way at 2/6 would defray the expenses of working the railway; but before the line would be opened the quantity of wool would be doubled, likewise agricultural produce in even greater ratio; and this traffic would continue to increase with the progress of the Colony. The fact that the railway was in progress might bring capital from Australia for the purchase of land, and place at disposal funds more than sufficient to liquidate the cost of the railway.
The Provincial Council was prorogued on 12th April, 1854, in order that the Superintendent and other members of the General Assembly might attend the sitting at Auckland. The Superintendent, in his closing address to the Council, stated that there was no necessity for an immediate decision on the report of the Commission, as the plans suggested were of so important a character, involving so large an expenditure of public money, and so closely affecting private as well as public interests, that it was right to postpone any final decision until the public had had ample opportunity of discussing the various plans and expressing an opinion thereon. After the meeting of the General Assembly, the Council would be asked to attend again in order to deal with the question.
Meantime, the Superintendent advised the Chairman of the Commission that he was not inclined to spend money on the Sumner bar, or on the railway from Gollan's Bay; in the first place because the filling in of the rocks would not divert the danger of the overfalling sea outside the rocks (which was the real cause of the navigation of the channel being so frequently closed), and in the second place, because if a railway to a deep sea jetty were desirable, the railway through Lyttelton would still be the shortest line of communication therewith, and the value of Lyttelton property would not be injured. The position reduced itself to the question of a railway under the Bridle Path hill, or a road. Without expressing any opinion on the merits of the proposals he considered the railway should not be started if the existing means of communication could not be improved for five years, pending completion of the tunnel. It was therefore requested that particular attention be given to the question of opening some temporary, but efficient means of communication. Mr. Bray was asked to report upon a suggestion that the railway be completed from Christchurch to Martin's (Heathcote Valley), and on the provision of a temporary tramway (to be worked by a fixed engine on top of the hill) to give communication with Lyttelton.
Mr. Bray reported that the tramway proposal was feasible. He estimated the cost of the railway at £37,300, and of the tramway at £6,734. The power for the tramway was to be provided by a powerful gin, worked by bullocks on the top of the hill, with a wire haulage rope on each side. He proposed that the line be double from the terminals, so as to allow the ascending and descending wagons to pass each other. He pointed out that owing to the steepness of the grade the work would be very slow. It would take about 1 1/4 hours to move a wagon containing one ton from Norwich Quay (Lyttelton) to Martin's (Heathcote Valley). The capacity of the tramway would be 10 or 12 tons a day. Because of the time of the journey and the risk of accident the tramway would be ill adapted for passengers. Assuming wages to be at the rate of 5/- per day, and using four bullocks, the working expenses would be £5 per day. The traffic in view would fall considerably short of 10 tons per day, so that high rates would be necessary to meet the working expenses.
(To be continued.)
A Fine Example of New Zealand Railways Publicity Work.
A recent display in the window of Messrs. Hallenstein Bros., Christchurch.
Interesting Comparisons
British and New Zealand Railways.
The following are some extracts from a letter sent by Mr. T. Blades (who, until recently, was one of the permanent drivers of the world-famed British Express, the “Flying Scotsman”) to Mr. H. F. O. Twigden, of Auckland.
Mr. Blades has only just retired, after 50 years service on the railways. He was on the footplate when the last record for the “Flying Scotsman” was put up.
Gateshead-on-Tyne.
“I received the New Zealand Railways Magazines quite safely, and they are certainly very interesting to my family and other friends.
“I note the suggested introduction of steel sleeping cars. Our railways are now fitting sleepers in the third class compartments, and I believe they are proving very successful, there seems to be a move to dispense with the first class altogether. Our road buses for long distance traffic also provide sleepers, and refreshments can be obtained on the journey. They are certainly giving the railway companies food for serious thought, yet I am of the opinion that, in the long run, the companies will more than hold their own. As for steady riding, speed and comfort, there is no comparison. For instance, the railways complete the journey from London to Newcastle in 5 1/2 hours—267 miles with four stops. The buses usually occupy 12 hours and upwards—a great deal of difference to people on important business.
“Your New Zealand sleeping cars seem quite up-to-date, and I don't think we have anything here to beat them, yet they are very similar. I hope they will prove their worth.
“We were at one time greatly troubled with dust when the ash ballast was in use. It is now all slag ballast, and there is practically no dust, and the permanent way is not affected so much when there are heavy rains, as the water filters through.
“I see you rather mourn the fact that your engines are not being painted in colours. In that also you are quite up-to-date. Our companies used to spend a great deal of money on paint; now all goods and mineral engines are being painted in black. This no doubt, is a great saving as they are very seldom cleaned except when under repairs.”
Wellington Public Libraries.
Railway Yachtsmen Win the Sanders Cup.
The Sanders Cup contest, held recently on Auckland Harbour, resulted in a “well deserved victory” for the railway yachtsmen who participated. The coveted Cup and miniature, won by the Otago boat “Eileen” (Skipper Mr. Geo. Kellett, machinist. Maintenance Shops, Dunedin), was presented before a happy gathering of yachtsmen, to the Hon. J. T. Paul (representing the Otago Yacht and Motor Boat Association), by His Worship the Mayor of Auckland, Mr. Geo. Baildon. The illustrations shew: Top (right), “Eileen;” (left) “Avalon,” (second place—Skipper Mr. J. Patrick, enginedriver, Auckland); (centre), the winning crew of the “Eileen”—left to right: Messrs. A. E. Dawson, Geo. Kellett, J. F. Robertson, and S. A. Gibson—the three latter are railway employees; (below), the skipper of the “Avalon” congratulates the skipper of the “Eileen” on his victory.
Told byLeo Fanning
Domination! Most of us condemn it, but have not most of us a yearning for it? The admiration of Napoleon and other great conquerors is largely based on their power to dominate. How can we best achieve our more or less secret ideal? Some persons promise to transform the domineered into the domineering in a dozen lessons or so of a correspondence course.
* * *
If you look up the word angel in a large dictionary you will see that it is arranged in nine orders, which—from the highest to the lowest—are: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominations, or Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, or Princedoms, Archangels, Angels. I forget now whether Lucifer was originally in a class above the Dominations, but he had the Domination temperament, which he retained in his damnation, according to Milton, who makes the lost angel say: “Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.” Since Lucifer's fall many ambitious men have found damnation in their abuse of domination.
* * *
Some say that the best basis of domination is “Beef and Biff.” That was the belief of New Zealand's Tom Heeney, who tried for the mastery of Gene Tunney in the boxing ring. But Tunney knew that brain had to help brawn to get a pugilistic domination. It is stated that he took up boxing, not from any inborn love of the sport, but as a side-line of business, in which keen, careful study could help his hardy body to make big money. His domination was one of cold science, and when he had won enough cash he wisely chose a more comfortable way of life. He had no further eagerness for the lime-light and hero-worship of the ring.
* * *
Public opinion is the strongest force of domination in British countries to-day. In one of his essays, Gilbert Chesterton mentions that a certain type of person, under the domination of his greed of wealth, might sell his mother, or even his soul, for money, but in broad daylight, in a public street, he would not wear his trousers back to front for money. Why? He fears public opinion.
* * *
Some critics say that man has long been under domination by woman in the United States of America, and they say that woman is gaining a similar subtle dictatorship in British countries. If that is true, man has at least the comfort that woman herself is under the domination of fashion. She has cast aside old fashions, but the power of the new modes is just as strong as the tyranny of the old-time styles. So all skirts are more or less the same skirt, all hats the same hat, all stockings the same stockings.
* * *
Tootles, who is under the firm domination of his wife, has a fervent eagerness to reverse the roles. He has read up all the stuff that he can find on the alleged power of the human eye to dominate lions and tigers; he goes to any circus which has these beasts obeying a tamer. He has tried two or three stern stares at his wife, but as the chief result on each occasion was a black eye for himself, his hope of domination is not as rosy as it was. He forgets that the eye-power is no good unless it is projected from a strong personality. Otherwise it is like a lantern that lacks a light, or a bark unbacked by a bite.
Very few women have the courage to break away conspicuously from a standard style. Men, of course, are the same, even to the fashions of hair-cutting and shaving, and the fear of the third lighting of a cigarette with the same match.
* * *
Not often nowadays is the phrase, “The Fourth Estate” applied to the Press. It always was unworthy of the journalist's importance in world affairs, and to-day, of course, it would be almost an impertinence—it certainly would be an absurdity—to place the Press fourth. Sceptres are scarce in the world now, but pens are plentiful. The pen is the real sceptre of democracy.
* * *
An old almanac has some pictures of various men, with appropriate wording. Below a soldier was the line: “I fight for all.” A parson was linked with the words “I pray for all.” And finally came the farmer, saying: “I pay for all.” The statement was not wholly true, but it served its purpose. A reprint of that sheet today should have a journalist following the parson, and ejaculating: “I think for all.” Not strictly true, perhaps, but near enough. In this age of specialisation, the journalist's job is to think for all—if he can. He is certainly expected to think, for in the public view of the fitness of things the inky way is the thinky way, leading one knows not whither. “Send for the Press” has taken precedence of “Send for the Police,” as the first principle in democracy. Only one power can save democracy from itself—the force of the Press (unless a Mussolini happens to be handy).
In one form or another journalism has always been in existence, although in olden times the journalists were speakers and singers rather than writers—itinerant story-tellers, troubadours, village gossips, town-criers. Cicero was a journalist of a type who would have delighted an ancient Northcliffe. Julius Caesar was also a journalist with a less yellow style, and Napoleon's genius was as much shown in his journalism as in his havoc of war and play of love.
“Right Away!” for New Zealand's Thermal Wonderland.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
Mr. H. S. Robinson driver of the new “Rotorua Limited Express.”
* * *
“All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” said the philosophic Jaques in “As You Like It.” If journalism had been as well developed in Shakespeare's time as it is to-day he might have made his Jaques add, after players, a poetical equivalent of: “except the journalists, who are stage-carpenters.”
* * *
The journalist is the most public man in the community, and yet the least public. All his days he is of the public, to or for the public, but the public knows him not, for his work is mainly anonymous. Dispenser of publicity, he stays out of the public eye. The fame of the architect, the engineer, the lawyer, the medical man, can grow—often quickly—among the public, but the merit of a clever anonymous journalist is usually known only to a few outside the circles of his own profession.
* * *
We all begin life as interesting conversationalists, if not brilliant ones. Is there anything more enchanting than the chatter of toddlers? How direct they are! They do not beat about the bush. They get into the bush, and see a fairyland there. Their talk reaches into the heart of things—real insight into a real world (not a phantasmal nothingness of gog-eyed science).
At both Ohinemutu and Whakarewarewa you will meet the descendents of those doughty sea-rovers who crossed the Pacific in the famous Arawa canoe during the main Maori migration of 1350. They are splendid representatives of a proud and noble race, which is foremost among native peoples throughout the world.
Ohinemutu, which lies close to the north-western shore of Lake Rotorua, was founded, about five hundred years ago, by the Chief Ihenga, grandson of the leader of the Arawa Canoe. Since that day his descendents, known as the Ngati-Whakane branch of the Arawa tribe, have pursued a very pleasant existence, enjoying the good things of life without that toil and anxiety which ever follows in the wake of the white man. In the lake they found an abundance of indigenous fish; they had a climate never very cold and often luxuriously pleasant; and bubbling up at their own back doors have always been the perennial hot pools, serving the triple purposes of baths, cooking pots, and washing coppers. The cessation of inter-tribal conflicts and the coming of the white tourist introduced new elements of peace and comfort, while producing little change either in the picturesqueness of the inhabitants or the even tenor of their ways. Truly, more recent years have added many superficial modern touches, particularly to the younger Maoris, but the atmosphere of old times still persists strongly. Indeed, the Government is exerting itself to preserve in both this and the Whakare-warewa village all the essential characteristics of the typical Maori village, so far as that is consistent with modern needs in sanitation and convenience.
The main part of the Ohinemutu village faces the lake, some of it extends a few hundred yards inland over a slight rise. Naturally, the outstanding feature of interest to the visitor is the thermal activity. It is not spectacular, but eerie. Everywhere they bubble up, those fussy, energetic pools which you eye respectfully, but dare not touch. In the lake itself a tiny area close in shore steams and hisses furiously, while only a few yards further on, the water lies quiet and cool. At all points take care where you place your feet; you may be treading on solid ground, or you may blissfully be suspending yourself over the mouth of an inferno. Ordinarily, however, there is little danger to fear.
The centre of interest lies close to the lake end of the village. Here, around a large open space, are clustered several buildings of exceptional interest. The most outstanding of them is the Maori meeting house, a building of broad dimensions and a fine specimen of Maori architecture and carving. Close by it is a smaller building, finished like a pa at the front, but otherwise entirely European in style. To this place you must pay a visit, for, fascinating as you will find Ohinemutu in other respects, you have here an attraction unique and unparalleled in the Dominion, since it is the home of the only institution in the country devoted to the active encouragement of Maori Arts and Crafts. It is under the general control of a Board of that name, and is directed by a man whom it is a joy to meet, namely, Mr. Hamilton, whose father's monumental studies of Maori art in every shape and form are regarded as one of our national treasures.
During my last visit, I had a long chat with Mr. Hamilton, and spent some time in wandering around the workshop. In 1926, largely owing to the efforts of
At the time of my visit Mr. Hamilton was working with a staff of about eight. They were all busily engaged doing the complete carving for a new and important pa to be erected in the Gisborne district. When I first entered I was astonished at the air of industry in the place. Every single man was working as if his very life depended on each stroke of the chisel. You could see the perspiration flowing off their faces. It was their evident enjoyment of the work that struck me even more forcibly than their display of energy. The explanation is interesting. In the first place their livelihood does not depend on the work. Sometimes a man approaches Mr. Hamilton in a slack period. “Oh, what chances of a job, boss?” “Nothing doing now, but you can come back in three weeks' time.” Away goes the Maori grinning cheerfully, returns faithfully in three weeks' time, and just as cheerfully departs again if he is not wanted. There is no need to worry for, in the meantime, he can attend to his little plot of ground or live on the communal resources. And when the work does come, he tackles it with an enthusiasm that Mr. Hamilton finds positively embarrassing. For example, the men pleaded with him to start work at six o'clock in the morning. Finally, he had to meet them half-way by commencing at seven. Again, on the day after New Year's Day, usually a holiday, they elected to work. They love their work, and do it very much for its own sake, since the desire to create something, to achieve some artistic effect, is an impulse deeply rooted in the Maori mentality. Perhaps I should drop one hint in case you should visit here in the near future: One or two of the present staff are of gigantic bodily size, and they are extremely self-conscious and sensitive about it. Mr. Hamilton himself is a person apart. From a life-long association with the Maoris, he is intimately versed in their ways and outlook, and impresses the observer as being more of a foster-father than a boss. Here, in a quiet way and in a quiet place, and with unbounded capacity and enthusiasm, he is pioneering a work for which the whole Maori race will have reason to thank him.
“The sunny scenery's strange extremes”.—Alfred Domett.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
The village of Ohinemutu, shewing the Maori Church (famed for its exquisite Maori carvings), and Lake Rotorua in the background.
The third interesting building is the Maori Church, which stands at the other end of the open space. The carvings in the church are exquisitely done, and near the vestry are suspended the historic, tattered flags, which were carried by the loyal Arawas during the Maori wars and afterwards presented to the Church. On either side of the entrance, too, are interesting reminders of the past in the shape of hand-some tombstones and monuments erected to the memory of distinguished chiefs whose records, unfortunately for the curiosity of the
Dispense with all its special attractions and Ohinemutu is still a place where you can spend many a pleasant hour. It is delightful merely to wander in and out aimlessly among the narrow streets of the village. Here you will encounter little fellows of three and four and upwards who will clamour loudly to honour you with a haka so that you may reward them with a penny. Such a haka, too—what they lack in skill they make up for in gusto, conscientiously determined to give you your “penn'orth.” Perhaps, further along, you will meet one of the old wahines. She smokes her pipe contentedly. She stops when you come up to her, and, giving you a hearty “Tenakoi,” shakes hands quite vigorously, and says a number of things in Maori which you know from her broad smiles must be some friendly message. The wonderfully happy spirit of camaraderie which the Maoris show to everybody alike is their most delightful characteristic, which we are able to appreciate the more keenly because of our natural aloofness.
“Now good digestion wait an appetite, and heath on both.”—Shakespeare.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
Maoris cooking in a hot pool, Rotorua, New Zealand.
So we leave Ohinemutu. though we have touched only on the fringe of its inexhaustible charms.
Whakarewarewa.
Erection of Model Village Proposed.
Whakarewarewa lies in a valley at some distance from the lake, and one and a half miles from the town. Every other attraction is, of course, entirely overshadowed by the thermal activity, which is much more intense and spectacular than that at Ohinemutu. The village itself is a collection of huts and small houses all thrown irregularly and close together on a narrow area. To the right, as you enter, is a native reserve, a comparatively small section. Here there are a number of boiling pools, some of them too deep to fathom. There is also one large pool where the village youngsters may have their cleansing bath as often as they please without mother having to turn on the caliphont or father lighting up the copper. Much of the village cooking and washing is also done here; there are even several houses scattered around almost on the brinks of the pools. To live on this thin crust of ground, which shakes and trembles and might at any time blow up altogether. seems absolutely foolhardy, yet the Maoris have been born and bred to it, and hence feel no concern. There is, however, the real danger of tuberculosis, for which the continual warm, moist, unhealthy atmosphere provides an ideal breeding ground. This was one of the reasons which prompted the Government to set up a Commission in 1926 to investigate among other matters the desirability of demolishing the present village and reconstructing it along model lines some distance up the adjoining hill. A new road was put in hand some time ago, but nothing else has been done owing largely to lack of finance and the difficulty of concluding negotiations.
The Whakarewarewa geyserland is too well known to justify much description here. Only two of the geysers now give a spectacular display, and that at intervals. These are the “Prince of Wales's Feathers” and “Pohutu.” I was one of a fortunate few to see them play on a misty afternoon in the middle of January. Both were shooting up side by side to a distance of some thirty or forty feet. making an awe-inspiring sight not to be forgotten. Later on I saw them asleep. Quiet, gentle pools they were then, with clear, innocent-looking depths and only a wisp or two of steam to suggest their hidden terrors. Without these star attractions, there are many other sights of absorbing interest. There are, as Sir William Fox once vividly described them, “repulsive looking mud volcanoes boiling in a sluggish and laborious manner like very thick soup. They look like the natural home of a family of huge ugly bullfrogs who, were it not for the heat, would doubtless have been placed there by Nature to sprawl and croak and enjoy their slimy life.” There are, too, boiling and cold streams running side by side, and on top of the hill a complete model
pa, about which, and everything else of interest. the guide will give you a store of information for the modest fee of one shilling. Upwards of one hundred guides do duty at Whakarewarewa. yet so great is the demand for their services that few of them are long idle. Some have lost the charm and grace of youth, some are only young girls; but they all have the reputation of being delightful companions and of taking pains to show and explain to the Pakeha all that is worth seeing.
Perhaps, without doing injustice to the others. it is possible to mention one who is an outstanding figure among them all—that is, the Guide Rangi. In the middle thirties, she has a slim. youthful appearance and a wonderfully engaging manner. All the distinguished people who visit Whakarewarewa invariably select her as guide. She has conducted a prince, famous statesmen, bishops, business magnates of world reputations, sporting celebrities, distinguished soldiers and sailors, and lords and ladies without number. When she has finished showing them the sights, she then takes them to her meeting-house nearby, entertains them with selections from a very complete repertoire of Maori records, and delights them with clever anecdotes, which she tells in a way that holds them spellbound. Though not a Chieftain's daughter, Rangi carries herself with regal air. and there are probably few women in any country who entertain in one year so many world-famous people, and the charm of whose personality has spread so far.
“The wistful boat skims eagerly”.—W. P. Reeves.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
Maoris in their historic canoes on Lake Rotorua.
Conducted bySheila G. Marshall
It is strange, perhaps, but I cannot pass No. 4 without thinking of my old friend Hargreaves. Not that he ever actually lived there, far from it, but because an incident, which robbed me of the friend of my youth and the girl I loved, occurred within those prosaic walls.
This afternoon I was walking along the avenue in the late Autumn sunshine, and, as usual, I glanced up at the windows of No. 4. A bright chintz curtain hung in Monica's old bedroom—I hated its gaudy happiness. The house seemed smiling, and gave out an atmosphere of healthy middle-class prosperity and cheer. To me it will always be a glaring conspicuous affront—a mockery of what might have been. My thoughts drift back to July, 1914—that ominous month when we laughed and talked carelessly—unconscious of the sword above our thoughtless heads. I will tell you what happened at No. 4.
To begin with, Jack Hargreaves and I were great pals; we had munched peanuts together in a dingy fourth form room, played together for the school at Rugger, “swotted” together for our degrees. There was a bond between us which it seemed impossible to break—although I never really understood him. He was a queer reticent fellow—son of an Anglo-Indian colonel and a French mother, from whom he inherited a great love of the beautiful in all things—a passionate temper and a hopeless lack of British common sense. Old Jack was an unorthodox soul in those days, always wrapped in thought (of what no one on earth knew). In fact, he had a tendency to write rather good poetry, although his reticence on this subject was extreme. He had also a great hatred of noise, amounting almost to a morbid dread.
His father and mine had determined that we should be soldiers, and we accepted their decisions while still in our early teens, although in different ways, according to our vastly different temperaments. I am a very ordinary fellow, and saw nothing in the life of a soldier save a certain amount of excitement, a chance to see other lands, and a very vague idea of fighting for my country.
Jack Hargreaves at seventeen was immersed in Byron, talked of Greece till we threw books at him—and dreamt his romantic dreams unknown to us. To him, a soldier was a man set apart by God, a man obeying a high and noble call. I might mention here that once he confessed to me he could not bear the sight of blood—the sight of a fellow cut about on the football field at school had made him physically ill—and suddenly he had renounced football completely, although he was the best back we had. I am ashamed now to own that I had called him a coward, as most people would. We did not understand the fellow at all, he often showed extreme and reckless courage, yet he was afraid of blood. I suppose it was one of those peculiar “phobias” which psychologists stress so much to-day.
However, we went up to Sandhurst together in 1912, both very young, very fit, and seemingly very keen to master the details of our profession. Jack's father expected great things
from him—the son of a colonel—and I think he was quite happy then, drilling, riding, and marching under the English sun in a happy and peaceful England. He seemed to have forgotten, or grown out of, his boyish fears and horror of noise. I thought he had read too much at school, and that a life of intense physical activity was what he needed to counteract an over-thoughtful mind and an ingrained tendency to dream.
At the end of 1912, Hargreaves and I fell in love with the same girl, each in our own characteristic way. Her name was Monica Lissington, and she lived at No. 4, the house I was looking at this afternoon; eighteen years since she used to talk to us on the front steps in the twilight.
I was the usual lover—tongue-tied and adoring—very obviously badly smitten. I even used to dream of a fireside in a lovely English cottage, with Monica, although I was most practical and unromantic—a phlegmatic Englishman.
Jack, on the other hand, behaved like a Spaniard or a mediaeval knight. He talked brilliantly to Monica, who, being a very English, lovely orthodox girl, it must be confessed, scarcely understood him. Sometimes I was amazed at his eloquence, when we sat there on the steps of No. 4. He would point into the twilight as though he saw visions there unknown to us; his voice was tremulous and eager; his young face on fire with enthusiasm. Once he even read his poems to her. Some of them were addressed to her, words which no girl could resist. We used to go to dances together, Jack, Monica and I. Sometimes he would be strange and silent, disappear for two or three days, with no explanations, ignore her very existence. I believe that Monica loved him even then, although she seemed torn between us. For her I represented comfort, companionship, security and common-sense—all qualities which she was English enough to appreciate—while Jack spoke of things unknown, of romance, mystery, genius. Also, he was extremely good looking, in a moody rather foreign way, whereas I had sandy hair, a snub nose and green eyes. My readers will easily understand that Monica inclined towards my chum and rival. The idea of Hargreaves as a husband was inconceivable to me, who knew him better than anyone else. He simply wasn't destined for an ordinary life—one of the wanderers and the pieces of drift wood. A lovable brilliant, tempestuous genius—something like his hero, Lord Byron. The year 1914 dawned. and affairs were somewhat involved.
I loved them both very dearly. I knew that Jack could not possibly make her happy, that she would never be able to understand him; that he would probably grow tired of her; also, that he wanted her at the moment more than anything else on earth. She liked me tremendously; knew that I would always stick to her; that she could jump on me if she had wanted to —could talk to me as a friend. But I think she loved Jack. Anyhow for us both she meant everything in the world. The situations was decidedly awkward. Then came the war.
We had dined at No. 4— Monica, Jack and I. He had been at his best that night—brilliant, amusing, and simply radiating his inimitable charm, which no one could resist. A ring on the telephone for me, and the voice of a Sandhurst pal, “Have you heard the great news, old boy? War with Germany!” “Hurrah!” shouted I—foolish, innocent young ass.
I rushed into the dining room, stirred from my phlegmatic calm.
“Jack, Monica—war!” I blurted out. “Old boy, our chance has come!” He seized my hand, his face glowing. We turned to Monica, standing dazed by the fireplace.
“Jack,” was all she could answer—adoration in her blue eyes. Then she turned to me— “Dick, I'll knit you some warm socks at once, you know how cold your feet get in the winter!”
It was typical. I smiled my thanks, but would have given worlds for the look which she had given Jack.
Four months later we are again in the dining-room of No. 4—in full uniform, off for France the next day. I will never forget the scene—the three of us at dinner. A great deal of laughter and talk—Jack looking superb in khaki. His face suddenly struck me as being rather strained; thinner than a month ago, lines of nerve strain round the eyes, and a persistent twitching of the lips, which I had noticed lately. “He's living at too high a pitch,” I thought, “and he hasn't the sense to take care of himself,”
After dinner we went to the theatre. Jack became rather moody and silent, and I felt anything but cheerful. Of course I was awfully keen to go “out there,” but Monica looked so
However, he seemed suddenly to cheer up. “Bye-bye, Monica,” he said gaily, with his heart in his eyes. “I'll be back with the jolly old V.C. soon! Cheerio, dearest,” he whispered, and with with a bound was down the steps and gone in the darkness. He had always had a sense of the dramatic.
“Jack! Jack! Don't go yet,” called Monica desperately, but her words were swallowed up in the darkness. “Take care of him for me, old thing,” she whispered to me. “You know that I love him?”
I nodded dumbly — “That if anything happened to him it would break my heart.” I knew then that Jack had never spoken, out of loyalty to me. I promised to take care of him and bring him back to her. She kissed me, and called me a “darling old boy,” and was gone.
The story is told. No. 4 still stands there; the war is thing of the past. It sounds incredible, but I never saw jack Hargreaves again; but I have a letter which I will always keep, as a memory of a proud and brave man.
He simply never appeared next day—vanished off the face of the earth in London, 1914. I went to France. One day I received a note, in his familiar scrawl. “I am in Constantinople,” it said: “I couldn't do it, Dick. Don't think too hardly of me. I should merely have gone mad trying not to show that I was a coward. Look after Monica always. Yours, Jack.”
I heard the other day that he had died somewhere in Australia, down in a mine, trying to save a collier when a shaft had collapsed. “Conspicuous bravery,” said the newspaper. Poor old Jack.
This winter there is to be a great revival in the dancing world—a reversion to the quaint old dances of bygone days, so different from the modern hectic whirl of “heebie - jeebies,” “Charleston” and saxophone. There is fashion in dancing as in all things, and its recent phase has been inevitable, because it is in dancing that man expresses his mood of the moment.
I have heard everywhere that new things are approaching, or old things being revived under an altered mein. Even last season the popularity of the waltz was growing, and that of foxtrot waning. This winter it will be even more apparent.
The new dance frocks, with their billowing fluffiness were not destined, obviously, for the Charleston! They are grace and dignity itself, and suitable for the swaying, dreamy movement of the waltz, with its atmosphere of Vienna before the war, of Court Balls and delicious haunting melody.
It would be great fun, this year, to institute an “Old Time” if you are thinking of celebrating a twenty-first birthday, a wedding, or any other excuse for a party. Of course the days of chaperones cannot be recalled, and we will have to abandon several of the quaint but rather boring customs of the days of Victoria. But there is a great charm which we can give to our dances, if we delve long enough among the lavender and old lace of the past.
We can take from it just the atmosphere we want, and discard what is cumbersome and useless. Let us hail the waltz to our ballrooms, and it would be great fun to “tread a measure” in 1930 to the time honoured tunes of the “Lancers,” the quadrille, and Sir Roger. Perhaps we could even (with a little practice, and surely with not so much effort as was required to master the eccentricities of the Charleston!) revive the stately minuet, minus the powder and patches, but not necessarily bereft of charm. It is rather difficult to picture the modern youth in his prosaic evening dress executing a courtly and cavalier bow over his lady's hand, but it is not impossible nor yet improbable.
We have not succumbed completely to the wiles of jazz; in fact some of us are rather tired of it, and are anticipating new things this winter. I have even heard it whispered that fans are to be an essential part of the dance dress, and will be once more employed for the rapping of knuckles and the screening of bashful faces—if such things exist. Dame Fashion is capricious, and we are her slaves.
“Thine are the hours and days When both are cheering and innocent!”—Byron.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
A Maori child in a hot pool, Rotorua, New Zealand.
Quarter pound minced walnuts, one-third cup milk, quarter cup castor sugar, one egg yolk. Mix egg and sugar, add milk, stir over boiling water in a double boiler till mixture thickens; then add vanilla and minced walnuts. This is a delicious filling for sponges, and for the tops of small cakes.
Instead of using cloths, whiting, etc., sprinkle a little liquid brass polish on a rag (after the dust has been removed), and rub over the glass surface. Allow to dry, then wipe off with a soft dry duster. The result will be brilliant polish which not only lasts a long time but keeps those pernicious flies from “settling.”
It is a foolish thing to be miserable beforehand, for fear of misery to come; for a man loses the present which he might enjoy in expectation of the future.—Seneca.
“Quest,” the versatile writer in the “N.Z. Sportsman,” gives his impressions of a recent excursion from Wellington to Masterton (Wairarapa) as follows:—
“Last Sunday's excursionists by rail had their enterprise rewarded. They were cheery optimists, every one of them: and their optimism struck a responsive chord in the warm heart of Mother Nature, for she stayed the fall of rain and caused the sun to shine in all its warmth and brightness. A gloomy depressing day in Wellington gave place to a perfect summer day in Masterton. Those who stayed in the city lost a glorious day in the delightful Wairarapa capital.
“These into-the-country trips by rail at low fares are a priceless boon to city folk. They are safe, comfortable. economical, restful, sociable, pleasurable. The run to Masterton last Sunday occupied about 3 1/2 hours, followed by a stay of nearly five hours in one of the most attractive, English-like towns in the Dominion. Its river, the Ruamahanga, is Anglican, too, and reminds one of dear old Father Thames near Kingston. And the pretty Queen's Park, with its deciduous trees of English origin—oaks, elms, and sycamores—looked like a slice of Surrey transplanted in this far-away southern world of ours. Everywhere one goes in the Wairarapa one feels the English spirit—that sweet, mysterious, indescribable Something that tells of the joy and glory of Empire. Both pride and pleasure are derived from the quiet contemplation of a smiling and prosperous countryside.
“Now, let us be personal. Have YOU, Mr., Mr., Master, or Miss Reader, ever railed it to Masterton for a quiet Sunday outing? Or Palmerston North? Both are comparatively short journeys, and inexpensive. If you have not, then you have missed one of the nicest little excursions, picturesque and educational, at your command. There's health for the body, repose for the mind, and joy for the soul the other side of the hills. There's nothing noisy or jarring in the outings. Everything is well-planned, well-ordered, and faithfully performed. Over the everlasting hills and beyond, you forget the cares, the worries, the petty disabilities of life; the dust of work, of business, is removed from the eyes and the cobwebs from the brain, and Monday morning finds you again at your varied tasks, brighter, better, stronger, happier and more contented.
“The railway is the safe way, the better way, to travel along Life's Milky Way.”