Contents
The Audit Office,
Wellington, N.Z 10th March, 1930.
Wellington, N.Z 10th March, 1930.
I hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose the average circulation of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” for the twelve months ended February, 1930 as in excess of 23,500 copies per month during the whole of that period, and that during the months of January and February, 1930, the monthly circulation has increased to 24,000 copies.
Contreller And Auditor-General
A Hearty Welcome to New Zealand.
(Rly Publicity Photo)
The members of the British Rugby team were given a warm welcome by a large gathering of Rugby enthusiasts on the occasion of their arrival at Wellington by the Rangitata on 14th May. The illustrations shew: (1) On board the Rangitata. (2) Messrs. J. Baxter (manager of the British Rugby team) and S. S. Dean (chairman of the New Zealand Committee) stepping down the gang way of the Rangitata. (3) and (4) The Rangitata and visiting footballers waving farewell to the ship. (5) On board the Rangitata, left to right, Messrs. F. Prentice (captain of the visiting team), S. S. Dean, J. Baxter and Dr. G. J. Adams (President, N.Z.R.U.) (6) Members of the team disembarking. (7) Dr. McEvedy, the Wellington President, addressing the gathering at the official reception to the visitors in Wellington. (8) Left, Mr. D. A. Kendrew (England), and right, Mr. H. H. Sterling, of the New Zealand Rugby Union's Management Committee.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
“
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For Better ServicePublished by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
Circular over 24,800
Vol. 5. No. 02.
Wellington, New Zealand
Railways and Sport
There is a natural association between railways and sport which arises from the inter-related interests of the two. The sport lives because of public interest, and part of the living of railways is derived from their activities in enabling that public interest to gain expression.
In England the great concourses of people for race meetings and Cup finals have, for many decades, been possible only through the special efforts of the railways. In New Zealand. likewise, the popular sports are those which draw together the greatest masses of people. For a full enjoyment of the game the presence of the crowd is essential. It is this that creates the electrical atmosphere and makes possible the most dazzling play—a play inspired as much by the wildly excited cries of the multitude as by the momentous importance of the occasion.
It is for the conveyance of people in large groups that the railways are particularly well fitted. Hence, when sports events of outstanding importance, such as the visit of the British Rugby Football Representatives takes place, it is upon the railways that the bulk of the people must depend for transport over any considerable distance.
Members of the railway service who are engaged in train operating, are, of course, precluded by the nature of their occupation from sports in which teamwork is required. But amongst these much individual prowess has been shown in such fields as boxing, golf and bowling. In the main centres, however, where members of our large workshops or other non-operating staffs are located, there is hardly a provincial football team that does not include one or two outstanding players drawn from the ranks of the railways.
Bzeing equipped with facilities for dealing with sudden peaks of passenger traffic, the railways in New Zealand have done a great deal to help popularise travel to sports events. Thus we have excursion rates to race meetings of any importance, we provide concession rates for competitors at most of the field meetings, and special rates are available to teams of various sorts for all kinds of contests. As all the world knows, Rugby football is by far the most universal sport in New Zealand. It is the ambition of every boy to play in his school team, and it is the height of ambition with many to play in representative matches for their Province. Island or Dominion. With womenfolk, too, interest is very intense amongst some sections, whilst a knowledge of the game is surprisingly general.
In these circumstances it is not to be wondered at that national interest has been stirred to a high pitch by the present series of matches between the representatives of Great Britain and the principal New Zealand teams. Those who have witnessed the games have been impressed by the fine spirit displayed by the visitors and the dashing game they play. It may be expected that the three tests to be played will draw record numbers of spectators. The interest of the Department lies mainly in conveying the traffic which all forecasts indicate will be exceptionally heavy; but the human interest in the result of the games will be intensified still further for railwaymen should some of their own fellow workers, such as H. Lilburne and M. Nicholls, be included in the New Zealand team.
It has been the privilege of the Railway Department to arrange all the transport for the British team. We hope that whatever their success in the tests may be, the standard of comfort with which we can provide them on the trains may be such as will help them to recover from the strain of their preceding games and bring them fresh and fit and full of confidence for the following ones.
“Capable and Efficient Officers.”
In the course of a statement to the Press concerning the order of reference of the Railway Commission, which has been set up by the Government to investigate railway matters in New Zealand, the Prime Minister (Hon. G. W. Forbes) pays the following tribute to the responsible officers of the Service:—
“I recognise that the men who are responsible for running the railways are capable and efficient officers, and that they are actuated by a keen desire to get the best possible results from the service, both from a financial and a public utility point of view. They are not responsible for many of the points of policy, and it is in these directions that the Government feels that there is need for investigation.”
Message from the ex-Minister of Railways
Upon handing over the portfolio of Railways to the Hon. W.A. Veitch, the Hon. W. B. Taverner has kindly forwarded the following message to the Railway staff:
In relinquishing the portfolio of Minister of Railways I desire to express my deep appreciation and thanks to all members of the Service for the manner in which they have applied themselves to the various spheres of their activity during the time I have had the honour of being the Ministerial head.
I also wish to convey to the General Manager, Mr. H. H. Sterling, my personal thanks for the sound advice and attention he has given to all matters requiring consideration and action from time to time.
Needless to say, I am sorry to sever my connection with a Service which has exhibited such a fine example of esprit de corps.
My colleague, the Hon. W. A. Veitch, at one time a member of the Railway Service, will, I know, notwithstanding the difficulties surrounding him, continue to enjoy that helpful spirit which exists amongst all ranks of the Service and which should go a long way in solving the problems existing to-day.
My best wishes are extended to one and all.
Message from the Hon. W. A. Veitch, Minister of Railways
The Hon. W. A. Veitch, whose rise from the position of Cleaner in the Railway Service of this Dominion, to that of Minister of Railways for New Zealand, is one of the stirring romances of this country, has kindly contributed the following message for the New Zealand Railways Magazine.—Ed.
The Hon. W.A. Veitch
Over 40 years ago it was my honour and privilege to join the Railway Service in Auckland in the capacity of Cleaner, later serving as Fireman and Driver, and Depot Chargeman in the Locomotive Branch. After many years of active service I resigned in 1911 and stood for Parliament, since when I have been privileged to represent the Wanganui Electorate.
During my period of railway activity I made many staunch friends, but as time progresses I regret to say many of them have crossed the Great Divide. However, there are quite a number still with whom I have served, and with whom I came in contact, rendering good and faithful service, and my best wishes are extended to them, and also to those members whom I have not yet been privileged to meet.
Naturally my appointment to the portfolio of Minister of Railways is very pleasing to me, and I feel proud that I have been given the opportunity of renewing my associations with a service in which I have always been keenly interested.
I trust that the experience gained by me in the practical working of railways in my earlier days will assist me in grappling with the many complex and difficult problems surrounding the Department to-day. I feel that I have the wholehearted co-operation of all its members and hope that when the time comes to relinquish my responsible task I shall retain their goodwill.
Minister Of Railways
The Personal Touch in Business.
I Have recently noted some very effective work by individual members of the staff in all grades of the service in obtaining new business for the Department by the personal touch. This kind of enterprise, which gives the clearest possible indication that the members concerned are keenly alive to the Department's interests, is, needless to say, greatly appreciated by me, but it is, if possible, even more appreciated by the public who have benefited by this personal attention to their transport needs by foreseeing, thoughtful and attentive members of our staff. I would be glad to see a still further extension of this type of commercial activity amongst our railwaymen, and I am sure that any member who goes out of his way to help build up business for the railways will find a great deal of pleasure in the work, and will feel amply repaid by the valuable result which almost invariably follow such efforts. The public appreciate attention, and they are in the habit of obtaining it. If we do not give it, there is a big chance that someone else will. We are particularly well placed on account of the large number engaged in our industry to produce a big mass effect upon the people with whom we deal, and if we bring to them accurate knowledge, helpful suggestions and a keenly developed selling capacity, they will respond in a very marked degree to our appeals.
Improved Goods Traffic.
There has been a decided improvement in our goods traffic during the past twelve months, an increase of over 175,000 tons being shown in the total of goods and live stock carried. This has been partly due to special measures taken to deal with competition in certain areas, but I think it is to a still greater degree attributable to the personally addressed solicitations for business which we have made, and to the assistance we have given to traders in securing the best terms and means of transport for their commodities.
There yet remains, however, a considerable residue of business which should rightly be ours if the full facts of the position were properly and personally placed before the people concerned. To do this thoroughly, the assistance of all members of our staff is required, as opportunity offers, and I trust that, with such assistance and the following up of every opening for new business that presents itself, an even better record will be put up during the current financial year.
Visit Of British Footballers.
During the month the most important event from the passenger traffic standpoint has been the series of matches in which the visiting British footballers have been engaged. The traffic to date in connection with these contests has been of a most encouraging nature. Wherever special trains have been run the patronage has been well up to expectations. I anticipate that, with the further games to be played, public interest will become still more intensified, with corresponding increase in the volume of passenger traffic to be handled.
General Manager
Empire-girdling Voices—Miss Amy Johnson Blows In—Anglo-Egyptian Conference Blows Out—Sacred Bonds of Sport.
The Impossible is Done.
During the month the Finnish barque Olive-bank, 156 days out from a Baltic port, arrived in Melbourne, and the human voice was transmitted from England to Australia as easily as one may speak from the kitchen to the dinning-room Anyone who had predicted such a thing at any time in the last century would have been in danger of being locked up. Formal opening of this great service of wireless telephony between Motherland and Commonwealth look the form of a conversation between the two Prime Ministers, who both happen to be Labour Prime Ministers. Their interesting dialogue has been cabled in full, but less attention has been paid to the exchanges between the two politicians who followed them—the Rt. Hon. David Lloyd George and the Rt. Hon. W. M. Hughes. It might have been thought that on such an occasion the two Opposition leaders would have followed the two Prime Ministers, but the choice fell on two leaders of third parties. The fact, however, that each of them is an ex-Prime Minister of world-wide fame makes their participation sufficiently notable. Moreover, “wireless” has a past, and both these men know it. “You remember,” said Mr. Hughes to Mr. Lloyd George, “how in 1921 that massed band of experts said this could not be done!” Within one decade the experts are confounded.
Stormy Petrels.
He certainly is a venturesome man who, in modern scientific development, utters the word “can't.” Achievement, however, has to over-come commercial as well as technical difficulties, and it is probable that the inner commercial history of wireless would be quite as interesting as its scientific record. Nor would it be by any means free of political contacts, as when Mr. Cecil Chesterton lampooned Mr. Lloyd George with charges that, years later, were refuted in detail by Lord Birkenhead. The veteran of many similar encounters, Mr. Lloyd George, met another such in Mr. Hughes, and the part the two Welshmen played in war and post-war councils has already been embalmed in war literature. Meanwhile, both remain vital sparks—or (as some would have it) stormy petrels. And that title Mr. Hughes would not disclaim. Press listeners at the wireless telephone opening heard him say to Mr. Lloyd George: “Politically, of course, you have your troubles… Yes, yes, full of troubles. I'm afraid wherever we are, trouble is very near us. If there's not trouble, we make some.” And Mr. Hughes in Australia gave a characteristic chuckle, which forthwith registered in London.
A Feminine Columbus.
That scientific urge that has made human conversation possible across the world—possible even for a man so conspicuously deaf as Mr. Hughes has been for many years—is not likely to leave flying development in its present transitory stage. Flying, like wireless, and like most other progressive development, is a commercial as well as a scientific problem. In age, flying is younger than wireless, for this century was several years old before the Wrights flew in the United States. But in some countries, at any rate, it does not lack pioneering capital; and though Stock Exchange publications have recently stated that flying companies do not pay, the confidence behind them in the United States, Germany and Britain is unabated. It does not, however, proclaim itself in the cablegrams as
* * *
The Anglo-Egyptian negotiations to settle the terms of Egypt's independence did not produce an agreement. It is, however, only the first round. In that round, each party has carefully tested the strength and the weaknesses of the other party. Some people might have thought that Egypt was mainly employed in looking seaward towards the Suez Canal, and that she was not much concerned to look inland (up-river) at the Sudan. But the conference proceedings indicate that, after a demonstration along the canal, the Egyptian tacticians de-veloped a strong movement towards digging-in on the Upper Nile, wherefore control of the Sudan dominated the closing phases of the Sudan dominated the closing phases of the nego-tiations. Egypt's concern about the higher reaches of the Nile is understandable enough. The Suez Canal has been called the jugular vein of the Empire; if so, the Nile is no less the jugular vein of Egypt. If the lower Waikato were in New Zealand, if Hamilton and Arapuni were in the Sudan, and if Lake Taupo was in Abyssinia or Uganda, New Zealand would be able to realise only faintly what Egypt feels. But, in law, can it be said that Egypt's case in the Sudan is any stronger than Britain's in Egypt?
* * *
Although the Naval Conference, unlike the Anglo-Egyptian Conference, produced an immediate concrete result, its ratification by all three Legislatures (Britain, United States, and Japan, so far as the three-Power portion of the treaty is concerned) is not to be taken for granted. The United States Senate is notori-ously rebellious against certain kinds of Presidential policy, and is particularly suspicious of foreign entanglements, as Woodrow Wilson discovered, and as President Hoover may yet discover. As the President, however, has intimated his intention to submit the three-Power treaty to the Senate “almost immediately,” fresh light on that point may be expected any day. So far, American criticism of the naval limitation seems to have been as much directed against Japan's share of naval strength as against Britain's. And in Japan there are influential patriots who are equally convinced that Japan has been robbed. The full strength of this American-Japanese discontent is not yet apparent.
Sport, which has long been inter-Imperial, is now international, and the visits of athletic teams have assumed almost a dip omatic character. What Davis Cup tennis is internationally, cricket and football are Imperially, for they embrace all the self-governing units of the Empire outside of North America. It is, therefore, a red-letter sport year that sees a British Rugby team in New Zealand, and the Australian cricketers in England. Both games have so many armchair students that the effect of tours and test matches reaches the old as well as the young generation, and numerous veterans who played cricket when Grace and Giffen did, or football in the days of Gage and Stoddart, are in the game as much as ever when test results are broadcast, so Australia is not so much concerned about the end of the slump as about whether Grimmett, Hornibrook, Wall and company can restore the former effectiveness of the Australian attack. Conversely, the success of the New Zealand loan will hardly countervail the disappointment that will be felt if the Rugby rubber turns against the white All Blacks.
* * *
Both cotton and wool have lost so much ground to artificial silk that they have separately started propagandist drives to recapture the public taste, which is mainly the feminine taste. In connection with National Cotton Week, held in Britain, May 5-12, it was stated that today a woman wears from three to four yards of cotton material, whereas her mother wore ten yards. Possibly that experience could be parallelled by the wool propagandists, who have lately been conducting special selling drives in New Zealand. Naturally a wool-producing country is more concerned about the recovery of woollens than of cotton goods; but both industries can make common cause against the short skirt. Whether they have exercised or can exercise the slightest influence on the partial return of the long skirt is another question. That it is worth their while to try to influence fashion is sufficiently proved by the estimate that Britain buys every year 400 million yards less cotton than she bought before the war.
In 1925 New Zealand exported to Canada £ 423,068 worth of goods, and imported from Canada goods worth £ 3,916,237. In 1929 this huge adverse balance of trade had been much reduced, New Zealand's exports being worth £ 3,353,975, and her imports worth £ 4,787,181. In that readjustment of trade, a leading part was played by butter, which, benefiting by the treaty of 1925-a treaty which was made between Canada and Australia, but to the benefit of which New Zealand was admitted-gained entry to Canada on payment of a duty of one cent per pound. So far did New Zealand butter profit by this opportunity that in 1929, according to official figures, 80 per cent. in value of New Zealand's exports to Canada was butter. Now, however, the long delayed action of the Canadian Government has materialised, and the duty is to be raised from one cent to three cents. As the matter is in negotiation between the two countries no more need be said than to point out that overtures for closer trade, if prefaced by a trebling of the duty on 80 per cent. of the trade of one of the parties, start with a tremendous initial incubus.
One of the problems of modern industry is to calculate the rate of obsolescence. At a time when a vast sum was sunk in silent pictures, the talking picture rattled the whole fabric, and there were predictions that the silent film was doomed. Seeing that there is still sail upon the sea and that there are still horses in the streets, predictions of total extinction probably require some discount. Indeed, the Australian Film Censorship Board, writing in the opposite strain, recently recorded its deliberate opinion that “the loss of the desirable characteristics of the silent picture outweighs any advantage that sound may have brought.” But in the meanwhile no evidence is discover-able of any decline in popularity of the highest class of talking pictures. A London cablegram dated 29th April credits one American producing organisation with having cleared, in 1929, twelve million sterling, and with the intention of spending some millions thereof in film production in England, the strategic importance of which country is considered to be increased since vocal films became multi-lingual. Already an English picture produced in two languages has run in Germany.
Maqris Honour Visiting British Footballers.
(Railway Publicity photo.)
Replying to the address of welcome at the official reception at Wanganui to the members of the British Rugby Team, Mr. James Baxter (Manager of the team) commented on the hospitality that is being showered upon them in New Zealand. The above picture, taken at Wanganui, shews, left to right: Mr. James Baxter, Wikatoria Maru maru, Mr. F. D. Prentice (Capt.), Paeroa Hunia, Mr. W.H. Sobey (Vice-capt.), and Takiwaiora Rikihana Hopa—the visitors wearing the mats presented to the team by the Rangitikei Maoris.
)Ken Alexander .
Brother, when you see a crimsoncorpuscled, three-ply, double-yolked, wire-woven, cable-edged, two-hundred per cent, he-male, ornamented with oriel jaw and sporting an optic calculated to infect a python with a Dunlop complex, rise up in the banqueting hall and libel the ladies “the weaker sex,” you know full well, that he either is well “full” or is emulating the ostrich. He is ignoring the gravity of force, and casting calumny on the athletic Amazon, the tennis-terror, the spinster-sprinter, the demon-dancer, and the lady-bird, who have made the world fit for feminism. For the nonce, he has overlooked the muscular maidens of his own marital menage, in whose hands he is potter's clay and Fuller's Earth.
Brother, the bitter truth is that we have been buncoed from birth, and this “emancipation of woman” talky is but final proof of woman's ability to screw the scrum, work the blind side of man, and present him with the dummy, ad lib, in toto, and in the neck.
For the minutes of the meeting disclose that Woman was fully and finally emancipated five seconds after Eve made a rib-stone pippin of Adam while he slept on the job; for a while she concealed her fire-arms and relied on fainting and feinting to lead man to lower his guard, while she slipped over sundry sly wallops on his wide open spaces, to the secret delight and profit of her sex; but now she has come openly into the market-place, has proclaimed herself the queen-bee and has stung man on his superiority complex.
There remain certain mutinous males, how-ever, who, with their backs to the mantelpiece, still defend the fallacious fabrication of male domiuation.
But for us, brother, deeds not words—cool action, not hot air. To prove our claim to the title of Head Man, it behoves us to down-pens, don an aeroplane, and zoom over the horizon with a jerkin, a pair of odd socks, and a grim determination to impinge on Terra Firma, Gorgonzola, or the Hook of Holland, in one complete piece.
Can we do it —or is it for us, the white man's burden? Notwithstanding anything to the contrary, sisters, we hasten to assure you that our hearts thicken with manly appreciation of your athletic adroitness, your mental mastery, and your aerial activities.
But we have our pride, sisters; we have our pride.
Lady-Birds.
“The weaker sex.”
It is true that Woman has pegged out her claim in nearly every field of endeavour, but there still remains the football field, where strong silent balls of muscle roll each other in the ooze, step on each other's windpipes, and generally react in accordance with Nature's original specifications; for since the institution of the Riot Act man has been rigorously repressed and suppressed; he is forbidden by law to give his boy-friend a thick ear in a public place; he cannot even recline on a business rival's neck on the main highway, or split a competitor's coat up the back in the marketplace. Is it any wonder that this restraint often results in such discords in his choral tone as the Rugby rabies, severe scrumatism, forward-tactics, calf-worrying, full-back aches, falling fits, dust-biting, muddy complexion, and that severe form of shortness of breath, known in football parlance, as loss-of-pants?
Only once a week is he licensed to uncork his emotions and come down to earth—with a thud. Saturd'y! Football! Coatless, collared but collarless, breathless, sockless, and practically pantless, he sentences himself to half-a-day's hard labour for the privilege of tucking an oval bag of wind under his wing and getting his features pushed into the mud for his pains; but it is moments like these, virile reader, which have made the Umpire, forgive me, the Referee; and even if the leather-snatcher's thatch is a mating place for worms, and he looks like a clay model by Epstein, before it has dried, “A man's no mug for a’ that,” as Bob McBurns, the Scottish front-ranker, might have remarked.
It certainly is true that, as the English schoolboy wrote, the inhabitants of New Zealand are all blacks, if not in actuality, then in spirit, for even the infant Enzed kicks his feeding bottle neatly into touch, dribbles with easy facility, and questions the referee's decision like a veteran when she announces the order of the bath. Every real New Zealander, for the term of his snatcheral life, either pursues a football or tells others how to do it from the grandstand; and every male Maorilander of youthful years carries his All-Black (toe)-cap on his boot.
You, fond parent, who have decreed that little Theobald shall function as a Director of Railways, have you never considered the possibility of him going even higher and becoming a Porter? You, proud proprietor of infantile masculinity—
“The white man's burden.”
“A clay model by Epstein.”
who have arranged that the child Harold shall manage grand hotels, has it never occurred to you that he might take the ball in his own hands and develop even into a Cooke? For truly, the future of New Zealand Rugby lurks in the pram, and the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that screws the scrum. When marvelling at the voracity of Victor, does it never occur to you that full stomachs in infancy make full-backs in maturity; and that:
The Cradle-Smashers.
Football! What fruity memories the word weaves in the mind grown moribund with meals and mathematics; memories of youth when, the world forgetting by the world forgot, you committed a larceny called “footy,” a distant and depraved relation of Rugby, which was perpetrated with your father's second-of-best “bun” as the casus belli, and two teams of at least twenty head each. Do you remember how, inflamed to the point of madness by the exploits of “Billy” Wallace and “Jimmy” Duncan, and further intoxicated by the possession of an alleged jersey, which suffered from advanced wooly aphis and moth-bites, you led your side through the hole in the fence, yelping like a mal-nourished man-eater? Do you not recollect how, as the riot progressed, members of the teams registered a proneness to ignore the ball and concentrate on the personal aspect of the the meeting, with the result that your father's second-grade “bun” (now a mere mess of pottage) lay forgotten beneath the hedge while the personnel proceeded to amend the rules of Rugby to their individual tastes, by force of arms, fists and teeth?
And further—do you mind how, when you appealed with tears in your eyes, to Cæsar for a REAL football, he compromised despicably by palming off on you an inflatable fragment of a pig's inside conformation, presented to him by the butcher as a mark of esteem? Does it not seem but yesterday that you lodged an informal objection on the grounds that the contemptible piece of physiology was a lighter-than-air vessel and therefore ultra vires and no bloomin’ good? And, happy days—don't you recollect how Cæsar snatched the poor substitute arrogantly from your hands and, with a hoot of disbelief, hoofed it violently across the yard with such abandon that it sped with a glorious crash clean through the scullery window, to the utter downfall of Cæsar and the subterranean satisfaction of yourself?
Ah, those were the days, when the germs of football germinated in a thousand paddocks, and All-Blacks crooned in their cradles.
Football, dear reader, is a paradoxical pastime. As the title seems to imply, the ball is the game and the game is the ball; without the ball, football
“Through the scullery window.”
habeas corpus until the referee whistles them off, and allows THEM to boot it without let or hindrance. Does it not seem unjust that such steadfastness of purpose should be thus harshly rewarded? Another peculiarity of the game is that everyone is so anxious to possess the ball, and that when they've got it they display even greater anxiety to throw it away to someone else. No doubt it is these enigmatical enactments which make the game so interesting, but ’tis passing strange.
There must be something in this Rugby recreation, when roving bands of muscular masculinity move up and down the face of the earth seeking whom they may defeat; the latest invasion is by a bunch of burly Britishers who have slid over the bulge of the earth to take the ball away from New Zealand, if they can. Will they do it? Will it said that “They came, they scored, they conquered”?
No tongue can tell—not even the tongue of the ball—until the final numbers go up; but it is safe to predict, without fear of ostracism by “Fair Play,” “Old Rugbyite” and the armchair experts, that the side which wins will be the victor.
But if things look really all black we always have the Railways to fall back on; the Railways reek Rugby, for are not railway servants constantly on the TRAIN? Do they not “find the line” invariably, never miss their “passes,” obey the whistle without question, run straight and fast (although they can side-track neatly when required), have got the “goods” all along the line, and are equally efficient whether they “follow the sun” or run up the line in “Daylight Limited”; the Railways are full of ’Prentices and Porters, and you will always find railway footballers in the van.
With these few words, dear reader, let us touch down and take the ball home.
“Led your side.”
“That in view of the serious effect which road motor transport is having on Irish railways, members should see that their general household commodities and clothing, etc., are purchased only from those traders who support railroad transport, and whenever possible, encourage relatives and friends to do likewise.”—A resolution passed by the Limerick Junction Branch. (Ireland), of the National Union of Railwaymen.
Travelling to time in the Daylight Limited
In the heart of the North Island Bush Country.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Manganui-o-te-ao Viaduct (height 112ft., length 290ft.), near Ohakune Junction, North Island Main Trunk Line, New Zealand.
)J. C. Morrison .
Mr. Morrison is a London journalist with a very wide experience of railway travel. His impressions of the “Rotorua Limited” will be read with particular interest in view of recent developments in de luxe passenger transport.
Arailway event of outstanding importance to the citizens of Auckland and of Rotorua, and, in fact, of all New Zealand, was the inauguration, on 5th May, of the new service of luxurious express trains between Auckland and Rotorua—New Zealand's famous thermal wonderland.
These trains, which were specially built at the Railway Department's Workshops at Otahuhu, Auckland (to designs prepared by Mr. G. S. Lynde, until recently, Chief Mechanical Engineer of the New Zealand Railways), are fitted with all the most up-to-date improvements that the ingenuity of the railway coachbuilder's art can devise, and are, perhaps, the finest trains of their kind in the Southern Hemisphere. Indeed, globe-trotters of world-wide experience who made the inauguration trip to Rotorua, enthusiastically acclaimed the new accommodation as being quite equal, if not superior, to that provided on Continental, American, or British railways. This is not exaggerated boosting, for the Town Clerk of Auckland, who has travelled over all the great railways of the world, said to the writer: “Auckland is singularly fortunate in having these remarkably fine coaches for the Rotorua service; they are veritable ‘wonder trains’.”
There was a large crowd of people on the platform at the Auckland station as the new express steamed out punctually. (A replica of the Auckland express left Rotorua at the same hour, 10.10 a.m., for Auckland). Our express was composed of two first-class carriages, four second-class carriages, an observation car, a guard's van, and a powerful locomotive. The train was full to capacity.
As our express gradually slackened its rate of speed and came to a standstill at Frankton Junction, we were afforded a most excellent close-up view of our twin-sister express, which had just arrived from Rotorua. Those of us who had seen Stevenson's original “Puffing Billy” and “carriages,” now on exhibition in the South Kensington Museum, in London, made a mental comparison of these relics of the railway inception period, with the artistic beauty and luxuriousness of the new expresses. In his interview with the writer, the Town Clerk of Auckland said: “I trust that the public will show their appreciation of the initiative and splendid enterprise of the railway management by patronising to the fullest possible extent the service to Rotorua. I doubt whether the great importance of the new undertaking has been adequately recognised by the people of Auckland, but when they find out what has been done I am certain that these trains will prove almost irresistible. Overseas tourists, particularly, will go away from the Dominion not only as most enthusiastic advertisers of our marvellous thermal wonders and health resorts, our magnificent lake and mountain scenery, and phenomenal trout-fishing, but will return to their home countries and sing the praises of the new express service to New Zealand's thermal wonderland.”
But, let us return to Frankton Junction. We found the station packed with enthusiastic sight-seers. Most of them were sturdy farmers and their families, who “scorn delights and live laborious days” on dairy farms nearby. They gazed in open-eyed wonderment at the splendour of the new expresses, with the richly emblazoned coat of arms on the outside of each carriage. This conspicuous adornment drew the attention of those who had seen the official Ministerial coaches with the royal arms painted in colours. Although these new coaches resemble the official cars in appearance, with respect to new contrivances the former are really more artistically finished and far more up-to-date.
After leaving Frankton, passengers went from end to end of the train examining everything, particularly the observation car with its beautiful Oriental carpet, its exquisite oxidised silver fittings, and dainty blue silk curtains hanging on its wide, low, plate-glass windows. These latter fit into felt guides, and are balanced with a leather spring arrangement, making for easy operation and eliminating any possibility of the windows rattling against their frames. The electric lighting, ventilation, and heating arrangements, also were greatly admired. The light, softly diffused through cut-glass globes, is pleasing and restful to the eye. At the back (on the carriage wall) of each of the richly upholstered reversible armchairs is a tiny electric reading light. In addition to electric fans and ceiling ventilation, glass slides, moving easily between felt guides, are provided over the windows for ventilation purposes. The heating apparatus is perfect, and can be easily operated by passengers. A further improvement is provided in that the hand-rails on the platform of the observation car are all electro-plated. Once seated in this delightfully cosy observation car one is tempted to break out into verse, and say with the poet:
Reluctantly we leave this car and inspect the other carriages before we arrive at Rotorua. We note that the whole train is connected by concertina vestibules, both dust-proof and windproof. This innovation will be very much appreciated by the travelling public. These twin Auckland-Rotorua expresses are the only trains of the kind on the New Zealand Railways. By the passengers, one heard perhaps more praise lavished on the corridors than any other part of the train—and that is saying a great deal.
The first-class carriages are designed to give travellers ample room and comfort. The very latest style in armchairs is provided, these being furnished in rich blue moquette, of very serviceable texture, making a striking contrast with the silver-plated seating frames. The chairs can be easily adjusted to three different positions. The interior decorations are all of choice and beautifully polished New Zealand timbers. One heard the remark passed that it would be almost desecration to cover these artistic furnishings with advertisements, as is done on other trains. The windows (with the exception of width), the heating and ventilation, and the electric lights (excepting the small reading lamps) are much the same as those installed in the observation car. In each first-class carriage is a bird-cage compartment to seat six persons. These may be reserved for persons desiring privacy while travelling. Except with regard to the seating accommodation, there is no difference in the design of the second-class carriages.
The aristocrat of new zealand Trains
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
The Auckland-Rotorua “Limited Express” on the Parnell Bank, Auckland.
To ensure smooth running, all springs used are specially tempered, and the bogeys of longer wheel-base than in use on other carriages. To minimise side shocks, which are experienced when rounding curves or travelling over crossings, these bogeys are also fitted with bolster buffers. By an ingenious contrivance the water supply is controlled from underneath each carriage, where it is contained in tanks of high capacity. Raised by means of air pressure of from seven to ten pounds per square inch, it passes through a heater governed by steam from the locomotive. Thus a supply of hot water, sufficient for the lavatory basin throughout the trip, is maintained.
Another interesting contrivance is an easily operated emergency brake, connected with the Westinghouse brake and fitted inside each carriage. One other feature is the new automatic couplings, manipulated by a lever, from the side of the carriage. These are designed to ensure absolute safety, not only to passengers, but also to shunters, whenever the latter are called upon to detach cars.
These are the most striking features of the new “Wonder Trains.” Although I have copious notes about places of interest passed on the way to Rotorua, I find that I have used all the space allotted me in describing (very imperfectly perhaps) the splendid arrangements of these new expresses, and must, therefore, eliminate all reference to the prosperous butter factories and the amazingly successful development of the country passed through (en route to Rotorua). Our express reached its destination at scheduled time, its arrival being enthusiastically greeted by a large crowd, whose interest and pride in the magnificent train was manifest on all sides.
Huge Mileage Run by British Railways
Every year nearly 140,000,000 freight train miles, and 270,000,000 passenger train miles, are run by British railways. The 20,000 miles of running track are used by 23,000 locomotives, 50,000 coaches, and some 1,200,000 freight vehicles.
Rotorua Officially Welcomes the Arrival Of The New “Limited Express.”
Official group taken at Rotorua upon the arrival of the new Auckland-Rotorua “Limited Express” on its inauguration run.
Our London Letter
In his present contribution, our special London Correspondent makes interesting reference to the important work performed by the various international railway organisations on behalf of the world's railways, and gives his usual review of current railway developments in Britain and on the Continent.
Last month there was held in Madrid, the capital of Spain, the regular convention of the International Railway Congress. This gathering may, at first sight, appear of little importance to the New Zealand railwayman. As a matter of fact, the International Railway Congress performs the most valuable work on behalf of railways the world over. Not only does it afford a round table for the discussion, among the nations, of all affairs relating to railways and railway operation, but, by the world-wide circulation of the papers read by experts (in their respective fields) at the conference, it enables railway folk everywhere to keep in touch with current developments in transportation, and provides a stimulus for progress in all departments.
To-day, “railroading,” as our American friends style our work, knows no national boundaries. It is now an international undertaking, demanding the closest co-operation of railway men in every land. The International Railway Congress, as an association for the interchange of railway technical experience between the world's railways, provides a most striking example of the value of international co-operation—and this association is but one of several bodies now helping in the betterment of international communications.
Well to the fore among international railway associations of which New Zealand railway men should know something, is the International Railway Union, established, in 1922, at the instigation of the French railways. Sixty-two railway undertakings, belonging to thirty-three different European and Asiatic lands, are members of this union, which aims at facilitating international rail movement, and co-ordinates European railway opinion on vital international questions arising before the League of Nations and the International Chamber of Commerce.
Then, of the League of Nations, there is that advisory and technical committee which deals with communications and transit, the Railway Time-table Conference, which has done wonders in the improvement of European long-distance transport; and that well-known organisation, the International Chamber of Commerce. All of these international undertakings are performing invaluable service to mankind, and, by railway men especially, they are worthy of the most whole-hearted support.
Under the able leadership of Dr. Dorpmuller, the German railways to-day rank as one of the most progressive transportation undertakings in the world. This is indeed remarkable, when it is borne in mind how precarious was their financial condition at the time of the putting into being of the Dawes Plan. The fifth business year of the German Railway Company terminated on August 31st, 1929. In his report on the year's working, Monsieur Leverve, the Commissioner for the German railways to the Reparation Commission, states that traffic in 1929 reached a higher level than in 1928, when total receipts showed an increase of 2 ½ per cent. over the previous year. Receipts for 1929 were expected to reach a total of 5,370,000,000 marks, an increase of 4 per cent.
At the present time, the German railways, like those of Britain, are experimenting very considerably in the search for increased locomotive economy and efficiency. The present seems, indeed, to be the day of the freak locomotive. Everywhere new ground is being broken by the locomotive designer, and very soon it is likely that world locomotive practice will be little short of revolutionised. New types of boilers, pulverised fuel, higher steam pressures, changed valve arrangements—these, and other innovations, are going to produce some wonderful new steam locomotives in the near future.
Germany is at present busy with a new 1,200 horse-power Diesel locomotive of the 4-6-4 wheel arrangement, stated to be 100 per cent. more efficient than the conventional form of steam locomotive. Compressed air is utilised to drive this unique machine, wherein the steam engine is replaced by a Diesel engine and an air compressor, supplying air at 103lb. per square inch. This air is heated by the exhaust of the Diesel engine, and then actuates the locomotive cylinders. Germany's new Diesel locomotive is controlled by the familiar operation of the cutoff and a valve regulator. Like the “No. 10,000” and “Fury,” high-pressure steam locomotives of the Home railways, the new German Diesel engine is still in the experimental stage, and the results of the trials it is now undergoing in the Stuttgart area will be awaited with eager interest.
On the Swedish Government Railways.
A fast passenger train on the Stockholm-Malmo main line (shortly to be electrified).
Wooden passenger carriages are gradually being replaced throughout Europe by steel cars of modern design, and in this connection a lead is taken by the railways of Britain, France and Germany. In France, the Northern Railway has recently put into traffic in the Paris suburban services a number of all-steel cars of most interesting design. These cars are each 65 feet long and weigh 50 tons. They have an outer shell of sheet steel and an inner shell of duralumin. Between the two walls there are two thicknesses of cork, separated by an air bed, an arrangement giving equability of temperature both in summer and winter. The cars are connected by American type automatic central couplers, and fitted with Westinghouse brakes throughout. They are of the saloon type, with two pairs of sliding doors on each side, opening on to a platform and a pair of steps. Like the London underground railway cars, the doors of the French vehicles are equipped with pneumatic control apparatus operated by the guard.
Particular interest centres around the fact that these cars are to be made up into trains of nine vehicles, capable of being driven from either end. This ease in handling is secured by the provision, in the last car of the train, of a small driving compartment equipped with the necessary controls, including brake lever, regulator and reversing gear, and a telephone giving communication with the fireman on the engine at the opposite end. There is thus no necessity for the locomotive to run round its train at
For some years the 285 miles stretch of railway linking Stockholm and Gothenburg, in Sweden, has been successfully worked by electricty. Now the Swedish Government Railways are contemplating the conversion from steam to electric working of the Stockholm-Malmo-Traelleborg trunk route of 391 miles, as well as certain branch lines connecting this route with the Stockholm-Gothenburg line. The work will occupy about three years, and, by means of electrification, there is anticipated an annual saving of 120,000 tons of locomotive coal.
The total length of the Swedish electrified lines is about 750 miles. On the Stockholm-Gothenburg electrification, there is employed single-phase current of 16 2-3 periods and 16,000 volts. This arrangement will also apply to the new electrification plans. The Stockholm-Gothenburg route finds employment for ten electric passenger locomotives and forty electric freight locomotives. Each weighs 78 tons, and is of the 1-0-1 type with two gearings—one speed for fast passenger working, and the other for ordinary passenger and freight operation. When employed for passenger movement, speeds up to 45 miles an hour are attained with 500 ton trains.
In Sweden, both rail and road traffic keep to the left, as in Britain, but in other Scandinavian lands traffic keeps to the right. Sweden's near neighbour, Denmark, although only a relatively small land, possesses an efficient system of Government railways which, in recent times, have been extensively modernised. Fast trains are operated on all routes, and on the important route between Copenhagen and Masnedo (the ferry terminal on the trunk line to Germany via Gjedser-Warnemunde), and the Copenhagen-Korsor section, speeds up to 45 miles an hour are attained. Through cars are operated daily between Copenhagen and Berlin, Hamburg and Oslo, and sleeping-cars run each night between the Danish capital and Berlin, Hamburg, Oslo and Stockholm. The vast central passenger terminal (Hovedbanegaard), in Copenhagen, is soon to be electrified.
A Typical British Goods Station.
Interior of Bishopsgate Freight Depot, L. and N.E. Railway, London.
For freight handling on the European railways, many types of high-capacity wagon are now employed. At Home, there has been a steady growth in the carrying capacities of freight cars of all kinds, the first types of high-capacity wagon being introduced by the North Eastern Railway as early as 1902. To-day, both the L. and N.E. and L.M. and S. Railways employ trucks of as large a carrying capacity as 40 tons for coal traffic, these wagons being found most economical in service. The L. and N.E. Railway has recently put into traffic (for the movement of bricks) wagons having a carrying capacity of 50 tons, and, for the carriage of coal in the South Wales mining area, new high-capacity cars have been introduced on the Great Western line.
Notwithstanding the recent growth in the carrying capacity of the Home railway goods wagon, the British freight car still compares unfavourably in size with those of other lands. At Home, the average carrying capacity of freight cars works out at eleven tons. This figure compares with the French and Belgian average of fifteen tons, the German average of sixteen tons, and the American figure of forty-two tons. Conditions ruling in Britain and in America are, of course, vastly different, and all things considered, the British average wagon load figure of eleven tons is a very satisfactory one.
In their efforts to attract goods traffic to rail, no stone is being left unturned by the Home railways. Much personal canvassing is performed by each of the four group railways, and, in addition, a good deal of press and other publicity work is now being undertaken. Press announcements, poster advertising, and the issue of booklets, calendars, and the like, are all favoured in the effort to swell goods department revenues, and recent publications circulated include three interesting pamphlets issued by the Great Western line.
One booklet is entitled “How to Send and How to Save.” It gives a general review of freight traffic facilities by rail and railway-owned road services, a freight train time-table, and a list of the leading express goods trains.
Under the title of “Door to Door by Country Cartage Services,” an illustrated brochure has been issued, dealing with the road motor services operated in rural areas by the Great Western Railway.
The third publication takes the form of a leaflet entitled “Road-Rail Containers,” describing briefly the container system placed at the public disposal for the movement of miscellaneous freight.
Publications such as these prove of the greatest value in attracting goods traffic, and, in the case of the Great Western Railway, much new business has been definitely traced to their influence.
Summer holiday business is now at its height in Britain. Fast long-distance trains, composed of luxury vehicles with dining and sleeping car accommodation, fast and frequent services between London and the surrounding holiday haunts, day, half-day, and period excursions from every city to the coast and country resorts, and cheap bookings of every kind are held out for the delectation of the would-be vacationist.
From June to September all Britain, in turn, makes holiday. On the south, east and west coasts, there are scores of seaside resorts that handle tens of thousands of holiday-makers every month, while to such places as Stratford-on-Avon and the Shakespeare country, enormous numbers of sight-seers are drawn daily from all the corners of the earth.
A Place of World-Wide Pilgrimage.
Shakespeare's Birthplace at Stratford-on-Avon.
Wellington Public Libraries.“The heavenly forest, dense and living green.”
—Longfellow.
(Rly. Publicity Photo.)
A bush track, Tongariro National Park, North Island, New Zealand.
(Concluded.)James Cowan .)
In Geyserland's Capital
The white population of Rotorua is about four thousand. The town is in no way cramped for room; it spreads leisurely over a wide area of level ground, and houses are now dotting the roadside right out to Whakarewarewa, two miles away. Rotorua, once clothed with nothing but stunted manuka, is a delightful place of shade and flowers. The pumice soil grows trees and flowers wonderfully well. The tall plantation of eucalyptus and other trees that borders the railway station is quite a little forest, the growth of fewer than fifty years. There are many pretty private gardens, and if now and then a hot spring or sulphur “mudpot” may be heard gurgling and bubbling in a corner of the garden, the flowers seem all the more rich and more fragrant for it. Photographs of the town taken before the opening of the railway in 1894, and those of to-day reveal a most remarkable contrast. Rotorua now would hardly be recognised as the little village of the pre-railway era. It is quite as advanced as large cities in some important respects. On the Kaituna River, at Okere, the swift outlet of Lake Rotoiti, twelve miles from the town, the natural water force is utilised for the generation of electricity for the town. There is an excellent gravitation water supply, pure and inexhaustible, from great springs high up on the Moerangi range.
Less than half a century has seen Rotorua's development into a comfortable and beautiful modern town, a resort for travellers from all parts of the world, people who come to these waters of healing to rid themselves of their aches and pains, and win freedom and suppleness for crippled limbs; thousands of people, too, who come for the pleasure of travel in a novel country, a land full of scenic surprises and thrills and again, fishermen who find in Rotorua and Taupo the finest trout-angling in the world. Here is a State spa building, with baths of every kind, and every sort of scientific apparatus designed to supplement the good work of the healing waters. Here is a Government Sanatorium, a hospital, where those disabled by rheumatism or other trouble for which these springs are a panacea, are admitted on certain conditions. New and greatly improved buildings are now being erected there. On Pukeroa Hill amidst groves of English oaks, is the King George V. Hospital, a large institution originally established for wounded and sick soldiers. This is to be closed, and its place taken by a new sanatorium in the Government gardens.
The hotel and boardinghouse accommodation for travellers is quite equal to that in the large cities of the Dominion. Numerous large hotels, including three licensed to sell liquor, stand in convenient nearness to the railway station; and there is one at Whakarewarewa.
Motor cars ply about the streets, and motor-launches on the lake, at Rotorua's front door. The fisherman will find all the tackle he requires in the town shops; every branch of business is represented here, and there is no need to trouble about laying in a special equipment for travel and sport before coming to the town. All parts of the thermal country, the East Coast and the interior of the Island, are readily reached by motor car services. Lake Taupo is only a few hours by motor distant; the Tongariro National Park can be reached in a day's run; Tauranga, Whakatane, and other parts of the Bay of Plenty, are within easy compass by scenic roads.
The most common form of hydro-thermal activity in the Lakes Country is the hot spring, often an old geyser which has relapsed into a gently but continually boiling well or cauldron. Many of these boiling fountains supply the medicinal baths for which Rotorua is famous. They have been classified scientifically under the following groups:—
1.—Saline, containing chiefly chloride of sodium.
2.—Alkaline, containing carbonates and bicarbonates of soda and potash.
3.—Alkaline ailiceous, waters containing much silicic acid, but changing rapidly in exposure to the atmosphere and becoming alkaline.
4.—Hepatic or sulphurous, waters which contain sulphuretted hydrogen and sulphurous acid.
5.—Acid waters, in which there is an excess of mineral acids, such as hydrochloride and sulphuric acid.
It is the sulphurous waters whose presence is most marked at Rotorua, and the odour of sulphuretted hydrogen is the most insistent characteristic of the hot springs groups.
Some of the best known of these springs, all valuable as healers of man's aches and pains, are the Whangapipiro, or Madame Rachel's Bath, and Te Pupunitanga, or the Priest's Bath, in the Government grounds at Rotorua; the Postmaster's Bath, an exceedingly powerful wai-ariki, on the shores of Rotorua Lake; Te Kauwhanga; the Waihunuhunu-kuri spring Ohinemutu; Turikore or the Spout Bath, and the “Oil Bath,” at Whakarewarewa—types these of a thousand medicinal springs in the Thermal Zone, some used for bathing only, others fit for invalids' drinking. Many of these springs bear English names, which may appear cryptic or fantastic to a visitor; the explanation is that they were usually given because of some pakeha pioneer who derived benefit from their life - renewing wells and who proclaimed the virtues of the waters. The Priest's Bath and the Postmaster's Bath are examples.
In the early days the invalid who ventured into the manuka, where the warm springs bubbled up and sent their steam clouds softly curling above the thickets, had either to camp with the Maoris or live in a tent beside the spring. Things are very different now at Rotorua, where the hand of man has transformed so much of the land.
In the Government gardens (a park of 180 acres), there is a fern-fringed pond in which trout and ducks compete for the visitors' daily offerings of bread. Sometimes the hunk of bread is too big for the trout to swallow straight off, but he does not abandon it to the duck bobbling at it alongside him. He gets a grip on a corner of it, and swims away to a place where he can deal with it when it is thoroughly soaked. As a rule, the fish is quicker on the grab in the water than the duck, but the latter has the advantage of a longer reach in the air. So you see a chunk of bread won by a neck from the trout, who jostles up, mouth open, against his feathered rival. Luckily there are no eels in the ponds, otherwise the duckling mortality would be great. A good many loaves of bread must be divided between the Government fish and waterfowl in the course of a week.
Out at the Fairy Springs, too, the rainbow trout that crowd the crystal waters, are smart in the bread - snatching art. They sometimes form a sort of queue there. Trout number one glides up to the spring side, jumps at just the right moment, and gets his crumb from the pleased tourist. With a wriggle he puts his helm hard over and makes way for number two, and so on. The stranger to Rotorua soon discovers that it is well to be quick on the withdraw when trout are feeding. An Australian girl who held her contribution too long and too close to the trout jaws, emitted an amazed squeal. The fish had nipped her fingers.
“While off beneath the trembling ground
Rumbles a drear persistent sound.”—Domett.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A party of tourists, sight-seeing at Whakarewarewa, Rotorua, New Zealand.
Curious things you see in modern Ohinemutu, the headquarters village of the Arawa tribe. In the village square, a few yards from the tribal flagstaff, with its ancient warlock of a carved and tattooed figure at its foot, there is a pakeha-Maori edition of an electric light pole. This pole is carved in native fashion, and at its top is a little whata, or storehouse, like a pigeon cote. This is in imitation of the ancient tohunga's tree-top storehouse for sacred relics and offerings. The whata pole carries insulators and electric globe, and sometimes one will see the light burning all day long, as is often the way in the Rotorua streets. It is one of the customs of the country, for power is cheap. The Okere Falls are always on tap. Ohinemutu is a jumble of new and old. Next
tekoteko, a carved mask of totara, tattooed and painted by some long-gone Arawa artist, its features time-battered and lichen-crusted—an antique and wizardly thing. More carving as one passes along the Ruapeka Bay and the dazzling white pumice sands; a boiling spring, fenced in on two sides, for the public safety, with short palings, and a brace of carved, grimacing figures, red painted; they might be the Maori genii loci guarding the tapu scalding well. By the side of this terrific ngawha is a big-lettered notice, “Keep Out.” A trifle superfluous! A little way above this splashing cauldron there is a picture-like Maori carved house, all of the olden time except for its glass windows.
Of carving here and in Whakarewarewa there is a great deal to be seen, for this is the home of the most expert of all the native wood workers. The pretty church of St. Faith, in the hot spring village, is a joint product of pakeha architecture and Maori artcraft. So, too, is the little Catholic Church; its fine interior decoration is of an earlier date.
Yonder at Whakarewarewa, hot springs bubble and flop within a few feet of the pakeha-Maori houses, and hot vapours rise from a thousand crevices. The valley is one gorgeously hued palette, splashed in some mad spasm with the colours from a score of titanic paint-pots. The setting for Maori life here is indeed amazing for its colour scheme. The silica terraces—papa-kowhatu—that glitter like snowfields in the sun, with a formation that resembles the most delicate coral in places, have a foil in the background of dark-green fern and manuka. There are cliffs asparkle with alum crystals, and there are rocks and earth yellow with sulphur. The banks of the brown sulphurous Puarenga stream that flows through the valley, are pitted with grey and blue and black mud-pools. There are cliffsides of amber and chocolate, and the rich red ferruginous earth of the kokowai, a red ochre which, when mixed with oil, made a paint for the Maori.
“The play of natural children is the infancy of art.”
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Maori boys in characteristic poses in a hot pool, Rotorua, New Zealand.
Wairoa Geyser, which once we induced to spout in lofty volume, whenever we pleased, by casting into his throat an emetic of soap, has been inactive for many years. But Pohutu remains, the glory of Whakarewarewa, it (or “he” or “she” as Lakeland people indifferently refer to a puia) sometimes spouts away almost continuously for seven or eight hours, a long narrow column of boiling water ejected with terrific force and roarings, rising in quick pulsations, subsiding, and presently bursting forth again. Connected with Pohutu is Te Horo, or “The Chasm,” a fearful-looking deep, clear, ever-boiling cauldron, and near by is a hard-working and beautiful little geyser, manuka thickets and the river.
When the visitor has seen something of the hot-spring pitted lake shores, and has watched Pohutu spout its forty or sixty or seventy feet into the air, a pulsing diamonded rainbow shaft of living white against the blue of heaven, and has gazed into porridge-pots and fumaroles, puia and ngawha without end, he will want to see something of the Lakes. And after all, to my mind, the water cruises are the greatest joy the geyser country has to offer. Here the traveller may combine trout-fishing with his boating and camping in a fashion altogether delightful. The canal-like little river, the Ohau, which connects the lakes of Rotorua and Roto-iti, is useful beyond price, because it permits the sailing boat or motor launch to pass through and extend the cruise twenty miles from Rotorua town. Rotorua's shores hold many excellent camping places, where the fisherman may moor his launch and pitch his tent, away from the disturbing crowd, and away from the disturbing crowd, and the Ohau itself, just where it comes eddying out of Rotorua, is another favourite fishing place, where houseboats are seen moored to the willow banks in summer time. The angler in such spots need not go far for fish. The superior merits of Taupo's or Waikato's big fighting fish have been extolled by overseas visiting sportsmen, but these quiet waters of the Rotorua twin lakes, and Tarawera and other near-by lakes, furnish sport enough and to spare for the average angler, and even the trawling despised by the expert fly-fishermen holds plenty of excitement. The launch, slowed to half-speed, patrols the grounds just beyond the mouths of the hill streams—the best fishing places—and the angler with a bright minnow on his line, stands expectantly in the stern, until the tug comes, and then the joyful cry of “Fish!” is raised. The launch is stopped, and angler and rainbow trout tussle for mastery. Sometimes salmo iridens comes off best, and streaks indignantly up into his home stream with sundry fathoms of line hanging from his strong jaws.
Trout fishing is only one of the interests which this soft blue lake holds for one. There is lovely old Mokoia, a green mountain rising from the middle of the lake.
“An island like a little book Full of a hundred tales.”
The Maori Carver's Art.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
Storehouse in the Model Maori Pa, Whakarewarewa.
There are old-time villages around the mainland shores, each with its carved meeting-house. There is Hamurana of the crystal fount; you can reach it by car, too, and combine the trip with a visit to that most marvellous of trout pools, the Fairy Spring, Te Puna - a - Tuhoe of Maori legend.
The road from Rotorua to Te Wairoa, the historic buried village at the west end of Lake Tarawera, is a way of beauty and story. It passes through the woods of Rauporoa and Turwiriwiri; this bush was destroyed by the eruption of 1886, but has grown again with good luxuriance, ferny and mossy and creeper-hung. There is Lake Tikitapu, of turquoise hue, shadowed over by forested mountains and dark fern slants; beyond, again, are the new forests of the Government plantations.
There is its sister lake, Roto-kakahi, green in colour, with its two islands; and then there is Tarawera spread out before you, with the sinister old mountain looming blue-grey above it.
There are some of the remains of the old buildings; the broken tops of the church windows up there on the terrace of Te Mu, are just level with the ground to-day. Elms and oaks, poplars and blue-gums, flowering acacia, all grow green on the Wairoa. On the way up to an old mission house, there is an avenue of great it or whanake, cabbage trees, planted there three-quarters of a century ago. Up
pipi-wharauroa, sounding clear and sharp as a Navy bo's'n's whistle, high amidst the leafy rigging of the gums.
Roto-mahana, the “Warm Lake” of the Maoris, is the most singular example of a volcanic lake in the islands, for it has been subject to extraordinary changes during a marvellously brief period. Before the Tarawera eruption in 1886, Roto-mahana was but a small, shallow, reedy lagoon of about a mile in length. When Tarawera burst out a huge rift split the mountain from end to end and extended down into the lake at its foot. The waters of the lake, so suddenly gaining access to the hidden fires below, were converted into steam, and then up went the lake bottom and the islands and the terraces on its margin, hurled into the air to deluge the land for many scores of miles. The new Roto-mahana is six miles long, and several hundreds of feet deep. Along the northern and western shore line there is a zone of tremendous hydro-thermal activity. Here one may boat for two miles along geyser-pitted cliffs, strangely painted by chemical action. The cliffs are steaming from lakeside to skyline, and thousands of warm vapour-wreaths curl like white smoke into the upper air. Nor is the heat confined to the cliffs. The water on which you are floating is boiling in many places, and here and there you feel below your boat the thump of water-hidden geysers.
Other lakes there are, and these, to one's mind, more entrancing than wondrous and fearsome Roto-mahana. The great charm of some of them, especially Okataina, is the rich and lovely forest which covers so much of the shore. I have seen nothing finer around our North Island lakes, even Waikaremoana, than the cliff-climbing forest of pohutukawa trees on the western shore of Okataina. For nearly a thousand feet, from waterline to skyline, it clothes the mountain side, and glorious indeed it is in the midsummer season of bush flowers.
Then there is Rotoiti, about which a book could be written; there are also those lakes of the woods, Rotoehu and Rotoma, true places of enchantment, all within a few hours' car run of Rotorua town. And in forest drives there is nothing in our land to excel in fragrant solemn beauty the three miles avenue through the rimu woods between Rotoiti and the north end of Okataina. It is a wild poem, a picture of the real New Zealand, that should be treasured as one of the most precious things of our country.
Across the Great Mamaku Plateau.
(Rly. Publicity. Photo.)
The Auckland-Rotorua “Limited Express” ascending the Mamaku Hill, on the last stage of the run to Rotorua.
This, the first collection of New Zealand short stories, is quite a noteworthy production that testifies alike to the enterprise of the publishers (J. M. Dent and Sons, Ltd., London), and to the catholic taste and genuine industry of the editor, Mr. O. N. Gillespie.
In a provocative preface the editor ventures to explain his assertion that, by contrast, the stories lack “any National outlook or distinctive atmosphere,” by a statement (already combated in the New Zealand Railways Magazine by “
The type of story that is conspicuous by its absence from this collection is the story of action and adventure. No cavalier ruffles, no cowboy rustles, no strong right arm is up lifted, either to strike or to caress, in these (must I say it?) somewhat listless pages. Even Hinemoa does virtually all her swimming “off the stage,” and the only “close-ups” show her resting on a snag or trembling with modesty at the thoughts of meeting Tutanekai. Certainly Dulcie Deamer unfolds a strong man who sets out to cow his half-tamed woman in a sure-enough cave, where they devour their half-cooked meat, and kill, with clubs and spears, alike the lordly lion and the lioness “that was infinitely more dangerous than the lion.” The woman was duly impressed, and came to heel, but this critic detected a somewhat exotic, nay an actually foreign atmosphere in only this one tale in the book. Not only are none of the various characters that we read of in the stories “robustious,” few of them are even robust. This, I am convinced, is the lack of “national atmosphere” which the editor gropingly deplores; and this, too, is the groundwork for the Bulletin's vague and formless criticism which is summed up in the half-admiring adjective “glossy.” I will come back to “glossy,” but hasten to express my own surprise that a collection of New Zealand short stories contains only one or two wherein “the native hue of resolution” is not “sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.” In this land of mountains and torrents, of wild winds and tumultuous waves, of Rugby football and fiercer Soccer, of Bob Fitzsimmons, Randolph Rose, and Dick Seddon, surely the reverse might have been expected.
Still more unexpected is the admirable “technique” of nearly all the stories in this collection. It may be objected by a captious critic that many of the authors have very little story to tell, but no one can dispute the beauty, finish and artistry of the telling. A striking
There are thirty-two stories in the book, all readable, four or five undoubtedly poorer than the others. The stories contain farce, humour, wit, tenderness, and pathos, and we are indebted to Mr. Gillespie for his siftings. The pre-eminent virtues of the best stories in this book are (following Cabell again) distinction, clarity, beauty, symmetry, and truth; but that quality which is salt to all the others is. I fear, missing—that quality is “gusto.”
That explains why I have reviewed this collection with such gusto. The plain truth is that this collection of New Zealand short stories is a very striking anthology, and that its literary merit goes far towards making it an outstanding book, even in an age which suffers from an “embarras des riches” in this direction. One may cavil at the editor's choice here or there; one may be disappointed that New Zealanders are not writing a more robust type of story; but no one can deny that this book proves that New Zealanders are writing a certain type of story superlatively well.
Through the Southern Alps, South Island, New Zealand.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A goods train near the Otira tunnel, on the electrified section of the Midland Line.
Britian, Sdaughty Rugby Warriors Now Couring New Zealand
M.A., Dip. Ed.)W. S. Dale ,
In the following instalment of Mr. Dale's series of articles on Modern Industrial Psychology, interesting reference is made to experiments in methods of standardisation, and in motion study, in relation to increased production.
It is, apparently, very easy to schedule and route work, as explained in the previous article, but it is, in point of fact, merely the preliminary survey, if methods of manufacture, modes of procedure, and kindred problems have not been sifted, strained and standardised. From a restricted survey in this country, it is the writer's opinion that from this aspect factory technique is still behind the standard attained in factories both in the Old World and in America. I have noted facts where the Railway Workshops have, to a considerable degree, secured this standardisation with some excellent results, as output schedules will show. This is obtained, however, only by adopting new methods of work in direct correlation with motion study, micromotion study, cyclegraph studies and chronocyclegraph records. This formidable array of technical terms arose as the result of studies in early scheduling, and their use will be apparent as soon as the problem is examined in all its bearings.
Before the foreman can schedule time spent upon any phase of the “job” or contract, he must make a careful analysis of it. A reference was made to “clocking” the employee, that is, checking the amount of time taken to perform a series of movements necessary to complete the work. This is taken with a stopwatch. It is, nevertheless, insufficient, for it includes the time taken over movements which are, in themselves, unnecessary, or, technically “aimless.” (See illustration No. 2 A.) This is due to lack of analysis therefore, and for this very reason psychologists stepped in with motion studies. Each set of movements is analysed into the simplest single motions which from part of the whole process. These motions are timed, and a large number of “times” are averaged to give a fairly standard result. To the average person this may sound unimportant, but with a split-second watch there is the time of stopping the watch, the time used in connection with handling machinery, and the “human” factor which, at best, is not infallible. To make allowances for these divergences, the average time for the same movement is taken as against one “clocking.” At the same time it will be evident what is meant by waste or aimless movement if we consider how a hand is moved across the body. It may be moved straight across, across lower down, say just above the knees or breast high. It is plain that the movement in a straight line will be quicker in point of time, and less fatiguing over a period of time. The aim is to scrap wasteful movements. The problem at once arises: How can this be done? The best workman may not, necessarily, be using the straightest movements. Because his output is in advance of that of others it does not necessarily follow that he is using perfect motion. Research indicated all sorts of imperfections, so that it was on the movements of the best worker, when corrected, that the earlier motion methods were based.
It soon became manifest that forms of movement could not be recorded with sufficient precision by merely observing them. It became necessary to record these so that recourse was made to the cinematograph, and a Gilbreth clock, which registers extremely minute divisions of time, smaller than the elapsed time between any two pictures of the film. Gilbreth himself stated that this method enabled him to record easily, motions down to less than a ten-thousandth of a minute. The obvious result is freedom from error, guessing, and the personal element. Here again the psychologist baulked. True, the workman could see himself at work, but it was still relatively difficult to teach from such a record. At the same time there were inherent difficulties, such as the workman obscuring
To overcome these drawbacks use was made of the “cyclegraph.” This apparatus consists of a small electric light attached to the hands, or any other member involved in the process. A photographic plate or film is exposed throughout the time the motion is being studied, with the result that a path of light resembling a white wire is seen upon the plate. This white line represents the motions used during the observed process. Later it was used with a stereoscopic camera to show the path in three dimensions. This record, however, lacks the time element. It is quite impossible to know from this record the time occupied in the motion. There came the difficulty of correlating time and motion, which earlier investigations had combined. This defect was then overcome by using a tuning fork, which, vibrating at a known speed, was connected with a “make and break” contact. This device gave the motion in dashes, and as each dash represented a definite space of time, any portion, or even the complete motion could be determined in a time name. (See illustration No. 2 B.) It further indicated the relative speed of different parts of the motion. It will at once appear that dashes in close proximity indicate quicker movement than those with a greater distance between.
All difficulties were not yet overcome, however. It was still necessary to determine direction of movement and length of such motion. To aid in detection of these factors, Gilbreth made use of additional material, and called the unit a chronocyclegraph. The direction was noted on the plate by means of arrow-heads. (See illustration No. 2 C.) These pointed in the direction of the path travelled from the point of origin. It was now possible to measure time motion and direction. To record the distance was less easy, and involved the use of the “penetrating screen.” The space to be photographed was backed by a large sheet of black paper cross-sectioned with white lines at predetermined distances from each other, and then photographed on the spot where movements were to be studied. When exposed, the plate was removed and then used a second time to record the moving light. When developed the negative showed a “motion curve” on a background of cross-sections. (See illustration No. 2 D.) The spatial distance between the intersecting lines was already known, so that to calculate the distance travelled presented no difficulty. By this method we can now check four “variables” as they are termed, namely, length of movement, relative speed, time and direction of movement. (See illustration No. 1.) Using a suitable camera, we are thus able to view the whole process on three dimensions.
The latest extension on Gilbreth's idea is the “construction of a wire model based upon the cross-sectioned chronocyclegraph record. This shews the motion in three dimensions, and attempts to reproduce the precise length of the original movement and each of its parts. On this model are shewn also the arrow heads, so that from it the movement can be studied in as favourable a form as possible.”
Illustration No. 1.
(Gilbreth Fatigue Study.)
Typical chronocyclegraph of the motion of a bricklayer, laying three bricks by the old method.
The explanation of these processes will no doubt cause the average employer to question the utility of the chronocyclegraph records (or even to ask why bother with such refinements?) holding that such minute details are not of practical use. However, the conclusions drawn from such studies in the workshops mean more work in less time, with less fatiguing results. The best known example which occurs at the moment is that of chocolate dipping. The preliminary investigations shewed a tremendous waste of motion in coating chocolate centres. The movements were reduced to, I think, six, and an immensely greater output resulted. Similar experiments were made in a certain well-known English soap factory. One instance will show the utility of these researches.
The psychologist will analyse your processes and teach the workmen the new motions. This brings us to the next phase in organisation for schedules, namely, new “work methods.”
Every workman has his own idea of how things ought to be done, and every shop has a tradition in respect to methods of work; these two factors taken into conjunction make it difficult to introduce new ideas. Recently an employee complained that if he were allowed to work along his own lines, as he did formerly, he could do “just as much if not more.” Granted that it would be so on broadest lines, the small matters would be unrealised, and often these are omitted in the analysis. If the foreman plans, then he must work to that plan without divergence. This entails “best way.” methods in order to keep to schedule. For this reason, in addition to motion studies, standardisation has been largely accepted as another axiom, agreeing, of course, with the belief that fatigue will reduce the output. To overcome this difficulty and enable the worker to earn more wages (if it is piecework) compulsory rest periods have been introduced.
Dr. Taylor's example is so well known that it will be given briefly. A large steel corporation in U.S.A. employed seventy unskilled labourers to carry pig-iron up an inclined plank and tip it into a waiting truck. The average amount shifted per worker per day was 12 1/2 tons. Pigiron was a cheap commodity, but the method of handling it was cumbersome, so Taylor was asked to investigate. At once he put his finger on the weakness. He showed the futility of saying a man was working only when carrying iron. Energy was being continuously expended in walking, lifting and even standing motionless with the iron “up.” He thereupon standardised the procedure of lifting and carrying. Next he broke the day up into work spells and rest pauses, so that in actual fact the men worked, as the average employer understands the term, only 43 per cent. of the day unit, when the pigiron weighed 92lbs. By decreasing the weight of the pig-iron by 50 per cent. he discovered that 58 per cent. of the unit was worked. The combination of motion study and rest pauses of ten minutes after seven minutes work increased the output from the original figure to 47 1/2 tons per man per day. This was practically a 400 per cent. increase, with less exertion than had been used formerly. This example does not, of course, indicate that men should do this form of work, machinery could do it much more easily, but it gives point to method.
(After Muscio.)
(A) Represents the general character of a cyclegraph record shewing motion only; (B) is the motion record timed by a vibrating tuning fork. (The dashes represent a pre-determined interval.) (C) Shews the motion time and direction of the motion (note blunt arrow heads); (D) a complete chronocyclegraph as screened out by Gilbreth to shew motion, time, direction and length of motion.
The next example is that of a light occupation, namely, that of folding handkerchiefs. The method formerly in use was to have the workers seated at low tables in chairs of ordinary heights. The girls were paid at piece rates, so that they had rest only when going for fresh material or took finished products, together with a short pause for dinner. An intensive study of the problem was made in order to increase output as well as to provide better working conditions, so that the girls could earn more with less fatigue. To bring this about, the tables were raised to give a minimum effort in reaching for material. The handkerchiefs were kept in three piles, namely, those unfolded, those being
The output was three times what it had been before the reorganisation. Moreover, the observers noted about the girls an alertness which formerly was missing; they showed more interest in their work, and yet gave proofs of less fatigue, despite a 300 per cent. increase in output.
The last example is one given by the Munition Ministry's “Industrial Fatigue and its Causes.” A foundry, in which the workers were paid piece rates, was engaged on munition work. The management decided upon rest pauses, much to the disgust of the workers, who feared a loss in wages. It was decided that the moulders should rest a quarter of each hour. At first it was considered by the employees as an attack on their wages, involving a substantial decrease. Their argument was, of course, that shorter hours would involve less work, and hence less pay. After some time had elapsed, however, the moulders' pay indicated, in the modest words of the report, “a substantial increase in output.”
I think enough has been written to show that pauses do not hinder output, rather, they indicate an increase. That this is so is realised by clothing and shirt factories, where work is carried out only on five days a week. The obvious error is, however, found in the assumption that a long spell will overcome the accumulated effects of half-an-hour's extra work per day. This is an entirely erroneous assumption, and is far from scientific in its application. It would be better, perhaps, to keep to five days a week, but institute pauses during the day in combination with movements taught from motion study research.
A Group of Smiling Faces at a Recent Railway Picnic.
(Photo, V. A. Stapleton, Wanganui.)
A snap taken at the Marton Junction (North Island) railway employees picnic, 1930.
The Opening Game of the Tour.
(Railway Publicity photos.)
The visiting British Rugby team won the opening game of its tour by defeating Wanganui (at Wanganui) by 19 points to 3. The illustrations shew: (1) The British team; (2) T. C. Knowles (Great Britain) is well tackled. J. C. Morley in support; (3) J. C. Morley (Great Britain) takes a pass, but is well marked; (4) W. H. Sobey (Great Britain) gets his pass away before being tackled by G. Walden (Wanganui); (5) A portion of the crowd; (6) P. Prince (Wanganui) makes a run; (7) The Press Table; (8) C. D. Aarvold (Great Britain) gets his pass, away to A. L. Novis; (9) P. Prince (Wanganui) attempts to break through; (10) T. C. Knowles (Great Britain) in action;. A. L. Novis in support; C. D. Aarvold well grassed; (11) The Wanganui team.
Wellington Public Libraries.
Incidents Throughout the Game.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
From the above views, it may be seen that the game played between Great Britain and Wanganui was interesting and exciting. The illustrations shew:—(1) The Wanganui half-back (J. Duncan) breaks away from a scrum, while W. H. Sobey (Great Britain) is about to intercept; (2) the Wanganui full-back (D. Thompson) gathers in the ball; (3) a struggle for possession in a line-out; (4) T. C. Knowles (Great Britain) breaks through, with J. C. Morley in support; (5) I. Jones (Great Britain) saves from a Wanganui attack; (6) B. H. Black (Great Britain) place-kicking; (7) forming a scrum.
)Tangiwai .
A writer who has lately done much scrambling about the Southern Alps describes Mt. Tasman as “New Zealand's finest mountain.” Such an opinion is clearly open to contradiction. Tasman's shape undoubtedly is beautiful, but Aorangi is more commanding, besides being a trifle loftier; and Tasman is closely neighboured by many other peaks, all of which attract the eye. Probably the grandest sight in the Alps, apart from the great glaciers, is the vast rugged wall of Aorangi as seen from the Hooker Valley.
But for sheer beauty of outline and all the landscape qualities one could wish to see in a perfect mountain, the present writer turns to Taranaki.
Mount Egmont is really a peerless peak. It is not dwarfed by other mountains, it does not lose in effect by rising from an alpine chain with a hundred other peaks. Swelling up in shapely dignity from the plains and the seafront belt of land, and belted about with rich forests, like a garment, it climbs in the delicious sweeping curves that only volcanic cones show, to an altitude only three thousand feet less than Tasman's. There is not a peak in the South Island that can compare in these qualities of satisfying symmetry with our ancient fire-mountains of the North. Taranaki must remain the perfect type of the high places of the earth—at any rate our sector of it.
There are not many old folk surviving to tell of the memorable voyage they made to New Zealand in the pioneer ship of the Canterbury settlers, the little “Charlotte Jane,” eighty years ago. One of the proud band of pioneers lives in Nelson, Mrs. Helen Anderson, who celebrated her ninety-second birthday lately. Her father helped to make history in infant Christchurch, for he was the printer for Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald, who founded the “Lyttelton Times,” now the “Christchurch Times.” As she was a girl of twelve on the voyage, Mrs. Anderson, no doubt, can recall the singing of the celebrated ditty of the deep, the “Night Watch Song of the Charlotte Jane,” written by Mr. Fitzgerald. The song begins: “’Tis the first watch of the night, brothers, And the strong wind rides the deep.”
The musical score has been preserved, and the chant of the pioneers deserves to be kept well in memory, as an anthem of nation-making expressing the high hopes and the spirit of strong endeavour and comradeship that distinguished above most bodies of immigrants that ship's company of the adventurous barkey with the homely old name.
A flaxcutter died in the Manawatu district the other day from a terrible gash in the back of his neck made by his slash-hook while cutting
A Gala Day on a Beautiful Southern Lake.
The Railway Department's lake steamer “Earnslaw” conveying over 600 Invercargill excursionists to the head of Lake Wakatipu, South Island, New Zealand.
And even the domestic axe is capable of inflicting a nasty cut. Don't, if you value your neck or your home reputation for good temper, don't chop the household firewood anywhere near a clothes-line. All the chances are that you will deliver a mighty sweeping blow that will just catch that line, and if nothing worse happens your nerves will be frayed more than a trifle.
A little story about Otorohanga, on the North Island Main Trunk line, the tale of the most daring piece of work in the history of tracking down criminals in New Zealand. There was a Maori named Winiata who in the late 'seventies tomahawked a fell-worker named Packer, on a farm at Epsom, near Auckland, over a dispute about money which the pakeha owed him. Winiata fled to the King Country, skilfully evading the Waikato police, and for several years he lived a free life in the Maori territory, where no policeman was allowed in those days. The Queen's writ did not run there till after 1883. The police, however, did not forget the wanted man; there was a standing Government reward of £500 for his arrest. He did not venture into their frontier townships.
A big half-caste named Robert Barlow, a powerful, fearless fellow, went to Police Inspector McGovern, of Hamilton, one day, and offered to try his hand at bringing in Winiata from the Ngata-Maniapoto country. McGovern and Sergeant Gillies, of Te Awamutu (afterwards Inspector in Christchurch) fixed up a scheme with Barlow, and off the big frontiersman rode to carry it out. His plan was bold and exceedingly risky. Winiata was known to carry a loaded revolver always, and he was surrounded by friends and sympathisers. Barlow did not hurry matters. He rode leisurely from one settlement to another, with his wife; the pair led a spare horse. The man-hunter professed to be a pig-buyer, having heard that Winiata trafficked in the poaka. They met in a house at
As the night went on Barlow produced a bottle of rum—which had been well “doped” by a chemist in a frontier town. Winiata, at first suspicious, fell into the waipiro trap, and presently was oblivious to pigs and everything else. The other people in the house were asleep, and Barlow and his wife contrived to get their man outside, after removing a revolver which he wore under his shirt. (Barlow, too, had a revolver in his clothes.) They dumped him on the led horse, and tied him fast; then they rode off through the midnight hours—always expecting to be chased—along through the fern and swamps, forded the Puniu River, and reached Kihikihi, the first township across the border, a little before daylight, after a ride of about sixteen miles.
Winiata by this time was wide awake to his plight, and there was a desperate struggle on the road in front of Corboy's publichouse. The Armed Constabulary, in the redoubt nearby, were aroused, Winiata was overpowered and chained to an iron bedstead in the barrack-room. A few weeks later he was hanged in Mt. Eden gaol, and Barlow collected his £500 reward, with which he bought a farm at Mangere, near Auckland.
Where the Main Trunk line crosses the Mokau River, about midway between Te Kuiti and the Poro-o-Tarao, that stream is an insignificant one, narrow and winding slowly between fern banks from its birthplace near the Rangitoto Ranges. Lower down it becomes a navigable river, for canoes and motor launches at any rate. It was a famous waterway in olden days.
It was the only road into the interior in that part of the country, so rugged and forest-covered. The early missionaries used it; there was a station of the Lutheran Church people away up at Motu-karamu, near Totoro, nearly ninety years ago. Percy Smith and Wilson Hursthouse, the pioneer surveyors, came up this way from Taranaki seventy-two years ago—then adventurous youths; they crossed the present route of the Main Trunk somewhere near Mangapeehi station on their way to Lake Taupo. Little did Hursthouse foresee in those rough times that he would be one of the planners of the railway through this heart of the King Country.
Even at this time of day the beauties of the Mokau are little known, because of the snags and rapids which impede navigation above the old coal mines. There is a place where the present writer once camped, on a canoeing expedition, on a little island between rapids, at the Panirau bend, where the forest-clad ranges, almost as steep as a wall, make a magnificent canyon. The ranges here run up to a thousand feet and more above the river.
One of the Chief Sources of New Zealand's Wealth.
Southdowns at Mr. Dysart's farm, Marlborough Province, South Island.
(5) Many troubles result from the use of unsuitable methods of oil application, and from failure to give the required attention in order to maintain a sufficient uniform supply of the oil. The effectiveness of hand oiling depends on the attendant. The oil is applied periodically in a quantity greater than is necessary for the momentary need, much of the oil escaping from the bearing without rendering service. Commonly the period between hand oilings is so great that lubrication becomes inadequate, and with neglect a condition of actual non-lubrication occurs. Drop feed oilers, although far superior to hand oiling, do not give a uniform feed, and may at any time become clogged and cease to provide lubrication. Drop feed oilers may be replaced by bottle oilers on small bearings and by wick-feed oilers on large bearings, with improved reliability and economy of lubrication. Whatever the method of oil application, neglect with regard to supply or cleanliness is certain to lead to trouble sooner or later.
(6) The mechanical conditions, the operating conditions, and the lubricant used must conform one to the other in order that correct lubrication may be accomplished. A bearing once correctly lubricated may become incorrectly lubricated through a change in either the conditions or the lubricant.
The use of an oil, too light or too heavy in body for the existing mechanical and operating conditions, is one of the most common sources of bearing trouble that can be ascribed to the lubricant. For low speeds, heavy pressures, and poor film-forming conditions, the heavier-bodied oils are required; since a light-bodied oil would be squeezed out from the pressure area and fail to maintain a complete oil film. High speeds, light pressures, and good film-forming conditions call for oils of lighter body. The use of an oil too heavy in body results in excessive fluid friction and heating of the bearing.
Oil quality not suited to the service is also a frequent cause of trouble. Failure to use the special grades in a circulation or splash system will lead to breakdown of the oil film and the ultimate failure of lubrication. Where special conditions of high or low temperatures exist, the oil selected must have the specific qualities demanded for the service.
The use of a pure mineral oil for wet bearings may result in failure of the oil film, because the mineral oil will not adhere to a wet surface. Correctly compounded oils of suitable body should be used for this purpose. Heavy-bodied compounded oils are frequently advantageous in bearings subjected to excessive loads, on account of the strong adhesive properties resulting from compounding.
The use of grease on bearings subjected to high speeds and moderate loads, frequently leads to excessive film friction and high bearing temperatures. This effect is the same as that of using an oil with a body that is much too heavy.
Troubles caused by the use of an unsuitable lubricant are the result of failure to observe the principles set forth in earlier parts of this article. The application of these principles, through a correct analysis of the mechanical and operating conditions involved, will lead to the selection of the correct lubricants, and the avoidance of bearing troubles.
Two bottle oilers mounted on bearings where cleanliness is demanded.
Where it is essential that machinery be kept in continuous operation, it is of value to know how bearing troubles may be relieved temporarily while the real cause of the trouble is being removed. These emergency measures should not be relied upon for continuous service, as they do not overcome the cause of the trouble. A hot bearing is one whose temperature rises materially above its normal operating temperature from any of the causes previously described, leading to excessive friction and heat generation. Such a condition is often unstable, in that, unless the cause is corrected, friction and heat generation continue each to augment the other until a destructive temperature is reached.
When a small bearing heats up, it is not difficult to cool, as the total amount of heat present in the bearings is relatively small. Usually a liberal supply of oil is all that is required. When a large bearing becomes heated, a greater quantity of heat must be dissipated. The relatively small clearance in a large bearing tends to make it more sensitive to damage due to heating. The first thing to do when a large bearing heats is to increase the bearing brasses. If the bearing has not seized, but is extremely hot, it is usually sufficient to feed a liberal supply of steam cylinder oil (which possesses superior lubricating qualities at high temperatures) until the bearing cools, when normal oiling practice may be gradually resumed.
If a bearing has begun to seize, a little graphite or sulphur mixed with cylinder oil may be used to advantage. Castor oil and rapeseed oil are sometimes used for cooling bearings.
The use of cylinder oil or other emergency lubricants, in a circulation system, should be avoided. Where this system of lubrication is employed and a hot bearing is experienced, it is generally necessary to stop the machine and open up the bearing to find and remove the cause; this may be foreign matter in the bearing, or stoppage of the oil flow through obstructiions or bad joints.
In large circulation systems it is common practice to provide an oil cooler, by which the oil temperature is reduced before it returns to the bearings. In this case, a bearing that tends to heat may be cooled by increasing the flow of oil through it. The circulating oil is then both a lubricating and a cooling medium.
Bearings may often be cooled by water, which should be applied, if possible, to the shaft, near the bearing, and under no circumstance to the bearing; as, in the latter case, the shrinkage of the bearing around the heated and expanded shaft may result in seizure.
Christchurch Railway Goods Cricket Club.
Back row (left to right): Messrs. W. H. K. Catling. J. R. Hannah, G. P. O'Callaghan, E. V. R. Douthett, H. W. Babbege. Middle row: L. G. Evans, C. J. Rice, A. G. Hurst, L. R. Hood. Front row: E. Boland, W. C. Aitken (President), T. G. Warren (Captain), A. H. Burt (Hon. Sec.), J. H. Kerr.
The correct lubrication of bearings, however, is not merely the avoidance of bearing troubles. Its effects are more far-reaching; reducing repair and replacement costs, cutting down power bills, and increasing the production of every machine in amounts that often constitute the difference between loss and profits.
If it were necessary for each operator to investigate in detail and learn the principles of correct lubrication from the ground up, the price would be prohibitive. This work, however, has been done. The facts are presented herein as fully as space will permit.
In its entirely, the subject of correct lubrication has been mastered completely by no individual. In so far as the problem has been solved, it has been the composite work of many, and the complete solution is only possible by the closest co-operation of operating and lubrication engineers who are making a special study of this phase of mechanical engineering.
Told ByLeo Fanning
It is a merry party—the feast of reason, the flow of soul, and so on. Joy abounds, with ripples, peals, and rumbles of laughter, according to the sex, age, and temperament of the happy folk. Suddenly the air is chill and heavy; bright eyes lose their sparkle; buoyancy subsides in limpness. Mr. Bromide has intruded—Mr. Bromide of the putty face, the leaden brow, the lack-lustre eye, and thick, sticky speech. He is a sapper—the deadliest of the bore tribe—and he wilts the assembly as quickly as the summer sun frazzles a fallen rose.
* * *
A few years ago, before women's hair, jazz, wireless, the “sex appeal,” strong drink, and other trifles caught so much space in the papers, some of the bigger things had a run in print, and among them was the subject of positives and negatives (inspirers or sappers or sulphides and bromides) in human types. The discussion went far enough to provoke an American to write a book entitled: “Are You a Bromide?” (which this commentator has not read). This was a polite way of asking: Are you a leaning tower of poison? Are you two ton of stodge? Are you the inhuman embodiment of the deadly nightshade? Are you an incentive to suicide (or murder) in the other fellow? The sulphide is, of course the opposite of the bromide.
* * *
All humanity is divided into three parts—the positives, the negatives, and the neutrals. The positives are comparatively few, the negatives are numerous, and the neutrals are the vast majority. The neutral may become occasionally positive or negative, the positive may lapse now and then into negativeness, but the born negative can never be a positive; once a negative always a negative. The bromide can no more be a sulphide than a cow can be a professor of psychology—which is well for the cow, and well for the world.
What is a sulphide or positive? This is like asking: What is electricity? What is the sap of plants? What is the irresistible force that overcomes an immovable object? The whole of the world's drive in arts and crafts, in peace and war, in religion, in all forms of virtue and vice, has come, of course, from the positives. The greatest patriots and the basest traitors have been positives, whose numbers include some truly terrible persons.
* * *
There are mild, medium, and full-strength sulphides. The world needs the full-strength types for big business, but they can be very disturbing to people near them. For ordinary workaday life the mild or medium positive is enough. He does not assert himself too much: he does not drive too hard; he does not over-whelm you with his restless energy.
* * *
The ideal sulphide, socially is one between the mild and the medium—never tepid, never tame, but never overdoing the radiant effect. This is the sulphide of charm—natural charm, which is as different from the artificial simulation as a camp-fire is from a brilliant painting of a glowing hearth. There is no hope of getting this charm from a brush or a bottle, a stocking, or a garter.
* * *
The world's tremendous sulphides have been mostly men, but the majority of the mild and medium grades are women, whose charm continues to inspire humanity. This is the charm which is the saving grace of the world—but, alas, it is not always exercised for good. Yet that is the way with all things. No manufacturer ever made revolvers or razors for the express purpose of suicide or murder.
Men sometimes wonder why one of them—a fellow regarded as ugly, as the Apollo standard goes—seems to be a favourite among women. There is no mystery in this to the women. The man is a sulphide; he has charm. Woman is as naturally attracted to the sulphide man as man is to the sulphide woman. It is a case of the needle and the magnet, the scrap of paper and the electrified amber, the bee and the flower, or other similes which the psychologists or psychometrists can suggest.
* * *
The old proverb, “Birds of a feather flock together,” applies to sulphides, but not to bromides. No bromide will deliberately seek the company of another bromide, but clings as instinctively to a sulphide as woolly aphis does to the apple tree. When you see a bromide woman marrying a bromide you know that he is not her first love; far from it. She has tried for many sulphides, but they have escaped.
* * *
Some sulphides are vexingly inconsistent. The basic sulphide nature is always in them, as gold is in a reef, but it is not always visible. Such sulphides are radiant by fits and starts. They are like fires of shavings—beautiful flares for a few moments, and then ashes. Some of the better sulphides are like log fires, and others like the steady glow of lignite.
* * *
Some persons who are unlovingly termed “very positive” are merely noisy bromides, ill-tempered negatives. Others, who are not querulous, have a fussy activity which they imagine is helpful energy. Their ill-ordered, aimless hustle or bustle can be as exasperating as the uproar of that most diabolical contraption, the motor-cycle. Yet there can be a temporarily successful mimicry of the sulphide by the bromide—but no bromide can sulphide all the people all the time, as many a bromide politician has learned, to his sorrow.
* * *
Naturally no bromide ever believes he is a bromide, although his instinct is to seek the sulphide. Perhaps he believes it is a case of like to like. The bore believes that he is an intensely interesting person, and he feels that he has a call to make life interesting for others. However, the human bromide or negative has his uses in the world just as the drug bromide has in medicine. The human bromide is the brake on the wheel, the water in the whisky, the bread or sawdust in the sausage, the chicory in the coffee—a necessary or unnecessary diluent or adulterant in many things—but who can be blamed for trying to dodge him?
* * *
When a sulphide masquerades as a bromide, look out. It is admitted everywhere that the world's best business brains are in London. Does the English money magnate look like a sulphide? Report saith that he can look like a petrified tuatara. He pretends to be a bromide golliwog, inert, formally polite, apparently dull and stupid—and thus he outwits the Hebrew, the Scot, yea, even the Irish. The sulphide's most subtle feat is this cool assumption of bromidism.
Members of the British Rugby football team photographed on the Rangitata on the way out to New Zealand.
In handling continental business at London, traffic to and from Holland looms large. There are few more attractive corners of Europe at this period of the year than low-lying Holland, land of dykes and bulb-farms. Owing to the comparatively flat nature of the country traversed, railway operation in this quaint land is not a very difficult proposition. There are in all about 2,400 miles of railway opened for traffic in Holland, and of this mileage about one-half is government owned. Leases of government owned lines are held by two private companies—the Holland Iron Railway and the Company for Exploitation of State Railways—both of which themselves also own important stretches of track.
Holland is fortunate in the possession of many attractive railway stations, among which the Central Station in Amsterdam stands supreme. The noble proportions of this great terminal, the beauty of its stately front, and the great sweep of its semi-circular glass roof, all hold tremendous appeal. Recently Holland has interested herself in railway electrification, and has electrified the tracks connecting Amsterdam with the great port of Rotterdam, via Delft, Leyden and Haarlem. The 1,500 volt D.C. system is favoured, with overhead conductor. Passenger trains are worked on the multiple-unit principle, each train normally consisting of two motor cars and three trailer cars. The total weight of each train is 250 tons, and, on the level, high speeds are attained. The equipment for this electrification has largely been supplied by English makers.—(From our London Correspondent.)
(For
N.Z. Railways Magazine by H. Collett.)
How The Early Settlers Solved a Big Transport Problem
(Continued.)
When the Canterbury Provincial Council again assembled on 10th October, 1854, legislation defining the financial position of the province had been passed by the General Assembly, and this enabled the Provincial Government to proceed with its activities with a clear understanding of its resources. It was decided to undertake a scheme of immigration to supply the much needed labour, and to appoint an Engineer to plan and superintend the details of the various Public Works. Mr. R. J. S. Harman was appointed Emigration Officer in London, and Mr. Edward Dobson, Provincial Engineer.
Forty-Six Years Ago.
Mr. Neil Douglas, Stationmaster, Otautau, Southland, 1884 (afterwards Chief Traffic Manager in Western Australia.)
Public petitions were presented to the Council praying immediate consideration of the question of providing a road between Lyttelton and the interior, and pointing out the serious obstacle the absence of such means of communication presented to the progress of the province and the development of its export trade. On 10th November the Council had before it notice of a resolution to the effect, that, after consideration of the various plans the Council was of opinion that the Sumner road, as recommended by the Commission, was the best under the circumstances, and that the construction of this road should proceed with the greatest possible expedition. When called upon, however, the mover of the resolution asked permission to withdraw it, and this permission was given.
Commander Byron Drury, of H.M. Survey Ship “Pandora,” reported upon the navigation of the Avon and Heathcote rivers, and in course of this report stated that, from previous knowledge of similar works, he was of opinion that the result of filling in the rocks at Sumner was very doubtful, and he did not recommend that work. He suggested, however, that navigation could be improved by the use of a small steamer (which could reach a point on the Heathcote within two miles of Christchurch). In submitting this report to the Council on 27th December the Superintendent stated that he did not conceive that the Council would wish him to propose any vote for the improvement of the Sumner bar in the course of the present year, but he had invited offers for one or more steamers to run between the Port and the Plains, with assistance from the Government. At the same time he requested the Council to consider again the question of constructing the Sumner road. The Commission, he pointed out, was composed of engineers of unquestioned ability, and their opinions were entitled to far more weight than those of any other persons. The Commission was unanimous regarding the best line of road, and it would be unwise to depart from the decision made by them after ample survey of the whole country. The Provincial Engineer had expressed the opinion that, by a modification of the plans, a road, sufficient for the needs of the province for a few years, could be provided for £12,000, and completed in one year, leaving to a future time the work necessary to make the permanent road of full width throughout. A detailed survey was necessary, but this survey would not be made if the road was not to be undertaken. It was pointed out that, if the summer was allowed
A survey was accordingly made, and an amended plan prepared, showing a much improved alignment, with the tunnel, 270 feet below the summit. Apart from the time required for the survey and the preparation of plans, the construction work was delayed owing to the want of labour pending the arrival of the immigrants from England.
Pioneers of the Service.
Mr. J. Campbell, Stationmaster, Winton, Southland, 1882.
This was the position when the Provincial Council met in its fourth session on 11th April, 1855. The Suprintendent, in his opening address, referred to the public misapprehension on the subject of the Sumner road. He stated that he entirely agreed with those who thought a railway between Lyttelton and Christchurch necessary to develop the resources of the province, and he believed that in a few years they would be in a position to undertake the work, but, in the meantime, they possessed neither means nor credit, public or private, for so large an undertaking. To undertake work far beyond their present means would be ruinous not only to that work, but also to future operations. On the other hand, the formation of a cart road from the Port into the interior would hasten the time when the province would be able to construct the railway, while the cost of the road was only a small fraction of the sum required for a railway. He was happy to say that, after careful and detailed survey and estimate, a road of full width throughout could be opened at a cost of about £12,000, and that the road now determined upon was the best that could be made. It was not only the cheapest in actual cost, but immeasurably the cheapest as regards advantages. Now that preparations were complete the work would be prosecuted with the utmost expedition.
The financial statement of the provinces for the year ended 31st March, 1855, showed the revenue as £29,028, which included receipts of £24,000 from land, and £3,450 from Customs. The expenditure was £19,118, and the credit balance on hand £11,703.
In closing the session on 10th July, the Superintendent stated that it was expected four ships with immigrants would arrive before the end of the year.
The Provincial Government had some experience of the extent of its credit in London, when, in consequence of some delay in the despatch of funds, it was found impossible to negotiate bills payable in the colony. But for the timely assistance of Mr. J. R. Godley and Mr. H. Selfe, the immigrant ships could not have been despatched.
Mr. Godley had returned to England when the affairs of Canterbury passed to the control of the Provincial Government, and he became English Agent for the province until he accepted a position under the Imperial Government. Mr. Selfe succeeded him as English Agent for Canterbury.
In October, 1855, a petition was presented to the Provincial Council by certain inhabitants of Canterbury praying that the Superintendent devote the sums then at his disposal for work on the Sumner road, to the laying down of a wooden tramway between Christchurch and the Shag Rock (Sumner), and that a Bill be introduced for the raising of a loan, by the sale of public debentures, the loan to be devoted to the completion of the Sumner road. Counter petitions were presented by the inhabitants of Lyttelton and Akaroa protesting against any such diversion of the funds available. A resolution was moved in the Council proposing the construction of the wooden tramway, but the motion was not carried. By a vote of 15 to 3 the Council declared in favour of the metalled cart road.
About this time the province had some disagreement with the General Government regarding the division of the land revenue on which
Meantime there was grave public dissatisfaction at the delay in completing the Sumner road. Some excellent work had been done, but the tunnel under Evans Pass, which was the principal feature of the scheme, had not been commenced. There was a strong body of opinion in favour of employing steam lighters to convey goods between ships at Lyttelton and the various coastal ports. The wreck, on her first trip, of the steamer “Alma,” on the Sumner bar, somewhat discouraged this opinion, but the main opposition came from those having interests in Lyttelton, who saw the possibility of the diversion of trade from the port.
On 4th November, 1856, a Bill was introduced in the Provincial Council providing for the contruction of a railway from Christchurch to Sumner, to be worked by horse-power, and, further, providing for the setting aside of a block of land, from the sale of which funds were to be provided for the construction of the railway. This bill was rejected.
In consequence of the conflicting views expressed, the Superintendent addressed a message to the Council on the subject of the Sumner road. After reviewing the matter from its commencement, he stated that the work had been undertaken in good faith, and what had so far been done entirely justified the reports of the Provincial Engineer that the remainder could be completed within the estimate; but, in the absence of any clear indication of the settled views of the Provincial Council, he must decline the responsibility of proceeding further with the work. He therefore requested the Council again to take the whole subject of communication into consideration with a view to reaching a final and complete settlement of the question.
It was then resolved that a further survey be made to see if any other route could be discovered suitable for a road, over which light cart traffic could be carried, pending the completion of the Sumner road. The survey was entrusted to Mr. W. B. Bray, who reported, under date 18th December, 1856, that after long and careful examination he had failed to find any line that he could recommend.
(To be continued.)
An Early Railway Scene in the “City of the Plains.”
Express train at the Christchurch Station, South Island, 1887.
Wit
and
Humour
Mrs. Brown gave a kettle to the local tinker to mend. Here is the conversation, try to read it aloud:—
“Are you copper bottoming ’em?”
“No, I'm aluminiuming ’em, mum.”
* * *
Tommy (reading paper): “Daddy, what are diplomatic relations?”
Father: “There are no such people, my boy.”
* * *
“Hadn't you better go and tell your master?” said the motorist to the farmer's boy who stood looking at the load of hay upset in the lane by a collision.
“’E knows,” replied the boy.
“Knows? How can he know?”
“’Cos ’e's under the ’ay.”
* * *
A Scotsman, having heard of the wonderful results obtained by being able to rejuvenate, decided to have a course of this monkey gland extract.
He had to make a long railway journey, and at the station booking office he asked for a single ticket.
When asked if he would take a return ticket, the Scotsman replied, “No, I may come back as a child.”
* * *
Angler (at conclusion of story): “Yes, it was rather awkward getting it home. You see, I had to order a bogie timber wagon.”
Reveller (on railway station, gazing at barometer): “Can you see the time by the clock?”
His Friend: “Eight shtone four.”
Reveller: “That'sh done it. I've missed my train.”
Altering the Colour Scheme.
“What do you think of these British footballers, Pita?”
“By chove! I t'ink t'ey might make t’ Orra Bracks go white, but when t'ey meet t’ Maori I t'ink t’ Britisher go brue.”
* * *
A certain officer was being court-martialed for absenting himself from first parade and with having been intoxicated the night before.
He made strenuous efforts to prove that he was sober, and his batman, called as a witness, tried loyally to back him up.
“Was Lieutenant Smith quite normal when he returned to his quarters last night?” he was asked.
“Yessir!”
“Did he give you the usual instructions to wake him for parade?”
“Yessir! He said: ‘Be sure and call me early.’”
“Did he give you any particular reason for that?”
“Well, he said, because—because he was to be Queen of the May!”
* * *
Cohen pulled out a pistol and put it in Rosenstein's face. Just as he was about to fire, Rosenstein said:
“How much do you vant for the gun?”
Cohen, in telling the story, said: “And how could I kill a man ven he was talking business?”
The Social Side of Railway Life
New Dining Hall Opened at Addington Workshops.
The new dining hall at the Addington Railway Workshops (South Island) was officially opened on 19th May, in the presence of a large gathering of railway employees and their friends. The evening took the form of a social and dance (says the Christchurch Times).
The new hall is a very substantial structure. It is 100ft. by 50ft., and is to be used solely as a dining room, where the men can obtain anything from a substantial hot dinner, at 9d., down to a cup of hot tea. The hall is being run by the Railways Refreshment Branch, to which all proceeds will be credited.
Mr. C. A. Jenkins (Manager of the Workshops) said the new hall, which was provided by the Department for the use and convenience of the workshops employees, was one of the projects of the reorganisation scheme. The success of the hall would depend on the support given it. The Department felt that every employee in the workshops should have facilities for partaking of meals in an atmosphere conducive to freer social communion. On behalf of the Department he declared the hall open, and expressed the hope that it would be used to the fullest possible extent in promoting the general social activities of the workshops. (Applause.)
A Favourite South Island Tourist Resort
A scene on the wharf at Queenstown, Lake Wakatipu, South Island, before the departure of the Railway Department's steamer “Earnslaw” on one of its popular lake trips.
In conjunction with the new hall, is a new library building, 50ft. by 30ft. On the shelves are nearly 6,000 books, consisting of novels, magazines and technical works. There are 175 members, each of whom is allowed to take out three books a day.
Mr. J. S. Cummings, President of the Library Committee, in opening the building, said that the library was the oldest railway library in New Zealand, having been established fifty-three years ago. Every year 278 magazines were put on the library shelves, besides technical works (some of which were provided by the Head Office). There is also included in the new hall building an Apprentices' Room, where sixty-five apprentices (under the supervision of a competent instructor (Mr. W. Robbins) undergo instruction in drawing, mathematics, shop theory and practice. The Department provides everything in the way of instruments, books and stationery.
During the evening excellent vocal items were given by Messrs. T. W. Cotton, H. E. Hamilton, C. A. Brown, F. Donaldson, and J. Lockhart. The music was rendered by the Workshops Orchestra.
H. Collett .)
The science and study of insects, known as “entomology,” has come into great prominence of recent years. It is an extremely fascinating and aborbing study; the wonders are inexhaustible, rather do they appear to multiply and increase the further they are delved into. New Zealand offers a rich field for investigation and research to the young entomologist, who should bear in mind that many of the world's greatest enterprises have resulted from small beginnings. Should these “Life Stories” prove productive, as it is hoped they may, then their publication will indeed be amply rewarded.
There are very many forms of insect life that are most injurious to the physical and economic conditions of man; these, if permitted to increase without restraint, would cause absolute world disaster. Nature, who is the greatest of economists, has evolved an antidote against such a catastrophe by creating other insects, known technically as “parasites,” to destroy and keep in check those that are injurious; and, man, by closely studying her methods, has been able to utilize them to his own advantage.
Bolilophila Luminosa
Many of us have frequently observed those strange elfin gleams of phospherescent light so common in our New Zealand bush on dark nights, more especially in the damper places. These gleams emanate from the “torches” of one of our most interesting insects, the “glowworm” as it is commonly known; the splendid illuminator of the magnificent Waitomo Caves. The name “glow-worm” is rather erroneous and misleading, even though in the second stage of the insect's life it is a caterpillar, or “worm,” for, in its matured and final stage, it is a beautiful and delicate gauze winged fly.
This wonderful torch-bearer of Nature, throughout its three distinct forms in life, is a first cousin to the better known and more frequently seen, pretty and harmless Daddy Long Legs; it is also a first cousin of the still better known—and felt!—sandfly that bites so persistently and so painfully.
The “Glow-worm” is hatched from a tiny egg deposited by the mother fly in the crevices and cavities that abound in the damp soil of river banks, shafts, and tunnels of mines, caves, and other similar places. Immediately the caterpillar emerges from the egg it gets to work and spins its web across the recess in which it was hatched, and there it hangs through the caterpillar and chrysalid stages with “torch” gleaming brightly. It is of a brownish colour and about one inch in length when fully grown. The “torch,” which is at the extreme tail end, can be turned “on” or “off” at the insect's will, and is easily visible to the naked eye. The brightest luminancy is attained when the caterpillar is about to enter the chrysalid stage.
Strangely enough the “torch” seems susceptible to climatic conditions; it is invariably turned “off” on very cold nights and if subjected to any strong light. On the other hand the intensity of radiance is increased on dark, wet nights, especially with a gentle northwesterly wind in evidence.
The web is intricate in design, and formed from a sticky fluid exuded at the mouth, not, as in spiders, from spinarets at the lower end of the body. It consists of a “main thread” stretched across the mouth of the “home cavity” and held in place by smaller threads, crossing to the right and left, firmly attached to the sides and base of the recess in which it lives. From the main thread again, a number of smaller threads hang loosely and downwards that are always covered in small globules of moisture. If the caterpillar, which is very timid, is disturbed, the “light” is immediately turned “off,” and it retreats swiftly along the “main thread” to the farthest end of the recess, and vanishes within the darkness.
The chrysalid is a unique looking brownish object, about half-an-inch in length. It is firmly attached to a central web strand by a brownish coloured extension from the thorax, or chest portion. The eyes of the insect show plainly through the membrane of the chrysalid, and give it a peculiar “golliwog” appearance. The “torch,” which is still under control, is weak, and may not be turned “on” for days at a time. This dimness may be attributed to the organ of light being invisible and contained in the chrysalid case, consequently the rays become partially smothered in penetrating it.
The matured insect has a brownish body about half-an-inch in length, brownish gauze wings with a spread of half-an-inch. There are six long slender legs much like those of its cousin. The “torch,” which is placed in a posterior segment of the body, is only half as luminous as in the fully grown caterpillar.
Constructing Freight Wagons on the New Zealand Railways
(Photos, courtesy “Christchurch Press.”)
Building fifty “M” freight wagons at the Department's workshops, Addington, South Island. The wagons were constructed in a remarkably short space of time, the time interval between the taking of these two pictures being approximately eleven hours.
Conducted bySheila G. Marshall
The Two Trees
John had planted the two trees down in the corner of the old garden on the day the twins were born—to commemorate the great event. As he dug two holes in the rich, damp soil, into which he would place the trees, John thought joyfully of the two little lives up at the house—his to guide and protect—a justification for his somewhat aimless existence. He patted the earth thoughtfully and, in some mysterious way, felt that the lives of his children were to be connected very intimately with the growth and development of the two trees. It sounds an absurd and fantastical notion, but John was an absurd and fantastical man—as he is the hero of this story his ideas are of some importance.
The twins were duly christened Desmond and Mark—after much consultation and argument—and gradually emerged from the nondescript ugliness to admirable and vigorous specimens of babyhood. John and his wife regarded them with pride, interest, and some misgiving, as they progressed through the usual period of turbulent infancy—and down in the sheltered corner of the garden the two little trees shot up side by side—green, slender and graceful—beautiful and silent symbols of Desmond and Mark.
To John it seemed an incredibly short interval before he conducted his offspring to school. He felt extreme reluctance at handing over his “belongings” to alien hands, but Desmond and Mark—sturdy and beautiful—stood bravely, hand in hand, on the threshold of their new life. They were not thinking of him, and he realised with a pang that he could not enter into their lives—he was just an onlooker. He went home that morning and pulled up one or two weeds growing at the foot of his trees, wishing he could do likewise with the unknown dangers which, even then, he felt gathering about the lives of his twins.
Their early school days were much the same as those of all children, except that they were unusually brilliant—one at games, the other at lessons—and had been absolutely inseparable. All their nefarious and dark schemes were planned together—work prepared, enterprises undertaken, friends and enemies made, fights and hobbies. For the first ten years they were one—indistinguishable and united. Then they went off to a boarding-school, and disappeared from John's life, except for the breathless rush of their annual holidays, when they reappeared, bringing the inevitable atmosphere of a large school, full of strange slang—somewhat reserved and shy, no longer his babies, but two independent and determined young things.
It was about then that John began to notice a difference between them, and he will often tell you how one morning he noticed that one of the trees looked decidedly stronger, greener, and fresher than the other, which seemed to droop almost imperceptibly as the other flourished. The next day came a letter from Desmond—a typical schoolboy scrawl—saying in a casual P.S. that “Old Mark had made an utter ass of himself” by fainting on the Rugger field, and that the school doctor, “an indescribable idiot,” had forbidden him to play again that year. Later, Mark wrote a furious and miserable epistle, and John's heart ached for the boy who had to watch his
In the Southland District.
Members of the Invercargill and District Railways Picnic Committee, 1930.
At eighteen, Desmond and Mark left school, determined to pursue the same career—that of the Flying Corps. “You see, Dad,” said Desmond, “we have always done things together, haven't we, old chap?” “Rather,” answered the loyal Mark. But John noticed a certain quietness in the boy—a tendency to dream—quite foreign to the lusty Desmond, who, at school, had always relied on his brother's assistance in matters intellectual. The headmaster advised a University career for Mark, and predicted great things for him in the literary world, but Mark had absolutely declined to go up to Oxford without Desmond, who had set his heart on the glory of a flying career. “If you like I'll come up with you to that stuffy hole,” he said, “but think how jolly it would be to rush through the air, the world literally at your feet!” Imaginative Mark pictured the blue atmosphere, rushing winds, the poetry of the whole thing, and gave up his dreams of romantic old Oxford, not however without a pang. “We must stick together of course,” he said to John (who failed altogether to see the necessity), on the morning they went up for their examination to enter the Flying Corps.
The two trees were now tall and strong. To the casual observer they were identical, but John detected a difference. One, it seemed to him, was always the more vigorous and perfect, the other leaning slightly towards it as if seeking protection from the wind. “Poor old Mark,” John used to think “Life is not going to be too easy for him,” and he viciously uprooted a persistent weed at the foot of Mark's tree.
“Home came the boys, gay and confident, from the examination, which Mark pronounced “awfully simple.” Then followed a severe and gruelling medical test, thoroughly enjoyed by Desmond, who knew himself to be as perfect as a Greek hero. The interval of waiting for results was spent rushing about town with John—“talkies,” dances, tennis and lazy afternoons in the garden.
“By Jove, Mark,” said Desmond one day, “your tree's not looking too good—a bit liverish, don't you think?” Mark laughed in a somewhat constrained way, and John wondered if he was conscious of the fundamental and essential gulf between himself and his twin. “It's alright,” he said. “Probably finds the sun a bit hot. Your's is taking all the good soil; greedy brute, aren't you?” with an affectionate punch. John leant back in his chair and watched them lying on the grass eating apples in the afternoon sunshine. His “baby twins” were now strapping young men, good to look upon, eager for experience; so confident and gay, sublimely untroubled and careless.
Then came the results of the examination. John experienced a pang of fear, and found himself secretly hoping that Mark had been turned down. He knew that the boy was not strong enough for the strenuous life of the air, and that his heart really lay within the peaceful
On Auckland Harbour.
The Otahuhu Workshops apprentices' picnic party setting off for their first annual picnic at Oneroa Beach, Auckland Harbour.
At first, all went well with them. They were away at a training camp, and rushed home now and then, full of enthusiasm—inseparable as ever. Mark had become very lean—almost gaunt. John thought—but seemed well and happy, and as for Desmond, he had grown more than ever like a Greek god. They called him “Hermes” at camp. John, of course, was terribly proud of his boys, and began to feel that he had been mistaken, and that their destiny lay together. Later, they were engaged simultaneously, and talked of a “double wedding.” “Always stick together, old chap,” said Desmond; and, as usual, Mark agreed.
One night, John leant from the window, and stared thoughtfully out into the storm—up into the dark chaos of space—thinking that somewhere, perhaps, Mark and Desmond were alone with the elements—driven by great winds, lashed by stinging rain. A sudden flash showed him, for a moment, the wreck of his garden—drenched and beaten by the storm. Desmond's tree stood alone.
Regardless of the rain, the old man rushed out into the night, and stood motionless by the fallen tree, which he had planted twenty years ago, on the day of Mark's birth. Across the path it lay, violently uprooted by the wind—ruined and broken—while its companion towered there, seeming to exult in the fury of the storm—stretching out its great arms to the winds—standing firm, defiant and unconquerable.
Next day came a wire from Desmond. “Mark seriously ill; pneumonia.” John had known it—it was predestined from the moment when he had placed the two identical little seeds in the same soil, down in the corner of his garden. That night, as the moon rose over the city, and shone on the rain drenched leaves, the soul of Mark journeyed back to its Maker—its destiny fulfilled.
Desmond's tree still stands there in John's garden—splendid and arrogant in its sublime beauty. There is no trace of the other tree.
Smiling Competitors in an interesting race.
The Thread-the-needle Race at the recent Railways picnic at Marton Junction, North Island.
Care of the Hands
Modern poets find greater subjects for their efforts than mere “hands”—yet these have been immortalized by the Greeks and Egyptians, who realized that a “thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” and that the human hand—that eminently useful portion of our anatomy—can lay claim to very real aesthetic value.
Beautiful hands often redeem an otherwise ugly woman, while ugly, ill kept hands can make us forget that a woman is really pretty. I have often heard people say. “Of course she is quite plain, but have you ever noticed what wonderful hands she's got?”
I am afraid that nowadays beautiful hands and arms are extremely rare. They are left to their own devices, while every wrinkle on the face is studied with anxious care—and while the figure occupies the prominent place in the world feminine. Have you ever noticed glaringly polished, sharply pointed, and vulgarly coloured nails, upon a hand which is obviously
Most of us are devoted to outdoor games. We live during the reign of Diana the huntress, the swift of foot and clear of eye, and it is well for us that we do. But this is no excuse for neglecting our hands; they will swing a golf club and drive a tennis ball equally well if they are beautiful. In New Zealand we live in a servantless land for the most part, and our hands suffer accordingly; they become the “hoary palms of toil.” Why not wear thin rubber gloves for that plunge into the greasy washing-up water? They are cheap, and last a long time—two undeniable attributes. Another invaluable aid to beauty—to remove grease and dirt—is vaseline, rubbed well in and rinsed off in warm, soft water and really good soap. Don't economise here.
After a tennis match or a day in the sun, use glycerine and rose water, mixed in equal proportions; you will be surprised at the result. Use a little of the time you spend upon your ill-used face, to glance at your hands. Cut a lemon in half; rub one half over your hands and arms, and use the other half to soften the water in which you wash. You need not bother with exercises, etc., life is too short, although I believe our grandmothers found time to soak their elbows in hot water for ten minutes, and massage them for another ten! As for leaning them on the table, that was never done.
However, gone are those days, with the wasp-waists and fans. File your nails every day, it will become a habit soon, and will repay you—no claw-like points, but a symmetrical oval.
Don't under-estimate the value of beautiful hands. You are proverbially supposed to be able to hold the great clever male in the “hollow of your little hand,” and to twist him round your finger; let it be a pretty one.
The first lesson to learn is that there are other people in the world beside yourself.—Hazlitt.
faery
Egg and Sardine Savoury
It is so hard to think of something new in the savoury line for lunches, and most people do not want meat more than once a day. Here is a tasty and easily made savoury dish, which contains vitamins A and D, so important in our diet. Mash up contents of half a small tin of sardines, with yolks of two hard-boiled eggs. Add 1 1/2 teaspoonsful of finely chopped parsley, pepper and salt. Mix all together with Worcester or tomato sauce and serve on half a tomato placed on one or two lettuce leaves.