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.
Controller and Auditor-General.
The Governor-General Opens His First Parliament.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
With customary ceremonial, the Governor-General (Lord Bledisloe) opened Parliament on 26th June. The illustrations shew: (1) Lord Bledisloe and Lady Bledisloe, with members of the Staff, leaving Parliament House. (2) Inspecting the guard of honour. (3) A general view of the proceedings. (4) His Excellency taking the salute. (5) Their Excellencies leaving Parliament House after the ceremony.
New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
Magazine
“
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For Better ServicePublished by the
New Zealand Government Railways Department
Circular over 20,000
Vol. 5. No. 3.
Wellington, New Zealand
Rail and Road
The latest development on our system in the direction of co-ordinated effort to suit the convenience of through travellers has been the amalgamation of interests between the railways and road operators in the Hawke's Bay, Poverty Bay, Bay of Plenty, and Thermal districts of the North Island. Under this plan, specially low fares for combined rail and road trips are made available for travellers either into or from the above districts, or for those who desire to use this alternative route through the North Island for journeys between the northern and southern provinces.
Through the absence of rail connections in that area which is bounded on the east by the Main Trunk line, on the north by the railway terminal at Rotorua and Taneatua, and on the south by the railway terminal at Napier, a very varied and rich stretch of territory has remained through half a century, an unknown land to the average traveller. Bad roads, expensive transport, and uncertainty of connection with the main travel routes, has caused the average planner of trips to leave this portion of New Zealand out of his itineraries. The wonderful bush scenery of the Motu Gorge and ranges, the magnificent vistas of mountain and valley, river and lake, gained when overlooking the mystic Urewera country, the historical romance associated with such places as “Young Nick's Head,” the rich and smiling plains of the mis-named “Poverty Bay,” plains which find their outlet in that modern and prosperous provincial centre, Gisborne town, have all been missed, not only by the world-tramping tourist, but also by the great majority of New Zealanders. Good roads are now the rule rather than the exception in this country. The co-ordinated services just arranged will ensure both good connections for through travellers and the cheap transport necessary to place the routes traversed on at least an equal footing with areas that have, in the past, been more favourably placed.
A Wellington traveller wishing to go through to Auckland by the eastern route will have no more trouble over transport, once he boards his train, than he would have when going by the Main Trunk railway. Arrived at Napier, a taxi, which is supplied as part of the through service, will take him to his hotel. He will be called for after breakfast the following morning and carried through to Rotorua by his own chosen route, either via Taupo and Wairakei, or via Gisborne and Opotiki.
A round trip of half the Island may be made either from Auckland or Wellington, via National Park. The Auckland traveller would proceed via Putaruru, Rotorua, or Taneatua, to Wairakei and Taupo, and thence to rejoin the train at National Park, or, if he preferred, in the reverse direction; and the Wellington traveller who disembarked at National Park could proceed via Taupo, Wairakei, Rotorua, Gisborne, or via Taupo direct to Napier, and thence by rail to Wellington.
Very definite efforts are now being made to increase the volume of tourist traffic to this Dominion. The value of such traffic is beyond doubt, and the value of New Zealand from the tourist's point of view will be considerably increased because of the organised plans now adopted for his convenience in travel through this fine eastern country of the North Island.
New Level Crossing “Stop” Signal
Upon taking control of the New Zealand Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, General Manager, took in hand the matter of devising an effective and unmistakable type of signal for crossing-keepers. A great many ideas were explored, and were eventually reduced to one or two. The warning signal selected consists of a display board upon which the word “Stop” is picked out with reflecting lenses, the signal thus being visible to motorists approaching a crossing from either direction. The board is attached to a staff about 4ft. in length, the whole device being constructed with a view to its being made readily portable. When the conference on motor legislation was convened by the Minister of Transport some months ago, opportunity was taken to put the ideas before the conference. The conference confirmed the idea which had been suggested by the Department of providing the crossing-keepers with the portable notice as described. However, the necessary material to permit of the notices being provided immediately was not in the Dominion. The Department
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The warning signal for crossing-keepers, recently authorised for adoption on the New Zealand Railways.
The Most Charming Country
Writing in the “Dominion” a few days ago, Mr. W. H. Saunders, F.R.G.S., paid the following fine tribute to the scenic charms of New Zealand:—“I have made several visits to New Zealand, and though a world traveller of over fifty years, during which time I have visited most countries of the globe, I maintain, without hesitation, that New Zealand is the most charming, interesting, picturesque, and intriguing of all. I never cease urging all I can to visit our most loyal and most Southern Colony, and I am always sorry that the charms of New Zealand are so little known in the Old Country.”
Death of Sir Joseph Ward
Statesman and Imperialist
The passing of the veteran statesman, the Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Ward, whose death, after many months of failing health, occurred in Wellington on 8th July, closes a career remarkable in duration, in variety, and in constructive achievement in the public life of New Zealand and of the Empire. Sir Joseph Ward's rise from the position of telegraph messenger to that of Prime Minister is a story of inspiring romance. Along with other sections of the community, railwaymen will mourn the death of Sir Joseph Ward, who, for some years, held the portfolio of Minister of Railways. To him they were indebted for the Railways Classification Act and the Railways Superannuation Act—two measures which conferred upon them, at the time, certain outstanding benefits. Gratitude for this humane legislation was expressed in a resolution passed recently by the Executive Council of the Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants, and conveyed to Sir Joseph Ward before his death. The resolution, which may be taken to voice the sentiments of the whole Railway service, is worded as follows:—“We feel sure it will be a source of pleasure and comfort to Sir Joseph to know that the members of our Society are not unmindful, nor are they ungrateful for the humane and wise legislation which he was responsible for placing on the Statute Book. This not only relieved our members of a great deal of mental anxiety, but enabled them to make provision for their old age. Many of our members are to-day reaping in their old age the harvest of the humane seeds sown by Sir Joseph in the years gone by.”
The Late
Sir Joseph Ward, Bart., G.C.M.G., P.C., LL.D.
Following are some of the many fine tributes paid by representative public men in New Zealand on the occasion of Sir Joseph Ward's death:—
“New Zealand has to-day lost one of her greatest sons and the Empire its senior outstanding statesman. It is early yet to assess at its true value his public work for the country he loved so well and served so faithfully, but on this, the day of his passing from our midst, we may acknowledge without dissentient voice his untiring and unselfish devotion to duty, his staunch Imperialism, and his brilliant and creative statesmanship.”—Lord Bledisloe, Governor General.
“There is no doubt that when the news of his passing was flashed from one end of New Zealand to the other, there was a feeling of personal loss. There was a feeling that a man who had given a life of service to the people of this country had gone from our midst, and the feeling was that in his going he left behind him a record of which we may all be proud.”—The Prime Minister, Hon. G. W. Forbes.
“In the passing of Sir Joseph they felt that they had lost a personal friend. Sir Joseph's personal qualities made him liked and respected by all. Throughout his political career Sir Joseph had always placed his country first, and his 37 years of political life had produced some notable achievements.”—The Rt. Hon.
“Half a century of public service including 40 years of active political life, stood to the credit of Sir Joseph Ward. There were measures on the Statute Book which would serve to keep alive his memory so far as New Zealand was concerned. The conflicts of the past are forgotten in his death, and he is remembered for the great deeds he has done.”—Mr. H. E. Holland, Leader of the Labour Party.
General Manager's Message
Economy.
Owing to the need for special measures to be taken in connection with the general financial situation of New Zealand, the present is a time when economy by members of the Railway service in small things as well as in great, must be exercised for the general good. On previous occasions I have stressed the importance of this aspect of our work, but it is a subject which deserves reiteration because of the vital issues dependent upon it. In the matter of ordering work and material and in the general use of stores and supplies, there is a point beyond which a checking or supervisory system can only go at a cost which is greater than any possible savings which such a system can effect. Consequently, there is always a margin between check (or supervision) and actual expenditure which is high or low according to the spirit in which the employee regards his stewardship, or, in other words, the moral attitude of each individual member of the staff towards his job. Times like the present should help to bring home to all the seriousness of wastefulness of any kind and the necessity for adopting economy measures in every phase of their work. Waste and wages come from the same fund, which in the last analysis, is determined not by us, but by the purchaser of our product (transport) when he decides what he is willing to pay for it.
I, therefore, make a general appeal to members to give constant attention to the subject of economy so that they may be ready to seize every opportunity that comes their way for effecting savings in Departmental expenditure. I am fully conscious of the fact that few men will deliberately commit waste. The appeal I am particularly making is against apathy as regards economy. I would wish every member to be active in the prevention of waste. There is no cure for waste—what is once wasted cannot be got back, whether it be material, time or effort. To get positive results we must prevent waste.
I take this opportunity of stating that much useful information of service to the Railways has already been transmitted to me as a result of previous messages sent out through the Magazine, and I shall be pleased to receive, and, indeed, anticipate an equal response to the present request.
Reduction Of Services.
It has been found necessary, in order to reduce our operating costs, to restrict, to some extent, the train service that we have been providing in certain areas. Naturally, the users of such services are somewhat disturbed by these restrictions and some may feel resentful. In every case where such alterations have been made, however, the change has been brought about because a careful financial analysis of the services indicated that a saving could be effected by the action taken. I shall be glad of the assistance of the staff generally in explaining this to the public, and would appreciate any direct advice or other help members can give to travellers or traders which will enable them to make the best use of the services we have offering.
General Manager
America's Weighty Word—Navy and Tariff Issues—Voices from the Grave—Banks' Lifebuoy to Industries—More Air Conquest.
As these lines are being written it is cabled that the first step has been taken in the long-awaited decision of the United States Senate concerning the London.
Europe Controls the Accelerator.
Naval Treaty. By sixteen votes to four it is stated, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee has approved the Treaty, creating the impression that it will now be ratified by the United States. If so, one or two shrewd prophets will have to admit a mistake. The argument of these prophets is that the United States Government started out in the first place to agree with the British Government on a naval tonnage total at which the British and the American navies should reach parity. The lower the tonnage the less U.S.A. would have to spend in building up. But Prime Minister MacDonald's disposition to accept Anglo-American parity on a low total tonnage was conditional on the acceptance by France and Italy of tonnages low enough to enable Britain (who is a European as well as an Atlantic-Pacific Power) to preserve the American understanding. France and Italy refused to come in on that platform, with the result that Anglo-American parity is attainable under the three-Powers section of the London Naval Treaty at a figure higher and more costly than the Americans had hoped. Moreover, even that figure may move upward (under the “moving platform” clause) if Britain deems her hand to be forced hereafter by the naval building of the Continental Powers.
American annoyance with the high tonnage of the parity figure, and with its lack of fixity, was deemed by the prophets to foreshadow that the Senate would wreck this
An Echo of Versailles
Hoover Treaty, as years ago it wrecked the Woodrow Wilson Treaty. It will be remembered that, in the peace negotiations at Versailles, Wilson agreed to pay the price of French co-operation—an Anglo-American guarantee to protect France against aggression. France thereupon withdrew her claim to the left bank of the Rhine (which claim Foch had declared to be a military necessity), and naturally considered herself betrayed when the U.S. Senate rejected the guarantee. The passage of years finds the French price much the same as at Versailles, only at the London conference it was called a “consultative pact” instead of a guarantee. Though U.S. Secretary of State Stinson spoke of it favourably in London—and even spoke similarly in America a week or two ago—President Hoover would not risk Wilson's fate by putting it in the London Naval Treaty. That is to say, he refused to buy a real naval reduction at the price set by France. Even so, the Senate's wrath was still feared. That is why the cabled report of the vote of the Senate Committee is of high importance.
* * *
In so far as it failed, the failures of the London Naval Conference are clearly heirs in the
Being Dead, Yet Speaketh.
itself, there has lately been published a posthumous book by Clemenceau, probably a reprisal to a criticism by Foch, published after Foch's death and authorised by Foch, although not written with Foch's own hand. Foch is on the old familiar story that Clemenceau, by political bungling, lost for France that left bank of the Rhine that her soldiers had won for her. (Other countries' soldiers, too.) To this Clemenceau feels compelled to reply that he was sold by the Allies, who failed to ratify the triple guarantee. Mr. Wickham Steed concisely sums it up:
Foch, and those who thought with him, could mock at the faith Clemenceau had placed in England and the United States. Clemenceau's bitterness against American post-war policy, and especially against Mr. Lloyd George … . breaks out on page after page of his book.
And French politicians who have succeeded Clemenceau are not likely to forget. Certainly Tardieu, at the London Naval Conference did not forget.
* * *
The world has been waiting during the month for another United States decision, the final enactment of the new tariff. On the whole, it has turned out to be
Tariffism and an Election.
even higher than was expected. Thus the ball has been set rolling to invite “retaliation” and “reprisal.” These words, it seems, are being avoided in the Canadian election campaign, but that campaign is being profoundly influenced by United States tariffism, and both the main parties are carefully feeling their way up to the polling booths, due to open on 28th July. After then—but hardly before—there may be some chance to judge what the reaction of the United States tariff on the Canadian tariff is likely to be, how the other Empire units will be affected by both tariffs, and particularly the effect on New Zealand dairy produce of the cross-currents set up by new American duties on Canadian milk and cream, and by the demand of the Canadian farmer for more protection against imports of butter, etc. A renewal of the price-break on the New York Stock Exchange has to be noted, also a new break in wheat prices. Chicago now quotes in cents.
It is not often that a company is floated in shares of £100,000 each. Sixty of these shares go to make up the six million sterling capital of the Bankers' Industrial
Surgical Work in Industry.
Development Company, the registration of which was recently announced by the British Government. British banks and big financial institutions are the shareholders, and the face value of the shares is a fairly good indication that they will not be gambled on the Stock Exchange. What, then, is the purpose of this peculiarly capitalised company? Primarily schemes of reconstruction in British basic industries. An industry may suffer from over-capitalisation (too many companies, too much dead capital, or both), from an insufficiency of efficient plant, from an excess of inefficient plant, and from a lack of organised policy. The purpose of the new company is not to come to the rescue of the distressed companies individually, but to help them in groups if they come forward with a group scheme of industrial reconstruction or reorganisation or “rationalisation” (blessed word!) that, through its economies, technical merits, and courage in de-watering watered capital accounts may win the approval of the Bankers' Industrial Development Company.
* * *
No State guarantee, the British Government explains, attaches to this company. It exercises no veto power upon schemes of “rationalisation”—let us call it R. for short—other than those
The Magic of “R.”
that are submitted for its approval. It is in no sense a Court of Arbitration for distressed capitalists, and it cannot prevent any R. scheme from being capitalised through other channels. But its approval should be a hallmark and a great help, both direct and indirect, in the raising of capital for industries that recognise their own plight and are equal to the self-surgery that the situation requires. To say that is to admit right away that the initiative in R. must come from within—not outside—the industry. A money bandage is not of much use unless the surgical work itself is sound. As one read of this British attempt to align the banks and the manufacturers (without destroying the authority of the latter) the mind flashes back to Henry Ford's fight with the American financiers in the post-war reconstruction, as told in his “My Life and Work.” But R. is now in the air, and not every manufacturer is able to secure it by his own unaided effort. It has both its political and industrial enemies. Mr. Maxton “scorns industrial and political leaders who lend
* * *
While the London reviewers were poring over Lord Birkenhead's book, “The World in 2030, A.D.,” with its anticipation that airplanes flying at 50,000 feet will move at 600
Getting Above Ourselves.
miles an hour through the rarified atmosphere, Colonel Lindbergh had already moved up several storeys (or should one write strata?) and had put up a new time-record for the United States trans-Continental flight by flying at over 14,000 feet. Though Lindbergh wisely pointed out, after his flight, that it was too early to draw conclusions, the quest for air-routes above the storm-planes has now definitely begun. Birkenhead builds so much on high flying that he even talks of an expedition to Mars. The world did not step out quite in that direction while his pages were going to press, but it did get on the trail of what is hoped to be a new planet. Few responsible writers in the Old World treat this American claim with the levity simulated by some contemporary writers in New Zealand. A month after his first announcement, the Director of Lowell (Arizona) repeated his belief that the trans-Neptunian object shown on the plate is a planet, not a comet. Dr. J. Jackson, of the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, writes that “the orbit is that of a comet, but the appearance is that of a planet.” That is to say, the body appears on the plate sharply, not with an appearance of nebulosity.
* * *
The re-appearance of Lindbergh in pioneer (altitude) flying seems to have been the signal for the re-appearance of the evergreen Kingsford Smith. His aim was
Globe-Girdling Southern Cross.
a grander east-to-west crossing of the Northern Atlantic than that of the German-Irish flyers (Koehl and Fitzmaurice), who in 1928 were rather lucky in finding the Labrador island, Greenly. In personality Lindbergh and Kingsford Smith have little in common, but both have the “will to victory” in the air, and both have made history. In conquering the Atlantic on “westward-ho” lines the Australian has not only done a thing big in itself, but has cleared the main obstacle to the completion of a Southern Cross girdle round the globe. In Australia, Miss Amy Johnson has been gathering the fruits of her success. In England another gallant contender, Sir Henry Segrave, fastest motorist and motor boatist, lost his life in raising the world's record for motor craft on the classic waters of Windermere. A Japanese Consular official in San Francisco forecasts a trans-Pacific airship (Zeppelin) service between Japan and the United States.
Executive and District Engineers, N.Z.R., 1930.
(S. P. Andrews, photo.)
Back row (left to right): Messrs. P. H. Moray (Invercargill), J. McNair (Christchurch), C. M. Benzoni (Dunedin), H. L. P. Smith (Ohakune), W. H. Beasley (Wanganui), W. R. B. Bagge (Wellington). Sitting: J. K. Lowe (Auckland), W. R. Davidson (Asst. C.E.), F. C. Widdop (C.E.), A. S. Wansborough (Designing Engineer), G. J. Bertinshaw (Inspecting Engineer).
)Ken Alexander .
Dear reader, unless you are one of those frozen products of humanity, boasting a body of chilled steel and the heart of a sea-lion, who love to battle with the elephants of nature, who scorn the frozen mitt, the icy optic and the cold shoulder, and who wot not of the cool reception nor the chilly greeting—unless you are one of those ice-breakers who titillate the matutinal tub with a harpoon or an alpenstock—unless you are a frosted caramel, a white frost or a chunk of chilled cheese, you will have observed that winter has put the merry party in the ice-box and slammed the door.
Assuming, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, that you are one of those whose blood stream refuses to visit the outlying suburbs of the physiology, whose cuticular quilting smacks of the goose's underclothing, and whose sniffing-set glows like an illuminated address or the beacon at the cross-roads, it is to you these congruities of cold comfort are conveyed.
Despite the fact that snow and ice and the other cold collations of the cosmography have prompted poets to release avalanches of avouchment anent the romance of ice cakes. Eskimo pies and chilled livers, you are not dissuade from applying to your auditorium a woof or a weft of the world's wool clip, and encouraging the coalmining industry to the limit of your credit. Therefore, hunger not to emulate the shivering sheik who, imperfectly garbed in a strange device and a good recording voice, essayed to keep a date above the snow line with a flippant flapper named Excelsior, and was only saved from permanent association with the refrigerating industry by the efforts of the St. Bernard free ambulance.
Likewise, tender reader, who is there among those present, who would willingly take his little daughter to sail the wintry sea without bed-socks or a mother's care, as did the skipper of the schooner Hesperus, whose craving for company exceeded his sympathy with the child welfare movement? Whatever way you regard the subject, winter is a big frost.
Mud In The Blood.
“Titillate the matutinal tub with a harpoon.”
But, dear reader, in addition to those well-known indoor winter sports, tossing the coalscuttle, rolling the eiderdown, whipping the cat, and keeping the funny side up, winter has hatched a horde of cold jiggers, a band of human igloos, to whom snow is the ambrosial ambergris, and ice an incentive to physical violence. When the mercury has sunk a foot below Plimsoll, and the mountain goat has gone into cold storage, these snow-bawlers lope over the wind-swept slopes in packs; they climb the highest mountains armed with yodels, “eidelwhizzers,” and slabs of Swiss cheese, and slide down per medium of their ulterior motives. They lash scantlings to their understandings and slither over the face of nature like a poached egg in a porcelain tub, unless, of course, one leg claims that east is west and the other essays a solo flight, where-upon they part at the cross-roads and precipitate their proprietor into the great white south.
When the frisky freezers aforesaid feel that southerly storms and the other cold confections of the lower levels have become too enervating for their concrete constitutions, they grab a pickaxe and a horse-hair shirt and head for the ice-cream cones and snow-slides preserved for the purpose of keeping them comfortably cold. And, astonished reader, they wallow in their altitudinisms, and have been known to shed hailstones when, with the melting of the big snows, they have been forced to return to the horizontal haunts of humanity. But doubtless, dear reader, were these snow-eaters requested to disinter a tub of tubers from the kitchen garden during a blizzard they would create a frosty atmosphere in the domiciliary wigwam.
Strange indeed are the ways of man, and amazing the avenues of human endeavour; but it is the nature of the homocrat to be constantly doing something or someone. He must at all costs, or even at sale price, find something upon which to project his ultra-violent rays; before and since the days of the chiropodist king—William the Corn-curer—man has been busy rearranging nature. When he has finished conquering the earth and the air he doubtless will reassemble the sign of the Zodiac and straighten out the kinks in the Spiral Nebula.
In the meantime he expends his lack of leisure in seeing how fast he can leave the scenery behind him; never will he relinquish his rotary rondos until he can whirl round the world with such auto-celerity that he will catch up with his
“Insufficiently garbed in a strange device.”
“The cold-jiggers.”
ad infinitum and “pro multum skidaddlum”; while, in truth, an oyster is a slippery customer when it comes out of its shell, its utility as a means of speedy travel is liable to become impaired by a too constant contact with the human heel.
One of these Monday mornings the world will give us justification for feeling like the recoil of a spring onion, by suddenly rolling from north to south, and then man will have to velocitate on his elbow—which will put a kink in his high-tension hoppy-go-pop and aeroplanistic veloci-projection. It is true that many motorologists habitually recline on their rear collar studs, but to gyrate round the terrain on one's funny bone would be too much of a joke. Man expends much energy in drilling tunnels in the atmosphere for the purpose of connecting one “aerodrone” with another, but if he were fully cognisant of his “aeromatics,” he would follow the advice of the collier's daughter who entreated: “Don't go down the mine, daddy, let the mine come up to you.” In other words, he would simply soar above the sky so high like a duck egg in the sky and let the rest of the world go by, until the piece his mind was set on came into juxtaposition with his ambition, when he would merely dive down and capture it, thereby performing a globular circuit every twenty-four hours.
Man, dear reader, has reached the stage where he views life through a windscreen; the future is wrapped in gasolene, but through the mists of monoxide I see a bowserised biped boasting balloon lungs and an eye where his hat used to be, for the purpose of overhead observation. The infant of this benzinian period will be born with baby “balloons” on the hips in place of pedals, and will wear two-wheel brakes on his undercarriage. He will converse in a series of honks and hoots, and will breakfast at a bowser. Imagine the touching picture of the infant Ben Zino dashing to his mother's mudguard at forty miles to the gallon, and uttering little honks of baby glee:
Little Ben Zino come honk me your horn,
Your headlights are dim and your covers are worn,
I very much fear if your chassis gets weak,
You'll be under the scrap-pile all of a heap.
Thus the two thousand-and-thirty model mother will apply the maternal brake to her little one-seater, when he essays to break the by-laws.
Is it not amazing, when we recollect how our own mothers of yesteryear warned us against venturing too near the rear bumpers of the horse on the cab stand, that we have managed to reach our years of whiskers and wisdom in the piece? That we are here to-day is further confirmation of the truth of those old lines: “He who hops out of the way will live to hop another day.” The term, “The quick and the dead” bears greater significance to-day than heretofore, for those who are not quick on the uptake, quickly become but a memory. Is it surprising that modern man is more alert at both ends than his ancestry, and that “The survival of the flittest” applies to-day with greater emphasis on the “flit” than it did before the world took to bounding on ball-bearings?
“The bowserised biped.”
But modern reader, while acknowledging the advantages of gasoleneous gliding, the fact remains that the motorist is a lone wolf, cut off from contact with his fellow wolf by his internal combustiousness, and isolated by celerity. Practically the only conversation he indulges in is when he broods over a burst tyre, and as the tyre has made its final remark before he begins, the meeting is liable to lapse for lack of a quorum or a twosome, and the conversation to resemble lonesome and lopsided loquacity. No sir and madam, for human communion and the exchange of the spoken word, give us the railway train; thus:
The (Rail)Way to Happiness.
“Whiskers and wisdom.”
In a letter to the Editor (dated 26th June, 1930), Mr. James McAllister, Headmaster, Pahia School (via Invercargill), pays the following tribute to our Magazine: “With the regular monthly arrival of your most excellent Magazine, I have always felt that you should be informed of the real and lasting pleasure it affords both teachers and pupils. I should add that all the parents, also, are keen that their children should be first in turn to merit the privilege of taking home each copy. Therefore, Sir, I take this opportunity of extending sincerest thanks for your fine publication; and I can assure you that in this district the “N.Z.R. Magazine” is creating a really live interest in our national transport system.”
A Comfortable Sleeper on the Main Trunk.
Imposing Example of Ecclesiastical Architecture.
The beautiful nave of Christ Church, Oxford, England.
Our London Letter
Discussing, in his present contribution, the recently published annual financial statements and accounts of the Home Railways, our Special London Correspondent refers to their “pleasing nature” from the standpoint of the gradually increasing traffic and bigger business which they record. “Regular dividends (though in some cases comparatively modest) are now being paid on all Home Railway stocks, and there seems no reason why, in course of time, these stocks should not appreciate to pre-war value.”
One of the most interesting yearly reports, which may be taken as typical of that of the Home railways generally, is that of the Great Western Railway. During 1929, this undertaking's receipts showed an increase over 1928 of £656,509. Some 1,250,000 tons more freight, and about 5,250,000 tons more coal and coke were handled by the system during 1929, and these increases largely contributed to the general improvement in traffic receipts. Passengers handled by the line numbered 1,300,000 more than in 1928, but passenger train receipts showed a drop of £278,000. For the year 1929, shareholders receive a dividend of 7 1/2 per cent. on Great Western ordinary stock. Regarding the general situation, the Board of the Great Western Railway state that 1929 was a year of steady progress. The train mileage for the year was the highest ever recorded in the history of the undertaking, and this was accomplished not only without employing additional locomotives, but actually with an engine stock reduced in number by eighty-nine. In common with the three other big Home railways, the Great Western has embarked extensively upon transport on the roads, and through a courageous policy of acquiring important private road transport undertakings, has practically dismissed the bogey of road competition for good.
The return to more prosperous times recorded in the case of the Home main line railways is also reflected in the working of the London Underground Railways. The London underground group (comprising a number of underground railways, omnibus undertakings and street tramway concerns), carried some 2,175,000,000 passengers in 1929. The railways in the group handled 18 per cent. of this business; the motor buses 73 per cent., and the street tramcars 9 per cent. These figures bring out in striking manner the predominance of the motor omnibus in London transport. Nowhere else in the capital cities of the world does the omnibus secure such an enormous share of the passenger business offering. Traffic receipts of the London underground combine amounted in the aggregate to £17,300,000, an increase of £200,000 over 1928. The underground undertaking, it is interesting to note, employs some 45,000 regular workers, and the average weekly wage paid per man is approximately £4 3s. London's population now stands at something like 8,800,000 persons. This, of course, is quite apart from the hundreds of thousands of visitors that annually make their way from every corner of the earth, to the great modern Babylon. In 1929 the journeys per head of the population over the Underground concern worked out at 512. In the future there will probably be seen many extensions outwards of the underground railways, and plans are under way for the spending of £13,500,000 upon these extension works.
Visions of exceptionally rapid transport between London and the Continent of Europe are raised by the recent publication of the report of the committee, set up by the Government, to consider the question of the construction of a railway tunnel beneath the English Channel. The proposal is to build a tunnel having two tracks, or rather, two parallel tunnels each carrying a single track, running from Dover to Calais, and having connections at either end with the Southern Railway of England and the Northern Railway of France respectively. The actual length of the under-water section of the tunnel would be twenty-four miles, and the tunnel itself would be some 18ft. 6in. in diameter. The idea of the tunnel is to speed up movement of passengers and freight between England and the mainland of Europe, to avoid transhipment at the ports, and to eliminate the sea passage at present entailed in the London-Paris journey.
In theory, the Channel tunnel appears an admirable work, but there are numerous difficulties attached to the proposition. The committee, appointed by the Government, to enquire into the scheme, have reported in favour of the plan, it being their view that a Channel tunnel could be built, maintained, and operated by private enterprise, at a cost which would permit of the traffic through it being conveyed at rates no higher than those at present in force. The whole project, however, is undoubtedly a huge speculation. First, it would be necessary to construct a pilot tunnel costing £5,600,000. Then the two traffic tunnels are estimated to cost a further £25,000,000. Fissures in the sea bed, or unfilled valleys, might easily ruin the whole scheme, or add millions to its cost. None of the Home Railways, or the Northern Railway of France, are enamoured of the scheme; naturally the shipping companies are opposed to the plan; Home farming and industrial circles view the proposed Channel tunnel with apprehension; and presumably the only people who are really attracted thereby are a tiny handful of timid travellers who regard the two-hour crossing of the choppy Channel as something worth a king's ransom to avoid, and foreign manufacturers who see in the tunnel a new means of placing their wares upon the British market.
New passenger carriages lately put into traffic by the Home railways, set up an entirely fresh standard in travel comfort. In recent times there has been a marked increase in the carrying capacity of the Home railway passenger coach, but notwithstanding this development, the British passenger carriage remains, in general, a much smaller vehicle than the American or the Continental car.
Lord of the Power House.
Wimbledon Power Station, feeding the Southern Railway London-Richmond Lines.
In a paper delivered before the Scottish section of the Institute of Transport, in Glasgow, Mr. C. E. R. Sherrington, of the London School of Economics, made an illuminating comparison of passenger car capacities in Britain and other lands. In this paper it was remarked that the average British passenger train consisted of about ten coaches, carrying 360 passengers. In the United States a corresponding main-line train would consist of about seven cars carrying 400 people. Typical third-class carriages in Britain provide seats for 64 passengers, and weigh from 27 to 33 tons. French second-class cars (corresponding with British third) provide seats for from 68 to 72 passengers, and weigh 43 to 46 tons. Typical American day cars seat from 80 to 110 passengers, and weigh from 45 to 67 tons. Conditions are, of course, vastly different in Britain and America: British conditions more closely approximate to those existing in New Zealand than in the United States, that land of long distances and “big railroading.” The average passenger haul at Home works out at approximately 13 miles. This compares with the American figure of 40 miles, the Canadian 80 miles, the German 15 miles, the Belgian 16 miles, and the French 24 miles.
Comfortable accommodation on trains undoubtedly plays an important part in attracting passenger business. There are, however, other factors pertaining to this question. Nowadays, the average traveller looks for many facilities undreamt of in years gone by, and not the least appreciated of these advantages centres around the conduct of the catering department, and the provision, at all the important stations, of appetising refreshments, served in clean and pleasant surroundings. The Home railways have attained a very high standard of excellence in the catering branch, and the dining cars and refreshment rooms operated by the four big group systems bring much business to the respective undertakings.
To the chain of refreshment rooms operated by the London and North Eastern Railway, a new Georgian tea room, containing many novel features, has recently been added to the King's Cross terminal, London. The new tea room is 48ft. long by 41ft. wide, and is capable of seating, at small tables, more than one hundred people. The furnishings and fittings are of mahogany of Georgian style, with blue leather chair seats and blue inset table tops of rubber composition. The flooring of blue rubber composition is noiseless and dustless. The walls and ceilings are of graduated tints, the colours ranging from warm orange to light primrose, giving a rising sun effect, while the electric light fittings are of the modern angular reflector type. An ante-room, designed for quick service, is fitted with automatic refrigerator, urns and heating apparatus, and is white tiled throughout. The entrances from the station platform are made draught proof by the employment of revolving doors, and, altogether, the new King's Cross tea room is an excellent example of the modern railway refreshment room.
Passenger Accommodation Up-To-Date.
The new Georgian Tea Room King's Cross Station, London.
The National Work of Mr. Tatlow
Mr. A. H. Tatlow, who, for the past twenty years, has guided the publicity activities of the South African Railways Administration, retired on superannuation in May last. His work as Manager of the Publicity Department of the Railways, and Managing Editor of the “South African Railways and Harbours Magazine,” has been described as a “national achievement.” We have pleasure in publishing the following article (kindly supplied by Messrs. H. Miles and C. S. Stokes, of the Railways Publicity Department in South Africa), which gives some interesting particulars of the national significance of Mr. Tatlow's life's work for Publicity in South Africa.
Mr A. H. Tatlow, who, in connection with South Africa's national publicity work is widely known from one end of the Union to the other, severed his active association with the Railway Service on 13th May.
Mr. Tatlow arrived in Natal in 1903, and entered the service of the Natal Government Railways. Thereafter he was, in large measure, the vital force behind the Garden Colony's initial publicity undertakings, being for several years largely responsible for the issue of the Natal Railways advertising literature, which included the Descriptive Guide and Official Handbook to Natal, published in 1911, and comprising some 600 pages. This volume has a prominent place on African and other library shelves.
In 1910, when Union came about, Mr. Tatlow was appointed manager of the South African Railways and Harbours Publicity Department, an office created by the amalgamation of the three railway systems, so that for twenty years he has been at the helm of this country's national publicity movement. During these two decades he has been prominently associated with particular publicity undertakings of considerable consequence, such as the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley, opened in 1924, when South Africa's exhibit created wide-spread interest of much benefit to this country. Mr. Tatlow was organising secretary in connection with the Union's display at that exposition, so that in no inappreciable measure the success of this country's representation was due to his efforts, first in South Africa, and later in London, where he remained, in a supervisory capacity, during the months that the Empire's products, attractions, and the like, were made known in Wembley's shop window, as it were.
Mr. A. H. Tatlow.
Apart from the internal national advertising, a movement for making South Africa more widely known overseas, was instituted in 1914, but the intervention of the Great War delayed the launching of the campaign until 1920, when a South African Publicity Branch was opened in London by Mr. Tatlow, who went to England for the purpose.
Again in 1924 the Publicity Manager journeyed overseas, when he exhaustively explored the American tourist field, from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific, as a consequence of which he was able to suggest that the Railway Administration commence active tourist propaganda work in the United States. The outcome of this recommendation was that a South African Publicity Bureau was established in New York in 1926. It should be noted that Mr. Tatlow had paid an earlier visit to America, in 1913, and had even then stimulated a good deal of interest in South Africa.
Interesting Exhibit at a Model Engineers' Exhibition in New Zealand.
A view of the Roberts-Stewart-Roberts Railway exhibit at the New Zealand Society's Model and Experimental Engineers' Exhibition at Auckland. The Exhibition was visited by over 2,000 people.
(Photo, W. W Stewart.)
Springing from the inauguration of the overseas offices, the tourist traffic and tide of business visitors from both Europe and America have increased enormously, with the result that a very considerable sum of “new” money is put into circulation yearly in this country. On a conservative basis, it is estimated that an amount totalling £10,000,000 has been netted by South Africa in the last six years as a direct result of the publicity work carried out in Europe and America under the guidance of the Union's Publicity Manager.
It is perhaps in his role as the principal protagonist of municipal publicity that Mr. Tatlow's name has become most widely known and respected throughout South Africa. There is, one imagines, no corner of this country that he has not visited, and hardly a village into which he has not instilled the community publicity idea.
The annual Publicity Conferences that are now attended by delegates from the far corners of the Union, and even beyond, go to show with what success this laborious work has been rewarded. At the Publicity Conference held last November, Mr. Tatlow was unanimously elected an honorary life member, and was the recipient of valuable presentations, made by the delegates to Mr. and Mrs. Tatlow, as tokens of appreciation of the work Mr. Tatlow has so long and ably done in the interests of South Africa.
Another monument to Mr. Tatlow's keen efforts is the large and ever-growing collection of handbooks, through the medium of which the prospective holiday-maker, industrialist, or investor is able to obtain detailed and authentic information on every town of importance in South Africa.
When Mr. Tatlow first became associated with our publicity movement, municipal enterprise of this type was practically non-existent, and it is chiefly due to his endeavours that today we are able to call on a veritable library of well-compiled and illustrated booklets that compare most favourably with overseas productions of a similar character.
Those people, scattered throughout the country, who have listened to Mr. Tatlow's enthusiastically-delivered and instructive lectures, will realise, as well as any, just what a force the South African Railways and Harbours Publicity Department is now losing.
For twenty-five years, first as Editor and later as Managing Editor, Mr. Tatlow has guided and guarded the interests of the “South African Railways and Harbours Magazine,” which may well be described as a child of his brain. The journal was started by him in Natal in 1905, as an outcome of a Railwayman's Lecture and Debating Society, in which he was the moving spirit, and it has continued to make a monthly appearance ever since, although its title underwent a change in the early part of its existence.
When Childhood's Dreams Come True.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
Mr. Jonas's interesting model locomotive shewn at the New Zealand Society's Model and Experimental Engineers' Exhibition, held recently in Auckland. (The driver, who looks fascinated with his charge, is Master Ken Jonas.)
To-day, the magazine is well to the fore, amongst monthly publications of like character (it is the world's largest of its kind), and, without the Administration being directly responsible, it acts as a Service organ throughout the country's transportation system, publishing matter calculated to be of educative value to its readers, which include many quite outside railway spheres, and also in other countries.
Details of the Administration's progress are disseminated through the journal's pages, and reports of the happenings and developments in overseas and other transportation circles are garnered and reported through the magazine. It provides what is an ideal medium for the publication of the General Manager's Bulletin, and through its South African travel articles, it influences its readers in the Union towards travel within their own country, and further directs the attention of overseas people to the wealth of attractions and possibilities that South Africa possesses.
When he retires, Mr. Tatlow will have controlled the publication of three hundred odd issues of the magazine—for special numbers have commemorated certain outstanding happenings in our history—and it is questionable whether any other individual person in South African journalistic circles can claim such a record, of which the subject of this tribute may very justifiably be proud.
The retiring Publicity Chief has done a great deal for the cause of the poster artist in this country, for he has consistently influenced municipalities and other public bodies to advertise the amenities of their respective places through the media of pictorial designs exhibited on hoardings. Thus, pictorial poster art has developed considerably in the Union during the last decade or two.
Nor must reference be omitted to the extensive and important commercial branches of the Railway Publicity Department. The chain of railway bookstalls extends to all parts of the Union, and vast quantities of books, periodicals, and newspapers are handled annually by this large off-shoot of the departmental activities. As Manager of the Publicity organisation, Mr. Tatlow has, of course, controlled the operation of the bookstalls, and has been further responsible for the multifarious advertising undertaken
In connection with these commercial activities it is interesting to note, for example, that travellers approaching Capetown are enabled to purchase, while on the train, copies of newspapers, and this system has been put into operation throughout the Union. To illustrate the practice, due to the Railway Publicity Department's organisation, copies of papers are rushed out of the latter city by the earliest available train in the morning or evening, and so greet railway passengers travelling seaward, while they are still many miles distant from Capetown.
As regards the poster and show-case advertising. South Africans can take a particular pride in what the Publicity Department has done for them in these directions, and widely-travelled persons often declare that the advertising on Capetown station is, in attractiveness, equal to any to be found in far older countries. The Publicity Department likewise controls the large number of sweetmeat and other automatic machines on railway stations throughout the Union, so that there, too, Mr. Tatlow has been called on to give an ever-watchful eye.
About the end of May, Mr. and Mrs. Tatlow sailed for England and the Continent, and will be away from South Africa for about six months. It is their intention to settle in Capetown, and Mr. Tatlow has already been elected to the executive of the Cape Peninsula Publicity Association, to which body his wise counsels and wide experience will be of great assistance.
A gathering in honour of Mr. and Mrs. Tatlaw, and organised by the committee of the S.A.R. and H. Magazine and the staff of the Railway Publicity Department, was held at Railway Headquarters, Johannesburg, on the evening of Monday, 12th May. The function was very largely attended, and opportunity was then taken of making presentations, as mementoes of esteem, to the retiring Publicity Manager, and Mrs. Tatlow.
In concluding this appreciation, it is appropriate to remark on the very happy relationships which have always existed between Mr. Tatlow and the large staff of his Department, and it is certain that none will more keenly regret the Publicity Manager's retirement from official life than will the personnel of the Railway Publicity Department.
On the Way to New Zealand's Geyserland.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
The new Auckland-Rotorua “Limited Express” entering the Parnell tunnel, about one mile from Auckland City.
“The natural destiny of New Zealand is to become one of the chief playgrounds of the world.”
—Sir James Barrett, Melbourne.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
A party of tourists on the majestic Franz Josef Glacier, South Westland, New Zealand.
Merry Winter Sports at Mount Cook and Tongariro
Cheap travel arrangements and mountain thrills for the public are now supplied through the co-operation of the Railway Department with the Mount Cook Motor Company Ltd., and the Tongariro Park Tourist Company, Ltd. In a booklet prepared by the Railway Publicity Branch the following interesting particulars are included.
Many distinguished visitors to New Zealand have expressed great astonishment at the people's slowness to take advantage of the wonderful facilities for exhilarating winter sports at Mount Cook and the Tongariro National Park.
That well-known mountaineer, the Rt. Hon. L. S. Amery, formerly Secretary of State for the Dominions, said that he spent some of the most pleasant days of his life in the Mount Cook region.
“The wonderful opportunity which the whole of this alpine country offers to New Zealanders,” Mr. Amery remarked, “seems to me to have been hardly realised… . . But, after all, the attracting of tourists from outside is only a secondary matter to what the mountains can offer to New Zealanders themselves.
“I see no reason why, like the Swiss, the New Zealanders should not find their main recreation and training in mind, limb, and courage in their own beautiful mountains,” concluded Mr. Amery. “There is an unlimited scope there for holidays of infinite variety and interest, well within the means of every class.”
Similar remarks could apply to the Tongariro Park, which is now equipped with a fine modern Chateau.
“Thousands of Feet Above Worry Level”
At the Hermitage, Mt. Cook.
At the Mount Cook Hermitage there is ever a season of merriment, indoors and out. This hostel is renowned for its “Christmas Spirit.” Whether this joyousness proves more intensive in winter than in summer depends on the individual.
“I have visited the old and the new Hermitage in summer between thirty and forty times during the last thirty-six years, and I am satisfied that there is more pleasure to be found there in winter than in the summer,” declared the late Sir John Findlay. “The great building is most comfortable. The heating system is up-to-date, and thoroughly efficient and reliable, and the electrical installation for light, radiators, and cooking is one of the best in New Zealand.”
After the happy hours of ski-ing, tobogganing, skating, glissading, amid peerless scenes of sparkling majesty, the holiday-makers have the roaring log fires, songs and stories and radio music, and dancing, billiards, and cards.
Cosy huts at the principal glaciers are bases for very thrilling glides and slides on far-reaching snowfields, and the fireside nights in those lonely outposts have their own special charm.
Norwegian and New Zealand ski experts are available for the coaching of novices, who soon learn how to glide swiftly over the snowfields.
The Mount Cook Hermitage has been praised as a marvel of organisation and equipment for the comfort, health, and happiness of tourists. Cosily built in the “Valley of Wonders,” 2,500ft. above the sea, it gives views of an inspiring stage on which Alpine Kings have permanent parts. Chief of these is Mount Cook, whose glistening triple tiara is peerless among the world's jewelled crowns.
This Hermitage is an ideal base for all manner of pleasant, exhilarating outings to suit the wishes of all visitors. Ambitious alpinists can have the utmost thrills among the glaciers, ridges and peaks. Other folk, not eager for the strenuous life, can have delightful, easy little picnics to many beautiful places.
Yet this refreshing retreat, far above the hurly-burly of common things, is only twelve hours from Christchurch or Dunedin, twenty-four hours from Wellington, forty-eight hours from Auckland, and less than a week away from Sydney or Melbourne.
That slogan for this hotel—“Thousands of feet above worry level”—is memorably true, but it calls for some additions. It is thousands of feet above germy dust and fluff, smoke, and fumes.
Visitors to the Hermitage eat well, sleep well, think well. When the morning sun sparkles on the diadem of Aorangi it gives an impression of the first day of a newly – made world, created in the night. This clear air makes a mockery of distances, so that remote peaks seem to leap at the observer.
The Hermitage has been described as “a miniature township.” It is a fully licensed hotel; it has a post office, with regular mail services and telephonic and telegraphic communications. It has a store with stocks of confectionery, tobacco, cigarettes etc., photographic films, post-cards, special photographs, and all manner of articles which a tourist may need. The photographic service includes “same-day” developing and printing.
All kinds of equipment required for winter or summer alpine outings can be hired at the Hermitage.
Printed in Two Colours.
Cover design of N.Z.R. “Merry Winter Sports” booklet.
The editor has before him a “Souvenir Diary of the Kirk Party” (about twenty excursionists who had a very bright time at Mount Cook last winter). Some of the fun and frolic is shown in illustrations, for which photos were supplied by Mr. A. A. Kirk. Here are some passages from the diary:—
“Sunday, 19th August, broke a beautiful sunshiny
“With a view to testing our physical fitness and also to obtaining some practice in skiing, we decided to make the saddle of Mount Sebastopol our objective for the day. The climb at the start seemed steep, while the sun blazed down with tropical intensity. This seemed to puzzle several of our party, who had adorned themselves in their best winter garb.
“The saddle was soon reached, and here all comers tried their hands and feet at ski-ing. Some were first-timers; others had tried conclusions on the ski-ing field during the previous season. Needless to state, the latter were well versed in the orthodox slogans, and never failed to inform the new-chum that it was really quite simple. ‘Just bend your knees and lean forward,’ the advice went. ‘No! not like that; you'll fall. There! I said you would.’”
Unique and Health-Giving Sport.
Making the best of it.
“The short time in which most of the party attained a moderate stage of proficiency was really amazing. When, two days later, we found ourselves on the Ball Glacier following the same pursuit, there were few, if any, who were not getting the maximum amount of fun and satisfaction out of this exhilarating pastime.”
“Twice we approached the top of the glacier, and twice we skied down to the base, a distance of about a mile and a half. By this time the snow was freezing hard, and the prospects for one final flutter down the glacier seemed too tempting to miss. Accordingly a competition was arranged, and free drinks were offered to the one who could ski right down the glacier and fall the fewest number of times.
“George started. Away he went like the wind. Could he conquer that first rise? Yes! And that broken part? Wonderful! Hullo! He's over! Away goes the next one, and others follow in quick succession.
“‘Fast,’ was no name for it; yet we were all surprised at our freedom from spills. Could it last? Hullo! Here's trouble! One lady is overtaking one of the men. A collision is inevitable. But no! Rather than crash she sails in behind him and, with clever presence of mind, catches hold of his shoulders, and both glide perfectly for fully a quarter of a mile, until at last the tension becomes too great, and over they go.
“Everybody covered the distance with only three spills each.”
A Marvellous Playground.
At last an old prophecy has been fulfilled. Many world travellers have predicted that
This park, which is only ten miles from the Main Trunk Railway, is circled by motor roads, and is remarkably easy of access from all districts of the Island. “The Park is the grandstand of schools for education in wild nature—in geology, vulcanology, subalpine and alpine flora, glacial action, the action of running water on rock—all the processes of Nature that the highland country shows,” writes Mr. James Cowan in a very interesting illustrated book on this Park. “Steaming craters, sulphurous pits, a boiling lake, ice-cold lakes, glaciers, snowfields, alpine slopes inviting ‘snowmanship’ in sport, torrents and bubbling springs, rapids, and waterfalls, huge cliffs and rocky pinnacles, forests and wild fern gardens, mountain meadows bright with leagues of flowers — to enumerate the varied scenes of Tongariro Park is almost to make a catalogue of all New Zealand's landscapes.”
Moreover, Tongariro Park flanks the Thermal Wonderland of Taupo, Wairakei, and Rotorua, and the world's best waters for rainbow trout.
Feats of Ski Experts.
These professionals cheerfully and skilfully “coach” beginners.
During recent years well-organised sports have drawn numbers of joyseekers to the vast snowfields of Tongariro National Park. With the present arrangements for satisfactory accommodation, it is already a favoured resort for holiday making, and present indications point to its being increasingly visited now that a convenient train service supplies such excellent connections for visitors.
The builders are now putting the finishing touches on the new station at Auckland, and, in the course of a few months, this fine northern railway terminal will be officially opened. Some of the chief features and facilities of the new building are described in the following article.
Auckland's new railway station proves beyond doubt that Government buildings can be a combination of architectural beauty and usefulness.
Even now, when the interior scaffolding is being removed, one glimpses vistas of strong vital arches and immense spaces, which lend dignity to the future rendezvous of thousands of animated travellers.
It is not too early to judge the final result, although the clang of hammer and shovel and trowel makes mechanical music where formerly riveting machines, concrete drills, and lumbering winches occupied the attention of hundreds of workmen. Most of the essentials have been completed, and by September the last of the dust will have been cleared away, the tiles and counters dusted, and the brasses polished in readiness for alert porters and their parcels, a gold-braided stationmaster, and the rest of a busy and efficient staff.
It has been an immense task, building the finest railway station in New Zealand, and one of the best in the Southern Hemisphere. But it has been worth it, for this station is an architectural masterpiece and a monument worthy of a great State Department, and the City of Auckland.
The Imposing Booking Hall.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
View of the Main Booking Hall. (The street entrance is on the right and the concourse entrance on the left.)
Come with me up the sloping ramp from Beach Road, up which trams and motor cars will hustle with passengers soon after September. It is a wide and spacious thoroughfare leading to what might be the studded doors of some mediæval castle—adjusted to modern requirements. Along the balustrades workmen are placing the last of the decorative blocks of grey Coromandel granite, beautiful in texture, which will grow still more beautiful as it is tempered by the weather of years to come.
Notice, too, how this grey granite has been used for the whole base of the huge building. Surely it will tempt other architects and builders to demand such fine stone for similar ventures. There is no need to go overseas for it.
Avoid the bricks and beams, and step inside the main entrance hall. But for the scurrying noise of men polishing the marble floor it might
High overhead is a ceiling in colour of intricate design. Pale green, rose and gold are the prevailing colours. Lower down is some of the finest brick-work ever seen in New Zealand, so perfect has it been modelled and adjusted. At either end are two immense columns of Whangarei marble—warm and delicately veined, and set off to perfection against the red bricks.
Auckland's New Railway Terminus.
The new station building from the western approach ramp.
Above the entrance are two magnificent windows. Will the public appreciate the work which has been put into them, their dignity of style, and their cathedral-like quality? I think so, and yet, in admiring them, it would be possible and almost a privilege to miss a train. Telephone boxes have been adroitly hidden in the wide walls, part of the scheme of design, and yet not of it. How perfectly the architects have done their work here as elsewhere!
Out under a splendid arch of decorative brickwork on to the concourse—a wide and glass-covered thoroughfare, on to which open restaurant and tearooms, the post and telegraph office, ticket and luggage offices, waiting-rooms, bath rooms and lavatories, the barber's shop, book, sweet and fruit shops. From the side of this concourse run the underground passageways to the various platforms.
Here again, on the concourse, beauty has not been sacrificed. Along it runs a border of tiles in brown and dull orange, also used round the bases of the supporting pillars, and here and there, at regular intervals, specially designed tiles representing the history of transport—a delightful story in themselves.
Tiles and terracotta play a part of vast importance in the whole building. They are now regarded as one of the most perfect materials in modern building construction. They combine use, beauty, cleanliness and lasting quality, as no other material does. Terracotta, made in Australia, has been used on the outside of the station, and blends perfectly with the brickwork. But inside you will notice the tiles—and still more tiles. In the tearoom the counters and the lower parts of the walls are bright with tiles of a floral design; in the kitchen they are warm but not quite white, in the bathrooms they are pure white glaze with a design in blue; in the waiting-room there are two lovely Dutch tiles, works of art in themselves, and made by a process which could belong only to a master of his craft. These two are for decoration only.
Notice, too, the beauty of New Zealand polished rimu in the waiting-room; that lovely piece
It would be a long story to tell of each office separately; of how radiators have been artfully placed in the walls as part of the general decorative scheme; of the 30 or 40 clocks which will tell the passing of time in any part of the building; of the huge forecourt facing the building where a tall and slender flag-pole will be surrounded by flowerbeds and grass plots; of the new concrete roads approaching and leaving the platforms; of the concealed lights which will flood the main entrance.
Auckland's new station is grand but not ornate. Its beauty will astonish the public; its comfort and convenience will positively startle them. Nothing has been left to chance—nothing is tawdry, efficiency and perfection have been the keynotes of a building which is to replace Auckland's present collection of offices, which does duty as the city's railway terminus.
Lumsden Station Garden
A Visitor's Impressions.
Miss L. M. Houseman, a visitor from England, sent to the Otago Daily Times the following letter, in which she gives her impression of the Lumsden station garden:—“Travelling alone through New Zealand, I one day had to wait for my train at Lumsden, Southland, where I was pleasantly surprised to find a lovely little garden with seats in it, close to the station. I settled there on one of the seats with my book, and enjoyed the flowers till lunch time. During a delicious lunch at the station refreshment room, chatting with the manageress, I heard more about the garden, which, she told me, was made only last August. She also said that lately there had been a competition for station gardens on that branch of line, and that the prize was given to Lumsden. On returning to my seat in the garden, I found the gardener, Mr. G. W. Johnson, at work, and made friends with him (being a keen gardener myself at Home). He told me how he had worked at the making of this garden from its first beginning, and pointed out all the plants he had raised from seed and planted out, with great success. They all looked thriving. They were arranged with such good taste in grouping and colour schemes. He told me that he is an enginedriver on the Southland line, and that in his leisure time he tends this very pretty garden. A large rose bed in the middle is called ‘England.’ One at the side, containing heather, is ‘Scotland,’ and a third is ‘Ireland.’ I am sure that other travellers who may have to wait for a train at Lumsden will find the beautiful flowers as cheering as I found them.”
Soon to Resound to the Tread of Hastening Feet.
The main concourse of Auckland's new station looking towards the Booking Hall.
Wellington Public Libraries.
Crossing the Famous Waikato R
Rly. Publicity photo
One of the most picturesque scenes on the New Zealand Railways. The Auckland-Rotorua “Limited Express” passing over the Hamilton Railway Bridge, on the run to the Rotorua Thermal Wonderland.
“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 results which almost invariably follow such efforts.”
This sentence is taken from last month's “General Manager's Message,” and is part of an appeal that Mr. Sterling made to the railways staff in the course of that message.
But the appeal to help build up business for the railways service may just as fairly be addressed to the public as to the railways staff. The public are shareholders in the concern. Their capital is at issue. In the matter of vested interest, there is no distinction between the railway staff man and the ordinary New Zealander, except that the former is an employee as well as a shareholder. They actually row in the same boat.
To build up business for the railways service is to build up internal trade. At the moment external trade meets intense temporary difficulties. The exports that have to pay for imports are not this year pulling their former weight in gold values. To buy within New Zealand will therefore help the balance of trade. There are New Zealand commodities that constitute cheaper and better buying if the people of New Zealand knew about them.
The railways system is the chief transport factor in internal trade. In the exchange of commodities within New Zealand it provides services and freight that no other transport system could or would supply. It provides extraordinarily low freights on New Zealand-grown fruit, and it also complements this train freight with a very low delivery freight by railless services that operate in cities and large towns. Thus the New Zealand fruit-grower's New Zealand customers in the population centres may receive fruit in case, direct from the orchard or packing station to their homes, at a very low total cost.
This complementary delivery service from railway station to home is parallel with the “deliver-to-your-door” policy of the modern motor transport. Such delivery service—arranged with local motor interests—is obtainable in eleven cities and towns of New Zealand at the very low rate of sixpence per case, available to residents within a wide radius of the railway station. For instance, a case of Tauranga lemons costs by rail eightpence (8d.) for carriage from Tauranga to Lambton (Wellington) railway station, and from Lambton to the suburban home of the person ordering the case the cost is sixpence (6d.), total freight 1/2—a remarkable achievement in the way of the much-talked-of co-ordination of rail and road.
The writer, who happens to live in Wellington, did not realise what these opportunities mean to the consumer until he made a trip to Tauranga in February. He paid to the Tauranga Citrus Association thirteen shillings and some pence (the transaction was not deemed at the time to be of sufficient importance to make an exact note) for a case of second-grade lemons. The case, on being opened in Wellington, turned out to have fifteen dozen and three lemons (183), so that the whole cost was appreciably under a penny each. These lemons were at least as good for domestic purposes as imported lemons selling in February in the Wellington shops for 2d. each, and not much inferior to those selling at 3d. each.
The reader will ask: What was the evidence of quality? The answer is: The lemons were parcelled out among three housewives. One made lemon jam; another made lemon cheese; and each approved the other's manufacture—no mean test. The best evidence of approval is that they exchanged recipes. The third housewife relied on no culinary skill. She simply kept the lemons on a shelf for occasional use. She kept some from February to June. And she lost none.
Do people realise the opportunity that the railway service offers them in case fruit alone? What is true of these lemons is probably true of other fruits. Do people realise the opportunities of buying and selling in case lots, instead of purchasing, retail, imported fruit at double or treble the cost? Do they sense the benefit to buyer, to grower, and to the railways.
If the average household of New Zealand diverted only fifteen per cent. of its fruit consumption to the case-order method, profiting by transport concessions, the resultant gain to internal transport would be substantial, and a great deal of this trade would be new trade, not a subtraction from the volume of retail business. In one way or another, nearly every New Zealander can help to “build up business for the railways.”
Assoc.M.Inst.C.E., Assistant Engineer, N.Z. Railways, Wellington.)P. B. Bryden ,
To the Maintenance Branch of the railways is entrusted the design, construction and maintenance of the railway track and structures, no small part of the operations of the Branch being directed to the upkeep of our fifty-three miles of bridges. In the following article some interesting particulars are given of bridge building reconstruction work now in progress in the North Island.
Our railway bridges owe their safety largely to their being kept in good condition; also, they were costly to build, and are even more costly to replace, so that this portion of our equipment requires the greatest care in inspection and maintenance, as is well known to those engineers, foremen, inspectors, and bridge-men, to whom the safekeeping of bridges is entrusted. On the New Zealand Railways a high standard of bridge maintenance has always been observed, and its economy is now amply demonstrated in the excellent condition of many of our old bridges which still have a long remaining useful life, whereas with less careful maintenance they might easily have been reduced, before this, through corrosion, to an unserviceable condition.
Careful maintenance, however, cannot do more than check the loss of strength with age. While often giving the impression of permanency, bridge structures, like railway rolling stock, or any other industrial plant, are all the time depreciating and becoming obsolete. Their timbers begin to decay, and steel and ironwork becomes corroded, thus losing strength. Obsolescence will often be a powerful though indirect factor in determining the life of a bridge. The utility of a bridge becomes restricted by its load-carrying capacity, and when traffic conditions call for increasing axle loadings, a stage is reached where economy demands an increase of strength in the bridge, and this may necessitate complete reconstruction.
Rebuilding the Ngaruawahia Bridge.
Photo, J. T. Louden.
Commencement of cylinder sinking in the main foundations.
In the Railways Statement, 1929, the requirements and policy with regard to bridge strengthening and reconstruction has been outlined, and in accordance with this policy several important bridge reconstruction works have been put in hand during the past financial year.
The bridges concerned are the Ngaruawahia, Whenuakura, Otaki, Oroua and Waikanae bridges. These are all old timber structures, which are being replaced by new bridges of steel and concrete construction built alongside. The old bridges, originally constructed about fifty years ago for the light traffic of those earlier days, have been strengthened from time to time to carry, with safety, the increasing axle loadings and denser traffic of to-day, and, in this way, have been made to serve for as long a period as possible. Further strengthening would
The New Whenuakura Bridgeworks.
Commencement of the new foundation work. Reinforced concrete cylinder on left ready for sinking.
With one exception (Whenuakura bridge) all the reconstructions now in hand are on the Auckland-Wellington Main Trunk line, so that the policy has been followed as far as possible of concentrating first on the elimination of weaknesses on the most important sections. The object of this is to obtain, as soon as possible, savings in operating expenses in return for the expenditure involved in reconstruction. (The removal of restrictions on the running of some of the heavier types of engines will have this effect.)
The Ngaruawahia bridge crosses the Waikato River at Ngaruawahia, near Frankton. The new bridge will have three 120ft. main spans crossing the river, and three short approach spans. The superstructure will be of steel plate girders in the short approach spans and steel trusses for the main spans, which will be of the “through” type, to afford sufficient headroom for steamer traffic on the river. The main shore piers are of mass concrete construction on piled foundations, and the high piers in the stream will be constructed by sinking pairs of 10ft. diameter reinforced concrete cylinders to a depth of about 40ft. below water level.
As the new bridge is being constructed on a site alongside the existing bridge, a deviation of the line is required at each end to form the approaches to the new bridge. These approaches have been constructed by railway workers.
A contract for the construction of the bridge has been let to Mr. B. V. Rope, and good progress is being made with the foundation work, all of which is practically completed, with the exception of one of the cylinder piers in the stream. Cylinder sinking at this pier is now proceeding.
The steelwork for both the Ngaruawahia and Whenuakura bridges, weighing about 460 tons, is being fabricated at the works of Messrs. A. and G. Price, at Thames. The steelwork materials are being shipped from Great Britain to Auckland, and carried by rail to the Thames shops. After fabrication the steelwork will be sent out in parts of suitable size for erection.
The Whenuakura bridge crosses the Whenuakura River between Rangikura and Patea, on the Marton-New Plymouth section.
The old bridge was originally constructed of native timber in about the year 1880, and consisted of two 60ft. trusses of nine 20ft. beam spans all carried on high timber piers. This bridge was carried away in a heavy flood in January, 1922, and the present emergency structure, consisting of 40ft. plate girders on high timber piers, was erected. It was not possible to consider the erection of a permanent bridge at that time owing to the necessity of restoring communication as rapidly as possible. The temporary construction has sufficed to carry traffic at reduced speed in the meantime, but heavy scout
Massive Concrete Piers.
Another view of the new Whenuakura bridge shewing the foundation work nearing completion.
The new bridge will have a main steel truss span of 142ft. and three 60ft. steel plate girder spans. The main piers will be constructed by sinking 10ft. diameter reinforced concrete cylinders and driving piles inside the cylinders. The shore pier at the south end is to be of mass concrete also on a piled foundation, while the abutments are a combination of mass concrete and reinforced concrete construction, piling being dispensed with, and the foundation load distributed over a large area by means of a reinforced concrete raft.
The formation of the approaches to the new bridge has been completed, and the contractors for the construction of the bridge, Messrs. Bird and Codling, are making good progress with the foundation work, being now ready to proceed with the erection of the superstructure.
These bridges are all on the Auckland-Wellington Main Trunk line between Wellington and Marton. The type of bridge adopted in the reconstruction is similar in all three cases, viz., 60ft. deck plate girder spans on mass concrete piers supported on reinforced concrete piles.
The Oroua bridge will have ten spans, the Otaki nineteen, and the Waikanae three. The construction of the steel plate girders (approximately 700 tons of steelwork) is now being carried out at the Hutt Railway Workshops, the steel plates and shapes being imported from Great Britain.
The Waikanae bridge is being reconstructed on the site of the present bridge, and it was, therefore, impracticable to consider letting a contract for the work, which has to be carried out under traffic conditions. Railway gangs have now been at work for some weeks on the construction of the new foundations.
Construction of the New Bridge Over the Otaki River.
The illustrations shew: (left) some of the completed concrete piers, the present temporary bridge and the old bridge; (right) pile driving operations.
The Otaki and Oroua bridges are each being reconstructed a short distance upstream from the existing bridge. In order to obtain easy curves on the approaches, so that maximum speeds can be run on the deviations, the new centre lines are slightly divergent from the lines of the present bridges.
The construction of the embankments on the approaches to both these bridges has been completed. At Otaki a steam shovel and work train were employed, and the work was carried cut very expeditiously. For the purpose of facilitating the transport of materials and carthwork, and to enable the girders to be run out on trucks from the shops into position alongside the new piers, and thence lifted by
The concrete foundation work is in the hands of contractors. Rapid progress cannot be made with this work, however, because of the hard driving encountered in putting down the reinforced concrete piles in the shingle riverbeds. The contractors for the Otaki bridge foundations are Messrs. Christiani and Nielsen, and for Oroua, Mr. C. Wesley.
In the South Island, during the past year, the strengthening of the Teremakau River and Crooked River bridges, on the Westland section, was completed, and two weak bridges (Nos. 10 and 13) on the Addington-Waiau line were also strengthened up.
From the foregoing it will be seen that quite a comprehensive programme of bridge-work has been carried on during the last twelve months.
A Well-Managed Railway System
Happy indeed is the railway situation in mountainous Switzerland, Australia's western neighbour. The Swiss railways are, indeed, one of the most prosperous transportation concerns in the world, and incidentally one of the best managed. The Swiss Federal Railways report for 1928, recently issued, shows gross earnings for the year as 420,167,809 francs, with expenditure totalling 268,560,076 francs, leaving a surplus of 151,607,733 francs. This figure exceeds the revenue total of 1927 by 23,132,851 francs. During 1928, the Swiss State Railways handled 120 million passengers, an increase of nearly six per cent. over 1927, while on the freight side there were handled 19 million metric tons, an increase over 1927 of six and a half per cent.
Switzerland its pushing rapidly ahead with electrification plans. At January 1, 1929, the Swiss Federal Railways owned 345 electric locomotives for main-line traffic, 20 electric shunting locomotives, 603 normal-guage steam locomotives, and 31 narrow-gauge steam locomotives. Sixty-one of the electric locomotives, it is interesting to note, are equipped for one-man control, a feature enabling vast savings to be made in running expenses.
Switzerland, apart from being one of the leaders in railway electrification, is also to the fore in the development of combined rail and air transport. In Europe, air travel is gradually growing in popularity as its safety becomes more assured, and the strangeness associated with the new form of movement wears off. From the Croydon Air Port, near London, regular British Flying services operate to and from Pairs, Brussels, Cologne and Zurich, while French, German, and other foreign machines also give connection between London and various important continental centres. During 1928, British aircraft in the services named, flew 793,365 miles, without one fatal mishap.—(From our London Correspondent.)
The Reconstruction of the Oroua Bridge.
View from the south abutment shewing the new concrete piers (existing bridge on left of the picture).
The Lumsden Station Garden
The Lumsden railway gardens presented a busy scene when local residents turned out in force to witness the presentation of the Hazlett Cup for the best kept railway garden in Southland (says the Mataura Ensign). Several members of the Southland Women's Club motored from Invercargill to be present at the function and the presentation was made by Mrs. W. T. Hazlett. Before the proceedings commenced, a formal welcome was extended to the visitors by Mr. James Campbell, on behalf of the Lumsden Town Board.
In making the presentation, Mrs. Hazlett congratulated the members of the railway staff on their successful achievement in winning the trophy during the first year of their entry. As a constant visitor to Lumsden during the past few years she had noticed that the garden plot had greatly improved the appearance of the township, and she was pleased to have the honour of presenting the trophy to the Lumsden district. She had pleasure in handing the cup to the winners, and hoped that the residents would take an interest in the area.
Mr. Curran, stationmaster at Lumsden, in accepting the trophy on behalf of the local railwaymen, thanked the speak for her remarks, and the ladies from Invercargill who had found it worth while to pay Lumsden a visit. The Lumsden township was an important tourist centre, and visitors to Queenstown and Lakes Te Anau and Manapouri spent many hours in the district.
An adjournment was then made to the Radio Hall, where afternoon tea was served. Those present were the visitors from Invercargill, members and wives of the Railway staff, and members of the Lumsden Horticultural Society. Mr. T. McCutcheon traced the history of the gardens, and referred to the work that had been done by Mr. G. W. Johnson, of the railway staff, who really had been responsible for the success of the area. Mr. G. W. Johnson also spoke, and thanked the speaker for his flattering remarks. He hoped that next year the garden would be further improved.
A very successful and enjoyable afternoon was concluded when Miss Curran presented Mrs. W. T. Hazlett with a bouquet of roses from the Lumsden residents.
Flowers and fruits are always fit presents—flowers, because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.—Emerson.
The Lumsden Station Garden, Southlad, Winner of the Hazlett Cup, 1930.
Left. A glimpse of the station garden. Right: The presentation of the Cup to Mr. J. Curran, Stationmaster, by Mrs. W. T. Hazlett.
Current Comments
Sir Henry Segrave, holder of the world's speed record on land and water, whose tragic death occurred a few weeks ago in the capsize, on Lake Windermere, of his speedboat, Miss England II., was a railway model enthusiast. He had, on his estate near London, one of the most elaborate toy railways in the world. An American friend recently presented him with a miniature locomotive which cost about £500, thus bringing his total of locomotives to fourteen. He had a large supply of coaches, sleeping cars and freight cars, many of which he built himself. Sir Henry Segrave spent fourteen years assembling his railway system and the machinery with which to run it.
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“If you don't let the railway carry you, you will have to carry the railway.” And not only that, but the engines, carriages, vans, trucks, workshops, stations and other buildings as well. The cleverly designed advertisement of the N.Z.R. delivers an eloquent sermon that should make one and all think seriously. It's akin to Atlas carrying the world on his back. The colossal sum of sixty million pounds sterling is invested in our railway system, and in return for that huge total we have a transport service second to none in the world, unsurpassed in comfort and unequalled in safety. There is one particularly outstanding fact in connection with our railways that we should remember: that all our State-given advantages—postal, educational, manual, agricultural, commercial, etc.—are due to and dependent upon an efficient railroad system, without which the advantages named could not have been developed. Our railways are the Alpha and Omega of all that is necessary and desirable in our national life, and if they are not adequately supported by the mass of the people the numerous other State blessings we enjoy must inevitably be curtailed.—(From the New Zealand Sportsman.)
To handle the trucking arrangements necessary for the despatching of 6,007 head of ewes and rams offered at the recent annual fair conducted by the Canterbury A. and P. Association was no light task, since most of the sheep were brought in small lots, and often a truck was required for a single sheep. “The Railway Department placed a special band of men on the job at the Addington Show Grounds, and they trucked the sheep so efficiently that more than one person expressed his appreciation of their work” (says the Christchurch “Sun”). All the sheep contained in the 180 trucks which came forward on the day preceding the sale were cleared by 6 a.m. the following morning. The sale started at 10.30 a.m., and re-trucking was commenced shortly afterwards, with the result that, by 7 p.m. the same day, 103 wagons had been loaded.
The Auctioneers' Association provided a band of men who brought the sheep up to the trucking stage, and there the Railway Department's men, who numbered five, took charge. Consignments of sheep went as far north as Auckland and as far south as the Bluff.
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There was recently completed, says the London Daily News, the work associated with the London Underground's annual “clip,” and the task of sorting out the 7,000,000 tickets.
Uniformed men were in the subways of the Underground stations, giving a special clip to the tickets of passengers. One hundred and fifty different-shaped punches were employed, among them being a heart, a spade, a diamond, a club, a shield, a square, and a circle.
The object of the test was to discover how passengers are using the Underground for travelling from point to point.
“We are able to find out,” said an official, “if people are going by the shortest routes. It assists us to cater more efficiently for the public by ascertaining their requirements.
)James Cowan .
In this article the writer gives a narrative of an official exploring tour in 1892 along the proposed route of the North Island Main Trunk railway from South Auckland to Taranaki, linking up the two provinces, which at that time were quite isolated from each other. This route was discarded in favour of the present Central route, via Taumarunui, Waimarino and Taihape, but it is now being completed as a necessary connection between Auckland and Taranaki. The writer describes the King Country as it was nearly forty years ago, before white settlement had transformed the face of the great Rohepotae territory.
Our jumping-off place that summer morning of long ago was Te Kuiti, a rough shop those days, when it was the Head of the Line, and when the big beyond of the Rohepotae lay wrapped in mystery to all but the Maori owners of the soil and the surveyors, and the tough men of the out-of-doors whose business it was to skirmish ahead of settlement and make the first roads and railways.
Not an acre of King Country land had passed into white farmers' hands, not a pakeha homestead redeemed the wastes of fern and manuka southward of the Puniu River, the old Aukati or boundary between pakeha and Maori. Except for the thin line of the Main Trunk rail pushed a little way into the open fern country from the Waikato side—and that only by sufferance of the tattooed lords of the land, headed by the huge-framed imperious, kingly-looking Wahanui (the “power behind the Maori throne” we called him), the Rohepotae still lay purely Maori. Otorohanga and Te Kuiti were the Ngati-Maniapoto headquarters, and there we used to see the chiefs whose names were writ large in its story of the Kingite wars, swart old heroes who eschewed the trousers of the paleface and stalked free-limbed in blanket and waist-shawl.
Now the white man was coming, and presently his iron rail and his locomotive would make the trail that was to cut through the mana of the Maori. Just now it was the transition period; the pakeha settler was climbing over the wall. We were some of those pakehas, and it was our business to help blaze the way. The “battle of the routes” was on. Aucklanders were mostly in favour of making the railway to Taranaki. Wellington wanted the Central route—the present line. There was a huge gap to fill, right down to Marton. The middle portion of the Main Trunk of to-day was a blank on the map, so far as rail and road were concerned.
There were nine of us who fell in that morning at Harry Tanner's little bush store and accommodation house in Te Kuiti, and each, according to his judgment, picked out a horse from the mob of Maori-bred animals that the packer brought along. We saddled up for the three days' ride to the Big Bush, where the horse trail ended and the long march on foot began. First, there was the Boss, Charles Wilson Hursthouse—called by the Maoris “Wirihana”—the District Surveyor, of whom more later; there was another surveyor, and there was a Minister of the Crown, that gentlest mannered of politicians, quiet, lovable Alfred Jerome Cadman, at that time holding the portfolio of Native Affairs, and later Minister for Railways; there were two Auckland members of Parliament—Frank Lawry and Jackson Palmer; there was a stalwart member of the Auckland Railway League; a chainman-bushman-guide by the name of Julian; Puhi, the Maori packer and axeman; and the narrator, the most youthful of the squad, but used from small-boy days to riding about this Maori country.
Stratford was a hundred and thirty miles away. Our job was to traverse the intervening country, all but unknown, in order to judge of
Behold us, then, two days later, a sufficiently rough-looking band, mounted on our sturdy Maori ponies, trailing in single file down the mountain side from the Poro-o-tarao, and opening up a wide, wild prospect of green forests and blue ranges, far-spreading valleys, and silver river peeps, with great rugged kopje-like crags of volcanic rock building a skyline on the south. No wheel roads then, in ’Ninety-two; the only way was a horse track. Below us lay the valley of the Ongarue; we had crossed the divide from the Mokau head waters, and all the streams we saw and forded thenceforth went to swell the Wanganui River.
We rode down into the Ongarue Valley, winding through the tall fern and groves of tawa and rimu, down into the gravel of that divinely clear Maramataha, a tributary stream cascading past the little Maori village of Waimeha from the tableland of the Maraeroa; that way lay the vast unknown West Taupo country.
We cantered over the pumice flats, now and again fording the bright river and skirting Maori cultivations of potatoes and maize on the sheltered terraces.
From the Ongarue, at Te Kawakawa—just about where Ongarue railway station stands to-day, we turned off sharply to the west, between two mighty green hills; and then south-west-ward ho! for the Taranaki bush and Stratford a hundred miles away.
From a hilltop, where our horse track cork-screwed through tall fern and bright green bushes of tupakihi with its clusters of black tutu berries, we had our first look-out over the Ohura Valley, and the seemingly interminable forest, a “boundless contiguity of shade” that stretched from the shadowy undulations below almost to the base of Mount Egmont, over the ranges and far away. A huge and shaggy and lonely land it was. No green field, no fence, no house or even tent, no smoke of settlers' burning-off fire, gave civilised touch to the silent expanse. Valley and hill and glinting stream and dark solemn forest lay bathed in soft blue haze, mysterious, unpeopled; as untouched by man, it seemed to me gazing over it there, as it might have been a thousand years ago.
The Stratford Main Trunk Railway.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The entrance to No. 3 tunnel (4,000ft. in length) between Mangaone and Mangatete, 53 miles from Stratford.
“Take a good look at the Ohura,” said “Wirihana,” turning in his saddle; “this is the last bird's-eye view you'll get of it.”
And this was true, for in the days that followed we had no such comprehensive eye-sweep
rata top would have given us a commanding view of the huge jumble of wooded ranges that lay around our trail.
The last day of our three days' ride we spent skirting by a bush road the dark, slow-moving Ohura. We camped in the open, getting out of our blankets regretfully in the cold and foggy dawn. We passed three deserted Maori camps of thatch and ferntree trunk, at Makara, Nihoniho and Toitoi. Then it was pikau and footslog through the roadless forest.
There was a curious and painful adventure on our last day's ride. Our track just wide enough for single file travel, entered a thicket of the native ongaonga or stinging-nettle, the urtica ferox of the botanists. It grew ten or twelve feet high, and the fine hair-like prickles on the underside of the leaves brushed us as we rode through. Our hands smarted and tingled; the stinging spines even penetrated trouser legs and set up an intense pain and irritation. One of our party was in a high fever as a result of it, and we had to halt for half a day till he recovered. (Puhi chrisened him “Ongaonga Palmer” in memory of the day). But our poor horses suffered most. The prickles caught them wither-high, and their foreparts and legs presently swelled as if they had been attacked by a swarm of bees. We had to unsaddle some of them. The two packhorses absolutely went mad, and they performed some strange evolutions and even revolutions. One horse in its delirium of agony tried to climb a tree. The other dashed madly off and plunged into a creek; it went head under and drowned itself. If ever there was a suicide of an animal, this was one. Another horse bolted into the bush and disappeared; long afterwards we heard that it had been found dead, killed in its crazy scrambles.
(To be concluded.)
Our Bread and Butter.
Traffic is the bread and butter of the railway family; every employee should be a business-getter, for his own success and for the happiness of those dependent upon him.—President L. A. Downs, Illinois Central Railroad, U.S.A.
One of the Big Works on the Stratford Main Trunk Railway
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A large filling (90ft. from base to rail level) between tunnels Nos. 1 and 2, fifty miles from Stratford.
Acensus taken on 15th May, 1856, showed the population of the province of Canterbury to be at that date 5,347 (males (3,095, females 2,252). The settlement was reported to be making great and healthful progress. It was proposed to borrow £25,000 for purposes of immigration and Public Works.
Forty-Six Years Ago.
Mr. J. Guy, Stationmaster, Pukerau, 1884.
The term for which the Superintendent was elected expired in 1857, and Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald, who had recently recovered from a severe illness, was asked if he would accept the position of Emigration Officer in London, on completion of his term. He accepted the position, but before he left New Zealand, a temporary road (called the Zigzag) was made over the Summit of Evans Pass, and Mr. Fitzgerald had the gratification of driving a trap over this road and declaring the Sumner road open for traffic.
The proposed tunnel under Evans Pass was never made, but the use of the Zig-zag enabled a regular mail service to be conducted over that route between Christchurch and Lyttleton.
Although it had been publicly notified on 9th January, 1858, that the Sumner Road, from Lyttelton, was then open for light cart traffic, and although the steamer “Planet,” of the Canterbury Steam Ship Company, after making a trial trip on 10th February of that year, had provided a service between Lyttelton, the Heathcote River and Kaiapoi, these facilities were found to be insufficient. Apart from the considerable export of wool, there was need for cheaper and more expeditious handling of the agricultural produce of Canterbury, for which produce there was a good market in the northern provinces of New Zealand and in Australia.
Consequently, the Superintendent (Mr. W. S. Moorhouse), when opening the tenth session of the Provincial Council on 1st October, 1858, after congratulating the province on the highly satisfactory state of the finances, referred, among other subjects, to that of communication with the port. He stated that the want of better means of communication between the principal seaport and the plains had long been a source of great embarrassment in the conduct of the commercial operations of the province. Having the advantage of a safe and commodious harbour perfectly adapted to a very large commerce, the germs of which commerce were now commencing a vigorous growth, it had become a matter of the very highest importance that consideration should at once be given to determining the best method of securing the safe and expeditious transit of the marketable produce to the place of export.
To this end he would transmit, for the consideration of the Council, a proposal to construct a line of railway from Lyttelton to Christchurch. This line would involve a tunnel through the heights behind Lyttelton, and would, from the expensive nature of such a work, require a very large outlay of money. It would therefore remain with the Council to consider whether the ultimate advantage to be realised to the province by the completion of the work in question would, or would not, justify the required disbursement.
It may be remembered that the Summer Road Commission of 1854 mentioned two possible lines of railway, viz::—(1) From a deep-water harbour in Gollan's Bay through Sumner Valley to Heathcote Ferry and thence to Christchurch, and (2) a direct line from Lyttelton to Christchurch. The then Superintendent (Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald) was strongly in favour of the direct line, if a railway were to be constructed, but the present Provincial Council considered that further advice was desirable, and recommended the Superintendent to obtain the services of a competent engineer from England to report upon the best means of effecting railway communication. (It may be mentioned here that both Mr. Bray and Mr. Dobson had had considerable engineering experience in England and elsewhere before coming to New Zealand.)
Historic Scene at Lyttelton, 1850.
(Photo, courtesy Lyttelton Harbour Board.)
Passengers landing from the “First Four Ships.”
A Commission having been appointed, consisting of Messrs. Bray, Cass, Harman, Whitcombe, and Wylde, together with the Provincial Engineer (Mr. E. Dobson), and the Provincial Secretary (Mr. John Ollivier) to advise the Superintendent in regard to lines of inland communication, the Council recommended that this Commission should also collect maps, plans, and other information relative to the Lyttelton and Christchurch railway, for the purpose of transmission to England, to be there submitted to an engineering firm of eminence in order to ascertain if they, or any contracting firm, would be willing to undertake the work.
When the information thus obtained was sent to England, Messrs. Selfe (English Agent for Canterbury), J. E. Fitzgerald (Emigration Agent and former Superintendent) and Cummins (London Manager of the Union Bank of Australia) were appointed Commissioners to deal with the negotiations. They consulted Mr Robert Stephenson, then a leading authority on railways, who, with the consent of the Commissioners, placed the matter in the hands of Mr. G. R. Stephenson, who was requested to make a report on the whole subject of the railway communication between the port and the interior.
In his report, which is dated 10th August, 1859, Mr. G. R. Stephenson stated that by study of the detailed surveys and maps which had been submitted, and of a very admirable model constructed by Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald, he had made himself distinctly acquainted with the line of country through which the railway may be constructed. He also had the advantage of several conferences with Mr. W. B. Bray (who was then visiting England and carried credentials from the Superintendent of the Province). The report then reviews the position, and reaches the decision that it is necessary, in order to construct the railway, to pierce the mountain chain surrounding the harbour.
The propositions which have naturally suggested themselves to those who had given their best consideration to the subject resolve themselves into two main projects:—First, to pass to the east of Mount Pleasant by the line known as the Sumner Valley; second, to pass to the west of Mount Pleasant from Christchurch to Lyttelton by a direct line through the hills.
Referring to the first proposition, the line would proceed from Christchurch without any obstacle to the Heathcote Ferry, where a rock cutting would be necessary to pass the river to the south, thence for ninety chains to Moabone Point. About half of this distance of ninety chains would be on mud-flats below high water mark, and this portion of the line would require to be protected by stone walling. Moabone Point would be passed by a tunnel 225 yards long through volcanic rock, and from this tunnel the line would proceed, on easy formation for one mile, except near the Sumner Rocks, where a portion would have to be made across mud-flats with stone walling as before. Sumner Rocks would be passed by a curved tunnel 620 yards long, and immediately succeeding this, another tunnel 88 yards long through a projecting point.
At this point, the mountain chain which is to be pierced may be said to be reached. The length of line from Christchurch to this point is seven miles, and the tunnelling 933 yards.
From the seven mile point there are three propositions for a line to pass the mountain chain, and these may be described respectively as high level, mid-level, and low level.
The high level route would follow the course of the road from Sumner to Lyttelton, through a tunnel 350 yards long under Evans Pass. The grades on the Sumner side would be 1 in 10 to 1 in 14, and on the Lyttelton side about 1 in 19. This line would also virtually destroy the only public highway for cart and cattle traffic. For these, and other reasons (mentioned) this proposal need not be further discussed.
(To be continued.)
Canterbury's Port in the Early Days.
(Photo, courtesy Lyttelton Harbour Board.)
A view of Lyttelton in 1869, shewing the first railway station, goods shed, and the vessels at the wharves.
)Tangiwai .
Many a train traveller passing through the southern Hawke's Bay country has expressed curiosity as to the origin of the town-name Dannevirke. When one comes to inquire into the origin of the name, and also that of Norsewood, a little way off the line, an epic of early-days' pioneering is revealed. All this beautiful country of good pastures and countless dairy herds was, until within the last half-century or so, one vast forest, only useful as a Maori bird-spearing and snaring ground, and a hunting place for wild pigs. It remained in its wild state until some colonising parties of Scandinavians arrived here in the early 'seventies, and set to at the heroic task of making homes in a dense bush wilderness.
On September 15, 1872, two sailing ships, bringing Scandinavian immigrants, dropped anchor at Napier within a few hours of each other. One, the “Hoerden,” was from Norway and Denmark; the other, the “Ballarat,” brought mostly Danish families. Their arrival was the response to efforts made by the New Zealand Government to induce Scandinavian agriculturists to settle in the colony. The new-comers took up land in the forested districts now known as Dannevirke, Norsewood, Makotuku, and Ormondville. Dannevirke itself was founded by twenty-two pioneers; of these, fourteen were Danes, six Norwegians, and two Swedes. The appropriate name—“Danes' Work”—given to this little bush settlement, now a thriving town, commemorated an incident in ancient Danish history, the erection of a line of forts by King Gottrick, in the ninth century, as a protection against foreign invasion; it was to that chain of fortresses that the name Dannevirke was originally given. In all, about 3,000 Danes, Swedes and Norwegians, the Danes predominating were settled in the various districts allotted to the Scandinavian immigrants, and no better stock for the breaking-in work of colonisation ever set axe and saw to the New Zealand bush.
It is always interesting, often fascinating, to turn back the pages of our settlement stories and picture the beginnings of white-man's work in the land. Here is quite a charming vignette of the old-time Flaxbourne lagoons, near the present busy little country town of Seddon, thirty-four miles in from Picton, on the railway run southward through Marlborough. It is from the pen of that admirable figure in New Zealand's settlement and political history, Sir Frederick Weld, who after leaving here became a British Colonial Governor in Malaysia. In 1849, Sir Frederick Weld (then Mr. Weld), was settled, with Mr. Clifford, as a sheep-farmer at Flaxbourne, in Marlborough (Seddon is on the old Flaxbourne estate). He wrote, in a letter to his sister in England, the following description of the lagoons on his run, and the wild-fowl with which they abounded:—
“The Flaxbourne lakes . . remind me in a way of the swannery at Abbotsbury, though on
“… . The exquisite vision
Sinks back to its prison.”—Joyce Jocelyn.
(Photo, C. R. Barrett.)
The Crow's Nest Geyser (near Lake Taupo, North Island) with the swiftly flowing Waikato River in the background.
It is the queerest of geysers, the puia called the Crow's Nest—for the shape of the mound and the sticks criss-crossed on it—on the east bank of the Waikato River, near Taupo. The Crow's Nest is a marvel even in this place of wonders. It shoots up without the slightest premonitary symptoms, throwing its glittering white jet thirty or forty feet, and sometimes higher, into the air; and the deep cold Waikato rolls by within a few feet. When the river is high, in the season of floods, the eruptions are more frequent and the shots are higher. The exact nature of the connection between the rise of the river and the activity of the puia form a subject for discussion at the tourists' tea-table. Where so many obvious theories can be advanced by the new-comer it would be a pity to lay down any dogmatic scientific explanation, with the exception, perhaps, of one I once heard from a Maori as we watched the Crow's Nest spout.
Home declared that when the Waikato was in flood too much cold water soaked through the rock and ran down the geyser's throat and made him “werry wild,” and so he spouted all the more furiously in order to rid himself of the overdose—which probably is a much clearer explanation of the principles of geyser action than that which most learned pakeha visitors can offer.
The little towns of New Zealand, in the older-settled parts, have some pretty corners, some
tui, the two most delightful songsters of the New Zealand bush, live and breed undisturbed. These pretty Minnesingers of the vanishing forests, usually honey-eaters and lovers of small native fruits, have here developed a taste for the pears and plums and cherries of the white man. Up behind the town there are the richest of grass lands. There are tracks that take you up to the craggy skyline, two thousand feet above the waterfront, and so winding are they that the climb is only an easy stroll.
Wool has its ups and downs, and our sheep-station owners would be mighty glad of the price our very first clip from New Zealand fetched in Sydney. That was more than a century ago. Few people, perhaps, would have imagined our greatest staple industry was so old. It is, in fact, a hundred and twelve years since the first little flock was landed at the Bay of Islands by that vigorous shepherd of souls and sheep, the Rev. Samuel Marsden. These sheep, from Parramatta in New South Wales, were put ashore at Te Puna, the early mission station in the Bay. The Rev. John King, one of Marsden's missionaries, who arrived in 1814, was the first shearer. That was in 1824, when the first few sheep landed in 1818 had increased considerably. The clip was eleven bags. The wool was shipped to Sydney, where it was sold for half-a-crown a pound.
“Where the mountains lift, through perpetual snows,
Their lofty and luminous summits.”—Longfellow.
(Photo, G. S. Desgrand, Brisbane.)
The Dart River, Lake Wakatipu, South Island, New Zealand.
It may be that a little wool was sent to Sydney from the Bay of Islands before that date, but the 1824 shipment is the first of which there is definite record. There were, it is true, two or three sheep landed in New Zealand before the missionaries' day. These were the animals put on Motuanauru Island, in Queen Charlotte Sound, by Captain Cook; they soon died, from eating some poisonous plant. No doubt that was the first time imported animals were poisoned by the leaves of the tupakihi—the shrub more generally known as tutu, which is properly only the name of the black fruit. So the history of “tooted” stock goes back a hundred and sixty years.
Joke Wit and Humour
An Irishman got off a train at a station for refreshments, but the train started before he had finished his sandwich. Running along the platform after the train, he shouted: “Hold on, there! Hold on! You've got a passenger aboard that's left behind!”
* * *
Cold Cash.
“My, but it's cold, Sandy!”
“Aye, Jock, an’ so it should be—haven't we paid for it?”
“What time does the next train come in?” asked little Edward of the old stationmaster.
“Why, you little rascal, I've told you five times that it comes in at 4.44.”
“I know it,” replied Edward, but I like to see your whiskers wobble when you say ‘4.44.’”
* * *
All brutes are imperfect animals. Man alone is a perfect beast.
Herrings go about the sea in shawls.
There are many eligible fish in the Tasman Sea.
Some cows are very dangerous, especially the bull.
Lord Mayors of London are generally big business men, and they are invariably benighted.
Aden is a British coaling station at the bottom of the Red Sea.
Extempore is a disease in dogs.
Sapper is a substance which oozes from trees.
Give for any one year the number of bales of cotton exported from the United States. The applicant wrote: “1491. None.”
* * *
“Where are you going, ’Arry?”
“To the doctor's. I don't like the look of my missus.”
“Blime! I'll come with you. I ’ate the very sight of mine.”
* * *
Two men were seated in a railway carriage. As soon as the train started one got up and opened the window. After a few moments the other shut it. The first man rose and opened it once more. “What do you think you are playing at?” angrily demanded the man who had shut the window.
“Draughts,” said his companion sweetly; “your move.”
* * *
“Sandy, I dinna like the way ye drive so close to the car ahead. An’ it's night, too.”
“Whist ye, Woman. Dinna ye ken that I can turn off ma headlights that way an’ save the battery?”
* * *
“Unlucky! Say, if I were starving to death and there was a shower of soup, I'd be standing there with a fork in my hand.”
W. S. Dale
Mr. Dale continues his series of articles on Modern Industrial Psychology, and, in the following contribution, discusses the advantages of selection of workers in relation to specific tasks in industry.
To-Day, more than ever, the question in industry is how the business can be run most effectively. That we are realising the necessity for some form of selection in workers is demonstrated in our schools. When the child leaves, he takes with him a card upon which, in addition to a summary of his attainments, there appears a space for his aptitudes. This is a guide—possibly a crude one—for the employer. It ought to be the preliminary basis for selection. Of course the employer and the potential employee will regard it from different points of view, but, in the main, it is an impartial statement given after lengthy observation. The average worker will admit that selection on a basis of fitness for the job must effect no small saving in human energy, at the same time the employer thinks of the saving of material and cognate subjects.
Think, for a moment, of the haphazard way in which men find their work, it is determined more often by opportunity than by fitness. A boy leaves school in order to earn his living. In most cases there is little method in seeking his aptitudes, he takes anything that comes along. Economic pressure demands almost immediate employment, and so he finds himself working with a smith, a plumber, a carpenter—he does anything, so long as it is work. Often he is influenced by rates of wages. So he settles down, perhaps, as a carpenter. But it may be that he has no aptitude for the work, it is impossible for him to do first-class work, and so he remains a mediocre workman, earning a fair wage. It might be that his aptitude lay in poster designing. In this field he might have risen to the top of the profession, and there have done better work than some other man who just as “accidentally” started poster work with only fair results. Thus two men are compelled to work at a trade other than that for which they are most fitted. Our industrial life is full of these square pegs in round holes. The possibility of placing each man (or woman) where they are best fitted is termed “Selection on Natural Fitness.”
Crude attempts have been made to select employees in some factories, but, speaking generally, such movements are only possible where there are different processes being carried out in the same shop. This seems to indicate a large shop such as our Railway Shops, which are concerned with a variety of processes. As an instance of what I mean let me quote two cases. The first was relative to a big screw-driving job. Screws had to be driven at set spaces by a machine, and the whole contract finished before a given time. The number of screws used was something in the vicinity of one hundred and twenty-six thousand. To the average man the task would have been tiring in the extreme. But the Otahuhu shops are employing some 800 men, so that it was possible to get just the man who could do it without engendering boredom with its attendant evils. The man took a pride in the job, he declined to accept a move to other work, and finished the contract ahead of time. Moreover, he was proud of his accomplishment, of his skill in doing the work, and, above all, of the fact that he used up all the screws of a particular size in Auckland. A small shop would have found it impossible to “select” with the same degree of success.
The second example is that of a general labourer who was discovered to have definite sketching ability. He was thereon placed in the card checking section—a labourer's job—for half the time. The reason is obvious. He had an aptitude for seeing in a particular way necessary for the reading of these cards. This aptitude meant more efficient work in less time, while the employee suffered less from fatigue
It will be plain to most readers that many of the industrial vocations are entered upon with little planning. For this reason one is safe in saying that there is a tremendous amount of mal-adjustment. Men who are bank clerks would, in all probability, be better painters, while some painters might be better electricians. The bank clerk achieves his objective only through hard work over a long period, that means, of course, a period longer than it ought to be. Similarly we might postulate a painter's case, or that of the electrician. Now, lost time—or its equivalent, too long a time—is a loss to industry that can never be made up. It is a permanent charge on output which falls on the retailer, and so ultimately on the consumer. Whichever way we look at it, it is bad business. But that is not all.
It means a deliberately self-imposed drain on the strength of the worker. The mental strain which comes from the ever-present realisation that the work is uncongenial is immeasurably worse than charges against production, because it affects human life. It is, in effect, a movement along lines of greatest rather than along those of least resistance. It induces sickness, it is the basic factor in work-weariness, the root of the matter when employees report for duty with drawn face and lack-lustre eye. Where work follows lines of aptitude less fatigue is involved, work becomes a pleasure. Where such conditions as these latter rule it means an increase of what the Americans have rightly termed “Happiness Minutes.” The writer does not assert, of course, that these cross-currents of mental life cannot be mitigated. The man who drove screws had his moments of fatigue, no doubt, but this was, happily, rendered nugatory by a consciousness that it was a job he could do, not only do, but do well. The work held interest. Most readers will agree that we enjoy doing something that holds an interest, and which we can do well.
Next month, “The Evolution of Selection in Industry.”
The enemy we have to face is not the tiger in man, but the lack of imagination and vigorous thinking.—Prof. Gilbert Murray.
At the Addington Railway Workshops, South Island.
(Steffano Webb, photo)
Members of the Committee who organised the recent social function for the official opening of the new Dining Hall at Addington Workshops.
Back row (left to right): N. R. T. Carey, E. Cameron, W. P. Hern, P. H. Stevenson, W. J. McCullough, D. H. Robertson, E. S. Stringleman, S. Atkinson, D. J. D. Gourlay. Front row: J. Dickson, J. S. Cummings, R. Moore, C. A. Jenkins (Workshops Manager), E. J. Wilson, J. D. Moore, T. J. Stokes. Absent: W. Hamilton.
Use of the Tractor in Marshalling Yards
The recent International Railway Congress, in Madrid, produced many interesting discussions, and a most informative paper read threat dealt with tractor operation in marshalling yards. It was read by Monsieur Pellarin, of the Eastern Railway of France, and Monsieur Farenc, of the French Southern Railway. In this paper, it was remarked that the general principle in yard operation was that under which wagons, after their arrival in the reception sidings, were propelled over a hump and distributed thence by gravitation to a nest of sorting sidings, the wagons being allocated to each siding to form a complete train load. Subsequently the wagons in each siding were coupled up by a shunting engine and drawn into a further nest of departure sidings, where they were backed on to a brake van, the shunting engine then being replaced by the train engine. As the wagons travelled down the sorting sidings they might gradually come to a halt, or their progress might be suddenly impeded by contact with wagons already stationary. This latter condition was undesirable, and in consequence there were often found spaces in the sidings between succeeding cuts of trucks. This resulted in the fullest use not being made of the available capacity of sidings.
To remedy this undesirable state of things it was recommended, in the report under view, that tractors, running not on rails but on the ground alongside, should be employed for closing up and coupling. On the French railways successful use is made of appliances of this kind. Bauche and Fordon tractors of from 15 to 20 horse power, with rubber tyres, and two speeds forward and reverse, have increased the output of the Eastern Railway marshalling yards some 50 per cent. since they took the place of shunting engines.—(From our London Correspondent.)
Uniforms for Railwaymen
To-day, clothing the railwayman is a serious business, and at Home great care is taken to ensure that every worker entitled to uniform is provided with a well-fitting outfit that will do himself and his line the utmost credit. A single Home railway, like the London and North Eastern, supplies uniform clothing for over 109,000 workers, embracing the traffic, engineering, locomotive, and hotels departments. Each year 700,000 yards of cloth go into the making of L. and N.E.R. uniforms. There are five clothing distributing centres on the system, and each year there are two issues of clothing—one in spring and one in autumn.
Willington Public Libraries.Great Britain Versus the Maoris.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
With each team playing dashing and inspiring football, the game between Great Britain and the Maori All Black team, played at Wellington, resulted in a win for Great Britain by 19 points to 13. The illustrations shew:—(1) G. Nepia (N.Z.) kicks a penalty goal. (2) The Maori team give their haka. (3) Some of the Maori spectators. (4) T. E. Jones Davies (G.B.) takes a pass intended for J. C. Morley. (5) R. Bell (N.Z.) smothers R. S. Spong (G.B.). (6) J. Ruru (N.Z.) well tackled by R. S. Spong (G.B.). (7) J. C. Morley (G.B.) gathers in the ball; C. D. Aarvold (G.B.) in support.
The Old House
I Had been out all day on the hills, making notes and jotting down descriptions for my new novel, which was to have for its “local colour” this singularly wild and remote part of the country—all flaming gorse and steep frowning crags and complete isolation.
It was a gusty autumn evening, and, as I walked along the lonely track, I thought of the warm fire and the good dinner which would be waiting for me at home. In fact, I fell to musing as to what exactly would be served up to me by my capable landlady that night. I became so meditative that I could actually smell hot buttered toast and coffee, and just at that moment Mrs. Stubbs seemed to me to embody in her comfortable form the very perfection of womanhood.
The wind blew in those sharp drifting gusts which make one feel that Nature, especially out there, is malicious and on the defensive against mankind and his sweeping conquests. Soon the rain came on, whipping my face viciously. I tried to think happily of Mrs. Stubbs, but found myself, instead, musing on things supernatural—spirits of the wind and rain were shouting gleefully in my ears. I rushed along—one with the storm and the night—no longer a struggling young novelist, but an elemental creature, racing with the demons of the forest. From the crest of a little hill far above “Hidden Gap,” where friendly Mrs. Stubbs awaited me, I saw a light half-way up the valley. Often during the day I had wandered up that track, and knew that no house was to be found there, except a broken-down old manor, empty for many years. Strange that a light should be shining there. With its gaunt grey walls of stone, its staring vacant windows half obscured by creepers, and its sublime riotous wilderness of a garden, I had thought it would be a fascinating spot for description in a novel. In fact, in my more romantic moods I had begun to weave a story about its sombre, forbidding walls.
I stumbled, half blinded by the driving rain, down the steep track, wondering who on earth could be camping in the “old house” (as it was called in the village) on such a night. “Probably some swagger,” I thought. “I don't envy him the ghosts and the spiders and the cold, moss-covered boards!”
In a few minutes I had reached the heavy wooden gate which led up an overgrown drive towards the empty house. Tall trees hid it from me. I stood for a moment in the road torn between a very human desire for coffee and toast and Mrs. Stubbs' companionship, and an equally human urgent need to walk boldly up that bewildering drive, knock upon the stubborn, sullen front door of my uninviting house, and converse with the swagger in solitude over a mug of tea and hunks of bread and cheese. Perhaps he would have something to tell me. “You mustn't neglect opportunities, my lad,” I told myself, and banishing all frail thoughts of coffee and comfort. I pushed open the reluctant gate and made my way through the long wet grass. Gaunt old gum trees towered on either side, and a wan, wet moon shone on what once must have been a tennis court in the “dear dead days beyond recall.”
Suddenly, through the shrubs, I came upon the house. It was much larger than I had thought, and seemed to tower above me, grey and powerful in the moonlight—impenetrable and proof against time—scowling defiance at the wind and sun.
My heart began to beat rather more quickly than usual as I ascended the stout stone steps and gained the creeper-covered verandah. Once there, I couldn't go back. The house, I felt, had me in its grip, and something urged me to wrest from it its secret—if any it had. Funnily enough I had forgotten to look for the light, and only remembered then the purpose of my visit—merely a friendly call on a lonely swagger. I felt an intruder and apologetic towards those sad gaunt walls. What right had I from the world of men to push open the venerable front door? The words of a modern poet flashed into my mind.
“‘Is there anybody there?’ said the traveller,“Knocking on the moonlit door.”
It seemed to me nearly as vile as opening a packet of forgotten love - letters. However, my curiosity overcame my scruples, and I stood resolutely upon the step listening. All I heard was the wind moaning down what seemed to be a very long passage.
I was beginning to enjoy myself, and felt like a creation of Edgar Allan Poe's! Raising my stick, I struck the door three times, most melodramatically, calling: “Hello! Is anyone there?” My voice floated strangely down the hall, filling my soul with an exquisite sense of mystery and excitement. “Now for it!” said I; and pushing open the heavy door with a boldness I was far from feeling, I found myself in a wide panelled hall, still showing signs of former magnificence and solidity. Closed doors on either hand, and a pungent odour of must and decay. “Hello, there!” I shrieked again, rather despising myself for being so obstreperously modern and noisy. No answer, except the wind feeling along the walls with stealthy fingers. “The swagger evidently doesn't want to share his supper; well, he's jolly well going to now,” I muttered, and began to ascend a noble, wide staircase—for the light had seemed to come from an upstairs window. Cobwebs and creepers everywhere; and fitful, pale moonlight, from a narrow window, on the landing. It shone, thank heaven for something familiar, upon a picture of “Bubbles.” His seraphic face looked down encouragingly upon me, and I glowed with gratitude for the first welcome I had received. Here, at least, was a sign that normal people had once lived in this eerie place—any-how, normal enough to indulge in a print of “Bubbles,” which is saying a great deal. Soon I stood in another corridor—also wide and panelled—and at the far end I saw a beam of light beneath one of the doors. There, safely ensconced from the storm, would I find my swagger, probably stretched out on the boards snoring lustily. The fellows are very adaptable, and not possessed with overwrought nerves, or over active imagination. A good feed and a good sleep is all they ask—ghosts and echoes to them are nothing. I stumbled cheerfully down the passage towards the light, paused for a moment outside the door, and called softly. “Is anyone there?”
Was it imagination, or did I hear a short gasp, as though someone had been waiting in there, breathlessly listening to my approaching footsteps.
I pushed impatiently against the door, surprised to find that some weight had been placed against it. My swagger was not feeling at all hospitable. “Let me in, friend!” I called, reassuringly. Absolute silence and darkness; the occupant had extinguished the light. “Don't be an ass!” I cried; “I've just dropped in to have a yarn!”
Then, for about the third time in my life, I was really surprised. A girl's voice, clear and cold, answered me from inside. “Go away, please,” she ordered; “you can't come in here!”
“Oh, indeed!” I replied, with heavy irony; “and why not, pray? If you are the hostess of this luxurious mansion you are certainly not behaving well to a poor hungry stranger seeking shelter from the storm.”
“Don't be a fool,” replied the feminine voice; “and go away from here. You'll be sorry if you don't!”
Now, I dislike threats intensely, I always have, so my chivalry sank to zero. I pushed mightily, felt the door yielding, and in a moment it gave altogether—revealing darkness, utter and absolute. “Turn on the light, fair lady!” I
“Get out of here at once!” said the same rather fascinating voice, almost in my ear.
“No jolly fear!” I answered. “I couldn't possibly leave without a glimpse of my tantalising hostess!” With that callous remark I turned on the light.
Pressed against the wall was a girl—young, well-dressed and wonderfully beautiful—although somewhat marred by an expression (natural in the circumstances) of terror and most appalling anger. Her hair, cut short, and curling all over her head, seemed to bristle like that of an angry cat, sand her great grey eyes looked into mine with a gradually increasing contempt and scorn.
I made a low and courtly bow, introduced myself, and asked to be allowed to stay for supper. The room—another surprise — was more or less comfortable. In the first place this extraordinary young thing had a big fire burning in the grate, a mattress covered with rugs in one corner, two or three suit cases, quite an array of books, and a goodly supply of food—bread, butter, jam—in a kerosene box. All this I observed in a few seconds, while the girl stood stiff and arrogant against the wall. No queen in her boudoir could have been more stately nor beautiful than this boyish and haughty creature in her little den in a deserted old house.
“You are wonderfully comfortable here,” I said, feeling the strain of the conversation.
“Very,” was the icy reply, “until you appeared.”
“You're not very friendly, my child,” I answered, rather angrily I'm afraid. “Anyhow, if you won't feed the brute he's going to stay by the fire and have a yarn. I've made up my mind, so you'd better make the best of it.” With these bold words, I crossed to the fire and crouched before its gratifying blaze, determined to penetrate the mystery of a young girl actually living alone in this deserted house!
Perceiving that I was harmless, although a male, and evidently frozen and hungry, my hostess decided to be compassionate, and, without turning round, I became aware of movements behind me, as of bread being cut, and that most wonderful of all noises—the rattle of cups and saucers. Soon she came to my side, and I became aware, suddenly, that there was something curiously attractive about this strange lady of haunted houses.
“Make some toast, will you?” she ordered, not ungraciously, and I took from her slender hands slices of bread and, of all marvels, a toasting fork!
Two hours later saw us sitting on kerosene boxes staring into the fire and smoking cigarettes, while outside the wind howled and moaned in the gum trees. I felt very far removed from the haunts of men, and extremely snug and comfortable up there with the girl, unknown fellow-creature who had eaten with me, drunk with me, and was now smoking with me.
“Such things,” I said aloud, “happen frequently in current fiction.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, with a swift disconcertingly direct glance at me. Immediately I felt insignificant and worm-like.
“Why, meeting an adorable girl in an empty house, without knowing who the dickens she is, and what the deuce she is doing, apparently living quite alone in one room. Please explain!” I went on, quite humbly. “I am thoroughly curious, and only a harmess novelist.”
She leant back, puffed her cigarette in silence for a few minutes, studying the fire thoughtfully. Then, with a swift sweet smile, she turned to me.
“You will laugh, of course. As a matter of fact I have come here for a few weeks, because”—here a pause, then—“because, like you, I aspire to be a novelist, and this old house, with its ghosts and secrets, is exactly the place—just the atmosphere I want. So I packed a suitcase, said I was going for a holiday, and I've been here for a week.”
Then I told her how, I, too, had fancied the old house—imagined all sorts of things about it—and we talked far on into the night. She told
“Often we used to play hide-and-seek in the dark. Once I hid in this very room, under a bed,” she said; “how long ago it seems!”
“You must go now!”
I hated to leave her there with the ghosts and the whispering winds and rustling leaves, but I realised that she was quite unafraid and really absolutely safe, so I went—saying I would call and bring the afternoon tea next day. “Literary persons, you know,” I said, “must always be friendly—think of Shelley and Keats. We will take our sandwiches and walk to my hill-tops to-morrow. Good night!”
This time I hurried down the drive and out on the road. I realised that I didn't even know her name—it didn't seem to matter. Looking back through the trees, it seemed to me, now that no light shone, that I had imagined the whole affair. I was greeted by an alarmed Mrs. Stubbs, who thought “Maybe I'd broken my leg, down them horrid paths and suchlike.” I assured the good lady that all as well, except that I had lost my heart. And I went to bed, longing for the next day, when I would see my strange young writer again.
After that we used to go for long walks together, out across the gorse-clad hills, sometimes scribbling verses and notes, but more often talking—talking of all things in heaven and earth.
Then, one day I arrived “for tea,” as was my custom, at the old house, and found no trace of my shadowy girl. The room was tidied methodically, but completely devoid of any sign of recent occupation. She had disappeared as she had come to me—like the rush of wind along the passages.
I didn't even know her name—but the old house is still there—and one day she will come back to meet me there.
You can't have too many pairs of pyjamas, and they are so simple to make. Here is something to add to your collection for next summer—dainty and comfortable. All you need is lace and about four yards of voile, crepe-de-chine, or silk. Make a yoke of the lace, forming the shoulder pieces, and continue it down to the edge of the jumper. Then cut a panel of material for the front, back and sides. The trousers are very full, and give quite a Turkish effect. Let in a band of lace about six inches from the bottom, which, if you like, can be gathered into a little band.
Wellington Defeats Great Britain.
(Rly. Publicity photos)
The visiting British Rugby team suffered its first reverse in the Dominion when it was defeated by Wellington by 12 points to 8. The illustrations shew:—(1) The Wellington team. (2) P. F. Murray (G.B.) gets the ball away from a scrum. (3) J. C. Morley (G.B.) with ball, F. D. Prentice in support. F. D. Kilby, L. K. Heazelwood and D. J. Oliver (Wgtn.) in the picture. (4) C. D. Aarvold (G.B.) beats F. S. Ramson and fends off D. J. Oliver. (5) F. D. Prentice (G.B.) kicks a goal. (6) A portion of the crowd of approximately 30,000 spectators. (7) C. G. Porter (Wgtn.) in pursuit of P. F. Murray (G.B.). (8) C. G. Porter (Wgtn.) charges a kick by C. D. Aarvold (G.B.). (9) J. D. Mackay (Wgtn.) tackled by A. L. Novis (G.B.).