The Audit Office,
Wellington, N.Z 10th March, 1930. I hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose the average circulation of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” for the twelve months ended February, 1930 as in excess of 23,500 copies per month during the whole of that period, and that during the months of January and February, 1930, the monthly circulation has increased to 24,000 copies.
Controller and Auditor-General.
”… Twinkling vapours arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.”
—Longfellow.
A sunset scene on Catlin's Lake (Catlin's River Branch), Southland, New Zealand.
The New Zealand
Rail Ways
Magazine
Rail Ways
Magazine
Registered for transmission by Post as a Newspaper.
‘Published by the New Zealand Government Railways Department
“For Better Service.”Service Copy Circulation 20,000
Vol. 5 No. 4.
Wellington,
New Zealand
August1, 1930
Broadcasting
In a time when the whole world is busy letting other people know what each section is doing, it was no surprise to find that radio, a combined discovery and invention which permitted of the greatest sweep of thought in the fastest time to the minds of the largest audience, should have seized upon the popular imagination and become established as one of the most universal, as well as one of the most “likely to last,” of modern facilities and amenities.
It is advertising, in the widest sense, a method of letting others know what you are doing, and in this respect the New Zealand Railways Magazine conforms to the essential features of advertisement. It is the allocator to which matters of importance to all railwaymen may be referred, and the clearing-house through which the current of events in each of the branches may be switched in the desired direction. It has the advantage that can be secured by no other publication on behalf of the Railways, in that it is free to all in the Service. It is not sectional, and the purpose of its existence is to present, without offence and with the best knowledge available, matters of importance in the Railway transport world in such a way that a full understanding may be gained by those who read it.
The press of the Dominion has recognised the authenticity of the matter appearing in the Magazine, and has used it very extensively as a source of reliable information upon Railway matters. By it, and by the use that is made of it, we are able to explain our position to the public, just as the radio broadcaster does.
The Magazine is our placard of services, our bill of fare as to what we can supply to the public, and it serves as a necessary aid in explaining the importance of Railways in the affairs of the country.
When big figures are reached it is very difficult for the human mind to conceive of them with any distinctness unless graphic comparisons are prepared and presented. The fact that £5,000,000 in wages is annually spent by the staff of the Railways from their earnings is often insufficiently known and recognised by those to whom that huge spending capacity is of the utmost importance, namely, the transporting public. The Magazine helps us to bring out this and other relative facts in a way that by no other means could we so effectively or so consistently do.
Among our 19,000 employees, spread from one end of the Dominion to the other, it is a further feature of importance that we should have some means by which we can make ourselves understood amongst our-selves, and here again the Magazine becomes the common meeting ground for all.
That such means are essential for efficiency in modern business is a matter that is widely recognised. If every business with a capital of anything over £20,000,000
So far as our Magazine is concerned, we have had, in its production, a great deal of assistance from the staff in every branch of the Service, and it is now, as much as ever, open and available for the purpose to which it was dedicated at its inception over four years ago, and with the same object in view that was explained and adopted for the Magazine, namely, “For better Service.”
Rail Travel Made Comfortable
“Comfort, like the golden sun, dispels the sullen shade with her sweet influence.” This sentiment will be endorsed by the many thousands of travellers on the New Zealand Railways who have availed themselves of the comfort provided by one of the Department's pillows before setting out on a long train journey. The system of hiring pillows to train passengers was inaugurated in 1925, since which time the innovation has proved increasingly popular with the travelling public. Confined originally to the Main Trunk Expresses in the North Island, the pillow-hiring system, by virtue of its popularity with the public, has been extended to the majority of other express services. The system is controlled by the Department's Refreshment Branch, issue of the pillows being made by the sleeping-car and train attendants. The following is a brief description of the working of the system:—On the principal station platforms, such as Auckland, Wellington, Christ-church and Dunedin, an attendant in charge of the pillows is on duty about forty-five minutes before the departure time of trains. The pillows are placed in a large hamper, suitably lined with clean sheeting and reserve stocks are stored in large canvas bags. When opened, the lid of the hamper remains in a vertical position, with the notice “Pillows for Hire, 1/- each” displayed thereon. (The attendant also announces this information as the passengers pass along the platform.)
Where sleeping-car or train attendants are provided on trains a supply of pillows for hire purposes en route is carried on the train. This provision, by obviating the necessity for providing a platform service at intermediate stations, makes for economy in the operation of the system.
Scrupulous care is taken by the Department in the matter of safeguarding the health of passengers by ensuring absolute cleanliness of all pillows issued. The pillows have really three coverings. Above the ordinary ticking is a second slip-cover of the same material, which is removed and washed regularly, and on top of this is the white pillow-slip. This is taken off and laundered at the end of each journey—an amenity much appreciated by the public.
The supply of pillows to passengers is free from any worrying restrictions. The passenger pays the modest hire charge of 1/-, is handed the pillow, uses it without check or interference in any way en route, and at the end of the journey leaves it in the car, where it is removed by the attendant and recommissioned for service.
The Hon. R. Masters, M.L.C., Chairman of the Royal Commission upon Railways.
The “South Carolina”
Designed by Horatio Allen, the “South Carolina,” the fourth engine built by the West Point Foundry Association of New York, was the first eight-wheeled locomotive built in America, and was placed in service by the South Carolina Railroad in 1832. The locomotive had a vibrating truck on each end and a double-ended boiler, with the firebox in the middle. The flues from the fiirebox extended to the end of the boiler. It had a double smokebox and double stack, with a fire door on the side of the firebox, and flexible steam and exhaust pipes. The “South Carolina” was not a practicable locomotive for working trains, but possessed the feature which was subsequently embodied in a successful double-ended articulated engine.
(From “The Development of the Locomotive” published by The Central Steel Company, Massillon, Ohio, U.S.A.).
general Manager's Message
Business Balance.—The events of recent years and months in railway matters, not only in New Zealand, but also overseas, shew that rapid adjustments have been necessary to preserve a reasonable balance in the business of transport. As in other businesses when the demand for services equals the available supply of facilities it may be considered that the ideal condition has been reached. The customers and custom (equal demand) at one end of the see-saw maintain a balance with the staff and equipment (equal supply) at the other. But when custom drops off, the supply end becomes unduly depressed unless an adjustment is made in staff and equipment to reduce that supply.
There has been a tendency in past years by all railways rather to over-emphasise the supply side of their business in the belief that the demand side could be left largely to look after itself. Keen competition, however, has changed the conditions, and now, owing to the fact that so large a proportion of the capital of railways is “fixed” and therefore requires an intensive traffic to make the business payable, the principal problem has become one of salesmanship. We may build fine stations, viaducts, tracks, tunnels and shops, but these become monuments rather than money-makers unless we get the business to warrant them, and we must help ourselves to get this business. The demand, therefore, must be increased, and, in this, service as well as price, matters greatly.
Organised Salesmanship to Increase Income.—I would like our staff to feel how vital to every member is the matter of business-getting. We must obtain a certain price from the service we sell, but that price can be high or low according to the organisation and effort put into producing it.
In New Zealand the national income is so intimately related to the railway income that upon this point I cannot do better than quote Sir Josiah Stamp (himself the executive head of the L.M.S, one of the most largely capitalised railways in the world). Writing on the subject of “The National Income” Sir Josiah, after likening it to a heap made up of all the work and products of work of the people composing the nation, continued, “We cannot, as a whole, get more out of the heap than we have put into it. If we each secretly make up our minds one night to put a little less on and say nothing about it to anyone else, we shall all be amazed to see how the heap shrinks in its mass. On the other hand, if all tackle their job in the spirit of Sunny Jim, there will be magic magnification before us.”
It is useless having the means and the will to produce unless potential buyers know all there is to be known about the product. Then comes the necessary advertisement to let the public know how reasonable our price is, and to make them want to use our product—rail transport.
In our own personal buying, we make an effort to obtain the best we can at the price; it is therefore fair and equitable that we should give the same, and as personality enters largely into salesmanship I would ask that all our members keep in mind the services which the Department makes available for the public and take every reasonable opportunity to let them know just how good such services are, and, in particular, to give every encouragement and personal assistance to those of our staff whose especial business it is to sell railway services to the public. I have repeatedly urged this. I make no apology for urging it again. It is a factor absolutely vital to the prosperity of our business.
General Manager.
byE. Vivian Hall
U.S. Senate Passes Naval Treaty—A Prophecy of War—Trouble on Empire Communications—Woman Who Hit a Haystack—The Economic Complex.
Notwithstanding many predictions to the contrary by well informed observers, the United States Senate passed the London Naval Treaty by a heavy majority—58 votes to 9. Prior to that the Senate had rejected, by heavy majorities, various hostile reservations, but it adopted a reservation “stipulating that no approval be given by ratification to any secret agreement or understanding that may exist in relation to the Pact.” Thus the Republican breakaway led by Senator Johnson (California) seems to have come to nothing. When Woodrow Wilson, a decade ago, brought back from Versailles the League of Nations and the guarantee of France's integrity, the Senate threw them into the waste paper basket and not long ago it was predicted that Secretary of State Stimson would have a similar experience with the London Naval Treaty. These anticipations of woe, of course, enhance the moral victory that the Hoover Administration has won in the Senate's final vote. From that success President Hoover gains moral help in his fight for unemployment relief; he also gains material help, for the money saved from naval shipbuilding will give him a more free hand in his economic programme. Naval parity attainable with a lesser expenditure on warships opens the way to a heavier subsidising of the United States mercantile marine. In either case, this American money has for its objective supremacy at sea. The onus is on British shipping to counter subsidies with efficiency.
Next in importance to the passage of the London Naval Treaty through the United States Senate is the statement by Mr. James Gerard that a war is “brewing”—indeed “imminent”—between France and Italy. Prophecies of war are not infrequent; many of them pass unheeded; but this one cannot pass without notice, coming, as it does, from a man of Mr. Gerard's calibre. As United States Ambassador to Germany at the time when Europe was plunging into the Great War that begun in 1914, Mr. Gerard played an important part in European history at a critical time, and his contributions as an historian are not only valuable in themselves, but seem to reflect a clear and unbiassed mind, equipped with unusual insight and foresight. When such an American as this declares that there is fire behind the Italo-Frcnch smoke, America should become able to form a clearer view of Britain's difficulties in dealing with
The Egyptian and the Indian troubles need not be over-emphasised, but they have to be considered by any country that is interested—as are New Zealand and Australia—in the Mediterranean-Suez-Red Sea route. It is sufficient to say that a Labour Government—a British Labour Government that had done its utmost to compromise with an Egyptian Government in the setting up of a settlement of “reserved points”—considered the Egyptian disorder to be sufficiently serious to send British warships to the scene. Such actions are not taken for nothing. In India the position is still confused because it is difficult to discover how much the unrest partakes of the peculiar psychology of Mahatma Gandhi, and to what extent it reflects the activities of less philosophical revolutionaries. Whatever the future of events in India and Egypt, they are of immediate concern to all peoples whose communications—including air lines—pass that way.
The hand that used to rock the cradle now pulls the trigger. Miss Marjorie Foster won the King's Prize at Bisley, and not long before Miss Winifred Brown won the King's Cup (air race). These royal exploits (drawing forth the King's congratulations) followed that other great epic of the air—Miss Amy Johnson's England-Australia flight. It is wonderful how flight appeals to women, and it is not unlikely that a woman flier of the Atlantic will offer herself. Kingsford Smith's east-to-west triumph resulted ultimately in his bringing the Southern Cross back to the spot (Oakland, San Francisco) where the world-girdling aeroplane started its career. There is a good deal in the name of this famous machine, for it symbolises the advent of the New South into competition with the Old North for leadership in world-progress. A few centuries ago European navigators started out across the Atlantic to discover America and the Pacific countries. To-day an Australian air-navigator crosses the Pacific first, and leaves the Atlantic for his last lap. Thus the centre of gravity is ever shifting, and the newest lands have their representatives in the van of technical and scientific advance.
The Last Journey.
The train carrying the remains of the late Sir Joseph Ward, at Invercargill railway station.
Control measures directed to maintaining the prices of primary products continue to hold the stage in various parts of the world, particularly in North America and Australia. Controversy has waxed keener since wheat fell below the dollar. In Canada and the United States some authorities are urging less planting of wheat, others would lend farmers cheap public money to produce more wheat. While the United States Farm Board is being stormed at to buy huge quantities of grain for storage so as to hold the price, it is accused on the other hand of propping up the farmers instead of forcing
In the sphere of Empire trade the end of June and the early days of July were marked by two very notable statements of policy on the part of groups outside the ordinary party-political organisations. In Britain the Trade Union Congress (the T.U.C.) is about the last body to be accused of collaboration with the official Conservatives, or with Lord Beaver-brook's “Empire Freetraders,” or with any other political backers of Empire tariffism. When, therefore, the General Council of the T.U.C. declares for a principle of Empire co-operation in trade—the British traditional policy of isolation being “no longer possible”—the pronouncement carries more weight among the politicians than if a party organisation had said it. With an American economic bloc on one side, and a probable European bloc on the other, the T.U.C. Committee declares for an Empire bloc. Such a declaration does not amount to a yea or nay on tariffism, but it implies acceptance of the fiscal compromises that co-operation within the Empire would require. The other statement of policy, from a group of British bankers, presided over by Sir Eric Hambro, goes further. Britain should be “prepared to impose duties on all foreign imports.” This is, of course, a negation of the present British Government's provisional promise to Argentina.
Members of the Royal Commission upon Railways now Sitting in Wellington.
(Rly, Publicity photo.)
Left to right: Mr. J. D. Hall (Christchurch), Mr. R. W. McVilly (former General Manager of Railways, Wellington), Mr. J. Marchbanks (Wellington), and the Hon. R. Masters, M.L.C. (Stratford), Chairman of the Commission.
Ken Alexander
It is unwise, dear reader, to vocalise to a vegetarian on the vitaministic virtues of the gentle giblet; it is unsafe to broadcast on the farinaceous fertility of the faithful filbert to a “beefologist”; it is suicidal to spill the beans on the Tyranny of Time to the spouse of the house in the grey dawn of the subsequent morn; but it is always safe to swap weather retorts, discuss meteorological metamorphosis, and put the nips into Nature with anyone you meet except the meteorologist, who not unreasonably resents any extemporaneous expression of opinion on the sacred subjects of hyperborean hysteria and the ethics of the elements. All other topics become stale with greater celerity than a decadent duck egg, but the weather as material for padding the forms of speech is imperishable. It is a fact, dear reader, that there is more weather to the liquid ounce in this land of “speedom” than there are chins on a Chinchilla; the weather is more universal than Esperanto or lumbago; meteorology and psychology are “twinologies”; they either synchronise salubriously under the greenwood tree or they camp under a gamp, and simultaneously simulate a sea-soaked sock; for it is the weather which puts the “sigh” in psychology and the “fizz” into physiology, in terms of its temperature; when Nature hits the mat, human nature whips the cat, but when the elements don the garments of sunshine and salubrity man bursts with benevolence and goes among the people crying: “Aye, verily, brethren and sistern, is not the day a ‘humdazzler,’ a veritable cough-drop, in fact the cat's whiskers?” And the populace answer unto him as one man, saying: “Sure baby,” “Betcher,” and the atmosphere buzzes with the bacteria of hysteria and the vitamins of victory; men go forth among the people spreading good cheer and sales-talk, and prosperity lies upon the land; people even contract matrimony with naught but optimism to support their faith in the future. Dear reader, dead silence often is safer than lively speech, but in the most debilitated situation it is safe to aver that it was a fine winter last summer, or to venture a guess as to what day summer will fall on during the current year.
Thus this climatic clatter — these meteorological mutterings.
Despite the high cost of giving and the daily “keep-onomy” I would remind you that spring is about to spring; that August augurs of Brussels sprouts and hustled shouts; that the earth is breaking into whispers and whiskers; the bird is on the wing and the onion on the spring.
“Dead silence is often safer than lively speech.”
It is Spring.
But if, doubting reader, in this august month of August, Spring fails to leap and the Blows have it, do not blame us, who merely accept the official version that Spring has registered in the visitor's book.
In the spring man flirts with happiness, always providing that he recognises the Lady of the Laugh when he meets her. “But what is Happiness, Daddy?” Is it perchance indicated by the lambent laugh, can it be related to the inherent inanity of humanity; is it a mere vacuous vibrating of the vocals? Or is it like quick-silver which, according to Cornelius, is something that “when you put your finger on it, it ain't there?” Methinks Cornelius “clicked.” In proof, dear reader, a horse-stinger or jockey (as you like it) was asked in what order of sequence and frequence a horse incited his extremities to action — whether the starboard stilts synchronised, or whether the whole bunch registered equinoxially; the horse-stinger replied in the “nagative,” remarking that a horse never gives his undercarriage a thought, and that if he did he would become so fetlocked that he would fall on his neck and bust his handicap.
This instance of horse-sense, thoughtful reader, finds its foal-mate in Happiness, for Happiness is a lady who will not bear contemplation; as soon as you become conscious of her presence she dissolves partnership; but when, for some reason or reasons unknown, the personal ego seems to rest quiescent on a sward of kapok and mentality is divorced from mundanity; when the soul slips its collar and goes forth to lap the nectar from the petals of poesy, and the earth stands still; when time and terrestial tempestuousness,
“What is happiness, Daddy?“
“The goose that lays the golden dregs.”
Some say that Happiness has packed her port’ and taken a week's wages in lieu. If such is true, perhaps it is that we have failed to woo; perhaps she has been gassed by gasolene; perchance she prefers lace and lavender and sits with the old folks at home. Who knows?
Happiness, kind reader, is not always the spouse of Success. Success is often too busy playing sales on the cash register; Success sometimes wears a pint hat on a quart head, thus restricting the flow of imagination to the brain; success is too often the union of L.S.D. with E.G.O., resulting in N.I.L. The union of “dough” and delight is successful only if the ceremony is conducted by the Reverend Hugh Manity.
It is bad business to confuse Success with Excess.
Dear reader, the march of progress has speeded into a gallop, but Happiness is no Olympic gamester. Man moves with such suddenness that he leaves his future behind him, and the present is the spot marked “nix” in the extreme background of the panorama. He has got a toe-hold on Time and a “Seizers on Science.” He has heaved Happiness over the ropes; he is a pulverulent projectile perforating the panorama; he is the prize pest of Nature's garden; if he had more legs and held his head in the horizontal he would be treated with insecticide. In Nature's scheme of give-and-take he is the prize plundertaker. And as my friend Sing Low remarks, “Whaffor.”
When man staggers off to his little tasks in the morning he is approximately alive, otherwise he could claim a convincing
“The Rev. Hugh Manity.”
Rather let us broadcast with Old Ma Kai Ham:
We will now close the meeting, happy reader, with a round of rondos on the railway. Considering that our train of
Him.
Our National Game.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Incidents in the recent football match between Wellington and Great Britain (won by Wellington by 12 points to 8). (1) J. C. Morley (Great Britain) about to score, C. D. Aarvold (Great Britain) in support. F. S. Ransom and L. K. Heazelwood (Wellington) are the other players in the picture. (2) P. F. Murray (Great Britain) about to pass to H. M. Bowcott (Great Britain). (3) J. C. Morley (Great Britain) breaks through—M. F. Nicholls (about to tackle) and F. S. Ransom (Wellington) in close pursuit. (4) R. S. Spong (Great Britain) works the blind side.
Speaking in the House of Representatives on 30th July, the Hon. W. A. Veitch, Minister of Railways, quoted some interesting figures showing the value of each employee of the Department in terms of passengers carried and goods transported. “For every employee in 1929–30 a total of 1,479 passengers were carried, and 401 tons of goods,” said Mr. Veitch. “During the last five years the average per employee was 1,488 passengers and 401 tons. For the five years 1906–10 the number of passengers carried per employee was 1,254 and the number of tons 412. It would be seen that passengers per employee had increased by 234, freight falling by 11 tons. Miner's work was often judged on a similar standard, and it was only fair to railwaymen to see their work value compared.”
* * *
Red tape was distinctly absent from the treatment accorded to a written reproof for smoking on duty sent to a subordinate by a recently-promoted officer in the old railway days, referred to reminiscently at the recent Railway Officers’ Reunion by the Hon. S. G. Smith. Met some days afterwards by the officer, the delinquent was sternly asked if he had the letter. “No,” he replied. “I sent it to your brother Bill in Dunedin to let him see how fast you were getting on.”
* * *
According to the Christian Science Monitor, the campaign for greater highway safety probably has received nowhere a greater impetus than in New Jersey, U.S.A., where nearly 11,000 employees of the Bell Telephone system, including 1,800 of the company's drivers, have adopted a resolution which reads in part:
To obey traffic laws and regulations; to drive carefully …; to grant right of way freely and willingly; to be regardful of pedestrians, particularly children and elderly persons… and to so operate vehicles as to reflect credit on my company, myself and fellow drivers.
* * *
The modern sleeping-car is just as wonderful a vehicle in its own sphere as the twentieth century dining car. On the Home railways, each first-class berth in the sleeping-car is a separate compartment, and is fitted with a box-spring mattress, like an ordinary bed. The cars are specially sprung to reduce oscillation to a minimum. The light in the compartment may be kept on full or dimmed at the passenger's will, and a reading lamp is provided. Hot and cold water, with lavatory basin, are installed in each compartment, and when the time comes for the morning clean-up there is no frantic sprinting to a lavatory situated at one end of the car.
In addition to the first-class sleepers, third-class sleeping-cars operated at reduced tariffs, are run between London and Scotland, London and Holyhead, and London and Cornwall. These cars have seven compartments, each accommodating four sleepers. For businessmen to whom time spells money, and for tourists who wish to see as much of the Homeland as possible in a limited time, the sleeping-cars, both first and third-class, are of the utmost utility.
No Time For Pessimism
General Manager'S Hopeful Review Of Railways Position.
Frankness was a feature of the speech made at the Railway Officers’ Institute Reunion on Saturday, July 19th, by the General Manager of Railways (Mr. H. H. Sterling). Appreciating the warm expression of confidence by the Institute, he declared that in effect officers would only get out of the service in wages and conditions what they put into it in efficiency and loyalty to their organisation, the only means to give the public the service it required at the least possible cost.
Proposing the toast of “The Minister and Management,” Mr. J. J. McAloon said that though Mr. Veitch had risen to Ministerial rank from the Department, in bad times, his training as a railwayman would help him to see things from the railway point of view. He hoped that the railways would bring prosperity to the country. In their General Manager, born and bred in New Zealand, they had one who understood. The railways were not built to be a paying concern, but to tap the wealth in which the country abounded. They had helped in the past to make the country's wealth available to its inhabitants, but that was lost sight of largely to-day.
Relationship during the year between management and officers had been of the most cordial nature, said Mr. McAloon. Naturally the Institute expressed the views of the men, and the management those of the Department, but whenever Mr. Sterling had had to express the views of the Department, it had always been with a just voice. They were passing through financial stringency not peculiar to New Zealand, but they had every faith and confidence in the policy their General Manager had framed.
Mr. Sterling said he appreciated the kind references to the relationships during the year, which had not been an easy one so far as those relationships were concerned. He wished to acknowledge the courtesy and restraint of the representatives of the Institute in putting their remits before him. Their joint task might be difficult, but so long as the conditions were not made unpleasant there remained only a residuum of thought and work which would never gall the men, who, under pleasant conditions, would never worry while the relationships described by Mr. McAloon existed.
“During the year we have had difficult times,” said Mr. Sterling. “It has grown progressively difficult, until now we are in as difficult a situation as we have ever had to face, but I decline to take a pessimistic view of it. Indeed, I think we are on the eve of big things. I do not think that at any time we have been more valuable than we are to-day. The railways are doing a service to this country which it cannot do without for many years to come. While we are giving this service, with the will to serve, and while we are giving it at the least possible cost to the country, with the greatest degree of civility—not servility—I do not blush when I face any section of the community of this Dominion.
“I have found during the last few years, especially since the conditions of transport
“We have a great organisation, and if we stand together we will win. That is the keynote of what I have to say to you. If, from the General Manager downwards we are loyal to ourselves and our industrial organisation, nobody in this country can tell us what we ought to do, because our combined knowledge should be enough to bring to the people of the country something that cannot be brought in any other way. (Applause.) I do not know what else the people of the Dominion can ask for. I have endeavoured to impress on my men that when a problem arises that must be settled they must settle it as their brains guide them. If there is an error of judgment, nothing is coming to you.
“It is a day that demands courage and initiative, one where those in the outposts of the Department must be relied on more and more to protect its interests over its far-flung territory. Broad lines of policy must be set down by a central authority, but when all is said and done, whether we get, or do not get, the business—and that is what it all comes to—it is by the increased ability, courage and initiative of those in the outposts who are charged with the duty of looking after your interests that we shall win.
“We are a unit in the economic structure of this country, and according as we are loyal to that organisation, we are going to achieve great ends. We do not always see eye to eye. That is inevitable, but we are all striving towards ideals, without which a man is lost. I believe that in our ideals we have something that will carry us forward to a higher value to the community, and it is that which determines in the end what you will get in the way of wages and conditions.
“That brings me to the question of waste. Waste and wages come from the same fund, and that fund is circumscribed by the value of our product to the people. See that nobody is out of a job, and that material is properly handled. Thus we shall achieve what we hope to achieve, giving the service the public require us to give at the least possible cost. When we have done that we have done everything that can be expected of us.”
Renewing an Old Acquaintance.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Hon. W. A. Veitch, Minister of Railways (and former locomotive driver) again tries his veteran hand at the the throttle-valve.
LondonLetter
In his current Letter, our Special London Correspondent discusses the new and powerful types of high-pressure steam locomotives recently introduced in Britain and Germany, and gives some interesting particulars of the dining car service now provided for travellers on the Home railways.
Steam locomotive development nowadays proceeds apace. Quite recently there was recorded in these Letters the putting into traffic of new high-pressure locomotive giants on the two largest Home railway groups. Now Germany comes to the front with another type of high-pressure steam locomotive, claiming to be Europe's most powerful railway engine; while on the Southern Railway of England a most interesting new class of steam locomotive has been brought into passenger service.
Many noteworthy locomotives have been turned out at various times from the Eastleigh shops of the Southern Railway. The “Lord Nelson” and “King Arthur” engines had their birth at Eastleigh, and now these well-known locomotive shops have produced a batch of interesting 4-4-0 three-cylinder passenger engines styled the “Schools” class, each locomotive bearing the name of a famous public school situated in Southern territory. The locomotives have cylinders, motion, bogie. etc., practically identical with those of the “Lord Nelson” four-cylinder machine, While the boiler corresponds to that of the “King Arthur,” but has a shorter barrel and a working pressure of 220lb. persquare inch. The new locomotives are actually the most powerful 4—4—0 type engines on the Home-railways, and in order to enable them to run over sections of the Southern Railway, where the loading gauge is somewhat restricted, the sides of the cab and the top of the tender have been set in somewhat. The “Schools” class of locomotives each have a built-up single-throw crank axle, and the 8in. piston valves are driven by three sets of Walschaert gear.
The principal dimensions of the new Southern locomotives are as follows, viz:–Cylinders, 16½ in. diameter, 26in. stroke: bogie wheels. 3ft. 1in. diameter; coupled wheels, 6ft. 7in. diameter; total wheel-base, 25ft. 6in.; boiler, diameter .5ft. 6in., length of barrel 11ft. 9in.; heating surface, 2,049 sq. ft. (including 283 sq. ft. superheater); grate area, 28.3 sq. ft.; boiler pressure, 220lb. per sq. in.; tractive effort, 25,130lb.; water capacityof tender. 4,000 gallons, coal capacity 5 tons; total weight of engine and tender in working order, 109½ tons. These locomotives are intended for fast passenger haulage between London and the various seaside resorts situated on the English South Coast.
On the Continent of Europe an especially interesting steam locomotive recently produced is a high-pressure engine built for the German Railways by the Berlin Maschinenbau A.G. In general outline this locomotive resembles the standard 4—6—2 express passenger locomotives of the German Railways, the principal variations being the introduction of three cylinders and the modification of these and of their valves so as to render them adapted for ultra-high steam pressures. The boiler, however, embodies the principles evolved by the late Professor S. Loffter, and is an entire departure from previous practice. Two of the three cylinders take the form of high-pressure cylinders outside the frames, the other being an inside low-pressure cylinder driving the leading axle. The high-pressure cylinders are of eight and three-quarter inches diameter, and the low pressure cylinder has a diameter, of twenty-four inches. All the cylinders have a twenty-six inch stroke. The diameter of the driving wheels is 6ft. 6¾ in., diameter of the bogie wheels 2ft. 9½ in., and the diameter of the trailing wheels 4ft. 0½ in. The weight of the engine, empty, is 111½ tons.
The Loffter system claims to provide all the thermal advantages of high pressure superheated steam without danger and excessive cost of construction. It is said to retain the many valuable mechanical properties of the conventional locomotive, inasmuch as the motive mechanism is of the reciprocating type. Also, it claims to solve the problem of boiler scale, the water being vaporised and steam generated in a high-pressure boiler and drum. wherein there are found no flue gases or products of combustion. Steam pressures employed vary from 215lb. per sq. in. in the low-pressure boiler to as high as 1,700lb. per sq. in. in the high-pressure boiler. The machine is of a somewhat complicated nature, but already it is understood that trial runs have shown the locomotive to be capable of high speeds, running on 50 per cent. less coal fuel than the conventional type of express passenger engine.
Last month mention was made in these pages of the possible early electrification of the King's Cross suburban tracks of the L. and N.E. Railway, London. Details of this important electrification plan reveal a most ambitious scheme for the betterment of communications northwards out of King's Cross. The work includes the electrification of the main lines of the old Great Northern system leading out of London, via Hatfield and Enfield, as far as Welwyn Garden City and Hartford, twenty miles from King's Cross. The suburban branches leading from Finsbury Park to Alexandra Palace, High Barnet and Edgware will also be electrified. The total length of line covered in the electrification is sixty route miles, equal to 173 miles of single track, and the cost of conversion is about £3,700,000, to which must be added a further £650,000 for tunnel widenings.
The King's Cross electrification plan will be put in hand at an early date, subject to Government assistance being secured. Negotiations are also in hand with other railways, with a view to arrangements being made for through electric trains to be run from the L. and N.E.
In the Garden Lands of Sussex.A Southern Railway London-Hastings Express.
Modern British Dining Car Equipment.
The “Flying Scotsman's” all-electric kitchen.
In the good old days, half a century back, when top hats and side whiskers were in favour, most railway passengers carried in addition to voluminous luggage, a packet of sandwiches and a flask. It was then the first dining-car made its appearance in Britain. An experimental car was brought over from America in sections. It had seating accommodation for nineteen persons, ten in the saloon and nine in a smaller smoking section, and there was a kitchen fitted with a coke stove and a tiny pantry. Oil lamps were employed for lighting. Since then every development has been for the greater comfort and convenience of passengers. New dining-cars recently put into traffic on the Home railways include every modern device for the betterment of rail travel and rail catering, all-electric cooking being the latest move in catering for the pampered Marco Polo of 1930.
The cost of the modern Home railway dining car is approximately £5,000.
The Port of London Authority, the independent body entrusted with the operation of the docks of Britain's metropolis, has just celebrated its twenty-first anniversary. In 1909 the Authority took over from the various private dock companies the shipping facilities of London, and since its inauguration has performed very notable work in the interests of Thamesside shipping.
The London docks have a water area of over 723 acres, with 33 miles of quays,
A World-Famous Railway Station.The King's Cross Depot of the L. and N.E. Railway in London.
“The cataract blows its trumpet from the steep.”—Wordsworth.
A party at the Taranaki Falls, Tongariro National Park, North Island, New Zealand (reached from National Park station on the Main Trunk Line).
James Cowan
(Concluded.)
We are fairly in the heart of the forest; horses—those that survived the ongaonga—sent back to Te Kuiti under the charge of the packer; our provisions—hard biscuit and tinned stuff, divided into equal sized pikaus among the nine of us, sheath-knives and tin pannikins on belts; ready for the week's tramp.
Hursthouse carried a double-barrel gun, and this got us a pigeon now and again to help out the hard tack. It was hard going, that tramp through the heart of the greatest forest in the Island. We forded frequent streams, rocky or muddy; we swarmed up cliffy hillsides as thickly wooded as the levels, hanging on by tree-roots, swinging up by the hanging aka vines or the tufts of hill-flax; pikaus growing heavier as the day went on, and the sharp corners digging trenches in one's shoulders, packed we the tinned stuff ever so carefully. Grateful were the spells for rest and smoke, and the mid-day billy-boiling half-hour; more grateful still the sundown halt for camp and rest for the weary. But the good days they were!
Elastic were the well-limbered muscles in those days of hard training and rough marching. We rolled out at daylight from the halftent shelter or the lee of a patriarchal tree eager for the day's work, and for the new country that it opened up to us. To me every step was through an enchanted land.
We knew that very few had been before us. They could all have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Indeed, the veteran Hursthouse himself, with all his thirty years of Taranaki survey, had never been right through on this trail. Julian, who was Taranaki-born, was the one man who knew it from end to end, and even he, as he went ahead with his slash-hook, was at fault at times, and we had to cut across untracked ridges and swamps and ford creeks unmarked on the map.
All the little troubles of the day were forgotten when we had had our tea and stretched out before the comforting fire that made the bush camp-ground a little “palace in the wild.” We would have been more comfortable had there been fewer mosquitoes, but we made shift to lighten the plague with much tobacco smoke, and there were the yarns of such old-timers as Hursthouse and Frank Lawry and Jackson Palmer's songs; tales and ditties that go best to the accompaniment of a crackling log fire, the “koukou” of a wondering morepork; the dancing of the firelight on the lichen-crusted tree-trunks and the twisted kiekie-hung branches
And “Wirihana!” I see him now, with the eye of memory—big, straight-backed, bearded “Wirihana,” squatting by the fire blanketed like a Maori, pipe in the corner of his mouth, a shrewdly humorous twinkle in the tail of his eye, though his face retains the gravity of a Maori tohunga. What a store of bush lore and war adventure he had crammed into his fifty-odd years of life! Like the immortal Jim Bludso, “a keerless man in his talk” was “Wirihana” when he relaxed, but there was always sound wisdom in his most whimsical mood. He was a captain in the line of stout fellows who blazed the way and made this land fit for peaceful settlement.
How good, too, were those mornings when all the world was young! When the forest felt and smelled the fresher for its night's rest, when the damp fragrance of moss and bank and leaf and leaf-mould came to one like wild nature's incense. All the tree-world held a dim and fairy mystery, when the tui and the bellbird gurgled and fluted and chimed their morning song. Puhi has the billy on good and early; we have our biscuit and hard tack, pack our swags, and are off on the new trail before the sun penetrates the foggy day.
We traversed those alluvial flats of the Ohura basin, all densely timbered then, where townships and farmhouses stand to-day. We left the Huatahi levels, with their continuous roof of leaves uplifted on enormous pillars of pine and rata and tawa, and climbed the steep Paparata Range—the railway route tunnels through it now —that separates the valleys of the Ohura and the Tangarakau. We heard from Julian and Puhi about the ruggedness of the Tangarakau Gorge that lay ahead of us. “A rough shop” was
“One more river, That's the Tangarakau; One more river, One more river to cross.”
“Just you wait till to-morrow, old man,” said Hursthouse over his shoulder; “you won't be singing frivolous chanteys about the Tangarakau
The Railway Settlement at Tangarakau Flat.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Tangarakau Flat is about fifty miles from Stratford. In the foreground is shewn the power house for generating electricity for tunnelling operations, and (centre) the playing ground made by the railway construction gangs.
pikau straps, and in a few moments Puhi's axe was ringing, clearing the ground for our bivouac. That night we burned some coal in our fire. In the Paparata Creek bed, as we descended the range, there was a solid ledge of coal, an outcrop six feet thick; the water fell over it in a little cascade. Some day, we prophesied as we watched that coal burning, a big coal field would be developed here, and maybe keep the railway running.
We were hundreds of feet on our woody ledge above the growling Tangarakau. We could not see into the depths, but the river's voice came up from the profound canyon. Sometimes there would be a lull, then the river sounds would come loud and swelling; and from this side and that we heard minor torrents all rushing down to pay tribute to the main river.
The morning light showed us a grand ravine at our feet, with a rapid-whitened, rock-strewn, snag-cumbered river tearing along between lofty ranges blanketed in forest from base to skyline. We struck camp by six in the morning, crossed to the opposite side of the river by rocks and fallen trees, and tramped and clambered all day down the proper right bank of the defile. Tangarakau was an appropriate name; it means to fell trees. The timber debris of a thousand floods was strewn along the bottom of the gorge. On the left bank the land rose into bluffs almost perpendicular to a height of five or six hundred feet above the river, which was itself at the thousand-feet level above the sea. Tangled bush clung to the papa precipice, rose in a cloud of green to the skyline, leaving here and there a wall of white rock too straight for even the New Zealand jungly forest to maintain a roothold. Streams white-lined the green and blue of the mountain side, appearing and reappearing through the trees. Blue
whio, or “whistler” of the Maoris, swam in the quiet pools.
It was a toilsome day along the wooded mountain side—less steep, fortunately, than the mighty parapet of rock across the river—and climbing in and out of the many tributary creeks. A wild bit of New Zealand then, where the road and railway run to-day.
Of a different character of beauty was the Whanga-momona forest basin in which we found ourselves two days later, two days’ march
In The Heart Of The Taranaki Bush Country.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Tangarakau Gorge, on the route of the Stratford Main Trunk Railway.
koromiko; there was an old earthwork there, a pa of refuge for some tribe long ago. The faint trail petered out about here, and Julian had to cast about for the way out of the trackless place.
We descended into the alluvial valley which, under its dense bush, bore promise of fertility for the settler who was to come some day. Whanga-momona means “Fat Valley,” or “Valley of Rich Soil,” and it has justified its name. On our first day across its levels we made ten miles—a mile an hour average. We moved in a land of twilight; the sun seldom penetrated the green ceiling of branch and leaf and the feathery tapestries of ponga and koran fern-trees. Puhi told us of the olden rat-hunting and birding expeditions to this now silent place; how the Maori rat, a cleanly animal that fattened on fallen berries, was caught in hundreds in the traps called “tawhiti”; how the pigeon and tui and kaka swarmed so thickly in the season of bush fruits, that their song in the mornings all but drowned the voices of the camping parties. But the bush was almost bare of birds that day; at any rate they were not feeding on our trail.
By this time we were short of tucker, and a wet day's compulsory stay in quickly run-up fern-tree shelter, ran the commissariat supply still lower. A pigeon and a couple of eels gave us a taste all round. Dark was coming on when a loud “coo-ey” rang through the bush, and in another few minutes we were greeting some thoughtful fellows from Stratford who had come out to meet us, with horses as far as they could take them to the head of the track.
We dined well that night, and next morning saw us on horseback, a glorious relief from the eternal foot-slog, jogging down over the Pohokura saddle for Stratford, thirty miles away, and
Nau mai ki Taranaki!”
Well, that was thirty-six years ago. All the old hands are gone; “Wirihana” and Cadman, Surveyor Munro Wilson, and the rest of them have carried their last pikaus, crossed the last range. Nearly all; out of the eight pakehas, Julian and myself are left; I haven't heard of faithful swagman Puhi for many a year, but I hope he is still above ground.
“Wirihana” predicted, as we climbed the steep papa ridges between the various valleys, that the railway builders of the future would find the job a slow one, because of the numerous long tunnels required. He was right; but the back of the job has been broken, and before long we shall see the triumphant finish of the line for which Auckland and Taranaki fought so strenuously with voice and pen in the young ‘Nineties.
I hope I'll be there when the first locomotive from Stratford comes into Okahukura station, and if old-timers Julian and Puhi chance by any joyful coincidence to be around, we'll certainly celebrate Forty Years After with a pannikin or two of “King Country ginger ale.”
The Mangaone Construction Camp on the New Railway.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
This camp is situated about fifty-two miles from Stratford, the section of line illustrated being now linked up with the main railway system from Tahora.
Part of the midnight freight now arriving at the big London and provincial stations is composed of hundreds of tons of cut flowers on their way to the early morning markets. These flowers come from the Scilly and Channel Islands, Penzance, Spalding, Holland and France, and in some cases have travelled hundreds of miles by sea and land. The transport arrangements, however, are such that within twenty-four hours of packing this floral freight is delivered to the various markets. It is of a highly perishable nature and is therefore conveyed by express passenger or “perishable” trains.
During the peak period over 100 tons, representing 6,000,000 blooms, arrive nightly at Covent Garden Market alone. The blooms, which consist chiefly of daffodils, narcissi, anemones, tulips, roses, violets, mimosa, etc., are picked while still in bud and carefully packed in wooden boxes, thus ensuring their reaching the market in perfect condition. During a normal season, 4,000 to 5,000 tons of cut blooms arrive from the Continent, 3,000 tons from the Channel Islands, 1,700 tons from Spalding, and 1,100 tons from the Scilly Islands and Penzance district. —From The Railway Newsletter.
(Written for the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” byK. J. .)
Royal
“Now I'm made for life,” was the expression of a boy of sixteen when he got his first job working a pumping engine for a wage of twelve shillings per week. He was the son of a fireman who was then earning twelve shillings a week and keeping a wife and six children. Having never gone to school, this boy, when old enough to earn, had to contribute to the general support of the family. His first earnings were twopence per day minding a widow's cows, later two shillings a week minding horses, and later still six shillings per week as assistant fireman to his father, and “a made man” at sixteen as a fireman on twelve shillings per week. That boy was George Stephenson, who at eighteen could neither read nor write, and who feeling the lack of education, attended a night school, and at nineteen could just write his own name, work a simple sum, and spell a few words. At twenty-one, in addition to his wages, he saved a little, making shoes and shoe lasts. After marrying Fanny Henderson, a farmer's servant, he devoted much time to studying mechanics, and tried to solve the problem of perpetual motion, but failed. Having repaired a damaged clock successfully, he became clock repairer for the whole district.
George Stephenson.
In 1803, his only son, Robert, was born, after which he took a situation at the West Moor Colliery, Killingworth. Here he lost his wife, and later went to Scotland to repair one of Boulton-Watt's engines. He remained a year and saved twenty-eight pounds, and returned to find his father blind, as a result of an accident.
Stephenson was constantly taking pieces of machinery apart in order to familiarise himself with their action. In 1810, at Killingworth Hight Pit, an atmospheric or Newcomen engine, built by Smeaton, was installed to pump water from the mine, but it failed to clear the pit. “She couldn't keep her jack head in the water. All the neighbouring enginemen were tried, including the well-known Crowther, of Ouseburn, but they were clean beat,” so says an early record. During the erection of this machine Stephenson had observed that it was defective, and that it would never keep the water under. After twelve months it was pronounced a total failure. The pumping made no progress, and the workmen were “drowned out.” Being only a brakesman, Stephenson's opinion was considered of no value. One day, while examining the engine, Stephenson was asked by Kit Heppel, one of the foremen: “Weel, George, what do you make of her?” George answered “I could alter her, make her draw, and send the men to the bottom in a week's time.” Heppel reported this to his chief, Dodds, who then asked Stephenson to take action in the matter, which he did, selecting his own workmen and making the necessary alterations in three days. By this time the pit was nearly full of water, and many came to see George restart the engine, including the men who had put her up. At ten o'clock that night the water was lower in the pit than it had ever been, and in less than a week the pit was clear and the workmen were “sent to the bottom.” For this work Stephenson was rewarded with ten pounds.
Two years later he was promoted to engine-wright at Killingworth Colliery at a wage of one hundred pounds per year.
So step by step, unaided he carried on. In 1813, Lord Ravensworth, an employer of Stephenson's, financed the building of an engine
The story of the five hundred pound prize engine—the “Rocket,” is now world-wide history. This remarkable man had the moral courage to go to school with his own son, thus acknowledging his ignorance in order to grow wise. What Stephenson wrought is seen everywhere. The wonderful network of railways crossing and recrossing one another all the world over—the mighty engineering of rivers and swamps, over hills and mountains—under the Thames and through the heart of the Alps, all owe their origin to George Stephenson—the Father of Railways.
New Zealand Railways Suburban Services.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
An Auckland suburban train passing through Green Lane station.
Stockton & Darlington
Railway.
The Company's
Coach
Coach
Called The
Experiment,
Which commenced travelling on Monday, the 10th of October, 1825, will continue to run from Darlington to Stockton and from Stockton to Darlington every day [Sundays excepted] setting off from the Depot at each place, at the times specified as under (viz.):-
On Monday,
From Stockton at half-past 7: in the Morning, and will reach Darlington about half-past 9: the Coach will set off from the latter place on its return at 3 in the Afternoon, and reach Stockton about 5.
Tuesday,
From Stockton at 3 in the Afternoon, and will reach Darlington about 5.
On the following days, viz:—
Wednesday, Thursday & Friday,
From Darlington at half-past 7 in the Morning and will reach Stockton about half-past 9: the Coach will set off from the latter place on its return at 3 in the Afternoon, and reach Darlington about 5.
Saturday,
From Darlington at 1 in the Afternoon and will reach Stockton about 3.
Passengers to pay 1s. each, and will be allowed a Package of not exceeding 14lb. All above that weight to pay at the rate of 2d. per stone extra. Carriage of small parce.'s 3d. each. The company will not be accountable for Parcels of above £5 value, unless paid for as such.
Mr. Richard Pigersgill at his Office in Commercial Street, Darlington: and Mr. Tully at Stockton, will for the present receive any Parcels and Book Passengers.
Wording of the first Railway Time Table issued by the Stockton and Darlington Railway, October, 1825.
Touring Otago Farmers
Visit To South Westland.
The forty Otago farmers and their womenfolk who returned to Christchurch after a trip to the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers, were as full of praise for the scenic beauties of South Westland as the party from Christchurch which preceded them some weeks ago (says the Christ church “Press”). They agree that this tour is one of the finest over so short a period in the Dominion, and should be more widely exploited among the public. The tour was organised by the Railways Department.
The party, which was in charge of Mr. D. S. Broughton, Railway Commercial Agent at Dunedin, arrived in Christchurch on June 24th, and travelled to Hokitika the following day. On June 26th, during the trip by car from Hokitika to Waiho, the tourists met with their only rain on the whole trip. Comfortably settled at the Glacier Hotel, Waiho, they made, the next day, a trip to Franz Josef Glacier with Guide Peter Graham and others of his staff. On Friday last half the party went on an excursion to Lake Mapourika, while the others, keen alpinists, returned to the glacier, and were able to climb to Defiance Hut, which they made their base for ski-ing expeditions.
The weather throughout was ideal, and all were impressed with the mountain and bush scenery of the district they visited, particularly in the seventeen miles between Waiho and Weheka. The quality of the land at Hari Hari, Wataroa, Waiho, and Weheka was also widely admired. The arrangements and accommodation were in every case excellent.
The Chief Industry on the West Coast of the South Island.
The entrance to a coalmine (1,000ft. up the mountain side) between Runanga and Dunollie, Westland, New Zealand.
The opinions of the party generally on the tour were put to a reporter of the “Press” by Mr. W. H. Craigie. Most of them had never been to the West Coast before, he said. They found the weather ideal and the scenery magnificent. They praised warmly the hospitality of the Graham brothers at Waiho, and of the Sullivan brothers at Weheka. The motor trips were made doubly interesting by the service drivers, who were both skilled and informative. At Weheka and Waiho they saw cattle and sheep of which they were envious, and much fine grazing land. In the Weheka Valley there were hoggets big enough to pass off as four-tooth. There, too, they were shown some excellent samples of wool.
“I hope more of these trips are arranged by the Department,” said Mr. Craigie. “I don't think that scenically there is a better trip in the country. We were exceptionally well treated throughout, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.”
Mountain Grandeur in the Arthur's Pass National Park, New Zealand
(Photos by courtesy of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club.)
The Arthur's Pass National Park, 87 miles by rail from Christchurch (South Island), is perhaps unrivalled a where in the world for the magnificence of its mountain, gorge and forest scenery. This great scenic won-derland is being increasingly popularised by the Railway Department's cheap week-end excursions (among the most successful of their kind in New Zealand) and by members of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club, whose efforts to make the attractions of the Park more widely known are in every way laudable. The illustrations shew: (1) Panorama from Mt. Gizeh. (2) Mt. Davie (7,490ft.). (3) Mt. Rolleston. (4) Mts. Rosamund and Marion with the Cronin ice-fall. (5) The Westland bluffs of Carrington peak. (6) Climbing party on the summit of Mt. Gizeh. (7) Looking up the Anti-Crow River. (8) The watershed of the Deception and Mingha Rivers.
History of the Canterbury Railways
How the Early Settlers Solved a Big Transport Problem.
(Continued.)
Continuing his report on the subject of railway communication between Lyttelton and Christchurch, Mr. G. R. Stephenson states:-
“The mid-level route would ascend the western side of the Sumner Valley at an inclination of about 1 in 30 to a tunnel 800 yards long under Evans Pass, at an elevation of about 250 feet. It would descend from the tunnel by a side cutting to Polhill's Bay, thence by a tunnel half a mile in length through the point known as Sticking Point, to the Market Place at Lyttelton. It would reach the Market Place at an elevation of 100 feet above the sea, an arrangement of a very objectionable character in every way, and one which would involve perpetual charges for cartage, haulage, etc., between the high level station and the ship's side. The length of this line would be nearly eleven miles, and the tunnelling close upon 2,600 yards, and there would be heavy side cuttings. There are strong objections to this line. It appears a line might be constructed with less objectionable features; it is therefore unnecessary to offer further observations on this project.
The low level route would ascend from the Sumner Valley by an incline of 1 in 200, 75 chains long, to the mouth of a tunnel under Evans Pass. This tunnel would be 1,320 yards in length, and would carry the line on an inclination of 1 in 200 to Gollan's Bay, where, according to the plans, it appears to stop. The length of this line, from Christchurch to Gollan's Bay, would be nine miles 16 chains, and the amount of tunnelling 2,253 yards. There are no detailed plans for carrying on this line from Gollan's Bay to Port Lyttelton, but presuming it is essential to carry it on, the line would probably skirt the shore in a rocky side cutting for a length of 50 chains, would then pass by a tunnel 110 yards long into Polhill's Bay; would cross the bight of that bay by 30 chains of cutting and embankment (or possibly viaduct) and, passing by a tunnel 946 yards long under Sticking Point, emerge at the level of the Lyttelton Quays east of the jetty, and enter a station ten chains further on. On this supposition the line would be in length 10 miles 60 chains from Christchurch, and would involve tunnelling to the extent of 3,309 yards, besides some difficult side cuttings.
Coming now to the second proposition, passing Mount Pleasant to the west. This is unquestionably the most direct line between Christchurch and Lyttelton, as it involves a distance of only six miles of line from station to station, against 10 miles 60 chains by the shortest route to the east. Starting from Christchurch at the same point as the other line, and at an elevation of 15 feet above high water, it will rise five feet in the first mile, will fall eleven feet in the second mile, and will then be level to the foot of an incline of 1 in 50 which will lead to the mouth of a tunnel 34 feet above high water, and 29 feet above the level of Lyttelton station. It is proposed that this tunnel be carried through the mountain for the length of 2,882 yards, and having completely pierced it, the line will descend to the level of the quays at Port Lyttelton by an easy gradient of 1 in 200, and without any works being required of an extraordinary character.
In all respects (saving and excepting the tunnel), it admits of no doubt that this western route is the preferable route for a line of railway between Christchurch and Lyttelton. This line is very much shorter than any that can be carried to the east of Mount Pleasant; the works on either side of the tunnel are void of difficulty, and may indeed be described as light; there are no heavy side or other cuttings; no bad curves, as upon the eastern lines; no heavy embankments and no objectionable gradients. The stations are well situated both at Lyttelton and Christchurch, and are placed at points from which the line will admit of extension, either inland or to other shipping places, should the need of the colonists require it.
The construction, however, of a tunnel of such considerable length as that proposed on this route, renders it necessary to enter very carefully into consideration concerning the nature of the ground through which it is to be worked. I am instructed that the approaches at both ends will be through an alluvial deposit of clay with boulders. The mountain itself presents all the features of volcanic rock, exhibiting a series of lava streams dipping from 1 in 10 to 1 in 15
Constructing the Christchurch-Lyttelton Tunnel.
Photo, courtesy Lyttelton Harbour Board.)
A view of the tunnel works, 1866, shewing Peacock's store on the left and the Union Bank on the right.
The cost of the works is estimated as:–Sumner Valley line £327,632, direct line £245,071; from an examination of the ground, that where the lava has been too rapidly cooled it has not assumed the crystalline form, but is more friable and crumbly. The ashes and scoria are porous and may contain water, but I do not anticipate any difficulty whatever in dealing with it.”
Mr. Stephenson then deals with the question of a possible shortening of the tunnel by the use of steeper gradients, but concludes that the line now proposed is the best direct line that can be formed.
“A comparison of distances shows a saving in favour of the direct route of 4 miles 60 chains between Christchurch and Lyttelton, and a saving of 427 yards of tunnelling.
Considering the element of time in construction, it is admitted that the six tunnels on the Sumner route could be pierced in less time than difference in favour of direct line, £82,561.
Against this saving of about £80,000, has to be put the delay of two years in time of construction, a consideration of no small importance to a growing colony. Apart from this, however, the balance of advantage is altogether in favour of the direct line.
(1) It will be constructed for £80,000 less money.
(2) It will be the shortest line between all the points.
(3) It will be the cheapest line to work, entailing less rolling stock, less wear and tear, and less consumption of fuel.
(4) For the same reason it will be the least expensive line to maintain.
(5) And on all these grounds it is evident
On these considerations, then, I am of opinion that the proposed western, or direct line, is the line best adapted for a railway between Christ-church and Port Lyttelton, and is the line most suited to meet the wants of the inhabitants of both those towns, as well as of the colonists at large.”
Mr. Stephenson concluded his report with the following advice:–
“I make this report not only in conformity with my instructions to consider the best line of railway, but because Lyttelton is best served by this route, and because, on every account, I apprehend that Lyttelton is the desirable point to be reached. Lyttelton is at the present time the port of the colony. Any attempt to remove that port must involve the removal of its population and its interest. It is not probable that for many years, at least, there will be any considerable trade at any other points of Port Victoria. I would add, however, that if, at any time, a harbour should be formed at Gollan's Bay, and it should be considered desirable for shipping purposes to extend the line of railway from Lyttelton to Gollan's Bay, the direct line will place Gollan's Bay a mile and thirty chains nearer to Christchurch, via Lyttelton, than the two places can be brought together by the route via Sumner Valley. I consider, moreover, that, as the existing port, Lyttelton has not only a prior claim to
New Zealand Railways Big Northern Terminal, Seen From Aloft.
(Photo, courtesy The “Sun” Newspapers, Ltd.)
A recent aerial photograph of Auckland's new station buildings.
“In conclusion, I would desire especially to impress upon the inhabitants of the Province of Canterbury that, in dealing with this question, so all-important to their present interests and future prosperity, it is of the highest importance that they should not be deterred by minor considerations from at once adopting the best line they can possibly obtain. A line of railway from Christchurch to Port Lyttelton must inevitably be the key to the whole railway system of the province; and whilst probably at no part of the province will so much difficulty present itself to the construction of a railway, so no railway in the province can be expected hereafter to return anything equivalent to the returns of the line which will connect the shipping port of Canterbury with the centre of the settlement. To the development of the vast resources of Canterbury a railroad appears to be the one thing needful. I make this report in view of these considerations, and in recommending the colonists to provide that their road should be the best road possible, I do so in the conviction that I am recommending the measure which will be the most conducive to their future and their permanent prosperity, and which, whatever may be its present cost, will inevitably prove in the end the cheapest and most advantageous.”
(To be continued.)
Told ByLeo Fanning
These be the days when woman's super-conquest of man includes the capture of the term “bachelor,” for no unmarried lady will agree to be classed as a spinster, except on a census schedule or other formal paper which is not much in the public eye. Many of the “bachelor birds” (masculine and feminine) to-day are blithesome flutterers who yearn not for the cage, however gilded.
* * *
Let no reader imagine that the “bachelor girl is a product of the Great War, which has already been blamed too much for some things and not enough for others. The “bachelor girl” came on to the world's stage before 1914, and she arrived respectably. Nothing would be more absurd than to define a “bachelor girl” as a person who is an ardent lover of cigarettes and spiritous liquors. We all know some “bachelor girls” who are merry souls although they have no yearning to smoke nor sip the insidious cocktail. What then is the “bachelor girl?” Doth she scoff at Cupid and spurn the worshipful wooer? Is she wedded to her own notions of life? No, dear friends. She is simply a young citizen (not always so young) who wishes to, live along peacefully and brightly, with well-paid work and enough play to keep her heart bright and her eyes sparkling. She has no unchangeable attitude for or against marriage, but has no eagerness to change the comfortable single way for any doubtful condition of matrimony. Good luck to her!
* * *
Now for the men. First of all, it is well to recall some of the old-fashioned types of bachelor (the chaps who have figured in and out of novels).
(a) The man who has suffered heart blight. This type is seldom seen outside of a novel. The girl of his heart, a peerless beauty (which has taken the best part of a chapter to describe) pines away and dies, or is killed in an accident. The man is as near heart-broken as Nature will permit. A gentle melancholy comes upon him. All women are as one to him now–unseen, unheard, unnoticed. He takes to astronomy and falls from a tower, to rejoin his soul's mate in the Better Land.
(b) The man who has been cruelly jilted. In some cases (especially in the books) he dallies with drink, dice and the devil to beguile the torturing time. He may become coldly cynical or savagely murderous.
(c) The jolly old bachelor. He has often figured in fiction as a rich uncle who comes to the rescue of erring nephews and a comforter of beautiful nieces who have been crossed in love or otherwise vexed.
(d) The wily young handsome bachelor. He goes among winsome maids on the principle that he who hesitates is saved. The best of the blondes and brunettes have not interested him enough to peg him down to a twelfth of an acre and a bungalow for life, but suddenly a little lady, as demure as a nun, swings him to the altar. So that is the end of him who used to think that to be married was to be marred (or “ma'd-in-law,” as one of my punny friends might say)—debarred from the cup that cheers and oft inebriates.
* * *
Before I go further with the men I must discuss for a few moments the wife who has captured the wild bachelor. Does she always give a warm welcome to his old-time bachelor pals? She does not. Does she not fear that he may step again among the hops or slip not the amber slide of whisky? Does she not so artfully manage things that gradually but surely there is a
* * *
There are two kinds (perhaps more) of married bachelor-the kind of man who does not get the married state of mind, no matter how long he has been wedded. To some extent his wife is widowed while wedded.
There is the man who married in the heyday of his bachelorial haymaking and has never settled down into sedateness. If his wife fails to get a disciplinary grip of him during the first year or two of married life, he will probably be untamed for the rest of his days or until rheumatism or other ailment makes him mend his ways and glad to accept kind, but undeserved, nursing at home.
* * *
There is the bachelor who has married in his late forties, or after. He is usually fat, unwieldy, ponderous, dogmatic-“set in his ways,” as his friends would say. He may be very untidy, too, not at all a good bargain in the marriage mart, unless he has plenty of money. But even when he is encrusted with wealth as well as selfishness, he may be a very poor catch.
* * *
Some bachelors cling to their unblessed singleness for decades in sheer selfishness, and then marry in the same spirit-selfishness. They fear a lonely old age in lodgings, and so manage to mesmerise simple women into caretaker jobs.
This class may include the hoarding type of bachelor. He has long been much more deeply interested in making money than in matrimony (which has turned out to be too much mater and too little money for some of his acquaintances). However, eventually, the penurious pecunious person may become infatuated with a charming fluffy young blonde or a romantic brunette, or he may decide to marry as a matter of deliberate policy, which he learns to regret. His friends and enemies have usually the satisfaction of seeing him yoked to a lady who loves the gay life and likes to see money going only the one way, over the counter in rolling platoons of coins and squads of notes.
* * *
Some of these elderly bachelors, especially the ones who have plenty of property, are not indifferent to the smiles of the fair, but they are wary of the altar or the Registrar's office. To them Cupid's dart gives no more pain than the pin does to the cushion. It is easy to imagine their hearts as the untroubled butt of many Cupid's darts which stick there in pathetic ineffectiveness until some day a super-Cupid looms up with a harpoon-gun which gets through the old crust, and the chronic bachelor loses his treasured liberty.
* * *
Perhaps the greatest peril of the bachelor who is trying to hold fast to freedom is the woman with the haunting eyes; lips, too; in fact, the whole face; altogether an alluring, mysterious personality. She has been mentioned by various writers; I have seen her myself, for she is a type who belongs to all countries. You may see her once in a year, or once in a life-time, or not at all; it depends on your good or bad luck.
This is how it happens. The bachelor, not yet too old to be unattractive, is going gaily along a city street. He has just had a satisfactory interview with a cold and stern bank manager. He feels as blithe as a bell-bird in spring. Everything is right with him and the world. Then, suddenly, has gaze meets the woman with the haunting eyes, which hold his for some moments. Then she has passed. What of the world now and his bell-bird blitheness? The man has not exactly fallen in love; at least, not at the moment. Poor fool. He comforts himself with that thought, and hurries into his club for something to cure his fright. What avails the potion? It turns against him. By the time he has five or six uplifts he knows he loves the lady, and that he will never be happy till he gets her. He knows that the girl and he are born affinities, destined for each other since the beginning of time. He feels that they lived and loved in the long-gone centuries. In ancient Greece or Rome? In old Egypt? Anyhow, somewhere it was in a previous life, and now he must find his love again. So he hunts about, and battles about until he gets her. Is he happy ever after?
The novelist does not say, but leaves us with the hope that the haunting and the hunting made a perfect match.
Still hale and hearty at ninety. Mr. A. MacKellar, of Roslyn, Dunedin, who was at one time Stationmaster at Outram, Otago.
By Those Who Like Us
The following appreciative references to the transport arrangements made by the Department in connection with the recent Show at Leeston, are taken from the proceedings of a meeting of the Show Association, as reported in the Ellesmere Guardian:-
Referring to the Railway Department, the Secretary said that the Department's officers had been very good to the Association at Show time. The trains which conveyed implements and machinery had been pulled up at the Show Ground for unloading—saving a great deal of time and trouble. One big exhibiting firm had been able to unload all its implements at the ground, while the unloading of another firm's exhibits was similarly facilitated. It meant a lot of work to take the machinery from the Leeston station yard to the Show Ground. The machinery firms were very appreciative of the Department's desire to consult their convenience.
Mr. Rennie moved that a letter of thanks be sent to the Railway Department. People were very ready to grumble if everything did not please them, and it was certainly up to the Association to say “Thank you” to the Department for the interest and consideration it had shown.
Mr. McGill seconded the motion, which was carried unanimously. He added that the Department deserved credit for the convenient way in which the trucks conveying exhibits were drawn up to the loading bank, so that the work of unloading and loading could be carried out expedi-tiously.
“While we are on railway matter,” said Mr. Schnells, “I would like to mention that many people commented very favourably upon the widening of the road by the railway crossing. The Railway Department assisted us greatly in having the improvement effected, and we should let them know that we appreciate their help.”
From the Hon. Secretary, Highland Pipe Bands Association of New Zealand, to the District Traffic Manager, Dunedin:-
I have to thank you on behalf of this Association for the excellent manner in which your Department catered for the Pipe Bands’ Excursion to Greymouth recently.
The courtesy, efficiency and co-operation displayed by all members of your staff connected with the excursion, was very much appreciated by my Committee, and was in no small measure responsible for the success of the outing.
* * *
From Mr. E. F. Duthie, Secretary, The Otago Agricultural and Pastoral Society, to the District Traffic Manager, Dunedin:-
I desire, on behalf of the Committee, to express their thanks and appreciation to your officers and men for the satisfactory manner in which all the stock exhibited at our Summer Show was handled by the Department.
We received no complaints of any delay, and would appreciate if you would kindly convey to the members of your staff concerned our thanks and appreciation of their services and attention.
* * *
From the Hon. Secretary, Spreydon Baptist Sunday School, Christchurch, to the District Traffic Manager, Christchurch:-
On behalf of the Superintendent, officers and teachers of the above Sunday School, I desire to express to you our keen sense of appreciation of the kindness and courtesy shown by your officers in connection with our picnic to Kaiapoi.
As far as the train arrangements were concerned, no effort was spared by your officers to make our trip as enjoyable and as free from worry and trouble as possible, and we beg to assure you that we will have no hesitation whatever in making use of your facilities again as circumstances permit.
(By
.)Tangiwai The late Sir Robert Stout, some years ago wrote for me an account of his first visit to Lake Taupo, by way of Napier, over the rather rough road that has now become a great motoring highway. It was in the year 1880, when Stout was practising law in Wellington. The “grand old man,” giving his impressions of that drive across the mountains to the heart of the island, said that he was bound to Taupo to attend a great Maori meeting over a land dispute, concerning the Rangipo block-Waiouru railway station is in that part of the back country-and he was counsel for one of the native factions, the Upper Wanganui tribe.
“Leaving Wellington in the steamer Tararua, which afterwards came to such a disastrous end,” he wrote, “we reached Hawke's Bay late in the forenoon, too late to catch the coach to Taupo. The coach then went as far as Tarawera the first day, and next morning at six o'clock continued its way to Taupo. I hired a buggy, with an old man-o'-war's man as driver, who had never been over the Taupo road before. We decided to travel all night to catch the coach at Tarawera. How we crossed and recrossed the Esk River about forty times in a day of sweltering sun, under a cloudless sky-
'Like the hanging cup of a big blue flower Was the topaz sky above'-how we stopped at Pohue, resting there about an hour or so, and how we reached the Upper Mahaka and crossed it in the dark, not knowing much about the stream, which has often proved treacherous and deadly to travellers-need not be detailed. We rested in the Mohaka accommodation house for a few hours, and then, in the dark, and over a road unknown to us, we made our way. The road was not smooth; part of it had recently been made out of the pumice and such soil as was there, but we went on, though slowly. We reached a point near the top of Turanga-kumu just as the sun rose. What a glorious view spread out before us! On our left there was a deep valley or gorge, whilst on the right, towards the north and east, peaks and ranges draped in places with mist, in other places with forest glories, met our gaze. The man-o'-war's man stopped our conveyance to take in the view. To show his appreciation, he said the view was the finest he had ever seen in his life, and was worth five pounds!”
Taupo township was a rough shop in those days. Mr. Stout-as he was then-found the place so crowded that he considered himself lucky in getting a place to sleep under the counter of a store.
The inquisitive and acquisitive habits of that hardy old bird of the wilds, the weka are the subject of many a bush tale. The “Maori hen” will make off with anything it finds in camp. Once, when the present writer was camped on the banks of the Mokau River, a weka got away with a half-bar of soap which had been left alongside the canoe. We found the
The late Mr. J. Orchiston, for many years Chief Engineer of the New Zealand Telegraph Services, once told me of his bush experiences when he was exploring a telephone line route in the south-west of Southland, to link up Preservation Inlet with the outside world. He had a small rifle, which enabled him to obtain some extra fare for his party, in the way of pigeons, ducks and weka, in the wild country beyond the
The Centre Of A Rich Dairying District In New Zealand.
(Photo, A. B. Harris.)
A view of the Stratford station yard, Taranaki, shewing express train at the platform.
Some curiously interesting pars touching New Zealand life a few decades back are to be picked up in the files of the “Waka Maori,” a newspaper-gazette for the Maori people, published in Wellington by the Government. In the seventies the “Waka” was printed in Maori and English in parallel columns. Here is an item of the issue of January, 1876, printed on the front page under the Royal Arms:
“Notices from Correspondents.—Mita K. Ngatipara, of Raglan, Auckland, has a canoe for sale. It is sixty-six feet in length and six feet wide. He says: ‘This is an exceedingly swift-pulling canoe. When paddled by experts in handling their paddles, no other canoe could come near it. If any man, or men, or hapu, or tribe, in any part of the island should be desirous of purchasing it, it will be sold for £200, but no credit will be given.'”
Good luck to the Maoris, who are putting up a strong protest against the proposal to make the Ninety-Mile Beach, in the Far North, a racing ground for the motor speed maniacs. The speedsters’ idea is to make the long beach a great gathering place for the motor racers, and the hope is to have “thousands of cars” assembling there to watch the scorchers tear up the sands. The Maoris have very sound grounds for their objections to the notion. The beach is the principal place where the valuable toheroa bivalve is found, and the tinning of it has become an important industry in the North. The disturbance of the sand and the soaking in of the
The Ninety-Mile Beach (by the way it is in reality not more than sixty miles) is a capital highway for visitors to the Furthest North, but the ordinary traffic is not great. The speedsters, whose ambition it is to rival the record of the late Sir Henry Segrave, are however, not concerned with scenery or anything but the mad joy of whizzing like a comet, regardless of all else. The Maoris have definite rights to the undisturbed possession of their fisheries and food preserves, and they will be perfectly justified in putting up a barrage on the beach, so far as the racers are concerned.
Occasionally, in past years, bushmen and Maori bird-hunters have seen a white wood pigeon. This native bird we used to shoot, of course, until its decreasing numbers led to its protection by law; who could resist the temptation of potting the fat kukupa that made such a glorious roast or stew? But the rare white pigeon was a true rara avis. It was an albino, a freak, albeit a beautiful one. Little wonder that the Maoris regarded the albino as tapu.
Some of the old Maoris of the Taupo country have told me of the curious beliefs of old concerning such birds, folk-notions of the days when birds of all kinds, especially pigeon, tui and kaka parrot swarmed in all the forests. When
Transporting New Zealand's Produce.A goods train steaming out of Palmerston North Station, North Island.
There was a dread spirit of the mountains and the forests in the South Taupo country, and the name of this god of the wilderness was Te Ririo. The white birds were under his special protection. Should you kill one, the vengeance of Te Ririo would descend upon you. The atua would suddenly swoop down on you, stretch forth great hands like claws, and carry you off, if it were night; he would come for you, too, on a lowering cloudy day. It would go hard with you in the dreadful places to which the forest god haled you; if you returned to your friends you would be half-crazed, maybe you would die of fright.
That is if you were a Maori. If you were a pakeha, well, it was just a question whether vou might not be quite immune from the anger of the Maori gods; if you were a Maori, of course, you had to take what was coming to you. Nowadays this magic law of Te Ririo has been improved upon by the pakeha legislature, which has placed a strict tapu on all the birds of the Maori forests.
Understanding is the first great need in all human relations.—Ibsen.
(By
, Dip. Ed.)W.S. Dale , M.A.In the following instalment of Mr. Dade's scries of articles on Modern Industrial Psychology, some interesting suggestions are made touching the solution of the practical difficulties associated with the problem of selection in industry.
Last month the essential principles of selection as for work were considered. This article will discuss the practicability of the theory as there outlined. Just now there is a deal of discussion on the question of “unskilled” labour, but such labour as is available is not of necessity “unskilled.” It is during times such as we are now experiencing that a start should be made by employers to find out what are the potentialities of such labour. The psychologist should be called upon to make a suitable selection from the applicants who apply for work. Of course it must be admitted that there is a difficulty when a “skilled” man in one trade applies for another position. It is economically unsound to take him from a trade in which he has been trained and place him in another. Moreover, it may be positively unjust to do such a thing for there may be no inconsiderable weight in the social factor— family attachments, buying a house, or other things which in their disruption by change, may render productiveness negative.
To attempt to carry out the principle of selection with adults at the present time would, in all probability, produce nothing but conflict. It is, one feels, with the boy and the girl, that a start should be made. They are the immediate wage-earners-to-be. At once the question arises, how can the selection process be organised? Let us sketch it out. Since our system of education is that of the State, administered through nine Education Boards, it is not a difficult matter. Each Board could have one Vocational Laboratory in charge of trained psychologists with a knowledge of adapting mental tests to special conditions. Thus, each child would appear here during his last year at school. Tests could be made for various aptitudes, summaries could be prepared of sight, hearing, spatial perception, reaction tests and the many other essential details measurable with reasonable reliability. The tests, together with school records, could be worked up to give certain specific information at present only realised by teachers. In point of fact many employers to-day realise this by asking certain schools for a particular type of boy, placing their faith, thereby, in the judgment of the teacher.
The Laboratory would require to keep a check on all labour processes, detail them into their elements and finally determine what special capacities— both mental and physical, were required to carry through the component parts in production. In addition to this there would have to be kept a “job development” section. Here an economist would have to be appointed perhaps, in conjunction with the local University. His particular job would be to watch possible industrial trends and developments. This would prevent an over-supply in any one department. Suppose, for instance, that a boy is fitted for iron designing, but the possibilities in this direction indicate a future restricted field; then, upon the
In The Auckland Province.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The men who operate trains on the N.Z.R.
Thus the committee would have before it a complete set of facts, all types of information; first a full set of facts relative to the capacity of the potential wage-earner; second, information relative to the capacities necessary for any sort of labour in which there was a vacancy at the time; and, finally, the trend and probable demand for labour in this or that field within the next year or two. Such a scheme would do much to save the lamentable loss of effort now apparent, and direct children into work likely to hold them for a considerable time. The net results in our industrial world, would, I aver, be even greater, for it would not be until financial stringencies took place that employers would stocktake. This system would always be stocktaking and for some time ahead.
I do not suggest that, at first, all children should be put through this “mill.” It is, of course, not necessary to set up a machine which by its own weight would fall to the ground. For this reason its activities might at first be restricted to boys about to enter upon an apprenticeship. Even to-day, in some trades, boys are accepted only upon certain conditions, but strangely enough, these conditions are not what can be termed “capacity” conditions. That is to say, they are not such as would indicate to the employer an ability to undertake certain actions involving specific performance in a particular field. For instance, take the setting up of this article. The ability of the type-setter is not only dependent upon rapidity and dexterity, but more truly upon the capacity to retain in the memory a relatively large number of words. Experiments show that a typesetter with a good “immediate” memory will do twice as much work as the man with a poor memory. This is merely another way of saying that the time lost in referring to the original manuscript is not made up by rapidity nor dexterity on the keys
To pursue these researches further it should be a condition of employment that a potential typesetter much have a good memory as well as certain muscular control which will enable him to manipulate the keys with some degree of celerity— these are the elements of innate fitness for the job, and these are the bases upon which the employers ought, logically, to select their hands.
The School or Laboratory itself should be fully equipped. This does not mean that it should be a collection of finely adjusted machines each waiting a little subject upon which to work. Too often the idea of using experimental psychology has been restricted to the more superficial measurements— those mentioned earlier. But in conjunction with this should go what Burt, Psychologist
The rough attempts that the employer sets can be refined, pruned and altered, until they are definitely a “test” within the scientific connotation of the term. Moreover, such set tests, by reason of their being worked over, can be standardised so that a similar set can be used for a tremendous number of children. It becomes an efficient test which will give not only trustworthy and comparable technique, but also standards— or as they are technically termed “norms,” measures, that is, of superior, average or inferior performances. An illustration of this principle is that practised in some postal districts for the employment of men. A “sample” test of the work to be performed is given.
A postman may be called upon to read quickly and accurately a series of badly addressed envelopes, a sorter to distribute in piles, according to area numbers, a large pile of “dummies.” These may be checked over for error. The telegraphist may be tried out at a key which will check out errors, or at a receiving set working to a given number of words perminute. But it is obvious that these “tests” may be passed as the result of training, but in themselves are not indicative of aptitudes or capacities. The real result comes when there is found some third result, a common factor it might be termed, which will show clearly the capacity of the individual in specified directions to meet the problems which the job presents. This is, correctly speaking, the real germ of the whole system of selection.
Earlier there was a reference to what the school should do. It is becoming recognised more and more that not all children have the same capacity for all subjects. Within the last few years there has developed a feeling that teachers, with their intimate knowledge of the children in their charge, are capable of compiling a complete dossier of the traits of the individual. Marked ability should be developed so that by the time the child arrives at his leaving stage, in addition to the tests, both psychological and mental, there is a fine record of personal observation which is of considerable use to the expert. Many readers may consider the assertions in this article rather too advanced, but, in point of fact, work on somewhat similar lines is being done in England and in America. In England there is the “National Institute of Industrial Psychology” which sets out to solve the difficulties under discussion. For that reason it may be interesting to citesome cases and show how the system works. To term it “mind-reading” is to give it a popular term, but take this
Railwaymen's Trial Of Strength.The tug-of-war contest between the Traffic and Maintenance Branches at the combined Railway picnic at Napier.
The examiner gets all the information (whether useful or useless) he can from the parents and teacher. Johnnie trots along without any apprehension of the examination. A conversation ensues in which the adult proves a very pleasing listener. He is listening for the way things are said! Next comes a selection of tests of different types. Those of mechanical aptitude Johnnie finds good fun. He likes the sort where there is a picture with something missing— the big bundle of cut-out pieces from which to
They are idols of hearts and of households. 20-Dickens.Some charming camera studies in a child's toyland.
There is another test for hand and eye together. The expert notes how well these work together and makes a note of it. So pass the three hours. Later there comes to Johnnie's parents a report with advice of the trained scientist on the boy's future. The advice is eminently practical and made out with due regard for the labour market (noted earlier) and the ability of his parents to pay for a career— this latter aspect being intensely valuable to Mr. and Mrs. Jones.
Sufficient has been said to show that we do need psychology in industry. It can do much to help output; it will keep square pegs out of round holes or put square pegs into square holes— if they can be made so. Every effort we make in this direction is a step towards a happier working life and an added lift to output in production.
(To be concluded next month.)
Excursions On The New Zealand Railways.
(Courtesy, Christchurch “Star.”)
Over 4,000 passengers availed themselves of the Department's cheap school excursion fares in Canterbury and Westland Districts (South Island) recently. The illustrations shew one of the popular excursion trains leaving Christchurch.
Joke Wit And Humour
There was great excitement aboard the liner.
“Man overboard!” was the cry. “Gentleman overboard, if you please.” said Mrs. De Snobbe indignantly. “That's my husband.”
* * *
“The bridegroom's gift to the bride was a handsome diamond brooch, besides many other beautiful things in cut glass.”
* * *
Old gentleman (in the train about to start): “Here boy! here's twopence. Go to the refreshment room and get me a bun and one for yourself.”
Boy, after visit to refreshment room— running up to the train now moving— and eating a bun as he ran: “Here's your penny guv'nor— they only had one.”
* * *
City Visitor: “Which is correct, to speak of a sitting hen or a setting hen?”
Farmer: “Don't know, and don't care. What I'd like to know is, when a hen cackles, has she laid or lied?”
* * *
Two Scotchmen walked into a bar. One of them desired to purchase a bottle of whisky, but when he came to count the small change in his purse he found he had only twelve shillings and threepence. He turned to his companion and said: “Jock, give me threepence to get a bottle of whisky.”
Jock looked carefully in his purse, and produced a coin. “Here's sixpence.” he said. “Get a bottle for me, too.”
* * *
Maid: “You know the old vase you said had been handed down from generation to generation?”
Mistress: “Yes.”
Maid: “Well, this generation has dropped it.”
* * *
“Hello, where have you been?” “To the station to see my wife off for a month's visit to her mother.”
“But your hands are all black!”
“I know— I patted the engine.”
* * *
“Oh, no, dear. I'm sure he's a kind man. I just heard him say he put his shirt on a horse which was scratched.”
Journey's End.
“Hurry, Honi; you'll miss the train.” “No, I t'ink I stop— this kai perry good— plenty train to-morrow.”
With the object of mobilising station staffs into active bands of business getters for the railways, the following appeal, by circular, was recently made by the General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, to Stationmasters throughout New Zealand.
I shall be glad if Stationmasters will undertake more generally to work in with the business people of their towns in order to extend the commercial activities of the Department in the direction of obtaining direct contact with actual and potential customers.
I feel sure that a great deal more could be done than at present if Stationmasters would seize the opportunities that come their way to follow up business in the towns and districts served by their stations. To do this I recognize that they must be away from their stations to a somewhat greater extent than may have been the case in the past, and that the same quantity of station work could not be undertaken by them under these circumstances. I wish, therefore, to make it known amongst the staff that due allowance will be made in considering the quality of a Stationmaster's work for the time that he must necessarily put in while operating as the station agent for business in his territory.
For the proper carrying out of this extended activity it would be well that Stationmasters keep in close contact with the Business Agent in their district who will be available when required to assist them both with advice as to the best manner of approach in the effort to secure additional business and by personal assistance when any big business might be more certainly secured if such aid were available.
I cannot too strongly emphasize the valuable opportunities that our station staffs have for protecting our business. They are on the spot and in a position to know of competitive developments as and when they arise. Prompt action in such matters is essential to success, and all members of the staff are enjoined to keep this continually before them and take the initiative whenever opportunity may arise. The capacity of the Commercial Branch to know of developments and to deal with them must necessarily be limited, and unless our organisation is working as a complete team the best results cannot possibly be achieved. The essential function of the Commercial Branch must be to serve as a connecting link between the centre of our organization and the outposts. They are there to give advice and assistance to the Stationmasters and others, and I desire all members to take the fullest advantage of the existence of the Commercial Branch for that purpose.
Another aspect of our business that I think provides scope for a greater measure of co-ordinated effort is in the matter of co-operation between sending stations and receiving stations regarding exchange of information. When a Stationmaster finds traffic flowing away from the rail he should endeavour to ascertain by discreet enquiry and contact with the consignee or consignor (as the case may be) the reason for it. Sometimes this reason will be found to lie with the party at the other end. In such cases the Stationmaster at that end should be fully informed of the
In conclusion, I desire specially to appeal for a close and cordial rapprochement between the staffs at our stations and the members of the Commercial Branch. The closest possible contact should be maintained on all matters affecting the business of the Department, and no Stationmaster or other member of the staff should have any diffidence in seeking the advice or assistance of the Commercial Branch or of making suggestions to that Branch having for their end the protection of the Department's business.
I trust that I shall have the hearty support of all members of the staff in this extension of station work over a wider field than is now covered.
Otira Tunnel Traffic.
Since it was opened, six years ago, the traffic from west to east through the Otira Tunnel has more than doubled, says the “Christchurch Times.” In the past year the total quantity of tonnage was 633,603 tons, and in the first year that the tunnel was opened the total was 302,044 tons. No tally is kept of the traffic from east to west, as this is composed mainly of empty trucks. There has been only one interruption in traffic during the last twelve months. This was caused by washouts during the heavy rain in January, when, in three days, it was possible to get only six trains through. Up till September last, the tunnel was worked for one shift each day, but it was found that the traffic was becoming so heavy that it was necessary to work two shifts. This has been in operation since that time, and the innovation has amply repaid the Railway Department, for the amount of traffic has grown tremendously. The Otira Tunnel was constructed to handle trains totalling 1,000 tons a day; but during the past year an average of over 2,000 tons has been put through each working day. In one period early this winter, over 6,000 tons were hauled through in two days. The heaviest week on record occurred at the end of May, when 20.129 tons were hauled.
Station Buildings On The New Zealand Railways.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Wanganui Station, Wellington Province, North Island.
“Railway Week” in a New Zealand School
Some time ago, upon request, we forwarded to Mr. F.C. Proctor, a teacher at the Pikiri School (North Auckland), a sample of the literature published by the New Zealand Railways Publicity Branch. In the following letter to the Editor, Mr. Proctor describes the interesting methods adopted in utilising this literature for the enlightenment of the pupils of his school concerning the Dominion's chief transport system.
Each term, the week before the school holidays commence, I have, as a central topic for study, “The Railways of New Zealand.” I correlate practically all lessons with railways. For example: Composition, “A Trip to Waitomo Caves” (here your publicity booklets provide useful knowledge and an excellent example of how such caves may be reached and described). The writing of an essay of the kind, besides benefitting the geographical knowledge of the children, inspires in them, in some cases at least, a desire to visit these beautiful resorts. In the same way, Tongariro National Park, Mount Egmont, Rotorua, Franz Josef Glacier, Mount Cook, the Southern Lakes, Milford Sound, Stewart Island, etc., can be dealt with. In composition also, the pupils write such essays as: “I am an Enginedrivr,” “Saving the ‘Limited,’ “How I would Try to Make Crossings Safe.”
Such subjects as the latter shew the pupils clearly the great importance of vigilance at railway crossings, and as the “youth of to-day is the man of to-morrow,” it is well that children should be warned when their minds are impressionable.
In geography, the railway system is studied, maps made, pictures of stations shown, timetables perused, routes for produce from farms to ports followed out, and, in every way, the benefits that the railways provide for settlers and the community as a whole, are stressed.
During history lessons, pictures of early engines are exhibited— e.g., the “Rocket” — and the progress of power and speed of locomotives during recent years is dealt with. In civics, the discussion of such subjects as “The Management of Railways in New Zealand,” “Effect of Motor Traffic on Railway Traffic” (with the subsequent effect on taxpayers), and “The Duties of Railway Officials,” prove extremely interesting and educative.
In drawing and handwork, models and drawings of engines, tunnels, signalboxes, crossing-signals, and so forth, are made by the children.
In arithmetic, calculations of time taken by various trains to accomplish certain trips, and the finding of speeds (average) of trains (when time taken for the trip is set out) always prove interesting.
On the last day of “Railway Week” the parents are invited to visit the school and to examine the work (in connection with railways) of the children.
I feel an attempt on the part of school teachers to popularise the New Zealand Railways, per medium of the children, would have beneficial results, and that teachers generally would find considerable use for your railway booklets (if used only as extra reading matter) and for railway posters. These not only serve to brighten a schoolroom, but in many cases induce the pupils to visit the places illustrated.
Art in the Middle Ages.
“Art and the Reformation,” by G. G. Coulton, M.A., Hon. D.Litt. (Blackwell, Oxford). Having read several of “G.G's.” earlier works, dearly as we love a little argufying, we hesitated taking up this his latest volume. We are glad now we overcame our reluctance, for though the subject is one that we had concluded would prove to Mr. Coulton like a red rag to a bull, we find ourselves agreeably mistaken. For once Mr. Coulton eschews hypercriticism, and gets on with his story. Still, as is his wont, he holds to his own opinion about most things, but this he is content to state, sometimes to state emphatically, and pass on to other, for the time being, more interesting matters. Between the boards of this massive volume is gathered and arranged in easily accessible form much valuable information concerning the arts and crafts of the Middle Ages. Every chapter is worth its place, but the chapter headed “Four Self-Characterisations” is not only one of the best in the book, but, so far as we know, one of the best ever written on the subject. The four artists dealt with therein are the Italian, Cennino Cennini; the South German, Durer; the Master-Mason, Villard de Honnecourt; and the North German Monk, who has been identified as Roger of Helsmerhausen, Another excellent chapter is that dealing with the Freemasons. Mr. Coulton therein gives as his opinion that the word originally meant “workers in freestone,” thus differing from the late Dr. Cunningham and Mr. Kingsley Porter, who, respectively, explain the word as meaning “the freedom of the town,” and “free from any fee on entering the trade.” Throughout the volume there are many quaint touches of quiet humour. We are told that when Henry de Bruxelles (architect and mason of the pulpitum which divided the nave from choir in Troyes Cathedral) married, in 1384:
The Canons docked him of a day's pay, though they made up for this by a wedding present of twelve loaves and eight pints of wine, which would come to very much the same cost.
He quotes Cennini as saying that he found that his profession enticed youthful ladies, “especially those of Tuscany, to ask for face paints and complexion waters.” This provides a peg on which to hang the following story:-
Oreagna, Taddeo Gaddi, and other painters, having eaten well and filled themselves with wine at the table of the Abbot of San Miniato, discussed who was the greatest painter from Giotto onwards. When all had spoken, the sculptor Alberto Arnoldi gave his opinion: No other painter is comparable with the ladies of Florence, who habitually improve upon the Almighty's own handiwork. Are we to believe that God never created a dark Florentine? Yet who knows a lady whose face is not white? The prize was unanimously adjudged to Alberto. But even in the Middle Ages, if we are to believe the preachers, these works of complexional art betrayed a painful lack of durability.
Despite Mr. Coulton's penchant for arguebargue, there is little trace of this throughout the volume. Still the language is often vigorous and vital, while the narrative is rich in humour and humanity. The volume is fully and excellently illustrated, many of the pictures being very fine. Like most other volumes from the same pen, the end of the story is not the end of the book! The “Appendices” reach the respectable total of all but three dozen!
“Robert Louis Stevenson and the Scottish Highlanders,” by David B. Morris (Eneas Mac-Kay, Stirling, Scotland). When one remembers the many well known writers who have contributed excellent volumes to the still growing literature of Stevensoniana, one is apt to hesitate and look askance at anything there anent which comes from an unknown pen. There need be no such hesitancy in regard to Mr. Morris's book. We believe the volume is the work of a “‘prentice hand.” If so, it is a” ‘prentice hand” that lacks neither art nor cunning, backed by knowledge and heart. We say “heart” advisedly, for knowledge alone never enabled any author to write in such a way as to grip his reader's attention almost from the first line, and to hold it to the last. No Stevenson lover can afford to ignore this volume. Mr. Morris leads his
“Alan is portrayed as a lovable little man with the spirit of a game-cock, a faithful friend who risked his life for his companion, and, what is perhaps more trying, endured days of extreme fatigue for and with him. He was filled with an inordinate vanity. ‘Oh, man, am I no' a bonnie fechter?’ He was a bit of a poet. As he lay in the haystack near Silvermills he made songs about the deer and
“Delivering The Goods.”
(Photo., A. P. Godber.)
Portion of a week's output of nine engines recently delivered to the Traffic Department after being repaired in the New Workshops in the Hutt Valley, Wellington.
Familiarity with the contents of this volume will enable the reader of Stevenson's Highland novels the more intelligently to enjoy the Master and to enjoy him to the full. The volume shows that Mr. Morris has read carefully the history of the various Jacobite families, especially those of Stirlingshire and Perthshire, and his literary skill enables him to pass his knowledge thereof on in an easily assimilated form to his readers. Indeed, Mr. Morris has acquired some of Stevenson's own charm of writing, so that one reads on and reads on captivated, and must needs read on to a finish. The get-up of the volume is one with the best of Eneas MacKay's productions, and Eneas MacKay's best is some “best.” Price 5/-.
(Written for the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” byH. Collett .)
The Ghost Moths (Hepialidae) of worldwide distribution, form a rather interesting study. They are without any known allies, and wanting in both frenulum and proboscis. Purely nocturnal in habit, little is known of their “life stories,” yet, to judge by the fecundity of the females, the family must have a host of enemies, especially during the larval period. The matured insects do not appear fitted out to take nourishment, theirs seems to be a case of “stored energy,” on the depletion of which the moth, no longer possessing strength for flight, falls and becomes an easy and living prey to ants. “Charagia” is frequently found in the Australian bush, fallen to the ground, or lying in the forks of trees, covered with small ants, literally devouring him alive, without sufficient power either to fly or shake his vivisectors off.
There are 150 varieties of Hepialidae known, of which twelve are indigenous to New Zealand. They vary greatly in colouration and size.
“Hepialus Virescens,” of New Zealand, is a truly regal insect, both as regards size and colouration; the female is the larger, with a wing spread of five inches as against four inches in the male. Apart from size, the sexes are easily distinguishable, even though the colouration is somewhat similar–a bright green on the forewings with the hindwings a brownish red at the base, that merges into pale green towards the outer edge. The female has conspicuous black markings on the forewings, green thorax marked with two black bands across. The first six abdominal segments are brown, the last three green. The male has less conspicuous markings on the forewings, but carries a row of seven white spots on each, about a quarter to half an inch from the edge. The thorax is green and bears a black cross, whilst all the nine abdominal segments are brown.
The larvae are of a light yellow, bearing a spot on each segment, the twelfth of which is brown, with the head of much darker shade. There are many food plants, but the one most favoured is the wild New Zealand currant (aristotelia racemosa). The pupa also is yellowish laterally, shading into dark brown at the head.
The larvae bore galleries in the main stem of the food plant, of an intricate and unique design that is worth describing. It has an opening to the air curtained off in silk, woven and coloured so as to completely resemble the surrounding bark, and on an exact level with it. These tunnels traverse the trunk, about three inches from the surface, in a downward direction.
When the pupal stage approaches, a far more intricate tunnel is made, which ends in a spacious cavity just below the bark, and with a large air vent exquisitely camouflaged in silk so as to exactly resemble the three scars. Three other large tunnels converge into this, the central one running into the heart of the trunk; the other two, to the right and left, just underneath the bark. The central tunnel has an upward tendency for a short distance, so as to give immunity against flooding; then, it travels horizontally to the centre of the tree and ends abruptly.
Again this is an instance of perfect camouflage; if the gallery floor is carefully examined a trap door will be discovered near the end. This trap door is circular and of hard silk, so constructed as to appear exactly like the tunnel walls in colour and texture. If this lid, which is slightly larger than the bore, is raised–a difficult thing from the outside–a vertical tunnel fourteen to eighteen inches deep, will be disclosed bearing downwards. At the very bottom of this the pupa will be found in an upright position with the terminal segment of the case supported on the discarded larval skin. The object of this lid is undoubtedly to keep out predatory intrusion to the chrysalid dormitory.
As the chrysalid approaches maturity it takes on darker tones of colour, the dark marking of the coming moth becoming apparent through the case months prior to its emergence. Instances are known where the pupa remains colourless almost, and the green wings of the imago appear suddenly through the case weeks before the final metamorphosis.
When the final change is imminent the pupa works upwards, lifts the lid, which responds to the slightest pressure inwardly, and gains access to the air, emerging all but the last three segments, which remain in the tunnel. Presently the thoracic shield bursts, the perfect moth wriggles free, rests upon the tree till the wings are sufficiently hardened for flight—then it flashes off into the unknown to its mating and destiny!
Winter games for the fair sex.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
The second annual hockey match played recently between the girls of the Pensions Department (Wellington) and the girls of the Railway Offices (Wellington) resulted in a win for “Pensions” by 2 goals to 1. The illustrations shew:-Top: The “Pensions” team. Centre: “Pensions” on the attack. Below: The “Railway” team.
Conducted bySheila G. Marshall
Janet uncurled her long legs, rose from the window seat with a yamn, and stood for a moment in the halflight looking out into the street–meditating. She was infinitely bored with life, and had reached that stage when she could no longer deceive herself into thinking that she was even moderately happy.
“I am just another of the ‘types’ one is always reading about in modern novels and plays,” she thought moodily. “Exactly the same inevitable story; but if I see Desmond much more I will kill him or do something equally melodramatic!”
Outside, dusk was falling rapidly, lights began to shine across the street, men and women hurried past to their homes, the shrill cry of a paper boy, and somewhere the strident music of a gramophone! How she hated it all!
“Actually, when I went to college, I thought that life was going to be a wonderful adventure.” thought Janet, “and now, here I am in the deepest rut of all. Respectable marriage, in a jolly little flat; quite enough money; and, above all, Desmond—serious, pre-occupied — Desmond Gill, partner in the firm of Hutchison, Crawford and Gill!” Janet made a comic little face, shut her book with a sigh, and hurried out into the little kitchen to start preparations for tea–he would be back from the office in a few minutes, and she had been so engrossed in introspection that she had forgotten that whatever happened Desmond expected to be fed punctually.
As she chopped tomatoes for a salad, and made piles of delicately browned toast (he was very particular about the colour), Janet's mind flew back to their brief and quite unexpected love affair. She had been in his office quite six months before he had even noticed her. Secretly she had admired the “‘boss”—that tall, slightly bent figure, grave eyes, and occasional vivid smile—admired his concentration, his complete absorption in his work, and likewise his utter indifference to the fact that his secretary was an amazingly pretty girl.
She began to lay the table, in the pretty little room; lit the fire, and curled herself up before it on the floor, her mind still back in the past. “Now I feel like an Eastern slave,” she thought angrily, “waiting for the return of my lord and master, ready to entertain him after his hard day. Heavens, it is positively primitive!”
Desmond Gill, three years ago, had suddenly discovered that his secretary was an extremely clever, thoughtful and unusual girl; also, let us add, that he noticed
Such a life seemed to Janet—an eager, vivid girl, emotional, vital and alert to all impressions—an utter tragedy and failure.
With characteristic speed and efficiency Desmond Gill had decided that he would marry, because his people considered it a duty to themselves and the community, and because he had secret hopes of the firm of Hutchinson, Crawford and Gill being carried on by a young Desmond, who inherited all his father's genius and commonsense.
He had married his secretary, Janet, because in the first place she was the most convenient object at hand; secondly, she possessed a delightful voice and slender hands; and thirdly, because she was quiet, somewhat reserved, and seemingly docile. The man of iron had congratulated himself upon his choice.
In truth, Desmond had never forgiven his wife for presenting him with a frail little girl baby, which had mercifully died in a month. Part of Janet—the laughter-loving, joyous part–had died with it, and Desmond never thought for a moment of the tragedy it had been to her–the mother. He had merely been cruelly disappointed that it had not been a lusty boy, to carry on the illustrious name of Gill.
Then she heard the latch key turn in the lock downstairs. “I'll tell him tonight that I'm going away for a holiday.”
With this brave and rebellious intention Janet called from the kitchen, “That you Desmond? How long will you be, dear? Tea's ready now.”
“Exactly three minutes!” was the answer, in his usually quiet, clear tones.
“Oh!” moaned Janet. “Why, why, why does he know everything exactly?”
At the meal she gave no sign of the tumult raging within her, and looking at him as he thoughtfully sipped the coffee she had made him and smoked his one after-dinner cigarette, she knew in her heart of hearts that she loved the man desperately.
Desmond Gill drew up his comfortable armchair before the fire, took out a pile of law reports, adjusted his glasses, and became instantly absorbed, dimly aware of the sound of washing-up in the little kitchen, but giving no more thought to it
On The North Island Main Trunk Line.Members of the District Traffic Manager's staff, Ohakune Junction, 1930.
Janet delayed as long as possible over the washing-up. How on earth was she going to be so amazingly audacious as to inform him that she wanted to go away for a holyday? What would he say? She tried to imagine a curt refusal, an incredulous stare; anyhow, opposition of some sort. Picking up a book from where it lay face downwards on the kitchen table, and a vivid, modern jumper she had been knitting, she walked through to the sitting room, switched on the wireless, and perched herself airily on the arm of a chair.
For a minute or two she tried to read “Nigger Heaven” (which, by the way, Desmond thought she shouldn't), then—“Desmond, dear—” (pause)—
“Well, what is it?” from the depths of the chair.
“Desmond, I just want to tell you that I intend to go away for a holiday for a week or two. I'm feeling a bit tired, and Moira Drummond, an old school chum, wrote yesterday to ask me down to her cottage on the coast.” (She was really managing splendidly.) “Do you think you could bach for a little while, dear?”
It was done! She felt as though she had delivered a long oration in Parliament.
He merely answered: “Of course, Janet. It will be a change. You must go tomorrow. Naturally I am capable of looking after myself for a time!”
She had expected opposition, refusal, a long, tedious wrangle, but not this passive acquiescene, this awful indifference.
Janet felt the tears rushing to her eyes. she daren't speak, but slipped unnoticed from the room to pack her clothes and weep miserably, because she was going.
It had been so difficult for Janet to leave him the next morning, far more so than she had imagined, although he had been perfectly serene and allowed nothing to upset the daily routine of bath, breakfast, the newspaper, and finally the putting on of his big overcoat. “He doesn't even think that I am going away for two weeks, let alone for always,” she thought, miserably, as she offered her cheek for his customary kiss.
“Desmond, look after yourself, dear; and, if you're not too busy, do drop me a line?”
“Naturally,” answered Desmond. “By the way,” very casually, “your address?”
She gave it hurriedly.
“I'll expect you by the 9.15 to-day fortnight; there will be a taxi for you at the station.” said Desmond. “Good-bye, Janet.”
Janet looked sadly from the window of her carriage, as the train slipped through the green fields–away, away from the dusty greyness of the town—from the flat with its little kitchen, from Desmond, her blind and infinitely dear, selfish husband–towards the sea, and the winds and freedom.
Fortunately she had enough money to last her for two or three months, and she vaguely contemplated going to London, taking a bachelor room once again, and earning her living by typing. The prospect was not exactly enthralling to Janet. “But it means liberty,” she thought, “to do and say and think and feel as I like, to express myself, and not be a mere weak reflection of Desmond! I must live my own life and not his.”
Soon they approached the sea—a glimpse of sand hills, low flax bushes, a sharp, keen smell—freshness everywhere. The train drew up at a little station, and there stood Moira, the journalist, gay, smiling, and oh, so obviously independent and so frankly alive and eager.
“Hallo, old girl! It was jolly of Des. to part with you for two weeks. Imagine his sacrifice.”
The laughing words hurt Janet terribly. “If she only knew he doesn't care at all, and that I've left for ever.”
Ten days later found the two girls sitting one evening before a cheerful log fire reading the paper and discussing the
Glancing over the headlines of the paper she suddenly noticed something there, standing out horribly clear. Her heart stopped beating, and the words swam before her eyes. “Moira!” she cried, pointing to the paragraph. “Read it for me—it's a mistake!”
Moira took the paper, looked for a moment, then read:
“Unexpected Failure of Prosperous Lawyer,” and a short description of how the firm of Hutchinson, Crawford and Gill had become involved in financial speculations which had turned out disastrously–and the result, according to the paper, was utter ruin.
Janet never forgot her train journey that night. She was half-distracted with worry about him; pictured the wreck of all his hopes. His life had suddenly been cut off, because to him his business was the very breath of life itself.
Arriving at the station late at night, she took a taxi, reached the flat, and found it in complete darkness. What on earth had happened? Where was he? Gone were all her dreams of freedom. She wanted to be with him now, in his desolation. Fumbling for her latch key she let herself in, slipped up the dark stairs, and softly opened the door, hoping against hope that he would be there.
He was fast asleep in his arm-chair, looking terribly worn and haggard. He seemed to her to be older by years than when she had left him–confident, efficient, speaking of success.
Crossing softly, Janet knelt by the chair, hardly daring to move. She knew that she could never leave him now. He was stricken, growing old, tired, and he needed her now as he had never done in his success and prosperity. She almost thanked God for the crash.
Then he stirred, opened his eyes, and looked up at her. At first vaguely, as though he hardly knew who she was.
“Desmond, dear, I am so awfully sorry for you.”
“What did you come back for?” he asked wearily. “I didn't write because I couldn't bear to tell you–too much of a coward. To-morrow I am going away from it all. I've made a mess of your life, Janet, but I think I can leave enough to provide for you. I shall probably go to Australia.”
“Desmond! How can you think of leaving me like that. Don't you want me at all? I don't want your money, dearest, but I'll come with you, wherever it is.”
The words sounded to Janet crude, melodramatic, but to Desmond they were like raindrops on a barren desert.
“Janet! You can't mean you want to stick to me, dear? I am no good, now—too old—nothing matters.”
Janet sank at his feet. “No,” she whispered, “nothing matters, except you and I. I am so glad to hear you say that.”
Gaily Decorated.
The locomotive which hauled the Marton Junction Railway Employees’ picnic train, 1930.
Icy southerlies demand attention from the office girl who has to sally forth to the “scene of action,” wet or fine; for her the weather becomes not merely a useful topic of conversation, but something to be studied carefully. She nearly always has a snug little beret to pull on-comfortable, warm and “chic”–heavy serviceable shoes (perhaps even gum boots), and woollen stockings. But all too often she spoils the effect of her “rough weather” outfit by wearing a good velour coat with fur collar and cuffs—decidedly unfitted for the rain. It has been said that the English girl (and why not her N.Z. sister) looks most attractive
The coat in the illustration is made from New Zealand tweed, and the whole thing won't cost you £2. Notice the large, useful collar, and the simple, severe cut, with inverted pleat and belt. Patterns are to be had, similar to this, everywhere.
They are being worn such a great deal and several people are wondering how on earth they are going to wash them without ruining the sheen, spoiling the pattern, or making the material “blotchy.” Make a good lather with any pure soap, and add a dessertspoonful of ammonia. Do not use water too hot or rub soap on the material. Wash as quickly as possible, then rinse in two lots of warm water, with a little ammonia added to each. Do not wring or squeeze, but hang in the open to drip. When dry it will be found to look like new.
A Veteran Railwayman Passes
Originator of the Ballast Plough.
The death, at the advanced age of 87 years, took place at Christchurch on 7th July last of Mr. John Timms, formerly Inspector of Permanent Way. During his employment in the Railway Department the deceased was known as John Smith, but on his retirement it was ascertained that his name should properly have been John Timms. He was a very old servant of the Department, having been employed on the first railway in New Zealand. He had worked as a platelayer before coming to the colony, and after his arrival obtained employment with the contractors (Messrs. Holmes and Richardson) constructing the Lyttelton to Christchurch Railway. In September, 1867, he was appointed ganger at Christchurch in the service of the Canterbury Provincial Railways. He retained this position till September, 1871, when he became Inspector on construction work, in which capacity he was temporarily transferred to the Public Works Department. He was engaged in supervision of platelaying contracts during the construction of the Main South Line in Canterbury and North Otago. He returned to the Working Railways Department
”‘She whole air whitens with a boundless tide of silver radiance.’ —Thomson.
(Rly. Publicity Photo.)
A moonlight scene, Oriental Bay, Wellington, New Zealand.
Although handicapped by a lack of schooling, he was a very chrewd and capable man, and an expert platelayer. Even in the days of light rails and scanty ballast, the section of line under his supervision was noted for its smooth-running tracle He was a natural leader of men, and by his quiet and efficient method gained the confidence and esteem both of his superior officers and of the men who worked under him. Some of his sage remarks have been quoted as almost proverbial.
The late Mr. Timms was the originator of the ballast plough (now in general use on railways). Had he protected and exploited his idea, he might have acquired considerable wealth. Though he took no steps in that direction, the Railway Department recognised his invention and granted him a special allowance as royalty for the use of the plough in New Zealand.