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.
“Surely unutterable majesty Monarch of gorges is thine attribute!”—Douglas B. W. Sladen.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
Looking down the world-famed Otira Gorge, Southern Alps, South Island, New Zealand.
The New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Railways
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. 5.
Wellington,
New Zealand
To the world at large New Zealand is known—if known at all—as the place par excellence for the production of butter and cheese, sheep and wool. These products, steadily pouring through the principal British and certain foreign marts, command attention to the country of their origin amongst a large body of buyers.
But the tourist attractions of the country are not exportable even in sample quantities. They are dependent for their effective appeal to overseas people upon publicity and salesmanship of a more subtle kind than need be applied to goods which potential customers can see, handle, or compare, upon a butcher's hook or a grocer's counter.
The comparative isolation of New Zealand is a handicap for tourist-attracting purposes until the idea can be driven home to the minds of the steadily increasing array of health and pleasure seeking travellers that this country is worthy of their special attention. Once reached, it has within its own shores, a unique and all-embracing range of the best of everything that elsewhere can be found only in scattered sections.
Leaving out of account the usual showplaces of New Zealand—the big drawing-cards like the deep-sea fishing grounds of the Northern peninsula, the kauri and other indigenous forests, the wonder valley of the Wairakei geysers, the grand Chateau set in the great North Island Playground of National Park, Rotorua, the Maori treasure-trove of thermal activity, Waitomo of the glowing caves, the alpine delights of Mt. Cook-guarded Hermitage or the Fox and Franz Josef glaciers, and the wondrous beauty of the Southern Lakes—there are literally hundreds of other charming, though little-known places that openly invite the attention of those seeking the best in tourist travel.
Among these are such localities as Tarawera, on the Taupo-Napier road, where the warm, healing pool that often cures when all else fails, lies above an immense river-eroded amphitheatre of unexampled loveliness—nooks and corners spread all about that would make fortunes for their owners in countries less richly endowed with wealth of scenic grandeur.
To make New Zealand better known, to attract an increasing stream of visitors, must prove profitable to this country as well as to the visitors.
But any appeal sent overseas for the purpose of augmenting this stream can only be effective if concentrated upon definite patches of territory. In view of the vast surface to be sown if the whole world is to be cultivated, a general broadcast from this little country must necessarily be too thin to be effective. Having chosen the territory upon which a concentrated stream of publicity and selling force is to be showered, the whole-hearted backing in New Zealand of those who will most directly benefit from tourist traffic—transport undertakings and hotels—becomes essential, in order to provide that personal interest in the success of the drive which alone can make expenditure and effort upon this objective produce the best results. Not many of our hotels can yet supply the palatial comfort found along the way of the world's main travel routes, but the fact that some already can, while others are steadily improving their general accommodation, equipment and service, gives assurance that when the big tourist movement develops towards New Zealand, the facilities for handling it will be satisfactory and adequate.
Booklet On New Zealand Railways.
The Railways Department issued recently to all schools in the Dominion a limited number of copies of an attractive booklet dealing with New Zealand railways. The booklet is suitable for children in Standards III. and IV., but the Department suggests that in no case should more than one copy be issued to any one family, and that the booklets should be equally divided between Standards III. and IV. One copy, at least, should be retained for the school library, and it is suggested that the others could be used as rewards for good work in different subjects.
Preference To The Railway.
The following is the text of an interesting circular letter recently issued by Messrs. Blyths, Ltd., Napier, to business firms in connection with the carriage of goods from other districts to Napier:—
A number of our Wellington suppliers have for some time been sending goods per motor, and in quite a percentage of cases the freight charged to us for this reason has been greater than if the packages concerned had been railed.
“Where you are paying freight, you may, of course, use any means of transit preferred by you, but where freight is to be paid by us, it is our wish that, in every case where railage is as cheap as motor transport, preference to be given to the rail—it of course goes without saying that this also applies where the railage is less.
We feel that a stand should be taken in this matter, as it is possible, eventually to pay too high a price for the temporary convenience offered by motor transport, it being our desire to give preference to rail as against motor wherever possible.
The Hon. G. S. Smith, Minister of Labour and Chairman of Committees in the House of Representatives, Mr. Smith was for twenty years a member of the Railway Service in New Zealand, and for some time served on the Executive Council of the Amalgamated Society of Railway Servants.
Old Ironsides”, the first Baldwin locomotive and the first successful American built locomotive in Pennsylvania, made its appearance in 1832. It had four wheels, one pair of which were drivers. These were placed forward of the firebox. It had two horizontal cylinders fixed on the outside of the smoke-box and connected with cranks on the driving axle. The cylinders measured 9½ × 18 inches, the driving wheels were 54 inches and the front wheels 45 inches in diameter. It developed a speed of 30 miles per hour and was built for the Philadelphia, Germantown and Norristown road.
(From “The Development of the Locomotive” published by The Central Steel Company, Massillon, Ohio, U.S.A.).
“Safety First”
“Safety first” is one of the best known slogans in the Railway world. Although the need is recognised for taking precautions and eliminating, as far as is consistent with practical working conditions, all elements of undue risk, yet the accident rate appears to be on the increase. The figures as shewn in the Railway Statements covering the payments made to workers from 1926 to 1930 shew that there has been a steady increase of payments made for accidents during that period. The actual figures for the years are: 1927, £34,809; 1928, £41,198; 1929, £44,344; 1930, £47,890. Although during the period under review amendments to the Workers’ Compensation for Accident Act have given the employee some increased benefits, the facts indicate that the accident figures shew an upward tendency. This suggests that there is room for action to reduce this growing loss.
The loss on account of workers being laid aside owing to accident is twofold. The particular industry that the worker is engaged in bears a loss that is uneconomic, and the worker sustains a serious loss because his income is decreased at the particular period when his expenditure is probably increased. I desire, therefore, to urge upon all employees the importance of a strict adherence to “safety first” principles in order that the number of accidents may be reduced to a minimum.
The loss through accidents to workers is not peculiar to New Zealand. Railways throughout the world have, at various times, launched vigorous campaigns to impress upon their employees the advantages accruing to all concerned by reducing the number of accidents. American railway managers, armed with statistics, have in recent years, with the whole-hearted co-operation of their workpeople, materially reduced the accident rate in their industry. I believe that the New Zealand workers compare favourably with their American cousins in their capacity to observe “safety first” principles and that what has been achieved in America should be possible here. My earnest desire is to obtain the active interest of all ranks in bringing about this result.
General Manager.
R100's Even Keel—Arctic Relics of a Predecessor—Bradman's March—Pasteur Virus for Rats—Drought and Fire—Sydney Harbour Bridge.
A crossing of the Atlantic, and not a drop spilled from a tumbler of water placed on the airship's table—such is the proud performance of R100, which has just crossed the stormy ocean both ways. Neither speed nor weight-lifting is yet all that is aimed at, but a world that has seen the motor car develop from the limping vehicle of the ‘nineties, and which has seen the aeroplane and wireless grow in the same time from nothing to something, will not pass a too hasty verdict on the airship as a commercial proposition. The Canadian voyage of R100 will be followed by an Indian voyage by R101. When R100 and the steamer Tahiti started out, anyone at all could have guessed which was the more insurable proposition—and yet, you can never tell. The Tahiti save was largely a radio triumph. One of the great facts about modern inventions is that they interlock, as is evidenced by Kingsford Smith's tribute to the navigational aid of the radio beacon.
There is something pathetic in relics—human relics. Pathetic, and perhaps inspiring. The path of Empire, as Kipling has said, has been blazed with the bones of the pioneers. But the temperate and tropical world that man frequents tends to consume its relics; the sea does not always give up its dead, and even the bones of those that perished in the desert do not long survive the decay of nature. Not so, however, the bodies of men lost in Polar wastes. Discovery in Franz Josef Land of the well preserved bodies of the Swedish engineer-aeronaut, S. A. Andree and his balloon party, bridges the gap of thirty-odd years separating the feeble aerial travel of their day from the aviation efficiency that has enabled Richard Byrd to fly over both Poles. Andree dreamed his dream of North Pole air-conquest some thirty years too soon. The inevitable happened, and he fell asleep. If he could wake and return, what a Rip Van Winkle story to unfold!
Andree's expedition, starting in 1897, was one of the last memorable exploratory efforts of the nineteenth century. Its historical importance lies in that it marks the transfer of exploring thought from the dog sledge to the air. Already men were seeking to do in days or hours what Pole-conquerors like Peary, Amundsen, and Scott did in weary weeks and months. To say that is not to say that Polar exploration by means of a multi-engined aeroplane or an R100 is completely satisfying. At least one Polar explorer, Wilkins,
A search up and down England for bowlers to stop Bradman's march failed. On his season's showing there is an inevitability about this scoring machine that marks the arrival of something different from what has gone before. Other batsmen have been brilliant or consistent, or even both, but through the English Tests Bradman's big scores ran on like the brook. Of course, he may not have another such season; he may not retain his form; but that he should have done so to the extent he has done—in a new country and on strange wickets—is sufficiently amazing. A batsman is not like a Rugby footballer. Individual action by a Rugby player is generally a matter of seconds; mostly, he is a cog in a fifteen-men machine. But a batsman stands alone for hours (if he can) with everyone against him. His is a test of nerve as well as skill. With the eyes not only of the crowd but of an Empire on him, Bradman has turned defence into attack. No fiercer light ever beat upon a cricketer. Who will deny that Bradman, Grimmett and company deserved to bring “the ashes” home?
War between man and the rat dates back to the beginning of time. The economic cost of the rat, by way of the destruction of food supplies and materials, is incalculable. To the economic damage must be added the menace to health, for the rat carries either pestilence or the pestilential flea, and is both directly and indirectly a menace to public hygiene. And yet human science has hitherto been incapable of reducing the prolific rat tribe to permanently small proportions; even within limited areas only a moderate measure of control has been secured, at no small cost. Now enters the Pasteur Institute with a counter pestilence, “the bacillus of rat typhoid,” with which to “infect whole colonies, which die in a few days.” Something similar seems to happen occasionally among rabbits, but no one seems to hold the secret. A country without rats and rabbits would be a country transformed. The saving should be equal to New Zealand's national debt.
By the aid of many wonderful modern inventions (the moving picture) New Zealand theatre audiences were already seeing in August, on the screen, the forerunners of those United States forest fires which at that time were still raging in drought-stricken parts of the American Continent. August cablegrams completed the tale that was commenced on the moving picture “gazettes,” and a very disquieting tale of destruction it is. Owing to the slump that began (or became visible) in October last, 1930 is not a good year for a “visitation” of nature; and it is clear that the prolonged drought and consequent fires, by hitting the American farmer when he was at his worst, have intensified President Hoover's unemployment relief problem. Last year it was floods, this year fires, next year—what? And to think that the Republican campaign cry in 1928 was “Hoover and Prosperity!” Prosperity based on seasonal developments is hardly predictable. Be it hoped that the drought will not migrate to the Southern Hemisphere.
The Australian is a great city-builder. From his narrow lodgment on the coast he has not conquered the interior (it is indeed announced that the Northern Territory and Central Australia carry less population than last century), but he has created wonderful cities in Melbourne and Sydney, the “playground of the Pacific.” In his urban aggregation he sees against
The end of the problem of falling wheat prices, and holding of wheat, is not yet. Winnipeg cabled on 14th August that the total carry-over of Canadian wheat for the season is 128 million bushels; so that, assuming a 400 million crop in Canada, total supply is figured at 528 million bushels, against 428 million last year. The following pertinent observation
Installed At Auckland's New Station Yard.
(Photo., courtesy The “Sun” Newspapers Ltd.)
Interior of the new signalling cabin at Auckland, shewing interlocking machine of 128 levers and the operating diagram.
It may be hoped, though without certainty, that wool may maintain something like its present level, but with heavy harvests anticipated in Canada, Argentina, and India, and the large carry-overs in Canada and the United States, it is difficult to see how wheat prices can fail to drop further. Though the Australian wheat crop may be larger than last year's, its effect on the aggregate value of exports is likely to be small.
Values in the export market, he added, have fallen and are falling steadily…. United States foreign trade dropped in July to the lowest figure for five years.
The Night Journey.
)Ken Alexander .
Dear reader, history is steeped in steam. Steam has always been man's bountiful benefactor. Even before Master George Stephenson's time steam was recognised as a perfect prophylactic for pork and a consolation for corns, but with the expansion of the high-pressure hypothesis the railway engine has proved itself to be the mighty plough of progress, breaking up the virgin lands of the back o’ beyond, and weaving in its wake a pattern of prosperity and prestige. The railway engine, dear reader, has proved a money-spider weaving its web athwart our lusty lands. But hark you: where would you be to-day, thankful reader, but for the staunchness of steam? The hinterlands would be nought but a rooting arena for the wild pig, and you and I and our like would cling precariously to the shores like shellfish. Your eightcylinder “flitmobile” would be as useful to you as a pair of running pants in an aeroplane, for there would be no roads to rack with roasted rubber; you would be all fussed up and no place to go. It is no idle boast to affirm that all roads run from the railroad. The bounties conferred by steam cannot be computed in cash alone, any more than contentment can be capitalised.
After all, dear reader, money is not the sole factor in the best business; cash certainly is not a curse, but a custom; money is a necessity, but the necessity is a curse and a blight on the fair flower of freedom. True, money is a mere medium of exchange, but it is not the happy medium. Banks bulge with bullion, the wheels of industry revolve on the milled circumference of coin, and “profit” is the prophet of prosperity; but money is merely a morbific morbidity of man, and not a normality of Nature. Had money been earmarked as one of the original sins it doubtless would fructify in the field and “hoot” horticulture would prove the primary pastime of Cambria. But the history of humanity favours the finding that money is revolutionary rather than evolutionary; that cash is a rash on the hide of humanity, and finance a fever productive of total blindness to the gifts of Nature.
You protest, dear reader—and rightly so—that, things being as they are, you are obliged to pursue the delusive “deener” and the quondam “quid,” in order to keep the wolf off the visiting list. True, true, poor reader, but if things were as they are not, the scales would fall from your eyes and the weights from your mind; you would note with gladness that grass is green. You would wot the wonder of the earth's awakening when, as the sun rises flushed and sweet over the edge of the earth, all things hold their breath at the glory of her coming.
“Steam has been the greatest benefactor of man.”
But, alas, men must talk and women must sweep; the wild bee must drone along his scented way unheeded, and the tui trill to stone and stick. But this, outraged reader, is heresy. “If.” you protest, “we linger to laud the tulip or the tinted tip of a lagging cloud at sunset; if we fall by the wayside to commune with the cricket; if, in short, we neglect our L.S.D. we will be O.U.T.”
'Tis passing true, dear reader, but only because our antecedents made it so; hence I would that the first felon who lightly flipped the first token of travail over a counter had been mopped up and wrung out before he could utter his coin.
“Men Must Talk and Women Must Sweep”
After all, dear reader, money is merely a fashion; certainly it has so far survived the rages; but the Moa was a fashion once, and now he is no moa. No doubt he started modestly, but ambition got him down. He grew moa and moa and moa until he outgrew his strength. Now he is only a fossil of a fowl—mere material for the moa-constructor at the museum. But, in his day, he was the whole air force, until he sacrificed aviation for avoirdupois, and was no longer a wing commander because he had no wings to command. The “moa-pork” is no relation to the Moa, who was a strict greengroper. Moas were sometimes tamed and allowed to roam about the garden; these were called lawn-moas, but were never borrowed on account of the difficulty of lifting them over the fence. The ancient Maori sometimes used the Moa as a means of transport. They were then called “moators” and their riders “moa-torists.” The Moa never washed its neck because this meant practically taking a bath, for the Moa was one of those birds with the deuce of a neck.
Catching The Goods
The Moa was the greatest egotist that ever feathered its chest. The Maori used its eggs for dropping on one another in times of stress and strain hence arose the military term “shelling the enemy.” This, dear reader, is all I know about moas, but is sufficient to prove that when a big noise like the Moa fades out in Nature's “rowdio” and is only valued because it is no moa, it is possible for anything to happen. We may be happier than we are if Moas were apt to amble among the radishes, and it is possible we would be more content if money followed the Moa.
Unique Record of Railway Service
A further interesting case of father and son being on the retired list of the New Zealand Railways Department has just come to our notice. It is that of Mr. Chas. Cleverley and his son. Mr. Cleverley Senior joined the Service in the early days and had charge of the first official train to run between Dunedin and Oamaru. He retired 25 years ago from the position of Goods Foreman at Oamaru, where he is still living. His son, Mr. H. Cleverley, after 38 years’ service recently retired at Greymouth, where he was Inspector of Permanent Way. The family tradition of service is being carried on by Mr. F. C. Cleverley, son of Mr. H. Cleverley. He is Stationmaster at Kohatu, Nelson, and has 17 years’ service to his credit.
F. G. J. Temm
One of the most interesting branches of railway operation to-day is that devoted to the work of what is technically called “Train Control.” In the following article is a brief description of the working of the system, recently introduced on the New Zealand Railways.
The idea involved in the principle of Train Control is the achievement of a greater measure of economy in the operation of trains. In the Train Control organisation the central figure is the Train Control Officer in the Train Running Office at headquarters. This officer, who is in direct and continuous contact with all stations working under Train Control (and controls the movements of all trains in his area), is responsible for the correct and efficient functioning of the system. By means of a special selective telephone apparatus he is able, instantly, to call up any one or more of the stations and communicate instructions or information respecting the movement of any particular train.
On the New Zealand Railways, Train Control is in operation (in the North Island) between Auckland and Frankton Junction, and between Wellington and Marton, and (in the South Island) on the main line between Christchurch and Oamaru, and on the Christchurch-Culverden section.
The operation of the system may be described as follows:—The Train Controller has before him a train diagram on which is represented in ink drawing the ordinary service (express, passenger, mixed, and goods trains) that have to adhere to some particular schedule. On this diagram he notes in pencil, the movements of all trains as he receives arrival and departure times by telephone from the various stations, and alters crossings, by crossing order when rule demands, but usually by verbal direction. He also varies the work of trains as he may consider necessary to secure the best results in the matter of punctuality.
The completed diagram thus becomes a visual record of the day's working, and from it can be detected delays arising out of faulty scheduling.
The Chief Train Running Officer examines each morning the previous day's diagram, and, if necessary, enquires further into any matter he may consider requires attention. Train delays are dealt with over the telephone, and the time required at stations for shunting purposes or other station duties, is usually discussed with the Controller, who may fix a limit for such work as he thinks advisable. Particulars of delays are noted on the diagram. Any items that cannot be satisfactorily dealt with at once are, of course, brought under the notice of the Chief Train Running Officer to be dealt with as circumstances determine.
Another interesting aspect of the work of the Controller concerns the expeditious movement of traffic on the lines. He has particulars supplied (in the first instance by the tonnage officer) of all tonnage offering each day for transport. He verifies the information in detail with stations as the day progresses, and it is his duty to see that this tonnage receives the best possible despatch.
Under the operation of this system a closer supervision of the running of all trains in the control area, and of the work performed by these trains, is made possible. In consequence of such supervision better time-keeping is achieved, and the fact of a Controller being in a position to question the time taken for any particular shunt is a large factor in having this work carried out with a minimum of delay. In order to expedite the running of a train, the Controller directs, if necessary, that certain shunting work at a station be omitted. He may at times order the load of a heavy train running late to be reduced to enable it to maintain better running, and also, if possible, to recover some of the time which may have been lost.
The fact that all sub-terminal stations can advise Controllers, at a moment's notice, of any accumulation of tonnage, is an important factor in ensuring a better turn-over of wagons, and in lessening the possible delay in the delivering of goods at the destination station.
A Special Train In The Auckland Province.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
Arrival at Otahuhu of the first passenger train to run over the Auckland-Westfield deviation.
When “tight” crossings have to be effected, the Controllers have the position explained to the enginedrivers, who are thus enabled to co-operate in facilitating the work. In a congested area, as exists in many parts of our railway system, the Controller is of considerable help to stations in giving them the latest and most reliable information as to the whereabouts of trains. This information enables trains to be worked through with a minimum of delay.
Another and important advantage is that trainmen are encouraged to speak to the Train Controller direct on matters affecting the running of their trains. This tends to promote a greater degree of cooperation between headquarters and the staff along the road, and brings about that spirit of “team work” so necessary in the expeditious working of a railway system.
The Supreme Court of the United States has defined negligence as “the omission to do something that a reasonable man would do, or doing something a prudent and reasonable man would not do.”
Current Comments
The total expenditure of the New Zealand Railways upon signalling equipment up to 1930 has been £2,579,060. A large proportion of this has, of course, been incurred only in recent years, as it is during this time that the most rapid progress has been made in developing inventions for securing expedition in transport with safety in operation. From the public safety point of view there can be only one answer to the question “has this expenditure been worth while?”
In the four years from 1907 to 1910 inclusive—when the railway passenger business was far lighter than it is at present—there were 27 fatal accidents to train passengers. During the last four years, from 1927 to 1930 inclusive, there has not been a single fatal accident to passengers due to train accidents, although during this period over 100 million passenger journeys have been made on the State Railways of New Zealand.
Modern signalling practice, including interlocking systems introduced at principal yards and junctions, has had much to do with this improvement.
In the provision of protection devices at road crossings the Department has also spent heavily in recent years. Up to 1910 the total expenditure upon road protection at level crossings amounted to only £11,761. whilst up to 1930 the amount was £135,816.
* * *
In May, 1925, the Railway Department introduced a system providing for the through booking of passengers, parcels and goods by rail and sea between stations in the North and South Islands. Prior to that time passengers travelling from one Island to the other had perforce to suffer the inconvenience of obtaining their boat tickets at one or other of the towns or ports where offices of the steam ship companies were located. Similarly, the existing facilities for the through transportation of parcels and goods traffic were not sufficiently attractive to encourage the growth of any great volume of traffic between the two Islands.
Under the new system these disabilities have disappeared. Passengers from one Island to the other are now able to obtain steamer tickets and berth reservations together with their railway tickets at the station from which they commence their journey. Similarly, a consignor at a station in the North or South Island, by simply filling in the usual consignment note, is assured of the prompt conveyance of his goods to any station in either Island.
Some idea of the extent to which the railway through booking system has established itself in the favour of the public is gained from the fact that since its inception in 1925, 31,153 passengers and 50,935 tons of goods have been dealt with.
* * *
“Would any one of the present generation recognise the Petone railway station (Wellington) from the following description written a little over thirty years ago?” asks a writer in the Dominion. “The Petone railway station is prettily situated midst weeping willow and other trees, the entrance drive from the Hutt Road having a choice plantation of sycamore trees on each side. For several months in the year these are covered with rich blossoms, which in turn become graceful clusters of berries.”
The Station Agent
ByC. H. Pumphrey
, in the Baltimore and Ohio Magazine.)
The favourable position occupied by a stationmaster in relation to the development of railway business in his territory is being increasingly emphasised in overseas railway publications. The following interesting article, taken from the “Baltimore and Ohio Railways Magazine,” besides having a general application, contains some useful information bearing upon this subject, and is reprinted for the benefit of our readers.
To get business is the supreme object of the Traffic Department. For the railroad to prosper it must have traffic. People must travel upon it; shippers must send their freight over it. This is traffic, and the volume of traffic must be large enough to provide sufficient revenue to pay expenses and contribute some surplus.
It is the mission of the Traffic Department to secure this sufficient volume of business, and the local agent in the front line of direct contact with the public is a very important representative of the Traffic Department.
At points where traffic organisations are maintained, they assume the main responsibility for traffic solicitation. Out on the line solicitation largely depends upon the local agent, for the division freight agents and travelling freight agents covering extended territories can get around only at irregular intervals, whereas the local agent is on the ground all the time and is the direct representative of the Traffic Department.
Being a part of the community life, the local agent forms intimate relationships with the people in the community and is in the position of being on terms of real friendliness with the public he meets.
Patrons of the railroad judge its service by their contacts with its employees. The impression made by the local agent is an advertisement, good or bad. Whether his contact with the public is friendly and efficient, or arbitrary and inefficient, largely determines the standing of the railroad in the community and its success in securing traffic.
To an important degree the local agent, individually, is responsible for the establishment and maintenance of that cordial public goodwill which is so necessary for the successful and profitable operation of the railroad property.
This is the ideal situation at all points and particularly at competitive points. The railroad is like other industries. It produces something for sale—transportation. However, there is this difference, the price at which its product is sold, generally speaking, is the same as that of its competitors. So the question is asked—what is the inducement to purchase railroad transportation? The answer is that it gives full value in quality service—in supply of equipment, careful handling, dependable transit performance, terminal facilities, satisfactory deliveries, courtesy, fair treatment and safety.
The station agent, as the representative of the Traffic Department and the first point of contact with the buying public, is in a position of great responsibility, and it follows that he is an extremely important factor in selling transportation service.
Transportation salesmanship requires closer and more constant attention to-day than ever before. The dependable service being furnished by the railroad means that merchants instead of stocking up once, twice or four times a year, are now purchasing only as needed, with the result that orders are being placed more often and for smaller quantities. This means that more frequent contacts must be maintained with customers, and that the local agent, in his capacity as Traffic Department representative, should be more diligent than ever in the solicitation of freight and passengers.
The station agent is entrusted with the business of the railroad in his community, and its business is his business. He is the representative of all departments of the railroad, but of paramount importance to the railroad is his effectiveness in securing business. The railroad first has to have the business before it can haul it, so the agency job of greatest importance is the solicitation of business.
Advantage should be taken of every possible opportunity to cultivate the cordial goodwill of all shippers and receivers and travellers in the surrounding community. This best can be accomplished by personal contacts. Therefore, a part of each working day should be devoted to calling upon shippers and receivers and prospective travellers to offer our service in solving their transportation problems and in the movement of their freight business or in handling their travel requirements. Better understanding and relationships undoubtedly result from visits to and personal contacts with shippers and receivers.
The agent should keep in contact with shippers and receivers on the lines of our competitors so that they may see from our courteous and efficient attention that the railroad offers something attractive in the way of high-class service.
Industries served by private sidings from our rails should be looked after to ensure that their transportation requirements are fully met and that everything is so satisfactory that they will desire all their traffic to move in such a way as will be most profitable. Special attention should be devoted to those who seem disposed to use competing roads.
Station revenue should be watched, and the agent should strive constantly to increase it. A good practice to follow is to set a goal at the start of each month. To those agents who haven't done this in the past, it will be surprising the satisfaction that will come when that goal is attained or exceeded.
Revenue oftentimes can be increased through the watchfulness of the agent in securing long haul on traffic to and from his station.
By being on the alert at all times, whether on duty or off, the local agent can secure additional business.
As the direct field representative of the Traffic Department, station agents will derive personal satisfaction to the degree that they have succeeded in expanding the business at their individual stations.
With the wholehearted and enthusiastic co-operation of all station agents, the Traffic Department will be successful. No one person singly can do it, nor can we all do it except by working together.
Let “teamwork” be our watchword.
The Whaling Industry.
A scene on the broad deck of the Norwegian whale factory ship “Kosmos” that recently visited Wellington.
LondonLetter
A great pageant depicting the evolution of transport is to be the principal event in connection with the celebration, this month, of the centenary of the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. In his current Letter our Special London Correspondent gives some interesting particulars of the construction of this historic line, and reviews recent railway developments in Britain and on the Continent.
A red-letter year in railway history is 1930, marking as it does the centenary of two of the most famous of pioneer railways — the Liverpool and Manchester Railway and the Canterbury and Whitstable Railway. Next to the Stockton and Darlington system, these two ancient transportation undertakings rank as the most noteworthy of pioneer railway routes, and their opening one hundred years ago gave an impetus to railway construction the world over, while definitely demonstrating the superiority of steam traction over other existing forms of haulage.
By way of celebrating the centenary of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, an immense spectacular pageant is this month being staged in Liverpool, drawing railway folks from all parts. The Liverpool and Manchester Railway received a certain amount of notice in these pages last year on the occasion of the centenary of the Rainhill Locomotive Trials of 1829, but it may be well at the present juncture to tell briefly the story of this historic line upon which Stephenson's famous engine, the “Rocket,” made history.
It was while George Stephenson was enjoying fame in his connection with the Stockton and Darlington Railway that construction of the Liverpool and Manchester line was begun. The railway was planned as a double-track route between the two cities, to carry both passengers and merchandise. The first general meeting of the company was held on May 29th, 1826, and the same year construction work was put in hand, with George Stephenson as Chief Engineer of the undertaking. The cost of the complete work approached £820,000, and the task of the engineers proved most trying. Between Liverpool and Manchester the treacherous marshland of Chat Moss had to be crossed, and this crossing was only accomplished after the bog had been drained and an immense embankment formed of moss and vegetable deposits, upon which was placed a roadbed of broken stone to carry the rails of the new system. In all, the Liverpool and Manchester Railway was 32 miles in length, and the rails employed were of wrought iron two inches in breadth and one inch thick, weighing 35lb. per yard. The victory of Stephenson's “Rocket” has previously been described in these letters, and it was this famous machine that drew the first passenger train over the Liverpool and Manchester
Although not quite so important a system as the Liverpool and Manchester
Preparing for the Efficient and Safe Operation of Trains.
In the Relay Assembly Shop of the Railway Signalling Works, Wembley, England.
This summer there are operating for the benefit of the traveller through Europe some exceptionally fast and comfortable
Between London and Continental points the Southern and London and North Eastern Railways provide many alternative routes. By the Southern Railway there are operated
On The Paris-Berlin Trunk Route.
The Hohenzollern railway and road bridge across the Rhine, at Cologne, Germany.
The Harwich-Hook of Holland services of the London and North Eastern Railway, which have just been supplemented by the addition of three fine new twinscrew turbine steamers with equipment on the lines of that provided in crack ocean liners, are rightly popular among knowing travellers. There is a daily service in each direction by these railway steamers between Harwich and Hook of Holland, Antwerp, and Esjberg (Denmark), with a nightly service (summer only) in each direction between Harwich and Zeebrugge.
The “Hook of Holland Continental Express” leaves Liverpool Street Station, London, daily, at 8.15 p.m. It is composed of Pullman and restaurant cars, and across the water forward trains operate between Hook of Holland and every European centre of importance. At 10
Many visitors to Europe this year have made a special point to include the Belgian seaport of Antwerp in their itinerary. At Antwerp there is being held a great International Maritime and Colonial Exhibition, somewhat on the lines of the Wembley Exhibition in London. For the railwayman, the Antwerp Exhibition is full of interest, for transport in all its
“Man Power” On the Home Railways.
Track relaying with steel sleepers on the Great Western Railway, near Reading, England.
Twenty countries in all are taking part in the Antwerp Exhibition, and the British Pavilion dominates the whole of the Exhibition grounds. In the centre court there is an electric working model showing British shipping routes throughout the world, with real water for oceans. This map, with the geographical features in relief, is about half the size of a lawn tennis court, and took six months to construct, at a cost of about £2,000. There is a procession of scale model ships from the Roman galley to the modern battleship, and on the aerial side there are displayed scale model air-planes from the earliest times to the present date, each model being shown as in flight. Apart from the interest afforded by the Exhibition itself, Antwerp is one of the finest of Belgian cities, and its transportation services by rail, road and sea are second to none in Europe.
“A glorious harvest fill'd my eager sight …” —Robert Bloomfield.
(Govt. Publicity Photo.)
The golden harvest fields of Canterbury, that delight train travellers in the South Island of New Zealand.
Elsie K. Morton
“There's nothing much to see on the way up, so I've brought you some magasines,” said my friend. But he was mistaken. I never opened one of them, for there were pictures all the way!
“It's a long journey, and there is nothing much to see,” said a kind friend who had come down to the Dunedin railway station to see me off by the Christchurch express. “I've brought you these magazines so that you won't be too bored.”
I thanked him cordially. The prospect of a whole day in the train and not much to see brought the shadow of boredom very close. I settled down into my comfortable seat as the express moved out from the station, and thought how nice it would be to have four magazines to read, one after the other, on a clear run of 230 miles, nothing to look at, nobody to make conversation with—very different from that exciting North Island “Daylight Limited” run, where you are constantly stretching your neck to look down precipitous ravines or up at snow-clad mountains!
It was a still, sunny morning in late autumn. I took just a glance out the window before I settled down to the latest “thriller” in “Purple Patches.” We were passing close beside the shores of Dunedin harbour, so close that the silver, limpid ripples came washing up almost to the track; flocks of seagulls curved and wheeled, silver-winged in the morning sunshine. Over the quiet waters, on the other side of the harbour, the red roofs of the homes in MacAndrews Bay nestled beneath the sentinel pines on the steep hillside, the red and black shadowed deep in the silver sea. White veils of morning mist still curled about the shoulders of Mount Cargill, and on the heights of the Peninsula Hills across the harbour, but even as I looked, there came a lifting of the veil, and there, sharp and clear against the blue sky was the Monument, that splendid memorial figure, a soldier in full fighting kit, standing erect on an obelisk of stone, that mounts guard over the City of the South; one of the most beautifully set of all the war memorials of the Dominion.
My gaze travelled back from the distant hills to the seashore, to a little rowing boat swaying gently to the lift of the tide, and perched, along her sides a flock of little white gulls, with a big brown mollyhawk sitting solemnly in the bow.
I fingered the pages of “Purple Patches,” feeling ever so glad I had it there in my hand, ready to turn to it as soon as the charm of hills and sea should vanish. Just at present, there was quite a lot to see. The shore was richly wooded, the track was now mounting a steep grade, and we passed beneath groves of feathery kowhai and kotukutuku, with the cinnamon brown bark peeling off in long ribands, and purple konini berries gleaming in the foliage. Wild-flowering convolvulus trailed along the banks, wreathing masses of tall ferns in starry white, and like fire in the carpet green, ran crimson sprays of the St. John's wort, with little yellow star flowers and clusters of red and black berries. A noxious weed, in the South Island, this St. John's wort, but to the northerner, a plant of singular beauty and charm.
Round a spur of the steep hills we passed, and there, far beneath us lay Port Chalmers, with its grey church and clustering homes, just a wedge of a township tucked in between the hills and the sea. Lines of wharves stretched out into the harbour, and ships poked their noses into the wall of the cliff. Another tunnel—did I mention the tunnels?—and another glimpse of the port, a winding road, and three ancient hulks with funnels at crazy angles, sides red-rusted, old ocean-going with its solitary deep channel.
A Picturesque scene on the Dunedin-Christchurch run.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
The Invercargill-Christchurch Express near Port Chalmers, South Island.
We came to the quarrying country, to Teschemakers, with huge blocks of creamy stone piled beside the line, to Oamaru, on the seashore, with high-piled embankment of jagged rock, flocks of gulls in the green fields, and a white line of foam edging the bay. On into the golden plains of South Canterbury, dotted with sheep, with little homesteads where women and children stood waving at the doors. Over the wide milky-blue streams of the plains, over wide grey shingle beds, past Timaru, with its stretches of grey sand and shingle beach, blue lupins flowering in the sandhills, and line of romping breakers and swirl of foam not a stone's throw from the track, and in the west, the Canterbury Plains stretching far away to the foot of Mount Peel.
It was well after midday now, and the mellow light of a perfect Nor'-west Arch glowed like the rim of a golden shield lifted high above the mountains on the horizon. Past little Temuka we sped, through long groves of English trees, larch, ash, birch and elms, past Orari, with the golden sunset on its poplars and church steeple, and Mount
Speed boat contests on lake wakatipu.
The “Cutty Sark,” one of the fast boats in the recent speed boat contests on Lake Wakatipu (Queenstown, South Island), racing across the lake.
Doubtless the best was over now; there would be time for just one or two good stories before journey's end. But first of all, just a glance at this wonderful Rakaia, acres and acres of grey shingle bed, with thin blue streams wandering down between banks of lupin, oh, so innocently, so invitingly. We passed over the long, low wooden bridge, a mile and a quarter in length, longest in all New Zealand, over the main river channel, and I tried to imagine the Rakaia in flood, a grey, sullen, swirling torrent of death and destruction, surging down from alpine glaciers hidden deep in the heart of the mountains, over there across the Plains…‥ Oh, the mystery and beauty of that shining white wall, stretching hundreds of miles down into Westland, an impassable barrier, with but one road across in all those leagues of snow and ice, precipice, peak and glacier!
And now the train was passing through Dunsandel, Rolleston, Sockburn, Addington …. the journey was actually over! I rose with a start to gather up my luggage, and four magazines slipped to the floor. No doubt the guard would be most thankful for them after the boredom of that long, long journey from the South!
The recent retirement of Mr. L. Scott from the Railway Service calls to mind an incident which happened when he was Stationmaster at Ellesmere, in the Canterbury district. In the “New Zealand Times” of 27th August, 1906, appeared the following paragraph:—
“A wagtail's nest containing five eggs was found on a truck of coal at Ellesmere railway station. The nest had to be disturbed during unloading operations, and it was removed to another truck and surrounded with lumps of coal.”
This item was extracted by the then General Manager of the New Zealand Railways and sent to the Chief Traffic Manager, with the following comment:
“It takes two wagtails about five days to build a nest.
“It takes one wagtail at least five days to lay five eggs.
“How long was the truck of coal standing at Ellesmere waiting for the aforesaid wagtails to build the nest, etc.?
“Has the truck to which the nest was transferred been unloaded yet, or is it waiting for the eggs to be hatched out?
“What demurrage has been collected?
“Is it usual on the Canterbury Section to have wagons waiting for such long periods awaiting discharge?
“T. Ronayne, 28/8/1906.”
Mr. Scott, the Stationmaster, duly received the query, and replied (there was rapid correspondence in those days, whatever the turnover of wagons may have been), on 1st September:
“Re wagtail's nest being discovered on a truck of coal at Ellesmere Station. I know nothing about this discovery. There has been no discovery of eggs in a truck of coal since I have been at this station, not even of ordinary hens’ eggs. I think it is a wag's tale—some person gifted with a large imagination must have inserted this par in the paper.”
The then District Traffic Manager commented upon this in the following terms:
“The paragraph, like the wagtail's nest, is built on a non-existing foundation. As District Manager, I beg to state that trucks are not used for the purpose stated in the Canterbury district, and as one who is somewhat of a naturalist, with a knowledge of the Ellesmere district, I can assure the Department that wagtails do not exist in the country, and even if they did, it is yet, at the time of writing, a month too soon for these birds to lay their eggs.
“I rather fancy the paper has built the yarn on the following facts:
“On 30th July, Mr.——, of Ellesmere had to pay 10/- demurrage for having truck L1014 under load from 27th July to morning of 30th July. The matter was referred to me, but I would not remit the charge. The par in “N.Z. Times” is the result.
“S. F. Whitcombe,
“District Traffic Manager, 4/9/06.”
Mr. H. Buxton, who was Chief Traffic Manager at the time, filed the papers with the following pencilled note:-
“Record this alleged delay to truck of coal at Ellesmere. It may be quoted again.—H.B.”
We therefore take pleasure now in quoting it again, and feel sure that both Mr. Buxton and Mr. Scott, who, though retired from the service, are still interested in it, will enjoy this retelling of the “tale of a wagtail.”
At a mass meeting of railway employees held at Oamaru on 2nd September, a resolution was passed requesting all railway employees to reciprocate with those tradesmen who have their goods conveyed by rail.
A veteran settler of the Waikato was recounting some of his early-days experiences. He tackled all sorts of jobs, from bullock-driving to storekeeping, in the rough old times just after the Maori wars. Among other duties, when he was running a small store in a just-started township before he took up farming, he was asked to conduct the post office, salary, say £10 per annum. The mail was not heavy, and the post office didn't take up much room. It consisted of an old candle-box, with a lid hinged on. Town headquarters, however, had an idea that Taki-takihoewaka P.O. was an important institution, and the postmaster received numerous official memos. of instructions and requests for returns and so forth. As he used these communications to light his pipe and his fire, headquarters began to get annoyed, and sent up an official to inspect and report. The officer arrived in a “please explain” mood, and demanded to know this and that and why and wherefore.
The postmaster wasted no time arguing with his high-and-mightiness. “Here's your blanky stamps,” he said, slamming down a sheet of them. “Here's your blinking punch”—the cancelling stamp. “Tell your boss I've resigned! And here goes the blanky post office!“—and taking the candle-box to the door he delivered a mighty kick and sent it flying into the creek that ran a few yards in front of the store.
They have a smart new post office now in that settlement—it's a town to-day. When it was opened, the local dignitaries said a lot about the noble pioneers who laid the foundations of this flourishing centre, but not a word about the pioneer post office that met a watery grave.
Sometimes it is claimed that America has the world's biggest trees. But if we take timber content as the test, New Zealand's kauri leads the world. The great eucalyptus trees of Australia are much loftier, so are many of the sequoia of California, which also are often somewhat thicker through than the kauri, but as has been pointed out by that great forester, the late Sir David Hutchins, neither of them carry their thickness up like the kauri. It is the shape of our famous tree that gives it its unprecedented volume of timber. The bole has little or no taper;
Our kauri, what is left of it, is a precious possession, but it should be more
The Largest Electrically-Operated Dredge in the Southern Hemisphere.
The Golden Terrace Goldmining Company's Electric Dredge on the Shotover River, Queens-town, South Island. (The materials used in the construction of the dredge were transported to the site by the Railway Department.)pataka richly carved. It was the larder in which Korokai kept his supply of human flesh, for he was a cannibal of cannibals, and his pataka-kai-tangata was seldom empty. It was tapu through and through, for none but Korokai and his chieftain friends could draw upon it, and the flesh of man was sacred food, say the Maoris. Korokai was the great chief of Rotorua a than a tree museum, as some have called it. There is every reason why an effort should be made to regenerate the kauri and increase the forests, for future generations of New Zealanders. Kauri really grows about twice as fast as the principal European timber trees; and just as the English Government once grew oak for the navy we should grow our best timber for those who are to come after us.
The foreshore of Ohinemutu, Lake Rotorua, is thick with memories and relics of the past. It is a place of curious old tales of primitive Maoridom. On the north-east shore of Muruika Point, in rear of the Church of St. Faith, there are still to be seen three of the moss-encrusted hundred years ago. His favourite dish was man or woman—and when there were no wars a slave would be killed for his delectation. Usually, however, the carved pataka held many taha or calabashes filled with the preserved flesh of war victims. Korokai's dwelling, a carved house called “Matapihi,” stood just behind the present site of the church. The space occupied by this lakeward-looking home is still to be traced on the grassy point. Now the white man's church bell sends its call across land and lake, and the wild doings of Muruika when the fierce tattooed men feasted on long-pig cooked in the “fires of Ngatoro-i-Rangi” —the hot springs—are but a misty memory.
It will soon be time for that glad sound to the bird-lover and the country rover, and to many a town-dweller as well, the first song of the shining cuckoo, the pipi-wharauroa. Since time immemorial this little messenger of the new year has been flying to and for across the ocean on its annual migrations, and its arrival in New Zealand has been the signal for the Maori to plant the kumara. Its call ending in a long-drawn high-whistling “tio-o” is peculiarly the shining cuckoo's cry; it can never be mistaken for the note of any other bird.
Unlike most of our other native birds, the pipi-wharauroa is no shy shunner of towns and farms. Wherever there is an inviting grove of trees with promise of food—how hateful those fruitless funeral-like pinus insignus plantations!—there the shining cuckoo's “kui, kui,” and its cheery “tio-o” may be heard some time or other in the summer. I have heard it in the bluegum plantation alongside the Rotorua railway station.
A picturesque little coast town with landscape features all its own is Kaikoura.
A Typical Everyday Scene on the New Zealand Railways.
(Photo, W. W. Stewart.)
A long freight train passing through Paekakariki station, Wellington Province.
Near by there were relics of an older day. An ancient wooden capstan stood on the beach; once upon a time a dozen men would walk the long capstan pole round—it was a great single bar—and haul the whale up high and dry.
New Zealand Railways Maintenane Men at Work Along the Line
Eminent British authorities who have inspected the railway tracks in New Zealand have reported that transtandard of maintenance observed in this country is not surpassed anywhere in the world. The above illustrations depict the activities of the men whose efficient work has done much to earn the above tribut and given the New Zealand Railways their unique safety record of over 100 million passengers carried during the past four years without one fatality. The illustrations shew:—(1) (2) (3) (4) track relaying operasons; (5) getting correct gauge measurement; (6) drilling a rail; (7) lunch time; (8) (9) (12) ballasting the line; (10) (11) taking levels; (13) taking a sight; (14) removing a rail on Paremata bridge; (15) ceveying rails by trolley; (16) removing an old rail; (17) lifting and packing operations. (Rly. Publicity Photos.)
James Cowan
“The thermal regions of New Zealand,” stated Professor F. Schaffer, a distinguished scientist of Vienna, “eclipse those of Yellowstone Park.” Nowhere, perhaps, is the thermal phenomena of our country more impressive than at Tikitere (near Rotorua), the interesting story of which is told by Mr. James Cowan in the following article.
It is a curiously fascinating place in spite of (or perhaps because of) its almost repulsive features, this unbeautiful scar on the face of our Rotorua wonderland that is called Tikitere by the Maoris, and a variety of Dantesque names by pakeha visitors. In atmosphere as in appearance it is a slice of the material Hades. Boiling water and boiling mud of grey and brown and black, and of ferocious wickedness, hot streams, sulphur bridges over horrible spluttering pits, sulphur caves, and a lost-and-damned character altogether. No beauteous geysers here; no pure sparkling fountains arched by rainbows. But it draws those who know it to come again and again.
There was, in the days of the past, a guardian of this wizardly wound on the face of Nature that perfectly fitted the place. She was the venerable Arihi Takurua, who with her old-soldier husband, Paddy McCrory—they both died some years ago—lived here fully half a century, and guided visitors about the place. The greater part of their lives was spent in this uncanny corner. Very bent, almost a hunchback, with a coloured shawl about her grey head and tattooed face, keen bright eyes peering out, she looked a witch of the enchanted valley, as she came out to meet the travellers, grasping in her long talon-like fingers a spear-headed walking staff.
But Arihi of Tikitere really was a pleasant and kindly old dame, and the capital cup of tea she could produce for her fleeting paying guests was no witch's brew, though the kettle was boiled in one of wild Nature's stoves, a plopping and gurgling steam-vent.
Arihi, too, was a kindly nurse to many a crippled sufferer who camped here to bathe in the open, in the healing hot waters of Muriwai, the little dark stream that carries off the mineralised drainings of the thermal valley.
The name Arihi, by the way, is Alice, Maorified; it was given her in her girlhood by the missionary, Thomas Chapman, and his wife, whose station was at Te Ngae, down yonder overlooking the east shore of Rotorua lake.
It was a sufficiently weird experience to spend a night at Tikitere. On one of my long rides around the Lakes country, and into all sorts of queer corners; I put my horse in the near-by grass paddock, and, after tea with the old couple, slept, or tried to sleep, in one of the guest-huts of slab-and-thatch that composed the tiny hamlet of the Boiling-Mud Valley. All night long there was a quiver in the ground, as one lay on the mat-covered floor, and now and again a hollow thump reminded one that the fearful pools of ever-boiling water and mud were only a few yards away.
But it was safe enough, said Alice and Paddy. They had eaten and slept and loved on the brink of a visible hell for many a year, and there was little change in that valley of uncanny sounds, sights and smells all their life there. Even the Tarawera eruption and earthquake in 1886 hardly affected Tikitere's features at all.
This is the folk-tale of the origin of Tikitere's boiling pools, as told by old Arihi, who had it from her tohunga elders in her youth. Very long ago there came to these shores from Hawaiki, in the Great South Sea, two wise women, Chieftainesses and priestesses, whose names were Kuiwai and Haungaroa. With them came their brother Tane-Whakaraka, and sundry people of less degree, workers and food-bearers. The women were most learned women in occult
mana, as will be seen. They landed on the Bay of Plenty coast, and wandered inland to these parts, exploring the country and naming places. They came to this valley, Tikitere (the name is said to have been that of an ancient sailing-canoe from Hawaiki), and here they camped awhile. It was just a glen in the forest then; it had no boiling springs or mud lakelets.
“Calcareous caldrons, deep and large,
With geysers hissing to their marge.”—Alfred Domett.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
“Hell's Gates,” Tikitere, Rotorua, New Zealand.
The brother Tane Whakaraka presently became restless, eager for further travel. He was a great hunter, a bird-spearsman and snare-setter. He discovered that all this country around the lakes was a grand place for his fowling, and so he resolved to set off into the ranges on a long bird-hunting expedition, with several of his followers. Wild pigeons, kaka parrots, tui, bellbirds, kokako or crow—the bush swarmed with them, and they were tame as tame could be. A paradise this for the Maori birder.
Tane pointed to the blue mountains and said to his sisters:
“I am going up yonder. I may be a long time away. I have fixed my heart upon those hills. Remain you here and I will bring you the spoils of the forest.”
And off to the unknown heights, to the eastward of Rotorua lake, went Tane, trailing his long bird-spear.
That was the last the priestess sisters ever saw of him. Long they waited here in Tikitere glen, waited anxiously, ever turning their eyes towards the purple ranges yonder. They gave a name to the mountain; it was Whakapoungakau, which means the Place of Heart's Desire, because of their brother's saying that he had fixed his heart upon going there.
Tane Whakaraka never returned to them. Perhaps he and his few men had been slain in the forest by the tangata-whenua, the original people of the land, or perhaps he had wandered on to other parts and found a new home to his liking. They knew not what had happened.
At last, in sorrow, they resolved to return to the sea coast, and to their old home in Hawaiki. They did so, but before they departed they put forth their wizardly powers, and called upon Ruaimoko, the god of volcanoes, to the end that there should be wai-ariki, or bathing pool of hot water, wherein their brother should be able to refresh his weary body when he returned from
puia and ngawha and wai-ariki.
And then the weird sisters went their way, leaving the tall columns of steam that ever ascend from this valley of wonders as a sign and a guiding mark for their lost brother.
What became of Tane, the bird-hunter, whether he has left his bones in his Hills of Heart's Desire or not, no man knows. But there the wizard-made boiling waters and the huge cauldrons of boiling mud fume and bubble to-day; and that is how Tikitere got its hot springs.
Tane the woodsman would no doubt have had to content himself with a dip in Muriwai hot creek if, or when, he returned to the valley, for those huge pools of boiling mud and muddy water, ever-splashing and swirling, are scarcely the ponds a tired bushman, or anyone else, would have selected for a bath. Yon great pool of greyish water and mud called Huritin:—“The Ever-Revolving”—pool
”
Sable lazy-bubbling pools
Of spluttering mud that never cools.”
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
“The Porridge Pot,” Tikitere, Rotorua.
Agreeable, too, is a bath under that warm cascade at the upper end of the valley, the narrow stream which falls over a grey rock in a little waterfall, which the Maoris call Te Mimi-o-te-kakahi, likening it to the thin stream of water ejected by the lake bivalve, the kakahi when it is taken up in the dredge-nets. It is not so discoloured as Muriwai, for it is high above the mud-pots; it flows from the great boiling springs on the hillside, whose lofty pillars of vapour you may see many miles away. Steam-columns seemingly laid like snowy-white feathers against the green; the sign and token of the priestess sisters for their brother who roved the fatal Hills of Heart's Desire.
How The Early Settlers Solved a Big Transport Problem.
(Continued.)
After obtaining the report of Mr. G. R. Stephenson, which strongly recommended the direct line of railway from Christchurch to Lyttelton, the London Commissioners (Messrs. Selfe, Fitzgerald and Cummins) proceeded, in accordance with their further instructions, to make enquiry for a firm willing to carry out the work. They made a conditional contract with the firm of Smith and Knight, of London, in terms of which the contractors undertook to construct the line in five years, for the sum of £235,000. The contract was to be terminable at any time within four months of the time of arrival of the contractors in the colony, if (a) the Government could not find the money, or (b) the contractors found the work could not be done for the sum specified.
The representatives of the contractors, Messrs Baynes (manager) and McCandlish (engineer), together with a body of skilled workmen, arrived in New Zealand in December, 1859, and commenced preliminary operations. On 21st December the Provincial Council passed the Lyttelton and Christchurch Railway Ordinance, validating the contract made by the Commissioners and authorising the work. The Ordinance required the assent of His Excellency the Governor, but on being submitted to him his assent was withheld, as he was advised by the Attorney-General that the powers proposed to be created by the Ordinance were in excess of the constitutional rights of the Province. It became necessary, therefore, to promote a Bill at the next sitting of the General Assembly in order to obtain the necessary powers. The Loan Ordinance was also held up until these powers were obtained. In consequence, the Provincial Government was not in a position to comply with the terms of the contract with Messrs. Smith and Knight. It was suggested (seeing there was little doubt that the legislation required would be passed in due course) that the final ratification of the contract be postponed for a further four months, but as at the end of April the Provincial Government was not able to find the money, the contract was terminated by the contractors.
Although the Provincial Council had already passed the Ordinance authorising the construction of the railway, and the Superintendent specially referred to this in his address, nevertheless, when the Ordinance was disallowed and a special session was called together on 27th March, 1860, to advise the Superintendent in regard to the matter, the Council proceeded to re-open the whole question and to hear in committee evidence for and against the proposal. The opposition came mainly from those having vested interests in the Heathcote River navigation. Wharves had been established at various points on the river, viz.: Ferry Wharf, Steam Wharf, Union Wharf, Aikman's Wharf, and Christchurch Quay. These wharves were approached from the Ferry Road, on which the goods were carted to and from Christchurch. A Customs Bond was authorised at Aikman's Wharf, and two steamship companies were in operation trading between the river and Lyttelton.
After hearing the evidence the Council passed the following resolution: “Whereas the Council has already, during its last session, recorded its decided opinion that a railway between Lyttelton and Christchurch is urgently required, and that such railway should be constructed direct, and by means of a tunnel under the hills, it is therefore resolved:
1. That under the present circumstances of the Province it is highly
2. That the interest accruing upon the said loan after a rate not exceeding 6 per cent. per annum may be safely guaranteed by the Provincial Government and that a further
Christchurch-Lyttelton Railway Electrification.
A rotary converter in the Woolston sub-station.
3. That the Superintendent be respectfully requested to take such measures as may by him, with the advice of his Executive, be deemed necessary for promoting during the ensuing session of the General Assembly such legislative enactments as are indispensable to the construction of the said line of railway.
4. That it is highly expedient that a loan, not exceeding three hundred thousand pounds, be negotiated, to be expended solely in the purchase of the site and in defraying the cost of the construction of the railway and the necessary stations, engines, carriages, and rolling stock.
5. Provided that such loan shall not be raised in any greater amount or proportion than fifty thousand pounds, or one-sixth of the whole sum in any one year during the progress of the work.
Charles Bowen, Speaker.”
Mr. Edward Dobson, the Provincial Engineer, who superintended the layout of the proposed Lyttelton to Christchurch railway, in giving evidence before the Committee of the Provincial Council, supplied detailed estimates of the cost of construction, equipment, and operating. He gave a general description of the proposed line, the length of which was six miles 40½ chains. The steepest grade was 1 in 150 (rising to the western end of the tunnel) and the sharpest curve (of 10 chains radius) at the Lyttelton end. The grade through the tunnel was 1 in 287. He estimated the cost of the work at £300,000, under the following headings:
He also gave details showing how the total of each of these amounts was reached.
The estimate was for a single line, and a tunnel, 15 feet wide and 18ft high above rail level, 2,838 yards in length. The cost of tunnelling at £64 10s. per lineal yard was £183,051.
Lyttelton station was to cost £23,000 and Christchurch £10,600. The larger cost of Lyttelton station was due to the need for filling and retaining walls, but the cost could be somewhat reduced by the employment of prison labour on a portion of the work.
The rolling stock estimated to be required was:—Two engines, eight passenger carriages, one brakevan, four covered goods wagons, two horse-boxes (each to convey four horses), one cattle wagon, two timber trucks, and thirty goods trucks, to cost in all, with tools, duplicates, and other contingencies, £19,500. This was considered sufficient to deal with a traffic equal to 200,000 tons per annum, but for the initial traffic (estimated at 30,000 tons) nearly the same rolling stock would be required.
The proposals for superintendence were —Consulting engineer (in England), £500 per annum; resident engineer (in Colony), £800 per annum; two inspectors (at £150 each), £300 per annum; surveys and occasional assistance, £300 per annum; in all £1,900 per annum for six years, £11,400.
In reply to a suggestion that the salary of the Resident Engineer was unduly high, Mr. Dobson stated that the engineer in charge of a similar work in England would be paid £600 a year, and he would work under the immediate supervision of an engineer-in-chief. Unless the engineer in control was a man of high professional standing, in whose judgment and professional character a contracting firm could place entire confidence, they would probably decline to proceed with the undertaking. Such a man, if brought from England to take charge, would require to be paid £1,000 a year salary, a sum for his outfit, and a free passage Home on completion of the work.
The cost of buildings for a terminal station was £6,000, viz:—Station office, £800; goods warehouse, £1,200; carriage shed, £200; platforms, £420; engine house, £1,000; repairing shops, £2,000; cranes, weighbridge, etc., £380. This would include all the accommodation required at the starting of the line.
The cost of working a traffic of 30,000 tons with passengers in proportion would be about £8,500. An increase of £1,500 would work a traffic of 60,000 tons, as follows:—
Staff—Manager £800, 2 clerks in charge (£300 each) £600, 2 clerks in charge at intermediate stations (£200 each) £400,2 head porters (£180 each) £360, 8 porters (£120 each) £960, 1 guard £220, 6 policemen (£110 each) £660, total £4,000; maintenance permanent way, 6 miles at £150 per mile, £900; maintenance of buildings, £500; 2 engines in steam, including train expenses, £3,600; reserve fund, 5 per cent. on rolling stock, £1,000; total, £10,000.
Christchurch Passenger Yard, 1930.
A portion of the overhead electrical equipment.
The maximum charge per ton on the proposed railway was 15/-, including collection and delivery. This rate, it was considered, was sufficiently low to preclude competition by other means of transport. It was estimated that if the Sumner Road were completed as planned the cartage rate could be as low as 20/-per ton, and by steamer up the Heathcote River (to make a profit) 20/- per ton, including collection and delivery. The latter rate could not be reduced to any extent by the improvement of navigation.
Assuming the population to reach 30,000 in 1866, the following was given as a fair estimate of the traffic when the line was in working order:—
Mr. Dobson was of opinion that the existing traffic did not afford any sure data for future trade. With the expenditure on immigration of £10,000 per annum for three years the produce of the country would be largely increased, and the imports would keep pace with the exports. There would also be the local traffic created by the railway, estimated at one ton per head per annum for the population between the Waimakariri and Rangitata rivers. The collection and delivery of goods would no doubt be done by contract, and was therefore not included in the working expenses.
Looking Back Fifty-Five Years.
(Photo, courtesy Lyttelton Harbour Board.)
A view of Lyttelton in 1875, shewing the development of the railway yards on the reclaimed land.
The Provincial Treasurer (Mr. John Marshman) gave estimates of future income to ascertain the ability of the province to pay interest and sinking fund on loans during the construction of the railway. Income and expenditure were properly divisible into two accounts, viz: Territorial and Revenue.
Mr. Baynes, representing Messrs. Smith and Knight, contractors, stated, as a result of careful investigation, that he was satisfied the province could undertake the railway scheme proposed. He had studied the figures given by Mr. Marshman and thought his hypothesis sound. Mr. McCandlish, the Engineer, considered the railway a feasible project. There was nothing in the work that would lead him to think that the cost would exceed the amount of contract. Mr. Baynes agreed with Mr. Dobson's figures generally, including the estimated cost of £8,500 per annum for working a traffic of 30,000 tons. He considered there would be no difficulty (judging by the success of the Canadian 6 per cent. bonds) in raising a loan of £300,000 at 6 per cent. on Government security.
(To be continued.)
Olive Scandlyn
It was a gloriously golden day, and the willows, down by the cool-running river, never had seemed so fair or so daintily beautiful. Silver-grey poplars had entwined their branches with those of the willows, and on one part of the bank, a hawthorn had set its slender feet.
A fragrant scent from the clusters of snowy blossoms filled the warm air with sweetness, while in amongst the tender, bushy leaves, almost hidden by the star-like flower petals, a little brown bird chirped incessantly.
Gisborne's Mardi Gras Procession.
(Photo, D. W. Comber.)
This interesting exhibit was entered by the Gisborne railway staff in the recent Mardi Gras procession at Gisborne, and was awarded first prize and the championship.
Peter lived in the big house with the beautiful garden, that sloped away down to the very banks of the river, and Peter had lived in that big house all his four short years.
He loved it so, too, although he was too young yet to know all the precious love and dear thoughts that had gone into the making of that lovely home. So Peter saw only the prettiness of the soft hangings, the polished wood, and the careful arrangement of pictures and books, china and flowers.
And how Peter did love the dainty blossoms in the big garden, for many a happy hour had he spent there with his fairies. When you are only four, and so have not yet known the scorn the great world holds for such childish things, you believe in all the little folk—the fairies, elves and sprites.
But on this golden day, Peter had forsaken his fairies, and brought a childish sorrow to the fragrant hawthorn that grew amidst the willows and poplars by the cool-running stream.
For to-morrow was Mother's birthday, and Daddy, before he went to talk with God had always brought his “dear” a present. And this was the first birthday since Daddy had gone away.
“And y'know,” Peter sobbed to the scented blossoms while the little brown bird hushed for awhile its chirping. “Mine Daddy will feel so mis'rubble, ‘cause Mummie says you tant buy things in Heaven. Oh, mine poor Daddy!” and the tear-filled blue eyes were lifted to the cloudless sky where Daddy talked with God.
A golden-brown collie, lured down to the river by the cool drinking water, came upon the huddled up child and stopped to sniff at him. Then, with bushy tail a-wag, he thrust his cold nose into Peter's damp, little hand.
Startled, the child rolled over on to his back, brushing away the bright tear drops and choked back a big sob which made his throat ache and ache.
But the golden-brown collie dog sat back on his haunches and grinned as only a dog can grin, while his liquid eyes looked into Peter's as much as to say “Fancy crying on such a lovely day!”
And Peter blinking away some more tears, smiled too, and patted the silken head. He knew where the big dog lived, and had seen the tall stern man and his pretty wife. But when Peter had asked Mother if he might go and say “hullo” to them she had smiled sadly and drawn her little boy close to her.
“The poor lady is naughty. Peter must ask God to make her better.”
One day Peter had heard Daddy say, although the little boy understood only part of it:
“Mrs. Haslett has applied for a separation. She will be leaving soon. Poor John—and he loves her so. She is so clever, too, and could make so many dreams come true.”
But Peter had crept away then, for Mother said it was very wrong to listen when you were not supposed to.
Now, as he sat beneath the hawthorn tree. Daddy's words came back to him, and he said them aloud in his baby way, while the big colliedog gravely listened.
“A mass of one species of tree is sublime.”—Ruskin.
(Photo, E. D. Burt.)
“The Four Sisters”—and interesting cluster of kauris (uniting in one base), in Trounson National Park, North Auckland, New Zealand.
“Mine Daddy said the pwitty lady will make dweams come true. And I dweamed last night mine Daddy dwopped some f'owers down to Mummie, for her ‘day. Do you fink—do you fink,” tumbling the words out in his eagerness, “she would make mine dweam come true?”
The big collie-dog rubbed his head against the child's shoulder and grinned, then trotted off in the direction of his home.
“Waiton Waiton! I'm tuming!” and the little boy started off in pursuit.
The iron gates were open, so Peter hurried inside them, and stood still for a moment to regain his breath. His heart was going pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, so he placed his hand tightly against his chest and started to walk slowly up the garden path, to the low bungalow.
Mrs. Haslett saw the small figure approaching, and went out onto the lawn to meet the child.
Peter's face was rosy and the breeze had ruffled his bright curls into beautiful disorder, but the blue eyes were very steadfast as he raised them.
“Well, little boy! Have you come to see me?” she asked in her curiously sweet voice, and she smiled rather wistfully as Peter's eyes searched her face.
“Yes. I did follow him,” pointing to the big dog who had placed himself at Mrs. Haslett's feet. “I comed—oh I comed to ask—will you make mine dweams come twue?”
“Your dream, dear? I am afraid I do not understand.”
A shadow dimmed the bright eyes.
“You tan! You tan! Mine Daddy said you would make dweams come twue.”
Mrs. Haslett drew him with her into the shade of the rose covered porch, and sitting down on a low chair, took Peter on her knee.
“Now tell me all about it.”
Peter twisted himself around to face her, and then, in his baby way, with many stumblings over the awkward words, told his story.
“And mine Daddy said you would make dweams come twue. Oh, would you—p'ease make mine dweam come twue? I'll div you mine teddy, and mine twain, and all mine pennies!”
In his eagerness he had thrown his arms tightly round her neck.
With a strange little cry she buried her face in his sunny curls.
“Yes, dear, I'll make your dreams come true. Daddy won't cry to-morrow.”
Peter's rapturous cry of joy almost startled her.
“Oh you're dood! Peter loves you!” and he rewarded her with a hearty kiss.
Mrs. Haslett still held him on her knee, and presently, tired out with all the happenings of that day, he fell asleep, with his head resting on her breast.
A big, hot tear fell suddenly. Another and then another splashed down on the sleeping
The touch of a baby can wreck the proudest and the hardest heart in the world; but the heart of Mrs. Haslett was neither proud nor hard, but just one of a butterfly—in its careless, carefree, reckless throbbing.
Her husband, coming slowly round the corner of the bungalow, found the two there and stopped still. Then with a twitching face went across to his wife.
She heard him approach and started to her feet, clasping the child closer to her. Her tearstained face was wonderfully beautiful in its sadness. Silently they looked at each other, till suddenly John knelt at her feet.
“Sylvia, don't go away! I love you so!” came the passionate cry from a man's breaking heart.
Tenderly Mrs. Haslett placed the slumbering child on the low chair, and kneeling down, too, drew her husband's head against her breast, where a moment ago Peter's golden curls had rested.
“Ah John, I have been so miserable! Will you forgive me? John I love you too—oh, so much. The pure love of a child has driven the foolishness from my heart.”
Railway Improvements in Wellington.
View of the Tawa Flat deviation works near the approach to the 2 ½ mile tunnel. The viaduct shewn on the right indicates the present route of the railway line.
So a little later the three of them went down the garden path together and crossed the wide road that led from the river, to Peter's mother.
And Mother glancing from John's face to Sylvia's understood and took Mrs. Haslett into a warm embrace.
Peter, now widely awake and perched high on John's shoulder, smiled radiantly and blew a kiss to Mother.
“Mummie, mine dweam is tuming twue! Daddy won't cry to-morrow.”
Mother was puzzled, so it all had to be explained, and when the recital was ended, Peter slipped down from John's shoulder.
“Is you glad mine dweam is coming twue?”
“Yes, sonny boy.” Mother whispered and held him tightly as she watched the two whose dreams had been mended by a little child, walk away together, loving arms about each other.
“Little mender of dreams. Mother is ever so glad.”
So Peter smiled happily, and ran away to bid “goodnight” to his dear flower fairies, before the golden day faded into soft twilight.
Dale
The effect on the worker, and on industry, which follows the adoption of labour-saving devices in the workshop and factory, is discussed by Mr. Dale in this, the final instalment, of his series of articles on Modern Industrial Psychology.
In concluding this series of articles, which have traversed a variety of fields, the general attitude must now be considered.
At the outset it must be admitted, quite frankly, that wherever labour-saving devices or labour-directing efforts have been made, there have been some difficulties. Not always have these been inconsiderable. It is wise, therefore, to take a wide view of the whole matter and examine the charges made against those methods which have been used to secure greater production.
The first question is, of course, the increase in profits which the methods are avowedly designed to make. As a matter of fact a moment's consideration will shew that some part of these find their way back to the worker. If you take a man from labouring work because he has ability in office work, then he receives additional wages. If all work produces a larger profit because of better directed effort some part of these extra profits must find their way to those engaged in the work, for it has become specialised work. To secure the right type it is essential that some additional reward must be offered. How great the addition must be depends upon the worker—it is simply a question of how much extra inducement must the employer offer the employees in order to make it worth their while to change habits which are often ingrained.
The average worker is quick to see that the distribution of profits is not the aim of any system of scientific management, but rather is it to increase output at the saving of physical exertion as noted in the first article. Money, whether profits or extra profits, does not enter into the field at all, for it is a method of work rather than results of work which is at the base of the whole matter.
When there is a satisfactory method evolved, the increased output means, economically, a drop in prices, since primary cost is less. This drop in prices means an increase in consumption of the commodity which, in turn, reacts by demanding more labour in production. Refer again to our boot trade. In spite of what the manufacturers say, if the trade adopts scientific management and “best methods” are used, the output will be increased. This wall enable the price to the wearer to be lowered. People who bought two pairs of boots formerly are now able to purchase more pairs—as much as they really need. This stimulation to buying would be reflected in the workshops, where those engaged would be more firmly entrenched in their jobs than ever.
There is, in some quarters, a distinct aversion to the introduction of machinery as a labour-saving device. This is unfortunate, because, taken to its logical conclusion, there would be no work at all
There is another point, too, which a worker made during my investigations. In discussing “best methods” he stated that it took away the chance of being an individual, the craftsmanship outlook was lost because everything worked to a plan upon highly organised lines. The very fact that the assembly shop lays down
Snapped on Station Platform.
An enginedriver and his mate proceeding to “take over” at Auckland.
The early, unorganised system is a method of work with its own set of laws equally with that of the new order. No matter what is done it conforms to some law or another, but not necessarily the best law. The fundamental principle in any “best method” is the utilisation of natural law to the fullest extent. No man training for sport is content to train anyhow, he is always out to use science as his ablest assistant. A university student gets up his subject upon scientific lines, his knowledge and practical work is not taken in any indiscriminate order, but in definite progression.
Similarly then, in the factory, the unorganised method is not calculated to help the worker. Too often it is in direct opposition to natural laws, so that his body—his physical energies—soon pay the price. He becomes worn out. By standardising and selecting methods there is a regard for natural laws, and a conservation of energy which is, in the main, utilised as much after knock-off time as before. By such organisation greater freedom is, in effect, brought about. The retention of certain clearly defined movements makes them mechanical. They become habitual, and when that is brought about the employee works with considerably less effort than when the whole day he is compelled to think almost exclusively about his job.
It will be patent, too, that where science has come to the aid of the worker there is less chance of a break-down due to strain, for no foreman would work without a “pause principle.” The only matter which can really affect an employee so that he becomes completely “mechanised” (if such a term can be used), is by working unduly long hours. When this stage is reached, then it is time to make some effort to shorten the number of hours worked. I have no doubt such an arrangement would bring about the desired result very quickly, for human life is too precious to be so laid waste. However, that aspect does not appear to be imminent.
Nor does the system take away craft skill, which, too often, has proved itself to be extremely involved. Gilbreth studied the bricklayer's motions, reduced the whole process to a scientific basis, and instead of destroying the craftskill, gave a better craftskill altogether. Taylor did the same with pig-iron handling. History shows that, with the decay of the domestic system and the introduction of the industrial system, new craftsmanship was born. What was the movement but the utilisation of science in the cause of industry? If you ask “What of the man who used up all the screws in Auckland?” The simple
Even granting a certain loss of trade secrets, no one can assert that it is detrimental to the worker from a financial point of view, and that, after all, is the chief factor in “close” trades, isn't it? It may assist in the marketing to spread the production through organised factories. As a matter of fact, one small factory of which I know, is at the present time reorganising on scientific lines, in order to market excellent “period” furniture, which was made almost entirely by hand. The output is not one whit inferior, yet the knowledge of several processes are now shared by all hands in the shop—it is the public who cannot tell the difference.
When all realise that Industrial Psychology can, and will, be a most useful handmaiden to employment, then we are well along the road to success.
Providing Seating Comfort for Travellers on the N.Z.R.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A corner of the Trimming Shop at the Department's Workshops, Otahuhu, North Island.
Carriage Insulation and Ventilation
An entirely new plan for sleeping car ventilation, recently employed by the London, Midland and Scottish Railway, is of interest (says our London Correspondent).
The new ventilation method is known as the “Punkah” system. Home railway sleeping-cars are constructed on the compartment principle, with a side corridor running the full length of the vehicle. In each sleeping compartment, just over the bed head, a patent louvre is fitted. At the same height as the louvres, an air duct runs along the whole length of the corridor, connection being made to the louvres by a hole cut in the corridor partition. A centrifugal fan, direct-coupled to a 250-watt electric motor, is placed on the top of a linen cupboard situated at one end of the corridor, the motor being energised from the ordinary lighting set. By means of a valve, air can either be delivered to the berths, or extracted therefrom. Air from outside is passed through an oil filter, and the volume of air entering a berth is controlled by the individual passenger, who may shut off the supply completely, or partially, according to his needs. Under stiff trials, the L. M. and S. Railway states that even when passing through the longest tunnels, smoke and fumes were not delivered to the compartments.
Told ByLeo Fanning
Whenever I hear anyone uttering that old untruth: “There's nothing in the paper.” I always reply: “Have you read the ads.?” Among the advertisements, especially on the page of “Wanteds,” you see the real life of the people. What tragedies and comedies lurk between words or lines of some of those little statements of needs!
Cosily half asleep beside a big fire one night, when a howling southerly was trying viciously to break through a window or wall, I failed to develop any lively interest in the latest exploits of aircraft or the speeches in the Budget debate. So I turned languidly to the front page of a Wellington paper, and let my eye waver drowsily down a column headed: “Lost, Found, Personal.” Very quickly I was wide awake, as keenly alert as one of Edgar Wallace's sharpest sleuths. Indeed two or three of the ads. could furnish more exciting plots than some of the overworked Edgar's.
* * *
Take this one first:
Lost, last night, pair lady's dark brown suede gloves,. vicinity Ferry Wharf or Majestic Theatre. Finder Ring ——. Reward.
Reader, before you look further into this article, pause and ponder. Peruse that ad. very carefully again, and try to build a story. You notice the positive statement of the lady's belief that the gloves were lost either near the theatre or the wharf (which happens to be about a quarter of an hour's walk from the theatre). She feels confident that she did not lose them between those two places. If she admits a possibility that she did not lose them just outside the theatre, why should she think that the only other possible losing place would be near the wharf and not at any point on the way thither?
* * *
Let us then “Sherlock” ourselves for a minute or two, and reconstruct the scene. A theatre party, of course. Women and men. Probably all young. The girl had taken off her gloves in the warm theatre and did not put them on again in the building. She remembered that her hands were bare when she reached the chilly street and the party stayed chattering for a while until some of the members scurried for trams. She remembers (with a slight thrill and perhaps a pleasant blush) that her right hand was ungloved when it was warmly pressed by one of her admirers who left the group by the theatre. She feels now that she might have dropped the gloves in the flurry and flutter of that moment. She knows also that if she did not lose them then, she would have put them on for the walk or ride to the wharf with other members of the party. She remembers also that she would have removed at least one glove at the wharf for another tender leave-taking. She knows that her right hand was bare for the final pressures. So there you are. You know now why the ad. was worded in that peculiar manner.
But there is more mystery. Just near that ad. was another one:
Lost gold ball ear-ring, Ferry Wharf, last night.
Same time, same place! Probably a member of the same party. Now why should the lady feel sure that she lost the ear-ring at the Ferry Wharf? It would have been easy to lose it on the way to the wharf or on the boat, without missing it. Probably she did not notice the loss until she reached home and gazed in a mirror. Then she ran her mind rapidly over the events of the night and remembered the impetuous embrace of a lover in the dark. Put the gloves and ear-ring together, and you have the makings of a merry party.
* * *
But we must move on to other ads. in the same column. Here is one:
Lost top set teeth, Lambton Quay, Monday.
The teeth do not seem to be linked with the ear-ring and the gloves, but they may be. Indeed, I think they are, because the “last night” of the first two ads. was Monday night. Now, if the teeth were lost on Monday, would the loss have occurred in broad daylight or at night? “Night, of course,” you all say, and so do I. Lambton Quay is on the way from the Majestic Theatre to the Ferry Wharf. We can assume, then, for the moment that the man who lost the teeth was a member of the party which included the owners of the suede gloves and the gold ear-ring. Why you can find a story for the missing teeth.
* * *
Tarry again, readers, and see whether you can find a story for the missing teeth. Lambton Quay has a number of restaurants. Did the party have supper? Did the man of the shifty teeth get them entangled or embedded in a difficult mouthful, slip them quickly into a handkerchief and hold them away from their proper habitat until he could find an opportunity, in the street, to fix them? Then in a playful rally there, did he drop them and lack the courage to retrieve them among curious onlookers?
I prefer a more romantic explanation of the loss. I looked up the programme of the Majestic Theatre for Monday night and I saw that it featured” ‘The Loveliest Woman of the Screen’—-who will delight you with her delicious portrayal of a soft-spoken, charming little waitress in some of the greatest love scenes ever filmed. The most glorious romance of her screen career.” And there were “talking effects” too!
Did the man try to talk some of those “effects” and thus project those top teeth into the street? Or did the memory of those “greatest love scenes” suddenly surge in him and urge him to give a super-Valentino kiss to the delightful girl who held his arm, the kind of devouring kiss given by the he-man lover who cries: “I could eat you!“? If only those top teeth had been lost at the wharf where the ear-ring vanished! But we can't have everything to help us with our plots. I have shown enough in these ads. for plenty of exercise with the imagination.
The great thing about life is the going out of friendliness from being to being.
—John Galsworthy.
Railway Veteran's Death.
The late Mr. John Timms, formerly Inspector of Permanent Way, N. Z. R., reference to whose death, at the advanced age of 87 years, was made in our last issue
By Those Who Like Us
From Mr. A. M. Retemeyer, Secretary Hawke's Bay A. and P. Association, to the Stationmaster, Napier:—
At a meeting of my Committee, I was instructed to convey to you and to the members of your staff concerned, a very hearty vote of thanks and appreciation for the expeditious and careful manner in which stock was handled to and from our recent Show. Several of the exhibitors spoke in very complimentary terms as regards the careful handling of the stock.
* * *
From Mr. A. Dawson, Taumarunui, to Mr. E. A. Smart, Stationmaster, Woodville:—
I wish to thank you sincerely for the prompt manner in which you recovered my suitcase, which I lost while passing through Woodville, and for sending it on so soon. One sometimes hears adverse criticism of the Railway Department, but it is only right that the Department should receive credit when it is due.
* * *
From Mr. T. S. Fagg, Manager of the Waimarino Farmers’ Co-operative Association, Ltd., Raetihi, to the Stationmaster, Raetihi:—
Recently a fire broke out in our bulk store, and all our stock was damaged by fire and water. We sent wires to Wanganui, Palmerston North, Auckland and Pukekohe for goods. Your Mr. Charlton, from the goods shed, called on us and promised to do his best to get our goods through. To our great surprise and pleasure some of the goods were in our temporary store at 3 p.m. the following day, and the remainder came to hand the day after. With hardly any delay therefore, we were enabled to carry on with our business.
This service we esteem most highly, and we thank those members of your staff who helped to get our goods through with such little loss of time.
From the Hon. Secretary, the N. Z. Amateur Swimming Association (Otago Centre, Dunedin), to the Editor New Zealand Railways Magazine, Wellington:—
At the last meeting of the Otago Centre of the New Zealand Amateur Swimming Association, I was instructed to write to you expressing our appreciation of the manner in which the Dunedin Railway staff handled the arrangements for the despatch of our representative team for the New Zealand Swimming Championships at Greymouth.
We were met with the utmost courtesy, and nothing was too much trouble for the officials in the way of assisting us with the arrangements, etc. Such a spirit of helpfulness on the part of railway officials makes the task of a sporting body, under such circumstances as those referred to, much easier than would otherwise be the case. Members of this Centre are unanimous in declaring that they have always met with the same obliging treatment from the officers of the local railway staff.
* * *
From Miss Enid Bell, Deputy-Chief Commissioner for New Zealand of the Girl Guides’ Association, to the Chief Clerk, Head Office, Wellington:—
I want to thank you very much for your most valuable help in arranging for the transport of 500 Guides to and from the first Dominion Guide Camp in Wellington.
The arrangements you made were of the very greatest assistance to us, and our transport officer, Miss Duthie, tells me you did everything possible to lighten her work and to ensure comfort for the travellers.
We are indeed grateful for the courtesy and kindness you showed us—the task of arranging our transport seemed a very difficult one until you gave us your help, when everything became easy.
The arrangements you made worked perfectly, and I want you to know how much we appreciate all you did for us.
Wit And Humour
“In your paper this morning you wrote of my speech at the public meeting last night as the ‘insane drivelings of a played-out politician.’”
“What! My dear sir, I am truly sorry if it appeared that way in our paper. The word I used was ‘inane.’”
* * *
An advocate, pleading on behalf of a child four years old, brought it before the Court, and in his peroration took it in his arms.
The child wept, and its tears, along with the advocate's eloquence, moved the jury.
The opposing advocate, disturbed to see the emotion, said to the child: “My dear, why are you crying?”
“He's pinching me,” replied the little one.
* * *
Uncle Henpeck: “You boys of to-day want too much money. Do you know what I was getting when I married your aunt?”
Nephew: “No and I'll bet you didn't either.”
* * *
There is a story about a Scotsman whose daughter was being married and, as the bride and groom were about to leave the house, Sandy insisted that they should leave by the back door instead of the front.
“Whist, Sandy,” whispered his wife, “are ye clean daffy?”
“Hush, woman,” he replied, “if there should be any rice throwin', I thocht it would be verra verra nice for the chickens.”
Biology Professor: “Where do all the bugs go in the winter?”
Absent-minded Student: “Search me!”
* * *
“A deacon is a mass of inflammable material placed in a prominent position to warn the people.”
“A bouquet is the man you give your money to when you want to bet at the races.”
“A brunette is a young bear.”
“Copra is a native policeman.”
“Magna Charta was signed at the bottom of the page.”
“People go about Venice in Gorgonzolas.”
“Doctors say that fatal diseases are the worst.”
“The Normans introduced the Frugal System.”
“A quack doctor is one who looks after ducks.”
“The elementary canal is the principal vein of the body.”
“An adage is a thing to keep cats in.”
“The Statue of Liberty is in the British Museum.” (Collected by H. Cecil Hunt.)
The Heart Bowed Down.
“Oh dear, I believe I hear the train going.”
“No Mum—that's only my ‘eart breaking.”
Conducted bySheila G. Marshall
Dress and Individuality.
“My love in her attire doth show her wit It doth so well become her.”
The importance of dress to the modern woman is a subject of amazement to many—they feel that far too much time, money and energy is expended on the adornment of Eve—that clothes, as such, were originally designed for utility, and certainly not intended to assume a place of such paramount importance in our lives. These critical souls have evidently never studied the fascinating romance of dress, watched it through the ages from the filmy colourful gauzes and blazing jewels of Cleopatra to the marvellous laces, superb silks and satins which graced our “Good Queen Bess,” to the powdered hair and beauty spots of Marie Antoinette, the most beautiful woman in Europe. Surely there is romance and meaning in this pageant of fashion. Our clothes very soon abandoned their sphere of mere utility and became an expression of our individuality. Why, you have only to glance at the particular costumes affected by both men and women of a definite period, and you will learn more than their books and their histories can tell you, about the whole spirit and character of the age. One glimpse at the costumes at Versailles in the giddy days preceding the Revolution will indicate immediately the arrogant, pleasure-loving life of luxury of the French Court. Here, again, is a demure little Puritan costume (England under the great Cromwell); here, a gallant courtier resplendent in laces and satins (prosperity and luxury under Queen Elizabeth).
By the dress of a people can we see their lives, thoughts, occupations—who can say that it is of slight importance?
Nearly all our great poets have succumbed to the inspiration that lies hidden in charming clothing—from the very earliest times to the days when Herrick admired (more skilfully than the modern man) the allure of feminine garb.
“When as in silk my Julia goes, Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.”
Was “Julia's” time indeed wasted when it produced such tribute?
Passing to modern days, we find that dress is still of tremendous importance. Although our husbands do not express their admiration for the subtle general effect of our costumes by a lyric, their “By jove, you do look topping in that
In the Wellington Province.
Railway District Engineer's Office Staff, 1930.
It is true that we are somewhat slavish followers of Dame Fashion, but after all she is an expression of ourselves as a whole. We have created her for our ever-changing needs, and we grant her demands. I heard it said that at the present time fashions are so exacting that all women present very much the same appearance—this was from a man! I hastened to assure him that to the uninitiated we might appear as peas in a pod, but that if he only knew it every woman's clothes are essentially different from those of her sister. We all conform to a general standard, as we always have done from the days when what was worn at Court was worn by the community—with variations. Those two little words contain the whole secret of the “romance of dress”—each one of us adopts the prevailing fashion, expressing at the same time her own individuality. This is what you should and must do! You will never feel that perfect assurance and confidence in yourself, so necessary to your general happiness, if you cannot express yourself in your clothes. Money is useful, but not vital for this. The office girl, with her small salary, can, if she really wants to, be “individual” in her attire. If you feel, instinctively, that it doesn't suit you at all, don't wear something just because “everyone else is wearing it.” Such is mere slavish imitation. If you feel happy, and “yourself” in something, wear it, and let the world laugh if it happens to be a year behind the times. Seek to find your individuality in your clothes and make them part of yourself. An expression of you—perhaps a colour, perhaps a certain style, or even a suspicion of a perfume— all to be associated definitely with yourself.
Our ancestors in history understood the subtlety of dress, and nowadays we have reduced it to a fine art. You are not wasting your time in bestowing some thought to your clothes, and your efforts won't be wasted.
It is your duty to be as beautiful as possible, and study of dress is not by any means to be despised—rather to be cultivated, each one for herself. You are a type, unique and individual, let your clothes be likewise.
Women in General
They are difficult subjects to discuss— even to themselves they present a fascinating, an endless mystery, to be unravelled afresh at every afternoon tea and bridge party. Why is it that men very rarely talk about one another? You hear them at lunch, casually meeting on the train, waiting for a football match, at the “talkies”—anywhere and everywhere these “lords of creation” exchange their remarks for a few moments, and pass on. Masculine conversation, and it is never accompanied by a discreet lowering of the voice and a furtive glance round to ascertain whether “Mr. So and So” is well beyond ear-shot before his character may be safely dissected and universally condemned. Men simply don't bother to discuss one another—they accept what they find in their fellows and briefly bestow their praise or their scorn.
Among women it is totally different. You have only to sit near a bevy of the fair sex at afternoon tea, go to a bridge party, overhear a conversation on the tram or near you at the pictures, and you will admit that life, for most women, is an intriguing affair simply by reason of the vital interest each takes in the affairs of the other. She is not content with face values, and is for ever probing beneath the surface to discover how things really stand. “Therefore,” you will say, “woman is a better student of human nature than man—a keener observer and a more competent judge of character.” She has given the subject her earnest consideration from time immemorial—when man was too occupied with his club and spear to worry about the family in the next-door cave. It was left for his wife to make these domestic investigations, to report results to her dearest friend, and to discuss the whole affair over the preparation of meals and the consultations concerning the young. Hence was born our feminine reputation, to which we have clung faithfully for countless ages. A modern afternoon tea conversation would differ only in details from that of our ancestors gathered round their weaving in a cave!
At the present time, when woman is emerging slowly from the narrowness of the home and seeking her interests in the world of affairs—when she is beginning to take her place on an equal footing with the male—surely her conversation will change accordingly, and become more impersonal and less distressingly confidential. We certainly do not wish her to discuss politics at lunch, finance at the theatre, football on the tram, and the weather on any occasion, but she is giving every indication now of an awakening interest in important things —in general topics, world affairs—in the great rushing world hitherto dominated by her father, brother and husband. It is no longer a vast mystery to her—a seething chaos of business quite beyond her ken—but a life in which she is beginning to take an interest and assume an important position.
We do not want to lose interest in our fellow-beings, but we do want to emulate somewhat the masculine attitude of philosophic acceptance and broad-mindedness of ideas.
So much for conversations feminine—delightful, feline and frivolous—they have fled in the wake of our Victorian sisters.
Man'S Faithful Friend.
(Rly. Publicity Photo.)
An interesting camera study.
Winter is fast slipping away, and ahead lie the glorious days of spring—that magic season when the flowers appear and we begin to take a new interest in our clothes, and desire something new.
The rage for black and white, or green and white is spreading everywhere, and the effect, in the frock illustrated, is extremely smart.
Materials: Viyella is one of the nicest spring stuffs, and quite cheap; also very suitable for this two-toned effect. Make the frock from self-coloured viyella, plain style with fitting hips and semi-circular skirt (as in illustration), and the little coatee—extremely simple—from a checked viyella to match in tones. Notice the narrow checked border round the skirt hem, and the tie. A large light-weight felt hat will complete a useful outfit.
So many women become slaves to the house and its hundred and one tasks and its thousands of worries. There is so much to be done in each day, and so little time to do it that they have absolutely no time for their own pleasures and relaxations. Their lives become one long round of sweeping, cooking, mending.
It is all very well to say that your duty lies at home, that your sphere in life is to make the home happy and comfortable; how about yourself? You owe a duty to yourself as a human being who requires change of scenery, meetings with fellow creatures, freedom to think, and leisure in order that you may develop yourself. It is terribly easy to sink into a rut and to acquire a passive resignation to your lot; to let your life degenerate into an eternal routine of household tasks, and your mind into a narrow and limited affair—incapable of any consideration save that of the home. You should not make such a sacrifice. Your health, mental and physical, demands something from you.
In the first place, go out of the house for an hour at least every day, though you may feel too tired or too lazy to bother. After a morning in the kitchen you probably think that half-an-hour with a book before you start again is all that is necessary, and that a walk will only make you more exhausted. You must have change of air and surroundings every day, and you will be surprised at the difference a daily excursion of an hour will make to your general health. Exercise in the house—rushing about dusting rooms, doing the washing, scrubbing the floors—is exercise for the muscles but not for the brain and nerves. A short, brisk walk will rest you more than anything else.
If you are a gardener, an hour among the flowers will be your best tonic. While you are digging or walking, don't worry about the house and the family, think of anything else and you will come back all the more fitted to take a keen interest in their household affairs.
Workshops Social Activities
“Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dancers.”—Longfellow.
(Photos, J. V. Garvitch, Petone.)
The Social Hall at the Hutt Railway Workshops (Wellington) presented a bright and colourful scene on the occasion of the first annual staff dance, held on 3rd September. The function (thanks to the splendid arrangements made by the Social Committee for the entertainment of members and their womenfolk) was a pronounced success, and was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone present. Excellent music for the various dances was supplied by the Workshops Orchestra, under the direction of Mr. J. Bolton. The top illustration shews a flashlight photograph taken during the course of the evening, and below are shewn some of the fine decorations of the Social Hall.
Marshall
Providing for the Future
For the provision of adequate electric power in the future, very elaborate plans have been drawn up by the Swiss railway authorities. Already there is in operation a vast chain of power plants, operated largely by the fast-flowing Swiss rivers, to meet railway needs. Now new sources of supply are being tapped. In association with a large electric power undertaking, the Swiss Government Railways are to build a new hydro-electric works on the River Sihl, in the Canton of Schwyz. Here there will be a reservoir of 1,000 million cubic feet capacity, and a plant of about 110,000 horse power, working under a head of 1,600 feet. Half the cost of the plant will be borne by the railways and half by the power company.
An Appeal for Public Recognition
The Te Awamutu (Waikato) Chamber of Commerce has been actively urging the claims of the South-of-Frankton area of the North Island Main Trunk railway system for a listing of trains more likely to suit public demands and thereby secure greater patronage. A delegation from the Chamber recently conferred with the Department, and its report was considered at the last meeting of the Chamber. It was thought that the significant factors stressed in the report were of much wider importance than to the people within the immediate area affected by these representations. It was therefore decided to circularise all Chambers of Commerce in the Dominion, urging upon the business community, through their Chambers of Commerce, the pressing need for a greater patronage of the railways.
The Te Awamutu delegate to the recent conference reported to his Chamber as follows:—
The Department, I may say, placed before us all information to enable a complete investigation of the claims. One cannot fail to be impressed with the difficulties encountered by the Department in the arrangement of its traffic schedules, interwoven with which are the varying classes of traffic for which the Department has to cater. Looking on from the outside it would appear quite simple to arrange a timetable serving a given area, but when seen from the Department's records, local trains become directly involved in the planning of the main traffic service, which in their turn must make connections with all branch lines. It is well, in the consideration of every local application, to bear in mind these important facts, for we can very properly appreciate that the Department is faced with the problem of serving a very wide area.
In connection with the railway services there is one fact which I do not think can be too strongly stressed, and that is that patronage of the railways must be a vital factor in the nature of the services the Department can provide.
Therefore, it is a logical conclusion that every resident of this district who diverts his patronage to the road services makes more remote the prospect of improved railway services. I think we can concede, no matter what claims are made to the contrary, that the railways are, and must remain, the chief mode of transportation in this country, Therefore, the responsibility is on the people to determine the extent of those services. It would be indeed inconsistent for us as a Chamber to ask for improved railway facilities unless we are prepared to encourage added patronage to justify these services… What I would like to emphasise particularly, is that whereas we expect from the Department improved services, we, for our part, must be prepared to give increased patronage.
The circular goes on to suggest that every Chamber should urge the retention of traffic for the railways, so that transportation may be kept in the channel which will afford the greatest measure of advantage to the community as a whole. “We feel it would be needless to elaborate on the fact that the railway maintains its own permanent way, whereas other forms of transit have constituted a very serious drain upon the Dominion's general taxation. Nobody can estimate what the real cost is of these forms of traffic. The railways belong to the people; are conducted to serve the people, and should therefore have the full support of the people.”
“Achievement of British Genius.”
“Great as have been the beneficial changes in the life of Great Britain which the railroad has wrought, the debt of distant countries to this achievement of British genius is even greater than that of the British people themselves.”—General Dawes, American Ambassador, at the recent centenary celebration of the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway.
Modern Track-Laying Machine
(From Our London Correspondent.)
Permanent way gangs have had their work immensely simplified in recent years by the introduction of mechanical devices of one kind and another. One of the most important aids to speedy track laying ever utilised, takes the form of a special track-laying machine, one of which has just been brought into service at Home on the L. and N.E. Railway.
The machine consists of a power van, a saw trolley, a train trolley, and the track-layer proper. The power van consists of a 72 h.p. petrol-driven generating set providing the electric current for the various motors operating the track-layer, together with the necessary switchgear. The saw trolley consists of two circular saws mounted on a four-wheeled truck and so arranged that it cuts the ends of sleepers simultaneously as the track is moved along. The track-layer itself is a twelve-wheeled vehicle on which is mounted a cantilever crane. The train trolley runs not on the track itself, but on rails fixed to the wagons forming the materials train, linked together in such a way as to provide a continuous run from one end of the train to the other. The materials train is loaded at the depot with rails already fixed to chairs and sleepers, and on arrival at the site the first operation is for the saw trolley to run over it and cut the sleepers down to a uniform length, 8ft. 6in., this being done without moving the track. The fishplates joining one section of rail to the next are removed, and the cantilever on the tracklayer lifts the complete section up, places it on the train trolley, which then carries it back along the train, drops it, and returns with a new section. The new section is lowered to the track, and the whole train advances over it, and the next section is similarly dealt with. By the use of equipment such as this, track relaying is greatly simplified, and relaying costs reduced to a minimum.
“I am never tired of travelling. There is something in the rhythm of a railway train that I really like.”—Kubelik in an Interview.
Trains Which are the Envy of the World
The news that the Great Western Railway has installed Vita-Glass windows in the carriages of its long-distance trains comes as one more instance of the privileges which we as a nation enjoy, and which peoples of many other countries are denied. Our railways are the wonder and admiration of the whole world, and for all-round excellence of performance they easily stand alone (says the “Tourist”)
Nowhere in this world is it possible to travel so smoothly, so quickly and so safely as it is in this country, and probably nowhere in the world are railways so vilified and with less reason than in Britain!
The truth is that the British people, the majority of whom have little or no experience of foreign travel, do not appreciate their railways as they should do. Such trains as the Torbay Limited and the Royal Scot, for comfort, punctuality, speed and safety, stand almost alone amongst the world's great trains.
In the past few years the railways of this country have been faced by an intensive competition from the motor-coach companies and to some extent they have suffered. This latter form of transport has appealed to the travelling public, some of whom argue that the scenery of the countryside can be enjoyed much better from a motor-coach than from a train.
This is a debatable point. Our railway systems traverse some of the most beautiful stretches of country in Britain. Who could forget the glorious passage of Devon and Cornwall, of North Wales, of the Lake District, or Derbyshire.
A moment's consideration of the question of superiority between railway and motor-coach travel brings rather surprising results. As regards comfort, which is, of course, one of the primary considerations, the train most certainly has the advantage.
The wide corridors, comfortable compartments, and excellent restaurant cars of the modern long-distance train are, and must remain, unattainable on a motor-coach.
In the matter of speed, railways are again supreme, and in punctuality it must be remembered that “traffic blocks” are the prerogative of road users! In fares only are the motor-coaches really competitive.
This difference in fares, however, can be explained quite easily. The railway tracks of this country are admittedly the finest in the world, and vast sums of money are spent annually in keeping these to the required standard. The motor-coach proprietor has no responsibility of this kind, apart from his contribution to the Road Fund. He is forced, however, to take every road as he finds it. good or bad, to the consequent discomfort of his passengers on uneven surfaces.
Undoubtedly motor-coaches have their place in the transport undertakings of the country, and for short-distance travel they may by some be preferred to the railway. On the other hand, the railways should have little difficulty in holding the large majority of long-distance travellers.
A Novel Race.
A horse-swimming race across the Waikato River, at Ngaruawahia, North Island.
H. Collett
Nature is limitless in delight, stupendous in intensity! Marvel upon marvel unfolds itself. What is apparently perfection is everlastingly being improved upon to meet the exigencies of living and survival. “Mimicry” in its two forms, “protective” and “aggressive,” are beyond wonder; the result of centuries of evolution.
New Zealand, comparatively, furnishes few instances of “mimicry,” but in more tropical countries this form is most abundant. Our “stick insect” (Acanthoderus horridus) and “leaf insect” (Xiphidium maoricum) are both perfect examples. The former is more generally known than the latter; which is not only remarkably timid, but also exactly like a green leaf when quiescent. The insect's presence is advertised by a peculiar chirping note, produced by rubbing the wing cases together, sharply; but, to see or to catch it is quite another and difficult problem, for it becomes silent, motionless and invisible on being approached.
The leaf butterfly of Queensland, Australia, and many other countries, is another magnificent mimic. A flash of vivid colour arrests the eye, then … it has mysteriously vanished! Some instinct of danger has warned the insect, and it has sought sanctuary—a bush covered in dry leaves. Keen eyes indeed will be necessary to discover it …. the bush may be violently shaken, but without any result. The wings, vividly coloured on the upper surface, are, when closed, exactly like a dry leaf in shape, colour and vein markings. There the insect will sit motionless, head drawn up between the fore-wings, the “swallowtails” of the lower pair resting against a twig in perfect resemblance of a leaf-stalk. As long as the butterfly does not move it remains invisible and safe.
Apart from “mimicry” many other remarkably clever designs are utilised to conform with the paramount law of Nature—to eat and avoid being eaten! One that is really interesting in the extreme, is worthy of mention.
In the arid deserts of Africa, the centipede utilises the “prickly pear” as a means of self preservation. Before going to sleep, during the day, it constructs a circular “zareba” of small spiney portions of the plant that are fallen to the earth, the walls about an inch and a half high, enters this enclosure, closes the entrance and retires. One of the centipede's most deadly foes is the black tarantula (Niger Lacosa), and it is against this danger the “‘zareba” is made. The tarantula arrives at the dormitory and immediately seeks to find an entrance. Round and round he works in vain; but he is a “stayer” and will not abandon the enterprise.
A loud buzzing sound draws rapidly nearer and nearer—a big solitary wasp is attracted to the scene—the tables are turned—the hunter becomes the hunted! The wasp, too, instinctively knows a tarantula may be prowling round the centipede's dormitory—the great spider is necessary as an incubator for two of the eggs she has to lay.
If the tarantula has not been too engrossed in dining upon the centipede he hears the wasp's approach and loses no time in vanishing … to be seen is certain death … the winged huntress will readily follow the spider into its lair! On the other hand, should Lacosa not discover the wasp's approach in time to vanish, the shrift is indeed short. The spider is soon stung in a nerve centre, rendered comatose, and carried off to the wasp's burrow. There, two eggs are deposited just below the skin, which in due time hatch into larvae that feed on their host, pupate in the—then—empty shell, and finally emerge, as male and female imago, ready to take the nuptial flight.
Jongariro National Park
A Recent Excursion from Hamilton
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Few of New Zealand's famous “show places” offer greater attractions than Tongariro National Park, the railserved state reserve of 15,000 actes in the centre of the North Island. During the past year the Railway Department has run, at intervals, successful excursions to the Park, the most recent (from Hamilton) being featured in the above illustrations, which shew (top) the arrivalof the excursion train at National Park Station, and (below) excusionsts leaving the Chateau in service cars to join their train for Hamilton.