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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.
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.
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.
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.
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” 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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“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 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.
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.
“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.)
“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.
(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: