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        <title type="marc245">The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 9, Issue 5 (August 1, 1934)</title>
        <title type="sort">New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 09, Issue 05 (August 1, 1934)</title>
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        <pubPlace>Wellington, New Zealand</pubPlace>
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          <p>copyright 2008, by Victoria University of Wellington</p>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409681">Famous New Zealanders No. 17 John Ballance the Great Liberal Premier.</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409684">Lake Rotoroa The Sportsman's Paradise.</name>
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            <name type="person" key="name-408349">Mrs. M. P. Jenkins</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409685">Heroes Of The Maori Wars How Fifteen Victoria Crosses Were Won in New Zealand.</name>
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            <name type="person" key="name-408338">H. L. Chisholm</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409686">The Wisdom of the Maori</name>
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            <name type="person" key="name-408259">Tohunga</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409688">Among the Books A Literary Page or Two</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409689">London Underground Travel Trials and Humours in Mid-Victorian Days.</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409690">Our Women's Section Timely Notes and Useful Hints. Flower Effects.</name>
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            <name type="person" key="name-408161">Helen</name>
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            <name type="work" key="name-409691">Locomotive Development New Zealand The Fairlie Engine</name>
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        <head>
          <hi rend="c">Contents</hi>
        </head>
        <div xml:id="t1-front-d2-d1" type="section">
          <p>
            <table rows="18" cols="2">
              <row>
                <cell>Attitudes and Altitudes</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n12">12</ref>–<ref target="#n13">13</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Among the Books</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n37">37</ref>–<ref target="#n38">38</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>A Mountain of the Antipodes</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n34">34</ref>–<ref target="#n35">35</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>A World Scientist</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n6">6</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Editorial—Rewards</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n5">5</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Famous New Zealanders</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n17">17</ref>–<ref target="#n21">21</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Famous New Zealand Trials</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n24">24</ref>–<ref target="#n26">26</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Heroes of the Maori Wars</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n29">29</ref>–<ref target="#n32">32</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>In Strange Waters</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n23">23</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Lake Rotoroa</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n27">27</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Locomotive Development in N. Z.</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n46">46</ref>–<ref target="#n47">47</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>London Underground</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n39">39</ref>–<ref target="#n40">40</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>New Zealand Verse</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n16">16</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Our London Letter</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n9">9</ref>–<ref target="#n11">11</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Our Women's Section</cell>
                <cell><ref target="#n42">42</ref>–<ref target="#n45">45</ref></cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Pictures of N. Z. Life</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n15">15</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>The Wisdom of the Maori</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n33">33</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
              <row>
                <cell>Variety in Brief</cell>
                <cell>
                  <ref target="#n41">41</ref>
                </cell>
              </row>
            </table>
          </p>
          <p>The <hi rend="i">New Zealand Railways Magazine</hi> is on sale through the principal book-sellers, or may be obtained post-free for 6/- per annum.</p>
          <p>Employees of the Railway Department are invited to forward news items or articles bearing on railway affairs. The aim of contributors should be to supply interesting topical material tending generally towards the betterment of the service.</p>
          <p>In all cases where the Administration makes announcements through the medium of this journal the fact will be clearly indicated.</p>
          <p>The Department does not identify itself with any opinions which may be expressed in other portions of the publication, whether appearing over the author's name or under a <hi rend="i">nom de plume.</hi>
</p>
          <p>Short stories, poetry, pen-and-ink sketches, etc., are invited from the general public upon New Zealand subjects.</p>
          <p>Payment for short paragraphs will be made at 2d. a line. Successful contributors will be expected to send in clippings from the Magazine for assessment of the payment due to them.</p>
          <p>The Editor cannot undertake the return of MS.</p>
          <p>
            <hi rend="i">All communications should be addressed to The Editor, New Zealand Railways Magazine, Wellington.</hi>
          </p>
          <p><hi rend="i">I hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose that the circulation of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” has not been less than</hi> 20,000 <hi rend="i">copies each issue since July,</hi> 1930.</p>
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          <p><hi rend="i">Deputy-Controller and Auditor-General</hi>.</p>
          <p>
            <hi rend="i">27/9/33</hi>
          </p>
        </div>
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          <head><hi rend="c">New Zealand Place Names</hi>.</head>
          <p>Mr. Johannes C. Andersen writes on the subject of New Zealand place names, referred to by “<name type="person" key="name-207731">Tangiwai</name>” in a note in last month's “New Zealand Railways Magazine.” He objects to “<name type="person" key="name-207731">Tangiwai</name>'s” criticism of the Geographic Board's ruling regarding the form of such names as Riley's Lookout. The Board proposes to drop the apostrophe and make it Rileys Lookout, Devils Punchbowl, and so on. It is a natural trend of language. The Board favours, also, the dropping of the possessive “s” in many name where the possessive is now used; the idea is to obtain some sort of uniformity. Mr. Andersen urges that newspaper people especially should adopt the rule; the public generally would do the same, and so the change would soon come about. The Board was not trying to be arbitrary at all but only to be uniform and systematic.</p>
          <p>On the other hand, “<name type="person" key="name-207731">Tangiwai</name>,” to whom Mr. Andersen's letter was referred for his comments, contends that there should be no interference with the present written form of place-names sanctioned by long usage, correct spelling, and euphony. The deletion of the apostrophe would displease the eye and also in some cases obscure the original meaning. Exact uniformity is not practicable. No good reason has been shown for any alteration in such names as Riley's Look-out, Arthur's Pass (which was fixed as written very nearly seventy years ago by the Canterbury survey authorities), and other well-known names. “<name type="person" key="name-207731">Tangiwai</name>” also considers that before the Geographic Board decides to make alterations in place-names it should make its proposals public in the form of suggestions so that the mooted changes could be discussed by all those interested in this subject of place nomenclature. Generally, the Board has done very excellent work in recording and correcting place-names throughout the Dominion, but the cause of accuracy would be advanced in some cases by consulting the public.</p>
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              <head><hi rend="c">The Main Trunk and National Park. Told By the Camera.</hi><lb/>
The Chateau, Tongariro National Park, North Island, New Zealand.<lb/>
(Rly. Publicity photo.)<lb/>
Mt. Ngauruhoe (7,515 ft.) seen through the window at the Chateau.<lb/>
Justly famous is the Finest Walk in the World (to Milford Sound). At the Chateau Tongariro is the Finest Window in the World, framing Ngauruhoe, New Zealand's Fuji Yama. All that the sacred mountains of other countries offer in sublimity, and all the might and magic inherent in a live breathing volcano, are here found. The great Ruapehu-Tongariro mountain mass, snow-crowned, mother of rivers that run north, south, and to all points of the compass, is the heart of the North Island. The railway has brought the Tongariro National Park within a few hours of the average North Islander's home.</head>
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      <titlePage xml:id="t1-front-d2-d3">
        <docTitle>
          <titlePart type="main">
            <hi rend="c">The New Zealand<lb/>
Railways<lb/>
Magazine</hi>
          </titlePart>
        </docTitle>
        <docImprint><hi rend="i">For Better Service</hi><lb/><hi rend="i">Published by the</hi><publisher><hi rend="i">New Zealand Government Railways Department</hi></publisher><lb/><hi rend="c">Service Copy</hi><lb/>
Vol. 9. No. 5. <pubPlace><hi rend="c">Wellington</hi>, <hi rend="sc">New Zealand</hi></pubPlace> <docDate><hi rend="c">August</hi> 1, 1934</docDate>.</docImprint>
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      <pb xml:id="n5" n="5"/>
      <div xml:id="t1-body-d1" type="section">
        <head>Rewards</head>
        <p><hi rend="sc"><hi rend="i">A</hi>n</hi> inventory might be prepared of the rewards of Nature for efforts of all kinds, which would be as varied as the sands of time and as long as a modern novel. It would show “what produces what” in all matters of effort and result —how the reward of faithfulness is trust (as many a dog has proved), how the reward of successful trial is confidence (solve one sum and all of a similar kind are easy), and so on. For one thing about Nature of which we can be absolutely sure is that, it never fails to “play the game.”</p>
        <p>Man's arrangement of rewards according to effort or result is much more defective in the immediate assessment of values, but none-the-less certain in its effect over a period sufficiently long for Nature to take a hand. For example, if the prize in a race is too low, either the racing deteriorates or an alternative is sought in gambling. If it is too high, temptations of another kind occur. The prize-scale which approximates most closely to the ideal is the one in which popular approval leads to successful racing. The same principle applies through all businesses, and it is equally effective in such matters as feeding a cow or planting a paddock. Nature is not niggardly, and where the right adjustments are made the rewards are ample.</p>
        <p>Of course the application of energy for any purpose must be made with judgment to produce satisfactory results. The old-time tread-mill kept a man moving from step to step without ever ascending; a modern escalator (revolving steps of another kind) carries him upward without stepping at all.</p>
        <p>The law of compensation in Nature is now operating in favour of the railways in the gigantic transport revolution. They have gained confidence as the result of successful trial of all kinds of ways for meeting the major needs of the transport situation. They are able to use the impetus and methods of some of their own solved problems in dealing with others not yet solved. They have found the secret of how to induce people to travel by train in preference to other modes of conveyance. They are constantly improving their position in the freight field. They are now ahead in the matter of speed by land. Some of the new train speed demonstrations and schedules in England, France and the United States, seem more like the dream of a railwayman's paradise than a record of actual performances in the world of railway wheels. They are definitely —in some cases, immeasurably—ahead in the matter of comfort; and the chief advantage the road vehicle had in mobility has been overcome largely by the free use of appropriate connecting services, and the introduction of increasing variety of types (including rail cars, articulated vehicles, etc.) in the units used for the composition of trains.</p>
        <p>That the Railways of New Zealand are in popular favour is amply proved by the figures which, month by month, have been on the ascend ing scale. That favour is un doubtedly the reward of constant, well-directed effort to make the lines serve the requirements of the Dominion to the utmost extent, consistent with sound business administration and management. The people are using the railways because they want to, but they, too, have their reward in full measure; for besides good service—to which they are entitled—they receive a kind of invisible bonus in some relief of taxation, a relief made possible out of the payment of railway profits to the Treasury.</p>
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        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409673">A World Scientist<lb/> <hi rend="c">Passing of Dr. Leonard Cockayne</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person">S. H. J.</name>)</byline>
        <p>
          <hi rend="b">“Nothing great in science has ever been done by men, whatever their powers, in whom the divine afflatus of the truth-seeker was wanting.” —T. H. Huxley.</hi>
        </p>
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            <head>(S. P. Andrew, photo.)<lb/>
The late Dr. Leonard Cockayne, C. M. G.,<lb/>
F. R. S., D. Sc. (N. Z.), Ph. D.</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>The great work to which the late Dr. L. Cockayne dedicated his boundless energy and outstanding intelligence is not, and in truth can never be, finished. It has, however, been established by him on such a sure foundation that others, both among the living and from those as yet unborn, will keep alight the torch that he made blaze so brilliantly. The delay to his work that will undoubtedly result from his death is not the greatest loss—the irreparable injury is the withdrawal of that personal inspiration that always animates scientific workers in all fields when a great scientist is living in their midst.</p>
        <p>Progress in every branch of science depends on the services of two types of men. There is firstly the band of patient observers and classifiers, and secondly the directing intelligence that breathes life into the as yet dry dust of their collecting. Dr. Cockayne laboured untiringly among the first, but rode triumphantly among the world-leaders of the second. He was, by accident of environment and opportunity, a great botanist, but by virtue of his bold mentality he was pre-eminently a great scientist. His was one of the rare minds that dares to be to all things its own touchstone; if evolutionary and ecological botany had not engrossed his attention science would not have been the loser, he would inevitably have filled a creative role in some other branch of science or in literature. Even in his botany he pushed ahead into those fields where the particular merged into the general, and when the seal was attached to this fact and he was presented with the Darwin Medal, those who knew the man and his work recognised that he brought no less honour to this list of immortals than he received from his inclusion in it.</p>
        <p>The phrase “New Zealand Scientist” implies a very obvious distinction. There are those, such as Rutherford, who were born in New Zealand but whose work owes nothing to their native soil, and there are those such as Dr. Cockayne, whose work is powerfully and inevitably influenced by their association with the Dominion. It is of course impossible to belittle such men as Rutherford or Mellor, but surely it may be pardoned to us if we take a more, dare I say affectionate, pride in those whom we have not shared so impartially with the world in general, and whose work bears the impress for all time of our dearer land and sea, or, more subtly, of our fresher and more vigorous mode of thought. These are, in the truer sense, our New Zealand scientists, and among these Dr. Cockayne will live ever in the first rank.</p>
        <p>It has been said, and quite lately, that Dr. Cockayne received only a belated recognition in this Dominion. This is quite untrue in any sense that matters. His work was proudly “caviare to the general,” and in no country would he have received any more sincere and generous recognition than he was accorded in New Zealand. The private who marches in the ranks cannot, without fatuity, acclaim the leader, and the only praise that could be of value to Dr. Cockayne was ungrudgingly given him by his few New Zealand compeers. The only remark that might be made on this score is to point out that living and working in remote New Zealand formed no barrier to his full appreciation throughout the world. This is in itself a truism—the follower requires inspiration from his surroundings, the leader gives it.</p>
        <p>It is idle to speculate what different legacy Dr. Cockayne would now be leaving to the world if the special conditions he recognised around him when he came to New Zealand as a young man had not led him into the then almost untrodden fields of evolutionary botany. It is not amiss, however, to point out that some great place in literature was surely his for the asking. It is also well worthwhile pointing out that in one path of literature New Zealand can indeed claim pride of place. It did not need the “dithyrambic eloquence” of Tyndall to assure us that scientific writings need not always and perforce be expressed in involved sentences of conglomerate English and labyrinthine constructions. It is no longer the fashion for scientists to resort in desperation to dog-Latin and childish anagrams when giving their message; but one is still justified in pointing out that it would be easier for the world if many of them recognised that literature should be regarded as not the least noble branch of general science. Clear and rigid thought expressed in flowing, incisive, sonorous language must always stand for literature; and in “New Zealand Plants and Their Story,” by Dr. Cockayne, “Geomorphology of New Zealand,” by Dr. Cotton, “Jurisprudence” and “The Law of Torts” by Dr. Salmond, in the anthropological writings of Elsdon Best, in the astronomical researches of A. C. Gifford, and in the ever-delightful “Tutira” by Guthrie-Smith that so defies classification, New Zealand possesses literature of no mean standing as well as scientific work of world-wide value. It is not possible to resist the lure of quotation to prove this contention, and the following, chosen almost at random, from “New Zealand Plants and Their Story” will show what mastery Dr. Cockayne possessed over the English language and how he was one with the great Huxley in recognising that “science and literature are not two things, but two sides of one thing.”</p>
        <p>“For the plant-historians here, and the plant-questioners, have been but few in number; nor at any time have they been properly equipped for their work, either with books, instruments, or the all important money. But, as will be seen, they were furnished with what is better than all—love for their self-appointed tasks and true enthusiasm, armed with which success is certain. And surely that enthusiasm was fully justified, for the flora of New Zealand is remarkable enough—nay, “remarkable” is too weak a word for a plant population which can boast of including amongst its members the largest buttercup in the world, a forget-me-not with leaves as big as those of rhubarb, a speedwell 40 feet in height, the smallest member of the pine-tree family, tree-like daisies, aborescent lilies, plants of the carrot family with stiff leaves sharp as bayonets, mosses more than a foot tall, a brown seaweed hundreds of feet in length, and those strange anomalies of the plant-world, the vegetable sheep.” —<hi rend="i">New Zealand Plants and Their Story, p.</hi> 2.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n7" n="7"/>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05RailP002a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05RailP002a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05RailP002a-g"/>
            <head><hi rend="c">Thrilling Sport on “The Finest Ski-Run in the World.”</hi><lb/>
Mr, Barry Caulfeild, Principal of the Mt. Cook Ski School, demonstrating to pupils the art of ski-ing on the Ball Glacier, Mt. Cook, South Island, New Zealand. (1) and (7) Mr. Caulfeild executing a graceful turn; (2) the fascinating kea; (3) and (4) High School girls receiving a lesson; (5) Mr. Caulfeild; (6) mountain flora, the edelweiss; (inset) mountain daisies; (8) instructing the method of position for a turn; (9) general view of the ski-ing feild.</head>
          </figure>
          <pb xml:id="n8" n="8"/>
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          </figure>
        </p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n9" n="9"/>
      <div decls="#text-1-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d3" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409674"><hi rend="c">Our London Letter</hi><lb/><hi rend="c">Expanding Railway Business</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>by <name type="person" key="name-407992">Arthur L. Stead</name>
</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d1" type="section">
          <p><hi rend="sc">Optimism</hi> is now the order of the day throughout the Home railwayworld. Both passenger and freight business continue to expand, and special measures are being taken by the four group railways to meet the improving situation. The staple industries, like those of coal-mining and iron and steel manufacture, have got into their stride again. Freight traffic receipts week by week register welcome increases, while on the passenger side takings everywhere are appreciably swelling.</p>
          <p>Large numbers of employees in the traffic, locomotive and engineering departments, laid off during the slump, are being re-instated; and experienced trainmen who were loaned to other branches for less skilled duties, are being put back on their regular jobs. Locomotives which for long have been standing idle are once again being brought into traffic, and altogether the outlook for railways and railwaymen alike is decidedly propitious.</p>
          <p>An interesting featurè of the present business revival is the heightened activity witnessed in the advertising and canvassing sections of the group lines. Ambitious publicity campaigns are now being conducted by each of the four leading railways, while passenger and freight canvassing is proceeding intensively throughout the country.</p>
          <p>Not content with covering Britain thoroughly, the railways are moving further afield in the search for new business. Recently joint advertising and canvassing offices have been opened by the four groups in Paris and New York respectively. The staffs of these bureaux have been carefully selected from the railway personnel, and the members have been specially trained and have extensive personal knowledge of Britain's attractions in the holiday field, as well as its industrial needs and potentialities. The bureaux work in the closest association with the foreign railways and steamship companies, and a feature is made of combined bookings by rail, sea and road to and from any point in Britain.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d2" type="section">
          <head>Railway Improvements in France.</head>
          <p>The intimate working arrangements in operation between the English and French railways render of especial interest a most comprehensive improvement plan just launched by the French Ministry of Public Works. This plan involves the spending of something like #35,000,000 on railway betterments during the next eight years, and covers almost every branch of railway engineering and operation.</p>
          <p>First of all the overhaul of the whole of the French signalling system is to be undertaken. Then, the quadrupling of many of the principal main traffic arteries, and the reconstruction of the principal freight marshalling yards is to be tackled. The Paris passenger termini are to be enlarged and brought into line with modern requirements, while much station rebuilding is to be undertaken in the provinces. Steel passenger carriages are to be built to replace existing wooden stock, and new freight cars of special design are to be introduced. The abolition of level-crossings is another aim, while last but not least there is to be a complete overhaul of the train despatching arrangements throughout the country. Railway transport in France already attains a very high standard. On the completion of the new betterment plan France will be the happy owner of a railway system second to none throughout Europe.</p>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail009a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail009a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail009a-g"/>
              <head>Scotch Expresses leaving King's Cross Station, London.</head>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d3" type="section">
          <head>Conversion to Electric Traction.</head>
          <p>In Europe many of the principal railways are firm believers in electrification's future, and Switzerland, in particular, offers a fine example of the increased efficiency and economy secured through the conversion of existing steam-operated lines to electric traction.</p>
          <p>A most striking feature of Swiss electrification is the employment of electric locomotives with “one-man” operation. Out of 525 electric locomotives in service in Switzerland, 353 are equipped with the familiar safety device known as the “dead-man's handle,” rendering them suitable for one-man operation. Forty-eight per cent. of the Swiss electric services today are worked by locomotives having only one man in the cab, a plan which is said to result in a saving of about #200,000 per annum.</p>
          <p>A further improvement now being introduced takes the form of the “Signum” system of automatic train control. Should a driver run past a distant signal at danger, an optical signal appears in the locomotive cab. After a further 165ft. have been covered an audible signal follows. If the driver still fails to observe the warning, a special
<pb xml:id="n10" n="10"/>
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<pb xml:id="n11" n="11"/>
whistle comes into operation and the air-brake is automatically applied. Special apparatus like this is naturally expensive at the outset, but in course of time the initial expenditure is more than off-set by resultant savings.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d4" type="section">
          <head>The Modern Roadbed.</head>
          <p>Sound roadbed and track form the very basis of efficient railway operation. The modern steel rail is a very different affair from the crude track of pioneering days, and permanent-way folk all over the world may rightly take pride in their contribution to railway progress. Just now a good deal of thought is being given to the problem of increasing rail life, and in Britain several worth-while devices are being tried out with this aim in view.</p>
          <p>Reduction of wear by wheel flanges on the side of the rail-head is being effected by the employment of oilboxes, mounted on the sleepers against the outer rail approaching curves, and lubricating the periphery of the wheel. On sharp curves special lubricators are installed to prevent check rail wear. Wear on frog and wing rails in busy crossings is met by the employment of special springs, which not only give increased track life but also ensure smoother travel. Familiar to all is the utilisation of manganese steel for railway purposes. Manganese steel rails are proving most durable at Home, and the majority of the busiest points and crossings are now laid with this special steel. One of the earliest junction installations of this character was that at Newcastleon-Tyne, on the L. and N.E. line. This consists of 92 manganese steel crossings and rails, covering 77 intersections. The total length of the junction is 141ft., width overall 58ft. 6in., and total weight 70 tons.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d5" type="section">
          <head>The Railways of Norway.</head>
          <p>Exactly eighty years ago there was opened for traffic the first Norwegian railway, an event which is being appropriately celebrated by the State Railway authorities of this picturesque European land. To-day the Norwegian Government lines run 2,500 route miles, the 4ft. 8 ½in. gauge system comprising a network of lines radiating from the capital, Oslo. The Oslo-Bergen route carries the heaviest traffic, and the 306 mile journey between the two points named is covered in thirteen hours. Between the stations of Voss and Myrdal, on this route, no less than twenty-five tunnels are encountered, the longest being the Gravehals Tunnel (17,421ft.), which took twelve years to construct.</p>
          <p>The average speed of passenger trains in Norway is 40 m.p.h. Passenger carriages are mainly of the compartment type, and sleeping-cars are also of this design. Dining-cars are run on the principal main-line services. By the time this letter appears in print Norway will be thronged with tourists eager to witness that awe-inspiring natural spectacle, the “Midnight Sun.” At this season, the sun at midnight lingers above the horizon, turning the weeks before and after the summer solstice into one long unending day.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d6" type="section">
          <head>Russian Railway Progress.</head>
          <p>Recent advices from Moscow tell of the complete reorganisation of the Russian railway system. The former thirteen departments in the so-called People's Commissariat for Transport have been superseded by eight new sections, political, operating, commercial, locomotive, rolling-stock, permanent-way, signalling, and new works respectively. The management has been decentralised with divisional control, and big cuts made in the headquarters staffs.</p>
          <p>Independent eye-witnesses who have recently returned from Russia all pay tribute to the progress that is being made in main-line railway construction. At the moment work is being begun upon the building of a further 6,000 miles of additional track, while big electrification schemes are also in progress, embracing over 3,000 miles of existing steam-operated track. It is planned to increase the Russian locomotive stocks of all types from 19,500 to 24,500, and about 250,000 additional freight wagons are to be built by the close of 1937. In her railway rehabilitation programme, Russia is being aided by skilled American engineers and operating officers.</p>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail011a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail011a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail011a-g"/>
              <head>Kerstelenbach viaduct on the Swiss State Railways.</head>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d3-d7" type="section">
          <head>Fast New Trains in Holland.</head>
          <p>The introduction some time ago on the German railways of the heavy-oil operated “Flying Hamburger” passenger train between Berlin and Hamburg created something of a sensation. Following the success of this novel train, some forty new trains of somewhat similar design are to be introduced on the State Railways of Holland. Like the “Flying Hamburger,” the new Dutch trains are designed on streamlined principles, and they will be capable of speeds up to 87 m.p.h.</p>
          <p>Each train will be formed of three articulated carriages, mounted on four bogies. Two hundred feet in length, the weight of each train is being kept down through the use of aluminium to 75 tons. A complete train of three vehicles will accommodate 176 passengers, and at the outset the new stock is to be employed in fast service between Amsterdam, Utrecht and Arnheim. Thirty-five of the new Dieselelectric train sets are being equipped with two 410 h.p. engines, and the remaining five sets will each have two 375 h.p. engines. While Holland is taking up this new idea enthusiastically it is interesting to note that in Germany three additional expresses of an improved “Flying Hamburger” type are to be introduced for use on the Berlin-Dresden and Berlin-Leipzig routes.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n12" n="12"/>
      <div decls="#text-2-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d4" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409675">
              <hi rend="c">Attitudes and Altitudes</hi>
            </name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(Perpetrated and Illustrated by <name type="person" key="name-408002"><hi rend="c">Ken Alexander</hi></name>.)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1" type="section">
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d1" type="section">
            <head>Persistence and Desistance.</head>
            <p><hi rend="sc">A Psychological</hi> shandy of Persistence and Desistance is the elixir of existence, as the Wise wot. For when to desist is as important to impress as where to persist. In truth, forsooth, desistance is a part of persistence, as practised by the prescient, and interludes of idleness or delapses of desistance constitute a correct attitude to Altitude, when applied to the heights of Ambition.</p>
            <p>For Life is mainly a matter of attitudes and altitudes, and a lofty mental altitude minus a mellow mental attitude is fallacious flying in a blizzard of blunders which can only end in a crash on the peaks of Parnassus.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d2" type="section">
            <head>The Loftiness of Lowliness.</head>
            <p>But humility (without servility) is an attitude towards Altitude which hits the high spots without actual aiming Lofty thought and lowly feeling are the brothers of the Big, who are tall enough to think among the stars with their feet firmly on the earth. They can as easily stoop to lift a wingless wasp as they can reach to pluck intellectual ice-blooms from Himalayan heights.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d3" type="section">
            <head>The Synthetically Sapient.</head>
            <p>Conversely, the synthetically sapient enthrone their ego on a puff of pigment vapour which the temperature of Time transmutes—and down they drop to the dust from which their own breath blew them. They are mental contortionists who, by looking at life from between their own ankles, imagine that they are as tall as they make themselves.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d4" type="section">
            <head>Heroes in Homespun.</head>
            <p>But Greatness is graded, and there exists a humbler brand, which is the grim greatness of the Great Unsung.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d5" type="section">
            <head>The Great Unsung.</head>
            <lg type="verse">
              <l>The truly Great can never grate</l>
              <l>Or juggle with their fellows' fate;</l>
              <l>Their thoughts are high enough, but mellow,</l>
              <l>And aim to help the lesser fellow.</l>
              <l>Of greatness there are sundry kinds.</l>
              <l>But chiefly two concern our minds—</l>
              <l>The Great whose greatness Fame has sown,</l>
              <l>And those who're great but lesser known.</l>
              <l>These lesser Great perhaps can claim</l>
              <l>The privilege of greater fame</l>
              <l>Because, unsung by bard or poet,</l>
              <l>They're great because they never know it.</l>
              <l>The common folk who, day by day,</l>
              <l>Just do their jobs and pay their way</l>
              <l>The widowed “char” whose job is done</l>
              <l>Before the East presents the sun,</l>
              <l>The man who got a scurvy deal</l>
              <l>From Fate, and yet declines to squeal;</l>
              <l>The sick who carry on; the sticker;</l>
              <l>The “game,” the gay, the anti-kicker;</l>
              <l>The jester who can raise a quip</l>
              <l>When Luck has given him the slip;</l>
              <l>The “failure” who has tried and lost</l>
              <l>But doesn't stop to count the cost;</l>
              <l>The old and battered —laid aside—</l>
              <l>Who've kept their courage and their pride,</l>
              <l>They're here and there and everywhere,</l>
              <l>The people who defy despair—</l>
              <l>The great unsung, the common Great</l>
              <l>Of whom no future scribe will prate;</l>
              <l>The Little-big, the Fate-defying,</l>
              <l>Who fight and lose and keep on trying;</l>
              <l>The great who never reach for Fame</l>
              <l>Or know the meaning of the name,</l>
              <l>The humble Great whose lives are writ</l>
              <l>
                <hi rend="i">In simple words—“They did their bit.</hi>
              </l>
            </lg>
            <p>Not that the heroes in homespun desire us to step on the sob-stuff. They take what they can when and where they can, if they can, and they “can” the cant if they can't. To such as these Fame means weighing their pay and paying their way.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d6" type="section">
            <head>Bread and Stones.</head>
            <p>But what is Fame, anyway? It is not notoriety, which is a gas balloon which rises swiftly and explodes in the rarefied realms of just judgment. Fame is found where notoriety is not sought —notoriety is sought where Fame is not found.</p>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail012a">
                <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail012a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail012a-g"/>
                <head>“By looking at life from between their own ankles, imagine that they are as tall as they make themselves.”</head>
              </figure>
              <pb xml:id="n13" n="13"/>
              <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail013a">
                <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail013a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail013a-g"/>
                <head>“Fame is often accidental.”</head>
              </figure>
            </p>
            <p>Many of the famous dead would be amazed to learn that they were famous. In life they simply did what they did— simply. For genius and simplicity, greatness and modesty, high thinking and lowly living, seem to be twin twiners on the tree of knowledge. Fame, as fame, has seldom promoted personal prosperity. It is always incidental and often accidental. It usually comes when the one it concerns most is most unconcerned about it. For, what is a sunset to the blind? What is a song to the deaf? What is fame to the dead? In truth, Fame and the Phoenix both arise from ashes.</p>
            <p>And justly so; for the really great usually anticipate Time, so that only those living after they are dead are qualified to assess their lives.</p>
            <p>Was Shakespeare accepted as a genius by his generation or did the elevated elements of the Elizabethan era regard him more or less as a mad mummer? Did William Blake, the artist-poet, have to die to “live?” Was Aristotle appreciated by his age or was he harried for “high-hatting” the hoi polloi? The answer is written on the pavements of Progress.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d7" type="section">
            <head>The Stock-pot of Posterity.</head>
            <p>Greatness is not a negotiable commercial commodity because it flouts the fond fallacies of the grated majority, which will only agree that—that which is must always be, because it is. Thus the great must always wait for their greatness to find flavour in the stockpot of Posterity.</p>
            <p>
              <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail013b">
                <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail013b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail013b-g"/>
              </figure>
            </p>
            <p>Many of the great to whom statues have been erected after death would no doubt have preferred bread while alive. The ghosts of the great might reasonably complain. “We asked for bread and you gave us a stone.” Greatness, like golf, demands that you “hole in” before you “hole out.” It seems unjust that those who leave the most when they go, often get the least while they're here.</p>
            <p>But do they? Not while every man's mind is his empire and his thoughts are his sun—unless they are a frost.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d8" type="section">
            <head>Mining the Mind.</head>
            <p>For the mind is the one gift of the gods which man can call his own. He may have to say what he's told to say, but he can think what he likes. He can live in his mind, he can share it, he can speak it (if he's rich enough), he can give it away, or he can sell it for a crust. He can feed it on wisdom or wish-wash, humour or husks, triumph or tripe. He can listen to it or talk it to death. He can use it for prophecy or profitry. He can lift himself with it or down himself by it.</p>
          </div>
          <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d1-d9" type="section">
            <head>To-day's the Day!</head>
            <p>But the Great have always lived <hi rend="i">with</hi> it rather than <hi rend="i">by</hi> it. They have cultivated it rather than captivated it. They have treated it rather as a star boarder than a life tenant.</p>
            <p>But none <hi rend="i">sought</hi> fame; it found them. Fame is a posthumous pronouncement and as such, is of less value for raising a loan than a conscience.</p>
            <lg type="verse">
              <l>Fame? What is Fame but a name?</l>
              <l>It can't be a gift, for a gift is received</l>
              <l>By someone—unless by the word we're deceived.</l>
              <l>For Fame seldom comes 'til the famous are dead—</l>
              <l>Their fame takes their place when their egos are sped;</l>
              <l>And so, proving Fortune a mischievous dame,</l>
              <l>The famous themselves seldom sample their fame.</l>
              <l>But what does it matter to them when they're dead?</l>
              <l>In life they would rather have jam on their bread.</l>
            </lg>
            <p>And so, methinks, it is better to laugh and to <hi rend="i">live,</hi> and let the dead dust of what might be, float forward into the limbo of Posterity. To-day is to-day but tomorrow might never come—and where will all the post-dated great of to-day be then? 'Tis better to make sure of happiness to-day than to gamble on greatness to-morrow.</p>
          </div>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d4-d2" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Cleaner Travelling</hi>.</head>
          <p>For some months past the Railways have been trying out a new form of matting in several of the Main Trunk Express cars. These mats are a New Zealand product of a link design, and any dirt is caught in the interstices of the mat, making it almost impossible for it to be tramped or blown through the carriages.</p>
          <p>The matting is soft and silent to walk upon, and in those cars where it has been tried it has been favourably commented upon by people walking through the carriages.</p>
          <p>The Victorian Railways have used these mats for a number of years, with complete satisfaction, and it will be interesting to hear the further comments of New Zealand railwaymen and railway passengers on the greater cleanliness of travelling which it is considered this matting now makes possible.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
          <pb xml:id="n14" n="14"/>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail014a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014a-g"/>
            </figure>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014b">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail014b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014b-g"/>
            </figure>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014c">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail014c.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail014c-g"/>
            </figure>
          </p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n15" n="15"/>
      <div decls="#text-3-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d5" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409676">
              <hi rend="c">Pictures Of New Zealand Life</hi>
            </name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-207731"><hi rend="c">Tangiwai</hi></name>.)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d5-d1" type="section">
          <head>Our National Flower.</head>
          <p><hi rend="sc">A Vote</hi> recently taken by the Wellington Horticultural Society, at its annual meeting, on the question of New Zealand's choice of a national flower resulted in the kowhai heading the list. The native flowers next in order were the pohutukawa, manuka, clematis and rata. This order of favouritism, I think, fairly represents the general opinion on the subject. There are strong arguments in the golden kowhai's favour. It possesses a distinctiveness of form and a vividness of colour superior to all the others, qualities that make it eminently suitable for pictorial use. Although it is in bloom for only a short period of the year (that is, the yellow kowhai: the red variety, the kowhai-ngutu-kaka flowers for several months), it is a familiar feature of the landscape in most parts of New Zealand, and it is not a frail and delicate bush-fairy like the clematis. It adorns alike the banks of the Wanganui River and the shores of Lake Taupo and Lake Wakatipu, and it is far hardier than it looks. It is the graceful drooping habit of its flowers as much as their heartening gaiety of colour that sets the yellow kowhai as a decorative emblem high above all other members of our flora.</p>
          <p>It is time we adopted a national flower, not alone for the artistic appeal which such a thing of beauty gives, but for its definite value as a patriotic emblem and a kind of totem or badge distinctive of New Zealand products. The fern-frond and the kiwi are already well known in the outside world as exclusively New Zealand emblems. The flax-bush has long been the distinguishing badge of our Survey Department. It typifies the open lands. the work of the pioneer and pathfinder. The kowhai stands for beauty, goddess of the bush. The pendant bunches of bloom, with a tui or a bellbird balancing itself on the sprays as it sucks the nectar make the loveliest spring-time sight our forests and our parks can give us, in the too-brief season of bush flowers.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d5-d2" type="section">
          <head>Landscape Glory and the Artist.</head>
          <p>Much as has been written about Milford Sound, the crowning feature of our Fiordland, and much as it has been photographed, I have often felt that it will never receive its full measure of justice until some artist of genius captures on canvas its strange and overpowering beauty. It is a place that can never be exaggerated by the painter. There are cliffs there, iceshaved walls, that go straight up for three-quarters of a mile, and that in a place where the sea-canyon is barely a third of a mile wide and the dark water more than a thousand feet deep. That amazing pinnacle Mitre Peak is a mile high. I have been reading again an eloquent address given a few years ago, on the subject of Mount Everest, by Lieut.-Colonel Sir Francis Young-husband, the President of the Royal Geographical Society, which can be given a New Zealand application. The great traveller said:</p>
          <p>“The geography of Mount Everest and its vicinity will not be complete until it has been painted by some great painter and described by some great poet. Making the most accurate map of it will not be completing our knowledge of it. The map-maker only prepares the way—in some cases for the soldier or the politician or the engineer —in this case for the geologist, the naturalist, and above all for the painter and the poet. Until we have a picture and a poem—in prose or verse—of Mount Everest we shall not really know it; our geography will be incomplete, and indeed will lack its chief essential.”</p>
          <p>Younghusband expressed, too, the feeling some of us have experienced when looking at photographs of beautiful and grand mountain scenes and such places of huge landscape features as Milford. He said he almost wept to see—referring to certain superb photographs of the Himalayas—“how little of the real character of great mountains they communicate to us.”</p>
          <p>One has seen some beautiful photographs of Fiordland landscapes, but the distinctive grandeur of Milford, its hugeness of dimensions and the overwhelming straightness of its granite walls, and grimness with all a rich and glowing colour, are qualities that elude the best camera. The artist's pencil and brush are needed to convey in full the impression that the Sound scenery makes on the mind of the beholder, a barbaric beauty that is deepened by certain atmospheric conditions. We need a Van der Velden to show Milford as it is when, for example, the shadows of coming storms give the place a terrible glory, or again when the mists are lifting after heavy rain and when the grey and green precipices are silver-laced everywhere with cascades and rainbow-lit veils of spray.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d5-d3" type="section">
          <head>The Whalers.</head>
          <p>Centenary celebrations are rather numerous just now; the most important of all will be upon us in 1940. But there is one feature of New Zealand life that touched its first century a good many years ago, and that is the shore whaling enterprise. There is a wonderful story of adventure and seastress and toil bound up in the whale-chasing and oil-getting industry in these islands, which dates back to the early part of the last century. Over at Tory Channel, the bay station at Te Awaiti has been steadily sending out its whale-hunting boats every season since about 1820. The methods have changed; but the descendants of the old-time hearties arc there still, and they risk all weathers in Cook Strait just as their sailor forefathers did, though they have improved upon the primitive means and back-breaking toil of the era of hand-hurled harpoons and the weary oar. A recent report from Te Awaiti gave a tally of thirteen whales as the catch for May and June.</p>
          <p>Up in the Far North the old station of Whangamumu still operates. But times are not what they were, the wholesale massacre of whales in the Antarctic by the Norwegians and other fleets of gun-armed killers has its inevitable effect on the numbers of the big “fish” about the New Zealand coast.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n16" n="16"/>
      <div xml:id="t1-body-d6" type="section">
        <head>
          <hi rend="c">New Zealand Verse</hi>
        </head>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d6-d1" type="section">
          <head>
            <title level="a">
              <name type="work" key="name-409677">Old Mother Hubbard.</name>
            </title>
          </head>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>See this old woman, feeble and outworn?</l>
            <l>Her withered brow, her countenance forlorn?</l>
            <l>Whose weary eyes, too spiritless for tears,</l>
            <l>Reflect the dismal burden of her years?</l>
            <l>Whose faltering footsteps seem to tread the way</l>
            <l>That leads to obsolescence and decay?</l>
            <l>A woman old and destitute, and yet</l>
            <l>Not too much so to keep a household pet.</l>
            <l>Observe the scene more closely, and you see</l>
            <l>A member of the canine family,</l>
            <l>His tail between his miserable legs</l>
            <l>And in his eye a mute appeal, that begs</l>
            <l>So humbly, as to some faint hope it clings—</l>
            <l>A look that seems to say so many things.</l>
            <l>And as he crouches meekly at her feet,</l>
            <l>Pathetically asks “When do we eat?”</l>
            <l>His mistress' eyebrow quivers with remorse</l>
            <l>And croaks she, inarticulate and hoarse,</l>
            <l>How now there, sweet my Fido, what's to do?</l>
            <l>What is it that so sorely troubles you?</l>
            <l>The creature's face lights up, and then with care</l>
            <l>Assuming his expression of despair,</l>
            <l>Endeavours with comparative success</l>
            <l>To register nutritional distress.</l>
            <l>Ah. who to such entreaty could be blind?</l>
            <l>His pleading message penetrates her mind,</l>
            <l>That weary frame he drags along the floor</l>
            <l>And follows her towards the pantry door.</l>
            <l>Alas! How many castles in the air,</l>
            <l>Transparent hopes, ephemerally fair.</l>
            <l>When sweetest and most exquisite they seem</l>
            <l>Turn out as but a broken, shattered dream?</l>
            <l>The darkest hour is just before the dawn</l>
            <l>(A statement as absurd as it is worn):</l>
            <l>So might we not untruthfully remark,</l>
            <l>The brightest hour is just before the dark.</l>
            <l>'Tis thus our Fido signals in his joy</l>
            <l>The prospect of a tasty saveloy,</l>
            <l>'Tis thus his mistress, pity in her heart,</l>
            <l>Promises him a wealth of apple tart.</l>
            <l>Imagine then the feelings of the pair</l>
            <l>On finding that the larder shelf is bare.</l>
            <l>“O Hunger,” sighs the dog, “here is thy sting,</l>
            <l>No saveloy nor tart nor anything.</l>
            <l>If music is the Food of Love, play on—</l>
            <l>All traces of material food arc gone.</l>
            <l>O Fate, how would thy cruelty to-day</l>
            <l>Provoke the wrath of our S.P.C.A.?”</l>
            <byline>—<name type="person">R.G.P.</name>
</byline>
          </lg>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d6-d2" type="section">
          <head>
            <title level="a">
              <name type="work" key="name-409678">Queenstown.</name>
            </title>
          </head>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>Long years ago this lakeside town has known</l>
            <l>The frenzied quest for gold, the turbulent</l>
            <l>And fevered days of gold when seekers came</l>
            <l>And founded here their tented settlement.</l>
            <l>Yet though those times are laid away in sleep</l>
            <l>Long and long ago, the golden days.</l>
            <l>Great golden days, remain as heritage</l>
            <l>When sunshine floods adown the alpine ways</l>
            <l>To where the waters of the lake lie deep</l>
            <l>And blue as summer skies of Maori land.</l>
            <l>This lake, wherein at times lie mirrored all</l>
            <l>The wealth of splendour that a master hand</l>
            <l>Has woven into mountain, snow and sky</l>
            <l>In intermingled light and shade until</l>
            <l>Enchantment and tranquility are made</l>
            <l>As one and all is hushed and clear and still.</l>
            <l>Sub-alpine nights in vestal clarity</l>
            <l>Of starry skies close down the golden day</l>
            <l>Whilst towering battlements stand sentinel</l>
            <l>Inviolate against time's slow decay.</l>
            <l>The seasons march upon their way, they merge</l>
            <l>And change along the slow-revolving year,</l>
            <l>Yet ever with her queenly grace, this town,</l>
            <l>This regal town, this Queenstown of the clear</l>
            <l>Wide southern skies shall keep her open court,</l>
            <l>Here taking tribute from the majesty Of mountain lands, and here in her own realm</l>
            <l>Transcending grandeur to sublimity.</l>
            <byline>—“<name type="person">Winsh.</name>”</byline>
          </lg>
        </div>
        <div decls="#text-4-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d6-d3" type="section">
          <head>
            <title level="a">
              <name type="work" key="name-409679">New Zealand River.</name>
            </title>
          </head>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>Over! Over! Over!</l>
            <l>Over and ended the dream by the river.</l>
            <l>Born of the rain</l>
            <l>Held by the wind</l>
            <l>Heavy with scent of white field clover.</l>
            <l>Twisting and turning</l>
            <l>The blue of the river,</l>
            <l>Lupin and fescue and broom together,</l>
            <l>Snared the feet and the heart together,</l>
            <l>Tore my heart</l>
            <l>As it never was torn</l>
            <l>By anyone guised as a human lover.</l>
            <l>Treefoil and gorse! Ah, the seas of yellow</l>
            <l>Guarded and banded by seas of willow…‥</l>
            <l>Leave my heart lest it break forever,</l>
            <l>Leave my heart as I leave forever …</l>
            <l>Call me not to the fields of clover—</l>
            <l>Because of the dream—it is ended and over.</l>
            <byline><name type="person" key="name-408041">M. Lynn Gurney</name>.</byline>
          </lg>
        </div>
        <div decls="#text-5-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d6-d4" type="section">
          <head>
            <title level="a">
              <name type="work" key="name-409680">Jealousy</name>
            </title>
          </head>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>My friend and I were both enamoured</l>
            <l>Of your subtle, proud allure;</l>
            <l>You seemed, upon your pedestal,</l>
            <l>Beyond our reach, secure.</l>
            <l>But while I tarried, hesitant.</l>
            <l>My friend more recklessly</l>
            <l>Rushed in and claimed you. Oh, my dear!</l>
            <l>I watched you jealously.</l>
            <l>And when at length I turned away.</l>
            <l>My heart seemed made of ice.</l>
            <l>I'd lost you, darling hat, because</l>
            <l>I could not pay your price.</l>
          </lg>
          <byline><name type="person" key="name-408321">Margaret Wynne</name>.</byline>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n17" n="17"/>
      <div decls="#text-6-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d7" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409681">Famous New Zealanders<lb/> No. 17 <hi rend="c">John Ballance the Great Liberal Premier</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(<hi rend="i">Written for the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” by <name type="person" key="name-207731"><hi rend="c">James Cowan</hi></name>.</hi>)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d1" type="section">
          <p>
            <hi rend="b">The Hon. John Ballar.ce (1839–1893) was one of several great Irishmen who took leading parts in the political drama of New Zealand. He came to the Colony in the mid-Sixties; he became a vigorous newspaper writer; he served in the Colonial military forces in the Maori War, as a cavalryman; he gave his country many years of service in Parliament, and he died in the midst of his labours as Premier, when he was only fifty-four. He was the most progressive statesman of his day in Liberal legislation, following on Sir George Grey's impassioned advocacy of the people's rights, and on his death his policy was continued and extended by his colleague and comrade, Richard Seddon. Ballance was a victim of overwork and neglect of self in the country's interest; so, too, Seddon, thirteen years later, died because he preferred strenuous public toil to the rest he needed.</hi>
          </p>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail017a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail017a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail017a-g"/>
              <head>John Ballance</head>
            </figure>
          </p>
          <p><hi rend="sc">No</hi> better colonists ever set foot on New Zealand shores than the men from the North of Ireland. Two typical pioneers from that part of the British Isles were John Ballance and William F. Massey. They differed greatly in temperament, training and political creed and outlook: they were alike in their honesty of purpose, their tireless industry, their efforts to leave their country the better for their presence in it. Ballance was the adventurous progressive type; he saw far ahead of his time; he was a champion of the common right of all to a share in the source of all wealth—land; he advocated the rights of labour, the rights of women to the franchise, the bettering of social conditions for the mass of workers and their families. He led the Opposition against a strongly entrenched Conservative administration; when success came at last, fortythree years ago, he gathered into his Cabinet a band of men who after his untimely death carried on his crusade that turned the world's eyes on New-Zealand as the most advanced of all lands in State experiments for the public betterment.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d2" type="section">
          <head>Early Life in Ireland and England.</head>
          <p>John Ballance was born at Glenavy, County Antrim, on March 27, 1839. His father, Samuel Ballance, was a tenant farmer on Lord Hertford's estate. He had no opportunity of following up his education in a National primary school with a college or university course. He was apprenticed to an ironmonger when he left school, and in this occupation he removed to Birmingham, where he spent eight years. There he was in the heart of the Radical movement, and also in the midst of the new progressive crusade which was filling the youth of the great industrial places with a craving for self-improvement. That was where he began to develop his powers of expression in public debate. He read much; he exercised body as well as brain and while he learned to use the English tongue with accuracy and force he became also a skilful boxer in the gymnasium. It was in Birmingham, therefore, in one way and another, that his real training for life's work began.</p>
          <p>With this activity of mind and muscle there came presently a desire to see more of the world than his life in Birmingham afforded, and he read of the British colonies and the possibilities there for young men of spirit, as the old phrase went. He decided to emigrate to Australia, and took passage in a sailing ship for Melbourne. That was in 1866, when he was twenty-seven years old.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d3" type="section">
          <head>Pioneer Life at Wanganui.</head>
          <p>Victoria did not hold him long. He crossed to New Zealand with the intention of becoming a sheep-farmer. The Wanganui district was his selected field, but being without capital or experience he quickly realised that the life of the wool-grower was not for him. In England he had acquired the taste for writing, and especially controversial writing, which naturally follows upon a course of debating-society activities. In Wanganui he saw an opportunity of engaging in journalism as editor-proprietor, and he started a newspaper, the “Wanga- nui Heralri,” in which he was able to give full play to his steadily growing talent for self-expression with the pen. He had more than the gift of expression; he had ideas and ideals; his leading articles brought a healing breath of salt and fire into the community. So he began the campaign of agitation for political and social reform which before long carried him into the Legislature.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d4" type="section">
          <head>The Cavalryman.</head>
          <p>In the meantime there was a call for action in another field, the great adventure of military life. The Maori Wars were on; there was enlisting and drilling, and all the stir and thrill of soldiering. Titokowaru and his Hauhaus, having defeated Colonel Whitmore at Moturoa, towards the end of 1868, were raiding down the Coast; at one time they were within a day's march of Wanganui town. John Ballance was prominent in the
<pb xml:id="n18" n="18"/>
formation of the Wanganui Cavalry, a troop which with the Kai-iwi Cavalry, composed chiefly of settlers and their sons, gave excellent service on the frontier of those days. Lieutenant (afterwards Captain) Finnimore commanded the Wanganui troop, in which John Ballance enlisted.</p>
          <p>Lieutenant John Bryce was appointed to the command of the Kai-iwi troop. Ballance and Bryce were two men destined to fill important places in their country's councils. Bryce was an experienced farmer and frontiers-man, and he was naturally well quailfied as leader of a mounted corps. Ballance being a tyro in colonial life was content with the rank of a trooper; but after some weeks of training and a skirmish at Nukumaru, he became corporal and later was promoted to cornet—a junior commissioned officer of the old-time cavalry.</p>
          <p>But a rude ending came for the volunteer soldiering life that he was thoroughly enjoying. He had been writing for his paper while at the front “own correspondent” accounts of the campaign, in which he criticised the methods of the local high command. These candid opinions gave offence to the military heads. Superior officers must not be criticised by a mere subaltern. Ballance presently found himself relieved of his commission; and was free, in conesquence, to write even more frankly of the military men and the delay in taking effective measures against the Hauhau war parties which had held command of a large part of the coast for several months.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d5" type="section">
          <head>Wanganui's M.H.R.</head>
          <p>Six years of life in Wanganui had brought John Ballance well into the public eye and there were requests that he. should stand for Parliament. The first constituency he chose for contest was not Wanganui, however, but Egmont. He soon discovered that the veteran Major Atkinson was too strongly entrenched in the Taranaki people's favour to be displaced by a newcomer, and he retired before election day. Next time he selected a seat nearer home and in 1875 he entered Parliament as member for Rangitikei. He represented that district until 1880 when he was returned for Wanganui. With a three years' interlude, a defeat by Mr. W. H. Watt, he held the seat until his death in 1893.</p>
          <p>The young Irishman with an English radical training soon attracted attention in the House of Representatives and gave proof of ability to think logically and to express his thoughts with force and directness and an adequate command of English. He became a follower of Sir George Grey, in fact that great statesman's most advanced disciple in the new democratic crusade that opened with Grey's Premiership.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d6" type="section">
          <head>In the Ministry.</head>
          <p>He was offered a portfolio, Education, when he had been only three years in Parliament. He held this for a few months, then became Colonial Treasurer; but Grey was a difficult man to get on with, as most of his colleagues discovered sooner or later, and Ballance resigned after eighteen months' experience of ministerial life. That was in the middle of 1879. (It was in that year that Richard John Seddon first entered the House.) In 1884 Ballance was in the Cabinet room again, this time as Minister for Native Affairs in the Stout-Vogel Government; to this responsibility was added the administration of Defence and Lands. Ministries rose and fell rapidly in that era of New Zealand's political life. It was in 1891 that the great opportunity came. John Ballance was called upon, to form a Ministry. He was Premier for only two years before death cut short his work and plans; but short as it was that period of extraordinary legislative vigour was long enough to enable Ballance and his party to bring in and pass into law an instalment of the great Liberal policy measures which attracted world wide attention to New Zealand.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d7" type="section">
          <head>Land Laws Reform.</head>
          <p>It was as Minister of Lands in the Stout-Vogel Government that Mr. Ballance first had an untrammelled hand in shaping a settlement policy of a liberal and in fact revolutionary character, the beginning of the socialistic programme which Richard Seddon and John McKenzic expanded and elaborated in the Nineties. He consolidated the land laws, and framed additions which made the land more accessible to settlers. Village settlements were from the beginning a pet scheme with Ballance. The plan generally was good; the reasons why such methods of attaching small-farmers to a land sometimes failed was that unsuitable and remote districts were chosen for the experiments. But he succeeded in giving many working-men near large centres an opportunity of obtaining suitable areas of land where they could grow food and develop their longings for a healthy self-reliant life for themselves and their families.</p>
          <p>It was in the late Eighties, when Ballance was foremost in opposition to the Atkinson Government, that a number of afterwards notable men formed a strong Young New Zealand Party. John McKenzie, Joseph Ward, W. P. Reeves, James Mills were among its most prominent members; Ballance and Seddon by this time were veterans of the Liberal cause.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d8" type="section">
          <head>Premier of the Colony.</head>
          <p>When the Session of 1891 opened, a division on the election of the Speaker gave the Liberal party a majority of seven-37 against the Conservative party's 30. The Government resigned on this decision, and Mr. Ballance was requested by the Governor to form a Ministry. He did so, and chose the following members of his Cabinet: —Mr. W. P. Reeves, Minister for Education and Justice; Mr. Seddon, Minister for Public Works, Mines and Defence; Sir Patrick Buckley, Attorney-General, Colonial Secretary and Postmaster-General; Sir John. McKenzie, Lands, Immigration and Agriculture; Sir Joseph Ward, Post and Telegraph Department; Sir Alfred Jerome Cadman, Stamp Duties. In addition to the Premiership, Mr. Ballance took over the duties of Native Minister and Commissioner for Trade and Customs. (These Cabinet members were, of course, all plain “Misters” then; the knighthoods came later.) This was the sturdy “band of brothers” who pioneered the great political reforms and social improvement policy of the New Thought in New Zealand affairs.</p>
          <p>After a stormy first season, during which the much-detested property-tax was repealed, but other Liberal reforms were obstructed by the Conservative die-hards in the Legislative Council, the Government made twelve new appointments to the Council in order to get its measures passed into law. This was not done without a bitter struggle for the Colony's rights of self-government, for the Governor of the day, Lord Glasgow, refused to approve of more than nine new members of the Upper House. Mr. Ballance required the twelve in order to give his party a working majority. The controversy created a great stir in the country; the situation turned on the right or otherwise of a Governor to ignore the advice of his Ministers on such a question. It was tolerably clear that there would be a serious difference with the Imperial authorities if a Governor was to be permitted to flout the constitutional rights of the. people. The dispute was referred to the Secretary of State
<pb xml:id="n19" n="19"/>
for the Colonies, who decided that the Governor must accept unreservedly the advice of the Government. This victory for the Liberal cause assured the steady progress of the Liberal legislation.</p>
          <p>Ballance was not the first land laws reformer. Mr. Rolleston, in a previous administration, had introduced the perpetual-lease system of tenure. Ballance's special service was in the village settlement scheme which he developed during his period of office as Minister of Lands in the Stout-Vogel Government.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d9" type="section">
          <head>Votes for Women.</head>
          <p>Another direction in which he strongly advocated progressive legislation was in connection with electoral rights. He strenuously worked, from 1879 onward, for women's franchise. A Bill to this end had been introduced in Parliament several times without success. When he became Premier he gave a pledge that the franchise would be made a Government measure, and on his death Mr. Seddon took up the Bill and it was passed into law in September, 1893. Ballance's spirit should have rejoiced at this crowning triumph of many years of struggle for women's rights.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d10" type="section">
          <head>Illness and Death.</head>
          <p>It was in the latter part of 1891 that the Premier's state of health. after long-continued ominous signs of impending trouble, at last compelled him to leave the duties of leadership to his colleague for a while. He had been working very long hours, at high pressure. While he was ill Mr. Seddon led the House. The Premier heroically returned to his duties before he was really well enough for the physical effort and mental labour. Ht suffered internally from an intestinal complaint; he had often to retire to his room in agony. Repeatedly he returned to the House to pilot through his measures, in particular the Electoral Bill. During the whole of 1892 he was suffering greatly, with too brief periods of relief from the duties of his position. He should have resigned, as his friends begged him. and abandoned his Parliamentary duties in the cause of health. Of course he would not: his reply to the doctor who pointed out the necessity for a complete rest after an operation, and possibly a long sea voyage. was that he would rather die at his post than abandon the cause to which the people had called him. He likened himself to a soldier on the battlefield who could not desert his comrades. A reply that revealed the heroic soul, but it was heroic folly. He insisted on carrying on with preparations for (he session of 1893, but an operation became urgently necessary. In his greatly weakened state he sank, and died, on the 27th April.</p>
          <p>Like many another great and honest man he was a martyr to duty. But, like Seddon after him. he was perhaps obsessed, as ill-health increased, with the idea that he was indispensable to his cause and party. He was only fifty-four years old. Like another good colonist and statesman, Sir Donald Maclean, the great Native Minister who died at fifty-six, he was a victim to the responsibilities and anxieties of an harrassing public life.</p>
          <p>Ballance's death was peculiarly pathetic, as Mr. James Drummond put it in his “Life of Seddon.” “He had spent many of his best years in a struggle against heavy odds. At last he had been victorious, with a greater victory than anyone had thought the Liberal party would ever achieve. He was taken away at the very moment when his position was assured; and he did not live to see the fruition of his schemes. The colony now looks upon him as one of its heroes, a simple, broad-minded cultured gentleman, with a large heart, which beat in sympathy with the people's needs and aspirations. The task he had undertaken in leading the country was not too much for his abilities, but it was too much for his strength.”</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d11" type="section">
          <head>Richard Seddon's Tribute.</head>
          <p>Mr. Seddon's affectionate testimony to the work and nobility of his departed chief was expressive also of the popular estimate of Mr. Ballance's character, irrespective of political issues and parties. “He has been a good, true and faithful servant to the colony,” he said. “He was ever generous alike to opponents and friends. He was a wise counsellor and had the entire confidence of those whom he led. I can go further and say that he was loved and respected by all; and I might truthfully say that we shall never see his like again. His life proves that he sought not riches; but what he did seek, and what he obtained, was the goodwill of his fellow-men. His example is one that our young men might wisely follow. To the nook profession of journalism he was an ornament, and the great power at his command was always used in the interest of those around him, and in the interests of the country.”</p>
          <p>After Sir George Grey. john Ballance. as James Drummond so accurately says, was Mr. Seddon's political hero. Seddon never tired of speaking of the real greatness and goodness of heart of Ballancc, whose views for the amelioration of the people's lot and in particular the use or the land were so far in advance of other men's.</p>
          <p>As was fitting John Ballance was buried with military honours, in the town which he had helped to defend in the days of the Maori Wars, by active service on the near frontier. His comrades, the veterans of the old Wanganui Cavalry, were at the graveside. The whole colony mourned for the chief, taken away in the midst of his labours; but the sorrow of Wanganui was the most acute and profound of all, for in that town John Ballance had spent nearly half his life.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d12" type="section">
          <head>The two Crusaders.</head>
          <p>I have a memory of Mr. Ballance as was in his early days of the Premiership, when he and Sir John
<figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail019a"><graphic url="Gov09_05Rail019a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail019a-g"/><head>(Photograph taken by Lord Bledisloe)<lb/>
Lake Mspourika (near Waiho Gorge) and the Franz Josef Glacier, South Island, New Zealand.</head></figure>
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(then Mr.) McKenzie visited Auckland and foregathered sociably one evening with a party of newspaper men. They were a burly pair, and cheerful. John Ballance was probably suffering even then from the physical ills that carried him off, but he always man-fully tried to show a happy face to the world. Ballance was not a small man by any means, but the big broad-shouldered Highlander towered a head above him. One would like to have seen him in the tartan of his clan tossing the caber at the Highland sports—or wielding the claymore in a charge on the Sassenach foe. But Jock McKenzie's claymore was the Liberal party's land legislation that cut asunder the too-huge estates of the sheep-graziers, and gave opportunity to the landless men, the men 'who longed for a life on the land, and obtained their heart's desire.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d13" type="section">
          <head>An Impression of Ballance.</head>
          <p>In the little book of often uncomplimentary character sketches, “Political Portraits,” by “Quiz” published in Wellington in 1892, there is a word-picture of John Ballance which, in part, is the best description of the man that I have read. But it has its acid touches. I quote the more accurate and fair portions of the sketch from the pen of “Quiz.” otherwise Joseph Evison; I omit the rest because it exhibits a spirit of malice in which the author of “Political Portraits” often indulged at the expense of those with whose politics he disagreed. Here is Ballance in his early days as Premier: —</p>
          <p>“A tall, but not very tall man. Physically, a large man—large all over. Head, well developed; hair, smooth and iron-grey; eyes of pale or neutral tint, eyes which look out cautiously, sometimes suspiciously, at times timidly, from beneath penthouse brows; features massive and marked, Hibernian in cast; shoulders, large and round—rounded, may be, by the cares of State or the burden of leader-writing when there was nothing to write about; arms, long; hands, small and, seen from the distance, delicate. Garb these proportions in seemly broadcloth, tweed, and fair linen, and you have, roughly speaking, the Premier of New Zealand. Very roughly, of course, because the paragraph descriptive of the passport or Police Gazette variety, merely sketches, so to speak, the rind of the person advertised. At first glance Mr. Ballance undoubtedly gives the impression of strength, of physical and mental sturdiness. Those, however, who have learned to distrust first impressions, and to note physical and mental characteristics, apparently trifling, but really useful, might perhaps hesitate before they credited the Premier with bodily or mental robustness of the first order</p>
          <p>“In manner Mr. Ballance is generally agreeable. When he is having everything his own way he is very-agreeable. Many people are like that. When he is nice, he is very, very nice. It has been said of him that his methods are sometimes saponaceous. Wherever or however obtained, Mr. Ballance is in possession of a vast variety of useful information. There is a certain amount of useful information of which he is not in possession. This frequently happens even with celebrated persons. Largely self-taught, many of Mr. Ballance's errors and mistakes spring from the fact that his studies have never been judiciously directed, that he has not digested all that he has read, and that many of his opinions arc, not unnaturally, crude. He, like Sir Robert Stout, is too prone to take up raw theories elegantly propounded in British or American magazine articles, the writers of which little think what may be amusement to them may he seriously swallowed, without proper mental mastication, by some well-meaning gentleman, who holds for the time being the destinies of his country in the hollow of his hand. Without writing the Hon. John Ballance down as a political failure I think that he would have been a better, a more useful, and a far happier member of society had he never rushed into political life. He, a man of peace, fond of the acquisition of knowledge, enjoying many pleasant and semi-scientific hobbies, has, somehow or another, drilled into the political Donnybrook, where skulls are broken, nose? spoilt, and limbs fractured, just for pure diversion. Being there, and not caring for hard knocks, he saves his head as much as possible by clever skirmishing and scheming, makes up for his deficiencies as a fighter by the loudness of his encouragement to his followers, clips an enemy over the head with a black-thorn when safe opportunity offers, would hugely prefer to be out of the scrimmage altogether, and will get out of it the first moment he can, with decency or with profit to do so.” It all depend, of course, on the point of view, the political view; “Quiz” wrote before Mr. Ballance had had an opportunity of fully proving his usefulness to the nation. But one thing is certain: he would have lived far longer had he refrained from the fascinating but sometimes fatal game of party politics.</p>
          <p>
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        <div xml:id="t1-body-d7-d14" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Wanted to Sell</hi>.</head>
          <p>Well-built six-roomed house close to Christchurch and Addington Railway Stations. Would make a very desirable residence for a railway man. Has, ail modern conveniences; well-appointed bathroom; modern gas cooker. Brick garage, tool-shed. The section is a ¼-acre. One tram section to town and within one minute's walk of two. tram routes. The owner is now in Australia. Apply P.O. Box 325, Christchurch.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
          <pb xml:id="n22" n="22"/>
          <p>
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          </p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n23" n="23"/>
      <div decls="#text-7-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d8" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409682">In Strange Waters<lb/> <hi rend="c">The Run of the Quinnat Salmon</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408317"><hi rend="c">Eric Lowe</hi></name>.)</byline>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Every</hi> mid-summer there arrives at the mouths of several Canterbury rivers a swarming host, a “silver horde,” the annual “run” of quinnat salmon. Formidable, indeed, must they appear to the all-the-year-round denizens of the coastal and inland waters of the Rakaia, the Waimakariri, and the Hurunui, and such other rivers as they choose for a spawning ground.</p>
        <p>Rank on rank, legion after legion, endlessly the great silver and green battalions pour in from the open sea, till the confined limits of the estuaries swarm with them. There for some time they remain, getting accustomed to the change from salt to fresh water.</p>
        <p>The angler, waiting hour after hour for a bite, may not suspect the numerous swift forms which glide silently to and fro in the depths beneath him, for the quinnat, once having left the sea, feed little, if at all. That an odd one or two of the passing multitude is hooked is due, according to most authorities, to the mere whim or caprice of an occasional fish, snapping at the bright spoon <hi rend="i">en passant.</hi>
</p>
        <p>It is not my intention to write of the ways of the big fish during the period they remain about the river-mouth, but to follow them on their remarkable journey from the sea to their destination at the spawning grounds far back in the snow-capped mountains which overshadow the great Rakaia Gorge, sixty miles or more from the coast. The change from the deep dark waters of the Pacific to the shallow boulderstrewn stream of the Rakaia River mu t be a strange experience for the quinnat. Yet ever inland press the ocean invaders, mile after mile, league after league, through broad stretches of ripple and deeper channels of blue.</p>
        <p>At the well-known Rakaia Gorge bridge the advance legions of the quinnat enter the country of the mountains. From the bridge, the huge bulk of Mt. Hutt towers its thousands of feet skywards. Looking upstream, one sees an apparently unending vista of great mountains, through which the Rakaia winds its way. Yet it is to a point twenty miles further up this landlocked stream, up amid the region of the eternal snows, that all the hurrying host of sea-fish are bound.</p>
        <p>There, where the waters of the great river have dwindled to a few shallow rivulets, the quinnat arrive at their journey's end.</p>
        <p>Into the boulder-streams and into every little creek that runs in from the tussock plains of the wide riverbed, the grim, strong swimmers pass, gliding gracefully through water barely deep enough to cover them, and ever and anon with a mighty splashing, thumping over stretches of “ripple” where you might walk across almost without wetting your feet.</p>
        <p>To see a big fifty pound salnion thresh its way across thirty yards of shingle, through water six inches deep, is a sight worth going some distance to see. With half his body clear of the water, a curving jet rising from the pointed head, and the powerful tail flailing up a smother of water and gravel in his wake, this game fighter of the sea, urged on by that mysterious instinct which is beyond our human powers of comprehension, passes on to the same spawning ground from which he himself, as a tiny smolt, years ago drifted down to the great ocean.</p>
        <p>For some weeks the salmon remain in the shallow waters. While camped in the Gorge, I have seen them by night lying three and four abreast in the creeks, like destroyers moored side by side. Every now and again the stillness of the Gorge darkness is broken by a sudden loud flapping and splashing as a monster fish or half a dozen together, smash through a ripple to a favoured ground further upstream. What proportion of the “run” survive the fatigue and stress of the journey, to return to the sea, is doubtful. Certain it is that every year great numbers leave their bones far up in the back country.</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail023a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail023a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail023a-g"/>
            <head>Fishing in the Manawatu River, North Island, New Zealand.</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>When the salmon first arrive at the spawning ground they are usually in good condition, despite the long journey through the swift and turbulent Rakaia. But a few weeks in the shallow streams leaves its mark, and a terrible one it is, on the graceful green and grey squadrons.</p>
        <p>Large whitish patches appear on the side of the fish, the skin becomes slimy, the belly chafed and discoloured by friction on the shingle. Tragic indeed is the last stage in the life-cycle of the lordly quinnat. The once shapely stream-lined head assumes a horrible pike-like appearance, with rows of sharp teeth protruding from the wolfish jaws. Gone is the comely plumpness of a month ago, and the mottled, disfigured razor-back swims sluggishly to and fro. Often the great double sin of the tail is almost entirely gone, literally rubbed away in rooting and tearing into the sharp fine shingle beds, preparing for the laying of the ova and covering it up afterwards.</p>
        <p>Soon every shallow ripple, every little sandy beach in the stream has its quota of dead and dying salmon, grotesque caricatures of the swift and graceful host which a few short months ago mustered at the far-off rivermouth.</p>
        <p>But the main purpose of their life has been accomplished. These pitiful wrecks, whose still or feebly struggling forms cumber the shallows, have nobly carried out the task assigned to them by Nature, and the seed which shall perpetuate their species lies safe from ocean foes beneath the gritty shingle which shall be their cradle and in later years their grave, far inland in the shadows of the great mountains.</p>
      </div>
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      <div decls="#text-8-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d9" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409683">Famous New Zealand Trials<lb/> <hi rend="c">The Trial of Whakamau</hi>
</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-023920">C. A. L. <hi rend="c">Treadwell</hi>
</name>.)</byline>
        <p><hi rend="sc">On</hi> 23rd November, 1868, a young Maori named Whakamau, saw a pedlar, Frederick Korncrop, travelling from Ohau along the track that led to Otaki. Whakamau knew that Korncrop had in his possession the golden tokens that would enable him (Whakamau) to buy whatever he coveted. It was a lonely track, there would be no one to see or hear, and Whakamau, seized with an impulse to kill, followed Korncrop and attacked him with a tomahawk.</p>
        <p>When Whakamau, who lived with members of his tribe at Ohau, was arrested for the murder, the Government of the day, in order to strengthen the faith of the Maori in the British sense of fair play, engaged one of the leading counsel of Wellington to defend Whakamau. The Maoris came from all parts of the district and followed every phase of the case with the greatest interest.</p>
        <p>The trial took place at Wellington and the Crown was represented by the Attorney-General and Mr. Izard. Counsel for the defence was Mr. W. T. L. Travers.</p>
        <p>The Attorney-General, after the formalities of empanelling a jury were completed, opened the case by saying that the main evidence against the native in the box was a statement made by the prisoner himself and a statement made by the deceased pedlar. The statement of the deceased, however, was subsequently rejected as inadmissible.</p>
        <p>The facts briefly related by the Attorney-General were that Korncrop would be shewn to have left Ohau on the 23rd November, 1868, for Otaki. The prisoner was seen to follow in the same direction some time later, and the deceased was seen at the Otaki ferry with a dreadful head injury. The prisoner's mat was found near the scene of the murder and nearby was also found the tomahawk that Whakamau often used. Having thus briefly stated the facts on which he relied to establish the guilt of the prisoner, the story was then taken up by the witnesses.</p>
        <p>The first witness to give evidence was John Turner, the ferry-man at the Otaki river. At either side of the ferry, which was half a mile wide, there was a bell, used for attracting the attention of the ferry-man from one side of the river or the other. As Turner was resting on the north side of the ferry he heard the bell ring on the opposite side. He looked across and he saw a man violently ring it and then collapse on the ground. Turner pulled his ferry over as quickly as he could and, leaping out, dashed up to the prone body of the man who had rung the bell. The man was in a fainting condition and smothered in blood. “Pick me up and take me to Langley's. I am dying,” he said. As Turner bent down to raise him the man's coat fell from his shoulders and, to his horror, Turner saw a large cut in the back of the man's neck. The pedlar was wearing white cord trousers, a black coat and a Crimean shirt. He had neither hat, boots or sox, and his clothes were smothered in sand.</p>
        <p>Turner helped the man into the ferry and hurried him across to Langley's Ferry Hotel. Though Turner did not know him by name he recognised the man as a pedlar who peddled his wares up and down the country. A day or two later Turner saw him in his bed in the hotel. Two days later he died. In answer to Mr. Travers, Turner said that the man lay in the bottom of the ferry and he had put his arm round him to help him from the ferry to the hotel.</p>
        <p>Eliza Langley, the wife of the proprietor of the Ferry, said that she saw Korncrop coming from the ferry on the 23rd November. When she noticed him he was coming in the gate by himself. At the same moment Turner was fastening the boat. When she saw Korncrop she noticed that he was covered with blood and she at once sent for Dr. Smith. Her husband and Constable Purcell put Korncrop to bed. There was blood, sand and dirt on the wound at the back of the head. The unfortunate man never rose from his bed. Day and night Mrs. Langley nursed Korncrop
<pb xml:id="n25" n="25"/>
until he died on the Sunday evening following his arrival. Korncrop insisted that he would not recover. When he reached the hotel on the Monday he exclaimed: “For God's sake send for the doctor; I am dying.” To the Judge Mrs. Langley admitted that she had previously said that Korncrop did not think he was dying. That statement, however, was wrong, she said, and she now wished to explain all. An attempt was then made by Mr. Travers to establish that the man had not died from the injury alone, but by the subsequent neglect of Dr. Smith. The doctor applied wet towels and when the bleeding had stopped he covered the wound with two strips of plaster.</p>
        <p>The evidence of Dr. John Baxter Smith then followed. He described himself as a surgeon, and the coroner for Manawatu. He had occupied that position, he said, for several years. He had no medical diploma, but he had practised medicine and surgery ever since his arrival in New Zealand. He had also assisted a surgeon in England and had practised alone in India. Dr. Smith then went on to say that he had attended the deceased and that he was a friend of his. His Christian name was Conrad and his true surname was Kornrupp. When he went to Langley's in answer to the summons on the 23rd, he found his friend dying. There was a large clot of blood and sand under the right ear. The wound was three inches long commencing one and a half inches below the lobe of the ear, and half an inch in depth. The man's brain was injured. At that time Dr. Featherstone was also in the house. Dr. Smith then said that he removed the fragments, as he called the foreign matter, from the wound. He gave Korncrop some brandy. There was no arterial bleeding. He applied some plaster and wet towels. He did not apply any further plaster on the next day as there had been no bleeding overnight. On the Tuesday, however, he gave his patient some calomel; on the Thursday, Rochelle salts and on Friday six grey powders, which were to be taken every two hours. The latter medicine was given because he feared his patient might develop convulsions.</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail025a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail025a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail025a-g"/>
            <head>“To his horror Turner saw a large cut in the back of the man's neck.”</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>On the Monday when Korncrop first saw the witness he said to him: “I'm killed; I'm dying, take care of my watch.” The doctor tried to cheer his friend up, but Korncrop shook his head. Dr. Smith then sent for Mr. Halcombe, the magistrate.</p>
        <p>The doctor went on to say that the cause of death was the splitting of the skull with the resultant injury to the brain. Then Mr. Travers began his cross-examination. Dr. Smith said that he had had previous experience of brain injuries. This particular one had been made by a heavy, sharp instrument applied forcibly. The deceased must have been stooping when struck. When the post-mortem was conducted on the body of Korncrop the head had been opened in the ordinary way. He said that there was suppuration of the brain while he was treating the injury. He denied that an artery had been cut and later bled. Here the Judge interposed and remarked that that would not exonerate the prisoner. Mr. Travers said: “If death was caused by subsequent treatment that would be sufficient.” But the Judge would have none of that and promptly ruled against such a contention. Dr. Smith said that he encouraged the deceased with the hope of life, but Korncrop insisted that he was doomed. The doctor added that he, too, thought that his friend was dying.</p>
        <p>The next witness was the Superintendent of the Province, Dr. I. E. Featherstone, who happened to be at the hotel when the deceased was brought in from the ferry. He said that he examined the man “slightly.” There was a decided fracture of the skull, but his pulse was quiet and the symptoms were favourable. What precisely Dr. Featherstone meant by the last statement when he immediately added: “The wound was such as almost certain to result in death,” it is impossible to surmise. In crossexamination he said that he had known of such injuries not proving fatal.</p>
        <p>Constable Purcell then gave evidence. He said that he had known the deceased as Korncrop and he saw him on the 23rd with Dr. Smith. He said that Korncrop was wounded and much exhausted. He was present when the wound was washed clean by Dr. Smith. In his opinion there was very little bleeding from the wound. He heard Korncrop say: “I am dying, do something for me.” The constable told him that he would ask the magistrate to take his depositions and then he would see the man who had attacked him. Three days later the prisoner spoke to the witness. The witness said that he told the prisoner that he had inflicted a terrible injury upon Korncrop. The prisoner said “Kahore” and, placing the constable in a stooping position, put his hand on the back of his (the constable's) neck.</p>
        <p>Then came Mr. A. F. Halcombe, J.P., who said that he had taken the deceased's depositions at the hotel. He then proposed to read what he had taken down, but Mr. Travers strenuously objected to such a course. The deceased had not been proved to have believed he was dying. It was necessary, in order to make such a statement admissible, that the deceased should definitely be sure that he was dying, and that degree of certainty had not been proved. Mr. Izard contended that the evidence was sufficient to meet that objection, but the Judge thought otherwise and the statement was rejected. (It is to be remembered that the Crown relied on that statement as one of the two principal pieces of evidence to establish their case.)</p>
        <p>The evidence of John Gower, a farmer who lived between Ohau and Waikawa, was next taken. He came across an iron-grey horse. It was carrying a new saddle and pack. He led the horse away and Hemi, a native boy, met him. He was carrying a haversack which was covered with blood. Then he found a mat which was blood-stained and he noticed two sets of foot marks. Gower said that he gave the mat to Hemi. On the 16th January, Gower
<pb xml:id="n26" n="26"/>
said that he had found the tomahawk produced. On the blade of the tomahawk were light-coloured human hairs.</p>
        <p>Then Mr. A. Knox told that the prisoner had lived at Otaki for about three years. On Monday, the 23rd November, he had seen the pedlar about 9 a.m., at Hadfield's. He was a foreigner and had an irongrey horse. Later the witness was with Constable Purcell at Pukukaraki when he saw the prisoner. He asked Whakamau if the other natives in the pa would give him up to the police and the prisoner had answered, “No, myself and others will go to Wellington.” The witness saw him later and heard him asked if he had killed the pedlar. At this question, put to him by the witness' mother, the prisoner hid his face and cried. At the police station the witness asked him if he had killed the European and he replied, “Yes.” He told the witness all about it. The prisoner said, “I went inland to Waitohu and then decided that I would follow the European and strike him. I caught up with him at Waihoronumi.”</p>
        <p>The witness said that before the prisoner told him this he mentioned he had done it for money, and then went on with his story of the crime in these words: “We went together as far as Waikawa creek. The European told me to cross. I did so and the water came up to my chest. He told me to come back and fetch his goods and he would pay me. I found shallow water and seeing this he rode his horse across and did not give me the goods to carry. I thought to myself, you, presently, will be struck down by me. He knelt down to put on his boot. I bent down and put my hand under my mat. He saw, and I stopped. As he put on the other boot I quickly took out my tomahawk and struck him. He rolled over. He got up. I saw blood and was afraid. I ran away. I looked back and threw the tomahawk away. I ran to Porahau.” The witness then added that he was present at the native pa when the other natives handed Whakamau over to him. They merely said, “Go.” In cross-examination the witness said that he got the statement from the Maori by asking him questions and then taking his answers.</p>
        <p>The chief of the tribe to which the prisoner belonged said that the Maori boy had given him the haversack produced. He also added that he was present when the prisoner was taken into custody. The Maori boy then gave evidence to the effect that on the 23rd he had seen the deceased on the beach and not far away from the prisoner. He said that he had found the haversack. That closed the case for the Crown; and save for the admissions made by the prisoner and the possible identification of the tomahawk as the prisoner's, there was little else to connect him with the crime.</p>
        <p>Mr. Travers did not call any evidence for the defence and the Crown did not trouble to sum up the case to the jury. In his address to the jury Mr. Travers said that he had to admit that there was a strong case against the prisoner, but in his submission the charge was not sheeted home. Identity of the prisoner as the murderer had not been established. He asked the jury to remove all feeling of racial differences. Counsel then reminded the jury that, except for the confession allegedly made to Knox, there was no evidence, connecting prisoner with the crime. There was no evidence that the blow had been given at Ohau. Perhaps it had been inflicted miles nearer Manawatu. It was true that there was no evidence connecting anyone. The jury ought to utterly disbelieve Mrs. Langley's evidence. Mr. Travers said that it appeared that Dr. Smith had treated the deceased properly, but the jury must remember that, in the circumstances, more than a mere confession was necessary to sheet home the crime to the prisoner in the dock. If there was reasonable doubt about the matter the prisoner was entitled to it. It was always for the Crown to prove the guilt and not for the prisoner to establish his innocence.</p>
        <p>The Judge then proceeded to address the jury. He told them, as had counsel for the defence, to dismiss from their minds any feelings of racial differences. This trial should show the natives we were disposed to fair trials. The prisoner had the benefit of able counsel and they should be able to satisfy that justice would be done after proper inquiry. He regretted that the preliminary inquiry had been bungled. It was also to be regretted that the prisoner had not been faced with the dying man. An adjournment had been granted to the prisoner in order to impress him that he would get a fair trial. So far as the medical evidence was concerned there was no justification to suggest there had been negligent treatment. The Judge said he thought Mrs. Langley had made some mistakes in her evidence, but they were not material. Dr. Smith had proved an unsatisfactory witness in the box, but it was not material. The cause of death was clear. The first question was: was the pedlar murdered? The answer was that it was quite clear he was. The Judge said he agreed that a confession alone was not enough to entitle the jury to convict. But in this case there was other evidence. The prisoner was seen following along the same road as the deceased. The Judge also referred to the other facts that seemed to point unerringly at the prisoner. The prisoner, too, was not mad, so no question of not being responsible for his act on that ground had been suggested or could be suggested.</p>
        <p>The jury took half an hour to deliberate and then returned finding that Whakamau had murdered the unfortunate Korncrop.</p>
        <p>When the customary question was put to the prisoner whether or not he had anything to say he said: “I did not murder the man. That was only concluded from the deceased's statement. I was arrested on account of the clothes I was wearing, but they were common clothes. I was accused by a relation and was given up to the police.”</p>
        <p>In sentencing the prisoner the Judge said: “You have had a most faithful, fair, and just trial. The jury say you are guilty and I entirely concur in their verdict, for no other could be arrived at on the evidence. You have had the benefit of able counsel to find any ground of escape for you, but your counsel and your own statements have failed to find any such ground. Your trial has caused much expense, but it will not be useless if it shews your neighbours that equal justice will be done to European and Maori.” The Judge then referred to the statement the prisoner had made and added: “I do not know if you have any creed or if you believe as men of sound reason do, in a future state of rewards and punishments, but as a Christian judge I am bound to tell you that in a Christian country, according to our belief, a man who commits murder and dies without repentance must expect a far greater punishment in the world to come. I trust, therefore, that in the few days still left you, you will take advice and endeavour to obtain pardon from God for your sins.” Then followed the formal and awful sentence of death.</p>
        <p>On Tuesday the 23rd March, 1869, the sentence of death was carried out. One small detail in the gruesome business might as well be mentioned, for it seemed to shew that the executioner was a novice at his job. The white cap was drawn over the head of the prisoner before he climbed the steps to the scaffold and he had to be led up the steps by the assisting police. It is usual, of course, not to cover the prisoner's head until the very last moment.</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n27" n="27"/>
      <div decls="#text-9-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d10" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409684">Lake Rotoroa<lb/> <hi rend="c">The Sportsman's Paradise</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408349">Mrs. M. P. <hi rend="c">Jenkins</hi>
</name>.)</byline>
        <p>“Where each new day is like an opening flower, Whose leaves unfold in beauty hour by hour; Till purple shadows lingering over late Have watched the red sun close the western gate. And old romance is there its spell to weave, When night enfolds this lovely lake at eve.”</p>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Leaving</hi> the West Coast road at Gowan Bridge, and motoring for seven miles along a bush fringed road that leads into the heart of the hills, the traveller comes to Lake Rotoroa. And here is rest, complete enough to satisfy the most tired wayfarer.</p>
        <p>The lake, which is over 10,000 acres in extent, stretches for about ten miles into the hills, and the bush on all sides reaches down to the water's edge. The purple-blue of the surrounding hills gives an air of great beauty to the big lake, and to those who indulge only in the quieter pastime of walking, the graceful waterfalls, beautiful wooded gorges, and lovely bushland walks, are a sheer delight.</p>
        <p>The hills in places rise to a height of over 8000ft., and there is excellent deer-stalking, as well as pig and smaller game shooting to be had there. The best of fishing also awaits the angler, many fine specimens of rainbow trout finding their way to the accommodation house whenever the launch leaves the little jetty with fishermen aboard.</p>
        <p>The track leading to the “look-out” is the original one used by the miners in the early days, when hundreds of miners, carrying their swags, trudged over Lake Hill seeking fortune in the goldfields. Fat bullocks were used for transport, and then sold on arrival at Lyell.</p>
        <p>Visitors from all parts of the world have remarked on the variety of the scenic attractions at Lake Rotoroa. On the track leading to the “look-out” there are some of the finest native trees to be seen anywhere in New Zealand. In the denser parts of the surrounding bush the ferns form a veritable fairyland, and hidden away there, covered with moss and ferns, lie the trunks of long dead giants of the forest, magnificent trees that probably towered for centuries above those now standing; and these latter include many splendid specimens of brown and black birch, rimu, black and white pine, and totara.</p>
        <p>In the cool shadow of a perfect evening on the lake a family of teal swam leisurely past the boat, and the lights from the distant Lake House looked like fairy lanterns across the wide expanse of rippling water.</p>
        <p>In the bush are friendly fantails, pert little tomtits, native wrens and small cuckoos, as well as native pigeons, and there</p>
        <lg type="verse">
          <l>“Bellbirds chime and tuis sing His praise,</l>
          <l>Who gave them wooded dells and sunny days.”</l>
        </lg>
        <p>The lake is fed by two rivers, the Sabine and D'Urville, both famous for their trout; this probably accounting for the lake having beens given the title of “The Fisherman's Paradise.”</p>
        <p>The view from the Lake House is remarkable, and from the balcony the lake may be seen in all its varying moods.</p>
        <p>The old hut that the miners used still stands at the lake edge, and the long deal table, built against the wall, with the fixed form running the full length of it, are truly eloquent reminders of the old mining days. One could imagine the weary miners trying to snatch a few hours sleep before setting out on the long trail over the hill to the goldfields, where either fortune or oblivion awaited them. The big fireplace must have cheered many hearts by its friendly blaze, and provided many a hot mug of tea for parched throats.</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail027a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail027a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail027a-g"/>
            <head>A glimpse of Lake Rotoroa, Nelson Province, South Island, New Zealand.</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>The old days are gone, and many of the miners who slept in the old hut are sleeping their last sleep on some quiet hillside or in some lonely gulch. But two of their remaining number returned to the old place during the writer's stay at the lake, and gladly set their blackened billies on the old friendly hob.</p>
        <p>And while the big water-wheel, turning slowly close beside their hut, let loose a hundred dancing lights in the big Lake House they lit their little bit of candle as they did in the old dead years, and with the music of running waters lulling them to rest—</p>
        <lg type="verse">
          <l>“Stretched themselves in the friendly bunks,</l>
          <l>As they did in the nights of yore;</l>
          <l>And slept, to dream of other days,</l>
          <l>The days that are no more.”</l>
        </lg>
        <p>The gold quest is again luring them up the old track, and next day one of them proudly exhibited a tiny nugget of the precious metal no bigger than a pin's head, which he had kept for safety in the peak of his old cap. Let us hope he finds many more to keep it company.</p>
        <p>There is gold of many kinds to be found as we wander along life's track, and like the old miner, the writer too found at Lake Rotoroa something to treasure—“a memory of dancing lights on peaceful waters, and the morning song of birds.”</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n28" n="28"/>
      <div decls="#text-10-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d11" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409685"><hi rend="c">Heroes Of The Maori Wars<lb/> How Fifteen Victoria Crosses Were Won in New Zealand</hi>.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408338">H. L. <hi rend="c">Chisholm</hi>
</name>.)</byline>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail028a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail028a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail028a-g"/>
            <head>“Odgers was the first man over.”</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p><hi rend="sc">Few</hi> of the present generation realise that no fewer than fifteen Victoria Crosses have been won in New Zealand. All the awards of this “Most Enviable Order of Chivalry,” as the Prince of Wales has called it, were earned within six years, 18601865.</p>
        <p>The story of how each was won is related in the “London Gazette” notices of the period, but the citations are incomplete in their detail and are confined to the merest facts. The names of the actions are not often given and are sometimes wrongly spelt, and in fact, the records read strangely to minds that are accustomed to think of warfare in terms of machine guns, torpedoes and aeroplanes.</p>
        <p>The first V.C. was won by Leading Seaman William Odgers of H.M.S. “Niger,” who, says the “Gazette,” displayed conspicuous gallantry at the storming of a pa during operations against the rebel natives of New Zealand; having been the first to enter it, under a heavy fire, and having assisted in hauling down the enemy's colours.</p>
        <p>Odgers, who was Captain's coxswain on the “Niger,” a barquerigged screw corvette, commanded by Captain Peter Cracroft, R.N., won his cross at the storming of the Kaiapopo pa on 28th March, 1860, during the first Taranaki War.</p>
        <p>In the afternoon, Captain Cracroft had landed a party of about sixty officers, sailors and marines, and in the falling dusk, about 5.30 p.m., he led his men against the pa, first turning the right flank and then storming it. Taking little heed of the firing from the rifle-pits, the men dashed at the stockade, armed with cutlasses. It was then that Captain Cracroft caught sight of a trio of flags waving from the palisades.</p>
        <p>“Ten pounds to the man who pulls down those flags,” he yelled, and slashing their way, the storming party were over the stockade in a few minutes. Odgers was the first man over and once inside he charged for the flagstaff and hauled down the ensigns which, on the following day, were flown at the mainmast-head of his ship.</p>
        <p>The second Cross was won a year later, on 18th March, 1861, by Colour Sergeant John Lucas of the 40th Regiment, who was acting as sergeant of a party of skirmishers to the right of the No. 7 redoubt during the advance on Te Arei. They were close to the Huirangi Bush, facing the left of the positions occupied by the natives, and at about 4 p.m. a very heavy and well-directed fire was suddenly opened upon them from the bush and high ground on the left. Three men were wounded simultaneously, two of them mortally, and assistance was called for to have them carried to the rear. A file was immediately sent, but had scarcely arrived when one of them fell and Lieutenant Rees was wounded at the same time.</p>
        <p>Under a heavy fire from the rebels who were not more than thirty yards away, Colour Sergeant Lucas immediately went up to the assistance of this officer and sent a man with him to the rear. He then took charge of the arms belonging to the dead and wounded and maintained his position until the arrival of supports under Lieutenants Gibson and Whelan.</p>
        <p>The Waikato War was still young when the engagement at Camerontown, which resulted in two Crosses being won, was fought. It was nearly two-and-a-half years since the last V.C. had been awarded, and was the first occasion in the history of the struggle between the Maoris and the British forces that two Crosses were won in the same action. The recipients were Colour Sergeant Edward McKenna, 65th Regiment, and Lance-Corporal John Ryan, 67th Regiment.</p>
        <pb xml:id="n29" n="29"/>
        <p>Camerontown was an army depot which had been established on the north bank of the Lower Waikato River between the Tuakau Redoubt and the Heads, as a half-way station for stores shipped up the river to the British Field Headquarters. It was named after Lieutenant General Sir Duncan Cameron, Commander-inChief. Mr. James Armitage, the resident magistrate in the district, superintended the work of transhipping the stores for the journey up the river, and he was shot down in his canoe by a party of natives on 7th September, 1863, after which a skirmish was fought between the Friendly natives and the Kingites.</p>
        <p>After receiving reports of the death of Mr. Armitage and the burning of the stores, Captain Swift of the 65th Regiment, the officer in charge of the detachment at Alexandra redoubt, Tuakau, set off for Camerontown with Lieutenant Butler and fifty men, and an engagement was fought in the bush during the afternoon. Captain Swift was shot and Lieutenant Butler disabled. Colour Sergeant McKenna, the senior N.C.O., was ordered by the dying Captain Swift to lead on the men and he thereupon conducted the skirmish with both skill and judgment. McKenna and his party were subjected to a heavy fire from the natives, but he managed to inflict losses amounting to between twenty and thirty killed or wounded.</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail029a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail029a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail029a-g"/>
            <head>“At the risk of their lives they crossed the Maori keep… to tend the wounded.”</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>The official record of the deed of valour refers to his “gallant conduct, in charging through the position of an enemy heavily outnumbering him and drawing off his small force consisting of two sergeants, one bugler and thirty-five men through a broken and rugged country with the loss of but one man killed and another missing.</p>
        <p>“Lieutenant-General Cameron, C.B., commanding Her Majesty's forces in the colony reports that in ColourSergeant McKenna, the detachment found a commander whose coolness, intrepidity and judgment justified the confidence placed in him by the soldiers brought so suddenly under his command.”</p>
        <p>The citation of Lance-Corporal Ryan states that he, with privates Bulford and Talbot of the same regiment, who had been recommended for the medal for distinguished conduct in the field, removed the body of Captain Swift from the field of action after he had been mortally wounded and remained with it all night in a bush surrounded by the enemy.</p>
        <p>Further information is given by. Mr. James Cowan in Volume I. of his “New Zealand Wars,” in which he says (page 256): “McKenna was awarded the Victoria Cross for his valour and was also given a commission as ensign in his regiment. He settled in New Zealand and was for many years a stationmaster in the Government Railway Service. Lance-Corporal Ryan was also awarded the V.C., but before he received it, he was drowned in the Waikato in an attempt to save a comrade. Four of the privates engaged —Bulford, Talbot, Cole and Thomas—were each decorated with the medal for distinguished conduct in the field.”</p>
        <p>The next award also, was a double one, the winners on this occasion being Ensign John Thornton Down and Drummer Dudley Stagpoole, of the 57th Regiment “for their conduct at Poutohio (Poutoko?) on 2nd October, 1863, in rescuing a wounded comrade from the rebel Maoris.”</p>
        <p>The engagement, which was a part of the second Taranaki Campaign, was fought at Allan's Hill, or Hurford Road, about five-and-a-half miles south of New Plymouth, where there was some brisk fighting, the pakeha forces being a strong band of soldier-settlers and of the 57th Regiment, under Colonel Warre.</p>
        <p>A wounded man was lying about fifty yards from the bush from which the Maoris kept up a very heavy fire, and other natives were shooting from behind fallen logs close at hand. Colonel Warre called for volunteers to go out and bring the man in. Down and Stagpoole volunteered and accomplished their mission successfully.</p>
        <p>Drummer Stagpoole is one of the very few who earned two decorations in the campaign, having been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal “for the energy and devotion which he displayed on 25th September, 1863—a week previously— at the affair near Kaipopako, in having, though wounded in the head, twice volunteered and brought in wounded men.”</p>
        <p>A mile north of Rangiriri railway station and half a mile before the township is reached, coming from Auckland on the Great South Road, is the hill on which the tragic battle of Rangiriri was fought on 20th November, 1863; where 128 out of 850 men in the British forces were slain and where two Victoria Crosses were won.</p>
        <p>The outer works had been taken, but the central redoubt of the Kingite stronghold in which the Maoris had congregated, had defied all attempts to capture it. It was then the late afternoon, and General Cameron, full of stubborn determination and annoyed at the prolonged resistance, issued a ridiculous order, sending a detachment of the Royal Artillery, thirty-seven strong, and armed only with revolvers and swords, to storm the redoubt at which the main body of the 65th Regiment and the 14th Regiment had failed. Led by Captain Mercer, the party attempted to climb the parapet, but only one or two succeeded. Captain Mercer fell back, shot through the mouth and mortally wounded, and the attack had failed.</p>
        <p>It was then that Assistant Surgeon W. Temple and Lieutenant Arthur Frederick Pickard, both of the Royal Artillery, came into the scene. At the risk of their lives, they crossed the Maori keep at the point upon which the enemy had concentrated their fire, to tend the wounded and more especially Captain Mercer.</p>
        <p>Lieutenant Pickard, it is stated, crossed and recrossed the parapet to procure water for the wounded, when none of the men could be
<pb xml:id="n30" n="30"/>
<figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail030a"><graphic url="Gov09_05Rail030a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail030a-g"/></figure>
<figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail030b"><graphic url="Gov09_05Rail030b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail030b-g"/></figure>
<pb xml:id="n31" n="31"/>
induced to perform the service, the space which he traversed being exposed to a cross fire.</p>
        <p>Both men received their crosses “for gallant conduct, in exposing their lives in imminent danger…. Testimony is borne to the calmness displayed by Lieutenant Pickard and Assistant Surgeon Temple under the trying circumstances in which they were placed,” says the official citation.</p>
        <p>Particular interest attaches to the award of the V.C. to Major Charles Heaphy, of the Auckland Militia, because the statutes governing the award of the decoration had to be especially amended to allow of his receiving it.</p>
        <p>Heaphy won his cross at the fight in the scrub at Waiari, on the Mangapiko River. A party of the 40th Regiment were bathing in the creek when a force of Maoris, hidden in the bushes, fired on them. The soldiers were reinforced by a force of about 200 men under Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Henry Marshment Havelock, Bt., V.C., C.B., with whom was Captain Heaphy, and the Maoris were driven downstream, where they took cover, and fought it out, hand to hand with the forest rangers, until evening.</p>
        <p>Early in the skirmish, Captain Heaphy became the target for a volley from a distance of a few feet while he was engaged in assisting a wounded soldier of the 40th Regiment, who had fallen into a hollow among the thickest of the concealed Maoris. Five balls pierced Heaphy's clothes and cap, and he was wounded in three places. A soldier of the same regiment came to his assistance and he directed others to where the natives were, and then, despite his wounds, he continued to attend to the injured for the remainder of the day.</p>
        <p>Under the original conditions, the Victoria Cross could only be awarded to officers and men of the Imperial Forces, but by a Royal Warrant issued on New Year's Day, 1867, it was made available to the Colonial Forces in the following terms:—</p>
        <p>“Whereas during the progress of the operations which We have undertaken against the insurgent native tribes in Our Colony of New Zealand, it has happened that persons serving in the local forces of Our said Colony have performed feats of gallantry in consideration of which they are not according to the strict provisions of Our said recited Warrant, eligible for this high distinction.</p>
        <p>“Now know ye that We of Our especial grace, certain knowledge and mere motion, had thought fit hereby to signify Our Royal Will and Pleasure that the said decoration may be conferred on such persons aforesaid who may be qualified to receive the same in accordance with the rules and ordinances made, ordained and established by Us for the government thereof …”</p>
        <p>In view of the special circumstances, three years elapsed between the deed and the gazetting of the award, and Heaphy also received promotion to the rank of major. He came to New Zealand in 1839 as draughtsman to the New Zealand Company and distinguished himself as an explorer in the South Island. Three years after his arrival in this country he published a book in London dealing with his life in the colony and the state of the company's settlements. He executed some of the earliest and most beautiful views of New Zealand which were afterwards published in England, and on the occasion on which he won his V.C. he was serving in the role of staff surveyor.</p>
        <p>The man whose life he saved was the means by which LieutenantColonel John Carstairs McNeill, of the 107th Regiment, gained the Cross, the award being made “for the bravery and presence of mind which he displayed on 30th March, 1864, which is described by Private Vosper of the Colonial Defence Force.”</p>
        <p>Vosper, with another private named Gibson, of the same force, was acting as escort to Major, later LieutenantColonel McNeill, aide-de-camp to Sir Duncan Cameron, who was proceeding to Te Awamutu. When about a mile from Ohaupo (“Ohanpu” says the “Gazette”), Major McNeill sighted a body of enemy in front and after sending Private Gibson back to Ohaupo for infantry reinforcements, went on leisurely, with Vosper, to the top of a rise, to watch the enemy.</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail031a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail031a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail031a-g"/>
            <head>(Photo, A. W. Jones.)<lb/>
The Department's Workshops at Otahuhu, Auckland, as seen from the air.</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>Suddenly the pair were attacked by about fifty natives who had been concealed in the fern close at hand. Their only chance of escape was by riding for their lives, but as they turned to gallop away, Vosper's horse fell and threw him. The natives rushed forward to seize him, but Major McNeill, on finding that Vosper was not following, returned to the scene of the ambush, caught the horse and then helped Vosper to mount.</p>
        <p>The Gazette relates that “the natives were firing sharply at them and were so near, that according to Vosper's statement, it was only by galloping as hard as they could that they escaped. He says he owes his life entirely to Lieutenant Colonel McNeill's assistance, for he could not have caught his horse alone, and in a few minutes, must have been killed.”</p>
        <p>With the battle of Orakau, which began the following day, the Waikato War faded out, and the scene shifts to the East Coast and the attack on the Gate Pa at Tauranga on 29th April where Commander Hay's gallant assault earned V.C.s for two of the participants.</p>
        <p>Heavy artillery fire had made a breach in the left angle of the main redoubt and a storming party moved in, four abreast, after which there was a terrible hand-to-hand combat. The soldiers tried to storm one wing of the pa, while the naval party, 150 strong, under Commander Hay of
<pb xml:id="n32" n="32"/>
H.M.S. “Harrier,” made for the central redoubt. The attackers were repulsed, however. Nearly every naval officer was killed and Commander Hay was mortally wounded in the abdomen.</p>
        <p>The Victoria Crosses were awarded on the testimony of Commodore Sir William Wiseman, Bt., C.B., to Captain of the Foretop Samuel Mitchell, of H.M.S. “Harrier,” and AssistantSurgeon William George Manley, of the Royal Artillery.</p>
        <p>Mitchell, it transpires, received his V.C. for disobeying an order. He was doing duty as Captain's coxswain at the time, and entered the pa with Commander Hay. When the Commander was wounded, Mitchell tried to bring him out, but the Commander ordered him to leave him and seek his own safety. Mitchell, however, picked him up and carried him away, where he was attended by Manley who had volunteered to enter the pa with the storming party.</p>
        <p>After he had attended to Commander Hay, Manley re-entered the pa to see if he could find any more wounded. When the tide of battle turned and the storming party were driven out, Manley was one of the last officers to leave.</p>
        <p>One 21st June, Colonel Greer found the Maoris entrenching for a formidable pa at Te Ranga and he attacked at once. The natives made a desperately gallant stand, but they wilted before a successful bayonet charge, and the few survivors broke and fled. The Tauranga campaign was over.</p>
        <p>The winners of the awards were Sergeant John Murray of the 68th Regiment and Captain Frederick Augustus Smith of the 43rd Regiment. Sergeant Murray received his “for his distinguished conduct when the enemy's rifle position was being stormed.” He ran up to a rifle-pit containing eight or ten Maoris and without any assistance, killed or wounded every one of them, and afterwards “proceeded up the works, fighting desperately and still continuing to bayonet the enemy.”</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail032a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail032a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail032a-g"/>
            <head>Paeroa Junction, on the Thames Line, North Island, New Zealand. (Rly. Publicity photo.)</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>Captain Smith is stated to have led on his company in the most gallant manner. Although wounded before he had reached the rifle-pits, he jumped down into them where he began a hand-to-hand encounter with the enemy, thereby giving his men great encouragement and setting them a fine example.</p>
        <p>Although it is not mentioned in the official citation, there is the authority of Mr. Cowan for saying that Captain Smith led the right of the advance and received two wounds, and that Sergeant Murray killed a Maori about to tomahawk a corporal who had just run him through with his bayonet.</p>
        <p>We return again to the West Coast of the North Island to Cameron's campaign in which the last Victoria Cross won in New Zealand was gained by Captain Hugh Shaw of the 18th Regiment.</p>
        <p>Cameron and two hundred men were encamped on a toe-toe and flaxcovered plain on which were numerous small lakes, with the bush on the right flank, on 24th January, 1865, when the camp was attacked from the cover of the vegetation by a party of Maoris which had the support of a larger force hidden in the bush. The natives had surprised the camp in broad daylight, but they were driven out again and Shaw was ordered to occupy a position about half a mile from the camp. He advanced in skirmishing order, but when about thirty yards from the bush deemed it prudent to retire to a palisade thirty yards further back, as two of his men had been wounded. Finding that one of them was unable to move, he called for volunteers to advance to the front and carry the man to the rear. Four privates volunteered and accompanied him under heavy fire to the place where the wounded man lay. They were successful in getting their burden back to safety.</p>
        <p>Smoking in tram-cars has given rise to quite an animated correspondence in a Melbourne paper. “I think men are abominably selfish,” runs one letter, “smoking their horrible pipes and cigarettes they will enter a car perhaps half full of ladies, many of whom (even in this ‘advanced’ day) find tobacco smoke most offensive. Surely these men might refrain from smoking for the little while they are travelling by tram? But the courtesy formerly paid to my sex is dead.” Now isn't that about the limit? Special cars are provided for the use of smokers, and yet ladies (who don't smoke in public conveyances) will persist in rushing them, with the result that smokers are “crowded out.” Happily complaints about tobacco-smoke are rare in N.Z.— because most men here smoke “Toasted,” and its pure, sweet fragrance disarms criticism. All four brands— Cavendish, Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Riverhead Gold, and Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead)—are practically without nicotine (being toasted), and perfectly harmless.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n33" n="33"/>
      <div decls="#text-11-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d12" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409686">The Wisdom of the Maori</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408259"><hi rend="c">Tohunga</hi></name>).</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d12-d1" type="section">
          <head>The Lampreys and the Sacred Stones.</head>
          <p>In a recent number of this Magazine I mentioned the very ancient sacred relies which are preserved at the Motu, Bay of Plenty, as fish-bringing talismans. In Taranaki, too, I have come across survivals of this belief in the efficacy of certain sacred stones which have been handed down for centuries among the tohunga families of the tribes. The old warrior chief TuPatea te Rongo, of South Taranaki, told me of his firm belief in the mouri, which ensured an abundance of lamprey eels, a great delicacy of the Maoris.</p>
          <p>Tu-patea said that he possessed one of those mouri, or whatu-kura, perhaps the most sacred of all. “I hold it,” he said, “because I am now the chief keeper among the Pakakohi people, of the ancient knowledge handed down by our ancestors. This mouri-wai [talisman of the waters] is hidden away in a certain spot not far from where we are sitting now.” (I was visiting Tu-patea at his home, Te Takere-nui-o-Aotea, at Taumaha.) “This stone is not large, but it is heavy; it is circular in shape, with a hollow in the centre. At the spot where I conceal it in the ground there is a lizard, and this lizard lives in the hole in the stone. It is, in fact, the guardian [kai-tiaki] of the stone; it is the personification of a deity. The peculiar mana of the stone is made manifest in the water. When the season comes for catching the piharau (lampreys) in the Patea River, I unearth the stone, and take it down, to the river yonder, below my farm, and I place it in the water at a certain rock, reciting the ancient prayers. The efficacy of the mouri is there demonstrated by the great abundance of piharau. They are attracted to the spot in very great numbers and are in good fat condition, and our catch is large, season after season. We are particularly fond of this kind of riverfish because of the absence of bones. Our mouri-wai never fails us. It is of great antiquity; it is called The Great Whatu of Turi—who was our ancestral chief, twenty-four generations ago; he commanded the canoe Aotea which voyaged to this country from Tahiti. This is not the only sacred whatu of the fisheries used in Taranaki to-day. There is a similar stone kept near the mouth of the Tangahoe River; it is revered by the people there, and is placed in the water, with invocations to the atua, when the fishing time comes round.”</p>
          <p>So spoke grey old Tu-Patea, a thoroughgoing type of the conservative race, who fought the pakeha strenuously in his day. He was always delighted to recall the past, and we went over some of the old battlefields together and he described events of the 1868–69 campaign on the spot from the Maori standpoint, or rather shooting point. He has gone to the Reinga now, but all his curious lore has not perished with him. There are still certain elders in the West Coast tribes who treasure some of the ancient ways.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d12-d2" type="section">
          <head>Some Bush Medicine Lore.</head>
          <p>There are medicinal virtues in many of our native trees and shrubs, uses imperfectly known to the pakeha as yet, but well appreciated by the Maoris who know the bush. These healing virtues of the indigenous vegetation are one of the many reasons why New Zealanders should strive for the preservation of the forests and the cultivation of the beautiful and useful plants. Imperfectly known to the pakeha; still, many backblocks men and women long ago discovered the goodness in emergency of such bush remedies as decoctions of koromiko leaves for dysentry, the boiled juice of flax-roots for medicine and the curing of cuts, the bark of the pukatea tree for toothache. There is a wide field for chemical research in investigating the Maori bush pharmacopeia.</p>
          <p>Some plants have their uses for the brewing of tonics and stomachics, such as the kohekohe. Others are greatly efficacious as dressings for wounds and skin troubles; the kohukohu moss that hangs from forest trees is one of these. Besides the pukatea tree, the ngaio, so plentiful about Wellington and South Island Coasts, can be turned to account as a relief for toothache; another is the kawakawa, which is also a remedy for colds. So, too, I am told, is the kumarahou plant, so plentiful on the North Auckland hills, once covered with kauri forest. The inner bark of the rata vine, boiled, is said to be an excellent cure for open wounds. The pith of the korau, or mamaku, fern-tree is a good dressing for sores and chafings; it is applied raw. The leaves of the tarata, and several other small aromatic shrubs, chewed and made into a kind of paste, have often proved good medicine for application to saddle-sore horses. The small globules on some kinds of seaweed are sometimes chewed by the Maoris and used as a gargle or spray for sore throats. The secret of this seaweed remedy seems to be that the globules contain iodine.</p>
          <p>Our New Zealand Board of Scientic Research might very profitably devote some attention to this apparently limitless branch of our country's natural resources, and begin by enlisting the help of the old men and women —especially the women—of the ancient bush-wise people, particularly in such places as Taranaki and the Urewera Country.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d12-d3" type="section">
          <head>Towser, Schnauzer and Co.</head>
          <p>The huge Alsatian dog one sees occasionally stalking the place like a policeman is not beloved by the farmer, and is out of place in the towns. Unemployment is just as bad for dogs as for men. The only excuse for keeping a dog is that it is of some use. I wonder what possible excuse can be found for the latest doggy importation into New Zealand, as reported from Auckland. This is a pair of what are described as Schnauzer dogs, pepper-and-salt of colour, shaggy of coat, with “exceptionally large paws.” (Remember Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf: “Oh, grandmamma, what large teeth you have!” “All the better to bite you with my dear!”)</p>
          <p>The Schnauzer is German of breed. It may be of use in its homeland, but the sheepfarmer in New Zealand is quite content with the Scotch and other varieties of shepherd-dog he has already, and the cow-farmer is not looking for any barking strangers. All things considered, the Towser we know is preferable to the Schnauzer we don't.</p>
          <p>
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            </figure>
          </p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <pb xml:id="n34" n="34"/>
      <div decls="#text-12-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d13" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409687">A Mountain of the Antipodes</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408343"><hi rend="c">Ruru</hi></name>.)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d13-d1" type="section">
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail034a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail034a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail034a-g"/>
              <head>(Govt. Publicity Photo)<lb/>
Mt. Egmont (8,260ft.) North Island, New Zealand.</head>
            </figure>
          </p>
          <p><hi rend="sc">On</hi> the west coast of New Zealand's North Island, stands a solitary cone. White-capped and beautiful, it dominates the rich plains for miles around. Although from its slopes other mountains of our mountainous land may be clearly seen, yet Egmont rules without rival the whole wide stretch of the Taranaki Plains. In the days when Egmont's name was still the beautiful Maori word “Taranaki,” a strange story grew among that most poetical and imaginative race to account for the solitary grandeur of its position.</p>
          <p>Eighty air-miles away stand the two great peaks of Tongariro and Ruapehu. Tongariro, black and battle-scarred with lava—Ruapehu, white and exquisite beside him. The Maori tells that in the beginning of things, Tongariro and Taranaki fell in love with Ruapehu the white, Ruapehu the wonderful, and fought for her, hurling stones and lava at each other. The battle went against Taranaki, who fled, the path he took being now the course of the famous Wanganui River, in whose bed great rounded stones are still shown as the tears shed by him as he went. Taranaki reached the plains before daylight halted him forever. When the mists come down over his snowy head the Maori says he veils it, weeping for his lost love, whom he can see, but may never meet.</p>
          <p>In these days Taranaki, or as named by Captain Cook, Egmont, is a place not of superstitious awe and reverence, but a peak to be climbed, and incidentally a lovely reserve of the unique and fast-vanishing New Zealand forest. Rising as it does, 8,260 feet straight from the fertile plains of the North Island's finest dairying country, the mountain is clothed with primeval forest from its base to within about four thousand feet from the eternal snows of its summit. At this point the bush runs out into scrub, and so into gravel, stone, and finally snow and ice.</p>
          <p>As a climb, under summer conditions, it may be done with comparative ease from the northern side, the trip to and from the big comfortable hostel which perches about three thousand feet up, takes about six hours, four up and two down.</p>
          <p>Winter, however, tells a different story. Then, on every important path and by the guides' house, appear great notices warning foolhardy climbers; and, grimmest warning of all, on the last clear space up the mountain track, stands the memorial to a brave man who died vainly trying to save an inexperienced companion.</p>
          <p>Then the snow creeps downward, blizzards shriek, and soon five feet of snow lies piled about the doors of the Hostel, and the great trees bend beneath the weight, and all the mountain is a drifted whiteness with a beauty beyond words.</p>
          <p>It is an unforgettable experience to stay for a while at the Hostel if Taranaki is in merry mood. Day after day the far-off lovers stand clear against a clear sky, the great snowy pile on whose side you cling towers in beauty above you. There is an atmosphere of absolute peace, not the terror of immensity, but the peace of understanding—the mountain has accepted you. In a little time you find that your first move in the morning is to see the mountain—in your walks down the lovely track or scrambles about the many bush paths, you pause at every view-point. And always the mountain greets you with a heartshaking vision of pure beauty.</p>
          <p>Then perhaps one night, there is a storm. Hail clatters on the roof, and thunder peals and crashes—not as it does in the lowlands, but rolling back from crag to crag in ever-softening booms until the final sound is as rich and musical as the note of a great 'cello, which it strongly resembles. No wonder that the Maori reverenced the place of such happenings; even the prosaic pakeha is conscious of awe and a mental question.</p>
          <p>To the wandering enquirer the forest clothing the slopes is of never-ending interest. It is wisely and most jealously preserved; stringent regulations forbid the damage or removal of anything whatsoever, nothing may be planted, whether native or foreign, and all life is protected to the limit of possibility.</p>
          <p>Across the great quiet valleys tuis and bell-birds clong and ring at each other. No word really describes the deep rich tui note—it must be heard. Everywhere you go you feel eyes upon you, and looking round discover that every tree harbours scores of little lovely silent, balls about the size and shape of a ping-pong ball, each with a large black eye fixed with intense interest on your doings. Your movement starts into life attendant scores of “white-eyes,” wee impudent green birds. Presently there is a sudden uproar of wings close above your head —your own startled yelp mingles with the unmistakable “Whiu-whiu” of the flight which caused the Maori to give the beautiful native pigeon one of its various names.</p>
          <p>But, without these alarums, the trees themselves are enough to make the walk interesting to the most casual of trampers. Every trunk is cloaked with mosses and draped with ferns; and not only with these, for seeds falling from the trees themselves germinate on the soft mosses in incredible numbers, so that often a single trunk will carry a representative forest in miniature.</p>
          <p>Around the foot of the mountain those relics of an earlier world, the great tree ferns for which New Zealand forests are famed, rear their huge crowns of fronds, each of which may
<pb xml:id="n35" n="35"/>
be twenty feet in length, to a height of nearly fifty feet. Vandal experimenters are now making not only turned vases, but bowls, and even table-tops, of transverse sections of the trunks; for, stripped of their outer husk, these reveal marvellous intricate patterns, some of which doubtless suggested the moko or face-tattoo designs used by the old-time Maori.</p>
          <p>That strange wingless bird, the kiwi, still haunts the valleys, and in certain places, Nature's cruel joke, the vegetable caterpillar, may be dug from its last resting-place. This latter is an interesting object frequenting the neighbourhood of certain trees, which becomes perfectly lignified by the agency of a fungus. The spore of the fungus drops into the crease behind the caterpillar's head and there takes root. The fungus roots spread downwards, through the creature's body, slowly turning it to wood, until its final convulsion is fixed for all time in a perfect wooden image of itself. The fungus raises a slender stem bearing a bulrush-like head and is again ready for action.</p>
          <p>The Maori, keen observer of Nature, was perfectly conversant with the vegetable caterpillar, and a host of legends centre around it. In fact, it would be difficult to find a subject which the Maori had not studied, and for which he had not evolved an explanation, generally poetic, and perfectly satisfying to himself. Indeed, after a few weeks of association with these children of Nature it would not be hard to believe that one day Taranaki may rise in his majesty, and shaking off his snowy cloak, lift up his mighty voice once more.</p>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail035a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail035a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail035a-g"/>
              <head>The Auckland-Wellington express passing Campbell's point near Auckland.</head>
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          </p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d13-d2" type="section">
          <head>Railway Safety in New Zealand</head>
          <p>Commenting on the heavy toll or holiday road accidents, the “Christ-church Star” proceeds thus: —</p>
          <p>“The care-free spirit of the holiday mood may result in the unconscious relaxation of that degree of care which is exercised under normal conditions. The toll of accidents seems to leave us no alternatives but those of inexperience or lack of care‥ In contrast to road accidents, however, it is most gratifying, year after year, to note the entire absence of railway accidents, and in this respect the Dominion is entitled to congratulate itself.”</p>
          <p>The first shop in London for the sale of cigarettes was opened in 1863—only 70 years ago. The demand for “paper cigars,” as some people called them, was quite limited in the 'sixties. Men mostly smoked pipes and ladies hadn't learned to smoke at all! To-day the world consumes hundreds of millions of cigarettes annually. It is worthy of note, by the way that the up-to-date cigarette 'smoker “rolls his own.” 'It not only comes a lot cheaper, but smokes rolled fresh, just as you want them, are always moist and fragrant, whereas the packet goods, (even the best brands) soon go dry and lose flavour and appeal. So if you would have a really enjoyable cigarette join the “Roll-your-own” brigade. As for tobacco you can't improve on the New Zealand—Riverhead Gold, Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog) Cavendish, and Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead). They are toasted. Consequently there's very little nicotine in them, and they may be smoked with perfect safety. Even the “tobacco-glutton” is immune from harm. And for flavour and aroma you simply can't match them.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d13-d3" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Man Who Lost</hi> 21 lbs.<lb/>
<hi rend="c">Lost His Indigestion Too</hi>.<lb/>
Amusing Letter from His Wife.</head>
          <p>The fat man is proverbially good natured and easy going. But here is a fat man accused of being difficult to live with. His wife writes to tell us about him. Just read what she has to say. Her letter is candid; it is amusing; it is worth publishing word for word as she wrote it. Here it is: —</p>
          <p>“My husband a little over twelve months ago started taking Kruschen Salts for indigestion, heartburn, etc. Not only can he now eat anything (including my pastry), but he is now 13 ½ stone only, instead of 15 stone. What I consider more important than anything else, though, is the splendid effect Kruschen has had on his temper. He is now fit for a woman (not an angel) to live with. My husband is sixty next April, and I am fifty-four next June. I recommend Kruschen Salts wherever I go.” —(Mrs.) E. D.</p>
          <p>The six salts in Kruschen assist the internal organs to throw off each day the wastage and poisons that encumber the system. Then, little by little, that ugly fat goes—slowly, yes—but surely, Kruschen does not aim to reduce by rushing food through the body. Gently, but surely, it rids the system of all fat-forming food refuse, of all poisons and harmful acids which incidently give rise to rheumatism, digestive disorders and many other ills.</p>
          <p>One of the secrets of the effectiveness of Kruschen is the exact proportion of the six different salts it contains. That is why every batch of Kruschen Salts is tested and standardised by a staff of qualifie chemists, before it is passed for bottling.</p>
          <p>Thus Kruschen can always be relied upon—it will have the same happy results for you that it has had for others.</p>
          <p>Kruschen Salts is obtainable at all Chemists and Stores at 2/6 per bottle.</p>
          <pb xml:id="n36" n="36"/>
          <p>
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      <pb xml:id="n37" n="37"/>
      <div decls="#text-13-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d14" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409688">Among the Books<lb/> A Literary Page or Two</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By “<name type="person" key="name-120773"><hi rend="c">Shibli Bagarag</hi></name>.”)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d14-d1" type="section">
          <p>After long waiting, the second volume of “Legends of the Maori,” has been published by Harry H. Tombs, Wellington. Although the work was originally planned for four volumes the book just published will complete the series. The legends in the latest book are all by the late Sir Maui Pomare, and are edited by Mr. James Cowan. The illustrations by Stuart Petersen are the finest work of their kind ever done in New Zealand. His pen work has improved immeasurably over that of the first volume. Volume II. is a worthy consummation of one of the most ambitious undertakings ever attempted in this country. The binding and printing are of a high standard of artistry. The work, unfortunately, being priced at four guineas a set, is beyond the reach of the average book lover. Much credit is due to Mr. Tombs for making possible the completion of the work.</p>
          <p>Any New Zealand editor will tell you that at least fifty per cent. of the writers in this country are poets or would-be poets. Small wonder that many of these poets write so dirgefully (some of them are chronic misanthropists), for there is little or no market for their efforts in the New Zealand Press. One of the few publications paying for verse is the Magazine for which I am writing. There is, however, another oasis in our desert of poetical non-appreciativeness; this is the “New Zealand Mercury,” the latest issue of which I have just received. “The Mercury” gives small cash prizes each issue for the best poem or essay. Miss Eve Langley and Arnold Cork divide the honours in the latest issue. The work of both poets is most interesting and of a superior quality.</p>
          <p>To my mind the outstanding poem of the issue is under the rather prosaic title of “At the Sound Film.” It is a cry from the heart. “Vesper” is a sweet little song but woefully out of tune in the last line. Every New Zealand verse lover should subscribe to “The Mercury” (1/- per copy from the Editor, 35 Nairn Street. Wellington).</p>
          <p>There is, as usual, much of vital interest to artists and writers in the latest number of “Art in New Zealand.” There is a critical survey by Professor James Shelley of the annual exhibition of the Canterbury Society of Arts. I was pleased to note his remarks about the unfolding genius of Russell Clark, the young Dunedin artist. Mr. A. J. C. Fisher, likewise, reviews the Auckland Society's annual exhibition. There are other scholarly articles and essays, including one from A. R. D. Fairburn on “Some Aspects of New Zealand Arts and Letters.” also two poems. The illustrations are good, and include the two colour plates (“Karaka Berries” by Constance Bolton, “The Blue Vase” by Miles Evergood), and a number of interesting pictures in black and white.</p>
          <p>I have been privileged to see an advance copy of the most gripping Australian novel I have read. It is entitled “Landtakers,” and the author is a young Australian, Brian Penton. As a story it rivals “For the Term of His Natural Life,” although the convict life aspect is not the main foundation of the yarn. If I am not mistaken it will be the most discussed novel yet published in Australia. In size it is almost a super “omnibus” production.</p>
          <p>
            <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail037a">
              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail037a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail037a-g"/>
              <head>Lino-cut bookplate design by Miss Hilda Wiseman.</head>
            </figure>
          </p>
          <p>A slender booklet of poems has been produced by Shirley S. Morrison. I have met the author in many parts of New Zealand, sometimes looking for a job, sometimes creating one, and always with a smile on his face. His philosophy is in the first poem, “The Road of Memory,” in the book. Morrison is his own publisher and sells the book from town to town like the true nomad he is.</p>
          <p>I have read some quaint metaphors, but none so egregious as that used by A. R. D. Fairburn in an article he has written for the latest number of “Art in New Zealand.” He refers to “the umbilical cord of butter fat which has held us in strict dependence on the Motherland.”</p>
          <p>I came across a neat little triolet the other day:</p>
          <lg type="verse">
            <l>He crossed the room and took her hand,</l>
            <l>His eager eyes his joy expressed, Despite the things the others planned,</l>
            <l>He crossed the room and took her hand;</l>
            <l>She knew that he would understand</l>
            <l>Bridge bored her, so at her request</l>
            <l>He crossed the room and took her hand,</l>
            <l>His eager eyes his joy expressed.</l>
          </lg>
          <p>Here is an incident providing just another forcible reminder as to how necessary it is for writers to preserve a duplicate copy of their efforts for possible publication. Some months ago an Auckland writer received an invitation from London “Bookman” to send them an article on New Zealand poetry. The article was completed and duly posted. A week or two ago the writer received word that her article had been burned in a disastrous fire in the “Bookman” offices. They expressed their regret at the happening, and said they were still willing to publish the essay if it were rewritten.</p>
          <pb xml:id="n38" n="38"/>
          <p>I met a newspaper man the other day who claimed that he acted as travelling correspondent for the “Bulletin” in 1898 (dealing principally with the Spanish American war). Knowing the multitude of pseudo “Bulletin” staff writers and contributors I was naturally sceptical. A few days later, however, the pressman produced incontrovertible evidence in the form of a discoloured and tattered letter addressed to himself on a “Bulletin” letterhead and signed by J. F. Archibald announcing to the world that the bearer, John O'Neill, was authorised to act as travelling correspondent for the “Bulletin” in America and that any assistance given him by brother scribes particularly with regard to the Spanish-American war would be appreciated.</p>
          <p>Though the signature was Archibald's, the body of the letter was in a handwriting closely resembling that of A. G. Stephens. On the left-hand side of the paper were printed a number of testimonials to the “Bulletin” from such celebrities as Mark Twain, Max O'Rell, etc. The document is all the more interesting as it was concerned in the wreck of the “Osaba” off the Australian coast many years ago. John O'Neill is thankful, that not only did he save his life on that occasion,” but also that he rescued, after a soaking in the ocean, the historical document from the “Bulletin.”</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d14-d2" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Reviews</hi>.</head>
          <p>“Winds of Heaven,” by Nelle Scanlan (Jarrold's, London), is the third of the trilogy of the history of the Pencarrow family. Leaving aside her first novel and her outstanding journalistic work, no other New Zealand novel writer has achieved so much as has Miss Scanlan by completing this notable saga. Built on the basis of sales and indomitable industry Miss Scanlan's record must go unchallenged. From a rough estimate the trilogy must run into half a million of words. The first novel, “Pencarrow,” is now in its ninth edition, and the second, “Tides of Youth,” in its fourth. “Winds of Heaven,” because of its all devouring interest, will, I think, issue a strong sales challenge to its predecessors. We see the Pencarrows revelling in their after-war prosperity. Kelly ambitiously increases his estate and goes in for horse racing. The family is living in the lap of luxury. Then comes the world depression and the Pencarrow's are forced to grapple with the harsh problem of life. Romance, humour and tragedy make a full story rich in vital interest. Miss Scanlan has reason to be proud of the completion of this notable saga.</p>
          <p>“The Road to Nowhere,” by Maurice Walsh (Angus and Robertson, Sydney), is one of the most delightful novels I have read for months. Maurice Walsh is an artist in every sense of the word. His word pictures are rich with colour, whether the touch be tragic or humorous. You live with his characters, and what a wonderful journey to be with them—in a tilt cast with romance and the beauty of Ireland as a background. Rogue McCoy is an appealing, if sombre hero, and I am sure you'll all fall in love with Ailish Conroy and Julie Brien. The murder mystery, the pivot of the story, provides a tragic background to the rich strain of delightful comedy running through the novel.</p>
          <p>“The World's Conundrums,” by A. N. Field (A. G. Betts and Son, Nelson), is another remarkable book on world problems, by the author of “The Truth About the Slump.” The book contains a translation by the late Victor Marsden (formerly correspondent of the London “Morning Post”) of the astounding protocols of the meetings of the Learned Elders of Zion. It would be unwise for me to comment on such a remarkable publication, dealing as it does with such high-explosive matter.</p>
          <p>“Australia's Backyards,” by R. H. Milford (Macquarie Head Press, Sydney), is as its title implies a picture of the great back country of the continent. The author makes his hazardous journey by motor car, and tells a vital story of the country and its inhabitants, dwelling occasionally on the moral, or immoral habits of the latter. Like most backyards, that of the Commonwealth could stand some tidying up, and the author is not slow to say so. As there is usually an attractive front garden apologising for the backyard behind it, so the author bestows his praises on the grandeur of those parts of Australia that show the fruits of man's labour and cultivation. A most interesting travel book.</p>
          <p>“Old Days Old Ways,” by Mary Gilmore (Angus and Robertson, Sydney), will delight the hearts of many old folk throughout Australia and New Zealand. It will also be a revelation to the younger generation as to the hard path travelled by the pioneers of Australia. Only a writer of the quality and charm of Mary Gilmore could invest such a recital of apparently trivial happenings with such compelling interest. It is like turning over many quaint and forgotten ornaments on an old-fashioned “what-not.” The delicate picture is etched across the tremendous background of life in the early days.</p>
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        <div xml:id="t1-body-d14-d3" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Shibli Listens In</hi>.</head>
          <p>The takings on the first day of Whitcombe and Tombs (Wellington) annual sale recently were a record in the history of the firm.</p>
          <p>A one-act play competition, with a prize of #3 3s. is announced by the proprietors of “Art in New Zealand.”</p>
          <p>The Laura Bogue Luffman Memorial Fund Committee, Sydney, is offering biennially a prize of #10 which in 1934 will be given for the best one-act play. Mrs. William Moore (Dora Wilcox) informs me that the competition is open to New Zealanders.</p>
          <p>
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      <div decls="#text-14-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d15" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409689">London Underground<lb/> Travel Trials and Humours in Mid-Victorian Days.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(Written and Illustrated by <name type="person" key="name-408342"><hi rend="c">Marryat Jenkins</hi></name>.)</byline>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail039a">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail039a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail039a-g"/>
            <head>“The ‘tablet’ jumps from the footplate.”</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p><hi rend="sc">To</hi> those of us who are fortunate enough to take a trip to the Old Country, the London Underground Railways are as wonderful as they are bewildering.</p>
        <p>Beneath the surface of Piccadilly Circus is another world—a city with shops and restaurants, and a booking hall as big as a theatre. Escalators descend through tunnels whose glistening tiles reflect the brilliance of a thousand lights, and advertisements rival the genius and artistry of the Royal Academy. A hundred feet down, trains of almost Pullman luxury are travelling at forty miles an hour with only seconds of time between the departure of one, and the arrival of the next; trains that flash like bright meteors through the very bowels of the earth to emerge in green fields and sunny woodlands twenty miles away.</p>
        <p>A hundred years ago London had advanced no further in transport matters than had the Romans, fifteen hundred years before that. Thus, with the coming of the railways, in 1836, the streets soon proved hopelessly inadequate to the ever-increasing burden of passengers and goods which the terminal stations disgorged upon them.</p>
        <p>By 1850 matters had come to such a pass that a journey from Euston to Charing Cross occupied much more time, and was a far more adventurous undertaking, than one from London to Brighton. Modern traffic congestion is as nothing by comparison—drays, wagons, carts, cabs, omnibuses and even lordly victorias, became jammed in horrible confusion; horses straining and slipping on the rough cobbles, drivers vying with each other in flights of ribald invective—descending sometimes to engage in a bout of fisticuffs—while porters and loafers sneered and jeered at their efforts, and timid ladies shrank behind the curtains of their broughams with a prayer for deliverance.</p>
        <p>The idea for an underground railway to link up the various termini and relieve the congestion of the streets originated from the City Solicitor—a gentleman named Charles Pearson—and roundly criticised and ridiculed he was for his temerity. The idea of a lawyer daring to suggest anything so far outside his own province! He was, however, a determined fighter, and it was principally through his efforts in the face of tremendous opposition that the Metropolitan Railway was opened from Farringdon Street to Paddington in 1863.</p>
        <p>The line was, of course, operated by steam, and engines that were supposed to consume their own smoke and steam were designed for it. To this end they burnt coke and were fitted with condensing apparatus, but by the end of the first day they had produced an atmosphere in the stations and tunnels which was an outstanding feature of London life for forty years to come!</p>
        <p>The directors were fully alive to this defect of their railway, and did their best to make passengers comfortable in other ways; thus the carriages displayed a luxury far in advance of any other line of the time—there were mirrors and carpets, comfortable cushions, hot-water bottles and oil lamps. These latter were not quite all that they might have been, in fact they frequently went out in the tunnels, and one may picture the city man of the 'sixties, homeward bound at twelve miles per hour reading his paper by the light of a candle stuck in the window frame.</p>
        <p>In 1868, the “Met” acquired a northern extension from Baker Street to Swiss Cottage and on this line, being single, the tablet system was adopted for the safe working of trains. For a while the tablets employed were men, and to distinguish them and ensure that the driver had the right one, they wore red and blue belts respectively. Thus the “up” train from Swiss Cottage carried a blue belt, and the “down” train from Baker Street, a red. St. John's Wood was the station where the trains were timed to pass, and here it was that the tablets changed over also—Blue Belt returning to Swiss Cottage and Red Belt to Baker Street. As the train steamed in the “tablets” would jump from the footplates and slide along the platforms until the end walls of the station checked their progress. This evolution was executed with such dexterity, and, one may be sure, with such a wealth of pungent cockney humour as to excite the greatest admiration from both passengers and railway staff. Indeed people came from miles to witness the feat, and the platforms became polished along the slide in a manner to “compare with the finest ballroom in London.” Perhaps it was this latter fact that caused the adoption of a more orthodox form of tablet, to wit, a wooden one, since one can readily
<figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail039b"><graphic url="Gov09_05Rail039b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail039b-g"/><head>“Reading by the light of a candle.”</head></figure>
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<figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail040a"><graphic url="Gov09_05Rail040a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail040a-g"/><head>“A bout of fisticuffs.”</head></figure>
believe that painful falls were the lot of passengers who stepped unwarily upon the slide.</p>
        <p>Three years later the Metropolitan District came into being as a separate company with an improved type of condensing locomotive. These engines could, and often did, draw twelve fully loaded coaches up an incline of 1 in 45.</p>
        <p>The coaches were four-wheeled affairs of a certain springless rigidity and lighted by coal gas carried in long rubber bags on the roofs; they were, at a later period, equipped with a humorous gadget called a “next station indicator.” This was a name plate which worked in a slot between the compartments and was operated by the guard who pulled a string to bring the name of the next station into view, but so frequently did the contrivance get out of order, that visitors to town despaired of trying to arrive at their proper destination, and alighted at the station the name of which appealed to them most!</p>
        <p>Twelve days at sea without a smoke! Such was the experience of the crew of a motor-boat (Auckland to Papeete) not long since. Leaking benzine was the cause of the trouble. The fumes were everywhere. They dared not strike a match! Their joy on being able to “light up” again after landing may be imagined. Even their inability to prepare hot food and drink was as nothing compared with enforced abstinence from the weed all that time. Tobacco is a boon when it's good. When it's reeking with nicotine (as so often happens) it may prove as deadly as benzine fumes. Of course the danger in the case of impure tobacco may be delayed for years. But, sooner or later “it gets there just the same.” The world's purest tobaccos are the toasted. You can smoke Riverhead Gold. Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Cavendish, or Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead) without the slightest fear of consequences. Toasting renders them absolutely safe. In this respect (and in all others) they are unique. They are the only toasted brands manufactured.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
        <p>From the District also originated the legend of the Old Lady of the Inner Circle. She was very stout and the carriage doors were narrow. She discovered that she was entering the wrong train, and attempted to back out again; but those treacherous narrow doors were her undoing, and she became hopelessly stuck. The guard misunderstanding the situation and being anxious to start his train hurried up, and placing his foot where it would do the most good bundled her unceremoniously into the carriage.</p>
        <p>At the next station she once more attempted to leave the train backwards and once more the guard assisted her to enter it; and so it went on, round and round the Inner Circle; some say for years, until the old steam trains were finally withdrawn!</p>
        <p>Perhaps it was inevitable that an American should have come to wipe out all that was so ludicrous, so exasperating, and so piquantly Dickensian about the old underground. The Yerkes electrification took three years to complete—but once completed it obliterated overnight the old system with its leisurely traditions and “opera bouffe” atmosphere. In what other city at the close of the nineteenth century, but the capital of the British Empire would a guard, having missed the door of his van sprint through the tunnels in pursuit, and what is more, catch it up at the next station?</p>
        <p>
          <figure xml:id="Gov09_05Rail040b">
            <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail040b.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail040b-g"/>
            <head>“The old lady of the inner circle.”</head>
          </figure>
        </p>
        <p>The last steam train left Ealing in June, 1905, and one dimly recalls being ushered into an incredibly decrepit old first class carriage. It was raining, and a sooty trickle dripped through a crack in the roof. An old gentleman, resplendent in silk hat and morning coat got in, and glancing down at the sodden cushions and up at the leaking roof, spread the pages of his “Morning Post” upon the seat and opening his umbrella sat blowing out his cheeks and staring down his nose—the very personification of the die-hard spirit of the “golden years”; the generation that laid the foundations of the most wonderful railway system in the world.</p>
        <p>
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        </p>
      </div>
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      <div xml:id="t1-body-d16" type="section">
        <head>
          <hi rend="c">Variety in Brief</hi>
        </head>
        <p>Who does not thrill to the sight or sound of a train gliding past? Who ever could think of a train as unromantic? Is it not the finished product, the symbol of a one-time vision —a dream come true?</p>
        <p>Whether we see a train as a small snake-like speck away in the distance—its engine gradually eating up the miles along the shining railroad track, till it finally comes upon us in all its magnificent vigour and energy—pulsating with life, or whether it just remains a distant scene gliding gracefully along adding a piquant touch of life to some beautiful scene, it is ever a welcome sight.</p>
        <p>How often the sight of the train heartens lonely men and women of the way-back country, by its mere passing, bringing as it does, a feeling of something tangible—fleeting though it be—of the city and Life! And to the juvenile heart—joyous moments as they wave happily by the wayside, eagerly watching for an answering wave from some window when the train speeds upon its way; and to get down to the mundane—well, no need to enumerate upon the many uses, and the great practical service it renders to humanity in general. Therefore, may we ever “toast” the modest engine-drivers as they so efficiently and capably handle the engines—never looking for the limelight; and may we ever be fervently thankful for the trains when we go speeding along in them—outward or homeward! along the silver railroad track—O.M.S.</p>
        <p>Close by the Dunedin railway station, in a green and flowery spot, reposes Josephine. A sturdy and healthy looking relic of the past. Josephine—the first railway engine to run on the Dunedin-Port Chalmers railway, way back in 1872. Very different from our modern engines is Josephine; she is a bright green in colour, and about the length of an ordinary shunting engine; she has two ungainly V-shaped funnels (out of all proportion), one at either end, and halfway between the boilers is the enginedriver's cab. It is a far cry from the daring days of 1872 when Josephine must have rushed disgracefully along the permanent way at a speed of fully twenty miles an hour. She has had her day, and now she thinks of her past glories as monsters of the present move to and fro in the railway yards behind her. Not so long ago Josephine was granted a new lease of life, and for a time attracted a little of the attention that once had been wholly hers. That was when she occupied a position among the Government exhibits at the big Dunedin Exhibition, 1925–26. Josephine formed the “then” of a then-and-now exhibit; the “now” exhibit being the giant “Passchendaele,” the biggest locomotive built up to that time by the Government Railways Department. —C.H.F.</p>
        <p>A custom of the Maoris in some parts of New Zealand was to render “tapu” suitable saplings of the totara tree from which ultimately canoes could be formed. In such saplings, a cut was made in the bark by means of a stone adze, the result being a gradual line of decay above the incision. This became extended as the tree grew. Such trees when fully grown, if found suitable for canoe purposes, would be felled from below the “tapu” cut. The line of decay greatly facilitated the hollowing of the log, as fire could be readily used for carrying on the work. In the Waimea (Nelson) district, examples of trees prepared in this way are still to be seen. Probably the most outstanding of these is one situated towards the north-east corner of Snowden's Bush—a delightful spot for tourists on the popular “Three Bridges” drive. —Sark.</p>
        <p>A crudely carved piece of old wood in my possession may stand as a good illustration of varying values. The earliest mention of it is that when Turi was leaving Hawaiki, he lifted it to point at the disappearing coastline with the exclamation, “He, the extinction of Thigi,” or as we say, Fiji. With the Maori habit of naming articles from episodes with which they had been connected, the paddle was afterwards known as “The Extinction of Fiji.” Settling at Patea, Turi entered into alliances, matrimonial and possessive, with the Tangata Whenua, its earlier owners, and with them engaged in feuds with tribal enemies further up the river. Returning from a great battle, the locality of which less than fifty years ago was still believed on certain occasions to echo faithfully its dread sounds, Turi again lifted the paddle and pointed down the river. But it slipped from his hand into the water. Several generations later two lads bathing in the river about two hundred yards below the spot where the paddle was lost, discovered, in diving, a strange paddle. With the Maori's insistent memory of details, the incident was recorded so faithfully that it was identified by the priests, from its crude pattern of carving, as the lost “Extinction of Fiji.” Thereafter it was cherished as tapu, the only article in existence believed actually to have belonged to the great Turi. After the Maori war it was given by a chief to a member of the Armed Constabulary, who since his early boyhood had been intimate with Maoris, and who settled in Patea. His family caring less for the old trophy, it hung about during several changes of habitation, till someone who was building a pig-sty noticed it, and thought it would make a good strong batten for the yard fence. Fortunately, it fell out of the dray while being carried along a by-road for its intended purpose, and a passer-by threw it into the grass beside the road. As it had been promised for many years to the writer, on returning several months later from a distant school, she made instant and vigorous search, and found it. —“Waiokura.”</p>
        <p>
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        </p>
      </div>
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      <div decls="#text-15-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d17" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409690"><hi rend="c">Our Women's Section</hi><lb/> Timely Notes and Useful Hints.</name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>By <name type="person" key="name-408161"><hi rend="c">Helen</hi></name>
</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d1" type="section">
          <head>
            <hi rend="c">Flower Effects</hi>
          </head>
          <p><hi rend="sc">I Have</hi> been picking violets in a friend's garden; yesterday I was given jonquils. Now, come hail, come sleet, come snow, I care not, for the fragrance of spring is about me. Somehow, I am not pleased with my jars of berries and autumn leaves which delighted me a few weeks back. Today there is something elderly about them—a tatterdemalion ragged crew. I believe I will discard them. My violets do not care for such ancient company, and the freshness of my jonquils is affronted by their garishness.</p>
          <p>Now that the leaves and berries are gone, my living-room shows in its true light. The general effect of faded dustiness cannot be disguised. Luckily, sales are still on, and material for loose covers for chairs and chesterfield will be cheap. While I am buying, I will look for remnants for cushion covers, and material for chair-backs for the drawing-room. My bedroom really needs new curtains and the spare room a rug. I must remember to buy linen for a buffet-runner to match the new loose covers.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d2" type="section">
          <head>Advanced Spring Styles.</head>
          <p>Contrast is the key-note of the suit problem. The coat, long or short, contrasts in colour and even in material with the skirt. For instance, a plain brown coat of light woollen material is worn with a brown and blue plaid skirt. Accessories are brown.</p>
          <p>
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            </figure>
          </p>
          <p>The tailored suit has a slim, narrow skirt with a short jacket or a finger-tip or three-quarter length swing coat.</p>
          <p>Remember that accessories should accentuate the colour note of the suit.</p>
          <p>Blouses of handkerchief linen or lawn will be worn, and plain and patterned organdie will be popular.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d3" type="section">
          <head>These Wet Days.</head>
          <p>First essentials are rain-coat and umbrella. Rain-coats are so attractive nowadays that we can be as smart on wet days as on fine. Rain hats are popular with a few, but for city wear I think a small hat or cap and an umbrella are the best solution. Gloves and scarf should match the hat or cap.</p>
          <p>Goloshes are no longer the clumsy contraptions they used to be. They are a neat and sensible addition to the wet day outfit. If you live some distance from the train, zipped boots or leggings will be a boon.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d4" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Bed-Spreads</hi>. Some Suggestions for the Average Needlewoman.</head>
          <p>Good bed-spreads are of great importance in adding to the attractiveness of the home. The original purpose of the bed-spread was to keep the blankets free from dust and grime. During some of the gorgeous furnishing periods of the past—for instance, the time of the great Du Barri—the bed-spread became almost too costly and elaborate for general use, and white became popular. The “White” period lasted for a long time. During our grandmother's (or perhaps great-grandmother's) time it was the custom to crochet a wonderful spread with a wide knitted lace border. Truly a tremendous piece of work which sometimes took years to accomplish. Accompanying the crochet spread would most likely be a marvellous patchwork quilt, all sewn by hand which would be quite a work of art.</p>
          <p>During the past few years we have gone back to colours. At the present time colour schemes are so varied that coloured sheets and blankets are used with spreads of almost every hue and material.</p>
          <p>Many different varieties of bedspreads are to be found in the shops, but we are only concerned with those that we can make ourselves, for this kind of needlework is interesting and gives lasting satisfaction. With the aid of a sewing machine and some original ideas the average needlewoman can work wonders with simple materials
<pb xml:id="n43" n="43"/>
bought at small cost. When buying the fabric make sure that it is of the fadeless variety.</p>
          <p>For an inexpensive and quickly made spread, cretonne or chintz is satisfactory material. Allow three widths for a double-bed and two widths for a single one. For the former, just join the three widths together and for the latter, cut one of the widths right down its centre, and the narrow widths should be sewn to the sides of the other width. By this means a join down the centre is avoided, and the work has a much better effect. A plain broad band sewn on the edges of both sides and ends, often improves the appearance of the spread. This band should he mitred at the corners and finished with a narrow hem, and it should tone with some colour in the figured material.</p>
          <p>Heavy fadeless plain cotton materials or mercercised poplins in dainty pastel shades may be made up in the same way as the above, but the, joins would have a more finished appearance if machine hemstitched. They are quite effective, however, if left plain. If some form of embellishment is desired an embroidered or applique design would look well.</p>
          <p>Coloured linen spreads are beautiful and almost everlasting, and have the merit of being inexpensive to make. They require to be rather carefully handled and cannot be as quickly made as those of the cotton variety. They are costly to buy, and the maker who is prepared to take the time and trouble to put her best work into them is amply repaid by the finished result. The widths may be joined by machinestitching, machine-hemstitching or hard-hemstitching. Linen is always worthy of the best work that can be put into it, so hand-hemstitching is preferable. The hems are sewn to match the joining of the widths, double hemstitching being the most satisfactory.</p>
          <p>Different kinds of needlework may be used when working a linen spread. An applique of linens of different shades, or a large embroidered design makes a good finish to an article that will give joy and lasting satisfaction to the worker.</p>
          <p>
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            </figure>
          </p>
          <p>The old-time patchwork is a fascinating medium for the embellishment of a bedspread. The centre may be of patchwork with a border of plain material, or a plain centre with a patchwork border. The pieces for the patchwork may be cut about three inches square, and machine-sewn together. Join the squares into the length needed, and press the seams flat, then join the strips together. Patchwork should be lined with plain material.</p>
          <p>If you are desirous of possessing something more luxurious and opulentlooking than the simple cotton or linen spreads already described, washing satin or fadeless art silk taffeta may be used. These materials are not as expensive as they look. In this type of spread, the widths should be joined in the form of shirred seams. The shirring may be done along the edge of the flounce with the machine-gatherer and then the edges stitched together. A piping could be inserted in the joins. The centre of the spread may be lined with fleece or other soft material, and the corners of the centre decorated with triangles of shirred material. The hem may be plain or finished with gold braid, and the lower corners with gold tassels. For a good finish to the bed in the day-time, a bolster or triangular cushions covered in the shirred material are often placed across the top. Only the richer colours should be used for satin spreads, and these would include deep rose, old gold, fuchsia, saxe blue and moss green. In the taffeta shot colourings may be added to the list.</p>
          <p>The coverlets should always be made to go right up over the pillows. It is a good plan to make them a little longer than the bed and tuck the extra length under the lower edge of the pillow.</p>
          <p>It is quite a feminine trait that on entering a strange room our eyes are invariably attracted by a bed which is daintily covered.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d5" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Home Nursing</hi>. Temperature Taking.</head>
          <p>It is almost a necessity that every mother should possess and be able to use a clinical thermometer. This registers as a rule from 95 degrees to 110. Between the figures are black lines indicating intermediate degrees of temperatures, and between these are shorter lines dividing each degree into decimal parts, or tenths of a degree Normal temperature is 98.4, and this is marked on the thermometer by an arrow.</p>
          <p>A clinical thermometer is self-registering; that is, the mercury stays at the height to which it ascends until forcibly shaken down. There is a knack in doing this. A thermometer is easily broken, so care should be taken that it does not knock against anything. To shake the mercury, hold the thermometer firmly between the thumb and the first and second fingers of the right hand, with the bulb pointing downwards, then flex the hand somewhat and give it a quick, sharp jerk. If necessary, repeat this several time until the top of the mercury is well below the normal mark, but not below 95.</p>
          <p>In the cases of adults the temperature is usually taken in the mouth, the thermometer being placed under the tongue and the lips closed firmly over it. With children it may be taken under the arm or in the groin, the bulb being held close to the body. It is necessary to leave the thermometer for a longer time than when it is inserted in the mouth. Some thermometers are marked “½ minute,” others “1 minute.” If there are no markings the thermometer must be left in position at least three minutes. A mouth-temperature must not be taken within ten minutes of the time that the patient
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has had anything hot or cold in the mouth.</p>
          <p>After taking the temperature the thermometer should be carefully read and a note made of it. It should then be washed in cold water, and dried. When the temperature is being taken frequently, or in infectious cases, the thermometer should be kept standing in a glass containing a weak solution of disinfectant. A small piece of cotton wool should be placed at the bottom of the glass. Stand the glass on a small plate and have a piece of cotton wool to wipe the thermometer before using it again. When the temperature has to be taken several times during the day, a record should be kept either on a chart (which can be bought at any chemist) or on a piece of paper. Make a note of the temperature and the time it was taken, and never rely on your memory.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d6" type="section">
          <head>Muffle Up—And Catch Cold.</head>
          <p>A great factor in the maintenance of good health and resistance to germ invasion, is the proper use of clothing. If warm clothing really prevented one from catching cold, the majority of people would be immune from them.</p>
          <p>Clothing is necessary in order to protect the body from winds and cool air conditions which might abstract the heat too quickly. Too much or too tight clothing interferes with the steady evaporation of heat. Health clothing should be loose enough to allow the air to reach the skin and carry away the vapour given off by it. When the atmosphere is warm, or when extra heat is produced by muscular exertion, sweat is poured out from the glands and evaporates on the skin, thus abstracting heat and cooling the body. Our clothing should be such that the skin remains cool and dry without the drastic measure of sweating. A warm, damp skin tends to make one sensitive to chills, and is the cause of a lot of our ills.</p>
          <p>It will be seen, therefore, that it is necessary to wear porous and loosely woven undergarments to allow for the evaporation of moisture and free ventilation to the skin.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d7" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Watch That Throat</hi>.</head>
          <p>Beware of the critical moment when your throat, so thick and dry, gives warning of a cold that will work down on to your chest unless you halt its progress with Baxter's Lung Preserver.</p>
          <p>A few doses of “Baxter's” will dispel soreness, allay irritation, and reduce inflammation. “Baxter's” tonic properties give you extra resistance and recuperative ability.</p>
          <p>Be sure you buy “Baxter's.” All chemists and stores sell 1/6, 2/6 and also the extra large family size bottle, 4/6.<hi rend="sup">*</hi>
</p>
          <p>There are people who muffle themselves and their children in layers of thick, and often shrunken, woollen underwear, and who are surprised that they are for ever catching colds.</p>
          <p>Thick woollen garments next to the skin prevent the escape of moisture, and so surrounds the body with a warm, moist atmosphere, and both the skin and clothing become damp. The warm woollen garments should be the outer ones, and they should be worn according to the weather and not the calendar.</p>
          <p>Another factor in the maintenance of good health, is the frequent changing of underclothing. It is especially necessary in the case of children. The garments become impregnated with sweat and germs, and wearing them day after day, and perhaps during the night as well, infects the skin, causing the rashes and spots, and even boils which frequently mean so much discomfort to children, and also to the older folk.</p>
          <p>Vests that are worn during the day should on no account be worn at night. One garment at night is all that is necessary. Loosely woven and porous garments are very easily washed and dried, and the little extra trouble is offset by improved health and vitality.</p>
        </div>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d17-d8" type="section">
          <head><hi rend="c">Home Notes</hi>. Attractive and Delicious Cauliflower Dishes.</head>
          <p>There are many ways in which vegetables may be worked into the menu. They can be used not only as an accompaniment to the meat course, but in such ways as whole luncheon or tea dishes, as entrees and also salads.</p>
          <p>The cauliflower is a vegetable that can be made into a variety of appetising dishes. Cauliflowers are plentiful just now, and different ways of serving them may be tried.</p>
          <p>In cooking cauliflowers they should never be allowed to become pink, or the flavour would be spoilt. Cook, head up, in boiling, salted water for twenty to twenty-five minutes.</p>
          <p>Cauliflower au Grautin. —Cooked cauliflower, 2oz. grated cheese, ½oz. breadcrumbs, ½ pint melted butter sauce, ½ teaspoon made mustard, cayenne (if liked).</p>
          <p>Method: Separate flowerets of cauliflower and place in buttered dish. Pour over it a thick coating of melted butter sauce, to which has been added the grated cheese, made mustard and cayenne pepper. Mix the rest of the grated cheese with the breadcrumbs and sprinkle over the top. Dot with butter and brown in a hot oven.</p>
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      <pb xml:id="n46" n="46"/>
      <div decls="#text-16-bibl" xml:id="t1-body-d18" type="section">
        <head>
          <title level="a">
            <name type="work" key="name-409691">
              <hi rend="c">Locomotive Development New Zealand<lb/> The Fairlie Engine</hi>
            </name>
          </title>
        </head>
        <byline>(By <name type="person" key="name-408451"><hi rend="c">Progress</hi></name>)</byline>
        <div xml:id="t1-body-d18-d1" type="section">
          <p><hi rend="sc">The</hi> feverish activity in railway construction that followed Vogel's gallant gesture led to a positive riot of official openings and ceremonial runs. Early in November, 1873, the faithful “Ada” drew the first train out of Auckland, but on the 1st of January, 1873, the flighty “Josephine” had hauled the “first train” out of Dunedin to Port Chalmers. The Governor and Lady Bowen and the notabilities of Dunedin enjoyed a brief stop at Burke's brewery on the way through and, thus duly entertained, were welcomed by the Mayor and made, or listened to, the usual speeches.</p>
          <p>Actually the first train was a goods train from Port Chalmers to Dunedin, on September 18th. 1872, which brought a freight of beer from the brewery to Dunedin. This, with all its happy augury, was the first train to run on the 3ft. 6in. gauge in the colony, and marked the inception of the present New Zealand railway system.</p>
          <p>The driver was everyone's old friend, the late “Jack” Thomas, who came out from Bristol on the “Wave Queen” with the two locomotives. “Rose” and “Josephine,” and rolling-stock and rails —under articles of agreement with Proudfoot, Oliver and Ulph (the contractors) signed by Robert Fairlie as agent—and so began his long and faithful service with the Department. It is curious to recall the fact that the first engine driven in New Zealand by the sturdy veteran of a few years ago, with his long career of steady reliable service, was the flighty “Josephine.”</p>
          <p>By about the middle of last century railway construction in England (and this meant in the world) had settled down for a breathing space on rails that permitted a maximum load of only about nine tons. The locomotive engineer then imagined that it was unsafe to couple together more than two driving axles if even moderate speed were to be attained, and for passenger engines greatly preferred the single driver type. The consequent lack of adhesive weight seemed to have brought about a deadlock in the fight for power, but the inventive genius of the great engineers of the day quickly suggested a way out, and they proceeded to demonstrate the axiom (that is so frequently forgotten even to-day) that great engineering feats spell bad engineering.</p>
          <p>
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              <graphic url="Gov09_05Rail046a.jpg" mimeType="image/jpeg" xml:id="Gov09_05Rail046a-g"/>
              <head>The Yankee “K” laughs at the “Josephine” on the first through train from Christchurch to Dunedin.</head>
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          </p>
          <p>Sturrock was, perhaps, the first (he added cylinders and gear to the tender), but Robert Fairlie was, perhaps, the most able of these great men. And if we now know that “the wisdom of yesterday is the folly of to-day,” we must also remember that it is usually only the man who makes mistakes who adds anything worth while to our sum of knowledge.</p>
          <p>At a time when it was considered somewhat unwise to allow freedom of movement to even carrying (as distinct from driven) axles, Fairlie boldly put forth the idea of mounting the driving mechanism of the locomotive on swivelling bogies, and bolder still, of multiplying these. He accordingly patented what became known as the “Double Fairlie” type of locomotive, and the “Rose” and “Josephine” had to be in the new fashion.</p>
          <p>Approximating the Garratt type of locomotive patented so many years later, Fairlie built a deep firebox between two swivelling bogies on which separate driving mechanisms were supported. Really his only claim to
<pb xml:id="n47" n="47"/>
originality, as compared with the Garratt type, was the curious form of boiler, although this was not the essential feature of his patent. The boiler comprised two ordinary locomotive boilers running fore and aft from the central firebox, which had the usual firebox door opening on one side only, the fireman's side, of the firebox. It is curious to note that the very latest and much lauded type of articulated locomotive, the “Franco,” has virtually the same type of boiler; only in this case the firebox is divided longitudinally to make two separate boxes and the two firehole doors, and the two firemen are located one on each side of the boiler. Truly the wisdom of yesterday is … always with us.</p>
          <p>A few years later the New Zealand Government Railways took a share in the other railway argument that was waged so lengthily and so fiercely (Broad versus Narrow Gauge was the first) as to whether American locomotives were better than English. The men on the Canterbury end of the new narrow gauge line swore by the Yankee “K” engines, and when these lines were linked up with the Dunedin system the earliest opportunity was taken to pit the rival “Josephine” against the more straightforward “K.”</p>
          <p>Let the late “Ben” Verdon tell once more the story he took such delight in telling—only prefacing that the test took place on the first through train between Christchurch and Dunedin, on September 6th, 1878, and that the late Mr. Alison Smith personally supervised the handling of his pet “K” engine.</p>
          <p>“The train, which was pretty full, was of six of the old carriages and a van. A ‘K’ engine was ordered to pull it, and I was ordered to drive it. At Oamaru we picked up the old (sic) English engine ‘Josephine’ to double bank the rest of the way. There was a nice little dispute as to which engine should lead and, all the time the passengers were banquetting, the dispute went on. At last it was decided that my Yankee ‘K’ should lead, and they sent with me a local man to show me the road, and Mr. Smith was on the engine, too.</p>
          <p>“I kept my engine pretty close going up the Waiareka bank just to see what the Josephine could do, and found that she was making hard work of it. Mr. Smith noticed it, and said, 'Look here, Verdon, this won't do; you mustn't play up on the ‘Josephine.’ I said ‘All right; I only wanted to see what she could do.’</p>
          <p>“They carried a fitter on the “Josephine,” and by the time we got to Palmerston he was wanted. All the time they were banquetting he was working, and after the banquet the party come out and sat on the bank waiting till the fitter got the ‘Josephine’ ready for work again. When she got to Seacliff the ‘Josephine’ was in a fearful state. The fitter wasn't able to do her any good; so she was cut off and left behind. We got on very well and reached Dunedin only half an hour late.”</p>
          <p>As can be gathered from this account the “Josephine” was saddled with all the disabilities inherent to the articulated type of locomotive. The complication of two driving mechanisms geared to separate driven axle-units is bad enough; but when to this is added the maintenance of steam and exhaust pipes that have to be fitted with swivel and expansion joints, and of driving wheels that “shimmy” ecstatically from rail to rail across the track, the “flightiness” and non-reliability of the type is evident.</p>
          <p>However, the “old” “Josephine” survived to do another twenty years of somewhat interrupted railway work, and finally drifted into the scrapheap of the Otago Iron Rolling Mills at Green Island. Largely through the generosity of Mr. A. Smellie she was rescued from her impending fate and now stands—a moment of misguided genius and a memorial of brave and stirring days—alongside the Early Settlers' Hall at Dunedin, beside the new station and under the eye of the most beautiful church in New Zealand. Their view of each other was slightly better in their young days, as the artist shows, but surely not more kindly; and I do hope that Jack Thomas was not driving the “Josephine” the day that Ben Verdon triumphed.</p>
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              <head>The “Josephine” leaving the old Dunedin station in 1885. “First Church” in background.</head>
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        <div xml:id="t1-body-d18-d2" type="section">
          <head>“Orders is Orders”</head>
          <p>The following amusing paragraph, from “Saturday Night,” Toronto, has been kindly forwarded by Mr. J. W. Collins, N.Z. Trade Commissioner in Canada and U.S.A.:-</p>
          <p>A very good friend of ours who recently had occasion to breakfast on a railway train found that the one-dollar breakfast consisted of fruit or cereal, ham-and-two-eggs, toast and coffee. Being, like ourselves, a man of most abstemious habits in the early morning, he ordered this breakfast but with the qualification that the main dish should contain only one egg. He obtained his desire, but the bill was one dollar and twenty-five cents. Upon requesting an explanation he was informed that while ham-and-two-eggs were part of the dollar breakfast, ham-and-one-egg could only be served <hi rend="i">a la carte,</hi> and his attention was drawn to the rule on the menu card: “No variation from the items named in the <hi rend="i">table d'hote</hi> menus is permitted.”</p>
          <p>Our friend was annoyed, but we think he was wrong. He was asking for a certain elasticity of mind which nobody has a right to ask for in a railway diner in connection with a dollar breakfast. With an <hi rend="i">a la carte</hi> breakfast, yes; with a <hi rend="i">table d'hot</hi> one, no. The difference is part of what you get for the higher charge. Our friend was trying to save the railway the cost of the second egg; but in doing so he was imposing upon it a far more serious item of expense. He was upsetting the system, he was causing a <hi rend="i">bouleversement</hi> of the routine, which would probably cost more than a dozen eggs. What he should have done was to suffer the second egg to be brought, and then to throw it out of the window, or at the waiter, or put it in the finger bowl, or ask for an envelope and mail it to the president of the railway with a few well chosen words on Costs and How to Cut Them.</p>
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