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The New Zealand Railways Magazine is on sale through the principal booksellers, or may be obtained post-free for 6/- per annum.
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.
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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 20,000 copies each issue since July, 1930.
Deputy-Controller and Auditor-General.
27/9/33.
The following interesting impressions of the New Zealand Railways are contained in a letter to the Editor of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine,” received from Mr. Ernest Laverack, of Sydney, New South Wales:—
As an officer of the Transport Board of New South Wales, I recently visited New Zealand during the course of my annual leave, my wife accompanying me. We visited Rotorua, travelling there and to other parts of your country by rail, and I must congratulate you on the comfort and cleanliness of the trains. There is no doubt at all in reference to the civility and courtesy of the railway staff of New Zealand. I have travelled a good deal in other parts, but my wife and I both award the first prize to your men. Auckland Railway Station impressed us as being always very clean, the approaches to the station being nicely laid out. We also liked the illuminated railway sign on the top of the booking office in Queen St., Auckland. It is perfect, and cannot be missed.
I must also mention the “Railways Magazine.” It is a very interesting journal and a great credit to the Railway Department. The copies I have passed on to the Railway Institutes in the country districts give much pleasure—especially to some of the locomotive men.
At Christies famous auction mart in London not long since, was offered to the highest bidder an old English tobacco-box in solid silver, beautifully chased, and with an exquisitely painted female figure on the lid. A thing of beauty! Originally it may have cost five or six guineas. Under the hammer it realised £35. Years hence it may fetch double. Genuine antiques usually appreciate in value. Such tobacco boxes were quite common in the 18th century. Nowadays most men carry pouches, and are (rightly) more concerned about the quality of their tobacco than about its container. Brands innumerable there are, a prime favourite with 20th century smokers being “toasted New Zaeland” remarkable no less for its soothing and comforting properties than for its comparative freedom from health-destroying nicotine—eliminated by toasting. The five brands of this beautiful tobacco—Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead), Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Cavendish, Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold—are in universal request. There's no tobacco like “toasted.” But see you get the real thing. Avoid worthless imitations.*
“THe time has passed when a long journey in England by motor road was a pleasure. Increasing road traffic, crossroad stoppages, cramped knees, road hogs, and possible fogs are to be seriously reckoned with. In a bus one can only tolerate and endure; there is no escaping unpleasant companions; and, like a great many other travellers, I have gone back to the train. For comfort and speed it scores every time.”
In the above words, Gertrude Mack, writing to the Sydney Morning Herald recently, gives expression to what is becoming the settled conviction of experienced travellers, not only in England, but in almost every country where a choice between road and rail is open. Control and management of all traffic movements under one organisation—a condition which the railways alone can give—is a vital factor in securing that comfort.
But there are other amenities offered to train travellers—amenities to which the public are so habituated that they are taken as a matter of course—which even the best road services cannot parallel.
Amongst these are modern railway stations. It might be safely said that no road transport company could hope to compete successfully with the railways were it to attempt to give the comprehensive service of waiting rooms, refreshment rooms, covered concourses, and luggage and parcels checking, storage, and transport facilities which are part of any well-organised train system.
Special attention to these features will be found in the new Wellington Station, of which the foundation stone is to be laid this month by H.R.H. the Duke of Gloucester. With the completion of this station, an existing gap in the generally high standard of the Dominion's rail services will be filled. But backward (from a railway standard) as the present Wellington passenger terminal facilities are, they are better than those which the best road service can show.
We know the cramping effect of even the best among road vehicles, which all require that the passenger shall “stay put” while the car is in motion. And we know that at the intermediate stops on a road journey the traveller has no choice but to step out, frequently on the open street, and just put in time the best way he can till the trip is resumed. How different from the freedom of movement on trains, and sheltered comfort of railway stations. Here the whole atmosphere is steeped in the spirit of travel—the coloured signal-lights, the shining metals, the uniformed attendants, the tempting refreshment counters, the gay bookstalls. the eager come-and-go of fellow-travellers, the whistling of trains, the rumble and clang of shunted vehicles—all these combine to make the romance of the rail an ever-changing drama of transport, with features of interest for which no road service can offer a counterpart.
Royalty recognises the comfort and convenience of the railways in the most practical way—by using them whenever feasible. Of this, the present tour by Prince Henry, with its extensive train travel itinerary, is a clear indication.
Although at the coming Christmastide, when all the world will want to go a-touring, the carrying capacity of the railways is likely to be tested to the utmost, the service here can be depended upon to meet all requirements with its accustomed efficiency, and to add to that safety of travel for which the Dominion's lines are so justly noted, a comfort which will go a long way towards inducing the Christmas spirit; for comfort and good cheer are almost inseparable companions during the great annual Christian celebration—the cherished period of universal peace and goodwill.
Upon three occasions in the present century New Zealand has been honoured by visits from members of the Royal Family. The first was in 1901 when Their Majesties, the King and Queen (then Duke and Duchess of York) included this country in the course of an Empire tour. The second visit was made by H.R.H. the Prince of Wales in 1920, and the third by Their Royal Highnesses, the Duke and Duchess of York in 1927. On each occasion members of the railway service had an opportunity to carry out the bulk of the transport incidental to the Royal tours. We are now eagerly looking forward to the visit of H.R.H. the Duke of Gloucester, who is to arrive in New Zealand on the 15th December.
There is no need for me to stress the fact that the members of the Railway Service in New Zealand take second place to no section of the community in their loyalty to the Crown. The Department's past records, in peace and war, give ample proof of this. I am confident that, as during previous Royal visits, railwaymen will rise to the demands of the occasion in their efforts to provide the highest degree of safety, comfort, and efficiency in the transport of the Royal Party throughout the Dominion, and that they will leave with His Royal Highness none but pleasurable recollections of his rail travels in this country.
Thirty-three years ago the Department was singularly honoured in having the Foundation Stone of its Head Office building laid by our present King. It is a fortunate coincidence that his son should have graciously consented to perform a similar ceremony in connection with Wellington's new station, which will also be the future headquarters of the Railway Department.
The Board desires me to express, on its behalf, the Season's Greetings to all clients and members of the Department, and its best wishes for a pleasant Festive Season and a Prosperous New Year. I desire heartily to associate myself with these greetings and good wishes.
Acting General Manager.
Top: Feathorston Street Elevation, of Station showing Suburban Entrance.
Centre: General layout of Passenger. Locomotive and Goods Yards.
Below: Street approaches to Passenger Station and layout at Main Entrance.
(The station is described in the following article.)
AS long ago as 1907, in anticipation of the completion of the Wellington-Hutt duplication and of the Wellington-Auckland main line, proposals were formulated for a new station (fronting Bunny Street) at Wellington. The increased traffic to be handled at the more distant Thorndon station, on the acquisition of the Manawatu Railway, added to the inconvenience of having two separate stations. A plan was prepared, therefore, for a passenger station covering the whole area of the existing Lambton yard, the goods yard being left a matter for future consideration. The perspective view of the then suggested station reveals certain striking resemblances to the lay-out of the station now in course of construction.
The following year the Wellington Harbour Board outlined a scheme for new wharves, with railway access, involving extensive reclamation to provide for both railway and harbour requirements. After years of negotiation a contract was let for the Thorndon sea-wall, a work involving the laying of large concrete blocks in 30 feet of water. On its completion the work of reclamation was begun by pumping silt dredged from the harbour into the area behind the wall. Many years elapsed before the reclamation was sufficiently consolidated to allow of the laying of sidings or the construction of buildings. In 1930 the goods shed, 500 feet long, of steel and concrete construction, was erected on the older part of the reclamation and brought into use early the following year. Hardwood piles under every stanchion keep the heavy loading off the still-shrinking reclamation.
In 1929 plans were prepared by Messrs. Gray, Young, Morton and Young, Architects, for a new station building with Head Office and District Office accommodation on the upper floors. This scheme was described in an article by Mr. W. R. Davidson, M.Inst.C.E., in this magazine exactly five years ago. Owing to financial stringency the scheme was held over for four years and then reduced to proportions more in keeping with immediate needs. Work has now been in hand for one year, the contractors being The Fletcher Construction Company Limited. The steelwork, already erected, together with the illustrations now published, will enable anyone with a little imagination to visualise the finished work, the progress of which will be advanced a step further by the laying of the foundation stone during the present month by His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester. The object of this article is to describe the station at present under construction as it will be when completed in two years' time.
Access to the station is given from the city by Stout Street, Featherston Street, and Waterloo Quay, and also from Lambton Quay by way of Bunny Street, which from its junction with Stout and Featherston Streets, is being swung into a new position at right angles to Waterloo Quay. The station frontage is set back from Bunny Street, leaving a space for lawn and shubbery, with 66 feet width immediately in front of the main entrance for an access road for pedestrians, motors and trams, leaving Bunny Street unobstructed by station traffic.
The main passenger entrance is on the centre of the Bunny Street frontage. The colonnade, 123 feet in length, with its eight columns each 5 feet in diameter and 42 feet from base to capital, projects 16 feet from the building line. The height to the parapet top is 77 feet. Towards the two ends of this frontage, which extends all the way from Featherston Street to Waterloo Quay, a distance of 316 feet, are the entrances to the offices on the upper floors.
Along Featherston Street the building extends 142 feet at its full height, terminating in the main suburban entrance surmounted by the tower-block reaching a maximum height of 88 feet above street level. A wing, one story high, extends a further 120 feet northwards with foundations designed to carry future additions to the full height of the main structure. Beyond this is the access to the suburban mail dock.
The building extends 212 feet along Waterloo Quay, where six double doors give vehicular access to the floor of the luggage and parcels offices, which occupy the whole of that frontage. Immediately beyond the building on this side is the taxi entrance to the arrival platform.
(Continued on page 49.)
To be Concentrated in Wellington's New Station.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
The above illustrations depicting the present office and station arrangements at Wellington, indicate some of the difficulties with which the railway management has had to contend in building up an efficient organisation. As described in the accompanying article, the staffs occupying the offices, which are now scattered over a wide area, will be housed under the one roof in the new station building, thus making for greater efficiency and economy in the control of railway operations. The illustrations shew: (1) The Head Office; (2) Refreshment Branch; (3) Lambton Station; (4) District Traffic Manager's Office; (5) District Engineer's Office; (6) Thorndon Station; (7) Stores Office, Plan Printing, Correspondence School, and Photographic Division; (8) Signal and Electrical Engineer's Office.
A remarkable analysis of transport costs has been made by Mr. R. H. Packwood, the Public Works Department's engineer in charge of tine construction of the Waitaki Dam, the £2 million hydroelectric scheme which ranks largest of its kind in the South Island. Mr. Packwood's statement clearly indicates the national value of the railway facilities in reducing transport costs to the Waitaki Dam by using the Kurow Branch railway. Whilst it is generally recognised that the railways have played a leading part in assisting national development, and that they have added values to land far in excess of their capital cost to the Dominion, actual figures to prove this are difficult to obtain, and without them, statements along these lines are necessarily somewhat unconvincing. Mr. Packwood's is perhaps the first fully detailed examination of road and rail costs in connection with a major project, and as the whole of the relevant information was available, his conclusions carry weight of a singularly impressive nature.
IN a letter to Mr. G. H. Mackley, the General Manager of Railways, Mr. R. H. Packwood, District Engineer of the Public Works Department, who was in charge of the construction of the Waitaki Power Scheme, now so successfully concluded, gives the following interesting facts regarding the value of the services rendered by the railway system in connection with this £2 million project.
“The position as at March 31st, 1934,” states Mr. Packwood, “was that the Railway Department had handled some 72,000 tons of material, on which railage charges amounting to £107,000 had been paid. The chief items were: 43 000 tons cement, railed from Burnside (near Dunedin) 124 miles distant; 9,000 tons timber railed from West Coast, etc., approximately 300 miles distant; 20,000 tons other material including heavy construction plant from as far afield as Auckland; also component parts of the permanent power plant (weighing up to 21 tons each) from Timaru, about 88 miles distant.
“I cannot attempt an estimate of the savings in cost due to the existence of the railway system as a whole, but for the present purpose will compare what would have been the position had there been no branch railway connecting Kurow with the nearest port, Oamaru, thus involving road transport for 40 miles. In passing, I might remark that two existing Government power schemes, Lake Coleridge and Waikaremoana, were each located at approximately that distance from the nearest rail-head, and in both cases the existing roads had to be reformed to a higher standard, and thereafter maintained as a direct charge to each scheme.
“In our case, the existing road from Oamaru to Kurow was of quite a high standard, but every bridge en route would have required strengthening and in some cases complete reconstruction, to safely carry the 21 ton concentrated loads. It is obvious, too, that no Local Body could reasonably be expected to meet the enhanced cost of maintenance due to such abnormal traffic, and that (in effect) the upkeep of the road for the full period of construction would have devolved on the Government. This view is amply confirmed by previous experience.
“On completion, the tonnage will amount to 80,000, on which railage charges amounting to £120,000 will have been borne by the Power Scheme. Over half of this rather formidable total is due to cement alone, 48,000 tons @ £1 5s. 8d. Beginning with this item, we find that railage is 2 1/2d. per ton mile, which was also the average figure for all goods handled by the railways during the last financial year. Now, from a lengthy personal acquaintance with road transportation, supported by actual costs borne by other schemes, I believe that haulage by road vehicles would have cost 10d. per ton mile. I am aware that this figure might be disputed, and that instances of cheaper rates can be quoted. But on examination one finds that such services have been operated at a loss, or that some special circumstances prevailed, such as favourable back-loading, which would not have been the case in this instance. I am convinced, therefore, that on cement haulage alone, the use of the railways saved us 7 1/2d. per ton mile, or 25/- per ton, a total of £60,000.
“The saving on other materials is more difficult to estimate, particularly on the heavy machinery, but it would certainly exceed 25/- per ton. Even at that figure, however, the saving in cost amounts to £40,000. Summarising the position as I see it, the total savings effected amount to:—
“The net cost of construction of the branch railway from Pukeuri Junction to Kurow (38 miles) at the 31st March, 1934, was £124,000. The striking fact emerges, therefore, that the total capital cost of this branch railway has been saved to the State in a direction never contemplated by its promoters—a specific instance of developmental value.
“Finally, I would mention another aspect of the subject—one that cannot be assessed in hard cash, but which nevertheless is appreciated in full by one who has experienced the worries of organising and maintaining a fleet of motor vehicles. I refer to the reliability of the railways, and particularly their ability to cope with peak loads at periods of maximum activity.
“Day and night the railway organisation is there to handle not only regular business, but ready at a few hours' notice to put on “specials” to cope with emergencies. In this connection, I desire to pay a tribute to the manner in which your officers, both district and local, have met the demands we have made upon them during our six years' association, and the knowledge that we could depend upon their courteous assistance at all times has been a big factor in the smooth running of our own organisation.”
Amerry christmas to readers everywhere! At Home, and throughout Europe, Christmas this year promises to be a much happier festival than those of recent times, thanks largely to improving trade and increased employment. During the depression numbers of railway employees were temporarily laid off, but most of these have now been reinstated, and of real unemployment in the transportation industry there is, to-day, little. Europe may, or may not, experience a genuine old-fashioned winter such as Charles Dickens loved to portray. Snow or sunshine, however, European railway folk will joyously celebrate this outstanding Christian festival, which so happily links together, in one common brotherhood, the peoples of the globe.
High-speed passenger trains, designed on streamlined principles, are a feature of present-day railway development. In both Europe and America interesting designs of streamlined trains and railcars have recently been put into service, and as a consequence main-line schedules are being speeded up materially.
At Home, the Great Western are utilising streamlined railcars in crosscountry services like that between Birmingham and Cardiff. The first streamlined railcar to be operated on the Great Western—and in Britain—was an experimental vehicle tried out in the Reading area last year. The new streamlined internal combustion cars follow the general lines of this pioneer vehicle, but are somewhat more powerful. Built by the Associated Equipment Co. Ltd., they incorporate two engines, of the A.E.C. 130 h.p. compressionignition type, enabling speeds of up to eighty m.p.h. to be reached. Fluid flywheel transmission is employed, incorporating a four-speed pre-selective Wilson patent gearbox. The brakes are of the road vehicle pattern, with fabric-lined shoes expanding inside drums, and operated on a vacuum-hydraulic system.
The new railcars of the Great Western have seating capacity for forty passengers in a central saloon. A luggage compartment, stand-up bar and cafeteria, and two lavatories are also provided, while there is a driver's compartment at each end. Total length of the car over buffers is 63ft. 7in. The 117 1/2-mile trip from Birmingham to Cardiff is performed at an average speed of 50 m.p.h., including two stops. The cars carry one class only, and a supplement of 2s. 6d. is charged in addition to the standard third-class fare. In explanation of the introduction of the streamlined express railcars, the Great Western management state that in certain cases there is insufficient traffic between important centres to justify the running of a through train, and many stops are necessary to make the service remunerative. To meet this position and to give a more expeditious service to the public, the express streamlined railcars have been introduced.
Across the Channel, Germany, Holland, Denmark and Russia are featuring
Elaborate streamlining and the elimination of eddy currents under the carriages by the provision of sheet-iron aprons stretching almost down to rail level, are features of the new express trains put into traffic in Denmark. These are Diesel-electric articulated trains consisting of three cars, seating 156 passengers.
America gives us something really spectacular in the stainless steel streamlined train put into traffic on the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad; the new streamlined passenger trains of the Union Pacific system; and the striking new streamlined trains under construction for the Baltimore and Ohio (Continued on page 56.)
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The following were prize-winning poems in the New Zealand Women Writers' and Artists' Society's recent competition:—
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“New Zealand can claim, without fear of contradiction, to pos sess greater variety of outstanding scenic attractiveness than any territory of similar area to be found anywhere in the world.”—Lord Bledisloe, Governor-General of New Zealand.
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Scence in the North and South Islands of New Zealand.—From top (left): Mt. Egmont, seen from Pukekura Park, New Plymouth, North Island; Pohutu Geyser, Whakarewarewa, Rotorua, North Island; The Waipoua State Forest, Auckland Province, North Island; Mt. Cook (12,349ft.), from the Seely Range, South Island; Queenstown, Lake Wakatipu, South Island; The Outlet, Lake Manapouri, South Island.
The stranger's lasting impressions of a country are influenced greatly by the manner of his entry into it. Probably the pleasantest way of approaching the front door in New Zealand is the leisurely entrance to Auckland, through the island-strewn waters of the Hauraki Gulf. There is nothing abrupt or stern about that ship highway to the Dominion's largest city-Coming from Australia round the North Cape, the stranger is gradually prepared for his arrival by the sight of island after island, dark and mountainous or gentle and softly green; hills and capes, and quiet seas well guarded by the Barrier Islands and promontories; and at last a wide sweep around a verdurous dome of headland, and there the city lies spread out for miles along its easy slopes and fronting an often glassy harbour.
But His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, when he enters the Dominion on the morning of December 15 will have a bolder landscape to shape his first impression of these islands. No gentle, symmetrical hills like green buttons here; but rough-edged ranges that ring Port Nicholson about as if set there to ward off the gales of the Pacific and the Tasman Sea, No outer gulf of soft blue to lead one into the inner shrine. It is a quick dramatic transition from tumbling windy Cook Strait, between rocky gateposts, into the sea-lake on which Wellington City has built itself. The contrast is sharp to the navigator or the passenger, from the tossing sea that parts the two islands through a splendid straightforward channel into a perfect haven that widens out on each hand.
Travellers who have reached Wellington by sea have been charmed with that quick change of scene, and with the Italian-lake-like character of the harbour and the protective irregular ramparts of blue ranges.
Here, before describing the route our Royal visitor will take in his six weeks' tour of New Zealand, one would like to say something of the beauty which is Wellington's under certain aspects, a quality of beauty His Royal Highness may discover before he leaves it.
The mists on the hills give this up-and-down city a quality of beauty that no other city in the Dominion can show, not even Dunedin. As summer comes on Wellington has a morning glory of mingled mist and sunlight that gives an ever-changing picture of soft colour. Auckland has its foggy beauty of early morning. The writer never will forget that sight, out beyond Rangitoto Channel, of Admiral Sperry's American fleet in line silently emerging out of the luminous fog like spirit ships, in seemingly endless procession. How long ago was that? Twenty-six years—yet it remains in the memory when later pictures have faded. But Wellington's morning glory is of a quite alpine character, if you see it from the city's hills. Visitors to Queenstown, on Lake Wakatipu, often climb Ben Lomond to view the early-day picture above the low-lying mist. Looking out from the heights just in the rear of the city heart, one of these quiet mornings, before the sun has swung up over the Orongorongo Ranges, you might almost imagine yourself in the heart of the Urewera country or on the slopes of Ben Lomond. If it were not for the flagstaff and the lofty radio station masts on the sharp tip of Mount Victoria, and for the dim shapes of the nearer houses in the foreground, the illusion would be complete. The silent city in the valley below is invisible, drowned in a fleecy sea; so, too, is the harbour; only the higher summits lift like islands above the level ocean of vapour. Dwellers on the higher parts of the city here are gods looking out over a world of white and smoky blue.
And let one affirm further, in the hope that our visitors will discover it also—that there is sometimes a magic beauty in a Wellington night that not even the Waitemata harbour's summertime nocturnes can surpass.
Our distinguished visitor will sample many kinds of weather in New Zealand. This is no monotonous continental land such as Mr. Kipling pictures in two of his lines about the West Coast of South America:
“Day long the diamond weather, The high unaltered blue.”
We are fortunate in living in a very different land from that changeless, rainless part of the earth.
So we move on with H.R.H. to the province which is considered by its inhabitants and many visitors to possess the pleasantest climate in the Dominion. Some prefer Nelson; many would rather have Auckland or the Far North. But Napier and the beautiful plains about it certainly have a softness of air and a generosity of warm sunshine that is quickly appreciated as one traverses the country from west to east and gains the lee side of the ranges.
There is only one thing prosperous Gisborne and its surrounding richly productive country badly needs, and that is a change of district name, from “Poverty Bay” to something more befitting and optimistic. If His Royal Highness could only throw out a friendly suggestion to that end he would do the country a service. Perhaps only a Prince of the blood could induce the district to jettison Captain Cook's uncomplimentary description. Why not “Endeavour Bay,” after Cook's ship?
But we must get along, for the Royal itinerary demands arrival at Rotorua by the evening of December 21. This means a long motoring day, making Opotiki by lunch-time. On this run the Duke of Gloucester will have his first taste of the real New Zealand wilds, for the road penetrates a rough tract of country on the watershed between the East Coast side and the Bay of Plenty coast. A partly subdued country; dairy farms and sheep runs giving place to forest ranges, vistas of green and blue wooded ranges and deep valleys and gulches with rapid-whitened rivers tearing along below, and the skilfully-engineered road cork-screwing through until the hills suddenly fall away and the green levels of the Opotiki farm country open out. The fringe of the Urewera country is touched at the head of the valley, where the Waioeka River issues from the old-time haunts of Te Kooti and his warriors. Opotiki is a place of story. The Royal party should have time here to look in at the historic church of the Rev. Carl Volkner, and to hear on the spot the story of the missionary who was done to death by Kereopa and his fanatics in 1865.
Whakatane, another place of a hundred war stories and Maori traditions, is the next stop; on the way, soon after leaving Opotiki, the motor road along the coast at one place passes through an avenue of great pohutukawa trees, which at this season will be in flower, grand old trees of a history that will in part be symbolised by their blood-red blossoms, for it was a place where in the Hauhau War days Government despatch-carriers were ambushed by Tamaikowha and his tomahawk-men. Just beyond it, the Waiotahi River, and then the road skirts the inner waters of Ohiwa, a famous fishing place for the Maoris.
Whakatane is an unusual place, with the tidal river on its front and a parapet of straight cliffs in its rear, crowned with the earthworks of ancient forts. All this country through which the motor road goes is a greatly fruitful land, lying well to the sun, warm and fertile, a land where great crops of maize are produced. Something of Maori life will be seen here; the Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Pukeko tribes have villages on the coast and along the Whakatane levels, and the headquarters farming settlements of the Urewera tribe are in the upper part of the plain, at Ruatoki
The bold, lofty cone of Mt. Edge-cumbe, or Putauaki, now comes dramatically into the picture, as the motor cars speed on across the plain towards the Rotorua lakes. Past Te Teko, with its pakeha and Maori farms, the route climbs a ridge of fern and forest and drops into Lakeland.
Rotoma, Rotoehu and Rotoiti are closely skirted, lakes of calm and forest fringe; famous Hongi's Track is traversed, between the latter two lakes. Maori villages, quiet hamlets with here and there a carved meeting-house; glistening beaches of white sand, cliffs where the inland pohutukawa, almost as rich of flower-dress as its coast sister, bends down towards the blue waters.
The first whiff of sulphuretted hydrogen is wafted on the breeze at the entrance to that glen of horrors Tikitere, reminder that the travellers are in Hot Spring Land at last. Rotorua Lake now spreads out, with its lovely island of song and legend, Mokoia, a mountain-isle of peace, softly green to its tapu summit. The lake sleeps in blue and silver; away on the left the snowy clouds of steam hover over the geyser valley of Whakarewarewa. Ahead, Rotorua town among its tree groves and parks and gardens, the comfortable looking capital of Geyserland, where the Duke will make a stay of two days before going on to Auckland.
Not for many a year have the geysers of Whakarewarewa been so obligingly active as during recent months. A few weeks ago there were ten geysers, large and small, all spouting away together in this wonderful valley, queened over by Waikite on its glittering white terrace.
The buried village of Te Wairoa, with Lake Tarawera spread out below, and beyond, the grim scarps of old Tarawera mountain are as full of fascination as ever; and the Duke will see and hear all about their strange and sinister history. The strangest experience of all for the Royal party will be the power-launch run through the region of boil and bubble on Rotomahana, where the cliffs above and the water below are pulsing with the heat that never ceases. It is a tremendous place, where anything may happen at any time. Then the Waimangu thermal gulch, a weird hot place where, too, dramatic happenings are always likely.
Lake and geyser, hot waters and cool crystal streams, fragrant native bush and great exotic plantations where the State is covering the bare hills and pumice plains with a new forest; all these invite the pleasure-cruiser at Rotorua; and for the angler there is the trout-fishing. Rotorua is an excellent place at which to begin one's fishing on such a tour; but there will be more time further south, where the Tongariro River and the bays of Lake Taupo call the angler to camp by them for the space of many days.
The Duke will have three days at Tongariro Chateau presently; he should in that time have the pleasure of lifting many beautiful fish from the famous stream.
Saturday, December 22, will be the most dramatic and colourful and distinctively New Zealand day of the tour, for that is the day set apart for the Maori greeting to the Duke at Rotorua. Many tribes besides the Arawa will
marae for the ceremonies of welcome and homage to the King's son.
There will be memories among the elders of the tribes of the wonderful congress of Maoris on that assembly ground in 1901, when the King and Queen—then the Duke and Duchess of York—visited Rotorua. That was in midwinter; this time the midsummer weather will heighten the colour and the joyous note of the gathering. The old chiefs, the tattooed warriors who typified the adventurous past and the ways of danger, have passed on to the Reinga; their parade before Royalty had something of the heroic spirit of “Ave Caesar! Morituru te salutamus.” Now the new generation rules; but the note of racial colour is none the less vivid—the songs and chants, the poetic charm of the poi; the artistry of the women's costumes, the thrill of the haka and the peruperu are with the Maori still; and such gatherings as that held at historic Waitangi this year revived the athletic drill and the fervour of the warlike past.
There is no need to enumerate Auckland's attractions in the midsummer of the year. The Duke will have three days at Government House in Auckland. Let us hope that he will be able to spend much of his time in enjoying the pleasant places of the wooded hills, the parks and the island-sheltered cruising waters of the Hauraki Gulf. Auckland has more than a dozen yacht and motor-launch clubs. A yachting
A Maori cooking pool at Ohinemutu, Rotorua.
Across the island westward, through forest and gorge, and Taranaki is entered. Aloft towers peerless Egmont, belted with forest, tipped with snow, the crown and glory of the land. A snowfall sees it powdered well down its slopes, even in summer; after a heavy fall it may be described in the words Joaquin Miller wrote of Mount Shasta, “lonely as God and white as a winter morn.”
The Taranaki towns, Wanganui, Flock House, Bulls, Palmerston North, a look-in at Woodville and Masterton by way of the Manawatu Gorge; then a quick return to Wellington, and the Royal tourist will cross in H.M.A.S. Australia to Picton for his South Island quick change jaunt by motor car and rail.
The high lights of such a land cruise in the South are the Big Three, the West Coast glaciers, the Aorangi sector of the Southern Alps, and the Otago and Southland Lakes. It is a long way from Picton and Nelson down the Buller route to Westland and to the Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers, but there is change of scene all the way. The quiet rural charm of Nelson, with its great orchards, the splendid motor run down the winding valley of the Buller River, a valley that becomes a gorge where the road engineers have carved a wonderful highway; the coal towns of the West Coast, Hokitika with its memories of the roaring Sixties; memories of the rough old days of the land of gold, and legends of the greenstone-working age.
A hundred miles further, for much of the way through tall forest avenues and past calm lakes of the woods, silent, calm, reflecting all the beauty of the forest selvage and the high and gleaming Alps. Then, with serene farm scenes as the foreground, the forest that seemingly swallows the down sweep of the Franz Josef's white causeway that descends nine thousand feet in a few miles. The contrast between ice and forest will be most marked at this time of the year because the rata that clothes the lower mountain sides on each flank of that strange writhing tongue of ice should be out in flower, a frame of glowing colour for the pure white stream.
Back to the railway, there is that triumph of railway making, the transalpine road across to Canterbury, up the rata bordered Otira Gorge and by way of Arthur's Pass, with its five and a quarter mile tunnel; then down the eastern slants into the great pastoral downs of Canterbury and on to the farstretching farming plains; Timaru, Oamaru, and finally Dunedin.
Dunedin, with its grace of architecture, its plenty of green groves and softly wooded hills that belt it, will be for the Duke a pleasant place. So, too, will be the great plains and downs he will traverse on his way to the Lakes. It is likely that he will have a speedy drive out from Invercargill to Lake Manapouri or Lake Te Anau. The former is preferable, for a quick motor journey. With its many green isles, its water of magic blue and silver, its glory of alp and forest, it is the loveliest lake in all New Zealand.
Wakatipu will be visited, and our Royal guest, it is tolerably certain, will never forget the barbaric glory of the South Arm through which his steamer will pass on the way from the railhead at Kingston to the pretty waterside town of Queenstown.
This South Arm is remarkable for its narrowness, the profound blue of its depths, the exceedingly precipitous, lofty and broken character of its mountain walls. Above Kingston, on the left, are the craggy peaks of the Eyre Mountains, rising to nearly 7,000 feet, snow-sprinkled and cloud-wreathed; and on the right are the heights of the Hector Mountains, poetically called by the Maoris Tapuae'nuku, “The Footsteps of Uenuku,—the Rainbow God—because they were so often seen spanned by rainbows. The steamer's course is steered within a short distance of the jutting rocks. Shrubberies climb a little way up the steeply slanting mountains, which soon stand out bold, intractable and bare, shooting skywards into savage blades and rugged turrets, and seamed with many a deep couloir, the race-track of the avalanches. The Bay Peaks, sheer precipices of nearly 5,500 feet, are passed on the left, and now even wilder and more grimly fantastic mountain summits rise on each side of the narrow waterway, gorgeously tinted with glowing colours which are reflected in the mirror of the lake. The sunrise and sunset effects on these mountains are to many the greatest charm of Wakatipu scenery. On the left are the Bayonet Peaks, rising into spiked pinnacles of desolate rock, four thousand feet above us. Next comes Mount Cecil, heaving forth its buttress into the purple depths, and now the lake bends sharply to the west. As we draw away from the eastern shore we open out above the cliffs the grandest mountain picture of all—the whole front of the Remarkables, a long, serrated range of shark's tooth peaks, carved sharply against the sky, rising near their northern end into the Double Cone, twin crags of knife-like rock. The whole face of the range is a vast jumble of sharp ridges and deeply-cut couloirs, down which the broken bones of the mountains are ever crumbling to the valleys.
Queenstown, attractive as it is, will not hold the Royal pilgrim long, for there is a long motor run before him, over the ranges and the downs to Mt. Cook Hermitage. There he will have one clear day for viewing something of the snowy glories of the central zone of the Alps. The mountain kings are all around, their crowns of ice flashing back the summer sun. There will not be time to attack those peaks, nevertheless there is many a place of alpine peace, beauty and solace close to the Hermitage.
One hopes that His Royal Highness will be taken to see, at least, that sweetest of wild gardens, the Hooker Valley. Of all the places of charm within easy walking distance of the Hermitage, one commends this flowerdecked valley, up which a track leads between the crumbling precipices of the Cook Range and the lateral moraine of the Hooker Glacier. The glen is strewn about with huge lichen-crusted rocks either fallen from the heights or borne by ice in the era when the glacier was wider and longer than it is to-day. This is the time to see this fragrant garden valley at its best. All the flowers and the blossoming shrubs are out. A stream ripples through the valley, a beautiful little stream of purest, coldest water, as blue as the sky; it is filtered from silt by its passage underground from the glacier. It goes cascading and murmuring down in curves and halfcoils, and sometimes you may see the blue mountain duck swimming on the pools, and hear their peculiar whistling call, the “whio, whio,” that gives them their Maori name. It is a wild park, but without trees; small alpine shrubs cluster about the grey rocks, and in the season of flowers all the mountain blossoms are here — the golden-eyed celmisia daisy with its curious soft white furry thickness of stem and leaf; the great cup-leaved alpine buttercup, and the carpeting of sweet little gentians and their like. And all around is
A private visit to the celebrated Longbeach estate of Mr. Grigg will give the Duke much-needed rest and a quiet look around at big-scale farming and a taste of the country's sport. Then a couple of days at Christchurch, the “Garden City,” with its abundance of garden beauty, its bright little river that winds like a girdle about its parks, its air of long-settled repose, though it is ten years younger than cither Wellington or Auckland.
And the farewell to the Island will take the Australia, bearing the Prince, through rocky sea-gates that are even bolder than the harbour mouth by which he entered the Dominion, for Lyttelton Heads are the walls of one of those ancient volcanoes but for which all this Canterbury coast would have been a dead monotony of far-spread-out levels.
Haere ra! at Lyttelton Heads to the Royal visitor. He will not yet leave New Zealand behind him, however, for there is sport awaiting him at the Bay of Islands. A touch of the deep sea thrill of swordfish hunting, and a look around at such places as storied Waitangi and easy-going Russell, ex Kororareka; and it will be with the desire to come again, one trusts, that he will finally wave good-bye to these islands where the godwit takes its flight for the mysterious north, to return each season with the summer warmth.
The history of European missionary endeavour in the Pacific contains no more adventurous story than that of the first Roman Catholic Bishop in New Zealand, the Right Rev. Jean Baptiste Francois Pompallier, Vicar Apostolic of Western Oceania. The great Bishop's early work in this country was more difficult than that of the famous first Selwyn, inasmuch as he was confronted with the task of beginning the propaganda of his faith in New Zealand, whereas the English Church missionaries had opened their crusade in Maori Land more than a quarter of a century before their first Bishop arrived to take charge. Pompallier, moreover, had cruised from island to island in the South Pacific under circumstances of peril before he set foot on New Zealand's shores. Later he, like Selwyn, voyaged in dangerous seas in pursuance of his missionary work. In this article the life and efforts of the pioneer of his faith in this country are sketched, with particular reference to the long and difficult journeys which were necessary in those days of missionary beginnings in these little-known and primitive lands.
Jean Baptiste Francois Pompallier was born at Lyons, France, in 1802. His family wished him to become a soldier, but his inclinations were otherwise. His early desire was to become a Jesuit, but from this he was dissuaded by the Archbishop of Paris. However, following his religious bent, he took Orders as a secular priest, and became one of the founders of the Marist Congregation, which took its rise among a few secular priests in the dioceses of Lyons and Bellay. He became novice-master of the Order, and three hundred novices passed through his hands. On June 30, 1836, when he was consecrated at Rome Bishop of Maronée and first Vicar-Apostolic of Western Oceania, the infant society of which he was so prominent a member came under the notice of the Vatican, and he obtained a brief authorising the creation of the new Society of Mary, which had for its special object the evangelisation of the islands of the Pacific.
The pioneer Bishop's first voyage to New Zealand was an Odyssey of adventure in perilous seas and among strange peoples. He did not sail direct to this country, but cruised among the tropic islands of his wide diocese for many months before he at last turned New Zealand-ward. He sailed in all manner of vessels, from large ships to small ill-equipped schooners, and all the lore and stress of sea-life were his before he finally set foot on the shores of the Maori. He left Rome at the end of July, 1836, and sailed from Havre de Grace on Christmas Eve of that year, in the “Delphine,” for Valparaiso, where he hoped to meet with another vessel to carry him to the South Seas. Damage to the rudder necessitated putting into Santa Cruz, Teneriffe, where the ship remained for fifty days for repairs. After a long and stormy voyage, during which water and food ran short, the Bishop and his staff reached Valparaiso in June 1837. One of the priests died on the voyage.
After a wait of two months, the mission party boarded the American ship “Europa,” which was bound for Hawaii, via the Gambier Islands (Mangareva) and Tahiti. At the latter island he found a schooner of about sixty tons called the “Raiatea,” a trading craft owned by the American Consul. The Bishop chartered this little craft for his diocesan cruisings, and sailed for Vavau, in the Friendly Islands, of which he had heard as a good safe harbour and a convenient place from which to explore the other groups of islands.
On this inter-island voyage Pompallier and his companions began the viva voce study of the English language, a difficult task but indispensable to those travelling or working in Oceania. The captain and mate were English, and nothing but English was spoken by the crew.
The Bishop, in the course of his description of this island voyage, made some shrewd comments on the method of procedure he intended to adopt with the natives of the islands where the missionaries were landed. The first essential was to learn the language of the people. “It is important,” he wrote, “from the outset not to teach religion, nor to make known your intention of changing that of the country. You can only succeed in the ministry of teaching when you are sufficiently conversant with the language of the people. It is enough in the beginning that they receive you with hospitality, and only recognise you as well-instructed travellers belonging to some great and civilised nation, desirous of learning their language to enable you to establish with them friendly and social relations. Generally the natives are flattered by these proposals.”
The missionary Bishop had many a taste of the perils of the sea in his cruises, but his experience in the Tonga Archipelago was the most disturbing of all. The wind dropped when Vavau harbour was being entered, and the becalmed
The Tonga group did not offer the Catholics a suitable field of labour, as Protestant missionaries had obtained a strong hold there. So the Bishop moved on to coral islands where the Polynesian populations had not yet received Christian propaganda. He gave the “Raiatea's” captain instructions to sail for the island of Wallis (Uvea) and Futuna, which lay about 350 miles from Vavau. Pompallier had learned at Vavau that the Protestant missionaries intended establishing themselves in these islands, and he determined to forestall them. Wallis consisted of a large island and several small ones, all very beautiful, surrounded by a great coral reef. The natives permitted them to land, and the head chief, Tungahala, received them in a very friendly way, but many of the people were suspicious of the white strangers —they probably had good reason for that attitude towards the men of the ships that roved the South Sea—and there were many moments of danger. Pursuant to his general policy, as naively set forth in his narrative, he did not divulge his character or his intentions for work on Wallis. He succeeded in inducing the king to permit two of his missioners to remain on the island; it was left to them to begin their ministrations when the time arrived, as soon as they had learned the language.
Similar arrangements were made at Futuna Island, which had a population of about a thousand people. These places eventually became converted to the Catholic faith. Another island visited by the “Raiatea” was Rotuma, to the north of Fiji. The island, the Bishop reported, was a huge grove of coconut and other tropical trees, and presented “a lovely sight.” From Rotuma the schooner sailed for Sydney, and after a pleasant stay there, the far-voyaging Bishop at last sailed for New Zealand.
He arrived at Hokianga in January, 1838, and sailed up the great tidal river to Mangamuka, piloted by a European who was established at Omapere, at the Heads, for the guidance of timber ships. Hokianga was at this time the greatest kauri-exporting harbour in New Zealand. At Mangamuka the Bishop was gladly received into the house of an Irish timber merchant, Mr. Thomas Poynton, afterwards a well-known resident of Takapuna, Auckland. The little “Raiatea,” which had borne the mission party safely over such a large area of the South Pacific, was sent back to her owner at Tahiti.
Settled at last in the new land, which was to be the scene of his labours for so many years—a house was built for them at Totara—Pompallier and his staff applied themselves to the study of English and Maori. Inevitably
Pompallier had a rather hard and trying life of it, because instead of receiving funds and assistants from Europe at the end of six months, it was not until he had been at Hokianga seventeen months that they reached him. This was in June, 1839, when three priests and three catechists of the Society of Mary arrived at the Bay of Islands from France via Valparaiso. The vessel in which they crossed the Pacific, a schooner named the “Reine de Paix,” was even smaller than the little “Raiatea.” She was a forty-ton craft, and so cranky that she nearly capsized during the voyage. Pompallier walked across to the Bay of Islands to meet his priests, and he then decided to fix the seat of his Bishopric at Kororareka, now Russell.
In the meantime he had made several missionáary journeys, in particular one to the Kaipara district. He was received everywhere with the customary hospitality of the Maori, and especially at Mangakahia, at the head of the Northern Wairoa; there is a quite eloquent description of his reception and farewell there in his own narrative (published in Auckland in 1888). With the funds he received from Europe he bought a house at Kororareka, and presently built a church after further funds had reached him.
The Bay of Islands establishment was made the headquarters store for all the mission stations to which he sent his priests. His chief need now was a suitable vessel in which to make cruises along the coast and maintain communications with the South Pacific Islands on which Catholic missions had been set up.
The Bishop was in residence at Kororareka when Captain Hobson arrived in H.M.S. “Herald,” in 1840, and he was present at the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi. There is no need to describe here his part in the ceremonious gathering there; that has been told in the histories which deal so fully with the Treaty. Sufficient to say that the Bishop very wisely kept aloof from politics. He explains in his narrative that when Rewa and other chiefs came to him beforehand and asked him whether they should or should not sign the Governor's document, he told them that it was entirely a matter for themselves to determine what they should do with their national sovereignty. “We were prepared to instruct them in the faith whether they continued New Zealanders or became English.” Dr. A. J. Harrop, in his book “England and New Zealand,” says it seemed clear that Pompallier was more interested in the welfare of the souls of the natives than in the colour of the flag which was to wave over them. His presence in New Zealand was a powerful influence in persuading the Protestant missionaries that their first objections to British colonisation must be abandoned in face of a possible French occupation.”
Pompallier testified in his narrative to the fairness and consideration of Governor Hobson. “His Excellency promised that my future missionary vessel should be free from all imposts, and that everything that came to me from beyond the country for the purpose of my labours should be free from duty.”
The active Bishop did not spare himself in the duty of visiting the southern parts of New Zealand. He went to Tauranga in a hired schooner and walked across the hills and through swamps and creeks to Matamata, where the Ngati-Haua tribe received him with ceremonious hospitality and provided men to carry him in a litter through the swamp between their large pa and the Waihou River. He visited the various tribes along the coast as far as Opotiki and Wharekahika, and on his return to the Bay of Islands he sent Father Viard to Tauranga as the first priest for that district and adjacent parts.
A reinforcement of priests and funds for the propagation of the Faith came from France in 1840, in the corvette “L'Aube,” commanded by Captain Lavaud, celebrated for his association with the French settlement at Akaroa.
The Bishop was now enabled to extend the scope of his mission considerably, and one of his first acts was to purchase a suitable vessel. He bought an American craft which happened, to be at the Bay of Islands, a topsail schooner called the “Atlas.” She cost him about 35,000 francs. He christened the schooner “Sancta Maria” and presently was off on the sea again, this time a voyage to the far south of the colony. Fathers Comte and Pesant had been given a passage to the south in “L'Aube.” The Bishop landed Father Tripe at Akaroa to minister to the French settlers there, and left Father Comte there also to attend to the Maori converts. The schooner went as far as Otago Harbour, and returning anchored at Moeraki, and spent several days with the people there. Pompallier by this time was able to speak Maori freely. Port Nicholson was the next place of call; there he spoke in English and Maori, and was well received by the citizens of infant Wellington. Colonel Wakefield, the chief agent of the New Zealand Company, gave him “a handsome subscription and made a gift of a piece of land for the establishment of the Catholic Mission.” After leaving at Port Nicholson a catechist, Dr. Fitzgerald, the Bishop set sail for Akaroa again, and visited the principal Maori villages in the bays of Banks Peninsula. Resting awhile in pleasant Akaroa, he employed himself in writing a Maori catechism for the use of the missionaries and natives.
Up anchor once more, and cruising northward to headquarters at the Bay of Islands, the Bishop visited some of the people in the East Cape district. It was March of 1841 before he finally stepped ashore at Kororareka after his voyagings; he had been away six months. Several more assistants arrived from France, and Pompallier was able presently to station priests and catechists at various large settlements of the tribes along the coast.
His first visit to the new town of Auckland was made at the end of July, 1841; there the Governor, Captain Hobson, gave him a section of land for a station and church, and arrangements were made for a priest to be sent to Auckland (Father Petitjean was presently stationed there), and the Bishop continued his cruising along the shore southward, addressing the Maoris and the stray traders settled here and there. On his visit to Tauranga this time, he decided to extend his activities to the Rotorua tribes. From Maketu, where he established a mission, he walked to Rotorua, accompanied by several chiefs. The Arawa people received him with the kindness he had invariably experienced in Maori districts. “We encountered tribes on our way,” he wrote in his account of the journey, “who had never seen the face of a Catholic priest, and who had only one little mission book. and yet who recited word for word the catechism and morning and evening prayers without a single mistake.” That was the experience of more than one pioneer white missionary in Maori
karakia. Korokai was the principal chief at Ohinemutu in those days, and Pompallier made a firm friend of him.
Sailing as far south as Akaroa, the mission schooner presently had company in the quiet anchorage there, of the French corvettes “Heroine” and ’Allier.” The former had called at the Bay of Islands and the commander brought a letter containing sad news. Father Chanel, one of the priests the Bishop had stationed on Futuan Island, in the tropic seas, had been killed by order of the native king of the island; the mission on Wallis Island was also in peril.
Pompallier decided to sail for the Islands, and Captain Lavaud, the Commandant in the French portion of the Akaroa settlement, placed one of the corvettes, the “Allier,” at his disposal, for any assistance that might be required. The French captain, Bouset, acted with mingled firmness and discretion at Futuna. He impressed on the natives the need for cultivating the friendship of the white people. The Bishop remained in the islands until he had established satisfactory relations, and when he departed again for New Zealand, after about five months, the whole of the inhabitants of Futuna and Wallis were Catholics, at any rate theoretically.
That summary of the pioneer Bishop's voyaging by sea and land over a period of less than four years, conveys some idea of the enormous burden of work which devolved upon him as a missionary leader in primitive lands. But it is necessary, also, in order to realise adequately the nature of his task, to remember that he had to grapple with a vast variety of problems ashore and afloat; to be not only a religious teacher but an ambassador to savage peoples, a diplomat, a linguist, a financier, an architect and builder, and a good deal also of a seaman. The discomforts were as great as the perils, the long voyages in small schooners and the anxieties of navigation in uncharted or all but uncharted seas and among labyrinths of coral reefs. No missionary in the South Seas a century ago had a soft or easy life.
Letters on record from Bishop Pompallier to Hone Heke and others, show that he made efforts to prevent the conflict which he saw looming in the North of New Zealand. He wrote to “Jean Heke,” as he called him, in the early part of 1845, strongly counselling peace, and warning the discontented chief that he would not be powerful enough to resist the English, with their millions. He suggested that Heke should write to the Colonial Government and to the Queen of England with regard to his claims concerning lands and authority. “Claim your rights before declaring war. The words and writing of a man of honour are better than the bloody sword.” (This is one of the letters quoted by Mr. J. J. Wilson in his history of the Catholic Church in New Zealand.) But war came, and Kororareka went up in flames—all except the English and Catholic Church establishments. The Bishop's house was one of the few buildings spared by the triumphant Ngapuhi when the Pakeha people evacuated the town. The Bishop remained, with two members of the mission and some faithful Maoris. He wrote in May, 1845, in a letter to Europe: “Now I reside in the midst of cinders, and have only ruins under my eyes, but notwithstanding the sadness with which the spectacle fills my soul I continue to work for the salvation of my flock in sending them the missionaries, who are well received everywhere.”
When Pompallier wished to make a visit to his native land in 1846, and to render to Rome an account of his labours, Captain Berard, commanding the French corvette “Le Rhin” provided him with a passage. The ship sailed from Akaroa on April 16, 1846, and arrived at Toulon in August. The Bishop visited Rome in September and paid homage to His Holiness the Pope, and reported the progress of his missionary work in New Zealand and Oceania. He returned to New Zealand in 1850, landing at Auckland on the 8th of April. He brought with him a number of Irish and French priests and the first contingent of the Sisters of Mercy, who rendered such noble service in New Zealand in caring for the orphans and the sick and helpless and distressed. The good Bishop now had his Church well established throughout the colony, and he was ceaseless in his endeavours to extend the mission. He brought out priests who became not able figures in the growing community.
Pompallier was a greatly experienced voyager in all manner of vessels, from smart frigates to leisurely whaleships and tiny schooners. He seems to have made a second voyage to Europe to recruit his forces for New Zealand and the South Seas, for it was recorded that the French whaleship “General Testa” arrived at Auckland on December 30, 1860, bringing as passengers Bishop Pompallier, 21 of his clergy, and several Sisters of Mercy.
After thirty years of labour in his widely-spread mission field the great Bishop obtained leave from Rome to retire. It was reported that in his
in partibus. His rest from his long and trying toil was not long. He lived chiefly at Puteaux, near Paris, where he died on December 20, 1870, worn out by his great labours and travels in the cause of his Church.
Such is the story, in necessarily brief compass, of a wonderfully energetic and able man, and a brave, zealous and self-sacrificing apostle of his Faith among the primitive folk of the strange new Southern world.
There is a small pakeha and Maori settlement in the far north of Auckland whose name commemorates the great Bishop. It is called Pamapuria, which is the Maori pronunciation of Pompallier. On the gate of an old fashioned and pretty home in Russell township, a place of history and garden-charm, there is the name “Pompallier,” a reminder of the fact that the house was the home of the Bishop when Kororareka was his headquarters ninety years ago. The record of his early days in New Zealand and the South Pacific is given in his own narrative, edited by Bishop Luck, and published in Auckland in 1888; and the pioneer period of the Church is carried on by Mr. J. J. Wilson in two volumes that represent a vast amount of careful and patient research.
For the use of books and notes consulted in writing this sketch of Pompallier's life I am indebted to Mr. H. E. Fildes, of Wellington.
The following story was awarded the first prize in the senior section of the competition recently held by the New Zealand Women Writers' and Artists' Society.
“
Hul-lo, kiddie! What do you want?”
The tall, bronzed man halted in his stride and looked down. A small, grubby hand, tightly clasping a wilted bunch of daisies and dandelions, was thrust at him between the white fence-palings; and on the other side of that fence stood a small, dark-haired little girl. She looked up at him with pleading in her brown eyes.
“Please, will you buy a pretty bunch of flowers?”
“A pretty bunch of flowers?” He took it from her little hot hand and stood looking at it, a quizzical smile on his thin brown face. His hand was thrust in his pocket, seeking a Coin. “How much?”
“Sixpence,” she said eagerly, stretching out her open palm.
“Sixpence! Phew!” He gave a low whistle, but produced the coin. “You're a bright little business woman,” he laughed as he handed it to her. “Saving up?”
“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, and added with eyes full of pathetic gratitude “You're my first customer today.”
“Am I! And what's the fund for, brownie? Buying a Christmas present for Mum?”
“I'm ’n orphan,” she informed him with wide-eyed gravity; “and I'm saving up to buy a farm.”
“A farm?” he took a step backwards with an air of comical surprise. “A farm?”
She nodded.
“Well—! And how much have you saved up?”
“Got threepence in my money-box,” she assured him proudly. “And now this'll make ninepence—nearly a shilling!” Then her face clouded. “Don't know when I'll get any more, though, ’nless they don't cut the grass for a long time again, ’n I can pick the flowers to sell. I just thought of that to-day! I read ’bout a little girl who sold flowers in one of the books. An' now I've got nearly a shilling!” The shine in her eyes led the tall man to put his hand back in his pocket, tentatively.
“A man gave me the threepence at the last picnic,” she continued, her face lighting. “The nice man who took me in his car. Lots of them came, ’n took all the orphans ‘way out in the country, where there were lots of trees; ’n we had a real, real picnic.”
“A real, real picnic! Just think of that, eh?” the tall man's good-looking face had lost its smile suddenly; he had read the word “Orphanage” above the gate, and he looked down at the child with a little crease between his brows.
All unconscious of the change, she prattled on, her own face clouding once more.
“Yes, but that's years ’nd years ago now. Don't expect we'll ever go again.” Her mouth dropped, then the smile returned suddenly. “Oh, but when I buy my farm, then I'll live in the country all the time! ’N I'll have a cow, ’n a horse, ’n some fowls—”
“I see!” the firm lips curved humorously in the brown face. “Then it'll be a real picnic all the time, won't it?”
“Yes,” she smiled up at him, happy in finding such a sympathetic hearer. “Have you been in the country?”
“Live there,” he replied briefly.
A look of utter amazement crossed her face. “Oh, you are lucky!” it was a gasp of sheer envy. “But—but what are you doing in the town?”
What was he doing in the town? It was a hard question to answer for such an enthusiast about the joys of country life.
“Er—er, having a holiday,” he said lamely.
“Oh!” she looked so comical with mouth and eyes wide open that he laughed; and then he turned to go, but paused to throw something over the fence to her.
“Well here's a Christmas box to help on the good cause,” he said jokingly, and strode away. He smiled
As for the child, she raced for the shining thing he had thrown to her and picked it up—and it was a whole, bright, silver half-crown! She rolled over in the grass and kicked up her heels and squirmed with glee, then got up and ran as fast as she could to the big white orphanage-building.
Eileen was waiting for her husband to come in. She stood close to the window of their room in the hotel, and looked out over the roofs. It was almost stiflingly hot; she had been out shopping, and her head ached. When Jim came in she would persuade him to go for a walk with her in Albert Park, where it was cool and green, and there were trees. They could stay there and watch the sun set, and listen to the birds.
She turned with a smile as he came in.
“Well, dear?”
“Well, dear! Been shopping?”
“Yes, Jim. Isn't it hot? Let's go for a walk in the park.”
“You sure said it, Mrs. Clifford,” said Eileen's tall husband breezily. “Yes; let's get where there's a breeze.” He drew his hand from his pocket and threw something across to her.
“Oh Jim! What on earth—” she looked down at the withered bunch of daisies and dandelions in her hand, and looked up at him with a questioning smile and a crease between her fair brows. “What is it? Where did you—?”
“I bought them,” he explained, and enjoyed the surprise on her face.
“Yes, I did, Eileen! A very young lady sold me those for sixpence—you see, as she explained to me, she was establishing a fund to buy herself a farm.”
“A farm! Go on, Jim, you're—”
“Honour bright, Eileen, it's true.” Jim relapsed suddenly into seriousness. “Poor little kiddie … She'd been into the country once, and she'd made up her mind to go and live there. She was in an orphanage, Eileen, and they'd taken her out to the bush for a picnic; she was saving up to go back—and she'd already got the princely sum of threepence! She was full of hope, though—and enterprise! She stopped me as I passed by, and sold me this—and I gave her half-a-crown—it was worth it, just to see her smile.” He smiled himself, at the recollection. “You would have laughed at the funny little kid! She was so serious about it, too.”
Eileen did not laugh. Her eyes were clouded and her brow wrinkled as she turned towards the window. There was a pain in her heart.
“Poor little thing,” she said softly. “I understand how she must have felt. Jim, we've planned this holiday for such a long time, and it really is fun being in the city—for a while; but just think of living here always! So hot, and dusty, and dull, scarcely a decent tree, except in the parks; and no birds except sparrows. Fancy never being able to wake up and listen to the birds—”
“Fancy never having to tramp out in the mud and frost and milk the cows,” said Jim with a wry face.
“Jim, you know perfectly well you'd rather do that than get up in a mouldy little city house on a mouldy, misty morning and tram off to a mouldy, stuffy office!”
“Darling, of course I know it! I was only teasing,” he kissed her to make amends, but she did not smile; she was looking away over the roofs of the city—roofs, roof, roofs as far as she could see, with hot sky arched above, and the hot sun blazing down onto concrete and corrugated iron; she was thinking of a comfortable farmhouse, ringed round by trees, of a long drive sweeping to the white road, and pohutukawa trees covered with crimson bloom.
“I'm so glad we arranged to be back for Christmas Day,” she said. “I couldn't have stood it away from home—it would have been so different, not like Christmas at all.” Again she looked out over the roofs. “That poor kiddie! Imagine spending Christmas in a city orphanage.”
“Probably they have quite good fun,” said Jim cheerfully; but Eileen was not listening. Another tumult rose in her heart. She was thinking of her own two babies, and their little grave in the quiet country cemetery. They had both been boys; one of them had lived just a year; the other scarcely a month. There had never been any since… .
Her hands clenched convulsively, and she strove to keep back the hot tears.
“It isn't fair,” she said in a choked voice, “it isn't fair! There are so many, many poor little children who aren't wanted, and so many, many women who wanted children and haven't any! It isn't fair … .” she gulped, and struggled with the hot feelings that rose up seeking expression; then she ended by saying with a little strained laugh, “It's a silly world … and I'm silly, too. Come on!”
She passed through the door and preceeded her husband down the stairs.
The next day Eileen was busy packing. Carefully she folded the pretty new things she had bought in the shops of Queen Street.
“Won't I be able to show off to my neighbours,” she laughed, sitting back on her heels. “What fun!”
“I'm thinking we'll have to start cutting the hay almost as soon as we get back,” said Jim.
“Not till Boxing Day at least! You can wait till then, can't you? We must have a real Christmas together. I'm going to cook for all I'm worth the day after to-morrow.”
“Your sister will be there almost as soon as we are,” said Jim.
“No, she's not coming till the day after to-morrow. I wrote and told her we'd be coming home two days before Christmas, so she'd better come Christmas Eve Day. I'll be in the middle of
(Continued on page 35.)
A Neat Little City and its Environs: Told by the Camera.
A glimpse of Whangarei, North Auckland, New Zealand.
The Whangarei Falls, one of the beauty spots of the Far North. (Rly. Publicity photos.)
No longer dependent entirely on the sea, and now well served by railway and road, Whangarei is a key point of the North Auckland peninsula. Having mineral as well as agricultural resources, Whangarei is broader-based than most provincial districts, and it has beauties of forest and fall. The Whangarei Falls shewn in the photograph are some three and a half miles from the town, and seventeen miles away are the great Wairua Falls. Kauri grandeur is seen at Puhipuhi. The town itself has a prettiness of its own. Its taste for native growth is seen in puriri avenues in streets. It has municipal status.
The Place of our Beginnings: Told by the Camera.
Russell, Bay of Islands, North Island, New Zealand.
Railway's End: Opua, Bay of Islands, North Island, New Zealand. (Rly. Publicity photos.)
Russell claims to be the oldest settlement in New Zealand. Europeans had settled there in 1829, and Marsden first called there in 1814. Russell is so approachable by water that until recent years there was no formed road to it. Traffic requirements are met by the railway service to Opua, and the connection with Russell is by launch. To think of the Bay of Islands is to think of the missionaries, the whalers, Waitangi, the belligerent Heke (cutter-down of flagstaffs), the friendly chief Waka Nene (who sleeps in the local churchyard), and various other figures in the early dawn of New Zealand history.
(Continued from page 31.)
cooking, but that doesn't matter. Thank goodness I cooked the puddings and Christmas cake long ago!”
“I hope Joblings haven't let the place run to seed.”
“Oh, they won't! Some people have such wretched luck with sharemilkers—we've been lucky, haven't we!” Once more Eileen sat back on her heels. “Oh, isn't it nice to think tomorrow evening we'll be home! I always think coming home is the best part of a holiday…”
“I know it is,” said Jim with conviction; he picked up a brown-wrapped package that lay on the bed.
“Here,” Eileen shrieked at him, “don't touch! That's mine—at least, it will be yours on Christmas morning, but just you leave it at present!” She seized it from him and hid it in the bottom of her case. “Oh, by the way, I met Laura Gunning this morning and she's asked me to go out with her this evening. Do you think you could look after yourself for once?”
“Sure! I'll get on fine without you,” said Jim—and ducked to avoid his wife's shoe.
That afternoon at half-past five he left Eileen waiting for her friend in Queen Street and went on a mission—he was going to get his wife a Christmas present.
He walked up a long drive and knocked at a big door, which was opened by a trim little maid.
“Good afternoon. May I see the matron?”
“Certainly. This way, sir.”
He was presented to a middle-aged woman of plump proportions and wrinkled, worried visage. She beamed on him. He would like to see through the institution? Certainly … a pleasure… .
“We'll go straight into the dining-room. They're just having tea.”
She opened a door, and Jim was acutely embarrassed by the stare of about one hundred and fifty pairs of young eyes, as the children who were at tea rose out of respect to the visitor.
He coughed. The matron commanded “Sit down,” and there was again the clatter of knives and spoons and the noise of voices.
Close on one hundred and fifty children sat at tea around five long tables in the huge room. The matron and her visitor walked up and down, until Jim felt sure he had gazed into the face of everyone present. He turned to the matron.
“Are these all the children?”
“All? Why, yes.”
It was a disappointment. Evidently some-one else had been before him and taken away what he came to seek.
“Anyway, all except one. One of the children has been very naughty, and she has to have her meals alone as a punishment.”
“Oh! Couldn't we see her, too?”
The matron raised her brows. “As part of her punishment she shouldn't see any visitors—but as you ask—certainly she is a good child usually.”
The dark-eyed little girl was sulkily eating bread-and-butter in a bare little room; her eyes were red and her lips pouted—but when Jim entered she started up, crying.
“O