Contents
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.
In all cases where the Administration makes announcements through the medium of this journal the fact will be clearly indicated.
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 nom de plume.
Short stories, poetry, pen-and-ink sketches, etc., are invited from the general public upon New Zealand subjects.
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.
The ditor cannot undertake the return of Ms.
All communications should be addressed to The Editor, New Zealand Railways Magazine, Wellington. 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.
The Department's accounts show that the sales of the Magazine during the year ended 31st March, 1936, were more than treble those of the previous financial year.
Deputy-Controller and Auditor-General.
26/5/36.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
A striking camera study of Lake Gunn, on the famous scenic highway between Te Anau and Milford Sound, South Island, New Zealand. (Rly. Publicity photo.) For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise.
—Addison.
Railways
Magazine
Magazine
Registered at the G.P.O., Wellington, N.Z., for transmission by Post as a Newspaper.
“”
For Better Service.Vol. XI. No. 6.
Wellington,
New Zealand.
September1, 1936
Progress In New Zealand.
In 1940 New Zealand will celebrate its Centennial when an opportunity will be given, and taken, to review the progress of this country since British sovereignty was first declared here.
In any true record of the Dominion's development must first be considered the disadvantages under which the early settlers laboured through the time-distance of the young colony from the older countries, the unsettled conditions which prevailed during many years while a basis for amicable relations with the native race was hammered out on the anvil of experience and common-sense, and the sturdy spirit of independence in outlook and action which these handicaps tended to foster.
What other countries have taken thousands of years to achieve New Zealand has accomplished in less than a hundred; but its people, in considering the progress made, must realise the debt they owe to the increasing freedom of communication with other lands, to the literature of the Englishspeaking nations, to moving pictures (both silent and sound-synchronised), to wireless, and to the bounteous nature of the land which produces so richly the primary products for export, from which the people obtain in return the best that science and art in other parts of the world can offer.
The continued success of New Zealand in leading the world in health, with the lowest deathrate of any country, is a tribute alike to the excellent climatic conditions and to the guidance and advice of the Health and Education Departments and of the medical profession generally.
From the sound basis of health we go on with confidence to attempt the improvement of the economic and cultural aspects of life.
It has been well said that “when men trade and travel they talk and think.” The increasing trade of New Zealand and the ever-growing travel tendency have helped in the cultural development of the people to a marked degree.
This active intercourse has been aided by the speeding up of transport between this country and the older lands and between the different parts of our own country. And although external wars and varying economic conditions have left their impress on our people, there has been a continued foundation of internal peace which has assisted towards a steady progress in the arts and sciences, as any visitor to the recently opened Dominion Museum and National Art Gallery in Wellington must realise very forcibly.
The future holds out high hopes for human betterment when a review is taken of the rapid and comprehensive progress recorded in New Zealand, particularly during the latter years of its first century of civilisation.
Railway Progress In New Zealand
General Manager's Message.
Level Crossings.
As the question of safety at level-crossings has been raised in connection with the introduction of rail cars, and suggestions have been made that the potential danger to road-users might be increased with the replacement of steam trains by the faster and quieter-moving rail-cars, it may be of interest from the point of view of the public to place on record experienced official opinion regarding the matter.
Firstly, compared with either the driver of the steam train or the road vehicle, the driver of the rail-car is much more favourably placed in regard to three important aspects affecting the safety of movement of the vehicle under his control, i.e., visibility, control and concentration.
The wide and unobstructed visibility of the driver, seated in front of the rail-car, beside the guard, has been the subject of much favourable comment by many persons who have had the opportunity of riding in the driver's compartment and viewing the line from this most interesting position. Representatives of the Press, in particular, have been most interested in the view from this angle, and have conveyed through the columns of their respective papers personal observations that should do much to remove some wrong impressions.
Guided by its own wheels and freed of any necessity for steering, the rail-car finds its own pathway without the aid of the driver, whose whole attention can, without effort, be applied to what is in front of him.
The driver's ability to concentrate without the distraction of having to manipulate a steering wheel in order to keep on the track or clear of opposing and following vehicles, leaves him free to operate the controls and Westinghouse brake according to circumstances as they may arise.
The rail-car, with a powerfully operated Westinghouse rim brake applied on each of its six wheels simultaneously, and ample sanding appliances, plus a hand-brake operating on the front bogie and rear wheels, can be controlled in exactly the same way as any properly equipped and driven road vehicle, and there is no reason why the driver of the rail-car (designed as it is to stop and start with the same facility as a road vehicle) should not, when there is any doubt, approach a level-crossing with the same care and caution as a careful driver of a motor car would approach a doubtful intersection in a busy thoroughfare.
Then, again, the rail-car is fitted with a powerful, penetrating and distinctive syren which can be freely used according to circumstances, and experience has shown that it will not be misunderstood.
However, with all the care and caution the drivers of the rail-cars may take, the onus of satisfying themselves that the railway line is safe to pass over still rests upon the road-user, and this must inevitably always be the case so long as level-crossings remain.
That “eternal vigilance is the price of safety” is a motto followed by all railwaymen, and it could well be adopted by all road-users as a guiding principle in the observance of the law on the subject of motor traffic at levelcrossings, which reads as follows:—
(1) Every person driving a motor-vehicle on any road or street shall when approaching a railway-crossing reduce speed when within one hundred yards of the crossing to a rate not exceeding fifteen miles an hour, and shall not increase speed until after he has crossed the railway-line. It shall be his duty to keep a vigilant lookout for approaching trains, and he shall not attempt to cross unless the line is clear.
(2) If at any such crossing there is a “compulsory-stop” sign, erected pursuant to regulations under the Motorvehicles Act, 1924, or by the railway authorities, it shall be the duty of the person driving any motor-vehicle as aforesaid to stop at such sign for such time as may be necessary to make adequate observations to ascertain whether or not the line is clear.
(3) Every person who fails to comply with the requirements of this section or who crosses or attempts to cross any railway-line while the same is not clear commits an offence and is liable to a fine of ten pounds.
After travelling many thousands of miles by rail-car and passing over practically every level-crossing in New Zealand (many of them on numerous occasions), I hold the view that the introduction of the rail-car, where it replaces a steam-driven train, will minimise rather than increase the possibility of accidents at level-crossings.
General Manager.
(Written for the “N.Z. Railways Magazine” by)
“Autolycus.”
(
S. P. Andrew photo.)
The Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways.
Only a few men in New Zealand carry so heavy a burden of public responsibility as the Honourable Daniel Giles Sullivan, Minister for Railways, and for Industries and Commerce and the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. The railways alone would be a sufficient load for the most able of administrators, the largest business undertaking and State industry in the Dominion with its capital value of #60,000,000 and its staff of sixteen thousand. One would expect a statesman charged with such duties to present a careworn, overburdened anxious face to the world, bowed down by his ever-increasing duties. But Mr. Sullivan is the perennial boy, ever ebullient. He is a tremendous worker, always busy yet never too busy for something new; he has assumed great cares, he is methodical, and brings to every task a deeply experienced mind and a wonderful accumulation of knowledge. But he has a joyous capacity for throwing off the load of office for an interlude of pure fun. His merry, whimsical face, his irrepressible curly hair, accentuate and index his essential cheerfulness. Yet in his time he has sounded the depths of sorrow and seen man's inhumanity to man in its saddest form.
Mr. Sullivan is a deeply educated man, whose knowledge was gained in the school of humanity — an education all the more profound, perhaps, because it lacked the academic schooling of the colleges. He began life under a handicap. Of humble parentage and as a member of a large family in Christchurch city, to whom the struggle for existence was an everyday reality, he missed the joyous carefree life that boys should normally have in a country like this. His father was a hard-working Irishman, his mother a Scotswoman of sterling character. They gave him a sturdy, wholesome selfreliant upbringing. Necessity made him a man while he was scarcely out of his teens. At the Marist Brothers’ school in Christchurch, where he received all his school education, he was an exceptionally bright pupil, passing the sixth standard at the age of eleven. But during his schooling, from week to week, he proudly delivered to a grateful and loving mother the pence earned by selling newspapers in the streets of his native city, of which he was destined to be the first and mosthonoured citizen. Of all his achievements since the passing of those boyhood days none is worthy of higher tribute than that spirit of affectionate comradeship which existed between him, his mother and his father while life remained with them. Indeed, the secret of the success of his career is due in a large measure to the character moulded from the courage of heart and warmth of soul he displayed in those early years of his life.
Even during his school life, his live, social instincts were manifested in an intense interest in history, more particularly in its social aspects. From school he went to work at market gardening for a year, and was then apprenticed to the French-polishing trade at the age of thirteen. Unlike so many youths, his education did not finish with the completion of his schooling; indeed, it only then began. He read so assiduously that he was often seen going to and from his work with his eyes glued to a book of history. He read everything, and became particularly well-versed in the lives of the great philosophers, statesmen, explorers and scientists from Roman times onwards. To-day there are few men so deeply versed in the story of human understanding, attainment and achievement. His life has been moulded largely by that profound, self-directed study.
Debating club activities attracted his attention, and at the age of sixteen he held his first office in the Trades Union movement, as secretary to the Furniture Workers’ Picnic Committee, a small thing, but symptomatic of his future. His future life's interests, too, were stimulated greatly by the influence of his grandfather, a truly grand old man, one John Dow, a Scot and a Socialist, who was employed by the Railway Department. It has been said a thought never dies. John Dow's dominating thought is still expressing itself in the life of his grandson. In the pauses of a busy life it is the words of John Dow that doubtless still echo in his mind, “I'm a Socialist, Dan, dy'e ken what that means? Dy'e ken what a Socialist is?”
Wilde reading stimulated a desire for wide travel. He wanted now to see and observe something of the conditions under which people lived in other countries. From New Zealand he went to Australia. In Melbourne he was stranded without work or money. He applied himself to making small articles of furniture, which he sold from door to door, just managing to make a bare living. Presently he earned enough to take himself to England, and gradually he made himself acquainted with the conditions of work throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland, earning sufficient in each place to carry himself on to the next. The inflexible resolution and resource-fulness displayed in the execution of his plan to gain this experience of life, combined wit those qualities of courage, affection and warmth of soul which we observed in his boyhood, are closely related to his successful after life. Indeed, the glamour of his public life, unrelated to its background, would not bring the qualities of the man into proper relief and perspective.
Finding himself in Southampton with but a few shillipngs in his pocket, at nineteen years of age, he realised he was in a new hard world, vastly different from that which he had left behind. Within tw hours of his arrival in London he had located the Trades Union, adjoining a cellar-bar, which was its only access. The atmosphere was sordid and depressing in the extreme; it seemed to fit the general environment of labour. In the matter of food as well as lodging the needs of shillings had to be satisfied with pence and sometimes less. He was often hungry witout the means of satisfying his craving. Sometimes the bleak bank of the Thames was his bed. He observed humanity under its most miserable conditions, starving, atrophied, blighted lives, in a cold, indifferent, and selfish world. On atleast one occasion he worked in a sweat shop under conditions of illventilation, over-crowding and exploitation. He did not hesitate to choose the Thames Embankment again, but he did not leave without telling those responsible in his most lucid language what he thought of the inhuman conditions they were imposing on their helpless victims. He saw the blackest side of England's industrial life. He has never forgotten the unfortunate pauper foraging in the rubbish bin for scraps in the East End, and the contrast of ostentatious luxury and surfeit of the West End, Selfis pampering, lavish waste flaunted in the faces of those who had nothing.
He visited Scotland and Ireland. In the latter country he worked for twelve months, mostly in the ship-building yards of Belfast. There he found poverty, but not those degrading and soul-destroying conditions which he had experienced in London. He returned to his native land after an absence of four or five years. He brought back with him two clear and distinct impressions. One was appreciation of the old London and other cities with all their traditions, institutions, magnificent architecture, and th enduring historical background which always had enthralledim. The other and opposite impression was one of fierce resentment of the conditions of sordid poverty and lack of humanitrianism which condemned so many
On the Puhi puhi Road, Kaikoura, South Island, New Zealand.
His social conscience had been quickened and fired, his convictions deepened, and his resolution determined to interest himself in social reform. He was convinced of the injustices, the wretchedness, the horrors of unrestrained capitalism, sof far as it affected the vast majority of the people.
Upon his return to New Zealand at twenty-two years of age Dan Sullivan quite consciously dedicated his life to a work, the objective of which was to prevent the evil conditions of the Old World taking charge of this country. He devoted himself with enthusiasm to the Trades Union movement and the then political Labour cause. He filled all the offices of the Christchurch Furniture Trades Union, organised it throughout Canterbury and the West Coast, and in conducting its cases and the cases of many other unions before the Arbitration Court he established a reputation as a most effective advocate. Stepping into the most important offices of the Labour movement in quick succession, Mr. Sullivan became president of the United Trades Furniture Federation, which he represented in the Trades and Labour Council; president of Canterbury Trades and Labour Council and of the United Federation of Labour. As a public speaker he graduated in the open air in Cathedral Square, along with such other stalwarts as the Hon. J. A. McCullough, M.L.C., James Thorn, M.P., E. J. Howard, M. P. Chairman of Committees in the House of Representatives, and others who had visions of a new and better world which they were determined to realise.
After many attempts Mr. Sullivan was elected to the Christchurch City Council in 1915. In 1931 he was elected Mayor, and in 1933 he again won the Mayoralty by a great majority of over 8000 votes. In 1935 a most determined attempt was made by the opponents of Labour to defeat him. The effort failed, Mr. Sullivan triumphed, and he was, in a personal sense, placed in a stronger position than ever.
Coincidently wit his personal and overwhelming gains of public confidence a Parliamentary career no less spectacular was commenced in 1919, when he defeated the Hon. G. W. Russell for the Avon constituency. At every election since then he was re-elected with an increased majority. From the time he first appeared on the horizon of public life in Christchurch he has gained the growing affection of his supporters and the respect of his opponents. His simple and straightforward manner and unfailing courtesy, his singleness of purpose in honestly serving the community, the clear, practical constructive application of his principles to the needs of life, his ability and tireless energy, all suffused with the enthusiasm of a youthful heart, have gained for him the solid regard of his countrymen.
Mr. Sullivan's happy relationship with the people of his city was strengthened greatly by his wife's self-sacrificing work on behalf of the citizens during the distressing years 1931–35. Their lives over that period were completely devoted to te needs of the people, regardless of all other considerations,
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
A Gods Train Crossing The Makatote Viaduct (260 Ft. High), North Island Main Trunk Line New Zealand.
I should have mentioned in an earlier part of this sketch the brilliant journalistic work of Mr. Sullivan. On the Christchurch “Sun” he gained a high reputation for his business capacity and also for his news sense and his solid work as a writer of articles on subjects of the day. Had he not been impelled irresistibly into Parliamentary life he would have made a great newspaper editor.
It was natural that after his long and strenuous work as Labour member Mr. Sullivan should have been called to the Cabinet immediately Labour achieved its wonderful triumph at the elections. His career in the administration of the Railways need not be detailed here, because it is familiar enough to readers through the daily newspaper reports and the monthly announcements in this magazine. The railways are in most capable hands, and business is being speeded up in a remarkable degree.
Mr. Sullivan recently made an announcement regarding the methods the Government intended to adopt for the purpose of assisting New Zealand manufacturers to expand markets and raise the standard of their goods. Three schemes would be put into operation to bring this about—to study the effects of new legislation on industry, and to afford relief where necessary a small committee was to be set up as an investigation medium. The second scheme provided for a greater measure of help from scientific and industrial research, and the third was to procure the co-ordination and standardisation of industry. Some manufacturers were asking questions about increased costs. The Minister of Customs (the Hon. W. Nash) and he had evolved a plan whereby there would be an examination of the various industries on production charges.
The Hon. D. G. Sullivan speaking from the step of the railear Maahunui, during the recent tour over the North Island lines.
Turning to the third scheme, that of introducing industrial standards and secuing co-ordination, Mr. Sullivan said that twenty-two great industrial countries had adopted those plans, and had been quick to realise their importance and value, not only in industrial efficiency, but as savers of production costs.
Mr. Sullivan, in his capacity as Minister of Industries and Commerce, has a clear vision and a strong purpose in regard to the reorganisation of New Zealand industries.
“Industry must resort to more coordination if it is to achieve efficiency,” he said. “A very large percentage of the industries of New Zealand are in a state of muddlement bordering on chaos. We have done something already by stabilising prices in some branches of industry, but we have only touched the fringe and must go further. There will be no 'big stick’ compulsion, but we will try to bring manufacturers to realise the benefits of coordination and then try to get them to adopt a plan.”
This is the man whom the Prime Minister has placed in charge of the New Zealand Railways.
Business, Commercial And Educational Institutions Of Hastings.
(1)Iona College from the air; (2) Watties Ltd., new canning works; (3) Block of modern flats, Nelson Street; (4) Westerman's corner; (5) Interior, Foster Brook's Book Emporium; (6) Land and Highways retail and factory premises; (7) Hastings High School; (8) The Pacific Hotel.
By).
O. N. Gillespie
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
Windsor Park, the well-known motor camping ground at Hastings.
It is an old saying that the wealth of a land is in its soil. If it is truth, then Hastings is built upon treasure trove. As a matter of fact, the inevitable and rapid growth of the town has its tragic side. Each extra increment of its population spreads over and hides a rich lode. Such is the inordinate, the abounding and extraordinary fertility of the land of the district, that it amounts to sheer extravagance to cover it with paved roads, footpaths, homes and buildings, however handsome they may be. For aeons, the wandering rivers have been bringing in this huge, spreading series of flats, the countless riches of their gatherings. In many places, there are six feet of this black opulence from which any growing thing will spring with vivid life and swift strength. In a land of sunshine and warm and friendly rains, this area rightly claims many leadership rights. Its actual hours of sunshine place it along with Nelson and Napier among the world leaders in the blue sky's greatest gift. Its rainfall, still, is ample for all purposes, but its rainy days might have been arranged on a limit fixed by tennis or cricket enthusiasts. It is an open air man's paradise.
The town itself is, as the Frenchman said “something to rave.” It is the youngest of our substantial county capitals, a red-haired beauty among so many splendid sisters. Its present population is 12,747, having grown since last counting by 2,599. I know of no place in New Zealand with such a spic and span air of freshness. Here, as in Napier and Gisborne, all earthquake traces have been obliterated. Hastings, in a different sense from all other of the cities in miniature of the Dominion, had no heritage of early carefree muddle, of lack of wise vision. It is almost a town planner's model; broad streets at right angles, ample wide spaces, and striking and lavish parks. Many of the new buildings are in, those delightful pastel shades of tinted concrete, and there is hardly an ugly edifice in the whole business section. The lighting is clear, fine, and efficient, and the noble main street is an avenue of lustre in the evening. I confess that I would like some more of those brilliant reds and blues of the Neon signs which make so many of our towns a fairyland at night time. As the town area is flat, symmetrically networked with streets in ordered series, comparison with Christchurch or Invercargill is inevitable. The ubiquity of the bicycle and their kerbside racks, and the slightly careworn faces of motorists as they watch these random little vehicles in wheeling flocks, are points of resemblance.
The town itself is a half-century old, and its achievement,
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
Heretaunga Street, the principal thoroughout of Hastings.
It is a busy, bustling, cheerful, thriving distributing centre, whose immediate task is to supply the needs of the happy dwellers on a hundred thousand acres or more of the richest land in the world. I went out with mine host of the pleasant Pacific Hotel at eleven o'clock in the morning, and the main street wore the air of a small metropolis. Motor cars lined the principal streets and were parked in every available side thoroughfare. People were coming in and out of the handsome shops, mostly wearing that indefinable, but easily recognisable, air of the “primary producer.”
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
A glimpse of Cornwall Park, Hastings, showing the open-air swimming pool in the foreground.
The business premises are modern in the last degree. Westerman's, for instance, pictured in our illustration, ranks with the drapery emporiums in its wide range of stock, the sumptuous fittings, and the up-to-date methods of display.
In Hastings, as in many other similar towns, anyone can shop to the same advantage as in any of our major four centres. I got into conversation with a pilgrim from well back in the hills while shaving one morning. The Pacific Hotel has that best of all men's comforts, a roomy toilet foyer with mirror-lined walls, where one can shave without monopolising the bathroom. This makes for conversation, and I found that my lathered acquaintance was getting the whole of his kit for a trip to the Old Land in Hastings. I wish New Zealanders would count their blessings in this regard, for no other country on the globe has country centres which give the same service.
Here in Hastings, too, I found an industry which was a complete surprise. The firm of Land and Highway make tents and camping equipment to meet orders from all parts of the Dominion. Their tents can be seen in the Eglinton Valley or the Hokianga camping grounds. It is just a case of skill and brains united to experience, in a locality where open air recreation is universal and easy. Their show of sports goods, too, was witness to the prosperity and the healthy habits of the people. It would do credit to any capital of Europe.
In this regard, however, Hastings simply asserts its parity with the rest of the provincial capitals of the Dominion. Its first eye-opening, distinctive possession, is Cornwall Park, of which we show pictures. This consists of twenty acres of formal and informal Garden of Eden. The soil makes the curator's job one of sheer joy. Mountain trees are there that I have never seen before on the flat. The gardens are apparently endless and riotous in their luxuriance. The ample water supply has been most ingeniously used. There are several sparkling sheets of ornamental waters, winding streams lined with roughcast edging interspersed with seats and novel bridges. The forest giants, the long avenue of tall palms, the vivid green velvet of the lawns, give this bowered retreat an atmosphere of centuries of age. For good measure, there are fine aviaries, monkey houses, playing apparatus for children, making a miniature zoo.
Cornwall is an impressive and beautiful art object and would be admired in Paris or Rome. Windsor Park is known to many readers of this article. This is the far-famed Hastings Camping Ground.
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
New Zealand girl workers at Wattles Canning Factory, at Hastings.
There are other recreation areas, such as Ebbett Park, with its priceless and exquisite Maori carvings, but the first two I have mentioned are rightly regarded by the townsfolk with pride and by visitors with delighted appreciation. The neighbourhood streets in Hastings are themselves, very often, small ornamental pleasure grounds, providing a restful sight-seeing tour. Many of them, with their trim kerbings, paved roadways, footpaths with flower and lawn edgings, and the absence of concealing hedges, are reminiscent of the best environs of Los Angeles. By the way, I encountered one unique characteristic of the Hastings folk. In this land of ours, where the Sybarite who complained of the crumpled roseleaf, would be by comparison, a cheery soul compared with many of our chronic grumblers, it is rare to find this phenomenon; I discovered that the place is wholly satisfied with its municipal government. This may be due to the extreme and unique lowness of the rates, but it remains a fact that one and all admitted, almost with gaiety, that the Mayor and Council were doing a good job. The Municipal Buildings are superb. They contain, as well as the usual range of offices, a splendid theatre that pays, and a capacious and lofty assembly hall. There is a good library with a sound collection of books and fourteen hundred subscribers. The book shops and libraries of
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
A typical suburban bungalow at Hastings.
As one traverses the main thoroughfare, or any of its parallels, there stands at the far end a clean cut hill skyline. This is “The Peak” whose thirteen hundred feet of height stand in a park of two hundred and forty acres. It is a priceless and unique treasure. Winding roads of easy incline have been cut about its sides, and trees planted by a band of enthusiasts. From it, breath-taking views fill the eye. On the far side there is a colossal limestone face, dropping sheer for six hundred feet. The blue Pacific and the whole sweep of the “Bay” can be seen. The frontal view is the mighty panorama of the Hawke's Bay plains, with Hastings in the foreground. This double-sided vision of wonderland is only a few minutes from the town; it will be visited by increasing thousands year after year.
On the return journey, Havelock North is passed. This village might have been lifted bodily from Kent or Devonshire; on its gentle downs nestle charming homes, with gracious lawns, glowing gardens, and pretty grounds. The ideal climate, the genial living conditions, the easy proximity of every kind of sport and recreation, have made Havelock North grow into a colony, largely of retired people, with a quota of Hastings folk. We stopped to look at the handsome entrance to lona, and in the trees that bordered our lane I counted a dozen tuis. We might have been a million miles from a store or petrol pump; for we seemed to be in the serene loveliness and peace of an old world forest glade. Iona is shown in our pictures. It stands in grounds of twenty-five acres and is a modern earthquake-proof building, with every device for health and comfort that scientific planning can ensure. The girls have separate rooms, there are sleeping porch sanatoria (very little used in this elysian spot), and all the facilities for the latest educational practice. I like best the School's own statement of its aims, “The School aims at preparing girls to deal with the practical affairs of life in their own homes, and as members of the social body.” It has a good record, nevertheless in scholastic attainment, and the staff contains distinguished names of England, the Continent, and our own land. The boarding fees represent a charge of no more than girl's home living expenses; but here she learns to know her world, and the final lessons of community duty and civic responsibility. Moreover, her surroundings, in this picked Arcadia, are of natural and abiding sweetness. There are other schools, too, Woodford House, and Hereworth, and these institutions, known throughout the length and breadth of New Zealand,
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
Delightful homes at Havelock North, Hastings.
I visited the newly erected canning factory of Watties Ltd. It is a fine modern industrial plant, but should be ten times the size. It turns out tinned pears, peaches and apricots which are incomparable for flavour. It is natural that this should be so. This factory stands in the dead centre of its raw material. The transport problem is negligible. The sun-drenched fruit is glowing as it goes into the cans. I am tired to death of the story that we cannot build up an export trade. I have never been able to notice that it is farther from Wellington to San
Here is an avenue of useful employment for thousands of our fellow citizens. All that is needed is logical development; the rich soil and sunny skies will do the rest.
I find myself having to close this story with many wonders still unfolded. There is the famous Hawke's Bay A. & P. Society whose magnificent grounds we show, taken from the air. The society here owns a park of compelling beauty and appointments of the “last minute” standard of efficiency. The Show itself is a Dominion event.
The beautiful Showgrounds at “Tomoana,” Hastings, as seen from the air.
Hastings ought to be happy. It has everything.
By).
Eric Bradwell
These incidents are complete in themselves, but the characters are all related.
“Hi, chief!” shouted Gill, his cumbersome form disappearing through the hotel door after the great investigator, “You haven't finished your beer!”
But Impskill Lloyd made no reply; in fact it is doubtful if he even heard, for his slight figure was already disappearing round the corner of the block.
“Must be something serious,” thought Gill to himself, and after dashing back into the hotel to finish his own and have a couple more, set out on a heavy jog trot to catch up with his employer. The latter was well ahead and Gill could see he was following his usual practice of saving time by alternately running and walking between successive pairs of lamp posts.
With a muttered oath Gill increased his speed, but even so it was some time before he caught up with the master sleuth.
“What's up, chief?” he panted, as he finally berthed alongside.
Still Imp. made no reply. He was heading back to the signal cabin at an amazing speed.
“Pretty quick case that was, chief,” panted Gill admiringly, knowing full well that flattery was the surest way of thawing the icy reserve with which Imp. was at times wont to surround himself.
The famous detective slackened his pace in astonishment.
“Was?” he echoed. “You don't mean to say you were taken in, too?”
“Not for a moment,” replied Gill quickly, lying with an easy facility born of long practice, “I never believe a thing I hear inside bars and places where they drink. All the same—” he paused doubtfully; the workings of the master mind were often a little obscure to a simple soul like himself. “It seemed to add up all right,” he said at last.
“Pshaw!” said Impskill contemptuously.
He pronounced it with the P silent, and Gillespie knew at once that speed was the chief consideration of the moment. What Lloyd really meant was “By George!” but hadn't time to say it. Sometimes he shortened it to “B'George” or “George B,” but when really pressed for time he always said “Pshaw!” just like that, but with the P silent. It meant the same thing.
By this time they had reached the signal cabin again, and Lloyd was jumping up the steps three and fiveeighths at a time.
Once inside he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
“Now we can get to business,” he said; and Gillespie, falling in with his master's mood, quickly undid the despatch case and laid out on the floor for easy access the great investigator's tools of trade: a magnifying glass, two false beards, a water pistol, a pair of handcuffs, and a conductor's baton. The baton was principally for effect, having been presented to him by the boy scout's mouth organ band some years previous. It was very rarely used, although on one occasion it had come in particularly handy in dealing with an irritating blowfly. The stains were still clearly discernible.
“You mean,” said Gill with a flash of real insight, as he polished the magnifying glass industriously, “you haven't solved it yet?”
“I have not yet,” replied Imp., “been able to give it serious consideration. That blundering policeman, and that equally incompetent doctor, had to be disposed of first. They very nearly mucked up the clues.”
“But the poison?” asked Gill, pausing a moment from combing out the false beards, “in the stomach. The doctor said so. Can't get away from that.”
“Not a grain,” said Imp. “The doctor was under auto-hypnotic-suggestive-control. I told him to find it there. He found it.”
“And the stiletto by the fence?”
“I placed it there.”
“And the rest of the story?”
“My own,” said Imp., and if he said it a trifle proudly who shall blame him.
“You're smart, chief!” said Gill admiringly, “By heck, you're smart!”
“On! Gillespie,” commanded Lloyd, “to work. We have already wasted twenty-five minutes three and threefifths seconds in disposing of village yokels, yobs, or oafs. Fortunately, as the newly-formed Murderers’ Union is bound by a forty-hour week that wastage is not so important, as the murderer, by law, is not allowed to commence laying false trails until nine
“What's the first job, chief?”
“Read aloud the twelve possible causes of death while I search for clues.”
As Gillespie fished in the despatch case for the list Lloyd rolled up his trousers to the knees and knelt down with the magnifying glass stretched out protectively at arm's length before
“P. C. Fanning, attired only in a striped towel, confronted them.”
As Gillespie's sonorous voice droned out the litany of causes Lloyd paused in his examination of a dead cockroach, and the chauffeur saw out of the corner of his eye that the master sleuth was already busy working out his famous theory of inverse ratio on the back of an old postage stamp.
“Time elapsed,” muttered Imp., the stub of his pencil flashing at lightning speed over the back of the king's head, “is seven hours. Squared, forty-nine. Four and nine are thirteen. One and three make four. Square root is two.” He looked up. “Number two. What is the second possible cause of death, Gillespie?”
“Burning, Chief,” replied his henchman.
“As I thought!” muttered Lloyd triumphantly. “The smell of smoke over the telephone was not imagined, after all.” He looked up again, and Gill could see that the steely glitter in his eye gave further proof to the old adage that all that glitters is not gold. “That is the theory we must follow. Death from burns!”
He rose to his feet and examined the body once more.
“Gill,” he said suddenly, “do you notice anything strange about the clothing?” There was an undercurrent of excitement in his voice.
The chauffeur stepped forward and examined the sartorial equipment of the dead man with interest. Much of it, particularly over the shoulders, was badly scorched. The suit, once a natty lavender shade with green checks, had lost much of its former magnificence. The shirt and vest, Gillespie could see, would have to be written off as a total loss, but the tie, that of the Matamata Borstal Old Boys, he thought he might use at a pinch. He said as much.
Impskill imparted an improvised imprecation, impulsively implying an impatient employer. “How do you keep your trousers up?” he enquired enquiringly.
Gillespie blushed. It was a delicate adjustment of nails and aerial wire, but he hesitated to reveal, even to his employer, what should remain a strictly private matter. Instead he lied manfully, with that facility of which we are aware.
“Braces,” he said, pronouncing the unaccustomed word with difficulty.
“Exactly,” retorted Impskill, and pointed to the body—or corpse—again. “Where are they?”
Gillespie looked again. It was an undoubted fact. The braces were missing.
“Blimey, chief,” he said, and scratched his head in amazement, “what do you make of that?”
“Simple,” replied Impskill. “The dead man was a crooner. That fact has been established. Not only was he a crooner, but he was a good crooner. He could, I am told, manage a doodly-laddy-da on a top G, no mean accomplishment for the best of crooners. And crooners—follow this closely, Gillespie—crooners are particularly addicted to celluloid braces. If you will refer to the New Zealand Year Book, section one hundred and twenty-eight, sub-section nineteen, paragraph five—Lloyd's card index mind produced the reference with no effort at all—you will discover that ninety-nine point seven three per cent. of New Zealand crooners wear celluloid braces. Celluloid braces will burn, and will burn with sufficient ferocity to cause death. The case is almost childish in its simplicity.”
There was a brilliance in his reasoning that even the slow-witted Gill could not fail to appreciate.
“You're smart, chief,” he said, for the second time that morning, “By heck, you're smart!”
“Granted,” replied Imp., not without justifiable pride, “granted.”
“Say, chief,” said Gillespie, imbued with a sudden thought, “what about the bloke Marris, whose cabin we're in? He might be able to tell us something.”
“There are moments, Gillespie, when I am almost proud of you. A similar thought has been agitating me for some time. Marris must be found.”
Gillespie, perplexed, began to roll the ubiquitous cigarette. “Bit of a job, Guv'nor. How about a nip first? It's a cold morning.”
Lloyd ignored the suggestion. An idea had just struck him with such force that he was still reeling under the blow.
“The second telephone call, Gillespiè!” he shouted, “has it occurred to you where it came from?”
“Of course,” replied Gill cautiously, “where else?”
“Exactly,” agreed Lloyd. “You remember the connection was switched through to the police station for the night. That was how we summoned the police constable in the first place. Therefore, any incoming calls to the
“He crooned for a while, Including a rather good yoddly-doodle-do on F sharp.
“You are,” agreed Gill, his voice quivering with uncontrolled admiration.
“Therefore, at the risk of enlisting the aid of that blundering constable again, we must return to the station.”
(Continued on p. 49.)
Written for the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” by)
James Cowan .Now and again in Maori history a woman has arisen to impress her force of character, her intellect and her high standards of conduct on the life of her people. Such a woman leads to-day the ranks of the tribes in the South Auckland country in a noble effort to restore the race to its olden plane of happiness and independence. This Waikato high chieftainess Te Puea Herangi is rightly styled Princess. That pakeha title has sometimes been misused by lesser people of the race. But Te Puea is in every sense worthy of being called Princess, for she is the great-granddaughter of Potatau to Wherowhero, the first Maori King, and her career is in keeping with her aristocratic descent. There is a beautiful Maori title, Ariki tapairu. It signifies a sacred chieftainess, a queen among the tribes. Te Puea is not only hereditary Ariki tapairu of Waikato, but is a great philanthropist, a great organiser, an inspiration and a guide to her people. There is a strain of the mystic in her, but a very practical mystic. Greatly patriotic, she is restoring the old Maori culture in many forms at her model village at Ngaruawahia. She is a tired and sick woman to-day, for she assumed burdens almost greater than she can bear, and she deserves the warm sympathy and assistance of her pakeha fellow New Zealanders in her heroic work of pure unselfishness for the industrial and social and moral uplift of her Waikato tribes.
(
Photo by courtesy of the Auckland Star.)
Te Puea Herangi.
Te Puea Herangi is the grand-daughter of King Tawhiao, the old tattooed monarch of the Waikato and the Rohepotae frontier of whom we saw a good deal in the early days on the southern border of pakeha settlement. Life was still adventurous then, when the King Country was a closed territory against the whites, and when many a sturdy rebel against the Queen's authority lived a few miles beyond our frontier farms, with the Puniu River, a kind of New Zealand Tweed, flowing between. We saw the King and six hundred men, most of them armed, come out from their long seclusion after the war, and march in peaceful if lively parade through the townships. We lived on their good lands, reft from them by conquest, and the losses of war still embittered the Maori mind, long after the return of peace. Those losses have never been made good; the old wounds remain.
We saw some years after that march of peacemaking a dramatic migration, the canoe flotilla of the Waikato tribes sweeping down the Waipa and Waikato Rivers, returning to the remnants of their ancestral lands on the Lower Waikato. Then the final scene in the old primitive regime, the great tangihanga gathering in 1894, when four thousand Maoris met on the plain of a Hundred Wailings, below Taupiri Mountain, to farewell the spirit of King Tawhiao and speed it to the Reinga.
All have gone now, all the old chiefs, Tawhiao's compeers. The new path has opened before the Maori. He is at the parting of the ways; the old overgrown and dusky, the path of ghosts. The new path leads him into the modern farming life. He is a man of the land again, trying to regain the happiness and comfort that were his before the pakeha invasion and the merciless confiscation of his best lands, the old food-gardens of the Waikato.
The old chiefs have gone, but a new leader and champion has emerged, and that is Te Puea Herangi. She came just at the hour when an organiser and a director was needed to guide and hold her tribe-folk in the ways of life. There is a strain of English blood in the first lady of Waikato. She may be described as three-quarter caste Maori. Her father, Tahuna Herangi (Searancke) is a half-caste, the son of a Mr. Searancke, who was a Government magistrate in the Waikato, and a chieftainess named Harata. Her mother was Tiahuia (“Adorn with Plumes of the Huia”), a daughter of King Tawhiao and a sister of the late Mahuta, the third King of Waikato, whom the Government appointed a member of the Legislative Council, as representing the native race.
King Koroki, the fifth of the royal house, is her near relative; he plays a quiet, dignified part as titular head of his people.
On her Maori side Te Puea can recite her genealogical descent from Hoturoa, the Polynesian sailor chief, who commanded the canoe Tainui on the voyage from Tahiti to New Zealand six centuries ago. She can recite, too, the collateral lines that link her ancestors with the Arawa and other great tribes of the island. Her great ancestress Mahina-a-Rangi, after whom her beautiful carved meeting-house at Ngaruawahia is named, is the chieftainess whose name brings many tribes to Waikato. From her the Arawa, East Coast, and King Country all trace partial descent.
In social, political, and economic organisation among her people Te Puea has exhibited the spirit of the pioneer and the progressivist. She established a kind of model village at Ngaruawahia—the historic watersmeet where the Waipa River joins the great Waikato—a beautiful and storied spot, the pre-war headquarters of the Maori Kingdom. Here, while adopting modern ideas in the direction of health and social uplift, she has revived some of the beauty of the old-time Maori life.
Here, too, she has shown herself a mother to her people, in excelsis, for the marae of Mahina-a-rangi is a place where scores of motherless have been cherished. The great-hearted Te Puea has now fifty orphans there whom she feeds and clothes. Often she does not know where the money is coming from, and she has undertaken all manner of work for her beloved kahuipani, her flock of orphans.
But Te Puea's most strenuous activity was her effort to restore her people to the farming life, following on the methods adopted so successfully by Sir Apirana Ngata on the East Coast and in the Bay of Plenty districts. Here her position as a rangatira was of value in reinforcing her natural gifts of leadership and her exceptional force of character. When Sir Apirana was Native Minister he placed great reliance on hereditary leadership and tribal organisation.
In the various tribes, teams of young Maoris with experience of work on the land and in such things as roadmaking, bridge-building and drainage were selected for the breaking-in work, under leaders who, wherever possible, were recognised rangatiras by pedigree, and who possessed the natural gifts desirable in a chief. Waikato were more backward than other tribes, because they had little usable land remaining to them after the confiscation by the Government. However, what little land was available was turned to use, Te Puea and her teams of people —women and men—handled one block after another, in order to turn them into productive farms.
An example of what has been done is seen at Kohekohe, on the Waikato River, where in two years a waste area of 400 acres was converted into good productive dairying land. Other areas in the Lower Waikato and on the Manukau Harbour were developed at small cost and turned to account as small dairy farms where scores of families could earn a living. This good work, unfortunately, has temporarily been interrupted, but Te Puea is striving with all the powers of a gallant spirit to restore the progress movement. In this back-to-the-land movement just sufficient of the old communal system is retained to blend beneficially with the new. The Maori is able to live more simply than the pakeha; he can get much of his food from the river and the sea, and work on the breaking-in of the land is being carried on more economically than similar schemes among the Europeans. Te Puea herself sets an example in this respect.
The arrangement was that the Maoris supply all labour, to the point where seed, fertilisers, fencing material,
(
From a photo about 1888.)
King Tawhiao, grandfather of Te Puen Herangi (Died 1894).
When the recent Royal Commission on Native Affairs took the evidence of leading Maoris in Wellington Te Puea was a witness. She described the work which had been her chief endeavour, and I reproduce some of her evidence here. In answer to questions Te Puea said that about the year 1920 she came to the conclusion that her people, being without land, were sinking into hopeless poverty, and so she went to work in their interest. She had assumed the guardianship of sixty orphans whose parents had died in the influenza and dysentery epidemics, and she reared them. She also had taken charge of some of the older people. In accordance with Maori tradition she conceived the idea of making Ngaruawahia the centre of culture for the Waikato people, and she described the steps she had taken to bring this about. She had organised a party of her orphans and travelled through the North Island giving concerts and native entertainments. On one tour #900 had been raised and on another #1,000. As a result of raising money in this way two meeting-houses at Ngaruawahia had been built. She had also erected a number of cottages to house the old people.
Then the chieftainess described early difficulties in breaking in land. “The people never forget,” she said, alluding to the confiscation of the Waikato. “But I tried to forget, for the sake of the children. On the new farms at Waipipi and other places I cut gorse, helped to make roads and did everything with the exception of bushfelling. I worked to encourage the others to work.”
“I want the people on the land,” she said in answer to further questions. “I want land in order to draw my people back from Chinese gardens. Maori women are living with Chinese gardeners. I had some stolen from me at Ngaruawahia. If the men cannot get a living many of them go to the Chinese. There are about 400 of my people at the Chinese gardens around Auckland, and 300 at Pukekohe. They have gone there to work because they need food and clothing. My scheme will help to bring people back to their land.”
It was shown in evidence that the Maoris most cheerfully worked on the land when they saw a prospect of earning a living from it. At Waipipi (South Manukau) actually only six men out of twenty-seven were on the pay-sheet; the others worked simply for their food; the little community lived on the wages paid to six. But they worked happily all day long; the spirit of co-operation was perfect.
“You know,” said Te Puea, “when, the people are working in co-operation, they go on with their singing and their arts and crafts as they did before the pakeha came. They sing and dance and are happy. We realise that the farming of to-day must be carried out in modern pakeha fashion, but it suits us to work together in the old way,
There is a beautiful spirit of mutual helpfulness among the Maoris, and wise administration will encourage this and utilise it in the development of the new farming effort. The trials so far have been justified by results.
Near Waiuku, where a few years ago hundreds of acres were covered with gorse and fern and infested with rabbits, the Princess and her people have founded dairy farms. These farms, fully stocked, cost only #17 per acre. In 1929, the Kohekohe block of 400 acres, on the Lower Waikato, was unproductive land. Te Puea and members of her tribe set to work, and their labours showed what could be done with organisation in a short time. In the 1930–31 season three small herds were milked on the newly-grassed land.
“Princess te Puea is a wonderful woman,” said Mr. Massey, M.P. for Franklin, in 1931. “She has a splendid influence over the natives and has proved to the rest of New Zealand what can be done in this way. The land shows that excellent work has been put into it.”
The Maoris are the only people who are doing their fair share towards the natural increase of the population. The normal birthrate of the native people far outstrips that of the European community. The latest census gives the Maori population as 81,774, an increase of 18,000 in the last ten years. Better living conditions, education in hygiene, and an improvement in economic status as the result of the land settlement schemes, are responsible, largely, for this increase. But the disquieting aspect of this otherwise greatly desirable condition of the Maori is the problem of provision for the landless Maoris whose numbers are inpreasing. There are hundreds of families who are without land they can call their own or land they can use. The tragic diminution of the Maori landed estate has a direct relation to the problem of immigration and the increase of the rural population.
Seeing that the Maoris are proving themselves better citizens than the pakeha in the matter of birthrate, that they have lived more in accordance with natural laws than the white population has, they are fairly entitled to the use of land necessary for the subsistence of themselves and their children.
When I discussed this problem with Te Puea a few weeks ago, I told her that I considered the Maori, the first settler, certainly should be considered before any assistance was given to new pakeha immigrants. New Zealand's first duty is to see that the Maoris, particularly those in Waikato, where old confiscations robbed the tribes of their homes and their farming lands, are given access to the soil that is their moral right. Their old farms and forests have gone from them, but there is other land to be obtained. Te Puea's work, and her people's work, is proof of what may be expected when the landless obtain lands and the liberal financial backing that the white settler has been able to command.
Te Puea's labours and interests are indeed many. There is no branch of Maori culture that this wonderful woman does not touch and advance. The beautiful house, named after her great foremother of centuries ago,
“Te Paki-O-Matariki,”
The decorative front door of Te Paea's carved meeting-house “Mahina-a-Rangi.” The seven stars represent the constellation of the Pleiades (Matariki), sacred in Waikato religion And legend. The name of the door means “The Halycon Influences of the Plelades.”kainga of which it is the central feature, is well designed, and simply, yet comfortably furnished with modern requirements. Cultivations of food and many fruit trees surround it. For another thing, Te Puea is reviving the canoe flotillas that were the olden pride of the Waikato, and the first of a fleet of seven waka-taua, or war canoes, is being constructed at Waingaro, in the bush near Ngaruawahta. In this fine work the Princess of Waikato should have the practical assistance of Auckland's citizens, for the province will look to Waikato to provide the leading interest in the Centennial aquatic celebrations now only three years, ahead of us.
By)
Shiela Russell
[All Rights Reserved.]
“Pumpkin And Castor Oil.”
It was the day following the trick which the seven little Field Mice played upon Johnny Black when they made him believe the scarecrow was a bad tempered old man, who would beat him if he ate tire grass seed on the new lawn.
They were very pleased with themselves, and also very fat through having eaten away all the inside of the pumpkin which had been the scarecrow's head, and as the day was warm and they spent the whole of it chasing about telling everybody how clever they were, it was not to be wondered at that as time went on they felt a little sick.
That evening the other animals of Pudding Hill gathered, as they often did when the weather was fine, to talk and walk about together on the drying green, and it was Miss Amelia, the tortoise, who noticed that the Field Mice were not there.
“I wonder what can have happened to them?” she said, “we see so much of them as a rule.”
“Too much,” said Mr. Tom, “always hiding behind stalks of grass and giggling. They get on my nerves.”
“Mine too,” said Johnny Black. Everybody laughed when he said this because they had all heard the story pf the scarecrow, and Johnny got rather red in the beak, which was the same as getting red in the face for him, and said: “On my preserves, I mean, ha! ha! ha!” But nobody laughed
“… they called him 'spikey’.”
“I expect, you know,” said Miss Amelia, “that they ate too much pumpkin when they were playing with Johnny!” (Johnny Black got very red indeed and shuffled his feet in the dust). “And now they've all got pains in their tummies.”
“Johnny got rather red In the beak.”
“Serve 'em right,” said Horace Hedgehog who didn't like the Field Mice because they called him “Spikey.”
“Oh no!” cried Miss Amelia, “poor little things; they don't mean any harm with their tricks and they did help us that time when Johnny Black was shut up in the Butcher Boy's Box,”
“That's right,” said Peter Possum, “so they did.”
“Yes, but,” said Mr. Tom, “if I hadn't made up a rhyme….”
“Dear Mr. Tom,” Miss Amelia smiled at him, “you can run so much faster than I can. Would you go over to the cottage and fetch the castor oil?”
And Mr. Tom who could never refuse Miss Amelia anything, trotted off.
Miss Amelia looked round the circle of her friends. “Does anyone,” she asked, “know where the Field Mice live?”
At this all the animals looked as though they were thinking very hard, but in reality they were not thinking so much about where the Field Mice lived, as why they should bother about the Field Mice at all. To everyone of them the Field Mice had been rude or annoying at sometime or other, and although they had got Johnny Black out of the box, they felt that if the Field Mice went and made themselves sick eating too much pumpkin, it was their own fault. At last, however, Horace Hedgehog, said rather sourly.
“They live in holes I fancy, though which holes, is more than I could say.”
“Well,” said Miss Amelia lightly, “we'll call down all the mice holes we can sec, and we're sure to find them.”
The others agreed to this and Mr. Tom having returned with the castor oil, they set off in a body to find the holes where the Field Mice lived.
Johnny Black flew round in circles overhead and kept a sharp lookout for mouse holes. He was very pleased, that he was able to do something useful like this, because he was a goodhearted fellow, and felt that as the Field Mice had rescued him from the Butcher Boy's Box, he should do something for them when they were not feeling well.
Soon enough he spied two holes not far from the end of the drying green, and whistled to Miss Amelia. She came hurrying up with the castor oil, and called down the holes to see if the Field Mice were there.
At first there was no answer, but presently the other animals who were standing round heard a faint squeak, and very slowly a Field Mouse poked his head out of the hole. And such a sad looking mouse too. Instead of being brown and sleek with bright beady eyes, he was a greenish colour, his fur stood up all on end, and he could hardly keep his eyes open.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Miss Amelia, “you do look ill. It's eating all that pumpkin that's done it. What you need is a dose of castor oil.”
The Field Mouse made a face at this and turned to go back into his hole, but Horace Hedgehog sat down in the
“Miss Amelia gave him castor oil.”
So the Field Mouse shut his eyes and opened his mouth, and Miss Amelia was just about to pour some castor oil into him when Mr. Tom said: “Just a minute. Don't you think that if we make the Field Mice well again, they ought to promise to try and behave themselves better and not be cheeky or play tricks on people.”
“Very good idea,” said Horace.
“I think,” said Johnny Black, “that we should make up a rhyme about it, so they could learn it off by heart—and then they won't forget.”
“Very good idea,” said Horace again, and all the others agreed with him, and Mr. Tom and Johnny Black whispered together for a few minutes. Then Mr. Tom came forward and said very sternly to the little Field Mouse. “Now, young man, say this after me twenty times, and then you will get your castor oil, and be quite well again to-morrow.
But the Field Mouse shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don't want to say that.”
“Alright,” answered Mr. Tom, “no nice castor oil then, and you'll have awful pains all night.”
“It beats me why some of the scientific blokes don't invent a tobacco without any nicotine in it,” he remarked to his tobacconist. “Ah!” replied the weed purveyor, “when science produces tobacco like that the pigs will begin to fly! But why worry? If there's no tobacco without nicotine in it there's tobacco with so little you hardly know it's there.” “Well, I'm blowed!” said the other chap, “What is it?” “Mean to say you've never sampled Toasted?” asked the tobacconist. “No; 'course I've heard of it. Who hasn't? But my usual's black twist.” “Plenty of ‘juice’ in that,” laughed the tobacconist, “why not give 'toasted’ a go? Lovely flavour, and talk about bouquet! Try a tin of Cut Plug No. 10, and you'll stop growling about nicotine. There's precious little in toasted. The toasting works it out.” (Tobacconist's advice taken.) The five brands of the only genuine toasted, Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead), Cavendish, Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold are not only the choicest but the least harmful of any tobacco on the market.*
And as though to prove Mr. Tom's words, the little Field Mouse suddenly did get the most awful twinge, and he clapped his paws to his middle and rolled over on the ground.
Miss Amelia hurried forward with the castor oil, but Mr. Tom stopped her.
“What did I tell you,” he said to the unhappy Field Mouse, “will you say it now.”
“Alright,” gasped the little Field Mouse, and he gabbled the rhyme over and over again until he could say it without having to be told what came next, and then Miss Amelia gave him castor oil, and he felt much better.
(
Rly. Publicity Photo.)
Interior view of the rail-car Maahunul showing the comfort provided for passengers in this latest form of rail transport.
Then the animals went on to the next hole, and the next until they had dosed all seven of the sick little Field Mice, and made them promise to be better People of Pudding Hill, in future. But whether or not they will keep their promises when they were well again, I cannot say. Probably they will be just as badly behaved as ever—field mice are like that.
New Zealand Verse
* * *
* * *
byArthur L. Stead
Some Fast Running Trains.
There are probably few more famous railway routes the world over than those running between London and Scotland, operated respectively by the London, Midland and Scottish, and London and North Eastern Companies. Speedy running has always been a feature on these tracks, and this season some exceptionally fine locomotive performances are being put up in the Anglo-Scottish services. Our old friend, the “Flying Scotsman,” again runs nonstop between King's Cross and Edinburgh; while on the L.M. and S. route out of Euston terminus, London, a noteworthy acceleration has been effected in the running of the “Mid-day Scot,” which, leaving London at 2.0 p.m. daily, now reaches Glasgow (Central) at 9.35—a cut of half-an-hour over the old timings. This saving of thirty minutes involves an overall average speed of 52.9 m.p.h., including four stops of a total duration of 19 minutes, and the ascent of two mountain summits at Shap and Beattock.
For hauling the “Mid-day Scot,” there are utilised giant 158-ton locomotives of the “Princess Royal” class. A single locomotive works through from London to Glasgow (401 1/2 miles), locomotive crews being changed at Crewe, 158 miles from Euston. Because of relatively slow running up steep gradients, over favourable portions of the route the scheduled speeds of the “Mid-day Scot” are necessarily high. Between Tring and Bletchley, for example, the 75 m.p.h. figure is touched.
Altogether, 747 passenger trains in various parts of the L.M. and S. system have been speeded up by a total of 2,016 minutes per day. The effect of these accelerations has been to bring into the table of trains running at start-to-stop speeds of over 60 m.p.h., two additional expresses, the more interesting being the “Merseyside Express,” covering the 189.7 miles between Mossley Hill, Liverpool, and Euston in 189 minutes. Since May last, the Company has had 29 trains covering a total of 2,632.2 miles per day at average start-to-stop speeds of over 60 m.p.h.
Fast train operation, and the efficient operation of terminals, depend to a marked degree upon suitable signalling installations. At Edinburgh (Waverley) station, the L. and N.E. line has recently installed the largest station power signalling plant introduced to date on this system. One of the biggest Home passenger stations, Waverley was opened forty-three years ago. It possesses fifteen bay platforms and four through platform tracks, as well as through passenger loops and carriage tracks. Under the new signalling plan, one central signal box replaces the former five boxes scattered about the station. The five old boxes contained 415 mechanical levers in all, while the new box has a 227-lever power frame. The whole of the new signalling apparatus is operated electrically, modern multi-unit colour light signals replacing the old semaphores. All points are equipped with 110 volt D.C. motors, and the complete layout track circuited, there being altogether 121 A.C. track circuits.
There are many routes available for the traveller contemplating a trip to
The new L. and N.E.R. London-Harwich Boat Train, approaching Harwich.
The Harwich route to the continent is especially useful for journeys to central and north European points. It does not attempt to compete with the Southern Railway services to and from Paris and south European centres, but provides a quick and particularly comfortable means of reaching cities like Brussels, Antwerp, Berlin, Copenhagen, Hamburg and Stockholm. Apart from the regular daily passenger sailings, there is operated between Harwich and Zeebrugge, in Belgium, an extremely efficient train-ferry for the movement of goods traffic of almost every kind, and particularly for perishables conveyed in special containers.
New Oil-engined Parcels Rail-car, Great Western Railway.
The employment of light streamlined rail-cars for passenger transport is now general throughout the world of railways, both for main and branchline working. A new move is the utilisation of the streamlined rail-car for the conveyance of parcels traffic carried at passenger train rates, an innovation of which the Great Western Railway is the pioneer.
The Paddington authorities have introduced a specially-built streamlined Diesel rail-car, built by Associated Equipment Co. Ltd., of Southall, for the movement of parcels between London, Reading and Oxford. The new car is of similar design to the sixteen passenger rail-cars in service throughout the system, and previously described in these pages. In place of the big observation windows, however, it has three glass-panelled doors on each side, to facilitate the rapid stowing and clearing of the parcels from a series of racks. The car is driven by two 130 h.p. oil engines, and is capable of speeds of up to 75 m.p.h. The service marks a new era in the conveyance of parcels by rail, and it is hoped that it will avoid delays which sometimes result to the ordinary passenger trains at stations from the loading and unloading of parcels traffic.
Road transport control by the State has now been introduced in Germany, and as a result railways and roads cease to be cut-throat competitors. The new legislation provides for all road carriers becoming members of a single road transport association, the activities of which fall under the control of the Government Ministry of Transport. Sanction of the Ministry has to be obtained for the movement by road of merchandise for distances in excess of 31 miles, and undercutting of rail conveyance rates is strictly forbidden, all road conveyance rates being subject to official approval. Long hauls by road will continue to be carried on only in such cases where it can be shown that rail conveyance is not practicable or suitable to the particular movement involved. In almost every European country, unfair competition of the road carrier is by degrees being cut out; and smoother, more efficient, and more economical transportation machinery brought into being embracing all forms of land conveyance.
One interesting feature of the growth of the motor industry is the pronounced increase in the number of new motor vehicles conveyed by rail. At Home, motor vehicle agents and manufacturers are more and more entrusting the initial transport of motor cars to the railways, who have provided specially-designed covered vans for the transport of this traffic. Some of the special motor car trucks are capable of carrying two standard type cars, and are equipped with vacuum brakes for express freight train running,
Coal Traffic Movement Over German Electrified Lines.
Rapid progress continues to be made by the German railways in the development of electrification. Germany now has nearly 1,500 miles of electrified track open to traffic, mostly on the single-phase alternating-current system, with 15 kv. at the overhead equipment, and at 16 2-3 cycles. This system is also favoured by Austria, Switzerland, Sweden and Norway, thereby encouraging through running.
Recent important German electrifications cover the Munich-AugsburgStuttgart routes, and the Stuttgart suburban routes. The Augsburg-Nurnberg line has also been converted to electricity, and this electrification is shortly to be extended, via Halle, and via Leipzig, to Berlin. The effect of this will be to afford through electric working between Munich and Berlin, and incidentally to link up with electrified lines via Innsbruck, cities as far south as Naples and Rome. In addition to passenger electrifications, large stretches of German track devoted to freight haulage have been converted to electricity, and this has enabled freight train loads and speeds to be considerably increased.
By)
Tohunga
A Christchurch correspondent has asked me to give the Maori name of the Avon stream that meanders through his city. Otakaro is the original name of the Avon, according to the old Maoris of Tuahiwi, with whom I discussed the Canterbury place nomenclature, on my visits to them from 1903 onward.
O is the place of, and takaro means games, play, sports, such as wrestling and running. It is particularly appropriate to-day, as it happens, since the Avon girdles Hagley Park. Takaro in its present form, with the prefix o is a personal name, that of some ancestor who lived in these parts. The accent is placed on the “tā.” Another Tupuna is commemorated in—
Otautahi, the name of the old ford of the Avon, where the stream flows past the Supreme Court, close to the Victoria Bridge. Tautahi was the son of Huikai, one of the warrior chiefs of the Ngai-tahu tribe about 200 years ago. Otakaro is applied to the whole course of the Avon from the mouth up to where it branches. The tributary is the Wairarapa (“glistening water”) and the sub-tributaries the Wai-maero (“deep water channel,” also “hard water”), and the Wai-utuutu (“water dipped up”).
Onepoto (“short sandy beach”) is the sand below Redcliffs, at the mouth.
Putaringa-mutu, a name which my correspondent thought might be that of the Avon at Riccarton, is the Riccarton bush, the last relic of the olden forest. It means, literally, ear-lobe cut off, or broken off by a heavy pendant. It is a figurative expression for an isolated piece of forest, a fragment of the ancient vast woods.
On this page some time ago I explained the method of the old-time Maori chief, in his explorations and land-claiming. His first procedure was to give names to the places he saw or traversed, exactly as our pakeha
The travels of Ihenga [Ee-heh-nga] are narrated in an Arawa whakapapa or genealogical history which details the manner in which scores of our familiar map-names were first given. Ihenga was the grandson of Tama-tekapua, the commander of the Arawa canoe. When the young man set out from Maketu to visit his kinsfolk in the North he began by naming the lake we know as Rotoiti:
Te Roto-iti-kite-a-Ihenga = the little lake seen by Ihenga. It must have been named previously, by early explorers, but Ihenga's title remains.
Then he named the island in Lake Rotorua Te Motu Tapu a Tinirau (the Sacred Isle of Tinirau, a name imported from Polynesia). Later it was named Mokoia by the chief Uenukukopako; but the Arawa people often use the beautiful old name from Hawaiki.
Ihenga travelled north to the Hauraki, the Kaipara and the Bay of Islands.
One place name was given not by him but by his companions, this was Kaihu. He and his party had visited the west coast to feast on toheroa shellfish. They carried some with them inland. Ihenga at one halting place ate all the remaining toheroa in the absence of his companions.
“Who has eaten all our food,” they asked when they returned.
“How should I know?” the young man replied.
“Why, there was no one here but you,” they retorted. “It must have been you.”
So they named the place Kai-hu-a-Ihenga (Ihenga's secret meal), which remains to-day to tell us that he was a greedy fellow.
Ihenga had derived priestly and magic powers from his great ancestors and his father. He exerted them to some purpose at one place. They had climbed a high waterless hill, and were parched with thirst. Ihenga recited a powerful karakia and stamped on the ground, and a spring of water immediately burst out of the ground. Down flew pigeons in flocks to drink the water, so the place was named Waikereru (“Pigeon Water”).
Farther north, the travellers climbed the hills from Motatau and named Te Ruapekapeka (“The Bats’ Cave”) from the multitude of flying bats seen there. (This was the scene of the final battle in Hone Heke's war, 1846.) The forest range of Tapuwae-haruru (“Resounding Footsteps”) was also named by him. A still stream in which Ihenga saw himself reflected was naturally called Te Wai-whakaataa-Ihenga (his “shadow-water”).
South again, he ascended a great dome of land, a symmetrical mountain covered with forest. He recited an incantation there for some reason or other, and called upon the gods of lightning and thunder. The gods responded, lightning struck the top of the mountain, and thunder crashed and rolled. Hence that mountain was called Whatitiri (“Thunder”) and that is still the name of the beautiful extinct volcanic cone.
At Whangarei the explorers collected some mussels on the beach and roasted them on a fire, and that place is hence called to this day Te Ahi-pupu-aIhenga, his “mussel cooking fire.”
Tama-te-kapua died at Moehau, which the pakeha calls Cape Colville. His children buried him on the summit of the lofty wooded range, overlooking the Hauraki Gulf and the outer ocean. It was from that fact that the mountain cape was named Moe - hau - o - Tama-te - Kapua, “The Sleeping Sacredness of Tama” (“Hau” literally means wind; here it refers to the sacred life principle or life essence, which departs with the last breath).
Kahu-mata-momoe, son of Tama-tekapua, gave that name to the mountain where his father had been laid to sleep. When he descended to the sea beach he turned his face to the mountain and chanted a lament to the sacred places above, and so the bay there was named Tangi-aro-o-Kahu. He climbed a hill and placed a stone of memory on its summit overlooking the inner gulf and named the stone Tokatea (White Rock). The name became famous in pakeha times when it covered a part of the Coromandel goldfield.
Rail-Car
Fleet
Further Successful Trials.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
the new rail-car constructed for special service between chirstchurch and greymouth.
The newest type of rail-car manufactured for the New Zealand Railways Department for use between Christchurch and Greymouth was tried out on 25th July on a trial run from Lambton to Palmerston North, and a trial was conducted on the following day of the second rail-car of the type to be used on the new service connecting Wellington, Masterton and Palmerston North.
The new Christchurch - Greymouth car, constructed at the Hutt Valley workshops, is a four-wheeled vehicle driven by a Leyland Diesel engine of 8.6 litre. It has six cylinders and a four-speed gear-box with drive on the rear axle. It has been especially constructed to meet the requirements of newspaper and passenger traffic on a night service between Christchurch and Greymouth. It carries 20 passengers and has a special compartment for the conveyance of morning newspapers from Christchurch to Greymouth under contract to land the papers at Greymouth about 7 o'clock on the morning of printing.
Though the vehicle is smaller, the build and general equipment of the Christchurch-Greymouth car are quite up to the standard set by the Maahunui, the Wairarapa type of car. A feature is the “dip” light thrown forward for convenience in drawing up to signals and in passing other trains. The outlook is thus very clear. One passenger on the trial trip described it as “like being in a glass box, with a view all round.”
A feature of the trial run was the very quiet movement of the engine which, in the course of a 200-mile trial, worked with wonderful smoothness.
The weight of the car is 7 tons 8 cwt. The engine has 48 h.p. (R.A.C. rating) and is capable of 95 horsepower at 1850 revolutions a minute.
The car is 25ft. long and has a wheelbase of 14ft. 6in. Among the attractive equipment is a folding card-table for the convenience of passengers on the night runs. The dashboard has the ordinary equipment of a motor-car including speedometer and light switches.
The performance of the car, using a special oil prepared for diesel engines, was exceptionally good, over 15 miles to the gallon being obtained for the average of the run, which included grades as steep as one in 57 at Pukerua. The car has a great reserve of power and flew up the steepest banks “like a bird.” Its maximum speed is about 50 miles an hour.
The second rail-car of the Maahunui (Wairarapa) type behaved splendidly throughout its trial run. This car, the Mahuhu (named after another of the famous early. Polynesian canoes), ran from Wellington to Palmerston North and return. Its performance was even better than that of the Maahunui, which has recently been so severely tested over all the principal lines of the North Island.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Mahuhu, second rail-car of the Wairarapa type.
Beside technical officers and mechanics, the General Manager of Railways, Mr. G. H. Mackley, invited representatives of the Railway Officers’ Institute, who were in Wellington attending their annual conference, to make the trip, and at its conclusion Mr. E. W. Barnes, president of the Institute, expressed, on behalf of his fellow officers, great appreciation of the opportunity to see in actual operation one of the fleet of rail-cars.
Mr. Barnes said that experience of the rail-car had convinced the railway representatives drawn from all parts of the Dominion that rail-cars would revolutionise the system of passenger transport upon the railways of New Zealand.
Mr. Mackley, acknowledging the thanks of the Railway Officers’ Institute, made a point of the fact that the rail-cars were designed by the Department's own staff and that the work of manufacture had been carried out entirely by New Zealanders in their own workshops at Hutt. He said it was a tribute to their designing and manufacturing skill that cars of this type had been constructed, the best in the world, he believed, for the purpose for which they had been designed.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways, and Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager of Railways, in the course of a tour of inspection by Rail-car through the North Island. (1) Turning at Auckland station; (2) verge of Waipoua Forest; (3) visitors at Auckland; (4) leaving Auckland station; (5) refreshment halt at Mercer; (6) business at Kaikohe County Council Chambers; (7) Ohakune; (8) the giant kauri, Waipoua Forest; (9) Taumarunui; (10) at Packakariki; (11) Waitakere. The Hon. Mr. Sullivan addressing school children; (12) on Papakurua turntable; (13) Piriaka; (14) Otaki; (15) Woodhill. Hon. D. G. Sullivan speaking: “Now, children, do you know what is the greatest thing in the world? It is kindness!”
ByAd.
)
Howitt.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Wellington-Auckland Daylight Limited negotiating the Raurimu Spiral, North Island, New Zealand.
It has been said that Raurimu Spiral would never have been constructed if aeroplanes had existed when the reconnaissance surveys were made. When they actually did fly over in later years a lesson in aviation was written in the spiral for them to read. In the words of James Cowan in the “Romance of the Rail,” it was “Looping the Loop at Raurimu….” “The line is run as an ascending spiral, a complete circle (which passes over itself at a higher level), and two tunnels. The fashion in which this mountain railway ties knots in itself is rather puzzling on first experience.”
If the aeroplane had then been available to take a series of aerial photographs in the approved method of to-day for plotting contours, a complete plan of every hill, gully, plain, valley, river, and stream, with their respective heights would have shown the engineers the best location for the railway lines to avoid excessive grades, and also probable costs of construction. But such information was not available.
The Public Works engineers had for years been carrying on locational and constructional work on the line, working south from the Auckland end, and north from the Wellington end.
Owing to the wild, ravine-scarred, rugged nature of the country, the work of location between Ohakune and Taumaranui was a most difficult one, with the added disadvantage for reconnaissance work of dense bush which prevented the lay of the country being seen. Instead of air-views the intrepid engineers had to climb to the unsafe, slender topmost branches of the highest trees in the hope of obtaining an extended outlook. Finally, the line was located to Waimarino, now know as National Park Station, on the south side, and to Raurimu Station on the north side. But the former station was 714 feet above the latter one, although a straight line of only 4 1/2 miles separated them. The problem was to join up the two places with a workable grade.
From National Park a comfortable descending grade of 1 in 50 was obtained for about three miles. This left the line “in the air” 434 feet above Raurimu, and only 1 1/4 miles distant from it in a straight air line. If the railway had been constructed along that line the resultant grade would have been 1 in 15. It would then have been necessary to construct the line with a centre rail similar to the Rimutaka incline in the Wairarapa or the Rewanui incline near Greymouth.
A foretaste of summer days. Watching the sports events at the Te Awamutu Railwaymen's and Carriers’ Picnic, held at Pirongia in 1935.
These “centre rail” inclines are expensive in maintenance and operation. Engines of special construction are required to grip the centre rail, hence the construction of a grade negotiable by an ordinary engine was decided upon. The length required to do that was not the 1 1/4 miles existing, but one of 4 1/4 miles. Therefore, the line had to be curved, looped and spiralled downwards under itself down the hillsides until the distance along the “squirming” face, between the two points was extended to 4 1/2 miles, which gave sufficient length for a continuance of the ruling grade of 1 in 50 all the way from National Park to Raurimu. The result was a triumph of engineering skill, and a most interesting spiral line of keen interest to travellers, particularly if they take the added pleasure on the journey of seeing as they go. The skill consists— not in making a spiral, but in making it by taking captive the configuration of the surrounding hillsides and employing them so that the spiral is constructed with a minimum of embankment, cutting and tunnel, yet providing
In less technical language—just make the spiral fit the country with the least expenditure of “cloth,” yet providing a good fit.
It is all very well for amateur engineers—and their name is legion—with the bush removed, and the country lying before them like an open book, to say that the spiral would never have been constructed if there had been aeroplanes in existence in those days, but I have heard engineers of standing and experience who, after looking to-day at that open book, agree that little deviation to advantage could be made in the line as located and constructed by those hardy engineers and explorers who, through almost insuperable difficulties, overcame great natural obstacles—the forest, ever seeking to conceal, the hills barring the way with their might of inertia, the deep ravines commanding “thus far shalt thou come but no farther.”
The uncanny accuracy of the work of those old-time engineers when choosing the location they did for the line, would almost lead one to think that they possessed some power equal to that of the eye of the air-camera when looking down upon the jumble of mountain and hill, and the wonderful riot of forest, tortuous ravines, and winding rivers.
New Zealand's famous Raurimu Spiral. Raurimu station is seven miles north of National Park station, on the North Island Main Trunk Line.
(
Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Rail-Car Maahunui, at Frankton Junction. (The Auckland-Rotorua Express in the background.)
The work accomplished by the surveyors and engineers before the line could be constructed was the exploration of a wide and long field of rough country to discover its configuration, the secret of which the dense bush sought jealously to hide from them. The eye of the air-camera could have swiftly revealed that secret, but the surveyors actually had to solve the problem by wearying tramps through the bush aided by the axe and the slasher until ultimately the opposition of hostile nature was overcome and the best location for the line determined.
These engineers and surveyors had blazed the trail for a line which will ever remain as a monument to their ability, sound judgment, skill, and unremitting endeavour.
A young woman who boarded the north express at Dunedin without realising that she had left her handbag in a telephone booth on the station was no less surprised than delighted to have her property returned to her at Waitati, states the Christchurch “Press.” The train had already left Dunedin when the bag was found, and it was promptly handed to the stationmaster, who, on investigation, discovered that it contained rail and steamer tickets. He immediately took steps to have the express stopped at Waitati, and no less hastily dispatched one of his staff in a taxi in pursuit of the owner. Train and taxi met according to plan at Waitati, and a worried young woman, now aware of the lengths to which the Railways Department is prepared to go in the service of its passengers, gratefully accepted her bag. The department has assumed responsibility for the payment of the taxi until the young woman can return and meet the expense incurred.
Written and Illustrated by)
J. D. Pascoe , F.R.G.S.
The Christchurch-Greymouth Express on the Kowai Bridge, near Springfield.
The Midland railway line, which connects the provinces of Canterbury and Westland, provides cheap and convenient transport to the ranges and has given a tremendous impetus to the growth of the sport of mountain climbing in the South Island. The Canterbury Mountaineering Club members who have been able to make Arthur's Pass their training ground for the sterner work in the Rakaia, Rangitata, Godley and Hermitage regions, owe much to the trains which run on this line and to the co-operation of the Railways Department.
The alpine views obtainable during a journey in the train from Christchurch to Greymouth are enough to stir the enthusiasm of any lover of the mountains. At Springfield the gaunt outlines of the Torlesse Range give promise that the plains have ended in the foothills. From Cass, the rugged peaks of Mts. Bowers and Wilson, of the Polar Range, remind the traveller of Antarctic endeavour. Nearer at hand the Dome dominates bush and gorge with its rocky escarpments. As the train roars across the Waimakariri bridge a sight of the topmost crests of Mts. Murchison and Greenlaw is obtained.
From near the Bealey Quarry siding, Mts. Harper and Davie are silhouetted in the wild Waimakariri horizon. From the Bealey valley itself there stands aloof the peak of Mt. Oates of the Mingha headwaters, and the upthrust battlements of Mt. Williams are seen to guard the lower gorge of the Edwards stream. At Otira the beautiful Westland bush sheathes the lower slopes of snowy Mt. Philistine, and further down the Otira valley, Mt. Alexander holds pride of place across the Teramakau River. Beyond Lake Brunner the train leaves the jumbled area of the Alps to speed towards the sea.
Members of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club have made many new routes and some first ascents, with the aid of railway transport, and Railwaymen themselves—Messrs. A. C. Snowden, W. D. Frazer, A. S. Ahnfeldt and W. Graham—have done much climbing in the Arthur's Pass region. Officials of the New Zealand Railways have also assisted mountaineering by stopping trains at the Bealey Quarry siding, for which many have been grateful; in particular, climbers going to and from objectives in the Waimakariri, Mingha and Edwards valleys. Ascents of the well known Mts. Rolleston, Phipps, Temple, Barron, and Philistine have been made between West Coast excursion trains (5 a.m. to 8 p.m.), while on one day trips (11.30 to 4.30 p.m.) Mts. Avalanche, O'Malley, Aicken, Cassidy and Blimit have fallen “between trains” to fit parties.
It is interesting to speculate on the lines of railway route other than the existing Arthur's Pass trail.
Mt. Evans, from the Whitcombe Valley.
It is not so well known that in 1880 a route was proposed that would entail a traverse of the Waimakariri and Taipo valleys with a tunnel through Campbell Pass. Reference to the recent handbook on Arthur's Pass history by Mr. R. S. Odell will make available this, and many other historical details. If the Taipo railway scheme had eventuated Mts. Campbell, Harper, Carrington and Armstrong would have become favourite ascents for week-end excursions
The wide Wilberfore valley leading to Browning's Pass seems peculiarly suitable for a railway gradient, but the gorge problems in the Westland Arahura valley “over the hill” are obvious to trampers doing the Three Pass trip from the Bealey to Hokitika.
Arthur's Pass as seen from the slopes of Avalanche Peak.
The Rakaia River, giving access to the Whitcombe Pass, is fed by two great valley glaciers. The Whitcombe River in Westland cleaves its bouldered way through many gorges. A railroad in this terrain of high alps and sombre jungle would have given spectacular glimpses of grand scenery, but the price would have wrecked a hundred Midland Railway Companies and crippled the resources of a parent Government. However, the Midland Railway line opens up the magnificent Arthur's Pass-Otira training ground—ever increasing in popularity amongst mountaineers and railway excursionists.
Yet another London doctor has been telling the world that the broken mouthpiece of a pipe with its jagged edge may cause cancer. Well, if that's true—and it's likely enough—there must be a lot of smokers who are running a silly risk, because pipes with broken mouthpieces are as common as wet days. But smokers are notoriously careless. Look how many of them will smoke tobacco of such inferior quality that it may—and often does—affect nerves, heart or throat the smoker never suspecting the cause of the trouble until it is diagnosed by his doctor. Why not be on the safe side and smoke “toasted”? Prevention is better than cure. You can't possibly get better tobacco—or so good. For flavour and bouquet it challenges the world, and is not only the choicest but the least harmful because its nicotine is largely eliminated by toasting. The only genuine toasted brands, Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead), Cavendish, Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold are everywhere on sale. Don't accept substitutes.*
Written and Illustrated by)
J. D. Pascoe , F.R.G.S.
Mt. Barron, Otira. (A tonnel monument is erected on the summit of this peak.)
By
Taingiwai.)The second of the railway fliers, the new motor railcars placed on the North Island lines, has been named the Mahuhu, after one of the ancient Polynesian canoes which came to New Zealand. The name is not nearly so well-known as the Tainui, Arawa and Aotea, and their contemporary immigrant crafts from the Eastern Pacific Islands, but the canoe's history is no less interesting than that of the celebrated vessels of “The Fleet.” The Mahuhu brought some of the remote ancestors of the North Auckland tribes, and its story is preserved by their descendants, particularly the elders of the Kaipara.
The tradition is that the Mahuhu came to these shores from the tropic isles of the North quite seven centuries ago, or in the first part of the 13th century. That period was four generations after the time of the renowned Maori ancestor Toi-kai-rakau, and about a century before the Arawa, Tainui and others of their time sailed from Hawaiki. This computation of time is based on the average value of time accredited to a Maori generation, i.e., 25 years. There are 28 generations on the direct lines of pedigree, from the Mahuhu's coming to the present day.
The Mahuhu is generally referred to by the Maoris as the canoe of the Ngati-Whatua tribe of Kaipara and Orakei and the canoe whereby they arrived from Polynesia. But actually that tribe has not occupied all the Kaipara for more than two centuries; it is a tribe of very mixed lineage, having Mahuhu as only one of its sources.
The canoe came originally from the North, from the island called WaeRota.
také (cause) of that coming was a quarrel between two brothers, Rongo-mai and Rongo-atu. That trouble was over a cultivation, also family occupation areas and boundaries and ceremonies concerning the cultivation. Rongomai, the elder brother, therefore decided to search for another country, so he built and fitted out a canoe which was called Mahuhu because of the cultivation ceremonies (whakamahuhu) being the cause of contention and migration.
On his departure Rongomai called out to his younger brother (teina) thus: “E noho! Ko to taua maara he tuakana mou! (Remain here. Let our cultivation be an elder brother for you.”) The younger's retort was, “Haere! E taku tuakana kumara! Ou kumara he teina mou!” (Depart, my elder kumara brother! May the kumara be a younger brother for thee!”) Rongo-atu meant that his tuakana so valued his maara (the kumara grounds) that he made them a cause of quarrel—even to the length of leaving his home and relatives. This term “tuakana kumara” has become a whaka-tauki (proverbial saying) applied to a selfish person, especially an elder brother who places his personal desires before those of his younger relatives.
From the home island of Waerota, the Mahuhu sailed (eastward apparently) to Wae-roti—and thence to Mata-te-ra (which is supposed to be at or near Tahiti). There Rongomai heard accounts of this country, Aotea-roa (or Nuku-roa, the “Long Land”), therefore he sailed for it. He brought with him seed of the hue (calebash marrow) and tubers of the uwhi, the hoia (a taro) and several varieties of the kumara—and also plants of the auté (or cloth bark) and the edible ti (the sweet cordyline).
Mahuhu made the coast of New Zealand at Takou (near the North Cape). There the crew found the people of Kui very numerous. They sailed on to Whangaroa and Whangaruru, thence to Ohiwa and then on to Waiapu (East Cape). All these places were populated by the tribes called Tini-o-Toi. At each place, one or more of the crew remained to marry and settle among the tangatawahenua (people of the land).
From the East Cape the canoe returned northward to Takou and Parengarenga, where others of the crew settled. Rongomai then went round to the West Coast and sailed down past Hokianga to Taporapora, a large sandy island which then existed inside the Kaipara Heads.
At this low flat island Taporapora (the name suggests a naming after romantic Porapora, in the Society Islands) Rongomai made his home and took a wife from the people of the place. Then he went to live at Manukapua and at Okahukura.
One day he went out fishing in his canoe. It was capsized when crossing the Taporapora Channel opposite the heads, and he was drowned. His death was attributed by his relatives to spells of witchcraft cast on him by his brothers-in-law, who lived on Taporapora. In revenge, the sons of Rongomai, who left for the North, raised a great gale, by their wizardly arts. This storm, with its huge seas, overwhelmed the sandy island Taporapora. It was compeletely destroyed and washed away, and all the people living on it perished. Only shoals and sandbanks now remain.
The Queen'S Earings.
(continued).
The Queen's Earrings may be found to-day within half a mile of the spot where deeptoned whistles chime, and express trains sweeping up the valley momentarily light with the glare of their head-lamps, the white painted cattle stops on the road to Te Marae.
The jewels, once worn by Mary Stuart, were presented by her to Malcolm Lenzie, Laird of Glenmayne Priory in Renfrewshire, who aided herescape to England after the disastrous battle of Langside in 1568. They remained at Glenmayne until 1857 when Ardoch Lenzie, finding himself on the death of his father dispossessed of the house and estate by a moneylender named McWhin, resolved, at the suggestion of his wife Catherine to seek new lands and fortune in New Zealand.
So it came about when the ship “Druimuachdar” sailed from the Clyde in October, 1857, she carried as passengers, Ardoch and Catherine and an old woman, Mrs. McBride, who had been Catherine's nurse, and whose devotion was so great that nothing could prevent her from following her mistress to live “heels ower gowdie” amongst heathen savages at the bottom of the world.
They brought with them several bulky cases containing household effects of no very great value, and one small package that represented a modest fortune in the shape of the Queen's Earrings.
The knowledge that these jewels were aboard had come to the ears of a certain undesirable waterfront character whose partner in crime was Mr. Holloway, a seafaring man whom chance had made at the eleventh hour mate of the “Druimuachdar.”
However, the jewels were apparently safe enough, since the ship was commanded by Captain Charles Barcle, Catherine's brother, and all went well, until, within a week's fair sailing of the New Zealand coast, the ship was struck by a cyclonic storm and Captain Barcle swept overboard.
Viii.
Mr. Holloway, as far as the ship's company were concerned, had always proved himself to be a man of action. It was doubly surprising, therefore, that for some minutes after Captain Barcle had disappeared, he did nothing. It was the second mate, Mr. Green, who raised the cry “man overboard,” tore a life-belt from its lashings and climbed to a precarious foothold on the broken rail, and in the brief space of time that he took to do these things, Mr. Holloway remained motionless, apparently unseeing and uncaring. In truth he was as oblivious of the actualities of his surroundings as a man still in possession of his senses may be. The broken rail, the tangle of gear that overlay it, even the heaving turmoil beyond, presented themselves to his mind's eye as an open door and the high road to fortune.
His mouth set in a grimly sardonic twist as, rousing from his reverie, he shook himself like a dog to rid his oilskins of the water that still drenched them, and bawled for all hands to lay aft and cut away the spars that threatened with every plunge of the ship to knock a hole in her side. Then he crossed the reeling deck to where Mr. Green still scanned the wastes, “Come along now, Mister,” he said sharply, “no man could swim in that even if alive when he went over. Look lively and get this mess cleared away and a tarpaulin over what's left of the skylight.” And as though to vindicate his momentary lapse, he burst into a sudden frenzy of activity, bellowing orders, cursing the alert, threatening the laggards with his fists, driving the men in true Yankee fashion until not even the most stupid of them could doubt that easy times aboard the “Druimuachdar were over.
Before the task of clearing the wreckage was half done, the wind came roaring down again, this time from the south-west, and Mr. Holloway putting the ship before it, let her run. For three days the gale held and at the slightest sign of abatement he set more sail until the old ship groaned and shuddered with the stress, and clove a path of white as broad as a boulevard from her blunt bows.
Down in the cabin the delirious mind of Catherine Lenzie heard the laboured sounds of the ship—sounds that were like long drawn tremulous sighs and quick gasps of pain, and standing aside seemed to watch another woman's agony.
The morning of the third day the sun shone clear and the new heir was born to the Lenzie fortunes.
* * *
“You're a rum looking cove ain't yer?” said Mr. Holloway thickly. He leered at the reflection in the mirror screwed to the forward bulkhead of Captain Barcle's cabin, and raised a glass to it. But 'eres to you old cock. Rum lookin’ or not, the girls won't mind yer ugly mug when they see all them lovely golden sovereigns.”
He struck an attitude, “Waitah,” he simpered, “another bottle of champagne wine.” The door of the cabin was pushed open and the reflected image of Ardoch Lenzie obtruded itself into the mirror.
Mr. Holloway glowered round at the intruder, “Customary to knock,” he growled.
“I did knock,” Ardoch replied pleasantly, I thought I heard you speaking to someone.”
“Mr. Holloway grunted, “Well,” he said ungraciously, “what can I do for you?”
“Mr. Green tells me we shall make Wellington heads the day after tomorrow.”
“Mr. Green tells you a damn sight too much,” Mr. Holloway began—and then quickly changed his tone. “I beg pardon, Mr. Lenzie, I'm sure,” he fawned, “but I'm fair knocked out—this last week has been a treat I can tell you. What with poor Captain Barcle goin’ over the side and your poor wife took ill an’ all. How's the little feller comin’ along?”
“As well as can be expected, thank you,” Ardoch replied shortly, “but—”
“Ah—that's good that's capital, mother and child both doing well—I must pay them a visit, Mr. Lenzie.”
“Mr. Holloway,” Ardoch interrupted him, “when this ship left the Clyde—
“He leered at the reflection a the mirror… and raised a glass to it.”
“Package containing jewels known as Queen's Earrings—” he read aloud —“fire opals—pendants—property of Ardoch Lenzie, Esquire, Glenmayne. Hm! I wonder where he put 'em?
“You know, Mr. Lenzie,” he continued after a pause in which he searched the other's face intently, “Captain Barcle,” he bowed his head reverently, “was a most unmesh—unmeth—what I mean is he had his own way of doing things—You wouldn't believe the trouble I've had sorting out papers and such, why—”
“I should imagine they would be in the strong-box,” Ardoch broke in.
“Ah!” Mr. Holloway's eyes narrowed, “valuable were they?” he motioned Ardoch to a seat. Won't you take a drink, Mr. Lenzie? No? Well, I'll just have a taste myself, I've a touch of the fever I guess. Now, about these jewels. I've been through the strong-box and I don't think I remember seeing them. He bent down and hauled a heavy steel dispatch box from the locker beneath the bunk. He fumbled some moments with the lock and then throwing back the lid displayed its contents—several bundles of papers and a number of little leather bags containing the ship's money.
“There you are, Mr. Lenzie,” he betrayed a hint of triumph in his tone, “That's how I found it when I took command. I've done nothing except check the cash and made an entry in Captain Barcle's private log—here it is.” He appeared to be about to read from a small calf-bound volume when Ardoch held up his hand.
“Mr. Holloway I was with Captain Barcle the first night aboard when he put the jewels in that box. They were in a leather wallet; he wrapped the wallet in sailcloth and sealed it with wax, how could it possibly be missing now?”
Mr. Holloway shrugged, “Perhaps he had it on him when he was drowned.”
“Fiddlesticks!” snapped Ardoch.
“Ho, fiddlesticks, is it?” Mr. Holloway's face flamed red, “Just you take a reef in that talk, mister. I'm the master of this ship and I'm not taking no slack from no one. How should I know where your blasted jewels are? Didn't I tell you Captain Barcle had his own way of doing things? Ain't I had my hands full enough this last week navigatin’ the ship with a greenhorn mate and a crew of sojers, without having to bother me head with packets of sailcloth with sealin’ wax on 'em?”
Ardoch stood up, his face set, his fists clenched into white kunckles.
“Mr. Holloway,” he said quietly, “or Captain Holloway, if you prefer it, the jewels are somewhere aboard this ship and you are responsible for them. I demand that you conduct a thorough search both of the crew and the ship itself, and I warn you that if nothing is forthcoming by the time we reach port, I'll hand you over to the police!”
He snatched the receipt from Mr. Holloway's fingers and marched out slamming the cabin door behind him. Mr. Holloway settled himself back on the bunk with a complaisant chuckle.
* * *
Pinned to the capacious bosom of her dress Mrs. McBride wore a watch about the size and shape of a pigeon's egg. With unerring instinct she consulted this ungainly timepiece at five minutes before each hour, and thereafter awaited with growing impatience and darkening brow the arrival of the steward with beef tea, for Catherine was very weak, and but for her old nurse's unflagging attention must surely have died. Throughout the storm she had never left her side and even now though events were on the mend she had mounted guard over the cabin, granting admittance to no one except Ardoch, for fear that the news of Captain Barcle's death should prove too much of a shock for his sister's ears.
Constant supplies of nourishing food were needed and to this end she had dragooned the galley and the pantry of the “Druimuachdar” into a state of order and punctuality which, while it by no means measured up to her requirements, represented a big advance on the chaos which had reigned in those departments three days ago when the cabin was awash and the cook clung perched upon the long boat skids and watched his pots and pans go voyaging about the main deck. There were, however, in spite of all her efforts, backslidings, and taking a final look at her helpless charges, Mrs. McBride tiptoed from the cabin, and locked the door quietly behind her. She entered the main cabin at the same time that Ardoch emerged with a violent slam from the Captain's cabin aft, and advanced grimly to meet him.
D'ye think,” she demanded, “that what wi’ the trampin’ and duntin’ aboot overhead and yon loon o’ a steward smashin’ crockery by the ton that there's no’ enough noise on this ship a'ready?”
“The jewels have disappeared,” Ardoch began.
“Whisht—not so loud—” the old woman seated herself at the long cabin table and beckoned Ardoch to do likewise. “Now,” she said, “what's to do?”
Briefly Ardoch told her what had transpired in his interview with Mr. Holloway.
“Mphm!” Mrs. McBride nodded sagely, “there's nae doot in ma mind that yon felly has them, but dinna fash yerself, Lenzie—and above a’ dinna be rantin’ aboot the place wi’ yer slammin’ doors and flytin’, ye canna help yerself until we get to land. Forbye,” she added in warning, “there's no jewel i’ the world will buy back youre wife and wean would ye go dinning the news to her the way she is.”
“…she opened her palm and displayed to Ardoch's astonished gaze—the Queen's Earrings.”
(
Thelma R. Kent, Photo.)
The Christchurch—Arthur's Pass Excursion Train, at Springfield Station, South Island.
Ardoch went up on deck to cool his head and Mrs. McBride to the galley for the tardy jug of beef tea. For once she did not scold the cook when she got there, neither did she stop on the way back to ask the steward why he had not brought the drink at the proper time; for her shrewd old head was full of this latest trouble and a plan to circumvent it.
* * *
From the balcony of a weatherboard building which, since the great earthquake of three years before, had done duty as a hotel, Ardoch looked out over the town of Wellington. The sun had dipped behind the hills and here and there along the curving waterfront road to Clay Point, lights were beginning to wink from the windows of stores and dwelling houses. A fiddle was squeaking down among the watermen's huts, and on the beach by Te Aro pa a fire throbbed like a jewel and sent a blood red streak of light dancing across the water to where the “Druimuachdar” lay at anchor. As Ardoch turned his eyes toward the ship her ensign, which had hung at halfmast all day, came down jerkily, hand over hand, and he read in it a sad and fateful gesture to mark the beginning of a new life!
Early that morning the ship had entered the heads and aided by light southerly airs made leisurely progress up the harbour. Ardoch watching the slow march of bush-clad hills, hearing the monotonous cry of the leadsman and the low spoken commands of the pilot at his back, felt bitter regret rise within him that he should ever have been persuaded to undertake this journey. Here were all the things that Charles had written about, and later enlarged upon at idle moments with Catherine. The hills and the bush, the bright flashing water, and the occasional white-painted houses along the foreshore; all the promise of freedom and adventurous life were here; and yet he felt that he could never be settled or at ease in these surroundings, for they would constantly revive the thought that there was lost to him that which by tradition and bequest was his birthright.
He was very near to defeat and his sense of frustration had deepened to
“There you are, Mr. Lenzie,” he had remarked afterwards. “I've searched the ship for you, I can't do more, can I? The jewels is gone—over the side like I said—”
“I still propose to carry out my threat,” Ardoch had replied stubbornly, “and hand you over to the authorities.”
Mr. Holloway frowned, “What good can that do, Mr. Lenzie?” he asked. “Take my tip and let the whole thing drop. T'aint like the old dart where you're goin’, you know. People out here is rough and ready, they ain't got too much time to bother with fal de lals, and if you land makin a fuss over something you can't prove, why, you'll get yourself in bad from the start.”
And indeed, when the ship had at last come to anchor and a boat-load of cheery pirates who styled themselves port authorities had come aboard, there did seem to be some truth in what the mate had said. Ardoch had been invited into the Captain's cabin to state his case, but beyond that the sympathy shown him was only lukewarm. The men seemed inclined to regard the whole affair as rather trivial, and to attach more importance to
Presently they all trooped out on deck and over the side on a swaying rope-ladder and then the ship was fairly besieged by watermen's craft of all kinds, so that it was as much as Ardoch and Mrs. McBride could do to get Catherine and her five-day-old son safely ashore before sundown.
At the thought of his wife, Ardoch turned abruptly from the balcony, reproving himself for his selfishness, and made his way to the room which he had engaged for their night's lodging. Catherine was in bed and smiled a wan greeting. But soon enough she turned her eyes, very big and dark in the candlelight, to follow every movement of Mrs. McBride's capable hands as she lifted the infant from his temporary resting place in the bottom drawer, of the chest of drawers and proceeded to undress him.
“Eh, then,” the old woman murmured soothingly, “it's enough to make a body greet. What wi’ the heat and the smells, and a’ the leery faces spierin’ at him—and there's another o’ they things bummling aboot.” She paused, unable to do more at the moment than glare balefully while a houhou, come down from the bush, and drunk with the candle light, did its best to brain itself against the walls of the room.
“Juist you wait ma mannie till I'm done wi’ the bairn.”
But when the youngest Lenzie was at length undressed and lying comfortably in the crook of his mother's arm, it was not to the hou-hou that the old woman turned her attention. Instead, she lifted the baby's cloak and taking a pair of scissors, made an incision in the lining.
Something glinted in the candlelight, something over which she hurriedly closed her fingers, and crossing to the window, drew the curtain before she opened her palm and displayed to Ardoch's astonished gaze—the Queen's Earrings.
(To Be Coninued.)
The Thirteenth Clue.
(Continued From P. 15.)
Gillespie thoughtfully packed the despatch case again, taking care, however, to leave out the two false beards. Finally he gave voice to a minor point that had been troubling him.
“But how did the braces get alight?” he asked.
Impskill Lloyd reached for his jacket, and as he did so a small object in the centre of the floor caught his eye. He stooped to pick it up.
“A cigarette lighter!” he cried, his keen eyes at once recognising the article.
Picking it up with a pair of sugartongs he carried specially for the purpose, he examined it under the light. An engraved inscription became apparent. “To Horsey,” it read, from his racecourse pals.”
Into Impskill Lloyd's eyes had crept a steely look that boded ill for any wrong-doer.
“As I thought,” he muttered between clenched teeth, reconstructing the crime in a flash, “the criminal, under the guise of offering a light, set fire to the man's braces. This is murder, Gillespie!
“Aren't we all,” replied Gill absentmindedly, as he fitted one of the beards on to his master's face. Then hastily donning the other himself he turned and followed his master out of the signal cabin.
Soon they were back at the police station, but it was some time before they could gain admittance, for P. C. Fanning, the sole occupant, had retired to a hot bath to stave off the threatened attack of pneumonia.
Impskill Lloyd hammered on the door with one hand, tugging savagely at his false beard with the other.
“Open! he cried, in the name of the Law.”
After a pause bolts were drawn and P. C. Fanning, attired only in a striped towel, confronted them.
“What do you think you're a-doing of?” he enquired, not recognising the pair in their cunning disguise.
With a quick movement Imp. whipped off his beard, and waving it aloft shouted in a sibilant whisper, “Let us in!”
P. C. Fanning drew back in astonishment, and Lloyd and Gillespie took this opportunity of squeezing through the door.
“Has anyone been here?” asked the detective, “did you hear any suspicious noises while you were out? Any finger prints on the telephone? Any suspicious characters loitering with intent? Any relevant circumstances which lead you to suppose that anything irrelevant has occurred?”
P. C. Fanning was a slow thinker. It took him some time to absorb all of Lloyd's remarks.
“It's a funny thing, Sir,” he said at last, “but when I got back from the investigation, as it were, which was a matter of half an hour ago, I found there that Marris fellow in the office, sitting by the telephone and jabbering away something dreadful to himself. I put 'im in the lock up.”
“Ah!” said Lloyd triumphantly, “as I thought. I will question him. You, my man,” he commanded, “get back to your bath, if you value your life. But first hand me the keys of the lock up.”
(
T. R. Kent, Photo.)
Winter sunshine on the frozen waters of Red Lake, Mt. Cook, South Island, New Zealand.
Pinned to the towel that draped the constable's middle was a large bunch of keys. Selecting the largest, he handed it to the detective.
“I'll be getting back to my bath, Sir, it's a bit chilly down here,” and without further ado the constable waddled off quickly in the direction of the domestic quarters.
“Follow me,” said Lloyd to Gillespie, “and unpack the pistol. He may be desperate. We must take no chances. Remember this is murder.”
Quickly Gillespie undid the despatch case and took out the water pistol, gingerly loading it from a nearby vase.
“Ready?” said Lloyd.
“Till death do us part,” responded Gill nobly.
Side by side they tip-toed in single file down the corridor, and paused at a heavy door. Placing the key in the lock Impskill turned it and threw open the door.
“Come out,” he thundered, and his voice was terrible to hear.
“Stand back, chief,” implored Gillespie, “if there is danger let me face it with you.” Brave words, but the hand at that moment rolling a cigarette trembled nevertheless.
There was a shuffling noise from inside the cell, and a moment later a figure appeared at the door. It was that of a stockily-built man of more than medium height, middle aged, and of a nondescript appearance.
“Name of Marris?” enquired Imp., wasting no time on formalities.
“That's me,” replied the other, “Percy F. Marris.”
“Step this way,” commanded Lloyd, “and remember my man has you covered.”
But Marris offered no resistance, and followed them quietly into the office, where Lloyd commenced his questioning.
“What were your movements on the night of the 18th?”
The relentless voice of the great detective caused the man considerable concern.
“I didn't do it. Whatever it is, I didn't do it!”
Suddenly Lloyd stood up, and pointed a menacing finger at the frightened man.
“What do you know,” he said, “concerning the death of one Pat Lauder, Matamata's foremost crooner?”
The other slumped back in his chair, and moaned in a low tone. “I'll tell you everything,” he said, I didn't do it. Honest to God I didn't.
“Speak!” commanded Lloyd.
“I was on duty last night as usual in the signal cabin when about half past nine the telephone rang. It was a racing man to whom I owed a considerable sum of money.
“His name?” interrupted Lloyd.
“Stuart. Horsey Stuart.”
“Proceed.”
“He was very threatening. Said he was coming over and if I didn't pay up he'd do for me.” Marris shuddered at the recollection.
“And did you, or did he?” enquired the detective.
“Did he what?”
“Did you pay up, or did he do for you?” repeated Lloyd, with the patience of a teacher instructing a backward child.
“Neither. You see, Pat Lauder dropped in for a practice.”
“Practice? You mean he practised doing for you? Be explicit, my man,” warned the detective with some acerbity.
“No. He dropped in for a bit of crooning practice. He was sailing for Buenos Aires next week for the international Crooners Conference, and wanted to keep in form.”
(Continued on p. 49.)
Hotels
A Raliable Travellers’ Guide
The Thirteenth Clue
(Continued on p. 49.)
“Did he wear celluloid braces?” asked the great investigator suddenly.
Marris looked up in surprise. “Oh, yes. He never went anywhere without them. Except the time they were on exhibit at the local A.P.A. show.”
“Continue. What happened when Lauder dropped in?”
“He crooned for a while, including a rather good yoddly-doddle-do on F sharp, and then said I seemed not to be enjoying it as much as usual, so I told him the trouble I was in with Horsey.”
“How did he react to that?”
“Oh, Pat was very upset. He suggested I should clear out and he would do his best to get rid of Horsey when he arrived.”
And you agreed?”
“Yes.”
“As I thought,” murmured Lloyd. He turned to his assistant. “Gillespie, institute a few enquiries around the city concerning the whereabouts, habits and associations of one Horsey Stuart.” The detective took out his watch. Report back to me in six minutes three seconds. By that time I shall be ready.”
The chauffeur's rubicund face lighted up with delighted anticipation, and he rose with alacrity. The commission would afford him the opportunity of visiting the hotel in the course of pursuing his enquiries.
As the door closed behind Gillespie, Lloyd turned again to Marris, his quick eyes darting over the other's face, not only hither and thither but to and fro and vice versa also. Lloyd never missed anything, and his keenness was often rewarded by discovering things that were not actually there.
Was that a flicker of a smile that crossed the face of this man Marris? Had he been too hasty in dismissing his assistant and remaining alone with what might turn out to be Matamata's Public Enemy Number One? Lloyd wondered, toying significantly with his magnifying glass as he did so.
“Proceed,” he said steadily, his voice betraying nothing of the turbulent doubts within him.
“I had a stroll round for a while and then returned to the signal cabin. As I approached I heard Pat's well-known tremulo. He was apparently trying out a new number entitled, as far as I could gather, ‘I'm aflame with Love.’ I was about to mount the steps when a second shadow crossed the blind, and I realised Horsey was within.” The man's voice faltered as he lived again the terrible suspense of that moment.
“And then?” came the detective's inexorable prompt.
“I turned and ran, not returning for several hours. When at last I crept back the cabin was dark and deserted, the only light coming from two hundred candle power lamps immediately opposite. The door was open and I crept in, switching on the light as I did so. And there, in front of me, lay the body of my old friend and companion Pat Lauder.”
Marris's voice was quivering with emotion, and Imp. by this time was convinced he was telling the truth, the only thing he doubted being the veracity of the man's statement.
“How was the body lying?” he asked, certain in his own mind that someone must be lying.
“Down,” replied Marris in a hushed voice.
“I knew it,” said Lloyd gleefully, pleased that the evidence was dovetailing so neatly. “What did you do?”
“Realising the terrible position in which I was placed I decided to call you, knowing that you, and you alone, could extricate me from the suspicion which would surely fall on me.”
“The wisest course,” remarked Lloyd, pleased at the man's intelligence.
“Knowing there were no trains until the following Thursday week I left the cabin and spent a sleepless night in the open, creeping into the police station here just as dawn was breaking. But my nerves were jarred with the terrible ordeal through which I had passed, and not being able to stand the loneliness any longer I lifted the receiver of the telephone and called for help.”
At that moment the outer door swung open and the portly form of Gillespie the chauffeur swayed, rather than strode, into their presence.
“Hello,” he said, and there was a thickness about his speech which the detective recognised immediately.
Pausing only to relate one of his experiences, Lloyd rose and confronted his assistant.
“Gillespie”, he thundered, you have been drinking!”
Gillespie beamed stupidly.
“And what a drink,” he said.
For a moment the great investigator was at a loss. Precious moments were slipping by, and the whereabouts of Horsey Stuart had yet to be discovered. Suddenly Lloyd solved the difficulty in characteristic fashion. Seizing the pistol that Gillespie, only a short while before, had loaded from the flower vase, he fired, it point blank at the chauffeur. The resultant stream of water struck the unfortunate Gill, just between the eyes, and trickling down his nose began to collect in a small pool at his feet.
“Come,” Imp. said, dismissing the incident from his mind, “there is work still to do.” And he commenced repacking the despatch case with the pistol, the magnifying glass, the two false beards and the conductor's baton. As he did so he came across the cigarette lighter he had first discovered in the signal cabin.
“Do you recognise this?” he enquired, offering it to Marris.
The latter examined the lethal weapon with awe.
“Yes,” he replied, “it's Horsey's.”
“As I thought,” muttered the detective. And then, acting on a sudden thought, he plucked a piece of paper from his hatband and thrust it under Marris's nose.
“And this,” he said, “have you seen this before?”
Marris stared at the paper. It was the scrap that Imp. had taken from the pocket of the dead man during the first preliminary investigation, and had on it the words:
“Send it to me or take the consequences.”
“Yes,” replied Marris eagerly, “that is the note I got from Horsey earlier in the day. I gave it to Pat when he came to the signal cabin.
“Enough,” said Imp., stuffing the paper back in his hat band, “the case is now clear as mustard. We have but to find the murderer. I think, Gillespie,” he added, as the latter shambled to the door after him, “we shall be back in town for dinner. Good morning, Mr. Marris, you need have no fear that justice will be done.” And with an old world bow the great investigator passed through the door.
(To be Continued.)
Perpetrated and Illustrated by)
Ken Alexander
Many who have striven to detect the motive of modern art have been carried away by the subject—on stretchers. Apparently it is as unexplainable as it is inexplicable. It is “art” with a large “eh???” It is distinguishable from art with a small “a” at about a thousand paces, with the naked eye. It is so striking that it leaves one stunned, stymied, stumered and staggered. Scarred veterans who have braved a dozen campaigns, and have bitten the dust of so many battlefields that one would imagine they could swallow anything, cry for the stretcher-bearers when confronted with superlative specimens of this deadly weapon of ultra-modern “whaffor.” Moaning, they mutter: “Sir, it ain't cricket, although they've got the ‘bats.”’
Time was when all art was spelt with a small “a” and one could breast up to a picture and say with confidence: “That is a cow,” or “That is the Leaning Tower of Pisa.” There was practically no possibility of getting the cow and the tower mixed and saying: “That is the Leaning Cow of Pisa.” Also, you were not assailed by doubts as to whether the tower got like that through the cow leaning on it, or whether the cow got lean through the tower falling on it. And finally, you did not come away wondering whether you had been looking at Pisa or pea soup, a cow or a clutch of tomatoes.
In those simple days an artist made up his mind what he would paint before he painted it. Seldom did he begin by painting “nesting chilblains” and then, halfway through, change it to “Cheeses exploding on the Zuyder Zee.” To make it easier, the thoughtful artist labelled his work, “Girl Nursing Grievance,” or whatever she was nursing, which left no room for doubt or argument. An artist said to himself: “Here goes for Luggers in a Storm,” and when it was hung the veriest dunce could see that it wasn't the Aga Khan winning the Derby.
There were no impressionists to paint a mutton chop and a guitar inextricably interwoven with a nude ear and a lighthouse, and labelled “The Wreck of the Spanish Armada.” There were no Surrealists to throw an egg at a bun-hat and call it “Spring in a Pickle Factory,” or “Lady in Pink.” There were no confusionists or contortionists or other “con men” of canvas, and poor saps like you and me, who like their art “straight,” were able to study pictures without going through all the motions of a steeple-jack playing itchycoo. Ultra-modern art might be art or artichokes; nobody knows which——not even the artist.
But, unfortunately, we of the outer isles are so far flung that the cryptic crescendos of the crazed creators of pigmented puzzles have mainly missed us. Mild attempts have been made to admit us to the inner intricacies of the Higher Futility but we are too uncultivated. We are so primitive that we
“Scarred veterans, who have braved a dozen campaigns, cry for the stretcher-bearers.”
We don't mind pictures that are a riot of colour, but we object to the sort that are just a riot. We like to be frank about our art, to come right out in the open and discuss it—not to sit in a corner wondering whether “Persephone at the Telephone” was the one which looked like “Nightmare after Cheese,” or the other which resembled the “Gasworks after Explosion.” As a consequence, our galleries are draped with pictures whichafford us satisfaction and pleasure; this, according to the advanced splash-andrun cults, is a most deplorable state. They condemn all pictures which give satisfaction and pleasure as pleistocene plagiarisms and contend that no picture can be termed a picture if it looks like one.
(Continued on p. 56.)
Leading New Zealand Newspapers.
The Aim Of Art
(Continued on p. 53.)
We, poor puling picture-peerers, imagine that pictures should be painted with paint. Bah! It is this sort of thing which has kept our pictures so disgustingly intelligible. News comes from Old England that the latest batch of demented delineasts whose correlated contortions are pursued under the pseudonym “surrealism,” stop at nothing, from socks to sausages, to capture the soul of sublimity in deleterious depiction. Hearken, oh ye simple souls who imagine that a picture is a picture, to this description of their principles—or lack of them.
“Logis is set at defiance. Fantasy is completely unbridled. Stress is laid on the inconsequential and the irrational.”
And this:
“Free use (is made) of sand, feathers, string and nails in order to make a picture.”
And also this:
“One particularly daring exhibit consists of half-a-dozen buttons—real buttons—sewn on a canvas across which is sewn a diagonal band of colour.”
And here we strike the high-spots of delirium:
“In one you press a button and a primitive eye revolves like a catherine wheel.”
“One picture is made with scraps of glass and scissor blades.”
“Another picture is made with an imperfect torso under a cage of wire and is labelled ‘Last Voyage of Captain Cook.”’
And finally, as if to prove that onehalf of the world is mad and the other is only half sane, it is seriously suggested that “—it is perhaps as well that we should not expend all our energy on ridicule but should try to understand what these surrealists are seeking after.”
“Whether Art is to make the ‘common man’ feel bigger, better and brighter.”
Whatever they are seeking after, we haven't got it. We aren't holding out on them.
All we want to know is whether the object of art is to make the “common man” feel bigger and better and brighter or to provide giddly gadgets to satisfy the mordant mummeries of mental minikins.
We, in our ignorance, prefer even the old masters to the new disasters. We still cling pathetically to the belief that art is imagination under control and not something looking as if it were done by R.A.'s with D.T.'s, or “G” men with gatlins.
We still cherish the illusion that a painting should have a dab or two of paint on it. Of course,
If the surrealists are right our next academy masterpiece shall consist of our hen canary in its cage, labelled “Whistler's Mother.”
The one thing that marks the true artist is a clear perception and a firm, bold hand, in distinction from that imperfect mental vision and uncertain touch which give us the feeble pictures and the lumpy statues of the mere artisans on canvas or in stone. —O. W. Holmes.
By)
Inst. C.E., Designing Engineer, N.Z.R.A. S. Wansbrough , M.The two grade diagrams shown in the illustration are intended to give some idea of the difficulties to be overcome in railway working in this country as compared with many other lands in which high speeds are less restricted by nature's formidable barricades in the form of high hills. The diagrams show to exactly the same scale the ups and downs on the route of the justly celebrated non-stop four-hour run of the “Silver Jubilee” from King's Cross to Newcastle as compared with the rises and falls in an equal distance along the route of the Auckland “Limited” Express. When properly understood they indicate that the performance of the latter train, though taking more than twice the time to travel the same distance, is by no means to be despised.
In the first 4 1/2 miles out from Wellington the line rises 513 feet, the average grade being about 1 in 40 for four miles of the ascent. The corresponding British train nowhere rises to this extent in any part of its run. Incidentally it might be mentioned that the Christchurch-Dunedin express reaches 382 feet at Chertsey in crossing the Canterbury “Plains.” The London-Newcastle route barely reaches this elevation at its highest point near Grantham. To eliminate the short but sharp climb from Wellington to Johnsonville a deviation costing #1,420,000 is nearing completion, but even this expenditure will take only about 10 minutes off the time taken by the “Limited” on its 426 mile journey, its real value being in the greater loads that can be hauled on goods trains. The greatest elevation reached is just over 2,670 feet at Waiouru after climbing 2,433 feet in the 100 miles from Feilding. An elevation of 2,670 feet is again reached near Pokaka, and 2,647 feet at National Park. The southbound “Limited” also climbs 935 feet in 20 miles from Te Kuiti to an elevation of 1,113 feet at Poro-o-tarao, including a 7 mile pull and several shorter ones up a grade of 1 in 70. Again from Kakahi to National Park there is a steady rise of 1,774 feet in
Diagram showing (above) the grades on the London-Newcastle Section of railway, England, and (below) the grades on the Wellington-Te Kuiti section of the North Island Main Trunk Line, New Zealand.
Nor are the grades the only cause of restricted speeds. The same type of rough country also calls for sharp curves. The milage of curves on the run illustrated is as follows:—
53 miles less than 15 chain radius
The speed permissable on curves varies as the square root of the radius. When R. is the radius in chains the average speed in miles per hour allowed on the railways of the world is approximately 11√R. The speed on the New Zealand railways reaches 11 1/2√R. on curves of 13 chain radius and upwards, and slightly less on sharper curves. The South African railways fix the speed at 10√R. The
These speeds can be run as the result of the high standard of maintenance of track in New Zealand, as has been recognised by numerous Railway experts who have from time to time visited these shores. A less expert but even more gratifying testimonial to the running qualities of both track and rolling-stock was given by a layman, who, while a daylight express was parked for the night at Ohakune at the time of the 1924 strike, complained of the slow travelling as inexcusable in view of the fact that the track was so level and so straight. When taken into the engineer's office and shown the plans and sections of the track he had just passed over, he was amazed at the combination of corkscrew and switchback and was devoutly thankful for his safe arrival.
The diagrams do not set out to show the highest or steepest grades on the respective systems, nor will such a comparison mean much, since in Great Britain of the 18 places in the whole 20,000 miles of British railways over 1,000 feet above sea-level, not more than five are on what could be termed main lines, namely the Druimuachdar Summit, 1,484 feet, near Dalmaspidal and the Slochd Mhuic, near Carr Bridge, 1,315 feet, both on the PerthInverness line; and those at Hindlow, 1,192 feet, on the Derby-Manchester line, Ais Gill, near Hawes Junction, 1,167 feet, Leeds-Carlisle (old Midland Section); and at the Beattock Summit, 1,014 feet, Carlisle-Carstairs line. All five are on the L.M.S. railway. The remainder are all either in the Highlands of Scotland or in the mountainous parts of Wales on Branch lines and none of these rises more than 1,500 feet above sea-level. The rack railway to the summit of Snowdon, 3,540 feet, cannoi of course be considered among the speed lines.
By way of contrast to these, in addition to the summits on the Wellington-Auckland route already mentioned, may be cited the 1 in 35 climb to 1,890 feet at Mamaku on the Rotorua line, and the 2,434 feet to the Arthur's Pass portal of the Otira Tunnel on the Midland line. It is of interest to note that the point at which the latter line leaves the Canterbury “Plains” and takes to the hills it has already reached, at Springfield, a height of 1,258 feet, or 244 feet above the well-known Beattock Summit on the Caledonian line and 339 feet above the Shap Fell Summit, 919 feet on the Leeds-Carlisle railway, London-N.W.
Does smoking shorten life? Antitobacs say it does. Apropos of that the death at Swansea (Wales) of Miss Elizabeth Dillwyn at the age of 90 was recently recorded. The old lady, a well-known Swansea identity who formerly took an active part in local public affairs, was an inveterate smoker, but had no time for cigarettes. She used to say: “Smoking cigarettes is like drinking beer out of a thimble!” Many of your dyed-in-the-wool smokers are like that. Well, brands may come and brands may go, but “toasted,” like the “Brook,” goes on for ever! It's always wanted! These famous tobaccos, Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead), Cavendish, Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold merit their outstanding popularity; all are remarkable alike for flavour and bouquet, also for their comparative freedom from nicotine eliminated in the course of manufacture by toasting, the manufacturers’ exclusive process which does so much to safeguard the smoker. But don't be imposed upon! Refuse all substitutes. The only genuine toasted brands are those above enumerated.*
As illustrating the slowing-up effect of even moderate grades and curves the trial run on the King's CrossNewcastle line may be cited. The average overall speed was 67 miles per
hour, but to attain this run a speed of over 80 miles per hour was run for over 120 miles, while the maximum instantaneous speed was 112 miles per hour. The average speed was therefore 60 per cent, of the maximum on a non-stop run. Nothing like these speeds could, of course, be attempted on a 3ft. 6in. gauge. To get a vehicle of sufficient carrying capacity both the height of the centre of gravity and the amount of lateral overhang have to be greater in proportion, thus reducing the safe speed. Nevertheless it is worth while to note that the average speed of the Christchurch-lnvercargill train is 66 per cent, and of the “Limited” express 60 per cent, of the maximum authorised speed of 50 miles per hour even after including the numerous stops required to give reasonable service to dwellers in inland towns.
The only long-distance trains that regularly exceed the 29.6 miles per hour of the Auckland “Limited,” and the 29.7 miles per hour of the Christchurch-Invercargill express (both including stops), on a 3ft. 6in. gauge cover the 373 miles between Tokio and Kobe (Japan); the 512 miles between Batavia and Sveravaja (Java), both 41.5 miles per hour, and the 455 miles between Johannesburg and De Aar (South Africa), 35.6 m.p.h., all inclusive of stops. It may reasonably be claimed, therefore, that for anything approaching comparable conditions the principal New Zealand express trains are well up arrrong the fastest in the world.
The Film In Railway Education.
The London, Midland and Scottish Railway—has for some years made use of cinema films for staff educational purposes, and this winter the special “film educational unit” devised by the Euston authorities is visiting no fewer than forty important centres in England, Wales and Scotland. This time the films are in sound, and two of the most important films showing are (1) “A Study in Steel,” which records the building of one of the latest type of locomotives at the Crewe Works; and (2) “Permanent Way,” a fascinating story of the 19,000 miles of track which go to form the L.M. and S. system lines.
A “Clean Sweep” Sale—and so it was. Passing now, I see no remnants of the heavy, dark, warm fabrics, the furs, and the clear glitter of the winter evening mode. All are swept away underground, or wherever out-of-season stock is kept.
The change seemed to begin with neckwear—young-looking bows and frills, fronts, bibs and tuckers frothed over the counters and found their way into shop windows, posed perkily against gay backgrounds of prints and voiles, seersuckers and piques, all manner of cotton fabrics. Having withdrawn one's eyes from the kaleidoscope of cottons, one could notice the silks, real and artificial, neat in small geometric or flower designs, or flamboyant with large floral sprays.
* * *
But the cold wind still nips, and a window full of spring tweeds in real new season colourings assures us that cottons can wait. Tweeds in overchecks, tweeds with bright nubs flecking them, really large and glaring plaids—here is material for skirts, suits and straight swaggers.
Suits for spring are classic in mannish worsteds; or if you want something casual, more knock-about, choose a plain skirt and plaid coat, or viceversa. Have the coat, in swing-back style, a box jacket, or with a backyoke and pleats for fullness.
* * *
Hats are intriguing, and many of them are ready to wear now before the weather improves, and woollies are discarded—and everyone knows the rejuvenating effect of a new hat.
Hats are small. I noticed particularly a glengarry in velvet and corded ribbon, a Breton sailor with a new and jaunty tilt, a pastel felt with a folded crown and the inevitable forward sweep of brim, numbers of small “bonnets” in wisps of straw or material filmed with veiling in various fashions, a few smothered in flowers; some with perky feather mounts. Coarse, shiny straws will be popular; but, of whatever material, be sure you have a toque.
* * *
Good Taste.
Art in Industry.
The dining-room suite, fatly opulent, bulged and curved ornately, straddled the turkey carpet, flower-blobbed; the wall-paper, arrogant in colour and design, called attention to itself; the very jardinieres, heavily ornamented, overawed the simplicity of green fronds embowelled in them.
Friends said, “How effective! In what good taste!”—and thought, “How expensive! We could really do with a new carpet (or sideboard, or curtains, or table-runner) at home.”
That was when Victoria, and Albert the Good, and Domesticity, and the Cult of Comfort, heavily ornate, ruled over an England hurrying into the welter of the Machine Age.
In this outpost of English culture, there are lingering remains—the Victorian system in art has not worked itself out even among our friends and relatives. Among the travelled, and among the younger, among the enlightened, and among the unconforming few who refuse to bow to Mammon in this guise, yes!
After a too-rich diet, plain food. After over-ornamentation, restriction to utility alone. So, over the civilised world, people have purged their parlours of fripperies and endeavoured to get back to essentials—a difficult process, possible only by strict adherence to the formula that objects be made to fulfil their function alone, and that any ornament is detrimental. The spirit of this creed is expressed more
Manufacturers are now seriously considering design. It is realised that the aesthetic quality of most manufactured goods is still unduly low, and the market for them is consequently restricted. If those in power can set a standard and raise the average of public taste, and, at the same time, by employing artists in design, raise the aesthetic value of machine-made goods, supply and demand will meet on common ground.
In England, from which most of our, manufactured goods come, a Council of Art and Industry, set up by the Board of Trade, has been working for two years to educate the public to appreciate and demand things of good design and to encourage increased employment of skilled designers.
In New Zealand, manufacturers will follow English trends in design. It remains only to attend to the educative side of the process—a far more difficult proposition. Artistic education should start in the schools. It certainly starts there, but how far does
As for adult development in artistic taste, its growth is fortuitous, depending mainly on whether acquaintances are interested in such matters and have books to lend. Our chance to observe things of good taste is negligible. There is no New Zealand exhibition of furniture, fabrics, china, glass, carpets, showing beauty of form, proportion, and of colour, combined with appropriateness of design, such as was shown in Edinburgh recently by the Scottish Committee of the Council of Art and Industry.
Even the advent of an Empire Art Loan Collection, such as has added interest to the opening of the new National Art Gallery, has meant little to most of us, save a further realisation of our inability to recognise what is of good taste. Even a collection of almost priceless china looks to me, regarded as a person of higher than average education, a “lot of junk.” I am annoyed that I regard it in that way, that I have not the knowledge to appreciate it, but what can I do to remedy the defect?
When I find the scent, and follow the trail in pursuit of good taste, I will let you know.
Knotted Faggotting.
On some of the newest collars and cuffs, blouses and lingerie, faggotting makes a decorative finish. To anyone who is experimenting with the stitch, I suggest working a simple edging for a collar or the top of a slip. Then, having discovered how easy it is, designs for fronts of blouses or nightgowns may be attempted.
It will be found that the method of knotting, as illustrated, is firmer and retains the spacing between the materials.
Cut one inch strips of bias material, fold in half, stitch, and turn inside out. Do not make the strips too long, or the turning may be difficult. I find the job easy by affixing a small safetypin at one end of my “tube” and gradually working it through.
Turn in a tiny hem on the edge of the material to be faggotted. Tack the material and the prepared bias strip, wrong side up, on firm brown paper with their edges about a quarter of an inch apart. Proceed according to the illustration.
Knotted faggotting
Health Notes.
In our last issue, we outlined the various constituents of foods generally, so now just a word regarding selection of diet, and a few hints in connection with cooking.
Firstly, let us advice you not to become “fussy or faddy” about your diet, but choose a well-balanced mixed diet of plain foods, and see to it that the cooking is right, for no matter how well-chosen your diet may be, it can easily be “murdered” in the kitchen.
From our last article you will have gathered that you must select from the following groups:—
-
Meat, fish, eggs.
-
Fruit and vegetables.
-
Cereals.
-
Milk and its products.
-
Cheese, nuts, sugars and fats.
Here let us emphasise the fact that a normal, healthy appetite usually guides one to a more or less correct selection of diet, and to the quantity required for the daily routine. Any error will manifest itself in gastric discomfort, such as flatulence or pain after a meal, and should be at once rectified.
Now, taking the protein groups, Nos. 1 and 4—meat, fish, eggs, milk and its products:—
Remember that protein matter hardens or coagulates when heated, so that
A Wake All Night With Indigestion
He Was Becoming A Wreck Of His Old Self
Now Sleeps Like a Top —Thanks to Kruschen.
Turning and tossing for hours at a time, with the pains of indigestion gnawing at his inside, this man used to pass night after night with hardly a wink of sleep. All the remedies he tried failed to help him, until he started taking a daily dose of Kruschen. That was what he needed to put him right, and his letter is a real proclamation of victory: —
“I first started taking Kruschen Salts three or four years ago. For years previously I had suffered agony with indigestion. Night after night for weeks on end I had very little sleep, and I was becoming a wreck of my old self for want of rest. I was advised to cut out my evening meal, and to take all kinds of remedies, none of which did me any good.
“About three or four years ago, I started taking Kruschen—half-heartedly I will admit—but after the first few doses my attacks grew less and less. I kept on and they completely disappeared, and I have been a regular 'Kruschenite’ ever since. I am now 50 years of age, and I can eat anything at any time without any ill effects. I sleep like a top——thanks to Kruschen.” —J.H.C.
Kruschen is a combination of six natural salts which stimulate your liver, kidneys and digestive tract to healthy, regular activity. They ensure internal cleanliness, and keep the blood-stream pure. New and refreshed blood is sent coursing to every fibre of your being. Rheumatism, headaches and indigestion all pass you by.
Kruschen Salts is obtainable at all Chemists and Stores at 2/6 per bottle.
the higher the temperature of cooking, the harder and tougher the article becomes, hence most protein cookery should be done at a low temperature.
It will now be obvious to you why twice-cooked proteins are indigestible. Fried proteins are most indigestible, because the superheated fats are quite changed in character and become gastric irritants.
In choosing meats and fish, keep to the plain varieties, avoiding as a
Group 2—fruits and vegetables: —
Fruits can be taken either raw or cooked, and may be used either fresh or dried. Most fresh fruits contain 80 per cent, water, while the dried fruits are deprived of this but retain their other properties.
Vegetables must be carefully cooked, otherwise their vitamin content is considerably depreciated, and their mineral supply decreased in value.
These vitamins and minerals are soluble in water, consequently, if the vegetables are left soaking too long in water the beneficial properties are lost in the water. For the same reason, do not cook vegetables for a longer period than is necessary, and use the minimum amount of water required. Do not add soda when cooking green vegetables, as the soda kills one of the most important of the vitamins.
Above all, avoid twice-cooked vegetables, as they are very indigestible.
That wonderful dish known as. “bubble-and-squeak,” so popular in boarding-houses, has well earned its title, as it really does “bubble and squeak.”
3. Cereals. —These should be cooked slowly, at a low temperature, and especially in the case of oatmeal, for a long time.
5. Cheese and Nuts are best taken in their natural state, when they are more easily digested than when cooked.
Sugars. —Far too much sugar is consumed in this country through the media of jams, sweets, cakes and fancy biscuits. Modify your sugar ration supplanting it with increased quantity of milk, fruit and vegetables. A certain amount of sugar is necessary, but be moderate in its use.
Fats. —These must be cooked slowly at low temperatures, in order to preserve their properties and prevent the formation of irritants which will upset the stomach.
Lastly, with regard to water—remember you must not drink during a meal, but do so after.
Vegetables.
Vegetables are chiefly valuable for the mineral elements which they contain, and if they are wrongly cooked much of this important mineral matter may be lost and the vitamins destroyed, rendering them almost valueless.
Here are a few rules which are worth following:—
(1) When cooking vegetables use as little water as possible in order to prevent loss of salts. (2) Do not add soda to vegetables, as it destroys the vitamins. (3) Do not use stale, withered, or decayed vegetables. (4) Fast boiling without a lid, and the addition of a little sugar and butter, will preserve the colour of the vegetables. Peas, however, should be simmered gently. (5) Salt should be added when the vegetables are nearly tender. (6) Utilise the water in which the vegetables have been cooked for gravies, soups, etc. (7) To prevent the smell of greens going through the house, place a crust of bread tied in muslin on the top of the greens, as it will absorb the smell. Cabbage is the main culprit in this connection.
Vegetarian Cookery.
3 lbs. turnips, 3 lbs. carrots, 2 onions, 4 oz. cheese, 2 1/2 oz. butter, breadcrumbs, pepper and salt, little water. Prepare and slice the vegetables finely. Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add vegetables and water, then simmer until tender. Turn into buttered piedish and grate cheese over the top. Sprinkle with the breadcrumbs, dot with pieces of butter, and bake in hot oven until the top is browned.
3 carrots, 3 onions, 1 turnip, 1 parsnip, 1/2 pint split peas, 2 oz. butter, 2 eggs, 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, seasoning, 1/2 lb. breadcrumbs.
Soak the peas overnight, then boil till soft. Boil all the other vegetables, and when tender mix with the peas, seasoning and parsley, and pulp to a smooth paste. Bind with the beaten egg. Form into sausages on a floured board. Dip in egg and breadcrumbs and fry in butter till a golden brown.
Salads.
Vegetable Salad.
Cold potatoes, peas, carrots, cauliflower, beans, chopped parsley, chopped onion or chives (preferably chives), and a good salad dressing; garnish with hard-boiled eggs. Serve on leaves of lettuce.
By)
“Shibli Bagarag .”An interesting addition to the fiction library of this country is “The Lauder Brothers’ New Zealand,” by A. A. Clapperton (A. H. & A. W. Reed, Dunedin and Wellington). The cumbersome, uninteresting title of the book is at complete variance with its contents, for here we have a story of a particularly engrossing interest—superior in many ways to some of the fiction I have read recently from leading English publishing houses. The scene is laid in Southland, the leading characters are two young sheep farmers, an eccentric uncle, a half-caste Maori girl, and a Dunedin typiste. The story is well told and the interest sustained, highlights being provided by a disastrous flood, a sheep stealing mystery and the carrying out of the egregious provisions of a will. While one may be annoyed at times at the amazing forbearance of the hero, one cannot but admire his sterling character, so splendidly portrayed, I cannot imagine any reader being disappointed in this book which sells at the very moderate price of 4/6.
* * *
I wonder that someone has not gathered together the poems of “Kodak,” the famous Australian humorist who died some years ago. His stories have made an admirable volume but I think his collected verse would “go down” equally well. Here is a typical sample of Kodak's humorous verse from my scrap book: —
Got Him “Off”!
It was only fitting that professor Arthur Sewell's fine Authors’ Week Address on Katherine Mansfield should have been rescued from its painfully attenuated state in the files of the daily press. We have it now, chastly printed in its entirety from that fine little printing press up Auckland way —the Unicorn Press.
* * *
Some of the contributors to the Anthology of New Zealand Short Stories which is being prepared by C. R. Allen for publication abroad by the Authors Press: Hector Bolitho, Eileen Duggan, “Robin Hyde,” E. Mary Gurney; Arnold Cork and F. Alexis Stevens. Hugh Walpole has promised to write an introduction. It is hoped to complete the collection within the next month or two.
Reviews.
“Green Gates,” by R. C. Sherriff (Victor Gollancz, London; Whitcombe and Tombs, New Zealand Agents) is one of the most human and wholesome stories I have read for many a long day. I don't know whether I am unduly prejudiced in its favour because of the fact that I picked it up after
A New Zealand bookplate of interest to railwayman.
“A Century of Ghost Stories” (Hutchinson, London; Whitcombe and Tombs, New Zealand Agents) is another of the wonderful Century Omnibus Series. Think of it ye would-be shudderers—1,024 pages containing 43 stories by 37 authors! The writers participating in these tombstone frolics, rattling bones and chains so effectively, include Wilkie Collins, Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker, Algernon Blackwood, Ambrose Bierce and a host of adepts in graveyard games. Candidl; I love ghost stories, and, methinks, I am far from being alone.
“Sanfelice,” by Vincent Sheehan (Hamish Hamilton, London; Whitcombe and Tombs Ltd., New Zealand Agents) is sufficiently important as an historical novel to warrant a lengthy review, but as I am at the moment overwhelmed with matter for this page, my notice must be compressed into a few lines. While some may disagree with the author's findings from the pages of history, all will admit that he has presented a vital book, one which is the result of much research work. The theme of the story centres around the unsuccessful Jacobin revolt at Naples, in 1799. The author not only pictures the stirring events of that picturesque and somewhat dissolute period, but analyses the mental attitudes of the rovolutionaries and the royalists of the time. Neither is he casual in his pictures of such
“Sheba Lane,” by H. Drake Brockman (Angus and Robertson, Sydney) is another novel of the Westralian pearling fields by the author of “Blue North.” It is the story of Christopher Kent, an Englishman, who, although of sensitive nature, braves life in the raw at Broome in an endeavour to win a fortune so that he might claim the English girl who is waiting for him. How Kent fails to find the material pearls and overlooks a very human one, makes a sombre but intensely interesting yarn. The author knows his locality well, and while the reader will be immersed in the plot, he will also be interested in the triumphs and tragedies of the hunt for the illusive wealth of the sea-bed. The novel first appeared as a serial in “The Bulletin” under the title of “Men and Pearls.”
“It's in Your Kitchen,” by Sister Bertha Parry (Angus and Robertson, Sydney) is a collection of simple home remedies. I'm glad the book is compact and well-bound for I can see it is going to be the most frequently consulted
“Shibli” Listens In.
Another book from the pen of Mr. C. A. L. Treadwell is due for publication shortly. It is a story of the New Zealand Infantry in the Great War and is, I believe, largely autobiographical.
Will Lawson, whose stirring novel “When Cobb & Co. Was King,” was reviewed in our last issue, has gone to West Australia for another job of book-writing.
“The Marriage of Nicholas Cotter,” Nelle Scanlan's latest novel, is to be published in London this month.
The 1937 Edition of the Australian Authors’ and Artists’ Handbook will be published about the end of the year.
The first edition of Robin Hyde's much-discussed book, “Passport to Hell,” is already a collector's item. Very few copies of this edition came to New Zealand. The book is in its fourth edition.
“Why on earth did they hold a New Zealand Authors’ Week?” remarked a New Zealand publisher to me the other day, pointing to a huge collection of Ms. piled on his table. “Novels, biographies and short story collections are simply pouring in from all parts of the country.”
Mr. F. J. Dawson Sen. has retired from the managing editorship of “The N.Z. Sporting and Dramatic Review” on account of ill-health. Mr. Stack Hickey has now taken control and has reduced the price of the paper to threepence.
The first number of “Flame,” the new Australian magazine of fiction, is just to hand. The ideals of the magazine are of the best—to publish and pay for short stories from Australian and New Zealand writers. No overseas syndicated work will be used. The editor of the magazine, Mr. L. L. Woolacott (one time editor of “The Triad”) is a capable writer and editor, well-known on both sides of the Tasman. The address of the enterprise is 160 Castlereagh Street, Sydney.
Mr. J. H. Hartnett, of the Signal and Electrical Branch of the New Zealand Railways Department, is the first Wellington man to win the gold medal presented by the Cablemakers’ Association of Great Britain to the student gaining highest marks in the examination for electrical wiremen. The medal is one of eight so far awarded to New Zealand electricians. The presentation was made by Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager of Railways, at a function held in Wellington on 5th August. Mr. S. G. Anderson, representing the Cablemakers’ Association of Great Britain, occupied the chair, and, in the course of a pleasant speech, explained that the medal was donated bi-annually by the Cablemakers’ Association of Great Britain, to the students gaining the highest marks in the theoretical and in the practical examinations for electrical wiremen.
In making the presentation, Mr. Mackley said it afforded him great pleasure, as General Manager of Railways, to tender to Mr. Hartnett bis heartiest congratulations on his achievement. Not only is it a reward to his diligent work and his ideals of improved knowledge and efficiency, but an incentive and an example to the Service as a whole, and all the other members of the Railway Service joined with him in extending congratulations to Mr. Hartnett. “I am particularly indebted to the Chairman and the Association for affording me the opportunity to be present, and for the honour of being requested to present the medal. This action is specially appreciated, because the winner is a member of the Department and is attached to the Signal and Electrical Engineer's staff,” said Mr. Mackley.
“Mr. Hartnett is an old boy of the Kaiwarra School, which has much in common with the Railway community who reside there, and Mr. J. M. McLean, Chairman of the Kaiwarra School Committee, and a prominent member of the Railway service has requested me to extend to Mr. Hartnett the congratulations of his old school. Mr. Hartnett's school is pleased to have an ex-pupil who has the distinction of being the first student in Wellington to succeed in winning the medal. It is gratifying, also, to learn that of the eight occasions on which the medal has been awarded, members of the Department's Signal and Electrical Engineer's staff have been successful on two occasions, Mr. Harold Stringer having been awarded the medal in September, 1935, as a result of his success in the theoretical examination.
“I feel I must take this opportunity to congratulate the Cablemakers’ Association of Great Britain on their efforts to encourage improved quality in the workmanship of those called upon to install their equipment. Good workmanship in conjunction with finely made equipment makes for efficiency, and this is specially desirable in railway operating from the signalling and interlocking point of view. I am pleased to say that the Cablemakers’ Association is aiming at that ideal of high standard, and it is ably seconded by its New Zealand representatives, as evidenced by the interest the New Zealand Association and its Chairman take in the affairs of the parent body.
“Mr. J. H. Hartnett is the son of a railwayman. Before joining the Department, he served some time with electrical firms, but up to then had not sat for his Wireman's Examination. He has shown aptitude in learning the complicated wiring work involved in the
(
Photo., courtesy “Evening post.”)
Mr. G. H. Mackley (right), General Manager of Railways, presenting the Cublemakers’ Association Medal Mr. J. H. Hartnett.
“It may be of interest to mention that the wiring work in the Signal and Electrical Branch includes not only electrical work on all voltages up to 33,000 and the maintenance and erection of overhead lines for all purposes, but also practically every variety of apparatus. It is not surprising, therefore, that on joining the Railway Department, men trained as electricians in normal electrical wiring work have to be further trained before they are capable of installing or maintaining the apparatus used in the various phases of the application of electricity for railway working. Wiremen trained in ordinary wiring work require considerable additional training before they have acquired sufficient knowledge to enable them to carry out the electrical work required in railway operation.
“The Department has recently decided to appoint electrical apprentices, and four have been started. These young men will be trained not only in ordinary wiring work, but also in the specialised application of wiring for railway purposes. This will ensure that in the future a staff of fully trained men is available, and it is to be hoped that these apprentices will be present at future similar gatherings to collect their gold medals. At a meeting last evening, a wellknown authority stated that the Department's apprentices were being trained in a manner and in an atmosphere second to none in New Zealand.
Specially Written for “N.Z. Railways Magazine,” by)
W. F. Ingram .After nearly thirty year? since its first representative competed in a track event at the Olympic Games, New Zealand has had the honour of securing a first place in an Olympic track contest.
And with this first win, the result of a brilliant run by Jack Lovelock, New Zealand's prestige on the sports field stands high.
It is with a natural feeling of pride that New Zealanders have read of the high praise paid Lovelock by leading American and English coaches, and by the one-time incomparable Paava Nurmi himself. Nurmi, the man who introduced the carrying of a stopwatch during a race and running to a set schedule, considers that Lovelock is the greatest mile runner ever seen.
But what makes the New Zealander so outstanding among milers? It is undeniable that he possesses more speed than the majority of champions, that he has an uncanny sense of summing-up the capabilities of the opposition and a supreme confidence in his own capabilities. But it is not any one of the above attributes that makes Lovelock so notable among great athletes.
Few, if any of the past champions, have demonstrated the mental attitude to athletics and to sport in general, that has been typical of the “medical man in a hurry” as he was so aptly termed by an American sports writer. Lovelock runs for the sheer love of running, and success or failure in a race is not gauged by being first or last past the post, but by the enjoyment he has felt in the friendly test of speed. He has been termed the “one race a year athlete” and there can be no denying that the title is a fitting one. And he does not make athletic training or competition intrude on his studies.
Since he first ran into the limelight in England—on May 26, 1932—when he established fresh British Empire figures for the one mile, Lovelock has trained to reach physical fitness at a certain stage, in the season—at the time when he needed all his physical and mental resources to win some important race. And so successful has been his training schedule that he has yet to be found wanting when put to the lest.
In fact, since the Olympic Games in 1932, Lovelock has only been defeated once when fit and well, and that was by Luigi Beccali, the Olympic champion of that time. The New Zealander has certainly been placed second and third in championship races, but invariably it has been noted that he has made no great effort to run “beyond himself” and within a few weeks has completely vanquished his former conquerors.
Lovelock was born at Reefton on January 5, 1910. His primary school days were served at Temuka and Fairlie. At the age of 12 years he was dux of the Fairlie School and had his science notebook selected for representation at the Wembley Exhibition, when a pupil at Fairlie High School.
Throughout his scholastic career, it is noticed that he has been outstanding in sport, but—and more important —outstanding, too, in the field of learning.
Railway excursionists on the way to Arthur's Pass (the Aloine playground of Canterbury halt for refreshment at Springfield station).
At that great sporting cradle, Timaru Boys’ High School, where he represented his school at football, cricket, athletics, boxing, tennis, swimming. fives and gymnastics, Lovelock passed his various examinations including Solicitors’ General Knowledge and Medical Preliminary.
In 1927, he was placed third for New Zealand on the credit list for University, his career has been one of success, hard-earned. Success on the track 1928, he was dux of the Timaru Boys’ High School and won a New Zealand University National Scholarship.
From Timarti Boys’ High School, to Otago University, to Oxford University, his career has been one of success hard earned. Success on the track and success in his chosen sphere—the medical profession—and success made more meritorious because of his unchanged outlook and level-headedness.
Lovelock has gone a long way as an athlete; some say that it is impossible for any mortal man to do better, but his greatest success may be in the medical world. Men capable of expressing opinions have made no secret that Lovelock is destined to be known as a great figure in circles outside the sporting fields. And New Zealand will wish him well.
The Australian Rugby representative team will be touring New Zealand during this season and cementing still stronger the bonds of friendship that has long existed in sport between the two countries. The team includes a
* * *
When the Canadian schoolboy athletes competed in New Zealand after a successful meeting in Melbourne, few New Zealanders realised that no less than three members of the team would be representing Canada at the Olympic Games two years later. But, so it proved. Sammy Richardson, the Negro athlete who celebrated his sixteenth birthday in Wellington—and he was already the British Empire Champion broad jumper—John Loaring, hurdler, and Howard McPhee, sprinter, all wore the Maple Leaf in Berlin, and all performed well. Loaring filled second place in the 400 metres hurdles and sixth place in the 400 metres flat, while Richardson qualified for the final of the broad jump. McPhee went out in the semi-finals of the 100 metres sprints.
Canada has long shown great interest in the welfare of the schoolboy athletes, and has in Dr. Lamb, who managed the team to New Zealand, an outstanding figure in the amateur athletic world.
* * *
It is given to few sporting combinations to go through a fairly long tour without scoring a single success and still attract good attendances. Such is the record that fell to the lot of the Fijian Women's hockey team which has just concluded a tour of New Zealand. The Test Match played against New Zealand at Wellington in August saw the visitors defeated by four goals to nil after a determined game, and a game that showed the visiting team to be comprised of a band of players worthy of high praise. The wet weather experienced by the players, who could not adapt themselves to the strange conditions, was in no small manner responsible for the succession of defeats chalked up against them, but with the spirit of good sportsmanship pre-eminent, they played each game as it should be played—and earned the admiration of all New Zealanders. The world is the better for possessing good losers; it is easy to be a good winner!
* * *
New Zealand is fast becoming the Mecca for Australian boxers, and each steamer from across the Tasman seems to bring one or more additions to the ranks of the active glovesters. Pleasing, too, is the indication that New Zealand sportsmen are beginning to show renewed interest in the doings of the New Zealand boxers who have had a lean time for the past five or six years. Joe Hall, one of the best feather-weights in Australia, could not do better than share the decision with New Zealand's own star, Billy Aitken, and although few expected the local product to last out the journey, the return bout is expected to set a new indoor gate record for the past five or six years. Boxing, as a box-office attraction, has one great advantage over wrestling—it is possible for “local champions” to be pitted against visiting boxers in almost every district in the land. New Zealand has but few wrestlers capable of extending visiting matmen; its boxers are not to be passed over with scorn.
* * *
It has been said that the first thing a group of Australians will do on settling in a strange country is to form a racing club; New Zealanders, it is claimed, will form a Rugby football club. Sport seems to be bred into the Wood of New Zealanders and Australians, and the natural instinct undoubtedly leads in the direction of endeavouring to excel on the performances of the teacher. This has never been better demonstrated than in tbe sport of wrestling. “Lofty” Blomfield, who learned the rudiments of wrestling in Auckland, and in turn received valuable experience under the eye of Tom Lurich and Dan Koloff, has “invented” the most destructive hold seen in wrestling this season. He has won many matches with his specialty, which may yet win for him the much-publicised British Empire wrestling title. Another New Zealander to “invent” a match-winning hold is Dick Godfrey, a Wellington
* * *
The long-distance cycle races are due to start in New Zealand in the next few weeks. But what a contrast the Palmerston North to Wellington race is now to what it was when it was first held ten years ago! Then the roads were gravel ones and not bitumenised. The hills were sometimes sticky masses of clay and the 102 miles course was 102 miles in length, Improyed roading conditions and the straightening out of winding roads has made the race faster, but no easier. The “plugger” did have a chance in 1926, but 1936 is the day of speed all the way. To win a race from Palmerston North to Wellington, it has been said that a “cyclist must start off at top speed and gradually increase the pace!” The speed at which cyclists travel during this race would amaze the average reader. The writer has left Palmerston North in a car at the same time as the scratch bunch—about one hour after the limit or “weaker” riders have started—and although the speedometer has shown up to fifty miles per hour, has not caught the limit men until the Paekakariki Hill has been reached, about 70 miles away.
Variety In BriefeMr. Arthur Kilminster, of Lower Hutt, a pioneer settler in the Hutt Valley, relates that in his boyhood days Wairarapa residents conveyed their produce per bullock dray over the ranges to the metropolis, and en route parked at a stable at Taita, which is still a very familiar landmark to residents of the valley. Produce conveyed to the “city” included wool, skins, timber, butter, etc. The Kilminster homestead was close by. Sometimes 30 or 40 bullocks were stabled nightly, so the quarter was quite a social centre. The return trip occupied four days.
Mr. Kilminster also remembers the intermittent excitement provided by Maori raids. Fortunately there were friendly as well as hostile Maoris, and the former had a pa on the corner of what is now Park Avenue. These friendly Maoris gave warning when a raid was contemplated by the others and had it not been for their loyalty the Pakeha residents would surely have been annihilated. Most of the poor Pakeha residents at such times sought the friendly shelter of the Blockade, at Lower Hutt, situated where Riddiford Park now is. My mother, who is an old resident of the Hutt, visited the settlement in the very early days and stayed at a house opposite the Blockade and remembers the rows of rifle holes with which its walls were dotted.
In recalling the days of his youth, Mr. Kilminster stated that his father purchased land at Haywards, where Manor Park now is. The land belonged to Mr. Fry, an Englishman who built his home in Fry's Lane, where the old house still stands.
Viii, when the latter visited Petone, and I well remember the occasion. Mr. Kilminster was a bush carpenter, and helped to build all the bridges in the valley. Mr. King and Mr. Kilminster assisted Mr. Meager to build the Taita Anglican Church, which is still used for worship.
Till recently, two of the oldest houses in the Hutt Valley stood side-by-side, opposite Park Avenue corner. Between 80 and 90 years ago Mr. Avery, the late Mrs. Kilminster's father, bought 70 acres at Taita, felled the bush and built a home for himself and Mrs. Tanday, Mrs. Avery's mother. The Tanday home still stands, and is Mr. Kilminster's home. Mr. Avery was an active participant all through the Maori wars, and was called on one occasion to Pahautanui as there was a skirmish there. During the tramp his boots wore out, so, taking his shirt off he tore it in strips and wound it round his feet. Even so, when he got home his feet were sore and bleeding.
Mr. Clements was an outstanding personality in those early days, and kept the main road in order, his little stretch being from the Petone Woollen Mills to Silverstream which he covered in a month. Archdeacon Fancourt was another very hard-working man, as his parish included the whole of the Hutt Valley. When he was unable to officiate on a Sunday, Mr. Clements took his place. And my mother tells me Dr. Wilford, father of Sir Thomas Wilford, was the sole medical man, and he was responsible not only for the welfare of the Hutt Valley, but Wainui-o-mata as well. And didn't he work! He was often to be seen on his hard-worked nag, and sometimes he was asleep, as probably he had been up all the night before.
—“Jasmine.”
* * *
In the midst of various controversies regarding Maori pronunciation, I was interested to hear a railway guard call out the names of various stations in correct Maori—even to the “umu,” on the end of “Paraparaumu,” but was surprised to hear him contradict himself immediately and give the names the usual mispronunciation. On my enquiring the reason, he stated that he pronounced the names correctly in the first instance because obviously they should be so announced and in the hope of educating people up to the right thing. He then mispronounced them in case passengers intending to alight there should not recognise the names when pronounced correctly. I was inclined to agree with his actions and his reasoning, particularly should he find the occasion to give the correct rendering of such names as “Tauherenikau.” The same guard was able to tell me the meaning of most of the Maori place names and often the history associated with the name.—C. McB.