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SOLUTION TO “PUZZLE PIE” NO. 172.
1. NIGHT (“Ambrose Lavendale, Diplomat”—E. Phillips Oppenheim). 2. JILL (“City of Beautiful Nonsense”—E. Temple Thurston). 3. LOUISA (“The Glory of Clementine Wing”—Wm. J. Locke). 4. FENCE (“The Holy Flower”—H. Rider Haggard). 5. PACED (“The Hundredth Chance”—Ethel M. Dell). 6. LOVE (“John Burnet of Barns”—John Buchan).
RESULT OF “PUZZLE PIE” NO. 172.
Four competitors submitted all-correct solutions, and the PRIZE OF £25 IN CASH is therefore awarded to them. Each will receive £6/5/-. They are:—
W. R. White, Park Road, Papakura; Mrs. C. Harrison, Park Road, Papakura; Miss L. Telfar, Aria (via Te Kuiti); Mrs. W. Lock, 118 St. Vincent Street, Nelson.
Prize money will be posted on Monday, 21st December.
Rly. Publicity photo.)
A peaceful cove in Golden Bay, Nelson Province, South Island, New Zealand.
“The sea, a shining girdle winds Round cliff and cape and bay.”
The hearty wish for “A Merry Christmas” is an older and sturdier expression of the Christmas spirit than the colourless “seasonal greetings” and “compliments of the season” so frequently exchanged nowadays. Happiness may be placid but merriment cannot be. So when you wish people a Merry Christmas you are expressing a hope that they will be able to devote some personal activity to produce the pool of goodwill from which the Christmastide draws its dividends of joy and gladness.
Part of the merriment of Christmas arises from the surprises of gifts. And this goes all the way from the penny tooter to the tourist ticket to Paradise.
Speaking of surprises calls to mind one of O. Henry's most charming stories. It deals with a Christmas Eve when neither the young husband nor his wife had enough in cash to buy a worthy present for the other. But Della had a wealth of crowning glory in her hair, and Jim owned a much-prized gold watch. When Jim came home with some wonderful combs for Della, he found that she had sold her hair to buy him a watch-chain; but he had already parted with his watch to buy the combs. In this, of course, they differed from the two wise sisters who wanted new gloves and by pre-consultation bought similar presents for each other so that each had new gloves that were Christmas presents.
Concluding his story of the husband and wife, O. Henry makes the following typical comment—so helpful to the understanding of the spirit of Christmas that it should be known and understood by all: “The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication.” And then comes the final trumpet about “these two children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.” In “a last word” to the wise of these days he remarks: “Let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest … … They are the magi.”
A Merry Christmas means good fellowship and “joy upon earth.” It is the climax of the annual round—the good time that is looked forward to for six months with pleasurable anticipation, and back upon for another six months with reminiscent satisfaction—and, in New Zealand, it is the greatest travel period of the year. The weather is at its best, the call of the open spaces is heard throughout the land, and the homing instinct brings relatives together from all quarters of the compass for the annual family festival.
The more recent improvements in the means of transport aid greatly in the movements of population associated with the Christmas period, and all present indications point to a record use of the Railways this year in effecting these mass movements. May one and all throughout the Dominion have at least as merry a Christmas as they deserve, and a merrier if possible.
The Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways, has expressed a desire to be associated with myself and the Executive Officers of the Department in a message conveying to all members of the Service, all clients of the Department, and all readers of the Magazine our best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a Bright and Prosperous New Year.
The marked improvement in the whole railway situation in New Zealand during the past twelve months is a matter upon which all can be congratulated, and it is pleasing to know that this revival has occasioned general satisfaction.
It is anticipated that the approaching Christmas and New Year holiday period will be one of exceptional activity in the transport world and more particularly insofar as our Railways are concerned. The efficiency of our organisation will, no doubt, be thoroughly tested, and as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link everybody associated with the operating side of our business will require to see that the weakest link is sufficiently strong to adequately withstand the strain that it will no doubt have to bear.
The indications are that the future holds much promise for progressive development in every phase of our activities, and with the strengthening of public support the capacity of the Railways to handle the major portion of the transport needs of the community is increasingly necessary. Arising from this augmented public patronage the opportunity is afforded the Department to demonstrate its ability to give satisfaction to travellers and traders alike in those factors which mean so much in the orderly progress of transport.
I wish again to express thanks to the staff for the splendid support they have given throughout the year to the efforts of the Management, and to the public for their friendliness and the increasing use they have made of the National Transport System.
The latest available figures of railway revenue show that for the 32 weeks of the current financial year from the 1st April to the 7th November the gross revenue is approximately £473,228 greater than for the corresponding term last year, having risen from £3,893,772 to £4,367,000. The increase in net revenue has been sufficient to meet the whole of the increased costs involved in handling the greater volume of traffic, in making a complete restoration of wages to the pre-depression level, and, more recently, in introducing the 40-hour week throughout the Railway Service.
General Manager.
There is stillness in the mountain road,
We just could hear the valley river flow.
William Pember Reeves.
A magnificent scene on the Howden - Mackenzie track, Lower Hollyford Valley, South Island, New Zealand.
(Photo., Thelma R. Kent).
Both historic and prehistoric glamour hang over the Castle Hill region, a mountain-girt area, five miles by three, situated beyond Porter's Pass on the old West Coast Road, in the South Island of New Zealand.
This route to Westland, not greatly used nowadays because of the necessity of fording the Waimakariri River at the Bealey, was, in the time of the great gold rush of the ‘sixties the chief highway to Hokitika, Kumara, Greenstone and the other gold-producing areas which were sprinkling the map of Westland with townships as mushrooms upthrust themselves in a paddock.
In the old coaching days the halfway house between Springfield and Arthur's Pass was the Castle Hill Hotel. A desolate heap of white ruins, crouching at the feet of a squad of pine trees is all that remains of the one-time busy hostel. Many a fortune-hunter must have stopped here for refreshment, and many a motley train of pilgrims the inn must have witnessed, all scurrying towards their El Dorado, by waggon, horseback or on foot.
Doubtless those gold-seekers of last century never even noticed the unusual appearance of the region through which they were passing, yet Nature has here a lapful of treasures and curios to show any who will leave the roadway for the hills. The wealth of scenic and scientific interest here has, in fact, from the earliest days of the Canterbury settlement, been a magnet to the geologist and the botanist.
Between Lake Lyndon and the Thomas River there can be seen from the road, on either side, queer collections of rocks perched on the surrounding heights. “How on earth did they get there?” was our ejaculation when, on our first camping trip to the basin, we caught sight of the nearest group. Closer investigation of these collections made us only marvel the more. They are limestone formations, many poised in the most precarious of positions. The generally accepted theory accounting for their presence is that the area is all that remains of a strata of limestone which covered a part of the South Island when it was under the sea. With the raising of the island, this part was not raised so high. The surrounding mountains, pressing on all sides of the basin would have contorted the limestone into irregularities, and these, the elements of the ages seem to have taken delight in weirdly fashioning.
The most interesting group, perhaps, is that behind the Castle Hill homestead. There, the ruins of a great amphitheatre are suggested to even the least imaginative. On the hill above is a high rock shaped like a monkey with its paws over its ears. This we named “Hear No Evil.” A limestone turtle is clambering over a boulder, a group of giant mushrooms stands unchanged throughout the seasons, and the back view is seen of a girl with bobbed hair, sitting in a chair. With something of the delight of a child playing at pretending we have wandered on these hills, finding rock after rock which, without effort, imagination clothes with meaning.
Among the most striking forms are a seal, a rabbit, a spaniel's head and an ant-eater, all perched upon summits like bolts from the blue.
The limestone is full of fossil shells and so is the grass on the hill-slopes. Sir Julius Von Haast, one of the first to study the district, made a large collection of these, which included some hitherto unknown specimens.
The botanist, too, has been rewarded here with important finds. There are plants that grow only in limestone country, plants on the shingle-slips characteristic of that environment, high alpine plants, and species found nowhere else in New Zealand.
To us, lovers rather than students of nature, the statuary is the chief interest.
There are a number of caves in the district, but the most attractive feature to the venturesome is the underground passage of Murderer's Creek. This stream enters a hillside cavern, drops down a ten-foot waterfall and runs through a very narrow rock-walled passage where single file is a necessity, over minor falls and emerges, after about a quarter of a mile's run, on the other side of the hill, in a valley where it joins Broken River.
We have camped in this district at various spots and in various seasons, but the site of our first camp could scarcely be bettered. It was October. Our tent was pegged on the fringe of the bush which skirts the Craigieburn Range, its flap open towards the snow-clad Torlesse Ridge. The position is sheltered, gives easy access to the most interesting rock groups, and the proximity of the bush spells bird-music night and morning. Tea here, in the October twilight, after a day's exploring on the surrounding hills, is priceless. What a dining room! “While evening's dewy fingers draw the gradual dusky veil,” the blackened billy hangs from its tripod over the leaping flames of a wood fire, and as the blue smoke rises, curls and melts in the deepening dusk we are at peace with the world. The last sleepy twitters of the bush birds are sounding by the time we make our tea, but there is no hurry—we have left all that behind us. The meal is leisured, unconventional and perfect.
No less satisfying is it later to lie in a three-walled bedroom looking out to a starry sky supported across the way, by ghostly moonlit peaks, while the only sounds are the eerie calls of a morepork owl in the bush.
And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, With wild infracted course and lessen'd roar It gains a safer bed, and steals at last Along the mazes of the quiet vale.”
-Thomson.
The Whangarei Falls, North Auckland, New Zealand.
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
“There are men and classes of men that stand above the common herd: the soldier, the sailor and the shepherd not infrequently; the artist rarely ….; the physician almost as a rule. He is the flower (such as it is) of our civilisation …. Generosity he has, such as is possible to those who practise an art, never to those who drive a trade; discretion, tested by a hundred secrets; tact, tried in a thousand embarrassments; and, what are more, Heraclean cheerfulness and courage.”
Robert Louis Stevenson in his dedication of “Underwoods” to his doctors.
S. P. Andrew photo.)
Sir Truby King.
Stevenson's tribute to the altruism of the doctor applied to the profession in general; it was addressed to the general practitioner. The debt that the people owe to their skilful and hardworking and generous medical men can never be paid in full or even told in full. Every doctor must be something of a philanthropist at heart, otherwise he would never have adopted such a calling. But there are exceptional men, who stand out like king-trees of the forest above their fellows; men whose love for humanity, devotion to duty, and indifference to selfish considerations invest them with a saint-like character; Sir Frederick Truby King is pre-eminently one of these Father Damiens of the medical world. As I write this Sir Truby lies very ill, his body worn out in the service of the suffering and the weak; his life's work done. He is seventy-eight. His brain is as keen and bright as ever, but there is no need now for him to concern himself about the future of the duty to which he devoted all his powers and all his resources. The work goes on, the helping of women and children, the salving of infant life.
The world-famous system of the Plunket Society, with which the name of King of Karitane is associated, has saved many thousands of infant lives, and it will save many thousands more. It has given an enormous stimulus to better health for the young, it has educated the community in parenthood; its influence is widespread in the building up of strong and healthy men and women, wisely nourished and protected against disease.
The Truby King Karitane Hospital on Melrose Heights, Wellington, where mothers and infants are cared for and where a factory manufactures health food for the little ones, is a wonderful monument of toil and skill and self-sacrifice. With Sir Truby's name is, of course, associated the late Lady King's. For forty years that noble lady shared her husband's work and shaped with him the splendid institution and the methods of nutrition that went to reduce the infant death rate in New Zealand until it is the lowest in the world.
New Zealanders are proud to remember that this great and wonderful man is a native son. He was born in New Plymouth in 1858, the son of Mr. Thomas King, a bank manager. Young Frederick Truby worked in the uninspiring field of figures for some years, but fortunately for his country he was attracted by the doctor's profession, and when he was twenty-two he went to Edinburgh to study medicine. There he found his place and his soul. He was a distinguished student, he graduated as a doctor and took his B.Sc. degree. The study of public health also engaged him. After graduating he spent some time in gaining experience in private practice as well as in hospitals, before returning to New Zealand in 1888. In Edinburgh he married Isabella Millar—the late Lady King. The care of the insane was one of his most absorbing studies, and for a year he was surgeon superintendent of the Mental Hospital at Porirua. Then the Government appointed him to take charge of the large hospital for the insane at Seacliff, on the Otago Coast, and there he spent many years, afterwards becoming Director-General of Mental Hospitals in the Dominion. He also was a lecturer and professor at Otago University.
The enthusiastic young doctor instituted many reforms at Seacliff, in the more rational treatment of the mentally afflicted. He made a great success of the large farm and orchards belonging to the Hospital, and he bred stock on scientific principles. It was in this asylum that he realised how closely mental trouble was associated with early malnutrition, and his study of cause and effect set him experimenting with the rearing of infants. That was the beginning of his long and increasingly useful efforts for the improvement of the human stock from babyhood.
One of my memories is a first transient meeting with Dr. Truby King in 1903, near the scene of his child-saving activities in its early stages. That was at Puketiraki, the railway station nearest to now-famous Karitane, where the doctor and his wife had a summer home, a few miles from Seacliff. It was an introduction, a few words, and a passing-on at the station; the doctor was bound to Dunedin and I was on the way to explore a place of history and ethnological interest, the massive ancient entrenchments of Te Pa-a-Te-Wera, on Huriawa or Karitane Peninsula. Dr. King was an earnest, thoughtful man, of pleasant, kindly
Photo. courtesy W. Forsyth, Riverton.)
Turning the first sod of the Riverton-Invercargill Railway, by Superintendent J. Macandrew, Otago Provincial Council, 1875. Elaborate preparations are being made for the celebration of Riverton's centenary in January, 1937.
manner, but clearly not a man of robust health. His thoughts all his life were for others, not himself. I met my friend Tame Parata, the Maori member for the South Island electorate, and we walked from his Puketiraki home down to the shore at Karitane, a mile away. That shore of the wide Waikouaiti Bay and its neighbourhood is the most beautiful part of the Otago coastline. The grassy fields go down to the edge of the white sand and the sparkling sea. It is a place of old-time story, the scene of Johnny Jones's whaling station a century ago and of the missionary labours of the Revs. Watkin and Creed. On hilly Huriawa Peninsula, the southern head of Waikouaiti Bay, we explored the olden fortifications. Just at the entrance to the Peninsula, on the sandy neck of land, Mr. Parata showed me Dr. King's house and garden, partly surrounded with tall manuka fences as a sand-barrier and breakwind. It certainly was a well-sunned spot, albeit breezy, a delicious place of warmth and kindly air, I thought, when the winds were at rest. Close by were the massive earth parapets of Te Wera's Pa; there the great gateway called the “Lips of Toretore” stood.
It was there in that sun-drenched corner on Karitane neck that Dr. Truby King carried out his first experiments in the rearing of infants on modern hygienic and dietary principles.
Karitane—a note about that name of fame. It was the name given to the mission establishment of the Rev. Mr. Creed, facing the bay, on a sandy terrace alongside the Maori village and the marae or green called Hau-te-kapakapa. Both words, “Kari” and “tane” are good Maori, but they are meaningless in this conjunction. Enquiry has elucidated the origin. It is a composite name, made up of an abbreviation of “Kariti,” the Maori pronunciation of “Creed,” and “tane,” meaning man. We may, therefore, translate Karitane as “Creed the man”—or, say, “Mr. Creed”—a linguistic memorial to the early-days preacher and teacher.
Many boarded out infants in a condition of sickness and semi-starvation came under Dr. King's observation when he was in charge at Seacliff. Wherever he had an opportunity he tried to remedy these blunders in child-rearing. He and Mrs. King resolved to make their Karitane home a little hospital for ill-nurtured babies. They took in a number, treated them with scientific attention to each one, and restored them all to health. The good work went on and gradually spread over a wide field. Dr. King engaged nurses and taught them his methods, and prominent people in New Zealand were interested in the crusade to save the children. He preached the gospel of ante-natal care; it was necessary to educate the mothers as well as tend the children.
He organised a Society for the Health of Women and Children. Lady Plunket and her husband, the Governor of New Zealand at that period, warmly supported the movement, and the new Society was named in their honour. The work went on; the right dietary treatment of babies was extended over New Zealand, and the health-rate of infant life steadily rose. Generous donors in Otago and elsewhere gave assistance, and the first Karitane Hospital was established in a house at Anderson's Bay, near Dunedin. Humanised milk, the necessary of life in the rearing of the infants, was prepared in large quantities under the supervision of the doctor's assistants. Then the work grew Dominion-wide, and eventually the present beautifully-situated Karitane Hospital was built on the sunny and airy hilltop of Melrose. There are sometimes as many as twenty infants in the institution, besides a number of mothers receiving ante-natal care. “Any baby suffering from malnutrition,” says Sir Truby, “is our care.”
The Rotary Club was early in the field in rendering generous assistance to the Plunket work and the establishment of its present fine home. But
Photo. courtesy “Evening Post.”)
The Traby King Karitane Hospital on Melrose Heights, Wellington, New Zealand.
The factory makes three tons of emulsion a week and one ton of sugar of milk a day. The emulsion is nutritive; the sugar furnishes energy. Large quantities of this prepared food are sent to England and elsewhere. Sir Truby's system of infant-feeding has been adopted in England, Germany, Canada, South Africa, and Australia; and it is extending.
Distinctive names have been coined for the infant food; they preserve the story of its origin. The emulsion is called “Kariol” and the sugar of milk is “Karilac.”
The example of New Zealand, the noble system of infant salvation that owes its foundation to the doctor and his wife, is a light to the civilised world. Sir Truby himself went to England—his services were lent to the cause there by the New Zealand Government—to organise the Plunket system, and the benefits of his campaign of instruction were soon apparent.
Honours came to this most retiring of men. He was made C.M.G., and in 1930 he was knighted. He was left a poor man by his constant expenditure on the cause nearest to his heart. That was the great joy of his life, to spend all he had in energy and in every other way on the building up of a happy, healthy young generation. His reward is in the visible fruits of his long and tireless toil for the cause, and in the knowledge that he is honoured and revered as the friend and saviour of the babies. Tens of thousands of young New Zealanders are, or have been Plunket babies. That is the wonderful fruit of the tiny beginning on the shore of Karitane.
The subject of thrift has, in modern times, evolved in its spirit as much as it has developed in its volume, states the “Birmingham Evening Despatch.” “Spare money,” it continues, “is saved to-day not so much in acquisitiveness without purpose except to acquire, as with a view to a fuller enjoyment of life in all its possibilities.
“Many now save considerable sums for the pleasure of spending the money on some quite legitimate form of enjoyment. The Railway companies now offer facilities to passengers to ‘save to spend’—in other words, begin to save for the next holiday as soon as the last one concludes.”
The “Save to Travel” stamps of the New Zealand Government Railways represent the most modern of these systems and increasing use is now made of this convenient method for ensuring a desired holiday.
(Thelma R. Kent, photo.)
Few New Zealanders know that in numbers we lead the whole world in the export of thoroughbred animals. Our totals, for instance, are six or seven times those of Great Britain, and often equal all the rest of the world. There are logical reasons for this unique position. It is a commonplace that animals from the Northern Temperate Zone improve in size and quality when they settle in New Zealand. The rich largesse of sunny skies, mild temperatures and ample rainfall, join with the gift of a soil which is the golden sand of fertility. Our country has been fashioned by Nature to be the ideal place on the earth's surface for the development of the best of every type of animal. This article proposes to show that our forebears recognised this wonder at a very early date, and will treat of the stupendous achievement already reached, and the glorious possibilities of the future.
Astately London weekly observed not so long ago, “Someone has said that the reading of detective stories is the recreation of all superior minds. On the contrary, if they were really superior, it would be their only occupation.” I know a better form of this indoor sport, and that is the study of the breeding of the thoroughbred. I do not limit the latter category to the thoroughbred horse, for the breeding of sheep, beef and dairy cattle, dogs and pigs, carries the same blend of crossword puzzle delight and high romance. To the theorist it is a recreation, but for the practical exponent it is another matter. The natural advantages of our country for this specific purpose are overwhelming, but the art or science of breeding depends finally on the skill of its practitioners, their fidelity to purpose and unswerving devotion. Our forebears brought all these qualities with them, and when our centennial year arrives, I believe that the brightest pages of our first century's history will be those that tell of the achievement of our studmasters.
Perhaps, too, by the time our year of celebration arrives, the thoroughbred industry will have had its share of practical encouragement, as has been lately done in Ireland, but even without further stimulus, its growth will continue. The extent, value and importance of our present exports of this category are not known or appreciated. Mr. Charles Robertson, New Zealands' best known figure in this
You will notice that this list does not include the New Zealand breeders of the thoroughbred horse, but the story of the English horse of to-day contains not only the whole romance of breeding, but also the main principles of its science.
As an old writer said: “The English thoroughbred horse is as little indebted for his excellent qualities to the native horse of our country, as are the present race of Englishmen to the Ancient Britons for their national character.” The evolution of the English running horse had started with Roman and Gothic crosses in the misty past. Athelstan, son of Alfred the Great, left horses by name in his will. King John and Edward I imported stallions, but it was not until the reign of James I that horse racing and its accompaniment, the study of breeding, came into its own. He bought the White Turk, and the Duke of Buckingham and the Helmsley Turk. Charles II bought many Eastern horses, but it was reserved for the time of Queen Anne not only to produce a golden age of literature, but to lay the foundation of the world supremacy of the English thoroughbred horse. It is a long story, but the magic fact remains that the whole English equine peerage traces its ancestry to three animals, the Darley Arabian, the Byerly Turk, and the Godoplhin Arabian. Families that are distinguishable have taken form among the descendants of this great trio and names such as Waxy, Orville, Buzzard, Blacklock, and Partisan, are among the early progenitors of aristocratic clans. It was the judicious crossing and intermingling of these lines of blood that was the study of those early studmasters, and its successful outcome created our modern speed machine, heightened the courage, increased the intelligence, and strengthened the stamina of the whole range of horses. For the benefit of lay readers, let me explain that “inbreeding” is the “pairing of animals within the relationship of second cousins,” and an examination shows that nearly all first-class racehorses unite the same strains of blood within that degree. “Crossbred” simply describes an animal that is not inbred (for four or five generations). Then here is a neat and very old explanation of another breeding problem. “If General
It was certain that in the purely British company of New Zealand pioneers, there would be many horse lovers. Within a decade, the importation of thoroughbreds from England and Australia was in full swing. It was our good fortune that in those days we had many men whose skill was undoubted, their vision clear, and their foresight almost uncanny. To them we largely owe our present proud position, for to-day New Zealand stands as almost the peer of the Motherland and has no superior elsewhere in the world. This ascendancy is mainly due, in my opinion, to our possession of maternal sire lines of surpassing variety and extraordinary richness. I like to think that it was distinctively characteristic of our New Zealand forebears that the first New Zealand Stud Book appeared within ten years of the establishment of horse-breeding, whereas in Australia half a century went by before there was any systematisation of records.
It is thrilling to read in a book made in Nelson over seventy years ago, the pedigree of Flora McIvor, of Stock-well, Sir Hercules and Traducer, and a dozen other kings and queens of the turf during their reigns, and a tabloid library of breeding wisdom. Names such as St. Hill, Harris and Innes, Captain Walmsley, Petre, Dillon, Redwood, Moorehouse, and Clifford are
In those days, too, times were being closely watched and tables in those yellowing pages show that the speed of colonial races was even then close to the best English standards. The actual times seem quaint to-day, Potentate at Nelson doing a mile and a half in 252, which was seconds faster than the Epsom Derby of the same year. The New Zealand-bred Phar Lap won the Derby in Melbourne and Sydney in a fraction over 2.31, and Wotan, the New Zealander who won the last Melbourne Cup clipped twenty-two seconds off the time and carried a stone more than The Barb, who won in 1866. The latter had beaten the 3,600 guinea colt Fishhook over six furlongs in 1.19 in 1866.
There is not space here to picture the giants who worked over the succeeding years to bring to perfection the New Zealand thoroughbred horse. Every year aristocratic sultans are imported, and throughout the history of our land our studmasters have shown increasing excellence of judgment and expert skill.
The sign and symbol of the success of the years gone by, combine in the Trentham (Wellington) annual yearling sales. These are conducted by the New Zealand firms of Wright, Stephenson, and Pyne, Gould, Guinness, in conjunction with the great Australian house of Inglis. Our picture shows Messrs. Charles Robertson and Derek Gould in the Rostrum. I predict that next January will see the record New Zealand sale of all time. For years past Trentham-sold youngsters have swept the rich prizes on both sides of the Tasman. This year will see a new crop or two, notably that of Beau Pere, and there will be the old reliables such as Hunting Song, Siegfried, Pink Coat, and a dozen others. But, whoever the sire may be, I want to reiterate that the New Zealand advantage always applies. This lies in our heritage of bloodstock built by our first forebears, improved by the devotion and skill of generations, and nurtured in a terrain which is matchless on the whole earth's surface for the growing of the thoroughbred aristocrat. Trentham yearling sales should have the attention of the whole Dominion focussed upon them, for they constitute a national event of vast importance.
Further, on the subject of horses, I expect most readers would get a surprise at the heavy list of Clydesdale breeders. This “best of all” farm horse has been produced by the same intensive breeding system as the racing and hunting thoroughbred. A great horse named “Baron's Pride” is the Byerly Turk or at least the St. Simon of this breed, and no less than ten crosses of his blood can be found in many pedigrees. New Zealand Clydesdale studs rejoice in a plentiful ownership of this strain, our studmasters continually replenish with imported champions, and our Clydesdales are of world parity.
As you will have seen, stud flocks in New Zealand of all classes of sheep, are numbered by the thousand. As a news item, I suppose the most dramatic happening in this sector of the breeding front was the creation here of a new breed, a new type of sheep, the far-famed Corriedale. Mr. James Little, grandfather of the present studmaster, perfected and stabilised this useful new animal, and New Zealand Corriedales now go to all pastoral countries in the world and bring the most amazing prices. In South America in particular, from Ecuador to Patagonia, “Hui Hui” and “Glenorchy” are household names.
Closely approximating the Corriedale in New Zealand distinctiveness are our Lincolns and Romneys. I saw
“The Empire's Dairy Farm,” as New Zealand has been so long called, naturally pays attention to bloodstock among its milking cattle, and the figures of the recognised stud herds of Jerseys, Friesians, Ayrshire and Milking Shorthorn are most imposing. World champions have arisen here and our standard rises every year.
But it is in the region of beef cattle that the most fascinating narrative emerges. The importation of the great “Royal Gem” from Canada, by Mr. Humphreys of Ngatapa (with the assistance of the ubiquitous Mr. Charles Robertson) founded the great innovation in beef cattle—the hornless, or polled Hereford. This bull was the “Musket” of this breed, but there are many fine stud herds now, as well as those of the horned Hereford. Also there are the Aberdeen Angus and the Shorthorn which have become so prominent since the advent of chilled beef. The mating of these two produces the famous “Scots Greys.” We have in New Zealand the largest stud herd of Aberdeen Angus in the Southern Hemisphere, and we must not forget either that double utility animal, the Red Poll.
Is it any wonder that stock buying experts come to New Zealand continually from all parts of the world? Without being invidious, I may single out for notice Mr. Charles Robertson as the most efficient publicist, general adviser, technician and guide on this sector of the export front. He has been on the job for fifteen years, and before that was an editor of a farming paper. His enthusiasm is almost of the religious order, and his world travelling puts him in the human encyclopaedia class. Other great firms have their departments also to attend to this rapidly expanding industry.
But whether we go back to the past, to our unique feat of producing Trenton and Carbine, the latter to go to England to re-establish winning families, Sir Modred to leave his mark in U.S.A.; or our production of Phar Lap; whether we turn to the marvel of the world popularity of our thoroughbred cattle and sheep of every kind and type; whether we count our great institutions such as Massey and Lincoln Colleges and the practical and scientific training given in many High Schools; whether we point with pride to the great business organisations that have grown to meet the countless
(Photo., courtesy “N.Z. Farmer.”)
December! The season of sorcery, the birth of mirth; the witching weft of wizardry—the month of miracles
For the age of miracles is not past. In December the magic of the month works miracles in the minds of men and—lo!—where there was moth and rust there is mirth and roist, where there was drudgery there is drollery, where there was “pip” there is “pep.” The heart bowed down is buoyed up, the lame-in-spirit shake a leg, the “broke” are mended, the “groper” is a flying-fish, the down-hearted are upended, and over the face of nature is spread a smile that hurries on from horizon to horizon. Human capacity for food and frivolity extends beyond belief. Throat and heart are opened to give and to receive.
What is this magic that has bewitched the minds of men so that their eyes are opened and they see that there's wisdom in folly and rebirth in revelry?
If your blood-pressure is so high that it blows off your hat, if your heart feels as strong as a sailor's thirst, if your head is as light as Bluebeard's love, if your temperature singes your eyebrows—don't rush to a doctor! It isn't appendicitis or peritonitis or liveritis, it's Yuletitis. If your pulse dances to a hot harmony jazzed on your heart with a goose's “drumstick,” if your red corpuscles are telegraph boys on motor cycles whisking tempestuous tidings from soul to soles, if your whole interior is a cauldron of simmering sunshine—soup from hat-hanger to trotter-cases—don't be anxious! Your condition is not serious; it calls for levity rather than gravity. You are elated, inflated, and all “lit” up. You have been bitten by the bug of ballyhoo; you glow with frivolity, you burn with the fever of folly, like a fire-fly with heartburn. You will do things that are sanely mad and things that are madly sane. You will commit all those wise futilities that familiarly never stales. You will undo all the futile expediencies that familiarity has staled beyond belief. You will unship the shackles of “shop” and shake a leg into the wide open spaces. You will kick carping Care into the middle of next January. You will challenge the Demon Dyspepsia with “eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we diet.” You will over-eat and under-sleep. You will be unwise, but happy. You will send all the wrong gifts to the right people, and will receive even as you give.
And, of course, there will be a picnic on Boxing Day. No, no! We said a picnic—IN A TRAIN; not one of those home-away-from-home excursions, in a car, where you take gas-lamps and folding chairs and collapsible tables, and everything except the piano. We mean a PICNIC—a good, old-fashioned, back-to-nature, lunch-with-the-twigs-in, smoke-in-the-tea, free-for-all, smash-and-grab excursion. We mean the sort of picnic where father carries a bag with the blunt end of a lunch-sausage protruding from one end and Winnie's water-wings and Annabelle's striped bathing suit from the other. We mean the sort of picnic where little Sebastian carries the kettle indifferently concealed in newspaper; where Uncle Henry watches, with loving care, a bundle of rugs with something hidden in its core that clinks; where mother carries a biscuit-tin under one arm and the Infant Samuel under the other. Where Aunt Hettie remembers that it was at just such a picnic as this that she met Uncle Henry, and Uncle Henry looks at her as though he would say, “Why remind us of that on such a nice day?”
We mean the type of picnic at which all the things happen which have endeared picnics to us from time immemorial. We expect the Infant Samuel's rusks to be left in the train, and we expect the Infant Samuel to sit up and take vocal notice. We expect father to lead us—even as the Israelites were led—to the “Ideal Spot.” Ten minutes later we expect to be expelled from the “Ideal Spot” by mosquitoes and to be conducted by mother to another spot not nearly so “ideal”—but much pleasanter. We expect father and Uncle Henry to disappear into the scrub with the bundle of rugs that clinks, and to emerge twenty minutes later with four sticks of firewood in their arms and an expression of profound content on their faces.
And we shan't be disappointed if we do the thing properly and leave all gadgets and thingamybobs at home and boil the billy over the traditional fire. For the fire is the soul of the picnic. Every father has always known where and how the perfect picnic-fire should be lit—and every mother has always advised better places and better methods of lighting it. From a nest of seed-cake and sandwiches she has never failed to broadcast sound advice on ways and means of producing the Ideal Fire. It must have been primitive woman who discovered fire in the first place. But father affects deafness. “Sebastian!” he orders. “Fetch four big stones. No—not those. We're building a fire, not a business block. Norman!” he shouts. “The sticks!” and “Winnie, take your rubber duck out of the kettle at once.”
“I would build it against the log,” pipes mother.
“Who's making this fire?” asks father. “Draught is what I'm after—natural draught. You won't be able to get near it in a moment.”
To cut a long and painful story short, the wood will not burn, the kettle falls into the ruins, Sebastian gets his ear thumped, Winnie is accused of sabotage, and then it is discovered that Uncle Henry has boiled the billy down by the river. But of such stuff are real dyed-in-the-wool picnics made. No picnic is a picnic if father doesn't dive into the river and strike his head on a stone, if Sebastian doesn't sit in the jam, if a bull doesn't look threateningly over a gate, and a bee doesn't sting Auntie. No picnic is worthy of storing in the Museum of Memory unless we return by train with our noses peeled, lumps on our legs—tired, relaxed, languid and lulled on comfortable seats. Yes, siree! That's a picnic.
(W. W. Stewart collection).
By day a string of ill-assorted wagons; at night a glaring head-light and a procession of dark monstrosities. So the goods train.
Contrasted with the symmetrical swiftness of the express, the goods train is drab, work-a-day, yet she has a glamour of her own when one learns of the work entailed in her making. Her making is the story of the coordination of the efforts of the community to transport the country's goods.
The first place to which one goes to learn of the railway goods service is, of course, the goods shed. But, perhaps, to-day the word “shed” is a misnomer—so far as the Wellington shed is concerned. The huge concrete building is far from being a mere shed. Inside is the same platform as of old, but vastly enlarged, ample railway tracks, and an overhead travelling electric crane. Into the building road vehicles drive to discharge their loads, under cover and in comfort, either directly into railway wagons or on to the platform, as circumstances decree.
And the loads entrusted to the “goods”! “Everything for everywhere” would be as good a description as any. It is a bewildering assortment that a busy city sends to the goods shed every day. A bundle of pipes for some wayside station, a truck of fruit for a thriving mid-country centre, a load of someone's treasured furniture, a case of crockery, in fact, everything the community can transport. Throughout every day the varied consignments arrive at the shed in a constant stream, and no two days are alike excepting, paradoxically, that they are always changing. Every consignor is keenly interested in the prompt movement of his own lot—the goods service must be interested in all, rigidly adhering to timetable yet treating each consignment as though it were the only one requiring attention.
With an air of dumb patience the railway wagons stand in the shed arranged in the order in which they will eventually travel. To each wagon goes the loadings for the station for which the wagon is allocated. Checked and signed for, each loading is then attended to by the “stowers.” Expert men these, whose work ensures that the goods in the wagon shall not shift during transit. A load moving about in a wagon travelling through the country at thirty miles an hour might do more than a little damage! Stations which do not require a wagon to themselves are catered for, in the case of those nearer the consigning point, by wagons designated “road-siders.” These wagons take consignments for the smaller stations and travel on passenger trains as well as by goods train. Small stations further afield have their loadings attended to by wagons which will be sorted for distribution at larger stations near the final destination.
A goods shed, however, is not the only care of the goods service. Certainly, it handles an average of two hundred tons of miscellaneous goods per day, but even so it is but a part of the work. At a siding outside the shed a travelling steam crane deals with anything too heavy for the electric crane in the shed, and with the motor cars which go forward by rail. Again, the loadings differ each day. Some days there will be no consignments coming under the heading
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Comes the end of the day, and those wagons in the shed which have not gone forward earlier are finally prepared for their journeyings. Open wagons are carefully sheeted with heavy tarpaulins, checked by means of a painted mark on the pillars of the shed to ensure ample clearance in tunnels, doors of box wagons are secured, and all are taken to be marshalled with their brothers from siding and wharf to form a goods train.
The work is not yet finished, however. Throughout the day a clerical staff has been preparing waybills and keeping a careful check on the weights loaded. In addition, the wagons from the wharf have been weighed, and thus the exact tonnage to be hauled is known. The locomotive people are concerned now. What engine power are they providing? Perhaps it's an “Ab” which will haul 310 tons, or a “K” which will “walk away with 490.” According to tonnage, so engine power is arranged. Sometimes one engine of either class will do the job; sometimes a double-header train (two engines) will go; and if the tonnage requires it, a complete extra train will be sent. As the daily circumstances arise, so are they met.
And all the while the same service has been exactly reversing the process with goods travelling in the opposite direction. The shed has handled all the inward goods for the city, while wagon loads of exports have been placed, at the exact times required by the consignees, in the exact position required by the ships which will take those exports overseas.
The next time a goods train rattles past, forget her unloveliness, and speculate on the varied contents of her wagons which have an equally varied destination. Remember she is not “only a goods,” she is performing work as important as that of any train.
Bethlehem is far away.
(H. C. Peart photo.)
When the Englishman came to New Zealand nearly a century ago for the purpose of colonisation, he brought with him the printing press and the materials necessary for the publishing of a newspaper. The newspaper had become even by then so great a factor in his life that he felt himself unable to live without it.
The first thirty years of colonisation saw the rise and fall of a large number of newspapers, especially in Auckland and Wellington. Most of these early journals were without any literary qualities and were, in the main, merely weapons in the stormy political fights that were waged in the colony in the 'forties and 'fifties of last century. The disputes between the New Zealand Company and the British and Colonial Governments led to stirring times for the press in Wellington, which not only assailed the Administration, which was situated in the north, but the northern colonists and press as well. The quarter-deck manner of Governor Hobson and Lieutenant Willoughby Shortland was in large measure the cause of the forming in the north of an anti-Government faction, which had its own newspapers, and was just as violent as that in the south. These papers usually assailed the Administration with such gusto that the authorities deemed it expedient to take extreme measures for their suppression.
In his “Story of New Zealand,” published in 1859, Dr. A. S. Thomson, surgeon-major of the 58th Regiment, says: “All the papers in the colony were in the habit of using strong language; indeed, savage scurrility supplied the place of wit, and harshness of expression the want of keenness. Many articles were actuated by personal feelings, but as some excuse for this state of affairs it is to be remembered that the press was the only check the people had on their rulers.” The measures at times taken to suppress the freedom of the press were such that they would be impossible under present day conditions.
In this article it is intended to give a summary of the newspapers which existed at the Bay of Islands and Auckland prior to 1870, the year in which the city's present evening paper was founded.
The earliest newspaper to be published at the Bay of Islands was the “New Zealand Advertiser and Bay of Islands Gazette,” which made its appearance as a weekly in June, 1840, about six months after the establishment of the colony. It was published by G. A. Eagar and Co., at Kororareka. It will be noticed that in many cases those responsible for the naming of the early journals had a partiality for long names. The “Advertiser” had the distinction of being the second newspaper to be issued in the colony. The first was the “New Zealand Gazette,” issued at Wellington in April, 1840.
(W. W. Stewart collection).
The late Dr. T. M. Hocken has described the North's first journal in the following words: “The Rev. B. Quaife was editor—a Congregational minister and a gentleman who, in addition to his editorial functions, combined those of a preacher and an instructor of the young. Whilst the contents of his paper were as might be expected eminently respectable, they were undoubtedly poor. The burning question of the hour was the land claims, which bore a somewhat different aspect from the same question amongst the settlers at Wellington. But in both instances the common ground of complaint was that the Government refused to recognise the validity of any purchase of land from the natives until official enquiry had been made and a Government grant issued—a tedious and expensive process indeed. Whilst this grievance was attacked in the distant South with the utmost vigour and acerbity, in the North it was approached with great circumspection, for there the Government was close by and its iron hand was felt at once…. The land question proved the absorbing theme to which all others were subsidiary and it, and the native connection with it, formed almost the sole politics of daily discussion. Not for long did, or could, Mr. Quaife avoid it, especially as other matters of perhaps more domestic concern, such as the police and the post office, were shamefully mismanaged. So, like the proverbial moth, he circled nearer and nearer to his doom, and after the issue of his twenty-seventh number on 10th December, which contained various moderate suggestions for reform, he was peremptorily directed to appear before Mr. Shortland, the Colonial Secretary, and threatened with all the pains and penalties of an old New South Wales Act regarding the
Neither Captain Hobson or Lieutenant Shortland were by their training able to tolerate anything approaching insubordination, and the following statement which appeared in the “Advertiser” would have been more than sufficient to condemn it in their eyes: “There are police officers whose chief business is to act in defiance of the law they are sworn to maintain and defend.” In a circular dated 15th December the proprietors said: “One thing has become manifest, the Government of the British Colony of New Zealand does not wish a free press, while, on the other hand, our feeling is—A FREE PRESS OR NONE AT ALL.”
The Government, however, found it necessary to have a paper for the publishing of its notifications. The result was the appearance on 30th December, 1840, of the Gazette Extraordinary. It was printed at the Church Missionary Society's printing office at Paihia. The reason given for its birth was that the “Advertiser” had declined to publish any advertisement for the Government. The fact that a newspaper chose to decline good money in this way is some indication of the bitterness of feeling that existed at the time towards the Administration. With the second number the name was changed to the “New Zealand Government Gazette.” Nineteen numbers had been published when on 7th July, 1841, it was superseded at Auckland by the first issue of a new series, the forerunner of the present Government “Gazette,” which is thus the oldest journal in the Dominion, being ninety-five years of age. Moreover seven years ago the Full Court gave as its considered opinion that the “New Zealand Gazette” is legally a newspaper.
Of the early issues Dr. Hocken says: “From internal evidence I am inclined to think that the printer of the crushed ‘Advertiser’ was employed, and that he was permitted to make the best private use of the paper after satisfying official requirements. Comical juxtapositions thus happened—private advertisements for lodgings, salt beef, and other merchandise displayed on the same page as those signed by His Excellency's command; and in addition there were a few items of news. It was published gratis, which, remembering the mode in which it rose from the ashes of its predecessor, seems enough.” Dr. Thomson writes in a similar strain: “It was partly official and partly not, although there was often difficulty in detecting which was which, and some of the articles were curious compositions for a paper ‘published by authority’.”
“The Bay of Islands Examiner” had also been started as a weekly about the same time as the “Advertiser.” It ceased publication some time the following year.
Meanwhile Mr. Quaife had not been inactive. He re-appears as one of the promoters of a company formed to protect the interests of the public from the “continuous misrule and indifference of the Government.” In furtherance of this purpose the “Bay of Islands Observer” appeared on 24th February, 1842. The price per copy was a shilling and the charge for twelve lines of advertisement three shillings and six pence. “Mr. Quaife, who was again editor,” says Dr. Hocken, “no longer approached abuses in a gentle indirect manner, but handled them with so much candour and bluntness as to find himself and his company in danger of an action for libel, which was averted only by humble confession and apology.” A little later—in October—“The Observer” ceased to exist, deploring as it died the little aid it had received from subscribers and the public.
The last of the early papers in the far North was the “Bay of Islands Advocate,” another weekly, which appeared on 4th November, 1843, price one shilling. It succumbed after three months.
To come now to Auckland itself. The first of the city's many newspapers was the “New Zealand Herald and Auckland Gazette,” the first issue
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The services of Dr. Martin, a medical man of considerable literary ability, who was at the time in Sydney, were procured. He, however, owing to having a grudge against the Government over the land question, wrote in so violent a manner that there was little chance of the journal surviving his appointment for long. Indeed within the first two months he had been threatened two or three times with actions for libel. The climax came when Mr. Fitzgerald, a Government official, seized from the printer under pains and penalties some of the editor's manuscripts. Having failed to secure the return of his property, Dr. Martin thereupon challenged Mr. Fitzgerald to a duel. The challenge was declined, and in the midst of the tumult Auckland's first newspaper came to an end in April, 1842, after an existence of only ten months. The whole of the company's plant was bought by the Government for £1,700. It remained, however, under the management of Mr. Moore, and a week later saw the birth of the “Auckland Standard,” issued presumably in the interests of the Government. The editor was Mr. William Swainson, who had come to the colony as Attorney-General. The “Standard” fared no better than its predecessor, and after four months' struggle it ceased publication on 28th August, 1842.
The next paper to appear was the “Auckland Times,” owned and edited by Mr. Henry Falwasser. The first issue appeared on 5th September, 1842, and was printed by Mr. Moore on the Government press. But before three months had elapsed Lieutenant Shortland, then Acting-Governor, stepped in and stopped the publication. Mr. Falwasser, however, was not to be beaten, and gathering together all the old type which he could find he continued, with the aid of a mangle and coarse paper, to bring out his paper every week. It has been said that he once started a leading article in “canon” and ended it in “nonpareil,” after having gone through his whole assortment of “founts.” In one of its leading articles the “Times” denounced the Administration for having attempted to destroy the liberties of the press by monopolising certain plant and type, thereby reducing Mr. Falwasser to great extremity. The imprint of the paper contained the words “printed in a mangle.”
To quote Dr. Hocken once again: “It is plain from the specimens that the compression of the mangle varied very much; sometimes it was so violent as to drive the ink through the paper so that the letterpress can be read by reversal, and sometimes it was so faint as to be barely legible. Words were printed with letters of various type so that capitals, italics, and old English met together in the same word, producing a most comical and mystifying result. If not a confusion of tongues it was certainly a confusion of letters. Of course, the paper afforded great amusement and doubtless had a good circulation especially as it lashed out to the complete satisfaction of the public. Its comical characteristics and scanty pages no doubt protected it from the fiery persecution of those days, especially as the numbers were issued gratis until, as the editor assured his readers, proper type and paper could be procured from Sydney. But gradually its strange appearance improved with the occasional addition of a little newfound type, better paper, and better handling of the mangle until in its forty-second number, on 13th April, 1843, it said farewell in quite a presentable form.” The new material arrived in due course from Sydney and in November the paper was revived and continued to flourish until the death of Mr. Falwasser in January, 1846.
At intervals in the course of its career the “Times” had a spirited rival in the “Auckland Chronicle and New Zealand Colonist.” The first number was issued on 8th November, 1841. It suspended publication the same year, but was revived in October, 1842, only to disappear again in July, 1843. It made a third appearance a short time later, and finally died in 1845. It was printed by Mr. Moore in the interests of the Government. The “Times” referred to it as “that administerial thing called the ‘Chronicle’—bah!” The “Chronicle” retaliated by calling its rival “the Old Lady of the Mangle,” and by advertising “For sale, a mangle, apply to the proprietor of the ‘Auckland Times’.”
The “Southern Cross” in its first issue had the following biting reference to the “Chronicle”: “For sale or hire, in about a fortnight, a defunct Government engine used for stifling the fire of people; rather shaky, having lately stuck fast in the swamp of Queen Street…. Has been well greased lately, its head turning with marvellous facility in any direction. Apply at the ‘Chronicle’ office.”
A Maori publication, “Te Karere O Niu Tireni,” had a life of nearly four years. It was first issued on 1st January, 1842, and died towards the close of 1845.
(Photo. J. D. Buckley.)
(W. W. Stewart collection).
We now come to two papers much superior in standard to those that we have so far referred to. Dr. Martin, after his connection with the “Herald” had been severed, became indignant and took steps to secure another press and a supply of type. On 22nd April, 1843, there appeared the “Southern Cross, New Zealand Guardian, and Auckland, Thames and Bay of Islands Advertiser.” Its proprietor was Mr. William Brown, the partner of Dr. (afterwards Sir) John Logan Campbell. The name, or at least the first portion, by which the paper became known, was suggested by Dr. Campbell while sitting with his partner in his home, “Acacia Cottage,” from the name of an hotel in Adelaide at which he had stayed a year or two previously.
In 1844, Mr. Brown, accompanied by Dr. Martin, left on a visit to England and Dr. Campbell was left in charge of the paper. The loss on it was so great that he ceased publication in April of the following year. Upon Mr. Brown's return to the colony in July, 1847, the paper was revived and was destined to become the first daily newspaper in the Auckland province. The initial issue of the “Daily Southern Cross” appeared on 20th May, 1862. The paper was shortly afterwards sold to Sir Julius Vogel and his company. The amount which Mr. Brown is said to have lost in connection with the paper is £10,000. The “Daily Southern Cross” continued to be published regularly until the end of 1876, when it was purchased by Mr. A. G. Horton and amalgamated with the “New Zealand Herald,” the city's present morning journal. Dr. Martin did not return to the colony.
The other paper which showed that a higher standard of journalism had been atttained in the colony was the “New Zealander,” which commenced as a weekly, priced sixpence, on 7th June, 1845, just after the temporary cessation of the “Southern Cross.” It was owned by Mr. John Williamson, who was later to enter into partnership with Mr. W. C. Wilson. By 1859 the “New Zealander” had become the leading newspaper in the colony. The list of its many noted editors and contributors include the names of Dr. Bennett, the father of the present Bishop Bennett, Dr. D. Pollen, who in 1875 became Premier, the Rev. T. S. Forsaith, of “clean shirt ministry” fame, Dr. R. B. Kidd, the first headmaster of the Auckland Grammar School, Sir John Gorst, and Dr. J. Giles, who until his death a few years ago was a frequent contributor to the correspondence columns of the “New Zealand Herald.” The “New Zealander” was issued as a daily on 1st January, 1863, and the same year Messrs. Williamson and Wilson dissolved partnership, and Mr. Williamson carried on the paper, with Mr. G. M. Main as printer and publisher. Later Messrs. Mitchell and Seffern took it over, and on 3rd April, 1865, brought it out as the first penny newspaper in New Zealand. At the end of the same year the paper was transferred back to Mr. Williamson, who reduced its issues to two a week, and the following year it ceased publication.
In announcing the change of management which occurred in 1865 the “New Zealander” said: “It is with Auckland that our interests and our sympathies are linked, and our ambition will be satisfied if we can do somewhat to assist the progress of the finest province in the finest island in the Southern Hemisphere.” At the time feeling between the North and the South was running very high, and the southern colonists doubtlessly thought that the “Aucklander” would have been a more fitting name than the “New Zealander,” especially as the paper was vigorously espousing the agitation for the political separation of the North from the South.
An incident which occurred in the course of the life of the “New Zealander” illustrates some of the difficulties under which our pioneer journalists had to work. A contributed article relating to the fighting at Gate Pa, gave considerable offence to the naval men stationed at Auckland, who
Esk. They were armed with a strong hawser and this they passed in a front upstairs window, through the building, out a window at the back and over the roof to the front again. The sailors then demanded a complete retraction of the offending statement, failing which they threatened to overturn the building. It has often been stated that the sailors were successful in securing an apology. This, however, was not the case. A compromise was effected by the editor agreeing to publish the sailors' version of the disputed incident. A signed statement was accordingly supplied and the publication of this was the only approach to an apology that the paper made.
The “New Zealander” can claim the distinction of having introduced the steam-driven printing press to the colony. In its issue of 9th February, 1861—the first to be printed by steam—it said: “We are happy to say that the alteration from manual to steam power will enable us to throw off any quantity of impressions with the utmost facility and expediency.” The engine was of only two horse power, but it was a big improvement upon Falwasser's mangle. A comparison with the present day efficient cable service is afforded by the fact that the latest overseas intelligence in the issue of the “New Zealander” for 28th August, 1847, was dated 1st March.
The number of short-lived journals between 1850 and 1870 is surprisingly large. A list of these has been placed on record by Mr. G. M. Main. The “Anglo-Maori Warder” commenced a brief existence in April, 1848. In January, 1849, “Ko te Karere Maori” was published by the Government in English and Maori for circulation among t