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The New Zealand Railways Magazine is on sale through the principal book-sellers, 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.
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I hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose that the circulation of the “New Zealand Railways Magazine” has not been less than 24,000 copies each issue since April, 1938.
Controller and Auditor-General.
10/11/38.
Thelma R. Kent, photo.)
Lake McKenzie, Southland, South Island, New Zealand.
(Photo., J. D. Pascoe.)
This is the time of year when the spirit of thankfulness and good-fellowship has the freest play, and one thing that New Zealanders can be truly thankful for is that they have the good fortune to live on the choicest portion of this lovely world.
Looking at matters globularly, instead of nationally or internationally—a perfectly reasonable thing to do seeing that the world was here before we were—it can be seen that the lower half of the globe is the happier half, and that is not necessarily because there is more water in it. But the modifying effect on climate of so much sea has doubtless much to do with the more genial and tolerant natures of our southern peoples.
The attitude of the south is expansive in the true spirit of Christmas—it would make all the world its friend. It sees that, just as supreme art of any kind is appreciated the world over, and as some universal epidemic—the measles or the “fluzols”—makes the whole world kin, so at rock-bottom all mankind is just one form of life on this planet of the sun, and might better be happy than miserable, healthy than sick, helpful than hindering, friendly than hating, during the little span of life allowed to each.
There is more than humour in the two schools of philosophy lately evolved here—the compulsory astronomists and the compulsory micronomists—one school holding that if people were forced to see how small the world is in relation to the universe they would not feel so self-important; the other believing that when men realise how large they are in comparison with the infinitely smaller and lower forms of life, and how great are their opportunities, they will be big enough to give the rest of their fellows a chance.
The true exponents of these philosophies pay tribute to the loveliness of this world. They know that it becomes lovelier as the days go by, and that human senses are becoming more appreciative of the exquisite joys the world has to offer, taking the place of those grotesque terrors which arose from ignorance and oppression in the past.
Consider the sense of motion, a sense that has developed more in recent years than those of taste, smell, touch, hearing or sight. This sense has been with us from the time the monkey fell from the tree, followed right along through the rocking-cradle and rocking-horse stages and has seen us down to the old rocking-chair. But now we outfly the fastest bird, and anything that lets us cover more ground or sea or air with speed and ease is a perpetual source of interest and delight.
In all ways we contrive to beat nature. Our machines over-power the strongest elephant, our artists outpaint the fairest flower, whilst our buildings are more architecturally sound than the Alps.
The spirit of Christmas lies in giving; but all life consists in givings and doings which, under the universal law of compensation, are balanced by receiving—and enjoying. As man is naturally a very active fellow and the making of things his chief artistic outlet, the doer and the giver have the best of this lovely world in the long run.
With the approach of the festive season the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways, desires me to again express to all members of the Service, to all clients of the Department, and to all readers of the Magazine, his best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a bright and prosperous New Year.
In associating myself with the Hon. Minister in these seasonable greetings and good wishes, I would like to add that much of the pleasure of the Christmas period lies in the opportunities presented for maintaining the traditional family reunions which do so much to hold together the bonds and sustain the joy of home life. In the movement of the people throughout the festive season the Railways are called upon, year after year, to do the major portion of this work, and the spirit and efficiency in which this is done are important contributing factors to the happiness of the principal vacation period of the year.
The personal feature of our service is a most important one, and the present is an appropriate occasion on which to remind all members of the staff who come into direct contact with the public how much their attitude towards the customers of the Department can do to help in maintaining that spirit of happiness with which the Christmas season is so conspicuously associated.
Courtesy at all times in dealing with their many phases of contact with the public, accuracy in the supply of information, and care in the handling of luggage, are matters which members of the Service should constantly keep in mind, even in the busiest moments of the holiday season, in order that the good name of the Department, and its personnel, for transport efficiency may be upheld and enhanced.
In particular I would ask for every consideration to be extended towards the elderly and the infirm, and that special thought and attention should be given to mothers travelling with young children.
By doing these things which mean so much for the comfort and enjoyment of those who entrust themselves to our care, members will not only be carrying out their obvious duty towards the travelling public, but will also be adding to their own happiness and materially assisting towards that truly Christmas spirit which the Minister and Management desire to see reflected throughout the Service.
General Manager.
The New Zealand version of “Great Oaks From Little Acorns Grow,” is that trees mature here in ten years; they grow up in a third of the time taken in any other country. By way of coincidence, “The Railways Magazine” is a month or two older than twelve years, and it has indubitably grown up completely. It was a slender but healthy sapling when it was first planted in the thick foliage of New Zealand's magazine shrubbery, and since 1st May, 1926, it has followed our country's best characteristics in the matter of speed of growth and development.
I have spent mornings of close research lately which topped off years of browsing through back numbers. This article will endeavour to give a little of the history of “the Railways Magazine,” which I find, by the simple process of inspection and comparison with others of a similar type published in other parts of the world, can be said, in all modesty, to be the best Railway magazine published anywhere.
The green - covered bound volume of the first year of “The New Zealand Railways Magazine,” 1926–1927, reposes in a glass windowed set of book-shelves on the fourth floor of the splendid new Wellington Railway Station Building. All the staff of the Railways Publicity Department must be poets—they cannot help it. From their windows there is a daily scene of matchless rhythm, colour, movement, mystery and magic. Here every day is the spectacle of the friendly and docile powers of the mighty mechanisms of transport bringing joy, comfort and usefulness to the lives of humans.
The deep blue of the electric multiple-unit, the warm red of the rail-car, the innumerable red-brown shades of the carriages and wagons, the shining black and red of the locomotives, white smoke plumes, shimmering hazes of vapour—all these are colourful manifestations of the majesty of harnessed forces; but, by way of a prodigal helping of pigments, there are the clothes of the moving crowd, an intricate and changing kaleidoscope; the blue pianore of the skipping two-year-old off for a holiday; the black bowler and grey suit of “Dad” coming back from his business trip; white summer sports suits; frocks of every hue; and travelling bags of even more colour variety. It is a ceaseless, bank-to-bank torrent of folks streaming along the platforms, forming swirling pools in the concourse, assembling, thinning and breaking into winding rivulets taking their way out and in, and always and ever with a surface gleam common to all. This comes from the cheeriness born of travel, a sort of joyous Oversoul. If you do not believe that a K loco, can smile, watch him on a sunny day as he comes to rest at Platform Number 9 and sees the gay crowds hurrying by.
However, for the reason which shows that we humans have not learned final wisdom in spending our daytime hours, the Magazine staff do not stand draped about the windows looking out; they plug along steadily “getting out” “The Railways Magazine.” When I took the first small green volume out of its shelf I could not help casting back in my mind to the place where it had been originally planned and made—the annexe to the old Head Office building. Then came a move to the wooden building which now houses part of the Air Department; some of the later
The first editorial is worth quoting. I wish I could use it all, as a small masterpiece of condensation: “The other day we had the pleasure of a trial run on one of the Department's new power units. There was a strong team of experts aboard to watch proceedings, besides a Driver to make it go, and a Fireman to keep it going. Notes were taken of its appearance, comfort and equipment and stop-watches were out to time the speed up-hill, down dale, and on the level. By the end of the run, there was nothing about that outfit which had not been discovered, discussed, dissected, praised, passed or condemned.”
The editor anticipates the same sort of scrutiny and says: “We therefore hasten, while eyes are turned our way, to paint, in prime colours on the billboard, a list of purposes for which the paper has been created and of principles upon which it will be run.”
It is worth while mentioning here that every issue of the magazine, without exception, has carried an editorial from the same clear pen, and in the workshop of letters, the pen is the working tool of a mind. These editorials, adapted and collected, would make a first-class treatise, not only on the utilitarian philosophy of a transport system, but also on the operative principles of fellowship in industrial organisation.
However, the twelve annual volumes have a remarkable content, apart from the editorials. If by some holocaust, all the printed matter in New Zealand except these volumes of “The Railways Magazine” were obliterated, the historian of the future would still be able to get a reasonably complete picture of the settlement and development of New Zealand, and an adequate idea of how we worked and lived in the twentieth century.
Rly. Publicity photo.)
July, 1937, issue. The arrival of His Excellency, the Governor-General, Viscount Galway, (centre right) to perform the opening ceremony at Wellington New Station. With him are the Hon. D. G. Sullivan (left) and Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager (right).
Next I was struck with an article on “Poster Originality,” by the late Stanley Davis, who wrote nearly as well as he drew. It started: “Develop originality and you will be locked up.” This beloved artist had more than local fame. One New York visitor took his poster “Life” all the way back to the States to enshrine it in the well-known Brooklyn collection of great posters. His famous cover design showing the contour of New Zealand taking shape in the midst of a Rugby crowd, was rated by Charles H. Dickson, Art Editor of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, as “the best poster in a decade.” The tradition of Stanley Davis is still preserved in the striking cover designs which make the magazine shine out like a jewel on the news-stands.
By the way, I must not forget to record that in the second issue, 1st June, 1926, the “Wit and Humour” feature came into being to “stay put” till this day, forming a reliable source of pilfering for the after-dinner speaker. The first joke printed in the paper
In the October issue, 1926, there is a picture giving a curious flash-back on the eternal patience in experiment of the railways engineering designers. It shows the “Clayton” steam rail-car on the Kurow branch, and the caption says: “The car, which seats 56 passengers, is proving very popular with the travelling public.”
In the December number of the same year, there is a striking picture of the Railways and Publicity Departments’ exhibit at the Palmerston North Show. The tenth issue of the magazine, however, showed the pace that was on in the evolution of the new periodical. The issue of 27th February, 1927, celebrated the visit of our present King and Queen, then the Duke and Duchess of York. The four-colour cover design is a masterpiece of original symbolism, and the letterpress was of such strength and value that it was used in schools all over the Dominion. There was a logical outline of British history; an illustrated tabloid series of biographies of outstanding British sovereigns from Alfred the Great to King George V; a series of little biographies, of the Empire's great statesmen; a remarkable literary survey, “Britain's Pageant of Prose and Poetry.” Another article was an eclectic summary of reformers, soldiers, scientists and thinkers who had moulded the Anglo-Saxon Commonwealth. It was a great effort. It was a fitting prelude to a happy visit in which our Royal kinsmen had nothing but praise for the perfection of railway transport arrangements. The magazine, too, did not leave its readers in doubt on this point.
The Editor opened the second year (issue of April, 1927) with this: “In stoking up for the second year's run of our magazine, the question of fuel, its choice, quality, weight, power and source, calls for more than passing attention.” Evidence of scientific and purposeful management on these lines is soon plain. The first London Letter appeared in May, 1927, and since that time, Mr. A. L. Stead has delivered, every month, an interesting, brightly written, succinct and newsy article on the latest developments in railway matters in the older lands of the Northern Hemisphere. By way of implementing my claim that these volumes contain a broad panorama of people and events in New Zealand I will mention odds and ends of gatherings I made as I prowled through the early issues.
Photo. L. Hinge)
October, 1928, issue. The “Southern Cross” surrounded by the enthusiastic crowd which welcomed the late Sir Chas. Kingsford Smith at Sockburn on the morning of 11th September, 1928, after the first crossing of the Tasman Sea by air.
There is a delighted letter from the great Paderewski, who travelled New Zealand in a Railways Department private car. In the letter is a phrase that should be adopted by local patriots, “You have not one place that is not beautiful.” On the 1st March, 1928, Mr. G. G. Stewart, the Editor, gave a radio lecture at 2Ya on railway matters, and I for one would not have thought that radio had been with us for more than a decade.
In the October issue of 1927, the first double-page spread appeared of the proposed new Auckland Railway Station. Foreshadowings of the imposing project had been seen before, but this was the first convincing illustration.
Perhaps one of the most exciting debuts of 1928 was that of Mr. Ken Alexander, whose illustration of the “Railsitter” in the December number was a choice sample of this profuse and facile humourist's torrent of quips and whimsies. It is the description of the purchase and trial of a motor car for a holiday trip, and concludes with the solemnly stated moral, “Travel by rail and put your surplus in the bank.”
Early in 1927, James Cowan's “Romance of the Rail,” previously written for The Railways Department, was commenced in serial form. Only this doyen of New Zealand writers could have handled this engrossing history of the making of the North Island Main Trunk Railway. The new iron road passed through the regions where “Jimmy Cowan” knew every skyline contour, every stream, every bush track, level plain or deep gully, and, moreover, every legend about them.
The riches of his historical knowledge, the knowledge drawn from a lifetime of intimacy with the folks of this bush-covered land,
Although remarkable for its craftsmanship and its close knowledge, the series is more remarkable for the range of personalities it comprises. At random I take, for instance, Bishop Pompallier, John Ballance, Dr. Peter Buck, Jessie Mackay, Alfred Domett, S. Percy Smith, R. J. Seddon and W. F. Massey. He recalled many shining figures from our past who have never joined the ranks of those gaining honour in print in our conventional histories. He told of Ahumai (of Orakau), of Julia Matanga (the Maori Grace Darling of the “Delaware” wreck); Major Jackson of the Forest Rangers; Te Heu Heu, the great chieftain of the Tongariro lands; Samuel Leigh, the first Wesleyan missionary; Te Puea Herangi, the Waikato Princess and present leader of her people; John Webster of Hokianga; and Captain Clayton, the master mariner who left such paintings as the “Kent” passing the “Owen Glendower” in 1861; and so on.
I shall come to other writers who have found “The Railways Magazine” a worthy medium, but in the meantime shall go on with the pilgrimage down the years of this “shop organ” which so gloriously grew into a national forum.
Away back in 1927, I noticed an article on “The Gun That Made Petone Famous.” It was a good type of Maxim machine gun, made at the Petone Railway workshops in war-time. They had no blue prints, only a condemned gun to copy, and miracles were wrought of delicate hand machining and precision of workmanship. It worked—firing hundreds of rounds in practical service. I could not help wondering what those artificers of 1917 would say of the modern superb plant of the present workshops.
Rly. Publicity photo.)
The Editor of “The New Zealand Railways Magazine” since its inception—Mr. Geo. G. Stewart.
The issue of 1st April, 1929, gave me another shock as to the little time that has elapsed since the arrival of one of the permanent features of our daily lives. Here a writer reports from London his impressions of his first “see-hear” at a talkie. The writer explains that the first items on the programme were a sort of acclimatisation process “like going in to swim from the feet upwards.” As the night wore on it dawned on him that “A pretty face hasn't always a pretty voice” (I'm thinking of peacocks in the monsoon), and this leads him to make the sound prophecy that “the Britisher would score,” because of voice qualities. His comment on the drama that followed the topical talking films was: “The story is tripe but some of the noises excellent.” It often remains a good verdict to-day.
As I wore on through the volumes, it became obvious that I could pillage enough matter of interest to fill a dozen articles. In 1933, the first full verse page appeared. “The Railways Magazine” has been a valuable medium for practically all of our practising poets of standing, and has opened the door for many a new poet. I can say, as an eye-witness, that there is genuine, ardent excitement when some new verse of quality or freshness “blows in.” Payment is at a living wage scale, and I know of no better matriculation test for the budding (Continued on page 72.)
The story of Southland's wooden railway forms one of the most curious chapters in the railway history of New Zealand. The interest which attaches to this courageous but ill-advised project is both technical and historical.
In 1863 the little province, which just two years before had been separated from Otago and entrusted with its own government, contained a population of fewer than 9,000 people. The chief difficulty confronting the local authorities under the visionary Superintendent Dr. Menzies, was the lack of natural communications. The infant capital, Invercargill, was cut off both from the interior and from its harbour at the Bluff by tracts of flat, swampy ground, which, in its unimproved condition, forbade wheeled transport altogether. Road-making was hampered by the lack of metal in convenient localities, and attempts to construct gravel highways across the morasses resulted in little but the expenditure of money.
The discovery, in the latter part of 1862, of rich goldfields in the vicinity of Lake Wakatipu, opened out tantalising prospects to the young province. Although the diggings were situated in Otago, their natural outlet lay through the wide valleys at the foot of the lake leading to the Southland plains. If something could be done to establish a permanently practicable route across the dozen miles or so of wet country in the vicinity of Invercargill, Southland stood to reap a rich harvest from the goldfields trade.
When, therefore, the Provincial Council met in February, 1863, Menzies laid before it a scheme to borrow £120,000 (subsequently increased) to build a railway to the Bluff, and also a second sum of £130,000 to lay down a horse tramway for twenty miles up the Oreti Valley to touch the drier gravel plains of the interior.
The Council consented to the former plan, but was not prepared as yet to sanction the latter. They voted a special grant of £20,000, however, to keep the existing road to the north open during the winter.
The subsequent story of the Bluff railway, as heart-breaking in its vicissitudes as that of the Oreti line, need not concern us here. It soon became apparent, however, that road-making under the prevailing conditions, was no solution of the problem of the gold-fields communications, and in July a newcomer from Victoria, J. R. Davis, submitted to the Provincial Government a plan to establish a more permanent and satisfactory route. This was the famous wooden railway scheme. The idea had first been mooted in Victoria where it was claimed that satisfactory results had been achieved on a short experimental line, although the Government had rejected the scheme. The rails proposed were square in cross-section, with a surface six inches broad. The rolling stock was constructed in a special way. Each wheel ran on its own axle, independent of its companion on the opposite side. The wheels had no flanges, but were kept on the rails by means of small guide-wheels placed at an angle of 45 degrees. Special advantages were claimed to arise from the use of wooden rails. Their cost per mile was calculated at £460 as compared with £2,187 for iron rails. It was argued, too that adhesion would be much greater on wood inasmuch as the engines would have increased climbing power; there
From a painting by W. W. Stewart.)
Built in Ballarat, Victoria, this locomotive was used on the Wooden Railway in Southland, in the ‘sixties.
The provincial chief surveyor, Heale, who was regarded as the best local authority on engineering matters, reported favourably on the scheme. Even if it proved a total failure, he contended, the line could easily be converted into an iron one by using the wooden rails as longitudinal sleepers. The cost he roughly estimated as £88,000, with an additional £27,000 in the event of its being found necessary to lay an iron track.
Before the Provincial Government committed itself to the scheme, a demonstration was provided. Davies had imported a little engine known as the Lady Barkly, which he had used in Victoria. Rails were laid on the Invercargill jetty and on 8th August the trial was held. It was considered a complete success. All the afternoon the Lady Barkly steamed up and down, attaining at times a speed of 25 miles per hour, with crowds of delighted citizens riding on the engine. “The motion was found pleasant,” reported the Invercargill Times, “and quite free from that oscillation and concussion which distinguish travelling on iron rails with the ordinary engine.”
When the Provincial Council met in October it readily gave permission for the raising of a loan of £110,000 to
Photo., Thelma R. Kent.)
The Railway Department's lake steamer “Earnslaw,” near the head of Lake Wakatipu, South Island, New Zealand.
In the early part of 1864, however, trouble began. Reports were abroad that the materials being used were not those specified. Enquiry elicited the fact that white pine was being used for rails contrary to the terms of the contract, that the sleepers were composed of unsuitable timbers, and that the embankment contained much slushy stuff from the swampy ground adjacent to the line, instead of the excavated earth from the cuttings, as the agreement demanded. Davis claimed that he had done nothing without the permission of Marchant, the provincial railway engineer. Marchant admitted the fact, pleading that in view of the necessity of haste, he had felt justified in exercising his discretionary power. Marchant was promptly dismissed, but was reinstated when it was proved that he had received permission for the alterations from the Deputy-Superintendent, in the absence of the Superintendent from the province. Consulting engineers reported that, considering the desirability of completing the line before the winter, the use of inferior materials was possibly expedient, and the work was continued.
The province, however, was now in sore financial straits. The Bluff railway proved more expensive than was anticipated, the debentures issued to cover the cost of the Oreti line proved unsaleable, the bank refused further advances, and the final blow came when the Colonial Government refused to advise the Governor's assent to the raising of a further loan to pay off creditors. As a result, work on the railways was suspended in May, and when, nearly three months later, the Oreti line was resumed, the Government had to face a large additional expenditure for compensation to the contractors for expenses incurred during the stoppage. It was now possible to complete the line only as far as Makarewa, a distance of about eight miles. At length this section was ready, and on 18th October the official opening was held.
The day was declared a public holiday, and at noon the train started from the gaily decorated station. Tickets had been issued by invitation so that the party was a select one. Makarewa was reached in sixteen minutes and the travellers picnicked on the river-bank, while Davis provided the means of merriment for his workmen. On the return to Invercargill a formal luncheon was held on the station platform, and the success of the Oreti railway was toasted with enthusiasm.
The general public, however, felt aggrieved at their exclusion from the celebration, and there were hostile demonstrations on the departure of the train. A meeting of protest was held and it was decided that a second “opening” with no restrictions should be held a week later. On the day before the proposed excursion an unfortunate accident occurred, a youth employed on the engine being killed by falling from it on to the line. If this was a bad omen, circumstances more disquieting for the future were soon revealed.
On the 25th the train made three trips to Makarewa, carrying fully 2,000 people. There were scenes of hilarity and boisterous revelry in striking contrast to the more sedate enjoyment of the previous week. Sports were held during the afternoon, but as the day wore on rain began to fall. The multitude of feet treading the wet enbankment plastered the smooth surface of the rails with clay, and when the heavily loaded trains left Makarewa, again and again the wheels spun helplessly on the moist rails. On top of this the engine developed leaky tubes which almost extinguished the fire. It was midnight before the last trip was accomplished, and a grand ball that was to have been held had to be postponed because the band had not returned. Great numbers, indeed, failed to find accommodation on the returning trains and were forced to trudge weary miles back to Invercargill or camp out miserably in the wet, finding what shelter they could.
The railway had thus been twice “opened,” but the sequel was a sad anticlimax. The unsoundness of the embank-
(Continued on page 67
).
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We saw a good deal of Te Kooti Rikirangi and his people in the ‘Eighties on the King Country frontier. The peace-making with this celebrated of Maori War leaders was a great relief to all the outlying settlements, when it was announced in 1883. The General Amnesty covering all political offences such as Te Kooti's long war against the pakeha forces was creditable to the Government's sense of justice.
But the strongest motive actuating the policy of Mr. John Bryce, the then Native Minister, and his colleagues was the desire to bring the King Country under the administration of law, to open it with the consent of its people to the making of roads and railways, and eventually to settle pakeha farmers on some portions of it.
For this purpose it was necessary to conciliate King Tawhiao and his principal chiefs, and also those Maoris who for acts of war had come under the special ban of the Government. Te Kooti, on whose head lay a reward of £5,000, from the days of Sir Donald Maclean, and who was technically an outlaw, living in constant danger of capture, was the principal man for whom the General Amnesty was arranged. He had long abandoned his war-path life; since 1872 he had lived peacefully at Te Kuiti and other places, only desiring to be left alone. He had a large following of disciples in his Wairua-Tapu form of religion, and he had a considerable reputation as a faith-healer. By 1883 the conditions were favourable for a complete reconciliation, and no one was more pleased than war-worn prematurely aged Te Kooti Rikirangi.
We who lived on the Old Frontier in the ‘Seventies and ‘Eighties, on the farms and in the military-founded townships, saw history in the making. The two farthest-out settlers at Orakau, which touched the confiscation line, were Andrew Kay and my father. Other farmers to the west lived near the Puniu River and thence to the township of Alexandra (now Pirongia). There were many vulnerable places, where any night a band of Hauhau raiders might come down on the settlements as they did at Poverty Bay. War memories were still raw. The official peacemaking at Manga-o-rongo—fifteen miles across the border—banished all the old fears. The military watch, by armed settlers and the Constabulary outposts, was no longer necessary; except for minor fanatic demonstrations, such as Mahuki's raid on Alexandra.
I first saw Te Kooti when I was a boy, in 1884. He and some of his people came out of the King Country and lived for a time on Andrew Kay's farm, where they had a neat camp of thatched whares and fished for eels in the swamp. The Government was anxious to settle its old enemy on a kind of community farm, and it was proposed at first to buy part of the Kay estate. But the area was rather too swampy and that bargain was abandoned. But the Government gave Te Kooti an allotment at Kihikihi, and there he spent a good deal of his time, enjoying the good things of his new life of peace, including the contents of the two bar-rooms in the township. We frequently saw him on the travel, with his retinue of mounted men and his staunch bodyguard consisting of his two wives, resolute-looking gaunt-featured women, who reputedly carried loaded revolvers hung round them under their blouses. But he retired to the King Country again, and in 1886 I saw his large kainga at Otewa, on the Waipa, a place of well-built nikau and raupo houses, with large cultivations of wheat, maize, potatoes, kumara and fruit. There he lived a patriarchal life, maintaining a strict discipline over his people and holding religious services twice a day. Later on still, Ohiwa, Bay of Plenty, became his home, and there he died in 1893, revered as a next-to-God by thousands of his people.
In 1889 I had a long talk with Te Kooti on matters of Hauhau war history, and he told me then about his sailoring and trading visits to Auckland from Gisborne. That was in the long peace before the Hauhau Wars began. One of the schooners in which he sailed was named Te Whetuki; he was the supercargo, the man who attended to the business side of the vessel's voyages.
From a drawing by the late James McDonald, 1907.)
Tuta Nihoniho, of the Ngati-Porou tribe.
It was on one of those trips to Auckland that he took the name Kooti, the native pronunciation of the pakeha name “Coates,” which he had seen in print in official notices in its Maori form. He brought cargoes of wheat, potatoes and other produce from the East Coast and sold them in Auckland, and took back trade goods for the Maoris. This business enterprise greatly displeased the principal storekeeper and trader at Turanganui, Captain Read, who became one of his enemies and accusers.
It was false or flimsy charges against Te Kooti by his enemies at Poverty Bay that resulted in his transportation to Chatham Island. I have heard several versions of that episode from both Maoris and pakehas. The story which seems least coloured by either European bias or by tribal patriotic feeling is a narrative given to me in 1905 by the late Tuta Nihoniho, a veteran fighting chief of the Ngati-Porou tribe, of the country between Tolaga Bay and the East Cape. He could not be accused of unduly favouring Te Kooti, for he fought for six years against the Hauhaus, and often against Te Kooti himself, and he was captain of the Ngati-Porou Rifle Volunteers after the war.
Te Kooti, said Tuta, was not a rebel originally. The Government made him hostile because its agents listened to his enemies and took no notice of his protests. He was fighting on the Government side with his tribe in 1865 at the siege of Waerenga-a-Hika (“Hika's Clearing”), close to the English mission station at Poverty Bay. Tuta and he were serving on the same side. A minor chief who had a grudge against Te Kooti accused him of supplying percussion caps to the Hauhaus in the pa for their guns; also it was said that he fired only powder, having removed the bullets from his cartridges. These accusations were not sustained, and he was released. But his enemies were persistent. There was Read the storekeeper's enmity, and there were personal jealousies about women. Several chiefs of the Rongo-whakaata tribe urged the Government officers to imprison him because he was a spy for the Hauhaus.
Major Biggs and Captain James Wilson were the officers in charge at the Bay after the fighting of 1865. They were persuaded to keep Te Kooti in custody. Biggs made enquiries from the local chiefs, Paratene Turangi and others, as to the truth or otherwise of the charges, and what they were told by his enemies confirmed their belief that Te Kooti was a dangerous character to have around one's kainga and would be much better out of the way. So off to exile the offender must go.
When the steamer for the prison isle came to an anchor off Gisborne, and the hundreds of prisoners were marched down to the beach to embark, Te Kooti was ordered to accompany them. He was escorted to the embarking place between files of men with loaded rifles. The whaleboat was on the beach waiting. “There the autaia was,” said Tuta, “driven like a dog to the boat.” (“Autaia” means a lively lad, a roystering blade, a troublesome fellow). Te Kooti turned to Major Biggs, to Captain Wilson, to Paratene Turangi (who was the grandfather of Lady Carroll, of Gisborne), who were standing there watching the embarkation, and cried:—
“No te aha au ka whiua tahitia nei me nga Hauhau ki runga poti? E hara au i te Hauhau!” (“Why am I singled out to go with the Hauhaus into the boat? I am not a Hauhau!“)
But what was that to Biggs, to Wilson, to Paratene Turangi? said Tuta. They would not listen to Te Kooti's protests.
“Go on to the boat!” said the white officer impatiently. “Go on to the boat!” And Paratene, imitating as well as he could the English of his white officer friends, said imperatively: “Ko ana ki te poti! Ko ana ki te poti!” (“Go on to the boat!“)
At Napier he protested to Sir Donald Maclean, Government Agent in Charge of East Coast Affairs, but Maclean would not listen. He concluded that Te Kooti's guilt had already been proved at Gisborne.
So Te Kooti went. On the Chathams he stayed two years, but he never forgot those contemptuous words, and the spurning of his protests against transportation. He remembered them when he plotted revenge, and when he by a master-stroke of skill and daring seized the three-masted schooner Rifleman at Wharekauri when Captain Christian was ashore, and compelled her mate and crew to carry him and his followers back to the New Zealand coast. He protested repeatedly that he did not deserve exile, and he asked for a trial or court-martial. But he was never tried, and this deportation without trial was an injustice over which he and his fellow prisoners continually brooded in their prison island. They were kept there on a kind of indeterminate sentence—the punishment that someone long afterwards in New Zealand called a “Kathleen Mavourneen,” because, in the words of the old ballad, “it may be for years and it may be for ever.”
No formal sentence was passed on the Maoris selected for exile. They were under a loose kind of Government order. Chatham Island was a convenient dumping ground for rebels against the Queen. Many injustices were done in the name of martial law. Some men no doubt deserved punishment, but the guilt of others was doubtful. It was no wonder that some of the Maoris summarily transported to the distant island meditated bitter revenge.
It was in 1867, when the deported Maoris had been on Wharekauri (Chatham Island) for about a year, that Te Kooti emerged from the ranks
J.C., photo., at Ohinemutu, 1920.)
Pirika Hohepa, a veteran soldier of the Arawa tribe.
The final reckoning came in November, 1868. Three months after Te Kooti and his fellow-escapees landed from the Rifleman is the little cove at Whareongaonga, just south of Young Nick's Head, he led his long-cherished kokiri of revenge against the whites and Maoris of Turanga-nui. But Turanga slept. Alas! it slept. What watchers there were watched the wrong trail. The tomahawk and the sword did the work; not many shots were fired. And Major Biggs and Captain Wilson were both slain, and their families also. Te Kooti's other white enemies escaped. Ha! Ka ca to kino! (The wrong-doing was avenged.)
At one of the Maori villages the chief Paratene Turangi—he who had stood on the beach side with Biggs and Wilson when Te Kooti was deported—was captured by the Hauhaus. Te Kooti approached his victim (his relative also, be it remembered) with a soft tread which must have had something of the tiger's advance on its prey in it. One hand he stretched forth in mock welcome; the other he held behind him; it gripped his tomahawk.
“Tena koe, taku papa,” he said in the soft half-whining voice the Maori uses in greeting. “Greetings, my father” [elder relative] the words meant. And raising his left hand he stroked the cheeks of the petrified Paratene as if in affection. “Tena koe taku papa, nana te kupu, ‘Ko ana ki te poti, ko ana ki te poti!’ (“Salutations, my father, you who uttered those words, ‘Go on to the boat, go on to the boat'!) A-a! Ko ana ki te tomahawk!” And a moment later, Paratene fell to the executioner's blow.
That was Te Kooti's revenge. So died Paratene Turangi, he who had helped to send Te Kooti Turuki into exile. Treachery was paid for with savagery, false witness with the edge of the tomahawk.
* * *
Many people who have written about New Zealand history have pictured Te Kooti as a terrible ruffian without any redeeming qualities. Such a description of a man who was in his day the most notable figure in the life of this colony is quite misleading, based on imperfect knowledge. With the passing of the years a less prejudiced view can be taken of the actions of those who opposed the Government. It is recognised now that many unfair and tyrannical things were done by the Governments of the past, such as the forcible taking of Maori lands in punishment for so-called rebellion. That the Maori cause was just at the beginning of the Taranaki war in 1860 was admitted by Governor and Government in 1863, but it was then too late to prevent further strife.
Te Kooti's fierce deeds in the heat of war outnumbered even those of Kipling's Boh Da Thone, erst a pretender to King Theebaw's throne—
“He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean, He filled old ladies with kerosene.”
But Te Kooti did not go that far; the mercifully quick tomahawk was his way. A massacre here and a fierce foray there were balanced by his military genius, his amazingly skilful checkmating of Government moves against him on the rugged field of mountain and forest. Had he been a white chief imprisoned by the Maoris on the Chathams, his escape with all his people in the captured schooner Rifleman would have been acclaimed as a desperately daring stroke of generalship, deserving of high honour. By comparison with some great military figures of Europe Te Kooti does not suffer. Some English kings and queens of the past were just as pitiless as the Maori rebel when they wished to rid themselves of enemies and doubtful friends, and the great European powers to-day are even more ruthless and savage.
* * *
There was a poetic touch about the old war-hawk in his later days. Captain Gilbert Mair, one of the officers who had led the Arawa contingents in chase of him in many expeditions, and who more than once took a hasty shot at him in a bush skirmish, told me this incident of the ‘Eighties, after the General Amnesty. Te Kooti was peacefully
Photo, Thelma R. Ken.
A river scene in the Lewis Pass, South Island, New Zealand.
Mair solemnly inspected the guard of honour, and then Te Kooti approached him with a fine korowai flax cloak, and placed it around his one-time enemy's shoulders.
“This garment,” he said, “is my token of regard for you, Tawa, from whom I escaped only by the breadth of the black of my finger nail” (Maori idiom for “by the skin of my teeth”). “Wear this korowai in memory of me, and if it be not large enough to cover you, let me clothe you with my love.”
So saying he gave the orders, “Tei-hana! Pai ia rewhi!” (Attention! By your left!“) and quick-marched his men back to the kainga.
“He clothed me with his aroha!” said my friend. “Pretty good for the old war-horse, that bit of sentiment, wasn't it?”
Later on in the day a messenger from the kainga came to the Horse Shoe Inn with a request from Te Kooti. Would his fighting friend the captain be good enough to send him a bottle of rum? Mair sent it, and thus did the two old warriors exchange their pledges of aroha.
Te Kooti is still the popular hero among many tribes, although he has been dead so long. And not only among the old people. A pakeha woman, who is a teacher in a girls’ college, and is particularly interested in New Zealand history, told me of her meeting with some loyal young worshippers of the Ringatu prophet, priest and king. It was in the train in Hawke's Bay. Five or six young Maori girls were returning from holidays to their college. She began a conversation with those intelligent, handsome and neatly dressed girls, and presently asked them by way of a quiet test of their knowledge, about the history of New Zealand. Te Kooti's wars were discussed. Their eyes lit up when she mentioned his name. They all admired Te Kooti, he was the greatest Maori warrior, he was a great general, and a very good man indeed.
“But was he not a very cruel man?” the teacher asked, to elicit their opinions further; really she rather admired Te Kooti, being a bit of a rebel herself.
Maori eyes blazed with indignation at the suggestion. “No, no! He was badly treated by the Government, and he was only avenging his wrongs. The Government sent him away into exile on Wharekauri without trial, and took his land away from him. When he escaped he was only doing the right thing. The pakehas were cruel to him, and why should he not have his revenge? He was a very, very clever brave man.”
That teacher heard enough from young Maori womanhood in the burst of sturdy patriotism to convince her that the memory and mana of Te Kooti will not soon fade. There is hope for the race, she affirms, when the young generation hold so tenaciously to their national hero-worship.
* * *
Te Kooti acquired fame among the Maori people for his gifts of healing. His magnetic personality, his strong will-power and his mystic influence gave him reputedly supernatural powers over the sick and the distressed. An old Arawa soldier, Pirika Hohepa (see photo.) told me in 1920 that although he had fought against Te Kooti he became a strong believer in his mana and his religion. In the ‘Eighties several of his children died, one after the other. In despair, he went to Te Kooti for help. The head of the Wairua-Tapu faith gave his spiritual ministrations, and there were no more deaths of children in that family.
As to the origin of the adopted name Te Kooti, Captain Preece, N.Z.C., who fought against him in the wars, told me that Rikirangi took it from a Government notice signed by Mr. Coates, Colonial Secretary, an official of those days, in Auckland; the Maori translation displayed was signed “Kooti.” It has also been said that he was called after a Dr. Scott, of the East Coast—a prominent pakeha-Maori resident of Wairoa—whose name in Maori is Kooti. However, I believe Captain Preece's version was the correct one. Most pakehas mispronounce the name. Te Kooti being the native form of Coates, it is given the sound of that name with the “o” long. The word “court” is also pronounced and spelled “kooti” in Maori. The English “vote” similarly becomes “pooti.” So do not fall into the common error of sounding the prolonged “o” as “u,” as in Kuiti, kura, mura.
Photo., Mrs. A. S. Wilkinson.)
Karaka.
(Corynocarpus lavagata.)
Photo., Mrs. A. S. Wilkinson.)
Bush Lawyer—Male flower.
(Rubus Australis.)
W. W. Stewart Collection.)
Departure from Auckland of the Auckland-Wellington Express, and a study of locomotive “K” 901 before the commencement of the 426 mile run to the Capital City of New Zealand.
W. W. Stewart Collection.)
Camera studies in the railway yard at Auckland, North Island, New Zealand.
a woody theatre of stateliest view.“
—MIlton.
A typical scene in the Eglinton Valley, South Island, New Zealand.
Thelma R. Kent. photo.)
* * *
To speak of Samuel Enderby and Sons as being merely shipowners, whalers, merchant princes of London, would fail to do them full justice. Their interests and activities extended beyond the realms of trade, the welfare of the British Empire itself being numbered among their concerns.
The same spirit—patriotic, enterprising, adventurous—which moved Samuel Enderby, actuated his sons; and (in passing) his grandson General “Chinese” Gordon.
A striking eulogy of the Enderbys is given by Herman Melville, who tells of his ship, the “Pequod,” meeting the English whaling vessel, “Samuel Enderby,” named after “the original of the famous whaling house of Enderby and Sons”; “a house,” says Melville, “which in my poor whaleman's opinion, comes not far behind the united royal houses of the Tudors and Bourbons, in point of view of real historical interest.” “The Vigorous Enderbys,” he called them.
In the days when American colonists had the monopoly of sperm-whale fishing, England was their best customer for whale oil and spermaceti. Registered both in London and Boston, the Enderby ships went to and fro, bringing whale oil to England and returning with stores for the American colonists. It happened to be an Enderby ship which, in 1773, brought the famous chests of tea to Boston, where they were emptied into the harbour by angry Americans. The War of Independence which followed this incident put an end, for a time, to America's sperm whale fishing, and British shipowners, now cut off from this source of supply, decided to hunt the sperm whale for themselves. So it came to pass that in 1775, several ships, most of them owned by Samuel Enderby and Sons, were equipped for whaling, and sailed away to hunt in the South Atlantic.
Other whaling ships soon appeared on these waters, their number increasing to such an extent that in the course of ten years or so, the fishing grounds became exhausted. This was the turning point of the Enderby Firm toward New Zealand.
Samuel Enderby had heard from the captains and mates of East Indiamen that great quantities of sperm whales were to be found east of the Cape of Good Hope. Enderby desired to explore this new fishing ground, but his plans were obstructed by the fact that the directors of the East India Company held a charter which gave them a monopoly of trade in the seas east of the Cape. To have these restrictions removed Enderby worked with vigour, urging the authorities that “permission be given to whalers to explore, without hinderance from the East India Company, the most distant ocean.” His efforts were partially successful, and in a letter to George Chalmers (a Government official) he stated that his firm, at great expense, had purchased and fitted out a very fine ship, the “Emilia,” now ready to sail. They were, he said, the only “adventurers willing to risk their property at such a great distance for the exploring of a fishery”; the others preferring to wait and see how Enderby succeeded.
D. McMillan, photo.)
A back country sheep station near Avoca, Midland Line, South Island, New Zealand.
In 1789 the “Emilia” rounded Cape Horn into the Pacific, not only the first British ship, but the “first among the nations to lower a whale-boat of any sort in the great South Sea.” The venture was a great success, the “Emilia” returning in 1790 with a full cargo of sperm-oil, and the crew in good health. When it became known that whales and seals abounded in the South Pacific, numbers, both of English and American whale ships, followed in the wake of the “Emilia.”
In the latter part of 1792, the ship “Britannia,” owned by Enderby and Sons, came to Australia with convicts. With the intention of procuring sealskins for the China market, William Raven, master of the vessel, left Sydney on September 30, for Dusky Bay, New Zealand: he was armed with a three years’ license from the East India Company. But before getting clear of Sydney, the “Britannia's” course was changed, presumably at the command or request of Major Grose, who, with his captains, subsequently chartered the ship to sail for the Cape of Good Hope, there to obtain provisions for the soldiers stationed at Sydney.
On 23rd October, Raven again set out for Dusky Bay, having been given leave to station a sealing gang there on his way to the Cape. New Zealand was sighted on 3rd November, 1792, and three days later the “Britannia” was moored in Facile Harbour, Dusky Bay. While making an examination of the
In about three weeks the dwelling—40 ft. long, 18 ft. broad and 15 ft. high—was completed, and provisions and stores for twelve months were landed. Raven also left iron work, cordage, and sails; with instructions that a boat was to be built, large enough to carry them to a “friendly port” should need arise. This, says Dr. McNab, was the first sealing gang stationed on the New Zealand coast, and William Leith, second mate on the “Britannia,” had the distinction of being its commander.
On 1st December, the “Britannia” left for the Cape of Good Hope and in due time returned to Sydney. But owing to the great need for supplies, she was again chartered; this time for India. Naturally anxious about the welfare of his men at Dusky Bay, Raven was given leave to call there, Major Grose ordering the schooner “Francis” to accompany him.
The two vessels left Sydney on September 8, 1793; the “Britannia” arriving at Dusky on the 27th of the same month, while the “Francis,” having been blown four times off the coast, did not reach the bay until the 12th of October.
Raven anchored at Anchor Island, and the moment the vessel was moored, “Leith, and a party of five, who had been seen coming round the south point of the island from their sealing station at Luncheon Cove, came on board and reported that all was well.”
During their stay of ten months the party had collected 4,500 seal skins, which was not considered a very successful result for their labour; but Raven was satisfied that the men had done their best to procure skins.
With the boat which he had ordered to be built, Raven was delighted. “What excited my admiration,” he says, “was the progress they had made in constructing a vessel of the following dimensions—40 ft. keel; 53 ft. length upon deck; 16 ft. 10 inches extreme breadth; and 12 ft. hold… . . she is planked, decked, and sealed with spruce fir, which in the opinion of the carpenter is very little inferior to English oak… . the carpenter has great merit, and has built her with that strength and neatness which few shipwrights belonging to the merchant service are capable of performing.”
Dr. McNab says that as far as he can ascertain, this was the first vessel built in Australasia, purely from Australasian timber, and “is an Australasian historical event.” Also, since the early whaling trade was carried on away from the coast, “beyond a spur or two put on board a stray vessel in the North Island,” the Dusky Bay sealing of Captain Raven in 1792–93 was the first trade with New Zealand; and Luncheon Cove the first settlement. Thus early did Samuel Enderby and Sons touch New Zealand.
Though the limits for the Southern Whale Fishery had been extended by legislation, “vessels could not proceed further than 51° E.; this still kept New Zealand and New Zealand sealing under the domain of the East India Company.” Enderby whaling ships, however, came to New Zealand as early as 1794.
In 1797 the Board of Trade “considered
D. McMillan. photo.)
The Christchurch-Greymouth Express crossing the viaduct at Broken River, South Island, New Zealand.
More and more whalers came to hunt in the waters of New Zealand, “and as they frequently called at Sydney a traffic grew up between New South Wales,
Many of the Enderby whaling vessels were engaged in discovery as well as in hunting; and in August, 1806, Captain Abram Bristow, master of the “Ocean”—owned by Samuel Enderby—when sailing south of New Zealand, discovered the Auckland Islands; so named after Lord Auckland, a friend of Bristow's father. Bristow, at this time, did not land; but in October of the following year he returned to the islands and took formal possession of them on behalf of the Crown.
As time went on, Samuel Enderby and Sons, with other English whaling firms, became alarmed about the conduct of the Europeans on the New Zealand coast, and tried to persuade the British Government to organise a settlement and make New Zealand a colony. “In one letter,” says Dr. W. J. Dakin, “they pointed out that the coast of Australia was not only too far from the New Zealand coast for help should a ship meet with damage or her crew become ill, but undesirable, too.”
Apt at grasping new ideas, the firm of Enderby and Sons manufactured rope from New Zealand flax, and thereafter used no other kind of rope for the whale lines on their vessels. They often employed Maoris; some as seamen, some as harpooners, and in general found them to be good, steady men; two Maoris were in their service for nine years.
So the Enderby firm moved forward, their ships sailing over the whole Pacific, from North to South, wherever whales were to be found.
(To be continued.)
It's a queer thing but some men can never learn to smoke. The great Napoleon was like that. The first time he tried, we are told, the smoke got down his throat and into his eyes, and as soon as he could speak he spluttered “take that thing away.” So disgusted was he that he never tried again, and as usually happens in such cases became an anti-tobaccoite. The would-be smoker should begin with cigarettes, and can't do better than get a tin of Riverhead Gold—or Desert Gold—the two leading cigarette tobaccos on the market, and roll his own. When he has got his prentice-hand in, so to speak, he can try a pipe of Cavendish or Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog) and later sample Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead) — full strength, and the old smoker's favourite. These comprise the five famous toasted blends, renowned alike for their delicious flavour and beautiful bouquet. They are, being toasted, as pure as tobacco can be, and their widespread popularity is demonstrated by the ever-increasing demand for them.*
The exploration of the alpine valleys and magnificent glacier systems of our mountain ranges, apart from the enrichment of science, has yielded much of interest to every lover of nature. Likewise, ever since the pioneering days of Sir Julius von Haast in the ‘sixties, and the stirring achievements of men like G. E. Mannering, A. P. Harper, C. E. Douglas and the Graham Brothers in the ‘nineties, there has been a steadily growing interest in the mountain regions as a field of sport.
During the past ten years, mainly due to the advent of mountaineering, tramping and ski-ing clubs, more people have visited the alpine playgrounds than ever before, and it is safe to say that, with expanding transport facilities, the call of the mountains will be heard by ever-increasing numbers.
The magnificent Mt. Cook area of the Southern Alps has, of course, claimed the chief attention of explorers. However, there are other valleys and peaks of the Alps which have a great appeal to the mountaineer, and about which much less is known to the general public. It is due largely to the efforts of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club and the New Zealand Alpine Club that these lesser known districts have been rediscovered and revealed. For example, the head-waters of the Canterbury rivers such as the Waimakariri, Rakaia, Rangitata and Godley, are fed from numerous glaciers and snowfields which, because of their difficulty of access and remoteness possess a particular fascination to the explorer mountaineer.
Those who have never seen the New Zealand mountains and these alpine valleys can have but an imperfect conception of their beauty and vastness. The photographer and the artist both play their part in depicting the beauty and grandeur of a mountain scene, but even the highest art must fail to portray this beauty and grandeur in its reality.
Many attempts have been made to find an answer to the question: “Why do people go into the mountains?” Only those who find their joy in the high hills can answer that question. Some say that they go to climb peaks, some to geologise or botanise, while others say they go just to tramp, and to photograph the alpine scenery. To be sure, some do go for these purposes. Others again go because they feel the mountains offer a perpetual challenge. They climb the peaks, explore the untrodden valleys, endure the hardships of nature, not only for the reward of conquest, but because nowhere else do they feel fully alive.
Mr. C. E. Mathews, a veteran climber, writes a different answer to the same question. He says: “Everything seems to be in our favour. We breathe a diviner air, we watch the clear streams bounding out of the mountain side and racing laughingly
When one leaves the haunts of men for the solitude of the mountains,
“… the cares that infest the day Fold their tents like the Arabs And as silently steal away.”
Every year, especially during the climbing season which usually extends from the month of December to March, we find many heavily-laden men setting forth into some remote part of the Main Divide or the adjacent valleys in search of adventure. All the year they have been planning with enthuisasm and thoroughness the necessary details for some enterprising expedition, while at the same time delving into the historic records of past explorations.
Exploration in the lesser known and seldom frequented parts of the mountain valleys assuredly has its joys and compensations.
Deserting the beaten track for glaciers and passes the traveller must carry his house upon his back. These packs, often sixty to seventy pounds in weight, have to be swagged for days over boulder-strewn river bed, over bluffs, and through bush to some sheltered camp-site or alpine hut.
We cannot in New Zealand sleep at the foot of the Main Divide in a luxurious hotel whilst all our swagging is being done by porters and guides as in other mountain countries. Even if we are deprived of the use and comfort of high altitude hotels and chateaux, we are at least proud of the chain of alpine huts which extend from Arthur's Pass in the north to the Hermitage in the south. Due to the foresight and enterprise of the Canterbury Mountaineering Club there has been erected at the heads of the major rivers a shelter hut which serves as a base for exploration as well as a refuge in time of storm.
In the Waimakariri there is the Carrington Hut erected to perpetuate the memory of one of the Club's foundation members, while in the Wilberforce River there is the Park Morpeth Hut so well-known to trans-divide travellers when undertaking the “Three Pass Trip” into Westland. At the head of the Rakaia River there is the Lyell Hut, and in the Havelock branch of the Rangitata River the newly erected hut and bivouac near the Eric stream. The Godley Hut and the De La Beche Hut are the New Zealand Alpine Club's contribution to the alpine chain, the former being in the Godley Valley and the latter on the Tasman Glacier at the foot of Graham's Saddle.
Forsaking the wind-swept valleys of Canterbury for the headwaters of some West Coast river the divide crosser must be prepared to brave the rougher travel and conditions which the latter crossings entail.
The rivers on the eastern side of the Main Divide are long, with a gentle slope to the sea, but in West-land they are comparatively short, very steep, and impassable if in flood. Like mighty cataracts they fill the rocky gorges with leaping waves, surging down and around the massive boulders that bar their path.
Travel in the rain-saturated undergrowth becomes arduous and slow, yet the mountain explorer faces all these difficulties revelling in their fierce caress.
Mountaineering stores up a fund of memories that will endure through a man's lifetime. Mr. F. S. Smythe, the famous Everest climber, writes in this connection: “In the hills it is the memories that count most, and it is these memories that will sustain us in our old age when the voice of the high mountains whisper back through the span of years.”
In the following letter to the Minister of Railways, the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Mr. F. M. Renner, Principal, Rongotai College, Wellington, makes appreciative comment upon the courtesy and attention shown by officers of the Railways Department to a party of boys from the College who recently toured the North Island by rail:—
I shall be glad if you will accept the school's very cordial appreciation of your kindness in making it possible for the Rongotai College party of eighteen boys to have such an enjoyable and
I shall be glad if you will take steps to ensure that our thanks and appreciation are made known as widely as possible to all concerned.
Clearing the snow from exposed tracks in the North of England.
Amerry Christmas to everyone! At the moment of writing, London Town has yet to taste its first winter snowstorm, but in many corners of Europe snow and ice already have played havoc with railway working and rendered the railwayman's task unenviable in the extreme. Britain is fortunate in escaping from really severe snowstorms, although on some of the exposed tracks in Northern England and Scotland, December can be a very trying month for the railway worker. We are reminded of this fact by the news that the London and North Eastern Railway has just provided for use on its Scottish lines five additional steel snowploughs, and has also converted three existing wooden ploughs to the latest type of steel construction. Actually, the King's Cross authorities now have fifteen steel snow-ploughs available for use in Scotland as well as a number of ploughs ready at a moment's notice to clear exposed tracks in the North of England. An interesting feature of these modern snowploughs is that they are so designed as to throw the snow to the off-side of the line, so that on double-track sections the clearance of either line can be carried out without interference with the opposite track.
One of England's most difficult railway routes under wintry conditions is the Newcastle and Carlisle section of the L. & N.E. system. This is a particularly interesting rail link because of its associations with George Stephenson, the “Father of Railways.” Travelling to-day from Newcastle to Carlisle one may still see on the line-side at Wylam the humble stone cottage where “Geordie” himself was born. Recently there has been celebrated the one-hundredth anniversary of the opening of the “N. & C.” The official trains making the throughout run between Carlisle and Newcastle one hundred years ago occupied just four hours on the 64 1/2 miles run. Unfortunately, on the return trip, several derailments occurred, but early mishaps such as these were speedily overcome, and the Newcastle and Carlisle became one of the most efficient of our early railways. An outstanding figure on the line was Thomas Edmondson, stationmaster at Milton, near Carlisle. Edmondson was the inventor of the card ticket and the ticket dating press, which by degrees came to be employed on railways the world over. In 1862, the Newcastle and Carlisle was acquired by the North Eastern Railway, which in turn was absorbed into the L. & N.E. group.
In a previous letter, reference was made to the far-famed “Railway Race to Scotland” of exactly half a century ago. By way of celebrating the “Railway Race” golden jubilee, the King's Cross management hit upon the happy idea of operating a special excursion train, from London to Cambridge and back, the rolling-stock employed being an 1888-style “Flying Scotsman” set. The seven six-wheeled coaches, weighing 98 tons, and seating 170 passengers,
Yet another link with Victorian travel has been afforded by the celebration of the centenary of London's first mainline railway—the London and Birmingham
Football, the great winter sport of Britain, is now in full swing, directing attention to the wonderful facilities afforded by the railways for sports of every kind. Principal among these facilities is the running of day and half-day excursions by special trains, which each year carry several millions of supporters to football, cricket and tennis matches, racing and other sports events. Parties of four or more members and officials of sports teams travelling together to participate in matches may obtain tickets based on a single fare for the double journey.
In recent years increasing attention has been paid by the Home railways to automatic train control, the Great Western Company being well to the fore in this activity. For nearly a quarter of a century the Great Western has steadily been extending its train control system, and very shortly the equipment will embrace 2,852 miles of track, 2,114 signalling locations, and 3,250 locomotives. The Paddington management favour a contact system of control, with a track ramp effecting contact with a shoe fitted under the locomotives. A new installation, now being tried out on the L. & N.E. Edinburgh-Glasgow main-line, employs what is known as the Hudd induction system of control. This system has, over a period of years, given very satisfactory service on the southern branch of the L.M. & S. railway, where 36 route miles of track are covered. Modern highspeed services call for every possible signalling refinement, and it seems likely that the L. & N.E. Company, interested as it is in high-speed running on all its main lines, will by degrees make automatic train control a permanent feature.
The Home railways rank among the largest hotel owners in the world, hotel operation proving one of their most profitable side-lines. A new develop-ment is the opening, jointly by the Lm. & S Railway and the travel house of Thos. Cook & Son Ltd., of a luxury holiday camp at Prestatyn, on the North Wales coast. Holiday camps run by various private individuals have sprung up all over Britain recently, and this new vacation idea has captured the public fancy to an enormous degree The Prestatyn camp is to be opened early in the New Year, and the promoters are applying ideas inspired by a close study of the camp movement here and in America. Accommodation will be provided for about 2,000 vacationists, in picturesque chalets having running-water and all up-todate facilities The attractions will include a heated swimming-pool, tennis-courts croquet lawns, bowling greens, and accommodation for table-tennis, dancing and entertainments. There will be a first-class resident dance band.