Lake Gunn, Eglinton Valley, South Island, New Zealand
(From a painting by F. Partridge).
Contents
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Controller and Auditor-General. 10/7/39.
In the Bay of Islands, North Island, New Zealand.
(Govt. Publicity photo.)
New Zealand
Railways
Magazine
Magazine
“
For Better Service
Service Copy.Registered at the G.P.O., Wellington, N.Z., for transmission by post as a Newspaper.
Vol. XIV. No. 10.
Wellington, New Zealand.
January1, 1940
Looking Forward
For reasoning beings to reach the year of grace 1940 with half of the total population of the world at war, and the other half looking on in hope or apprehension, is something that the lower animals, with their limited traces of intelligence, could not be expected to understand. These have all, in their respective classes, reached a working basis amongst themselves that makes fighting an occasional, rather than a constant, factor of living. They have survived because of their “live and let live” attitude. It was the armour-plated types living in saurian times who, through fierce intolerance, gradually did away with each other until only such interesting relics as our New Zealand tuataras are left alive to remind us of that warring age.
Will mankind follow the moa and the mammoth into the limbo of lost species through an equally fierce intolerance and inability to adapt himself to changing environment? There is much to ponder over in the possible ultimate effects from the unleashing of the tremendous powers of destruction which today lie in the hands of the major nations of the world.
Will the animal instincts which cause bitterness to become more bitter, pleasure in physical triumph over an adversary, and persistence in the practice of butting heads against brick walls, bring about the decline and fall of mankind?
Or will the present tension be relaxed, and a reign of fair dealing and better understanding replace existing muddlement?
All know now that mankind can produce ample for the requirements of all in the essentials of life. Very few are unwilling to lend what aid they can in production. Most of the world's population produce with ease much more than they can consume. Transport has been perfected to a point where none need go without because transport is not available. A reasonable admixture of work and play is admittedly good for all. Then there are increasing numbers of folk who find their chiefest joy and relaxation in comparatively costless things. There is a real joy in work well done. The young fireman who could not keep up steam on one engine blamed himself and was ready to “chuck the job.” The same fireman, on a better engine, kept steam up to the high mark even on the steepest pinches, was acclaimed for his performance and was elated by it. He then felt that both he and the job were “pretty good.”
Other joys besides work can be comparatively costless—the enjoyment of good literature, music, sea-bathing, gardening, companionship, mechanical hobbies, and such like. If wars were necessary to obtain the costly things of life, how much better to do without them !
If 1940 is to be a year for which the people of the world can offer thanks, it will see an early armistice so that the essential things of life—national needs and aspirations, goodwill, co-operation, and appreciation of what constitutes the real happiness of peoples and nations—may be understood and safeguarded in the interests of all.
Without this, the very preservation of the human race is in the balance. How long that balance can be maintained depends upon factors that none can contemplate with any sense of security.
Railway Progress In New Zealand
general manager's Message
1940
The year upon which we are entering is of special significance to the Dominion, for 1940 is our Centennial Year, celebrating the completion of one hundred years of New Zealand's national existence under the British flag.
It is also a year of special importance to the Railways of the Dominion, for it will see the system more up-to-date and better able than ever before to provide that quality of service in which both clients and staff can find pleasure and satisfaction.
Many of us, nevertheless, realise that much yet remains to be done before we reach the stage of an almost flawless system. But that knowledge, coupled with a realisation of what has been accomplished in the way of progress during the past few years, only serves to encourage further efforts to achieve still better standards of service.
The year just ended saw some notable developments, of which three were of outstanding interest to the public and railwaymen alike. The first was the opening of the Napier-Wairoa railway and the introduction on that line, for the first time in New Zealand, of a complete passenger service by rail cars. The second was the commencement of regular standard rail car services, running on fast schedules, between New Plymouth and Wellington. And the third was the opening, in November, of the Railway Road Services new Passenger Station at Dunedin, the most modern and fully-equipped terminal for the handling of road passenger transport requirements yet seen in the Dominion.
These and many other works completed during the year, such as the enlargement of Wellington Station to meet the requirements of increased business, afford proof of the advancement of the Railways system as an efficient instrument of transport. Increased business, producing better financial results, affords the best indication that members of the public appreciate what is being done for them.
The Centennial Exhibition at Wellington has given the Department an opportunity to show, in miniature, a picture of some phases of Railway operations, and also to demonstrate certain of the newer features introduced upon the system, such as the largest type of locomotives, air conditioned carriages, 4-position swivel-seating, and the attractive sleeping compartment now being placed in service.
It seems clear that no other feature of the Exhibition attracts greater attention, and I believe the Railways exhibit will valuably increase public knowledge of the stage of development reached by their Railways in this, the Dominion's Centennial Year.
Particularly in the condition of permanent way and buildings, in the tractive capacity of locomotives, in the range and efficiency of other power units, and in the number and quality of passenger carriages and goods and livestock wagons, all supported by improved train services, the Department has never been better equipped.
The year 1940 must be a good railway year in the circumstances indicated. I believe it will be a record year for the Railways in all respects. And I am particularly pleased that our preparations in recent years have reached a major culmination just at a time when the Dominion's war effort is making heavy demands upon railway resources.
Existing conditions call for the best effort from all of us, and this includes care and economy in the use of stores and other material.
Although perhaps more than one can expect, at present, it is to be hoped that before 1940 draws to a close some satisfactory settlement may arrive which will terminate the present spreading European conflict, affecting as it does so profoundly the lives and prospects of us all.
General Manager.
Opening of Railways Road Services Passenger Station, Dunedin
(Photos., M. Taylor.)
The illustrations show (top), the new building on the occasion of the official opening, and (below), the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways, speaking at the opening ceremony. Seated on his right is Mr. G. H. Mackley, C.M.G., General Manager of Railways.
Railways Road Services …
News Passenger Station
At Dunedin
Official Opening
Arepresentative gathering of citizens was present at the official opening of the New Zealand Railways Road Services Passenger Station by the Minister of Railways (Hon. D. G. Sullivan) on November 13 last. The function, which was held inside the building, was presided over by the General Manager of Railways (Mr. G. H. Mackley, C.M.G.). On the platform with the Minister were also the mayor (Mr. A. H. Allen), Dr. D. G. McMillan, M.P., the architect for the building (Mr. J. H. White) representing the designers (Messrs. Miller and White), the Chief Postmaster (Mr. N. R. McIsaac), and other public officials. The public filled the great body of the ‘bus depot.
The following report is from the “Evening Star,” Dunedin:
Mr. Mackley, expressing appreciation for their attendance, addressed a few words to the gathering. There might be some who thought the structure was somewhat ahead of the times, he said. No doubt similar thoughts were in the minds of some when the Dunedin railway station was opened in 1906.
“I am certain there were some Wellington people who had that thought in mind when thenew railway station was opened there two years ago, but today they will have cast aside any doubts they might have had, and they will realise that neither of these buildings is ahead of the times, and that they are even now becoming inadequate for their needs. That will be the same story with this building. Any taxpayer who has had any doubt about the way his money has been spent will go home well content that it has been a good investment for New Zealand.”
(Photo., R. Wilson Brown.)
The main entrance to the new building.
Mr. Mackley then went on to refer to the tourist trade, which would be handled by the new station. It was a building of which the city might feel proud.
The Mayor, who extended a warm welcome to the Minister, prefaced his remarks by a survey of transport development over the past 100 years, frorthe period when the pioneers had to cover a journey on foot, to the time of the ox wagon, stage coach, the railway, motor car, and modern motor ‘bus.
“The natural pleasure I have in taking part, as Mayor of the city,” he said, “in the opening ceremony associated with this magnificent new passenger station of the railway road services, is accentuated by the fact that, besides being a distinct civic asset of aesthetic value and one immediately available to improve the transport facilities of the people, the new road services station is obviously significant of a bright future for Dunedin and Otago particularly, and for the South Island generally. If there is one thing more than another which in recent years has marked the administration of our railways, it is the progressive outlook and swift action taken to make the department's services adequate for present needs and ready for any new developments that may be anticipated in the transport field.
“And so, when I look at this modern centre of road services transport, I realise that the Railway Department is not only meeting splendidly the existing passenger transport requirements of Dunedin and the surrounding districts, but is also preparing for that much greater development in business which must follow the many improvements in arterial communications now approaching completion.
“When one sees the position Dunedin has reached as a principal Dominion centre under conditions of comparatively limited access, it requires no great faith to believe that when the Homer Tunnel is completed and the road is opened to Milford Sound; when the road over the Haast Pass gives direct access to Westland; and when the road from the Eglinton and Hollyford Valleys reaches down to Lake McKerrow and so to Martin's Bay and Big Bay on the western coast of Otago, then we shall see a development of tourist and general travel to and through Dunedin on a scale which may be expected at no distant date to tax the resources of even this commodiously built and magnificently equipped caravanserai of the Railway Department's road services.
“Those who know the scenic wonders of our lakeland and fiordland—wonders that are only now coming to be under
(Photo., R. Wilson Brown.)
The Railway Road Services new Passenger Station at Dunedin.
“Dunedin will be the city for Milford Port, as it is for Otago Central, and through it will pass an ever-growing traffic in world travellers to whom New Zealand is becoming increasingly attractive. It is very fitting that Dunedin, the first city of the Dominion to have a good railway station, is now the first city to have a modern passenger station for road services.
“It is particularly appropriate that these transport services should both have been provided as part of the Railways organisation, but Dunedin and Otago have achieved a notable record as the home and nursery of most of the leading railwaymen who have brought credit to the Dominion and themselves as administrators of that great national transportation system.
“This city should be well served by the new service if personal association and nationality play any part, for both the General Manager of Railways, Mr. G. H. Mackley, and the Superintendent of Railway Road Services, Mr. F. K. Mackay, are of Scottish extraction—and, I believe, proud of it—and both were born and bred and began their railway training in this part of New Zealand.
“Amongst those who will take special pleasure in the opening of this new station are local organisations which have been working steadily and co-operatively with the Railway Department and the Tourist Department to make known throughout New Zealand and in overseas countries the outstanding scenic resources of Otago and Southland.
“As Mayor of the city, I wish on behalf of the people of Dunedin and the surrounding districts to thank the Minister of Railways, the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, and, through him, the Government for the courage and enterprise, the foresight and vision they have shown in providing this splendid structure as a terminal for the many road services of which Dunedin is the natural headquarters.”
The building represented the last word in modern design and construction for the purposes the Railways administration had in mind. It would give added satisfaction in comfort and pleasure, to the large numbers who already made use of the transport services operated by the Railways road fleets centering on Dunedin. It provided a highly efficient contact point with the Department's train services; and it added still another to the notable array of buildings which enhanced and dignified the appearance of the southern city. What the new station would mean to the trade and commerce of Dunedin those immediately concerned would not fall to realise, he added.
“It may seem to some that the building is actually ahead of its time, but when one considers the part it has to play in the greatly increased transport requirements, which will inevitably follow completion of the many major arterial road works now in hand to open up new routes, and through routes in and about the scenic centres of the South Island, I think all will realise that the railway road services new passenger station in Dunedin has been built in the spirit of the pioneers, with confidence and hope in the further rich development of the country.”
Dr. McMillan also extended a welcome to the Minister. Whenever Mr. Sullivan had been in Dunedin he had promised something. The last time he came he gave instructions for the duplication of the line to Port Chalmers, and he also had promised a survey of a tunnel route under Mount Cargill. The speaker referred to the benefits to be derived from such a project, and said he hoped this visit of the Minister would carry the citizens a step nearer that goal.
Referring to the ‘bus station, Dr. McMillan stated it showed there were some things which could best be done by the community rather than by the private individual. It was a communityowned building of which they could all be proud.
Prior to the Minister addressing the
(Photo., “Otago Daily Times.”)
Interior view of one of the parking areas.
“It has been my pleasure and privilege, since taking over the portfolio of Railways four years ago, to take part in several functions associated with important improvements introduced on the New Zealand railways,” stated the Minister of Railways (Hon. D. G. Sullivan) when officially opening the new railway ‘bus terminal. “These improvements are all part of the work upon which the Government is engaged in the course of developing New Zealand to make its resources, industrial, social and scenic, increasingly available to its people.
“Hence I regard this occasion, the official opening of the Railway Road Services new passenger station in Dunedin, as just one more step in the irresistible march of progress in that branch of Dominion affairs associated with transportation. In this connection we have had, in the past year or two, the opening of Wellington's new station, the electrification of the Johnsonville suburban line and the introduction there of electric ‘multiple unit passenger trains, the completion of the Mohaka Viaduct and the opening of the Napier-Wairoa-Waikokopu section of the Napier-Gisborne railway, the introduction and extension of rail-cars on various lines, and the commencement of work on a new station and railway yards at Christchurch.
“Today's function is one of great national, as well as local, importance, for although the immediate purpose of this new road services passenger stations is to meet the needs of the railway road services now operating to and from Dunedin, it is designed on a scale sufficiently ample to provide for the many extensions of road services which must follow the completion of certain important works upon which my friend and colleague, the Hon. R. Semple, Minister of Public Works, and his department, have been devoting much thought and energy. I refer to such great arterial highways as that intended to link up Dunedin with Milford Sound and the many scenic resorts in that vicinity, and with Westland via the Haast Pass Road.
“Anyone who cares to examine this building in all its features—its modern design, its care for the convenience and comfort of passengers, its broad platforms and open floor space, its facilities for the repair and servicing of vehicles, and its accommodation for the recreation as well as the work of the Department's employees will, I think, agree with me that even the most hardened advocate of private enterprise in everything would not have expected, in our time, to see a building like this provided here under a free-for-all dispensation of unregulated road competition. On the other hand, all will agree, I believe, that the facilities provided are not in excess of what should be given under any well-ordered transport system for the convenience, safety, and comfort of travellers.
(Photo., “Otago Daily Times.”)
Servicing cars in the modern workshop.
“So the present building may be regarded as one more proof of the fact that, at least in the field of transport, private enterprise is not capable of meeting all public requirements,” the Minister said. “The corollary of this is, of course, that when the State, on behalf of all the people, provides the adequate facilities, then it is not reasonable that private enterprise should be able to exploit for private profit what it has required so large a measure of public expenditure to provide. This reasoning applies not only to the provision of adequate buildings for transport, but also to the construction of new roads through territory, such as that at Milford Sound through the Homer Tunnel, that private enterprise could not possibly have opened up.
“I have just come down from the opening of the Centennial Exhibition at Wellington, where the Railways Department's exhibit has attracted a great deal of favourable comment; yet there is nothing exhibited on the model railway there that is not already incorporated in New Zealand's national transportation system. And the fact that the miniature display there provided has proved so appealing to the public is as good an indication as one could wish that the railways, take them all in all, really are up-to-date and fit to play an increasingly important part in the life of the Dominion.”
“When the Government decided to extend the co-ordination of railway and road services, it was felt that the job could be done in a manner worthy of the Dominion. The purpose was to en
“In other words,” the speaker continued, “the intention was to provide the best possible transport by rail and road for the general public, having regard to the varying economic factors associated with each of the districts concerned.
“How far we have succeeded in this effort those who have occasion to use the services provided by the Railways Department, whether by road or rail, are in the best position to judge,” he added. “And as Minister I may say that for one complaint that reaches me there are a hundred communications couched in the most complimentary terms.
“Typical of these is a letter now to hand received by the General Manager, Mr. Mackley, from an overseas' railway engineer, following his recent visit to the Dominion. The writer states: ‘The chief mechanical engineering department's officials here were tremendously interested in the rolling stock, and were amazed at your engines, while, as for the electric trains and Diesel coaches—they couldn't admire them enough.’ He goes on: This is not flattery, Mr. Mackley, but the honest description of the comments passed; and everyone here who knows anything of rolling stock and coach building is astounded to learn that you made them in your own workshops.'”
The function concluded with the singing of the National Anthem, the guests then adjourning upstairs to afternoon tea.
Dunedin's new railway ‘bus terminal, is an imposing addition to the modern and up-to-date buildings of the city.
The contractors for the building, which is the largest ‘bus terminal in the Dominion, and in which will be parked about 40 ‘buses, were Messrs. W. H. Naylor Ltd. and the architects, Messrs. Miller and White. An idea of the size of the new building may be gleaned from the fact that its greatest length is 405 ft.
The entrance to the concourse is made from Cumberland Street, and immediately one is struck by the modern and simple, yet most effective, designs that have been carried out. The floors of the concourse are laid in terrazzo, the walls being done in Hanmer marble. The base is in Belgium black, with the opening surrounds in West Coast green marble. The colours of the terrazzo floor are nicely contrasting cream and green. The walls are designed in a most modern way, straight lines being a feature.
It is obvious that construction of the building has been made with a view to utilising to the best purpose all the space available, and so far as the ‘bus services are concerned everything is on the one floor, the whole building being constructed of reinforced concrete. From the Cumberland Street entrance one approaches the ticket window, and handily situated are the ‘bus manager's office, the staff room, and a tobacco and newsagent's stall. In the concourse are also two public telephone rooms, and off it ladies' and men's cloakrooms.
An interesting feature is that the parcels room on the ground floor is connected with the loading balcony on the floor above with a luggage lift. This loading balcony is erected at the same level as the top of a ‘bus, and circling the central portion of the building it enables the quick discharge of top loads from incoming and outgoing ‘buses.
The departure platform is on the east side of the building and the arrival platform on the west side. Within easy access is the workshop, which is one of the newest features concerned in the construction of the building, the floor of the workshop being level with the bottom of the pits. Actually, the level of the ground floor is just a few inches above street level, and the only excavation that had to be carried out in the construction of the building was that in connection with the sunken workshop, the level of the pits and the level of the floor of the sunken workshop being the same. A Morris hoist for lifting any portion of the ‘bus is installed in the workshop, which, in common with the rest of the building, is centrally heated. Attached to the workshop is a mechanics' room with two showers and conveniences attached.
(Photo., R. Wilson Brown.)
‘Buses departing from the new terminal.
The roof of the building has been designed along the lines of those constructed in wool stores, and some of the longest main-trusses in the South Island have been used in the saw-tooth roof, the longest being 110ft.
Facing the departure platform are the drivers' room, staff messroom, boiler room, accounts, and traffic inspector's rooms. On the Cumberland Street frontage is a taxi concession in which there is space for two taxis, cupboards and telephones being attached. The paint and body repair shops are towards the Rattray Street end of the building, and adjacent to the arrival platform are the washing bay, greasing pit, and stores.
Housed in the ‘bus terminal on the ground floor will be the assistant locomotive engineer and the car and wagon inspectors' offices, which are at present occupying more or less temporary premises.
The amenities for railway employees have been greatly improved with the opening of the new terminal, for on the mezzanine floor are three committee rooms and a library, and the top floor comprises a social hall, with stage and two dressing rooms attached, ladies' and men's cloak rooms, supper room, and kitchen.
Clerk of works on the railway ‘bus terminal has been Mr. F. Russell, who filled a similar position at the Wellington railway station for four years, and at the Auckland railway station for two and a half years.
By …
James Cowan
Kinble Bent (Ringiringl) in 1909.
(All Rights Reserved)
Some of the outlanders who took to the blanket in the ‘Sixties, men who were “on the run,” or hiding out in the bush, because of disagreement with the Law, became as Maori as the Maoris. Most of them were deserters from the Army, and I could hardly blame them, after hearing their stories of the intolerable bullying ways of the Regular officers and N.C.O.'s in “Mrs. Victoria's wars,” as Kipling called them. Once they ran from camp or barracks, they were men of the Maori kainga and the bush for life. Two in particular whom I knew were Maori in all but colour in their old age. White men who ran from the British colours always found a welcome just across the frontier. At any rate they were spared bullet or tomahawk, but they did not take a chief's status, as some of them probably expected. They shared the communal life of the tribe that adopted them, none went hungry or lacked shelter. They were supplied with wives by the chief of the tribe or hapu if some women did not take a fancy to them at first sight. But their position usually was little better than that of a taurekareka (slave) or pononga (servant), or herehere (prisoner).
A “White Maori” whom I knew very well over a period of about twelve years, was Kimble Bent, who was of partly North American Indian blood, a fact that accounted to a large degree, I think, for his rebellion against strict Army discipline. He had a very unhappy time in Her Majesty's forces. He had first been in the U.S. Navy, and then when “on the spree” in Liverpool he enlisted in the 57th Regiment, called the “Die-Hards.” He deserted from a Taranaki camp in the second war of the Sixties, and for the rest of his life he lived with the Maoris, nearly all the time in Taranaki. I gathered together his reminiscences of wild life in the bush into a book, “The Adventures of Kimble Bent,” which was published in 1911. The old man lived for six years after I wrote the book, and in that time I heard from him a great deal more about his life as a fugitive from the pakehas. Some of his tales of the true adventure were concerned with his acquired knowledge of the strange mental powers which the people of the bush possess, their esoteric or supernatural wisdom. He came to believe that the Maori tohunga possessed certain branches of knowledge that was unknown to the pakeha, and undoubtedly one of the hidden powers was the ability to exercise mysterious influence over people at a distance, an influence so great as to cause death. Willing to death in fact. I do not think the present generation of Maori is capable of absorbing the secret education which the last of the tohungas could have passed on.
Undoubtedly the last generation could exercise powers of life and death by some process of mental wireless. During his more than forty years of life with the people of the bush and the frontier, Kimble Bent had encountered many proofs of this; and one episode in the Taranaki country I shall narrate, as an example of the practice of makutu, in which he firmly believed himself. It occurred at Taiporohenui, near the present town of Hawera, in 1879, when many Maori communities, especially those people who had been through the war, lived almost entirely in their old native ways.
* * *
A chief of the Ngati-Ruanui, the tribe of bushmen and warriors of South Taranaki was Kimble Bent's rangatira, his master and owner. The old pakeha refugee usually spoke of him as “my rangatira.” His name was Matangi-oRupe. He had given the white man his daughter to wife; she was lately dead. The youngest child of the Rupe family was a boy named Whai-Pakanga. He fell mysteriously ill; some unknown malady which deyeloped into a high fever was visibly weakening him. He seemed very near to death; but the parents had no thought of sending for a pakeha doctor, though there was one in Hawera township. This was “Mate Maori,” which no doctor could cure. It was a case for the tohunga.
Rupe, in this emergency, called in a tohunga. There was one who lived near the mouth of the Kapuni River. He was not the only medicine man, but there was none with Hupini's occult powers, which were more potent than any bush medicine concocted from the leaves and roots of the native plants. Hupini was a diviner, a sorcerer if you like, a mesmerist, an expert in the casting of spells and curses that could kill even at a great distance. If there
The tohunga was a tall lean old man, sharper of features than most Maoris, whose deep-set glittering eyes looked out through a mask of blue black tattoo. He presently came at his kinsman's call, and closely inspected his case.
After a long, intent, silent scrutiny, Hupini left the small wharau, a thatched hut, in which the sick boy was lying, apart from the dwelling of the family. Rupe anxiously awaited the wise man's verdict.
Hupini gave it in two words:
“Kua makuturia” (“He is bewitched”).
Who could have exercised the deadly art on the boy? Rupe could not think of any one who had cause to hate him or his family, at any rate to the point of murder.
The tohunga left for a neighbouring village of his kinsfolk, telling Rupe he would return on the following morning, and would then discover who had wrought this black magic on the boy. The family must be ready by dawn, and must have a kauhoa, or litter, to carry the turoro—the invalid—to the river below the kainga.
The sun had not yet risen when a little procession moved from Rupe's manuka-fenced courtyard and passed down the hill to the small stream that flowed around the outskirts of the kainga. The turoro was carried upon a bush stretcher by Rupe and his white man Kimble Bent. The tohunga walked in front; his lips moved in a muttered incantation. Behind the turoro's litter walked Rupe's mother and her children. At such a scene as this only the immediate relatives of the sick one could be present. Bent was regarded as one of the family.
At the bank of the little brook, slipping down through the fern and shrubs, Hupini bade the bearers set the sufferer down. Then, watched in painful intense silence by the little group, Hupini plucked from the centre of a clump of toctoe, or swamp-grass, three long shoots (rito).
With these toetoe shoots in his left hand, Hupini held them up in view of the watchers. Then he took one of them in his right hand, and raising it in the air, he said: “Tenei mo te iwi”–(“This is for the tribe”), and stuck it upright in the ground, close by the margin of the stream. Taking the second rito, he cried, “Tenei mo te turoro” —(“This is for the sick one”), and set it in the soft ground. Holding up the third toetoe stalk the priest, addressing Rupe, said, “This is for the evil man who has wrought evil on your child.” This also he set in the ground. Then he said to Rupe: “The man who has bewitched your son is a close relative of yours. What shall I do with him?”
The father replied: “Tukua kia mate!”–(“Let him die!”)
The three toctoe stalks, spoken of as toko or pou (staff, pillar), stood in a row by the stream-edge. A curious thing now happened. Just as the father had replied, “Let him die!” Kimble Bent's dog, which had followed the party down from the village, ran forward and pulled the third toko—the enemy tohunga's toko—out of the ground, and let it drop a few feet away. The priest did not interfere. He watched the dog, and said to Bent, “He atua to kuri! He atua ki a kpe! Kia pai te atawhai i te tangata!” (Your dog is a god! You, too, have a god! Be kind and harm not men!”) He probably thought that the white man had some knowledge of makutu, and therefore warned him to be careful.
Now the priest began his incantations. In quick rhythmic tones he uttered these words (translated):
A Taranaki family: Whare-aitu and his wife and children, of Taiporohenui.
This opening karakia was in effect an appeal to the gods to reveal the cause of the makutu. The Po, or Night, personified the powers of evil. (A Maori “Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord.”)
Then the priest placed his hands on the two tokos which remained upright and recited a short prayer, which I translate from Bent's recital. The purport of this karakia was; “Release the evil spirit from this sufferer, O Spirits of the Earth. Release this evil spirit, O Spirits of the Sky! Let the evil fly from him, let it be cast from him, from the body of this sacred one, of this chief!”
This invocation ended, the priest picked up the tokos representing the invalid and the tribe from the ground, and going to a small tree which stood on the stream side he carefully laid them in a fork of the branches. They were now tapu, and must not be allowed to lie about where anyone might unwittingly touch them. The toko pulled out of the ground by the pakeha-Maori's dog was allowed to lie where it was.
Now the tohunga recited in quick, sharp tones his magic death-dealing incantation, the “Karakia whakemate.” It invoked the Powers of Darkeness, “The day of lowering sky, the day of retribution.”
Its burden was, “Let this evil man, the worker of witchcraft, be destroyed, be utterly destroyed. Let him go unto the Night, the Great Night, the Long Night, the Night of Black Darkness!” The wizard ended his curse, “Thou art done forever with this world!” on a long breath with a quick forward jerk of his hand, and his glassily-set eyes projected until they seemed to start out of his head.
* * *
This ended the ritual. The priest resumed his ordinary air and tone and said to Rupe: “Carry the boy back to your home. He will recover now. Before many days you will hear more news.”
The Rupe household returned to their kainga. The boy began to recover fast, and in a few days was well. Faith had worked wonders. As for the enemy who had—according to Hupini—wrought the evil deed, the curse fell quickly. Hupini had told Rupe his name; it was that of a relative of his who lived at Parihaka, and who had some reputation as a tohunga and a caster of spells. In a week news came from Parihaka that this man had died suddenly; cause unknown. In the minds of Rupe and his household—and also in that of the to hunga—there was no doubt whatever as to the cause of death. That was the old pakeha-Maori's story. For his own part, he had no doubt whatever as to the guilt of the Parihaka dealer in magic and spells. And he was firmly convinced also that it was the superior spiritual power, the mana tapu of Hupini, that had prevailed over the inferior knowledge and skill of the secret enemy. Fatal projection of thought, the victory of mind over matter and distance, or whatever the pakeha wise men may call it, it was undoubtedly a power that certain tohunga Maori once possessed, and that not very long ago.
Echoes Of Maoriland
Many years ago, in the Sanitarium Gardens, in Rotorua, there lived a happy monkey family, consisting of Jacko, Jennie, and the small baby monkey. As a rule they occupied a large roomy cage, but after the arrival of the baby, Jennie was chained to a large tree and the little one played about her. Near the tree was a large boiling hole, with a railing around it. This hole has never been fathomed and is blue-looking and bubbling, whilst the sides cave ever under and outwards. The young monkey, one day feeling more adventurous than usual, climbed the tree and fell from a branch into the boiling hole below.
The unfortunate little creature was never seen again, and the behaviour of the bereaved mother was pitiful. She just sat by the big tree, where she was when the accident happened; she never ate nor drank again and within a week she was dead; literally fretted to death. Now Jacko was a friendly fellow, and tame, but following the two tragic deaths, he attacked the keeper, and poor Jacko had to be destroyed.
Thus ended the happy lives of a model family, and after hearing this, one can hardly say animals have no feeling of poignant sympathy and love.
—Alma Lewin.
Progressive New Zealand Industries
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
The illustrations show: (1) Making golf-bags at Darlow's, Auckland. (2) Corner of storeroom at Darlow's. (3) Four stages in the growth of Hannah's, Wellington. (4) Corner of sewing-room, Slippers Ltd. (5) Social hall and lunch-room at Slippers Ltd., Lower Hutt. (6) Close-up of machine tacking tops to last, Duckworth's, Christchurch. (7) Workroom showing modern production system in operation, Duckworth's, Christchurch. (8) The Stuck-on sole process at Bridgen's Auckland.
Rly. Publicity photos)
When man found that it was necessary to go in for foot coverings, two distinct methods were used. Naturally they were the products of differing environments. There was the sandal tied to the ankle by strings or straps, which was a protection for the sole of the foot, and there was the moccasin which was a skin wrapped round the foot and fastened along the instep. The modern shoe or boot, although taking fantastic forms through the ages, is a combination of both methods. As far back as Minoan times, the top-boot is seen in drawings, giving the hunter protection for the calf of the leg, and, of course, we all remember in our school-books, the pictures of the Edwardian courtiers wearing shoes with toes so long that they had to be fixed to the knee with foppish trappings. The Romans, with their characteristic common sense, stuck to the sandal idea, so suitable to their climate, though there were plenty of freak fashions in footwear in those spacious days of the Caesars.
“There's nothing like leather,” is an old saying, and the dressing and tanning of leather has risen all over the world to the stature of an art. The use of chromium, salts for “chrome” leather, and other scientific discoveries have revolutionised the processing of hides. New Zealand is a land of boundless riches in hides and skins, and one would expect the leather manufacturing industries to be well advanced.
Prejudices about New Zealand-made shoes are stupid: New Zealand materials are exactly the same as those used anywhere in the world; the standards of plant, equipment, and inspection systems are right up-to-date. As with all other industrial institutions in New Zealand, I found that the executives of the boot manufacturing factories were constantly moving about the world, examining new methods and getting “close-ups” of modern trends and fresh inventions.
The five-storey block of Hannah's Shoe Factory is a familiar landmark in Wellington. In one of its rooms, I looked at an entry made in Charleston, on the West Coast, whence came so many of New Zealand's history makers. It is in the handwriting of the late Robert Hannah and reads: “Tues., 28th June, 1868. ‘Slept in Own Shop.’” The young emigrant from the North of Ireland had come to New Zealand in 1866, and after a couple of years about the diggings, had decided to set up in the business he knew so well. Here is another entry which will refresh many a memory: “Mon., 15th June, 1872 … T. G. Macarthy, Repairs, 1/-.”
Handworkers on heavy boots, Hannah's, Wellington.
In 1866, the account of R. Hannah was opened with the Bank of New South Wales, and it is still in existence. The full story would need the dimensions of a full-length novel. In 1874, the West Coast business had grown to such an extent that its founder resolved to move to Wellington, and old identities will remember his combined shop and factory in Cuba Street with its early New Zealand verandah. Twenty years later, the Palace Boot Factory of five floors was put up in Lambton Quay; a decade later, the great Leeds Street Factory, soon to be become the administration premises and warehouse for the present great building, the largest of its kind in New Zealand, and rivalling the largest boot manufacturing plants in the Empire. More than 750 New Zealanders derive their livelihood from R. Hannah & Co. Ltd., and the company owns and operates 42 retail shops, giving a national coverage of every important centre in the land.
It is no wonder that when Charleston was paid a visit by its own “Bobbie” Hannah, the town gave him the equivalent of a triumphal procession.
I was taken through the vast establishment by a foreman whose service with the company exceeded forty years. He had spent two years in America, familiarising himself with the methods of the famous Selby Factory, and the assembly of plants and the systems of any countries were familiar to him. He was sincerely of the opinion that Hannah's were abreast of modern footwear-making in all respects.
The huge factory is rather like a selfcontained township; its spaciousness and actual size are impressive, and one gets the feeling of a large and busy population.
Hannah's make the whole range of footwear, from the smart feminine street shoe to the man's welted brogue, from the schoolgirl's sandal to the heavy military boot.
“Clicking” room at Hannah's, Wellington.
We went first to the preparing rooms, where the multitudinous patterns are cut, where skiving, perforating and other processes are carried on. “Skiving,” by the way, means shaving off the leather, and “clicking” means cutting out the uppers, and so on. This work is done by hand at Hannah's, for with leather at three shillings per foot, human care is worth its place. The various leathers come from all parts of the world, a substantial proportion of course being New Zealand-grown and tanned. Leather is a natural product, and its variations depend largely on environment and other regional circumstances. For instance, calf-skins come largely from France and the other countries that eat veal freely.
The “chain” system of operations enters largely into this modern factory's organisation. Each man does one operation with skill and speed, and the article passes on, after inspection at chosen points.
At the ends of these lines, the shoes pour off for the finishing processes, and the imagination boggles at the moving masses of five-tier trolleys laden with shoes, taking selected routes like a crowd of trams at a Centennial Exhibition rush hour.
I had a look at a “Consolidated Laster.” This uncanny, almost human mechanism, grabs the leather upper, pinches and shapes it round and tacks it on, all in the same operation, at the rate of 150 tacks a minute, the operative working a simple knee-grip device.
The Shoe Seat machine puts in eighteen tacks at one shot, and the Pulling Over machine pulls the toe into position and drives in the tacks at the same time. The tacks run down parallel tubes into their proper positions. The machine stitching of a welted shoe is an interesting operation, for no handwork could get the same strength and durability.
All shoes are re-blocked, that is to say they are put back on the lasts and go through levelling and fitting processes. The making of heels has more to it than I imagined. The shaped leather layers are stamped out to the exact size, placed together, joined, and then a crusher compresses them and makes the hollow necessary for attachment to the sole.
Shoes on trolleys to finishing department, Hannah's, Wellington.
The soles themselves are cut out by instruments resembling die-presses, and the number, shapes and variety of sizes are bewildering. In the leather storeroom, there is a lesson in general geography. Although a substantial proportion of the materials come from New Zealand, the world is combed by Hannah's for the extraordinary diversity of coloured leathers, fabrics, crepe rubbers, ornaments, and the other thousandand-one things needed to make footwear for New Zealanders.
I found one outstanding fact about wholesale bootmaking; the secret is inspection. Hannah's inspection is constant and thorough-going, and, as they sell their goods only through their own stores, they guarantee every purchase. This giant institution, the achievement of one of our pioneers, is something of which we should be proud. Hannah's is, in truth, a National Footwear Service.
In Christchurch, I paid a visit to Duckworth's Ltd., who make the Matchless Shoe and the Carlyle Slipper. Here is the last word in modernity, and here I learned something of the latter-day American viewpoint on the making of shoes. Duckworth's, established in 1903, are resolutely coping with the demands of the feminine patron who has become “footwear conscious.” They have examined the manufacture of ladies' shoes in every part of the globe. As far as I could gather, the distinctive transatlantic idea was in the making of a wide range of different shapes and even varying dimensions inside the one size. A number 4 shoe will therefore contain changes in design to meet everything almost from a super big-toe to a flat instep, or to a foot which is a 3 3/4 size for length but 4 1/8 for breadth. Intricate modern machinery handles this difficulty, and the other requisite is an enormous assortment of lasts. The wooden lasts, as well as the wooden heels, are turned in Auckland. Duckworth's is an example of the scientific eclecticism I have so often found in New
Machine-room at Duckworth's, Christchurch.
Here again, the sequence processes were in operation. The cooking-room was interesting, large chambers maintained at a gentle heat to both toughen and render the leathers supple.
Pride in workmanship is everywhere, and the factory is equipped with the last word in mechanical appliances. Duckworth's turn out a ladies' shoe as smart, well-fitting and durable as anywhere in the world. In addition, it is worth remembering that this institution keeps hundreds of New Zealanders in useful and agreeable employment. I found 120 girls in the shoe-sewing room alone, and in the clicking and machine departments all the work is done by men. Duckworth's Limited is an example of good New Zealand brains and hands matching the world's achievement in its lines of endeavour.
I got partly away from leather in the journey through the fascinating establishment of New Zealand Slippers Ltd. Here, well over three hundred of our own folk are turning out a dazzling array of slippers at round about 5,000 pairs a day. More startling figures to me were that 2,600 distinct lines are made, and that seventeen different materials were used in the making of the simplest type of slipper.
Here is a different atmosphere; colour riots everywhere, not only reds and blues, yellows and greens, but checks, tartans, silvers, golds and bronze, and others in a kaleidoscope of tints. After looking at the cutting-room, where I saw die-presses running out 4,000 patterns a day, we went to the machineroom where the fabrics are made up. The pattern dies are made here on rather the same principles as those described last month in the Empire Box Company's carton production. From a wooden template, a flexible steel-cutting knife is bent round to the exact shape and size, so that any variation can be handled. This is necessary to meet with the ever-changing designs dictated by fashion and fancy.
Glowing colours in footwear at Slippers Ltd., Lower Hutt.
It was interesting to find that all kinds of elaborate and bespangled dress materials were in use here, in this Lower Hutt factory, often before they reach our leading shops. Under arrangement with Eatough's of world fame, the very last word in the new season's fabrics is sent to Slippers Ltd. Even to the male eye, there was brilliant beauty and originality in scores of these gailycoloured materials, some of them being small picture galleries, notably a luckycharm design. Rows of ingenious machines run by clever fingers stitch these into slipper tops, as an adornment for dainty feet, an exquisitely appropriate use. I should mention that on the day of my visit there was no artificial light in use, the floor space of 35,000 feet with its modern roof-lighting being as clear as day. There is a leather sole department and here I was introduced to the fact that every slipper, felt or leather soled, is made inside out.
Machinery of exceedingly ingenious construction operates plungers and other devices which turn them back to normal with precision, heels first, fronts next. As I went along these rows, I counted slippers of blue and white checks, reds, tartans, rainbow, prunella and Burgundy wine, and lost count in this incredible profusion of butterfly hues. Most slippers are blocked, with almost the same method as felt hats, steamed and settled into permanent shapes. Here again is a place to see lasts by the mile. The array of ornaments is a spectacle—pompoms, fairy feathers, everything in knots, little garlands, brocades, spangles, rosettes, bows, posies, the list is endless. I saw the girl record-holder at work putting blue pom-poms on small slippers, and her fingers seem to fly without effort.
(Continued on page 41
)
ByOriwa Keripi
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
It would take all the pages in two issues of this magazine to give an account in reasonable detail of the wonders of the New Zealand Exhibition; it would take a full month of close but swiftly-made inspection to really see all that it has to offer; it would take five hours inside and four hours outside to walk down the full length of its avenues; there are 37,000 lights, and a million watts are used in the largest electrical illumination ever installed in the Southern Hemisphere. The diorama in the Dominion Court is the largest ever made in the world; 2,233 miles of wiring, and 10,000 feet of fluorescent tubing are included in an electrical equipment which would suffice for a city of 25,000 people; the Playland Park has only been excelled a few times in the size and variety of its devices. This sort of calculation could be extended indefinitely. The adjective has been described as the “enemy of the noun” but this Exhibition deserves and, moreover, cannot be described without the lavish use of the most opulent superlatives even right up to those used in film star publicity.
Perhaps an American friend's observation will provide a key: “This would be a big thing in any country, but for Noo Zealand's million and a half, it just makes out as the world's best job, and I don't mean maybe.” More than one Australian acquaintance awarded it parity with Glasgow, and an English girl who, starting in a spirit of armed neutrality, spent three days of characteristically thorough inspection, admitted this to me: “Yes, there's truth in your Brighter Britain story; I thought till now it was an A. A. Milne.”
This article is intended to be a friendly tabloid guide to highlights only. It must be remembered that at this Exhibition there is something for every kind and degree of human taste. If you are limited to one exclusive hobby, there will be something here to interest you. I have “been to the Exhibition” many times with a wide variety of companions, ranging from a pigeon pair of three and five years respectively to a mixed bag of adults whose range of ideas differed as widely as those of radio listeners. I have also been three times by myself and found my own company bearable for hours on end.
Various types of locomotive injectors are on display at the Railway Department's exhibit.
The full-size front of a “KA” locomotive on display at the Railway Department's exhibit.
My best memory of splendour and surprise arises from my arrival at the main gates one evening when I first saw the colour spectacle in its full glory. It is not only the largest and most intricate, but the loveliest lighting scheme ever planned under the Southern Cross. I advise taking the Kiwi train at least once, so as to get all this colour pageantry in one draught.
A golden roof of light runs from the main entrance to the Tower which is a burning multi-coloured jewel, 170 feet high. At right angles to this is a great band of emerald effulgence, and paralleled is the brilliant blue illumination of the open Courts of the Pioneers and of Progress. These have the rainbow-tinted decorative Band Shells at each end. But the tale is only half told; a complex system of colour changes is continuously operating. In five-minute cycles, all the colours of the prism come into being; fire-red dissolves to orange, blue-green to turquoise, violet to mauve, salmon-pink to rose, and, indeed all the world of tint and hue, softly emerges. The spacious reflecting pools add to the enchantment, and for a focusing point, there is the Central Fountain. Fifty feet of coruscating water-plumes and shimmering
This display is designed to acquaint visitors with the complexity and variety of electrical apparatus used in connection with modern railway operation.
Out of a ripe experience, I suggest seeing the Government Court first. Now, most people enter one great hall or another in a sort of a daze, for the mere size and grandeur of the place baffle the imagination.
“Sets a new standard in train comfort”—the Heath Robinson locomotive.
The plan, after all, is logical and simple. There are two island pavilions, the United Kingdom on the left and the Australian on the right. Passing a reflecting pool on the left, you find the Government Court. From now on you can keep under cover till you have “seen the show.” The Government Court gives on to the Fijian, Samoan, Tasmanian, and Canadian courts, then through the vast Motor and Transport section, you reach the Dominion Court; turning to the right brings you to the superb Assembly Hall, with access to the Women's Court, and carrying on will find you in the Electrical and Engineering display which in turn leads to the two enormous halls devoted to Manufacturing Industries and General Exhibits. In short order, the floors are arranged in a hollow rectangle of which the two sides and the end arc each composed of Courts. I warn readers that it will be difficult to leave the Government Court. Here, in striking and enlightening form, is the whole panorama of New Zealand's social services, its totality of community effort. Every departmental exhibit has its own individuality, and there is not one commonplace exhibit of the “shopwindow” type in the whole vast place.
There will be a crowd at the Railways exhibit, the largest in the Court, and without breaking the “primus inter pares” rule, this is a star show. If you have young folks with you, it would be as well to resign yourself and “call it a day.” I found this true of my friends of all kinds; while someone now and again liked some other sight better, the Railways exhibit was invariably placed next; its appeal seems universal. It consists of a large-scale setting of a New Zealand railway system, complete with our usual supply of tunnel, mountain, viaduct and other familiar features. The only thing wanting, according to my five-year-old lad, was that “the persons on the stations aren't talking.”
Along the intricacy of lines, with their signals, stations, and other appurtenances, run perfectly made models of expresses and goods trains; and there is a rail car for good measure. The train running is operated exactly as in everyday practice, and a good commentator explains the technical working.
There is an air of reality and practicalness about this scene which cannot be translated into words. It has precisely the effect on me, as if I were looking down from a moored aeroplane on the 3 p.m. on its way to Auckland.
One of the highlights for me is the Heath Robinson engine, in which a skilful model artist has given his fancy full throttle. I have not room for the full tally of this wildly humourous cartoon in steel. The cab is a “Home Away from Home,” complete with mantelpiece, grate, clock, family photographs, a wall text, fender, fire-irons, and so on. The “Cowcatcher” has a large mattress on which the newly collected cow reclines in comfort. There is a “wheel wobble determinator” for use after derailments, and there are two pairs of bollards to moor the engine when left overnight anywhere. There are window flower-boxes, hot-water bottles hang gracefully, and there is a fire escape ladder behind the tender. The periscope is also worth some guesswork as to its use. This locomotive gently claims that it “sets a new standard in train comfort.”
Taken as a whole, the Railways Exhibit does all of its intended job; it reveals the modernity, efficiency, and the unsurpassed national service of this vast brotherhood which operates our largest industrial organisation; in other words, the show is a worthy expression of the New Zealand Railways.
An exhibit which causes much interest—the cab of a “
Ka” locomotive.
Nearby, is the Air Department's display. A stroll round this intelligently planned show is an education. On the walls is depicted the whole history of flying in nature, from the clumsy pterodactyl to the albatross, from the first gliding insect to the humming bird; and this is followed by the story of the evolution of the aeroplane. Simple and effective devices show how man's solution was effected, and the basic principles of “heavier than air” man-carrying machines are explained. There are exhibits of huge modern rotary engines and other developments.
The Railways Department's exhibit at the New Zealand Centennial Exhibition.
In close proximity to the Air Department's activities, one finds, at the Post and Telegraph exhibit, a simple working device covering the aerial postal routes from New Zealand to the world's farthest corners. You can work your own lever, and the air-mail will stop at Tiberias, or reach Kansas City. This is a triumph in tabloid depiction of man's progress in this sector of intercommunication. The P. and T. diorama is a romance in colour and movement showing progress in New Zealand; there are radio telegraphs in action, radiotelephone, tele-printing, models and cut
This display shows how tablet instruments are operated.
The Tourist Department's show is divided into eight sections full of new display technique, and remarkable for aesthetic unity of design. Any oversets visitor calling will assuredly want if, make the grand tour of our pocket world.
The Education Department's expansive exhibit is dominated by the enormous revolving Globe whose axis rests in a well court where there is a huge ground map of New Zealand showing by colourful lights the location of every one of our educational institutions. The school exhibits of arts and crafts are amazing; they range from radio cabinets and a veneered deed-box to a complex turning lathe. Modernistic oil paintings vie with a display of 100 dolls, arrayed in every feminine fashion from 1840 to 1940, a good touch being the slightly military flavour of next year's models. In the Native Schools' sections, the immemorial Maori arts are in full glory.
The Housing Construction Department displays its range of designs by scale models, and explains its townplanning system; the Marine Department's great show includes a tank of many fishes, a convincing display of “Safety at Sea” measures, and a splendid ever-curling breaker; the Transport Department runs a unique “Safety First” campaign, with driving test devices, and a hundred and one other sound notions. The Public Works display is on a massive and imposing scale, giving a perfect visual representation of our achievements in building roads, railways, public edifices, and all complete.
It is impossible, in the space allowed, to cover the whole area of this great Court but the Hall of Progress should be mentioned with its splendid murals, and the story of the development of farming.
The Fijian and Samoan Courts are attended by pleasant and cultured folks from their own lands. A fale is building in the Samoan Court, showing that nails are not used, and in the Fijian Court, the exotic products of those sunny lands are on view. I met my first tapioca root, and a bunch of bananas whose size would mean one to a bag. Most visitors will be surprised in these courts at the scale of their industrial undertakings.
A modern carriage bogie of a type at present used on the New Zealand Railways.
The Tasmanian Court is sheerly beautiful, and in a compact fashion gives an idea of this “Little Sister” of Australia which in so many ways resembles New Zealand. Canada, naturally, is on another scale. The largest of the British Dominions has a court of grandeur and impressiveness. Great colour dioramas of a “sunrise to sunset” cycle show the vast extent of Canadian industries, mineral wealth, forests (“a million and a quarter squares miles of trees”). There is a Transatlantic flavour about the figures and distance, 43,000 miles of railways, 420,000 miles of roads. This great spacious court communicates the idea of mature nationhood.
Now for the Dominion Court! Nothing like this has been attempted in the world. In 64,000 square feet, there is contained a three-dimensional representation of the whole of New Zealand. In less time than it takes to read an Edgar Wallace thriller, you can see New Zealand, its towns and cities, its countryside, its industries, its mountain ranges and scenic attractions. This is a miniature of a miniature world. The diorama is arranged in its proper geographical order. The Northland peninsula lies there in exact scale and in its right position. I know Whangarei well, and it looks exactly right; I could single out every building in each street. This applies to every city and town. Each time I have visited the Dominion Court I have heard visitors ecstatically recognising the street they lived or worked in. Even the colours of the individual buildings have been accurately reproduced, from the band (Continued on page 47.)
byArthur L. Stead
New Year Greetings to one and all! Stirring days are these for every individual member of our great Commonwealth of Nations, but with such remarkable unity of purpose, and such faith in the righteousness of our cause, there cannot be the slightest doubt as to the ultimate issue. Nazi aggression is definitely doomed, and sooner or later the world will once again move along the more peaceful paths of progress.
From the heart of the Homeland let me tell you of our deep appreciation of New Zealand's magnificent response to liberty's call. Britain's half-a-million railway workers, like their colleagues in New Zeaalnd, do not seek to crush the honest German worker, but they are determined that never again shall peaceloving individuals here and throughout the world constantly have to exist under the menace of aggression and brute force. Once the misguided German people rid themselves of brutal and senseless authority, good neighbourliness among nations will automatically return and world-peace become an established fact.
Normally, at this season it is my custom to review, in these Letters, the activities of the Home railways during the preceding twelve months. Now, however, this review must give place to a brief account of how the railways are meeting the peculiar conditions with which they are faced, and the remarkable work they are performing in the struggle.
For four months we have been at war with Germany. Since they were taken over by the Government, the Home railways have never before performed such vital national service, and never before have railway employees of every grade worked together more determinedly, or with more successful results. Railways have for long been recognised as the arteries of the army, and the railway machine, harnessed to the tremendous requirements of the Forces and of Home Defence, once again has risen to the occasion in striking fashion. One responsibility alone—that of moving across the Channel men and supplies in the opening stages of the campaign—called for phenomenal effort. Thanks to wellprepared plans, however, and the united and unstinted labours of the railway rank and file, this immense movement was carried through without a single casualty, and now, day by day, vital transportation services between England and France operate as if by clock-work, protected by those two sure shields, the Navy and the Air Force.
Controlling the Home railways, as Chairman of the Railways Executive Committee appointed by the Ministry of Transport, we have that well-known and able officer, Sir Ralph Wedgwood, the former Chief General Manager of the London & North Eastern Railway, who, during the last war, held important Transportation appointments in France and elsewhere. Another most happy appointment is that of Mr. Gilbert S. Szlumper to the post of DirectorGeneral of Transport and Movement at the War Office. Mr. Szlumper vacated the position of General Manager of the Southern Railway to engage in his new work—a job which he actually commenced to study a quarter of a century ago as assistant to Sir Herbert Walker, then Chairman of the Railway Executive
Ambulance cars constructed in Home railway workshops.
Little by little, as the first uncertainties of wartime operation disappear, the ordinary passenger-train services of the Home Railways are being stabilised. At the outset, many of the long-distance expresses were withdrawn, or re-timed so as to permit of stops en route at the principal towns. Restaurant and sleeping-cars ceased to operate, adn everywhere ordinary passenger-trains had to be withdrawn to permit of the passage of troops, supplies, and the like. To-day,
Actually, there is no restriction on civilian railway travel in Britain, nor have there been any increases in passenger fares. Journey times are naturally somewhat longer than in ordinary circumstances, and excursion facilities were withdrawn on the outbreak of war Limited excursion facilities, however, will probably have been resumed before this letter sees the light of day, especially to enable parents to visit their evacuated children in the country at week-ends. Night travel by rail was, for the first month or two of the war, something of an adventure. Because of the necessity for a complete “blackout,” interior lighting of passenger compartments was sometimes impossible, while in other instances only dim lighting was permissible. Now a standardised system of carriage lighting is being developed, both on the main-lines and on the London local systems. In the case of the London Passenger Transport Board services, there was sometime ago installed standardised lighting for use during the “black-out” hours on open sections of line, this applying to the District Railway, and the Northern, Piccadilly, Bakerloo and Central Tube Lines. The regulations allow three special low-wattage lamps, with the lower half of each painted dark blue, to be fitted in each car. In the tunnel sections, full lighting is maintained.
Turning to the freight side, we find various altered arrangements introduced on the Home railways to meet the special conditions. Railway goods depots have, for some time, been closing at 5.0 p.m. for the acceptance of freight, and earlier closing is probable as the days shorten. This is largely to enable the staffs to get through the bulk of their work before darkness falls. In order to facilitate the handling of traffic, goods tendered for conveyance by rail are required to bear a white label clearly addressed in black ink or type. To assist operations during the “blackout,” railway consignment notes have also to be clearly typed or written in black ink. Where a consignment consists of a number of packages or articles, traders are asked to label all packages to facilitate sorting and dispatch. Senders are also encouraged to forward their shipments in bulk as far as possible, to save transhipment and handling generally. As regards road collection and delivery services, these are being maintained in skeleton form, a daily collection or delivery, for example, in one particular rural area, being cut down to a service on alternate days, and so on. Registered transits by the “Blue Arrow” and “Green Arrow” services, and the railway cashon-delivery arrangements, have been withdrawn, and various other subsidiary services curtailed.
Many ticklish problems have been presented by the “black-out” in connection with marshalling-yard operation, but by degrees these have been solved, and it is remarkable how marshallingyard staffs and trainmen are adapting themselves to the necessary lighting restrictions. Passenger stations, of course, have to be watched as regards the obscuring of lights, and roof glass has been specially treated. Locomotive precautions include the use of blue headlamps, and the fitting of anti-glare curtains to engine cabs. Colour light signals and station hand-lamps are controlled by the employment of long shades over the lenses. A.R.P. activities of the railways also include the provision of secure shelters at the principal stations for the use of passengers and staff, while as a measure of precaution many headquarters and divisional offices have been moved to safe sites in the country, merely skeleton staffs being maintained in the city offices.
Interior of Casualty Evacuation Train showing arrangement of stretchers on brackets.
At this time, every branch of the Home railway service is engaged on the most vital work in freedom's cause. Recently we were enabled to view a typical railway workshop activity—the conversion of ordinary passenger-trains for use as ambulance trains and for casualty evacuation service.
Each of the Home railways is constructing ambulance trains for use both at Home and overseas. Several trains already have been completed, and to enable further trains to be placed into service rapidly, work upon different sections has been entrusted to various railway shops throughout the country. Each of the trains is fully equipped for travelling staffs of nurses and doctors, kitchens, and wards for stretcher and sitting-up cases. Cars also are provided for infectious cases and as travelling pharmacies. Casualty evacuation trains are available for immediate use in the event of casualties occurring through air-raids, in order to assist in the distribution of injured civilians to hospitals throughout the country. The fitting-up of these trains includes electric lighting and steam-heating, and numerous devices are incorporated to ensure the comfort of patients.
All things considered, the Home railways have real reason for pride in their accomplishments of recent months. Best of all, every one of the half-amillion railway workers on the payroll, convinced of the ultimate victory of democracy, faces the future with extreme confidence.
(Batt, photo.)
Mr. John Henry Baucke.
Centennial year will no doubt set many an old pioneer remembering, and many a tale will be told of hardship and adventure in New Zealand's early days. There may, indeed, be such a wealth of material at hand that the story of some of the more outlying and lesswell-known parts of our Dominion may be overlooked. Who, for instance, will remember the Chathams, that little group which was the last refuge of the Moriori, and which lies five hundred and thirty-six miles due east from Port Lyttelton and is included in the Lyttelton electorate? Mr. Edward Baucke, now of Taupiri, South Auckland, remembers the Chathams very well, for he was born there, nearly eighty-two years ago. He was the son of one of the first missionaries, and spent all his boyhood and early manhood in the islands.
The Chathams were discovered by Commander Broughton of the brig Chatham in the year 1791. The group consists of two main islands, Wharekauri or Chatham, and Rangiauria or Pitt Island, and a third, much smaller, called South East Island. There are, too, a number of rocky islets, inhabited now only by sea-fowl, but in Mr. Baucke's boyhood, by seals also. The largest island, Chatham, has an area of 222,000 acres, but the interior is very low-lying and consists almost entirely of peat swamp and lagoon. The coastal area, though much of it is forest-clad, has nevertheless some excellent farming land. Only the two larger islands are inhabited, the third being used for grazing some five or six hundred sheep.
About the year 1840, Mr. Edward Baucke's father, John Henry Baucke, was sent by the Berlin Missionary Society, together with four other missionaries, to establish a mission at Akaroa. The others' names were Muller, Engst, Beyer and Shirmaister, the last-named being the leader. Six months' passage in a whaler from Hamburg brought the little band to Akaroa, only to find that a mission was already established there. They proceeded to Wellington to confer with Bishop Selwyn, and were eventually sent to the Chathams.
At this time the islands were peopled predominantly by Maoris, though only a comparatively few years before, the population had been Moriori entirely. This peace-loving people had, however, fallen an easy prey to the mere handful of warlike Maoris which first descended upon them in their island refuge.
Puki-ukio, Chatham Islands.
The Moriori population in 1800 was estimated at two thousand. In 1835 a careful estimate by Mr. Mair reduced the number to sixteen hundred. Thirteen years later, a census taken by Bishop Selwyn brought the total down as low as two hundred and sixty-eight. This wholesale decimation, begun by the invasion of the Maoris, was further hastened by a severe epidemic of influenza about the year 1838, which
The Moriori were essentially peaceloving, and although they fought against each other in tribal quarrels, there existed an unwritten law among them that killing was forbidden, and at the first sign of bloodshed a truce was called. No wonder that the fierce and warlike Maoris found them easy victims!
The German missionaries landed in the islands without mishap. Their future flock, amongst whom they found a number of renegade white men, seemed well-disposed towards them, so, having decided on a suitable situation for their main mission station, they set to work without delay on the erection of the buildings. Besides being missionaries they were all skilled tradesmen, carpenters, blacksmiths and the like, and they were well supplied with tools. They applied themselves diligently, also, to learning the Maori language, and to the arduous task of felling and clearing the bush in order to bring their land under cultivation. Wheat was first chipped in with adzes, and when ready for harvest, reaped with a sickle and thrashed with the old-fashioned flail. Finally, the grain was ground with two hand-steel flourmills that the missionaries had brought with them. The Maoris were exceedingly good to them, and provided for them generously until they had established themselves.
Work was hard and life rigorous for the missionaries, but they were diverted nevertheless by a glimpse of true romance.
Kaingaroa Harbour, Chatham Islands.
After a time, the missionaries, with some misgiving, opened a school. To their surprise and gratification the attendance on the first day exceeded expectations, and continued thus for about a week. Then, one morning, instead of pupils, they were confronted by a body of angry parents. When were they going to be paid, they demanded. “Paid?” echoed the startled missionaries, “Paid? For what?” For allowing their children to come to the school of course, rejoined the deputation with some heat. The situation was explained as tactfully as possible, but the indignant parents withdrew huffily, accompanied by offspring, and the school had necessarily, if regretfully, to be closed.
When the mission had been established about three years, the authorities in Berlin sent out three young women—two of them nursing sisters in the Berlin General Hospital—to be helpmates for the missionaries.
The old home of Mr. Edward Baucke, Maunganui, Chatham Islands.
When the selection of partners had
The future held hardships and privations in plenty for the woman who had once held a responsible position in a great city hospital. In the most primitive conditions, and with the help only of Maori women, she bore and reared a family of nine healthy children. Luxuries were absolutely unheard-of, and even things regarded today as the barest necessities were quite unprocurable. These included tea and sugar, and more than those, milk, butter and cheese, for cows were not imported into the islands for many years afterwards.
On the other hand, the Chathams were rich in natural foods. The coastal waters teemed with fish, notably the delectable rock cod, a delicacy which Mr. Baucke remembers being able simply to “swish” out of the surf on to the rocks with the hands. The lakes and streams were equally rich in eels, and there were birds too, in plenty, especially the grey duck, which in those days congregated on the lakes in thousands.
Like all places where the white man has set his foot, the Chathams have changed greatly in the past sixty or seventy years. When Mr. Baucke was a boy, the islands in the spring and summer were made glorious by the blooming of the Chatham Island lily–myosotis nobilis—a species of giant forget-me-not with leaves almost as big as those of rhubarb and huge clusters of sky-blue blossoms. Acres and acres of these beautiful flowers lay spread like a heavenly carpet alt over the coastal areas of the islands. Now the Chatham Island lily is very rare indeed, growing only, and that with reluctance, in the most inaccessible places. The ravages of stock, which, when finally brought to the islands, ate it with great relish, have been largely responsible for its dying out.
In Mr. Baucke's boyhood, seals too were very plentiful in Chatham Island waters, which were regarded as excellent sealing-grounds. Then, quite suddenly, and almost without warning, the seals just disappeared. Whales also, were very common, and often lay stranded on the beaches. The visits of whalers, most of them American, were the highlights of the lonely and uneventful childhood of the missionary children. When a whaler came, it was usually to trade with the Maoris for potatoes, with the best of the bargain, of course, for the whaler. Mr. Baucke recalls the visits of whalers during the Australian gold-rush. For a few yards of scarlet cotton cloth, an axe, or a trinket or two, the Maoris would trade huge quantities of potatoes. It was afterwards found that, owing to goldrush conditions, potatoes were selling, at that period, at £60 and £70 a ton.
The children loved the visits of the whalers for another reason, too, for from them was to be obtained the only sweetstuff and luxury they knew —black molasses. To their sweetstarved little palates it was nectar of the gods indeed!
The education of their children was a matter of some concern to the missionaries. Sometimes they managed to secure a tutor for a few months, or a year, but none would stay very long in the lonely islands. Then the missionaries would add the teaching of their children to their other duties. The eldest of the Baucke children was particularly clever, and showed such promise that he was sent to Wellington to be educated. He was William Baucke, who afterwards became a noted Maori scholar and interpreter, and wrote the well-known book, “Where the White Man Treads.”
The missionary children had a hard life (judged by modern standards) but they grew up healthy, vigorous, resourceful and plucky. Two of the Baucke boys, aged about ten and twelve years, were, as it happened, left alone in the house at a time when there were rumours of a Maori “scare.” Te Whiti, a Taranaki chieftain, was reported to be bearing down on the Chathams with the object of killing the entire white population. During the whole of one night the two boys heard footsteps and voices around their lonely home.
And what is the most brightly shining memory in Mr. Baucke's rich store? To that question he unhesitatingly replies, “Oh, my first visit to Wellington!” He was about ten years old and he can still recall, he says, the sense of mystery and enchantment with which Wellington inspired him. The elegant houses, to him who had seen only whares; the glittering shops; the marvellous shipping from which he could scarcely be torn away; and more than all, the palace of wonders that was the old Club Hotel—red carpets, stuffed chairs and a piano! To the wide-eyed small boy from the Chathams it was a veritable fairyland.
Mr. Baucke has travelled far since then, and both he and Wellington have changed much, but, he confesses that the Empire City still has for him an enduring glamour. She has never quite released him from the spell she cast more than seventy years ago.
New Zealand
Verse
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In a small green-walled bay on the West Coast, known to fishermen as Northport anchorage, lies the headquarters of one of the richest fishing grounds in New Zealand waters. Here, with the glorious green of the West Coast Sounds in the background and the wide rolling ocean in front, a small community of hardy seamen spend the fishing season, shut away from the rest of the world for months on end.
The centre of the fishing settlement is the Stella, a vessel of about 350 tons, whose ocean-going days are a thing of the past. Once she traded between Australia and New Zealand, doing service also as a coastal steamer, but now she lies securely moored beneath the bush-clad hills of Northport Bay, her barnacled sides and rusty covering telling their own story. Her freezer, which has accommodation for 500 cases of fish, and which is worked by means of a diesel engine, is the store-house for the fish brought in at the end of the day by the small fleet of fishing boats. A caretaker and his wife—the sole woman of the community, live in comfortable quarters on the Stella throughout the season. They are responsible for the packing and final cleaning of the fish, which have been previously roughly cleaned by the fishermen. After scrubbing with brushes the fish are packed into cases, allowed to drain for a time, and finally placed in the freezer.
All stores and provisions are brought by the freight ship to the Stella, later to be transhipped to the launches of the fishermen. Periodically, when the weather permits, the frozen fish is carried by this same ten-ton freighter back round the coast to the Port of Bluff, where it is readily absorbed for local consumption and for export. The carrying capacity of the freighter is 300 cases, so that if the weather becomes sufficiently rough to hold up transport for several weeks—as it sometimes does—difficulties present themselves. Stores sometimes run out, and the men are forced to bake their own bread. Deer, which abound in plenty in these parts, are frequently shot and added to the larder. Also the paua shell-fish which lives on the rocks in and about the sounds, is considered a delicacy when cooked properly, while mussels which are gathered at full moon, (so the fishermen tell us) are fattest and best for consumption. On one occasion the mussels were taken from the sides of the Stella, but they had absorbed some poison from their contact with the iron, as the consumers later found to their internal discomfort.
Only in reasonably fine weather may he small fishing craft brave the turbulent waters that abound in this locality. Twelve working days a month is a fair average for a fisherman, but that is sufficient to bring in a substantial cheque. Here, where the fish are both large and plentiful, a skilful fisherman may pull in from 300 to 400 lbs. of, fish per day. Considering the wholesale price ranges round 26/per cwt, one may get a fair idea of the income derived from a good day's toil. However, one must not overlook the fact that rough weather sometimes results in many days of idleness and loss. Strangely enough frosty weather is ideal fishing weather, the bait being more readily snapped up by the finned vertebrate of the deep.
When the first purple streaks of daylight herald the morning, the whitesailed fishing boats put out to sea, and when about two miles off-shore, the engines are cut off, and the boats allowed to drift.
A group of West Cape “toilers.”
Each man manoeuvres two lines, and
The doctors say that many diseases are caught in trains and trams, and that when travelling you should patronise the “Smoker,” and keep your pipe going. Sound advice! Tobacco smoke kills germs. You may say you can't keep smoking all the time, especially on a long journey. It depends on the tobacco. You can't smoke the imported for any length of time, true. Too much nicotine in most of them. And nicotine is an evil thing. It's quite different with the National Tobacco Company's goods, (pioneers of the tobacco industry in N.Z.). Hardly any nicotine in them, and their wonderful purity enables the smoker to indulge freely with absolute safety. And how sweet, cool and delicious they are!–with the finest bouquet imaginable. That's because they are toasted. No other tobacco is. No other tobacco is so harmless. This is the real thing. Favourite brands: Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold (mild), Cavendish (a special medium), Navy Cut (choice blend, medium) and Cut Plug No. 10 (rich, dark and full-flavoured). These tobaccos (now in universal use) are obtainable from any tobacconist.*
Sometimes the lines tangle, and sometimes as many as a dozen sinkers a day are lost through catching on rocks and coral on the ocean's floor. Bits of delicate red coral with fern-shaped leaves and tiny boughs attached are brought up—a fragment of the loveliness that lies unseen beneath those sixty fathoms of water.
Sharks—the most destructive and hated enemy of the fishermen abound in large numbers around the West Cape fishing grounds. It is not an uncommon occurrence for as many as three 3ft. to 4ft. sharks to be caught on a line at once. Two is quite common. The moment a shark is hooked, a shout goes up and other lines on the fishing boat are drawn hurriedly in. One shark —not to mention two or more can do untold damage to lines in a few minutes, as they churn the water and turn in circles, savagely lashing about. The hide of a shark can cut through a line in a short time if not handled dexterously and promptly. A knife thrust through the nose of the shark is the quickest and most effective method of ending its struggles. All sea-toilers rejoice at the death of a shark—one less of the savage and destructive creatures to chase and molest the fish—the fishermen's livelihood!
Northport Bay where snow sometimes cloaks the trees to the water's edge. Boats put out of the fishing grounds from this bay.
Then there are fish which present other difficulties—fish which have to be handled with care because one scratch from their fins means poison to the recipient.
In the heavy swell with the boat pitching and rolling, with spray sometimes drenching the seamen, the job is hardly a comfortable one, but no matter what crazy angle the ship takes on, the men seem to be able to retain their balance. With the constant pulling up of heavy lines on which three and four fish may be caught at once, their hands grow hard and calloused.
At the end of the day comes the cleaning process. In the case of the groper a huge, sharp knife cuts beneath the gills, whips along the front, and with another lightning stroke the cleaning process is completed—a matter of a few moments' work.
Back in the shelter of Northport anchorage again, the fish are loaded on to the Stella, decks are scrubbed, and the small community go below to prepare the evening meal.
A rough life maybe, and a lonely one. But surrounded by the grandeur of nature, where long arms of water are framed with the great forest giants, beneath the shade of which ferns and the lovely nikau palms grow in rich green profusion, where lilies decorate the mountain sides—these men are content! Toilers of the deep—thrilling in, and loving, the work of reaping the ocean's harvest.
Written And Illustrated By
Neville R. Lewers
Sunset at the Mokihinui.
Clematis has come again to the Mokihinui Valley. White as foam on summer seas, white as winter moonlight, it shines from the dark embrace of the trees.
Leave Westport on a blue September morning and take the road to the north. If your choice is made with care, you will be rewarded with that flawless gem, a perfect West Coast day. The way runs along the coastal flat between the sapphire blue of the mountains and the dark blue sea. Far ahead on the curving coast where distance steals the height from the mountains, Kowahaihai and the Heaphy beckon.
Along this coast, almost a hundred years ago, the intrepid surveyors, Heaphy and Mackay, made their first exploratory surveys of this remote district. Accompanied by a Maori guide they made their way along the one practicable route—the seashore; supplementing their inadequate provisions with pipis, mussels and Maori cabbage; climbing by precarious improvised ladders of raupo flax leaves the precipitous headlands which occasionally obstructed their passage; crossing the frequent swift streams on frail rafts fashioned out of flax stems and capable of bearing their weight for only a measured period before inevitably becoming waterlogged; thus slowly and painfully they travelled the 190 miles that lie between the Heaphy and the Okarito.
Thirty miles north of Westport the road turns away from the Coast to follow the Mokihinui.
And now the clematis flashes like a sudden waterfall among the trees. The Mokihinui is a friendly little river with shallow sunlit reaches and quiet green depths which faithfully reflect the infinite variety of the bush-clad banks. Standing on a little shelf above the shining water where the road and railway run side by side, you can look downstream to the river mouth and see the morning sunlight fill the curling Tasman rollers with green light. Years ago there was a railway station on this spot and many years before the railway was built, a wharf stood at this point on the river. If you peer through the bush which clothes the high, steep bank, you can see all that remains of it now —a few posts black with mussel shells sticking out of the water thirty feet below.
An aerial picture of the Mokihinui River, showing Seddonville in the background and the railroad and highway joining to run parallel at the site of the old station.
Fifty years ago coal was loaded into the little steamers which lay at this wharf. The coal was brought from the mines upstream, in drays by road, or in flat-bottom boats by river. Passengers and goods were unloaded here for the township at the mouth of the river and for Seddonville two miles upstream. Of any road or path which must once have given access to the wharf, there is now no trace. Only the blackened posts remain to show that the Mokihinui——like most places on the coast—has a past.
From 1867 when gold was first found here stout little coasting steamers—the Murray, the Nelson, the Bruce, on their way from Nelson to Westport and Hokitika, used to call in here with passengers and cargo. The last steamship to enter the Mokihinui was the Lawrence. She was leaving at noon in April, 1891, when she grounded on the bar. The vessel managed to get off, but having lost her propeller blades, was driven inshore and stranded on the south side of the river entrance. On
Approaching the river, the road forks. One way leads on up river through St. Helen's to Seddonville. The other follows the river down to a little hamlet (Kynnersley) at the river mouth. It is a pretty place with the charm of serenity and remoteness. A few cottages, tree shaded and flower bedecked, cluster round a green and empty space. Over yonder, on the Point, at the edge of the river stands an ancient hotel, the last of six. A gaudy petrol pump waits in front of a creeper-draped house which receives and distributes H.M. mails. And that is all. Not even a school. We passed that at the junction of the roads a mile away. The sea is not visible from here. A small forest of stunted rata separates the further edge of the empty green from the steep shingly shore, and the trees with their wind-bent twisted stems and flattened foliage shelter the village from the tormenting westerlies which blow for three-quarters of the year.
Once this green sunlit space was laid out in streets; there were shops, a Bank of New Zealand, and busy stables from which smart coaches set out three times a week for Westport. Two thousand people worked and loved and played here fifty or sixty years ago. Tall bearded men in moleskins and flannel shirts sought for gold by day and drank and gambled and fought in the six hotels by night. Ladies in old-fashioned finery, starched and ironed their voluminous white petticoats, or gossiped in the shops while choosing the flounced and trained gowns which they would proudly trail across the dancehall floor at night; gathering up the rustling frills with a graceful twist of the wrist to dance the Lancers and the Quadrilles to the music of concertina and violin.
Not a sign of this former pulsing life is to be seen to-day. No grassgrown streets, no sagging doorways or cold and empty hearths remain to tell the casual visitor that life, joyous and vigorous, once surged through this quiet backwater. Over most deserted townships of the goldrush days there broods an air, half tragic, half forlorn, as of one who mourns remembered glories. Kynnersley does not share this mood of desolation shot with triumph. The past seems quite obliterated by the wholesome peace of the present.
Twice a year even now the village comes to life. Shrill voices of children, impatient voices of motor horns, strident voices of portable radios, ripple the surface of the sunny tranquillity for a week or two at Christmas and Easter. Just before we reached the village we passed a delicious sandy bay of bright water. Twice a day the river flows in till it laps the low grassy bank where white daisies grow in these spring days.
Looking back from the famous Karamea Bluff towards the Mokihimi River. The photograph gives some idea of the density of the bush and tall forest trees.
On the way back to the crossroads and our riverside ledge we pass a little graveyard set in a garden of white arum lilies and yellow daffodils. Most of the inscriptions belong to the last century. They lived dangerously in those days: “Drowned on the Mokihinui bar”; “Killed by a fall of earth”; “Swept away while crossing the rocks.” They should sleep well here with the song of the river and the tui for company, while the kowhai slowly drops its gold and the clematis spills white loveliness from the enfolding trees.
Conveyer system at Slippers Ltd., Lower Hutt.
Buy New Zealand Goods.
(Continued from page 20)
The conveyer track is an objectlesson in team-work. Twenty-one operators each handle one process at a time as the tray of shoes is passed down the line.
One unique exhibit was a comely heap of the tiniest slippers; even these miniatures, apparently made to fit elves or very small fairies, were elegant and decorated with minute bows of pink and blue. New Zealand Slippers Limited make every size from Kiddies o's to Men's 13's. The stock-room is a revelation; the world has been ransacked for the range of odds and ends that are needed to produce over 2,500 kinds of slippers. I was pleased to see a vivid blue dyed-sheepskin and to find that 150 dozen of this New Zealand-grown and processed article were used last year.
No wildest flight of fanciful design, no ultra smartness in shape or material, no extreme of luxurious comfort is lacking in the slipper made at New Zealand Slippers Ltd. I suggest a visit there for anyone who is doubtful at all of the modernity or efficiency of New Zealand industrial methods.
Lastly, I paid a visit to the spacious Social Hall, which has a good dance floor, and is naturally in constant use.
I returned to leather at the establishment of W. B. Darlow, in Auckland. Here, good New Zealand leather from the Sutherland Tannery is made into suit-cases, golf bags, and other useful articles, with Rugby and Association footballs for good measure. This is a specialist factory with twenty years of experience, research, and planning behind it. I naturally went first to see the oval of a Rugby ball being made. The segments are first cut with meticulous care, for they dare not be a fraction out of drawing. The stitching and assembling is done inside out, with hempen thread of six strands. The final sewing is most ingenious, but I was like George III. over the dumplings; I could not see how the ball was to be brought the right way round. The last stitches go in through the mouthpiece, and a sort of sleight of hand brings the leather right side outwards. The neatness and celerity of the operation beat any card tricks.
At Darlow's all manner of machines deal with the suit-case problem. The leather is shaped while it is wet, and exact calculations go into the use of the heavy presses so that it retains its shape when dry. The stiffening materials come from Whakatane, soundly made New Zealand goods.
Making a Rugby football, Darlow's, Auckland.
The largest and longest-armed sewing machine I have encountered deals with the problem of the lengthy golf bag which Darlow's make in quantities. Some idea of the range of goods tackled by this factory can be seen in the showroom where baby harness, shields for butchers' knives, all sizes and shapes of suit-cases, camera cases, soldiers' wallets and money belts, kit-bags, and other articles of leather foundation, jostle each other.
Here, is a good instance of the utilisation of a New Zealand primary product, from the beast's hide in the paddock to the genial bowler's leather container for his wooden globes with the bias that causes all the trouble. W. B. Darlow is doing a national work. Here, too, I found confirmation of the fact that New Zealand tanneries are modern institutions turning out modern work from chrome to coloured leathers.
My last visit was to the Auckland Shoe Manufacturing Factory of Bridgen's & Co. Ltd., an old-established Northern institution. I liked the first wall motto I saw: “Keep Up the Quality.”
I have gone into some detail as to the modernity of equipment characterising our footwear establishments. It is in ample evidence in this Auckland factory. As described before, the pattern and “clicking” departments start off, and I had an interesting survey here of the pattern-filing cabinets. Track is kept of every order from its receipt to the time it leaves the finishing room. In this factory I had a closer look at the “stuck on” sole system. The
My guide said with a full sense of responsibility that: “Out of a million pairs not one sole will lift.”
It is often complained that New Zealand made goods are less popular with New Zealanders than the imported, though they may be better quality —and cheaper, too. Perhaps this prejudice does exist to some extent. If so, it certainly does not extend to toasted tobaccos grown and manufactured by the National Tobacco Co., Ltd. (pioneers of the tobacco industry in N.Z.), and as showing the widespread use of this tobacco there is the experience of a Public Hospital patient at Gisborne. Not until confined to the surgical ward did he realise the extent to which the use of the above Company's goods had grown. From 20 to 30 patients were in the ward at the time, and most of them rolled their own cigarettes. Only two brands were in evidence. Riverhead Gold was one, and it was smoked by all with one exception. When our patient was leaving he noticed that the one exception had a newly-purchased tin of Riverhead Gold by his bedside. Other popular brands are “Desert Gold,” “Cavendish” and “Navy Cut” (medium) and “Cut Plug No. 10” (fullstrength). All are toasted.”
As in the garment industry, I saw from plain visual proof, that machinesewing is better than any work by hand, and in the words of my teacher: “In ladies' shoes hand-sewing is a thing of the past.”
There are the usual batteries of modern machinery, but I found that the element of personal skill is still important. Many of the craftsmen at Bridgen's are old-timers, and there is an air of competence and planned organisation about the place. Every country has its own special problems in the footwear industry, for folks have all sizes, shapes, and conditions of feet. Bridgen's Ltd. in common with others of our boot and shoe manufacturers, are examining and solving the regional difficulties with true New Zealand initiative.
Intricate lasting-machine at Bridgen's, Auckland.
Naturally, there are many other fine organisations devoted to this branch of industrial activity in New Zealand. In fact there are more than fifty large-scale establishments, some of them specialising and others covering the field. However, limitation of space has kept me to the few examples quoted, but they alone furnish ample evidence that the New Zealand man and woman, boy and girl, from fisherman to dancing enthusiast, from hiker to party-goer, are catered for with New Zealand-made articles. Many a woman proudly exhibits a smart shoe which she fondly imagines is by some maker abroad, whereas it was well and truly turned out in a New Zealand factory.
In footwear, as much as in anything else I have seen, there is no justification for imagining that some foreign-made article is better than our own.
Sixty-Nine Years Ago.
A season ticket-holder on the Great Eastern Railway, finding his train not ready in consequence of the fireman not keeping up steam, ordered a special, for which he was charged £39/14/-, which he paid, and then brought an action to recover together with £10 for loss of time. The case was tried in the Court of Exchequer, and Mr. Baron Martin said it was nonsense for people when guilty of negligence to say, “Mind, I won't be responsible for it.” He was astonished that the company had not returned the money charged for the special train. The jury gave a verdict for the plaintiff for the amount claimed.–(From “The Graphic” of November 19, 1870, reprinted in “The Railway Gazette,” May 19, 1939).
A Literary Page or Two
( By “Shibli Bagarag.“)
Varsity journals are usually full to capacity with the isms and complexes of students anxious to prove to a misguided world that quaint and sometimes sinister philosophies are the only solutions for our troubles. Infinitely refreshing, therefore, is the latest issue of “Kiwi,” the magazine of Auckland University College, a publication that in recent years has been distinguished by prose, pictures and typography of high quality. In the latest issue one writer protests most effectively against the present chaos in aesthetic values; another disclaims against psychoanalysis (“science,” he says, “covers a multitude of sins”); there is a powerful indictment of “surrealism.” The last-mentioned is written convincingly by the editor of the magazine, Mr. J. C. Reid, B.A. There is much food for thought in this latest issue of “Kiwi.” I do not regard the verse and stories as being up to the merit of previous years. The Griffin Press has made its usual artistic job of the printing.
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The first two numbers of “Making New Zealand,” published by the Centennial Branch of the Department of Internal Affairs and already reviewed in this magazine, have met with an enthusiastic reception from the public. Further numbers since issued include No. 3, “Navigators and Explorers,” No. 4, “Whalers and Sealers,” and No. 5, “Missionaries and Settlers.” These pictorial surveys, of which thirty are to be published, represent the most ambitious enterprises of its kind ever attempted in New Zealand. The Minister for Education, the Hon. Peter Fraser, who is a good judge of the literary and artistic standards, has stated that he would like to see a set of the pictorial surveys in every New Zealand home and that he will at least see that there is one in every school. If ever the history of this country will be intelligently and effectively studied it will be through these splendid publications.
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I have received from the president of the Little Poetry Society (Mary R. Greig, Wanganui) a copy of the first booklet of the Society. The writers of the verse it contains are young people —one budding poet is aged eleven. I like this little book so much that it is taking a special place in my collection of such productions. Each and every poem is creditable work. I liked best of all one little thing called “Pansy Faces.” It is a neat little fancy by Valerie Spanner.
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Volume 12 of “The Postman,” the annual Magazine of the Correspondence School of the New Zealand Education Department, is a creditable issue of 192 pages. This publication does excellent work in developing literary and art talent in the young.
Mr. Eric Miller whose book, “Camps, Tramps and Trenches,” is reviewed in these pages.
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The first issue of “Oriflamme,” described as a “journal of youth and the fine arts,” has been published or rather typed, in Wellington. It contains several pages of verse and prose.
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“Aotearoa,” a collection of 100 poems, comes from the author, Annie Wright. As the title suggests much of the verse is in praise of New Zealand. The book is described as a Centennial Souvenir.
A beautiful tribute in verse to Sapper William Hackett, V.C., by Osborne Allan has been published by the Caxton Press, Christchurch. Sapper Hackett won the V.C. and lost his life through staying with an injured comrade following on the explosion of a German mine during the last war. The facts are immortalised in this poem. To tell such a story in verse and retain the true poetic atmosphere is a difficult task successfully achieved by Osborne Allan.
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It is the real enthusiast who achieves things. Take the case of Mr. J. McDermott, formerly chief engineer of the Post and Telegraph Department. Some years ago he became a Thomas Bracken enthusiast with a particular eye for the fact that Bracken's “God Defend New Zealand” is a stirring national song, a heartfelt prayer and a a poem. McDermott became imbued with the thought that Bracken's poem should be immortalised for all time as the National song of New Zealand. He set out to achieve this. Soon he found tremendous obstacles in his path–mainly apathy on the part of those he aimed to interest. So he sought to build a foundation for the interest he wished to create. He bought records of the song as played by the N.S.W. Police Band. These he distributed to various broadcasting stations. He bought dozens of copies of the song and by careful placing, Bracken's anthem was soon being sung with enthusiasm by community song-leaders. McDermott saw it was sent over the air by the Carillon, and that it was sung by choirs and by soloists. Meanwhile he bought many copies of Bracken's “Musings in Maoriland.” Although the book is a rare collector's item in this country Mr. McDermott managed to purchase over thirty copies. These he presented to people in high places whom he aimed
Reviews.
“Camps, Tramps and Trenches,” by Eric Miller (A. H. & A. W. Reed, Dunedin and Wellington) is the diary of a New Zealand Sapper during one year of the Big War, 1917. The title of the book sounds uninteresting and yet the book itself is one of the most interesting war volumes I have read. It is an unimpassioned, sincere record of a soldier who appears to be singularly unaffected by the great tragedy in which he is a very active participant. His unassailable humour enables him to describe war events as though recording the happenings of a very interesting tour. Because of this we obtain a direct view of a war warrior's daily routine without being harried with accounts of the horror of it all. Incidentally, the author illustrates his own book, a talent he used in several very helpful ways in the course of his soldiering. The author's photograph appears with this article.
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“The Spur of the Moment,” by Walter Murdoch (Angus & Robertson, Sydney) is another collection of essays from Australia's cultured writer of prose. The book is a literary tonic against the multitude of wordy microbes to be found these days between covers. Although I must sound like a radio announcer on one of our Commercial stations I will nevertheless recommend with sincerity the taking of one or two of these Murdoch literary pick-me-ups, morning, noon and night. They are delightful brain bracers. Professor Murdoch has a clean, keen, honest mind. We have only one writer in this country who can approach him—J. H. E. Schroder. In his latest collection Murdoch has written over thirty essays on a variety of subjects from tin-openers to tyrants—on literature, democracy peace and war. I would like to comment on each essay but will (because of space considerations) remark briefly on one—an essay on “The Great Victorian.” The subject is Anstey, the author of “Vice Versa.” Murdoch describes him as “the last of the great Victorians.” I suppose this is just why I like Professor Murdoch, because he is in his writing an example of the culture and refinement of the older days. “Our time may have been all they say in dispraise of it,” he observes, “but it was a jollier time than the present.” Murdoch gives us such pleasant draughts of this jollity in his essays.
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“The First White Boy Born in Otago,” by H. Beattie (A. H. & A. W. Reed) comprises a series of reminiscences related to the author by Thomas Baker Kennard, one of the oldest of the pioneers who died recently at the age of ninety-five. Mr. Kennard was evidently a man of character, with a splendid memory, keen observation and very outspoken. The book is like a series of newspaper articles linked together under many headings. The stories told are full of human interest and incidentally provide quite a who's who of the earlier Otago residents. The colonial life of the period is related in colourful style with many of Maori incidents, stories of whalers and gold diggers and other anecdotes of the early days. This is just another important addition to the Centennial historical library and makes excellent popular reading. There are several illustrations.
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“My Silent World,” by Dorothy Donaldson (A. H. & A. W. Reed) is a collection of simple songs from the heart of one who, though blind and later deaf, triumphed over her misfortunes during her brief life. The splendid courage of Dorothy Donaldson and her great love of the birds she could not hear and the flowers she could not see are reflected in her verse. Her spirit sought for and seemed to find happiness in the silent world she lived in. The booklet is artistically produced.
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“Beyond the Kubea,” by J. G. Hides (Angus & Robertson, Sydney) is the story of the author's last expedition in New Guinea. It is a tragic story with an almost prophetic note of the author's own death which occurred later, largely as a result of the expedition on which the story is based. In the author's own words the book is the story of a search for payable gold in Central New Guinea “where untamed men still fight and make peace—where men still dance by the light of the stars and sing the songs of the Stone Age. It is the story, too, of good companions, white and brown and of a tragic journey's end.” Hides' sole white companion on this perilpathed journey was David Lyall, who became dangerously ill just when it appeared that success was to be achieved. In a vain effort to save his mate Hides makes a terrible return journey. The author gives a fine picture of the untamed interior of New Guinea and expresses his love and gratitude for the grand devotion of his native servants. This is one of Australia's best stories of exploration.
New Zealand Centennial Exhibition
(Continued from page 24.)
shell at Napier to the Post Office at Invercargill. As one who knows New Zealand well, I pass this work as perfection; it is a miracle of fidelity.
In the Auckland model, you can walk up Queen Street in imagination and turn up Wellesley Street into Albert Park; in Wellington you watch the Essex leaving the Floating Dock and follow the mazy streets of Thorndon; in Dunedin, the symmetry of the Octagon can be seen, and the exquisite slender spire of First Church is here in its precise Gothic beauty.
There are numerous working models: dairy factories in the North; a fruit cannery at Hastings; a cheese factory in Taranaki; the Ford factory and others in Wellington, and so on until every pastoral, agricultural, mining, and industrial activity of the country is covered by a self-explanatory working model.
On the scenic side the story is still more brilliant; here the visitor can see Milford Sound with Mitre Peak in the background; Lake Wakatipu with the mighty Remarkables rising from its blue waters, and Queenstown, perfectly modelled, nestling in its small bay with the tiny bush-covered peninsula. Bowen Falls roar down, and at the northern end Keri Keri Falls also foam over in realistic fashion.
Beneath the Dominion Court are the Waitomo Caves. This is the most unusual spectacle provided in any Exposition in history. The space and height under the lofty representations of Mount Cook and other peaks, have been utilised to give the proper altitude to the caves. The Cathedral Cave, for instance, is a perfect replica, with its awesome feeling of height, depth and grandeur; the stalactite and stalagmite formations, beautified by dainty lighting effects, are exquisitely natural. The floor is of clay as “at home,” and suddenly we arrive in the glow-worm cave, where the sound of running water and the twinkling tiny blue stars above, make the sight uncanny for those who have seen the real thing. A duckboard with handrails goes the full winding length. The finest fernery I have ever seen finishes this wonder-trip. There is a maze of flagged paths through a tracery of green fairylike plants, lacy and drooping, comprising the whole range of this region of botanical loveliness. This is an exhibition itself. I should mention the comfortable reception rooms for each Province, beautifully appointed and vying with each other in their display of local beauty spots and places of interest. These impress on everyone the multiplicity of the wonders of our diverse, satisfying, mutli-coloured, progressive, happy and highly developed land.
In the great Tower Block, the Main Hall has great pillars which sweep to the lofty roof, and the spaciousness and dignity of the architecture deserve the title of Temple. The Women's Court is exactly what can be expected from the country that had the first woman M.A. and was first to grant Female Suffrage. It is a triumphant expression of the part played by our womenfolk in the building of New Zealand. There is a pioneer hut with its meagre showing of household things, treasured so much, and there is a Canterbury home of the 1850–60 period showing a rapid accession of comfort. The Loans section has assembled a remarkable collection of veritable objects, and every aspect of women's life, every feminine activity, from practical housekeeping to the advancement of culture is portrayed here. It is a show within a show and will repay a long stay.
Before arriving at the Dominion Court, we would pass through the enormous area devoted to the Centennial Olympia. Here all the great motor firms of the world have spacious courts displaying the last word in motor vehicles. A visitor from Mars could go back to his planet and build one after seeing this show with its wonderful detail. There remain the two colossal halls containing the Manufacturing Industries and the General Exhibits. Streets upon streets of exhibits, stalls, in dozens and scores, with a Cabaret, huge Restaurant, and other attractions make these two a middle-sized city, needing a full volume to adequately describe.
Let us take a quick glance at the Australian and United Kingdom island pavilions. In the Australian edifice, a wall of glass encloses a geometric stairway which leads to a top floor from which a fine view of the main buildings can be got. There is something about the bigness and airiness of this building which befits the world's Fifth Continent. The Bondi Beach panorama with its lifelike bathing girls and sunlit rolling surf surprises everyone and holds the crowds.
Here we have an atmosphere of vigorous mature nationhood, with industries rivalling those of Europe and America in scale and complexity, and a distinctive national culture in full spate of expression. Somehow we get the feeling of the Australian sun, wide spaces, and titanic modern cities. “North of Capricorn” astonishes us with the news that two-fifths of Australia lie in the Tropics. Australian art, music, and literature have noble displays containing many world-famous names. Our Big Brother and closest neighbour has created in this Pavilion an exhibit which should satisfy the most patriotic “Aussie” exile.
The United Kingdom Pavilion has all the qualities we associate with our Motherland. Dignity and simplicity are here, nobility of treatment, breadth of vision and lofty conception. The central theme is imperial in its outlook, and deals with world communications, trade routes, and transport generally.
I like the classic strength of the tremendous statue, allegorical of the alighting of Power on earth, and the treatment of the grand foyer. There is a huge relief map of the world and its waterways, showing the shipping routes and airways of the world, with model vessels moving eternally along the seaways. There are three amazing model displays, motor, rail, and marine. Stephenson's Rocket starts at one end of the rail transport display, and through a strange and fascinating series of locomotives we are brought to the “Dominion of New Zealand” a streamlined beauty built in 1937. The ships are possibly more fascinating; they start from the British coracle, and after an Elizabethan merchant ship, an East Indiaman, and many others, we see the model of the S.S. “Dunedin,” the first ship to carry New Zealand frozen meat. Finally, of course, we come to the “Queen Mary.” There is a striking device which displays the ships of over 20,000 tons recently built in English yards.
The aeroplane models are also engrossing, and we learn something of the efficiency of British work which is in evidence just now in this arena. The composite Short-Mayo aircraft is also shown. The motor car range of models starts with the first horseless carriage on English roads in 1827, and culminates with Captain Eyston's land-speed record-holder “Thunderbolt.” New Zealanders will feel a glow of pride in their unblemished British ancestry as they leave the United Kingdom Pavilion. Playland can be left to its own affairs; it is the brightest, biggest, and fullest park of amusement ever assembled in these lands.
The landscape-gardening beauties of the grounds, the glory of the Avenue of Flags, the superb beauty of statuary and mural paintings, the completeness of the appointments for the comfort and instruction of the public, and a thousandand-one other things which adorn this New Zealand Exhibition, must be left to another time.
No New Zealander who loves his land should miss this Exhibition; in its 65 acres there is compressed everything of utility or beauty possessed in our country. Here we find in perfect form the realisation of those high dreams of our forbears.
Troops Entrain For Waiouru
(Rly. Publicity photos.)
Off for Field Training.—Members of New Zealand's Special Military Force entraining at Treatham on December 3rd, when they left for Walouru, on the central plateau of the North Island, for an intensive course of field training. The complement consisting of 29 officers and 660 other ranks of the 19th Wellington Battalion was transported by special train.
W. F. Ingram
About three years ago, when public interest in New Zealand's Centennial celebrations had not arrived at even a luke-warm state, I suggested that the celebrations would present an excellent opportunity to commemorate the deeds of New Zealand's famous athletes. My suggestion was that a Hall of Champions should be erected at the Exhibition, wherein photographs of famous champions, international trophies and other laurels of victory could be di played as an incentive to the younger generation to follow in the footsteps of the champions of yesteryear
This suggestion was repeated later, and a meeting was called in Wellington to discuss the possibilities. That is as far as it went! Nothing further was done, and the Centennial Exhibition opened without any steps being taken to pay tribute to New Zealand's famous athletes.
No one will deny that the Centennial Exhibition is a wonderful achievement and a fitting tribute to the progress made since our forefathers hewed their homes in the primeval forests, but no one could claim that the Exhibition is complete without some recognition being given our great sportsmen.
Even at this stage it is not too late to remedy the omission. Suggestions have been made to include a Hall of Champions in the Centennial Exhibition and I would appeal to all interested to communicate with me so that I may pass on the information to the proper quarters. If you have old photographs of former great champions at boxing, wrestling, swimming, cricket, football, athletics or any form of sport, communicate with me—do not forward the photographs until requested—and I will present the information where it could best be used.
For my share I have been engaged to give three radio talks on “Great New Zealand Champions,” and my only regret is that some move has not been made to produce some permanent record of the deeds of our worthy sportsmen.
The younger generation is always apt to be criticised for its nonchalant attitude to things material and spiritual, but in sport the hero worship that characterised our ancestors is just as alive today as when Grand-dad thought Dr. Grace was the end and the beginning of cricket. But as Time Marches On and one generation succeeds another it is essential that a permanent record be given of the old-time champions.
In “Panorama of the Playground,” I have chronicled the deeds of Joe Scott, New Zealand's amazing walking champion; Randolph Rose, our best miler until Jack Lovelock hit the sporting headlines; Malcolm Champion, our first Olympic champion; Jack Lovelock, and many other sterling New Zealanders, and there have been many letters of appreciation about these articles. One letter arrived only a few days ago; it is typical of many received. Here it is:
“Just a line to ask you if it is possible to get the ‘Railways Magazine’ with the write-up about Joe Scott, the Dunedin walker. I have loaned my copy to different people to read, but the last one sent it to a friend in England; so that's the end of that! I would like a copy if at all possible to secure one. The year, if I remember aright, was 1936, about the end of the year. Let me know the cost if able to land one.”
Joe Scott is one of the great sporting personalities I have discussed in my radio talks, but there are others such as Kenny Bain, who used to race the mail coaches; A. A. Cameron, the great South Island champion at Caledonian Games; the Woon brothers—a great sporting family—of whom little information is available.
They were heroes in the early days of New Zealand but we cannot blame the youth of to-day if their deeds are forgotten. Before it is too late, some effort should be made to chronicle their deeds and give the champions of 1940 a background of sporting history that will make them proud to be New Zealanders.
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In “Railways Magazine,” I recently made reference to the prowess of a New Zealand cash athlete, Albert Gilmore, who ran one mile (from a start of 40 yards) in 4min. 8 4–5sec. at the Stawell (Victoria) meeting last Easter. Before the article appeared in print I received this letter from L. J. Read, of Divisional Headquarters, Army Service Corps, Trentham. He wrote:
“Being in camp at present and therefore having limited opportunities, I am writing you in the hope that you may be able to make the necessary arrangements for an attack on the professional mile record by Albert Gilmore, a professional runner now in this camp. You will remember he did so well in athletic events in Victoria last Easter. On Easter Monday he won the Stawell mile in the record time of 4min. 8 4–5 sec., this being his fifth win in succession. Backed by the opinions of several good judges in Australia and having seen him in action in camp it is my firm belief he would lower the existing record. He may be going overseas shortly, and it seems a pity that this great athlete should not be given a chance at breaking the record and bringing honour to New Zealand.”
It is unfortu mate that Gilmore is not likely to be given an opportunity in New Zealand. As a cash athlete he cannot compete with or against amateur athletes except in events controlled by the military authorities, and there are few cash athletes in New Zealand capable of assisting him if a field could be secured. On February 16 and 17 the New Zealand cash championships will be contested by cyclists and athletes in Wellington—the first all-cash meeting in the Capital City for a generation—and it is possible that Gilmore, if not overseas with the first Echelon at that time, will be a competitor. He has the ability but needs the opportunity.
The strength of any sport is not based on the enthusiasm of its executive officers alone, but must have a solid foundation among the rank and file of its participants. For that reason it is the bounden duty of all athletes, be they wrestlers, runners, cyclists, oarsmen or boxers, to set a standard of behaviour, whether competing or not, that will bring credit to their chosen sport. It needs just one bad apple in a case to spread the rot to all the other apples, and this should always be kept in mind when athletes foregather. A word spoken to an erring one might save a popular sport from being dragged into the mire. In recent months boxing has suffered because no fewer than four professional boxers have been convicted of assault. As boxing is a sport encouraged in secondary schools it is essential that steps be taken to prevent a recurrence of the evil. It is not entirely the duty of the executive officers to prevent this undesirable feature; every boxer must take his share of responsibility.
Excellent results attended the Learn to Swim Campaign conducted in New Zealand early in the past year. Figures released indicate that 28,478 persons of all ages were taught to swim during the campaign at a total cost of £2,000, an average cost of 1/5 per person. Once again Auckland showed the way, no fewer than 6,901 non-swimmers mastering the simple secret of swimming. Contrasted to Wellington, where only 1,200 persons were taught, this is a remarkable record, with Christchurch, 6,162, a good second. The best figures were returned in districts fortunate enough to possess tepid baths, and now the scheme has been shown worthwhile the National Committee of Swimming and Life-saving might be pardoned if it worked hard to secure tepid baths in all towns throughout New Zealand. The capital cost in expenditure is more than repaid by the annual saving in lives.
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(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A popular South Island tourist resort—The Hermitage, Mt. Cook,
Mr. R. W. McVilly, former General Manager of the New Zealand Railways, was honoured a few weeks ago by being elected first honorary life member of the New Zealand Amateur Athletic Association and President of that body during Centennial Year. As a council member of the New Zealand Amateur Athletic Association for five years I had the honour to serve under this grand old sportsman—if that expression may be used to describe a sportsman who will not grow old—and it gives me great pleasure to see that an honour richly earned has fallen to his lot. Members of the New Zealand Railway service know of Mr. McVilly as a former “chief,” and his work for sport is known in New Zealand and beyond. A stickler for the rules, at times considered too strict, he has played his part in the control of athletics and boxing in New Zealand but has never sought the limelight, and many a fine action by this sportsman has not been publicised.
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A few years ago New Zealand field event enthusiasts were thrilled by the feats of the two young Finnish athletes, Veikko Perasalo and Matti Sippala, high jumper and javelin thrower respectively,
(Photo., A. H. Newlon)
Mt. Christina, from Konteburn Track, Lower Hollyford Valley, South Island.
Leading New Zealand Newspapers
Leading New Zealand Newspapers—
Continued
Hotels
Reliable Travellers Guide
ByEnid B. V. Saunders
The tribesmen of Te Whiti were accounted prosperous, judged by the fertility of their lands and the strength of their warriors. Their dwelling-houses were adorned with carvings, and they possessed many fine cloaks and weapons. Among the tutua, the low-born persons of the tribe, was a youth named Wiri. One day while he was engaged in clearing a piece of ground ready for cultivation, Ehu, the daughter of Te Whiti, went past with some of her companions. She paid no attention to Wiri—to her he was just a man digging and what reason was there for her to notice him particularly?—but the lad was quite overcome by her beauty and stood dreaming long after her graceful figure had passed from sight. Hitherto he had been contented enough for he had been well-treated and his food was plentiful; but now he was gripped by a disturbing restlessness that work could not cure or slumber quieten. Night after night, Wiri lay awake wondering what daring act he could perform so that the maiden would be aware of him. How else could he expect one of such exalted rank to regard an inferior fellow like himself in a favourable light? So he pondered and planned until at length a scheme was devised.
Te Whiti had long been at enmity with the tribe of Ngapuri which was led by the chieftain Raurangi. These people were well-known for their cruel exploits, and instances of their treachery were many. When Raurangi died, however, their raids grew less frequent, for they lacked the fierce guidance of their former leader. Indeed, comparative peace ruled between the two tribes, but Te Whiti was not disposed towards true friendliness, for had not his young son been struck down in battle by one of Raurangi's men? Wiri's plan was this: he would make a secret journey inland to the fortified village of the Ngapuri and under cover of darkness ascend the lower hill-slope and thence gain the crest where the bones of Raurangi had their resting-place. If he removed the skull and presented it to Te Whiti that chief would surely be revenged for the loss of his son. The young man was fully aware of the dangers attending such a hazardous undertaking. Apart from the unfortunate death awaiting him should he be captured by the enemy there was the fear of evil overtaking anyone who disturbed the burial-ground of a chief. So strong was this belief among the people that nobody would go near the place even in daylight. Besides, it was said that this particular hill was the abode of parangeki, of spirits, for had not old Wairau, the seer, been known to perform incantations there? On these counts, together with the fact that weird, rumbling noises sometimes issued from the vicinity, it was called by the local natives the Hill of Enchantment.
Taking all things into consideration Wiri's courage was of the highest order. He chose his time of departure wisely, slipping away before dawn one morning so as to be well on his way by sunrise. Two days travelling and he was nearing Ngapuri territory. He reconnoitred as closely as he dared in order to become familiar with the land in the dark, and, at nightfall, stealthily and with the utmost care he crept past the outskirts of the pa and reached the other side of the hill. Concealing himself behind some boulders he lay down to wait the first streaks of light in the east. No wind stirred as he started to climb the hill; no birds sang in the grey bush-slopes, and a deep stillness seemed to lie heavily over the place. Presently the trees grew thinner and there were patches of sharp rocks and great, black holes of water. The uncanny silence began to have its effect on him, and as the daylight grew stronger a new terror possessed him, for now it seemed as though countless eyes watched his every step, countless unseen forms lurked near to strike him. Fear urged him to turn back, yet love of a maiden drove him on: better to perish on this forsaken hill side than to return to an existence bereft of all hope of winning the affection of his loved one.
At last the breasted the bleakfurrowed summit where a hollow tree trunk protected the remains of the ruthless old fighter, Raurangi. Fearfully and expecting some terrible calamity to befall him any minute, Wiri approached the elaborately carved casket with its gleaming ornamentations of blue and green pauashell. He was about half-way down the hill with his gruesome burden when the quietness was broken by a queer rumbling sound. The murky water in a pool nearby started to bubble and hiss; the earth shook violently and huge clefts appeared in the rocks. Suddenly fire and smoke began to pour forth from the hill-top. A falling boulder caught Wiri a sharp blow on the head and for a long period he knew nothing of the happenings around him.
When at length he regained his senses sufficiently to complete the descent he found a desolate sight. Most of the forest on the lower slopes had disappeared and the entire village on the opposite side of the hill had been wiped out by a tremendous landslide. Not one person had escaped so swift had been the onslaught of the earthquake. Thus was the prophecy concerning the desecrating of the sacred burial-ground fulfilled, though not in the way the followers of Raurangi had foretold, and thus by the daring of Wiri the slave, was the tribe of Te Whiti avenged for the numerous insults and losses they had suffered through these marauders.
“It was surely the will of the firegoddess, Mahiuka, that they should be destroyed because of their misdeeds,” the people said.
As for Wiri, his bravery was recounted in song and story, so that he became a hero not only to his tribesmen, but in the eyes of the beautiful Ehu, whom he loved. And the Hill of Enchantment to this day is avoided by native and pakeha alike. Forbidding and solitary it stands above the surrounding country, with the ugly cratergash on its north side as a reminder of the fate that overtook a treacherous people many years ago.
ByHelen
Children After Christmas
After the excitement of Christmas Day comes a period of reaction. Mother is tired after the rush of shopping and special Christmas cooking. Children also droop a little in spirits. They have expended a great deal of nervous energy, and have probably, like the grown-ups, eaten rather more than necessary. Now the new toys begin to pall, and a weary mother is assailed with the question, “What'll we do now?”
If possible, the answer is, “Get ready for an outing,” whether it be a full-day picnic, a half-day at beach or baths, or a walk across the road to ask little friends to play in the park.
Every child appreciates an outing, simple though it may be, and even a well-known destination becomes exciting when playmates are invited to “come too.” The wise mother is only too glad to include Johnny-next-door or Sallyover-the-way in her party.
But there is no guarantee that the weather will be suitable for out-ofdoors. In case of rain, mother is the one who is expected to suggest some interesting indoor occupation. Mother realizes that children like to be doing, and that possibly the toys that wellmeaning relatives have given are not of a type to keep the young ones busy for long.
Perhaps mother suggests that the children prepare for next day's picnic. “You will want your bathing suits. Merle's cap is in the chest in the hall. You go swimming so often I've decided you'll have to look after your own things, including the towels. You may each have two of your very own from the pile of swimming towels in the linen press. Yes, choose the ones you like. Draw lots if you wish. Daddy and I'll have the remainder. Yes, I know some of them are the same. You'll have to label your own. Yes, either with embroidery thread or marking ink on tape. No, why should Merle do it for you boys? Each mark your own. And you'll have to find room in your drawers for them. I suggest keeping special picnic gear all together. You may have to rearrange your drawers.
By this time the children have got the idea, and turn to a rearranging of all their belongings, hardly realizing that the irksome task of tidying drawers has become a worthwhile job.
Sister later is found studying recipe books in the kitchen with the idea of making something tasty for the picnic, and young Jack gets busy sorting out billies, milk bottles and other picnic utensils.
Meanwhile mother is noticing the discarded toys here and there about th house. Re-arranging can well be extended to the toy cupboard. There probably isn't an adequate cupboard, but an interested father or big brother can do marvels with wooden boxes or a few shelf boards. The small child who is to use the shelf space should help to plan and to build. Even the holding of nails gives a “proud builder” air to the young child.
Envelope Pillow-Slip
Big brother, too, could probably do with more storage space for his belongings, and will attend to this need after he has fixed things up for the small ones.
If sister wants to help with the carpentering, let her. Show her how to use the tools and she'll enjoy the job as much as brother does.
The final painting or varnishing is an absorbing occupation. (Mother might like to enlist workers for other jobs about the house). Then comes the de
Who cares whether it rains to-morrow or not? The children have indoor plans for days ahead.
A friend who has replaced her double bed by single beds was exercised as to what to do with her double sheets, which, though large (78ins. by 93 ins.) are not quite large enough to cut in two for single sheets.
So far she has made pillow slips from a couple of them. Each sheet makes five envelope slips, with sufficient of a turn in to guarantee the pillow won't show. The diagram shows the pattern she used. Note that two slips can be cut from the width of the material.
She may make one single sheet and one pillow slip from each of the remainder or use them as they are for top sheets.
Electrical Economy.
Electricity in Great Britain is now rationed, consumers being allowed only 75 per cent. of last year's quantity. Excellent economy hints for British housewives, given in an article in “The Electrical Age,” should also prove of interest to New Zealand women who, though not rationed by the Government, are forced by the rising cost of living to economise where they can. Main points from the article “Rationing Electricity,” are as follow:—
Lighting.
For the cost of one unit a 25 watt lamp will give light for 40 hours; a 40 watt do. for 25 hours; a 60 watt do. for 16 hours; a 100 watt do. for 10 hours.
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Wherever possible concentrate the principal activities in the house in as few rooms as practicable.
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In all rooms make full use of floor and table standards, eliminating eye strain by placing light where it is needed.
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Use good quality pearl lamps. These give better results and longer life. Where possible use cream or amber coloured shades.
Heating—of Rooms.
A fire marked 1000 W., I K.W. uses 1 unit per hour; do. 2000 W., 2 K.W, uses 2 units per hour; do. 3000 W., 3 K.W. uses 3 units per hour.
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In rooms where it is essential to have a large electric fire, switch on full heat until the room is warmed, then switch down.
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Use only one bar when and wherever possible.
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For short periods and localized heating in rooms other than kitchens and bathrooms, bowl fires are to be recommended on account of their portability and low consumption of electricity.
Heating—of Water.
About 3 or 4 units will be needed to heat enough water for one bath. A 2-or 3-pint kettle can be used for half to one and a-half hours for one unit, depending on loading of kettle.
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It is important to see that the lagging of the tank is adequate, minimising the loss of heat.
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It will not be necessary to economise in the number of baths if the amount of water used is considerably reduced.
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On no account should either washing-up or hand-washing be done under a running tap. Organise your washing-up to avoid incessant drawing off of hot water.
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Where thermostats are installed, the local Electricity authority can be consulted with regard to economical temperature regulation.
Kettles.
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Heat only the amount of water required. This is to be recommended in any circumstances.
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Always heat water in the electric kettle except when cooking is being done and space is available for a kettle or saucepan on a boiling plate already in use.
Washing, Vacuum Cleaning, etc.
Electrical appliances which are driven by a motor, such as washers and vacuum cleaners, can be used for four to eight hours for one unit. If care is taken with the use of heavy current-consuming apparatus, it is possible to have full use and service of the labour-saving apparatus in the home, as the consumption of such apparatus is low.
Ironing.
An electric iron can be used for two to three hours for one unit. Temperature-controlled types should be used wherever possible.
Refrigeration.
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The refrigerator door should not be opened more than is necessary.
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Hot foods should not be put into the refrigerator.
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The regulator should not be set to “Freezing” longer than is necessary.
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The refrigerator should be used for perishable foods only and not as a store cupboard.
(To be concluded next month.)
Health Notes.
Ptomaine Poisoning.
Here are a few simple rules to remember in case one is called upon to help a person suffering from Ptomaine Poisoning.
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Immediately give an emetic.
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Warmth is the next consideration.
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Later, give a good dose of castor oil.
When the patient has recovered from the emetic, stimulants such as hot tea or brandy and water may be given.
The best emetics, are two flat tablespoonfuls of salt in a tumbler of tepid water or a flat tablespoonful of mustard in a tumbler of tepid water.
If neither is at hand, tickle the back of the throat with a feather or very lightly with a forefinger.
Food poisoning is often accomplished by chill on the abdomen, and it is therefore advisable to combat this by keeping the patient warm with hotwater bottles, hot blankets, etc.
Administration of a purgative such as castor oil relieves the patient, and should be given without any unnecessary delay.
There is no need to describe the symptoms of Ptomaine Poisoning because they speak for themselves—the
Whenever possible rest with the feet raised above the level of the knees. A pillow at the foot of the bed between the sheets, with a hot-water bottle beneath, is comforting to tired feet.
Placing the feet and ankles in hot and cold water alternately is also a sure method of relieving tiredness. Begin with the hot water for about half-a-minute, then plunge the feet into cold water for the same period; repeat for about 15 minutes, then massage with your favourite ointment.
Everyone is more or less aware of the harm done by excessive drinking, but over-eating is just as dangerous. This is one of the temptations peculiar to middle-age, when the more strenuous delights of youth have necessarily to be curtailed. It is usually a more placid period of existence, and one feels that the time has arrived when over-weight need not be considered as a “falling from grace.”
Every pound of superfluous fat laid down, however, is a strain upon the bodily tissues. The heart, arteries and kidneys are affected, and over-replenishment is directly or indirectly responsible for “high-blood pressure.”
Kitchen Lore.
Tomatoes.
The tomato is now revealed as a firstclass food for health. It is very nourishing as it contains valuable organic acids useful to the system The skins and seeds are indigestible and should be discarded.
Standing the tomatoes in hot water for a few minutes enables them to be skinned easily in readiness for use in salads, etc.
Anchovies.—Turn out the anchovies and sprinkle lightly with finely-chopped parsley.
Sardines.—Turn the sardines out of the tin and serve them ungarnished.
Cauliflower.—Boil a small cauliflower until it is tender but not broken, then take it up and leave it to get cold. Divide the white flowers into small branches. Mix these lightly with some dressing to which a little chopped pimento has been added before serving.
To make the dressing, mix together two teaspoonfuls of salad oil with one tablespoonful of vinegar, and half a level teaspoonful of made mustard. Season the ingredients with salt and pepper, add a tiny grating of onion and one to one and a-half level dessertspoonfuls of chopped pimento.
Egg Mayonnaise.—Hard boil as many eggs as may be required and cut into eighths. Mix them with mayonnaise to taste, and granish with strips of chopped chives.
Beetroot.—Peel and cut the beetroot into small dice. Toss in dressing and serve it sprinkled with finelychopped parsley.
Tomatoes.—Peel the tomatoes and slice them thinlyj dress them with French dressing, and sprinkle them with finely-chopped parsley.
For the French dressing, use twice as much oil as vinegar, a little made mustard, a tiny grating of onion, and salt and pepper to taste.
1/4 pint salad oil; I egg yolk; I or more dessertspoonfuls vinegar, as required; salt, pepper and mustard.
Break the egg yolk in a basin and add a little salt, pepper and mustard. Stir in the oil very gradually, adding it drop by drop. When the sauce begins to get thick, add just a little of the vinegar. Continue in this way until all the ingredients are added. The sauce should be of a thick, creamy consistency when finished.
4 ozs. grated cheese; 1/2 pint milk; butter, flour and chopped onion, 1 oz. each; salt and pepper to taste; buttered toast.
Sauté the onion in the butter, stir in the flour, remove and stir in the hot milk. Return to the fire and cook, stirring all the time for 5 to 10 minutes. Remove from the fire and stir in the cheese and seasoning. Serve on hot buttered toast.
Cooked diced carrot, turnip, parsnip -1 each; 1 cup peas or beans; 1 stick celery—finely chopped; 1/2 teacup boiled rice; 1/2 pint curry, sauce.
Place the cooked vegetables in the curry sauce. Heat through slowly. Serve with a border of rice.
1 oz. butter; I oz. flour; seasoning; 1/2 pint milk or stock; 1 apple; 1 onion; 1 dessertspoonful curry powder.
Melt the butter, sauté the chopped apple and onion, stir in the flour and curry powder. Add the hot milk or stock, stir and simmer gently for 10 minutes. Add seasoning.
Ken Alexander
Leo, by his jungle feasts, Is always dubbed “The King of Beasts.”
Homo, in his teeming hosts, Is claimed to be “The King Of Boasts.”
Homo is always expanding his chest; Leo is content to expand his “tummy.” Leo doesn't become all “chesty” because he has draped himself round more antelope than his brethren. He is merely filled with digestive gratification that so few of his antelope elope.
On the other hand Homo gets all puffed up over his “kills” and loves to hear the fawns and does exclaim: “Isn't he just too killing!” So he climbs the ladder of excess, from “kill” to “kill” until he figures in the final “kill” as the whole works.
Although Homo thinks so much of himself it is doubtful if the animals think much of him. The indifference that permeates the peanuttian precincts and the bone-gardens of the zoo represents the true sentiments of the animal world. Any faint interest in man shown by the larger carnivora is prompted by appetite rather than admiration. The lions and tigers sometimes bat a somnolent eye at pinkchopped salesmen and the young of butter merchants but, otherwise, they are not interested.
And yet we must hand it to Homo that what progress he has made has been achieved with a physical equipment pitifully inadequate for his ambitions.
The chief trouble with Homo is that he is obliged to get along with only two arms and two legs; and his teeth have grown quite useless for gnawing his way through a crowd, biting the tops off bottles, or supporting himself on the picture rail when the ladder slips. In any case, his teeth have usually become detachable long before he has lost the will to use them in self-defence, or for the purpose of putting the wind up his creditors by baring them through the parlour window. The modern creditor would, excusably, presume that their owner either was demonstrating his joy at having paid the last instalment on them, or was desirous of disposing of them as a going concern.
It is all rather pathetic. There is the tiger with a set of tearers which would make the owner of a steam laundry feel like a massage expert, and yet apart from natural satisfaction in a job well-chewed—the tiger confines any swelling to parts below the head. But Man, knowing his dental deficiencies, continues to hurl himself upon beef steaks and suchlike tooth-proof products of the family butcher.
And that is where Man puts it across the whole animal kingdom; it is his indomitable spirit that has put him where he is—wherever that may be. It is this spirit which laughs at lock-jaw, vanquishes revulcanised chops, and tears the armour-plating off threepenny pies. His spirit enables him to overcome the advantages of progress and survive the blessings of civilisation.
“Needs at least two pairs of each.”
It is his courageous folly that causes him to compete in spheres foreign to his original specifications. Take water! (No. not internally. No one takes water seriously in that respect; there are far too many competitive liquids). Man was never made for water, except as a mild refresher to pour over the pores. Had he been destined to inhabit innocuous liquids he would have been fitted with mackintosh bone-covers and a propeller abaft the steering gear. It is obvious from Man's bodywork and landing gear that he should keep away from water as much as possible. There are many who find this no hardship, but many others seem bent on proving that you can't keep a good man down any more than you can keep a good fish up. This amphibious ambition is the more remarkable when you consider that it is impossible for Man to inhale water without first making an appointment with an undertaker. Furthermore he possesses only hands and feet with which he moves clumsily by digging
Even the seal with its two-element travel gear has enough sense to recognise that its evolution tends to oysterbeds rather than kapoc mattresses, and it remains in pickle as much as possible except for an occasional excursion among men to see what sort of mess they are making on dry land. But man either is too small-brained or too big-hearted to realise that he was never intended to make a splash in anything bigger than a bath. In the circumstances it is amazing to think that insurance companies are so broadminded that they allow policy holders to swim underwater, without an inspector in a boat to call them up before the bubbles cease to rise.
And, apart from water, what about tennis? Strangely enough, it has never even occurred to Man that tennis is a game which was invented by him in a mood of defiance against the law of probability. To attempt it with nothing more than a paltry pair of arms and legs is nothing less than an idle boast. It is, indeed, painful to watch a tennis player attempting to hold one ball, serve the other, hitch up his trousers and shoo the poodles off the court, all with one pair of hands; also, he needs at least two pairs of legs so that he can spring in all directions simultaneously without strewing his movable parts amongst the spectators or putting a permanent twist in his reputation.
But in spite of this we have Wimbledon as a monument to Man's genius for chewing more than he can bite off. The King of Boasts he is, but there are occasions when even the animals must admit that he is not such a ham as he looks.
“Take wrestling—”
And what about wrestling? In nothing more than wrestling does man resemble the worm who flung himself down in front of the lawn mower and cried: “Another inch and I'll bump you off!”
It is obvious that Man was never constructed to act like a high-compression ivy vine, and to tie himself up with his fellows in such intricate designs that it often requires a surveyor and a couple of plumbers to restore him to normal shape. Now an octopus is specially designed to wrestle for his living. He has no more bones than a Christmas pudding, he sports more graspers than a legal document and his temperament is, if anything, even nastier than that of many human wrestlers whose diet appears to be a hash of bitter aloes and raw hyena steaks.
It is plain that wrestlers are not students of octopussimism or they would devote their superfluous enmity to getting a half-Nelson on Old Man Work instead of trying to do, with a gorilla equipment, what an octopus can do so much better. But that's Man, the King of Boasts! Always striving to get one more bite from the apple of ambition; a victim of Cores and Effect!
Wit And Humour
The little boy was sitting on the edge of the pavement, crying bitterly, when the kindly old gentleman came up.
“Why are you crying, my little man?” he asked gently.
“Father thrashed me for doing a crossword puzzle,” came the answer between violent sobs.
“Good gracious! Why?”
“Well, sir, one clue was a word of three letters meaning something that is drunk every afternoon—an'—an' I put ‘Dad.’”
* * *
A man was seen sitting on a lonely railway embankment in the west of Ireland. A passing tourist said to him, “Don't you find life very lonely?”
“Not at all, sir,” he replied.
“Well, what do you do with yourself?”
“Sure, I watch the trains go by.” “But how many trains go by each day?” “Just the wan, sir.”—From “Not so Humdrum,” by R. W. Harris (“Railway Gazette,” London).
* * *
Father: “Yes, that lion could kill me with his paw and eat me up.”
Little Elsie (wide-eyed): “Daddy, if the lion comes out of his cage and eats you up, which bus do I take home?”
* * *
Granny: “You girls are so useless nowadays. I don't believe you know even what needles are for.”
Flapper: “What a dear old granny you are! Why, they are to make the gramophone play, of course.”
* * *
Gentleman: Are you really so hard up?
Tramp: Hard up? Why, sir, if suits of clothes wuz sellin’ at a penny apiece I wouldn't have enough to buy the armhole of a vest.
“Ah, good mornin’, Mrs. Murphy, and how is everything’?”
Sure, an' I'm havin' a great time uv it between me husband and the fire. If I keep me eye on the wan, the other is sure to go out.”
* * *
He: “I thought you had thrown Cyril over.”
She: “Yes; but you know how a girl throws.”
A Railway Station Showying yr Travellers Refreshynge Themsleves.
–(Courtesy “Railway Gazette.”)
A satirical drawing by “Dicky Doyle” (Richard Doyle, the father of Conan Doyle) showing the primitive conditions under which travellers “refreshed” themselves during the heyday of the railway refreshment room.
Teacher (to class): “Now, children, I want you all to draw a ring.”
All the children did so except Tommy, who drew a square.
Teacher: “Tommy, I told you to draw a ring, and you have drawn a square. Why?”
Tommy: “Well, mine's a boxing ring”
First Actor: Business is very bad in the theatre, isn't it?
Second: Very bad! The only audience I ever see is when I shave!
One afternoon the silence was shattered by the sound of an uproar from the kitchen. Voices were raised in indignation; there were loud and violent arguments and much bumping and banging about.
The mistress of the house hurried down to investigate and reached the kitchen just as the angry voices reached a deafening crescendo of sound.
“What on earth is all this shouting about?” she demanded.
“If you please, mum,” replied the hot-eyed and panting housemaid, “me and cook's not speakin'.”
* * *
A certain art critic was invited to an artist's studio to express an opinion of the latter's most recent picture.
“Well, candidly, my dear fellow,” said the critic, after a brief examination, “I think your foreground is beastly.”
“Oh, indeed!” said the indignant artist, “and perhaps you think the cattle in the background are beastly, too?”
“Certainly not,” replied the critic, “They're anything but that.”
* * *
A young soldier handed in a telegram, reading “Dear Mother, please send me ten shillings am coming home by wire.”
* * *
A man had a slight difference of opinion with his wife. But he acknowledged his error generously by saying: “You are right, and I am wrong, as you generally are. Goodbye, dear,” and he hurried off to catch his train.
“So nice of him to put it like that,” his wife said to herself. And then she began to think about it.