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The Audit Office, Wellington, N.Z., 8th April, 1929.
I hereby certify that, after investigation of the publisher's lists and other records, the average circulation of the New Zealand Railways Magazine for the 12 months ended May, 1928, is in excess of 20,000 copies per month during the whole of that period and that, during the months of February and March, 1929, the circulation has increased to over 22,500 copies.
Controller and Auditor General.
With his usual skill in getting at the meat of the matter, Bacon described Time as “the measure of business.” The measurement of time itself, in its practical application to everyday affairs, is now under serious consideration by most of the nations of the world in the hope that its compuation may be put on a more businesslike basis.
What have been described and classified as the “undisputed effects” of the present calendar are the unequal lengths of the months, the incessant changing of day names for the same dates in different months, and the inconvenience for school, court, holiday, and general business purposes of an Easter which swings about in an irregular manner and within the ambit of an arbitrary system, for a period of thirty-five days.
The project most favoured to overcome all these defects is that known to the Assembly of the League of Nations as project “C.”
This project is based on the lunar month, and seeks to establish thirteen equal months of twenty-eight days each. Following June would come the new month, “Sol,” to be succeeded by July. The choice of the name “Sol,” by the way, seems to show that even in the world-wide time measurement scheme, its northern projectors have suffered from a hemispheric superiority complex. “Sol”—the sun month—follows June. That is all right for the northern hemisphere. But—if the name means anything—it should follow December in the southern hemisphere.
The spare day left at the end of a 28-day December is to be called “Year Day,” and when Loap Year comes this day is to be inserted at the end of June as “Leap” day.
The whole scheme seems very alluring, particularly to railwaymen in this country. We have been working on 28-day periods for our accounting almost since the inception of our system, but it has always required some calculation or reference to instructions to know at any time just how the month stood in relation to the railway “period.” Under the new system Sunday would always be the first, eighth, fifteenth or twenty-second day of the month, and so with each of the other days. Thus the last day (the twenty-eighth) of the month would always fall on a Saturday. The watchmaker's task, to make watches shew the day and date as well as the hour, would be quite a simple matter under this new system. Consulting calendars would be practically unnecessary
The Gregorian calendar certainly served its purpose, since its universal acceptance in 1528, in preventing the years slipping out of step with the seasons, but the inconvenience of the monthly diversities, having been tolerated through four hundred years, could quite easily be avoided by an adaptation to meet modern business requirements, and without, we should think, any popular agitation such as moved the mob to cry “give us our eleven days” when the Gregorian arrangement was decided upon for England.
* * *
Well pleased with the results of its combined business and pleasure tour by Commerce train last year, the Auckland Chamber of Commerce have again arranged a tour by train through portions of the Auckland province to commence on the 15th of November and finish on the 24th November.
The route chosen will take the party by train from Auckland to Pokeno, thence by motor across the route of the projected Pokeno-Paeroa railway, via the Hauraki Plains. There the train will be joined for Te Aroha. The Commerce train will then set off for the Northern Peninsula, arriving at Kirikopuni on the 18th November. From here the Public Works train, and then motors, will be used for travel to Dargaville, Ruawai, Kaihu, and Kaikohe, via the Waipoua Forest, Waimamuku, Opononi and Rawene.
The tour includes a visit to the Bay of Islands annual A. and P. Show at Waimate North.
Other places to be visited are Kaitaia and surrounding district, and Kawakawa, via Mangonui, Whangaroa and Keri Keri. From Totara North, on Whangaroa Harbour, a launch cruise will be made, before leaving via Waiomio Caves (near Kawakawa) for Okaihau, where the train will be rejoined.
Having travelled by train from Kawakawa to Whangarei and inspected places of interest there, a visit will be paid to Waipu, the party returning from Whangarei to Auckland on the morning of the 24th November.
The condensed itinerary mentioned indicates the comprehensive nature of the trip to be undertaken, a tour which has been made possible chiefly through the active interest taken in the project by the settlers and local bodies in the districts to be visited.
The General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, intends to accompany the party.
* * *
To people who travel extensively in New Zealand, for either business or pleasure, the “tourist” tickets, issued by the Railway Department, are decidedly attractive. These tickets can be obtained to cover unrestricted travel over all the Department's lines in both Islands, or over North or South Island lines, as desired. In the former case they have an availability of seven weeks and in the latter four weeks, but for a small additional charge they may be extended for periods up to four weeks.
In the past “tourist” tickets have been available for first-class travel only. They have, however, proved so popular that the Department has now decided to extend the concession to cover second-class travel.
In the matter of securing new business for the railways I have felt for some time the great potentialities of concentrated business-getting effort on the part of our 19,000 employees.
During the last Conference of our executive officers in Wellington, it was suggested that possibly some members might refrain from action in the direction indicated because such assistance had neither been specially asked for, nor, in Shylock's words, “so nominated in the bond.”
For the above reasons I think some statement on the question might be in the general interest.
It need hardly be pointed out that every suitable action on the part of members to influence business towards the railways, or to notify where it may be influenced, is assured of the general approbation of the management. We want the business, we can carry extra traffic at small additional cost, and it is our definite aim to make the service as self-supporting as the conditions make possible.
In this work every member may be swayed by a higher motive than mere self-interest. My own confidence in the value of the service the Railways render to the people of New Zealand is very definite. I believe that whenever any member secures a passenger or a consignment of freight for the Railways he is, at the same time, performing a useful service not only for himself but also for the country as a whole.
Even if a member feels no personal capacity for salesmanship, which has been aptly described as “the art of finding out what people want,” he is invited to pass the word on about projected trips of friends or likely movements of goods of various kinds between one district and another. Such information should be gladly availed of by any traffic man, and the proper representation by him of our facilities should help to secure the business. In any case, the interest taken in their movements or business, if presented in a helpful spirit, would be appreciated by the people concerned and result ultimately in favourable reactions towards the Department.
Not only the staff, but members of the public who know of cases where, by proper representation, business might be secured to the railways, are invited to draw the Department's attention to it. The nearest railway man could be told about it. He would pass the story on to the right person to clinch the business. The purely selfish aspect—that the more work we get the better will be our own prospects—would naturally be expected to appeal to members of our staff. But to them, as to the public, the wider appeal is made also—that of helping the country by a fuller display of interest in the country's own transport business. In this respect the railways’ and the country's interests are identical.
By the issue of comprehensive notices and publications we are giving every opportunity to employees to know what our services are; and an added zest will be given to their daily work if they can utilise that information for the purposes of salesmanship on behalf of the railways. And if the information broadcast through the various publicity channels of the Department should be considered inadequate, anyone has only to ask for further information at any time or suggest how further it could be made available, to gain this necessary assistance for helping on the increase of business.
General Manager
The Otahuhu Car and Wagon Shops presented a pleasing picture of industrial efficiency when the Auckland Chamber of Commerce party visited them on Tuesday, the 24th September. This was the first public visit to the works. The party was conveyed to Otahuhu from Auckland by the first passenger train to run over the seaside deviation via Campbell's Point and Westfield. The weather was perfect, the tide high, and the beauty of Auckland's new waterfront approach was seen in all its grandeur under ideal conditions.
The party was met at Otahuhu by the General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, by whose direction arrangements had been made for showing the party (of about 300 members) over the shops, in sections.
The greatest interest centred in the new Car Shops, where the cars for the new Rotorua trains were seen in various stages of construction. Each of these cars, of which there is a total of 16 being built, occupied a dock of its own, on a track running off the traverser of the Midway. The visitors were particularly impressed by the bright light in which all the operations of construction are performed, and by the ample room and convenient arrangements provided for carrying out the work. How beautiful the completed new Rotorua Express trains will look could well be imagined from the fine appearance of some of the more finished cars. The vitron-enamel metal sheathing, with its fadeless colouring, finished in Midland Lake red and bearing the Railway coat-of-arms, gave the outside of the cars a handsome appearance, which was enhanced by the broad view windows with which each car is equipped, and the all-New Zealand timber (chiefly rimu) used for the inside decorations. The window glass has slotted grips to make movement easy, and the windows are depressed or elevated as required in the simplest manner. Another new feature is the upper panel of the windows with an easily adjusted type of glass ventilator that makes the regulation of ventilation much more satisfactorily arranged than any of the previous methods in use. In the Car Shop there are twenty-six car bays provided, and every one of these was found to be occupied by cars, either under construction or being repaired.
Other features that interested the visitors were the machine shop (where, again, good lighting and plenty of room for the easy transference of heavy material were particularly noticeable), the paint shop and the wagon building and repair and bogie-wheel departments.
It took the party the better part of two hours to see all over the shops, which have a covered area of eight acres.
At the end of their inspection the visitors were entertained at morning tea by the Railway Department, in the men's large refreshment room, which is an interesting feature of the works.
In addressing the gathering, the General Manager of Railways, Mr. H. H. Sterling, said:
“Mr. Vice-President, Mr. Mayor, Ladies and Gentlemen,—
“I assure you that it is with feelings of very great pride and satisfaction that I have to welcome you on this visit of inspection to the Otahuhu Workshops. In carrying out a function of this nature I feel that we are performing a necessary service to the community, for it is part of our duty to make the people acquainted with the details of the work the Department is carrying on in regard to both its kind and its magnitude.
“On this occasion you have had a chance to become acquainted with the methods and purposes of the new Otahuhu Workshops.
“I wish, in particular, to thank you heartily for the great response which you, as representative of the commercial people of Auckland, have made to the invitation to be present to-day. I feel that the more the people come in touch with what is being done by the Department the more quickly will we come to a solution of the problems which confront us. (Applause.)
“This is a job which belongs to no one man. It concerns everybody—you as owners and users of the railway, as well as ourselves—the suppliers of your transport needs. On this point I would remark that the only possible way in which the success of our job can be measured is by the manner in which we succeed in giving satisfaction to you, as users of our services. I conceive it to be our job to supply the highest possible quality of work at the lowest possible price. That is our purpose; and in achieving
“The old Newmarket workshops were built many years ago, when the Auckland railway was a very small affair. The line then did not extend beyond Helensville to the north, and there was no through connection to Wellington. At the time the Newmarket site was chosen it was probably considered to be as far out of Auckland, in relation to the size of the city, as Otahuhu is now considered to be. So the workshops were put up there, and served quite well their day and generation. But as the flow of traffic called for more and more expansion it was felt that a point had been reached when patchwork methods to cope with that expansion could not be carried further, on the Newmarket site. The matter happened to reach its culmination point at the time when the Fay-Raven Commission surveyed railway conditions in New Zealand. This Commission certainly did good work in pointing out the difficulties under which the railways of this country were labouring in regard to their workshops.
“You, as business men, will readily realise that it is impossible to expect to get the best results when work has to be carried on in cramped position, and when the work is not flowing in the natural way. Under those circumstances it is impossible to achieve the aim of business organisation—to obtain a high-class job at low cost.
“The whole position was reviewed by our executive staff, and after close examination of the position and requirements, it was decided to build the Car and Wagon Shops for the whole North Island, at Otahuhu, and the Locomotive Shops in the Hutt Valley, Wellington.
“The work of construction, as you have seen it to-day, gentlemen, has been planned in accordance with the latest ideas regarding industrial lay-out, that is, in such a way as to lend itself to the natural flow of the work. Under the new methods, immediately a job comes into the workshops it is analysed and scheduled.
“Upon this point an interesting question was put to me by a visitor to-day. He said that the supervision of a large workshop such as this one must be a difficult job. I replied that so would the supervision of a large quantity of bullion be under ordinary conditions; but when you had a proper strong-room built, all that was needed to guard the bullion was a small key. It is the application of this principle to workshops management that makes supervision possible and adequate. When a job does not arrive at its right place, on schedule time, it is then that the supervisory power available can be directed to find the point of failure, and when this is located defects in organisation can be discovered and remedied.
Under such a system it is possible to secure a machine-like precision in the performance of work. And I leave it to you, gentlemen, after
“I believe it to be our duty to take a broad view of our responsibility to the people of the country, as owners, and to the men as employees; and, taking that view, I think the provision of a dining-room and social hall and other improvements of a like nature will be found a good investment from the point of view of the business man. Such things help towards efficiency by making for good health and encouraging a contented spirit.
“In this workshop there is a total staff of 1,200 employed, and the area set a side for the work is 110 acres. It contains 10 miles of rail tracks and three miles of concrete and bitumen tracks.
“I think,” continued Mr. Sterling, “there is little doubt that, owing to adverse conditions, the standard of work put out during the last decade may not have been all that could be desired. But, in addition, we must remember that the standard of demand has undergone radical changes in the last few years. The carriages you have seen being built to-day are radically changed from any we have had previously. You appreciate the improvement, and I assure you that it will be continued to other rolling stock in our passenger-carrying service. We are entering upon a new era of transport, and at the start I think the Rotorua trains you have seen to-day are something we may all be proud of. (Hear, hear.) In them we are using New Zealand timber to the maximum extent possible at present, and we contemplate introducing a kiln-drying system for New Zealand timber which will enable us to use it to a still greater extent. (Applause.)
“I trust you have all had a very pleasant morning. I hope that you have had the opportunity to gain information that will be interesting and valuable. As business men you will appreciate the task the Railway Department has before it, and, so far as Otahuhu Workshops are con–
They were all satisfied that the place was laid out on an industrial basis, and that, wisely, a large area had been provided, which would allow room for expansion when necessary. They had seen much about the shops, had been impressed by the magnitude of the undertaking and the efficiency of the machinery installed, which, no doubt, meant the Department was now in a position to cater for all the work offering for a considerable period.
Mr. Stewart said he was sure the business men would co-operate with the Department in passenger and freight business, they should see that the Department was given as large a share as possible. (Applause.)
He desired to congratulate the Department upon studying the welfare of the men, the excellent layout of the paths and lawns, and on introducing the best industrial methods of other countries. He then asked the Mayor of Auckland (Mr. Baildon) to move a hearty vote of thanks to the Department for having made the trip possible, and for the trouble taken by the General Manager and his executive officers in providing for the informative morning they had spent. (Applause.)
Mr. Baildon expressed his thanks for the kind invitation to pay a visit to the Workshops. He desired to congratulate Mr. Sterling and his Department on the permanent appearance of all the work. Everything was spick and span, and gave the impression that the construction was of a most permanent nature.
“I am inclined to think,” said Mr. Baildon, “that in a few years the place will be too small. It is therefore pleasing to note that there is plenty of room in the area provided for expansion.” A thing that pleased him in particular was to find that so much in the shops was of
Mr. Baildon went on to congratulate the General Manager (Mr. Sterling) on the manner in which he was tackling motor opposition. “You haven't got that on your own, either,” said Mr. Baildon, amidst laughter. “My big objection to the motor is that most of the things used in connection with motors are imported—come from overseas. Let us keep the work in the country. By patronising the Railways we will be doing that.” (Applause.)
Mr. Baildon concluded by expressing thanks for the invitation, and congratulations on the success of the undertaking which they had been shown over that day. The vote of thanks was received with hearty acclamation.
Mr. Sterling briefly acknowledged with thanks the remarks of both speakers. Before dispersing, at the call of Mr. Stewart, three cheers were heartily given for Mr. Sterling.
The “Daylight Limited” express between Wellington and Auckland, introduced this year on the 30th September, has already drawn considerable patronage. The first day out of Auckland it had sixty passengers, and the next one hundred and twenty. The north-bound traffic was in proportion. The trains start from each terminal a few minutes before 8 a.m. and reach their destination soon after 11 p.m., which is good travelling for a 426-mile run with a number of intermediate stops.
Nothing sadder can be said about a man than these words: “He's losing grip”—losing grip of himself, losing grip of his work. When the grip goes, everything goes. When the loss of grip spreads among individuals the national grip ceases—and other nations take hold. Thus it was with the Roman Empire. Many causes have been mentioned for its decline and fall, but there is no need to argue about more than one cause—loss of grip. The Romans let go, let things slide—and they slid.
* * *
Perhaps the main difference between modern civilisation and the culture of ancient Greece is in the multiplicity of interests in 1929 A.D. Of course the great majority of those interests are fussy or trivial. As soon as marvellous machinery, mass production, and all kinds of industrial efficiency and what-not do something which should ease the cost of living, new interests are invented to increase the white man's burden.
* * *
In Bacon's essay, “Of Youth and Age,” first published three centuries ago, one sees much that can apply well enough to men of to-day. Here are some of the shrewd philosopher's comments:—
“Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold, stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end without consideration of the means and degrees; pursue some few principles which they have chanced on absurdly.”
“Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to compound employments of both (youth and age): for that will be good for the present, because the virtues of either age may correct the defects of both.”
* * *
“Where no counsel is, the people fall; but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety,” says one of the Scriptural proverbs. In the light of modern experience one may, without irreverence, suggest “confusion” for “safety,” with the support of that homely proverb: “Too many cooks spoil the broth.”
Of course the mind of the great Dr. Samuel Johnson ranged over the matter of “multitude of counsellors” in the conversations which the indefatigable Boswell inflicted upon him. “Providence,” the burly sage said, “has wisely ordered that the more numerous men are, the more difficult it is for them to agree in anything, and so they are governed.” People may argue about Johnson's adverb, “wisely,” but there can be no question about the difficulty of agreement among numbers.
* * *
Many a shrewd, keen, business man has been a sad disappointment on a committee concerned with things outside the range of his workaday routine. A talent for tallow may not be helpful for town-planning. New movements call for initiative and constructive imagination in which plenty of successful business men are deficient, except in their own special fields of operations. The daily touch with matter-of-factness—the cult of exactness and “tin-tackness”—gets the mind so inured to the hard-pan of things as they are that it cannot spring to the making of new policies or the shaping of new ideals in human affairs. Of course there are numerous notable exceptions in New Zealand as elsewhere, and one hopes that the exceptions will multiply, for the live business man, when he does have a hobby for the community's benefit, does get things done. The ideal committee for any good purpose will have a number of such men, each taking a task, each working in with the others, all stimulated and encouraged by a worthy chief.
A large vested interest in the world (all worlds) is Science. It is not many years since science was the Cinderella of the human family, but she has left the ashes, and she dictates to the prince to-day. Even now one may see an occasional joke about the absent-minded scientist—but such jesting tends to be absurd. Science has truly done much for humanity, but could do more if it gave more attention to humanity and less to inanity—speculation about the fate of the world billions of years hence and much other pother about similar futilities. Science is apt to think and do too much as science merely for science's sake. This is known as “pure science,” which may be sometimes pure nonsense. Science has to get a little more eyesight, a little more common sense, and much less mumbo-jumbo.
* * *
The telephone is supposed to be a blessing to mankind. Is it, really? I see before me the hard dial—the cruel lying face—of an automatic. Yesterday I nearly poured into that copper countenance the little museum of curios which I use as paper-weights. Oh, the good language squandered to give scant relief, because nobody could hear it in the far beyond. No careful working of that dial could get a response from the number desired. It was the Tower of Babel over again. I wanted a plumber, and I got a professor of psychology. I rang for a florist, and was bumped into a pork-butcher. I sought a poet, and I found a haberdasher—and so the diabolical business went on. When the expert came up to the wreck of me and resuscitated me and the devil's instrument, he genially explained that it was very easy for the old dial to play monkey-tricks. It just needed a little dust under its cheeks or its chin to put it in the mood for practical jokes. Another job for science, which should soon have enough to do to unhitch itself from the stars for a few days and link up with atoms that matter.
* * *
Food theorists have mesmerised masses of the public by persistence. Some years ago the Daily Mail felt that the traditional beef and beer were not strong enough foundations for Britain's greatness, and decided that the nation must save itself from horrible decadence by eating brown bread (the whole wheatmeal loaves) every day. The campaign was well run, and, of course, it could only have one end—a submission of the public to its daily dose of brown bread, until the Daily Mail became bored with the business, and turned its thoughts to prizes for collections of British butterflies and butterscotch.
Some expressive new words are evolved in the United States of America, but unfortunately they are soon abused and lose their original point. Take “goop” for example. Apparently it was applied, at first, to the persons who licked a finger to turn the leaves of books. It is easy to believe that the word “goop” came from the sound of a thumb walloping across a thick lip. But the fold of “goops” became as wide as Thackeray's field of snobs. Indeed, somebody wrote a little book entitled: “The Goops, and How to be One.”
Then the sickening “stunt” which was stale long before the Great War began! This abominable word did not fill any need; it simply strode over better words.
* * *
Will man ever return to the gay plumage of the Elizabethan, Stuart, Queen Anne and Hanoverian periods? Why in nature is man to-day the only male that is not more attractively arrayed than the female? Will he go on for ever with the mild-toned tubes of tweed and the skimpiness of bobtailed coats? Will not some high-placed brave reactionary restore the old-time colours, ruffles, and flounces? No doubt some of the “shieks” have hopes still that a member of the Royal Family may set new styles of brightness in men's dress, to the great delight of milliners and drapers, as well as tailors, but such a possibility is too slight to cause excitement. A few feeble legs are hidden in Oxford bags, but these things are merely silly, nothing better than sloppy, floppy tubes, not nearly as graceful as the ordinary stovepipe styles.
* * *
Sometimes gloomy prophets, hesitating to fix a date for the destruction of the whole earth, content themselves with a prediction of the ruin of a part—merely a country or two. For example, about thirty-six years ago, many credulous inhabitants of the North Island of New Zealand were alarmed by a crazy statement that it would sink wholly into the sea on or before a specified date. Similar silly forecasts for New Zealand have been made since then, but this country—one of the oldest in the world, as geologists count time—continues to hold its place firmly in the rolling globe. New Zealand need not worry about the untruthful nickname “Shaky Isles,” which appears occasionally in Australian papers, when a report of an earth-quake is cabled across the Tasman Sea.
As reported in the daily press a recent visitor to the United States, Mr. Gerald Pattle, of Palmerston North, is of opinion that the American railway carriages are not more comfortable than those on the New Zealand Railways. “Our railways are very little behind those of America, taking into comparison the narrow gauge to be contended with in our country,” he stated. American trains had longer non-stop runs, and some of the expresses were faster, but the majority of them were not as comfortable as the New Zealand expresses. In the carriages used in the Dominion the seating accommodation was convenient and comfortable, but, as the railway car in America had to be converted into a sleeper at night, the seats were almost upright during the day, and consequently did not allow the traveller to recline properly. As far as the dining services on the American railways were concerned, Mr. Pattle thought these most excellent. Very fine food, well cooked and served, was provided, and equalled that of any first-class hotel.
* * *
The Devonshire Association and the Newcomen Society recently celebrated at Dartmouth, England, the bicentenary of the death of Thomas Newcomen, the inventor of the steam-engine. Engineer-Captain E. C. Smith, R.N., in an address on the occasion, spoke of the four great landmarks in the history of the steam-engine, the first of which was the introduction of the atmospheric steam-engine by Newcomen; the second, the discoveries by James Watt; the third, the adoption of the marine compound engine; and the fourth, the invention of the turbine. Newcomen's invention was the first successful application of science in the development of the motive-power engine. Little honour had been paid to him in the past, but in 1921 a memorial was erected at Dartmouth, and the Newcomen Society, founded a few years ago for the study of the history of engineering and technology, hoped to obtain permission to place another memorial on the walls of Bunhill Fields, London, where he was buried in 1729, in a grave the site of which was now not known.
* * *
Speaking at the recent annual reunion of the Chief Accountant's Branch of the New Zealand Railways, the Assistant-General Manager of Railways, Mr. M. Dennehy, said he considered it safe to say that without the railways, modern industry could not have attained its present high standard. The railways, more than any other factor, by cheapening transportation, had been responsible for the great industrial revolution of the last fifty years. In New Zealand the railways had been responsible for geographical divisions of labour which could not otherwise have taken place. They enabled the coal mines to be worked, the timber industry to be developed, stock to be brought to the markets and to the freezing works, and, particularly in the early days in Canterbury, wheat to be carried to the ships.
* * *
On the New Zealand Railways for some time past pillows have been supplied for hire on the principal long distance trains. These are fine fat pillows, for which newly laundered slips are supplied after each run, and they add greatly to the comfort of travel. Their increasing popularity with the public has led to their introduction on several additional trains.
A member of the Scots community at Dunedin booked for the first time by the “Night Express” to Christchurch recently. Shortly after the journey commenced the train attendant went through the ordinary carriages with a supply of these pillows. “How much?” asked the Dunedin man. “One shilling,” was the reply. “I'll take three,” said McTavish instantly. This rather staggered the attendant, so he diffidently asked why three were wanted by one man. “Can't we keep them?” said McTavish.
Just one hundred years ago—in October, 1829—there were conducted the famous Rainhill locomotive trials which preceded the opening of the historic Liverpool and Manchester Railway. This event is, of course, an outstanding incident in the story of the railway and the steam locomotive. Our London Letter this month is devoted to a review of this vital milestone in railway progress.
The Rainhill locomotive trials marked the opening of a new railway era. What is more they established, beyond all question, the superiority of the “Iron Horse” over existing means of movement, and paved the way for the extensive developments in the locomotive field that have been witnessed in the century which has succeeded the victory of Stephenson's far-famed “Rocket” engine that momentous October day. It is indeed a big jump from the crude locomotives which appeared in the Rainhill trials to the modern high-power steam railway engine. Yet, even at this time, there is a distinct likeness between our own locomotives and those of the pioneers of 1829. Without the patient efforts and unsparing genius of George Stephenson and his co-workers, the efficient locomotives of to-day could never have been produced. Lacking the aid of machines such as these, transportation would now have been in a much more backward state than is happily the case. Let us all, therefore, in this banner year in railway history, doff our caps in token of our appreciation of Stephenson's immense contribution to the progress of railways—and, indeed, of mankind in general.
When pursuing the subject of early railway working, it is quite impossible to get away from the magic name of Stephenson. There were other engineers who played a vital part in the development of the locomotive, but it is George Stephenson, and his brother Robert, who ever and again step into the limelight with some fresh achievement to add another rung to the ladder of railway progress. At the Rainhill trials the genius of Stephenson received its hallmark. Here, the world-famed locomotive “Rocket” beat all comers in the £500 open contest promoted by the directors of the Liverpool and Manchester line, for the most efficient steam engine.
Four years previous to the Rainhill trials the world's first public railway had been opened—the historic Stockton and Darlington line. On this occasion, George Stephenson's “Locomotion No. 1” had strikingly demonstrated the possibilities of locomotive haulage, and in the following year, 1826, construction of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, an idea originally suggested by a London engineer named James, was commenced. The Liverpool and Manchester Railway was planned as a double-track route between the two points named, to carry both passengers and merchandise. The promoters were backed up by the Liverpool and Manchester cotton merchants, as it was realised that, through the construction of the railway, the journey time of 36 hours (by water) from Liverpool to Manchester could be reduced to
The countryside between Liverpool and Manchester is, for the most part, flat, but included in the route to be covered was the treacherous waste known as Chat Moss—a huge stretch of bog containing millions of tons of spongy vegetable deposits. This marshland, four miles in extent, had to be drained and levelled, and at one point an embankment of moss was formed, stretching fully a mile in length, and varying in height from ten to twenty feet. Sand and gravel were laid over the moss, and upon this was placed a roadbed of broken stone, supporting the wooden sleepers upon which the rails rested. As the work proceeded the weight of the material pressed down the surface of the marsh, and thousands of cubic yards of filling disappeared in a night. Despite these difficulties, the engineers doggedly stuck to their task, and, after some 520,000 cubic yards of filling had been employed, the moss was consolidated and a firm roadbed secured. A great deal of tunnelling had to be accomplished beneath the city of Liverpool, and the terminal at this end was reached by the aid of an incline, up and down which wagons were moved by an endless rope, operated by stationary engines. In all, the Liverpool and Manchester Railway was thirty-two miles in length. The greater part of the line was remarkably free from curves. There were sixty-three bridges, and the rails forming the track were of wrought iron, in lengths of five yards each, two inches broad, and one inch thick weighing 35lbs. per yard. The rails were supported by cast-iron chairs at three-foot intervals.
Towards the close of the year 1828, operations were so far advanced on the construction of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway that serious attention was turned to the question of motive power. A deputation was sent to Darlington to study and report upon the locomotives utilised on the Stockton and Darlington system, but as much doubt existed as to the best means of haulage to be adopted, it was in the end agreed to offer an award of £500 in open competition for the locomotive engine which, in the words of the promoters, would be “a decided improvement on those now in use, as respects the consumption of smoke, increased speed, adequate power and moderate weight.” The actual conditions were that the locomotive should consume its own smoke, have two safety valves, be fitted with springs, and not exceed six tons in weight, and £550 in price. If the engine turned the scales at less than four and a half tons it might be on four wheels. If it weighed more than four and a half tons, six wheels were stipulated. The successful machine had to haul three times its own weight on the level.
News of the contest spread rapidly throughout the length and breadth of Britain. Apart from the substantial money prize held out as bait, it was felt that immense prestige would come to the lucky winner. At that time about fifty primitive railway locomotives had been turned out at Home; in the United States a single model steam locomotive had been constructed, while in Germany a couple of engines had been built, but these did not prove satisfactory in service. At that time there were many types of stationary steam engines being used to draw vehicles up inclines. For the Liverpool and Manchester competition some ten locomotives were built, but only four of these appeared at the trials in 1829. A fifth entry there was, it is true, but this was a comical affair, known as the “Cyclopede,” consisting of a horse moving an endless platform with his feet. Even a century ago, so clumsy a contraption
Here, then, were the four locomotives which actually faced the judges at the Rainhill trials in October, 1829:—The “Rocket,” entered by George and Robert Stephenson and Henry Booth; Messrs. Braithwaite and Ericsson's “Novelty”; Timothy Hackworth's “Sans Pareil”; and Timothy Burstall's “Perseverance.” The “Rocket” had wheels of 4ft. 8 ½in. and 2ft. 6in. diameter. The cylinders, of eight inches diameter and seventeen inches stroke, were inclined at an angle of thirty-five degrees. The boiler which was six feet long and 3ft. 4in. in diameter, contained 25 copper tubes, each of three inches diameter. Working pressure was 50lbs. per square inch, and there were two exhaust outlets in the chimney, one for each cylinder. Weight in working order was four and a quarter tons. Both George and Robert Stephenson were concerned in the design and construction of the “Rocket.” Henry Booth, their partner, was the first secretary and treasurer of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway Company, and to him came the idea for the boiler tubes while the screw coupling was also his suggestion.
The “Novelty” locomotive, entered by John Braithwaite and John Ericsson, had wheels 4ft. 2in. diameter, on the Theodore Jones suspension principle. The cylinders were 6in. by 12in., placed vertically, driving through bell-cranks to a crank axle, the first employed on any railway engine. The boiler barrel which was twelve inches in diameter and ten feet long, contained a small tapering flue which returned on itself twice. Fuel was introduced through the top of the firebox. Bellows worked by the engine forced air into a closed ashpan. The fuel and water were carried on the locomotive itself, no tender being required. The weight in working order was 3 tons 17 cwt. Ericsson, it may be noted, emigrated in 1839 to the United States, where he produced the well-known early locomotive “Monitor.” Timothy Hackworth's engine “Sans Pareil” was regarded by many as a probable winner of the contest, for Hackworth was locomotive engineer of the Stockton and Darlington line, and was recognised as being exceptionally clever. The wheels of the “Sans Pareil” were of 4ft. 6in. diameter, coupled. The boiler was of 4ft. 2in. diameter and 6ft. in length, having a return flue, and the grate and chimney placed at the same end. The vertical cylinders were seven inches by eighteen inches, inverted over the trailing wheels. Although slightly in excess of the weight stipulated by the judges for four-wheeled engines, the “Sans Pareil,” which scaled 4 tons 15 cwt. 2qrs., was permitted to proceed on the trials. The “Perseverance” locomotive entered by Timothy Burstall, of Leith, made a most feeble show in the trials, and few details are available concerning it. It is believed to have been a four-wheeled machine with vertical cylinders, driving by means of return connecting rods, a countershaft turning the axle by gear wheels. Its weight was in the neighbourhood of three tons, and, like the “Novelty,” it had no tender.
The course at Rainhill consisted of a level stretch of track about nine miles east of Liverpool. The first test took the form of running backwards and forwards over a measured mile and a half, one-eighth of a mile being allowed at each end in addition for starting and stopping. Later the condition was imposed that the locomotives should be required to run seventy miles practically continuously at an average speed of not less than ten miles an hour. Immense crowds gathered on the morning of October 6th, 1829, and it was only with difficulty that the track could be cleared for the contestants. Graphic pen and brush pictures have been given us by historians and artists of the day of the gay scene on that historic morning. Lords and ladies, engineers and cotton merchants, simple country folk, and city workers, all classes were represented, and it was with a tremendous
During the first test the “Rocket” drew 12 tons 9 cwt. at the speed of twelve miles per hour, and later ran light at eighteen miles per hour. With a load of 13 tons (including passengers) it covered the course at fifteen miles an hour. The cheering of the dense crowd had scarcely faded away when the “Novelty” locomotive took the field. This engine actually attained a speed of twenty-eight miles an hour without a load, and many a reckless sportsman was at once prompted to “put his shirt” on the “Novelty.” Alas, on the resumption of the trials on October 7th, the “Novelty” upset all calculations by bursting its bellows, after performing one trip loaded at 20 3/4 miles an hour. The following day the “Rocket” performed a seventy mile run at an average speed of fifteen miles per hour, at one time reaching twenty-nine miles per hour. The “Novelty,” patched up by its designers, again faced the trials on October 10, but ill-luck seemed to dog it all along the line, for on its first trip the feed-pipe burst. The “Rocket” then again stepped into the arena and accomplished two runs without tender at thirty miles an hour. Poor old Timothy Hackworth was as unfortunate as his competitors, Messrs Braithwaite and Ericsson. His locomotive “Sans Pareil” met with disaster after attaining a speed of fourteen miles an hour; while the “Perseverance” meeting with an accident during the course of its preparation for the trials, had to be withdrawn after running a short distance at about five miles an hour.
It was apparent that Stephenson's “Rocket” was an outstandingly superior engine to any of the other entrants, and to the designers of this machine, therefore, went the prize of £500 offered by the Liverpool and Manchester directors. To Timothy Burstall for his locomotive “Perseverance” went a consolation prize of £25. The “Rocket” was at once put into traffic on the Liverpool and Manchester line on its opening on September 15th, 1830, and for six years it performed useful service. In 1836 the “Rocket” was sold to James Thompson, of Carlisle, for £300, and after working in colliery service for some years, it was handed over to the Science Museum, South Kensington, London, in 1862. The firebox of the “Rocket” has unfortunately disappeared, but the whole of the original engine,
The Rainhill locomotive trials form an epic of the “Iron Way.” Railway developments on a scale undreamt of by Stephenson and his fellow pioneers followed in the wake of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway opening. Little by little all Britain was covered with a network of railway tracks. The glistening steel riband flung itself across every continent, and now, despite developments on the roads, the railway continues, after a century of service, to rank as the world's most important means of land transport. By mankind the name of Stephenson must ever be held in the highest esteem. By railway-men the world over the romance of the “Rocket” will never be forgotten.
The only people, scientific or otherwise, who never make mistakes are those who do nothing.—Huxley.
A real railroader is more than a jobholder.
He works on a railroad because he loves it, because there is something about it which thrills him and lures him.
He never loses the joy of watching a speeding train screaming into the sunset, with its power and its rush and thunder, its hint of far places, its battle against distance and the elements.
To him there is a deeply human element about that vast, thunderous, vibrant machine called a railroad—something to cherish, to foster, to work for and fight for and consider always in its every element of welfare.
Those men soon began to stand forth unwilling to take the easy course of the yes-man, but eager to exert initiative and to battle sincerely for constructive principles.
For the true railroad man there is so much to be done that there are not enough days in the year, not enough years in a lifetime, for him to accomplish everything he wants to do. He is as much a pioneer as anyone who ever discovered new country; the urge onward is ceaseless, and that is what makes life worth while.—Sir Henry Thornton, President of the Canadian National Railways, in the New York “Saturday Evening Post.”
The travelled sybarite in luxurious warm mineral baths has a new pleasure in store for him should he ever discover a certain hot spring on the north shore of Lake Taupo. The charm of it lies in its setting as much as in the delicious “feel” of the waters. It is a shallow rock tank of light-blue water, ever renewed by a constantly boiling spring that bubbles up in the rocks under the pumice cliff about a mile down the east coast of Taupo Moana from Taupo township. There is no bathing spring just like it in all the Wai-ariki country. A little beyond it is the glistening white beach of Waipahihi Bay, below a Maori village.
This bath, called Taharepa, is open to sky and lakeside. One can lie at ease there and lazily watch the ripples creaming on the beach; see even the yellow steam curl drift from Ngauruhoe volcano and the ice and snow of Ruapehu flash in the sun fifty miles away. The Maoris long ago carved a head-rest at the shore end of the bath. You can take a nap there, lapped in the soothing waters. A little low rocky point runs out close by, and on its edge, near the water, is a graceful kowhai tree which just about this time of the year should be covered in golden blossom. It completes the scene, and is prettier than any picture.
We hear now and again from an immigrant who has been unable to make a living in New Zealand. But there are others. Here is a self-reliant, competent example of an English family. They came out to the Dominion six years ago, the husband and wife and two sons. The head of the family is a skilled artisan, and he obtained work right away and kept it. The family leased a small farm at Horokiwi, near Wellington, and pegged steadily away, milking cows and keeping poultry and so on. Lately they were able to buy a dairy farm of two hundred acres when it was offered at a bargain price. The wife and mother in telling the story of the family's struggles and success, declared that “New Zealand is the best country I have ever been in, in which to make money. We are much more comfortably off than we could ever have been had we remained in England.”
And yet the family had had no previous experience of country life. But all four, and especially the plucky woman, had determination and industry, and no doubt mutual confidence and a hopeful vision of the future helped them to find their feet in the new land.
New Zealand has numerous communities of Highland Scots and their descendants, and though the Largs councillors in Old Scotland have banned the bagpipes the Caledonians in these Islands are never likely to follow this curious example. Pipe bands are popular, and never a prominent Scot is laid in his grave but the inspiring and heart-stirring strains of the
There are still a few survivors of the grand old Highland stock who took part in the migration of the Nova Scotian settlers to North New Zealand seventy years ago. One who passed away to “the land o’ the leal” the other day was Mr. John R. Maclean, of Waipu, North Auckland. He came out here as a small boy from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, with his parents, who hewed a home out of the bush at Waipu, with scores of their compatriots. These Scots are the descendants of the crofters who were forced to emigrate from the West of Scotland after those wholesale crimes against a people—the cruel evictions of over a century ago. The memory of those “clearances” rankles yet in the Scottish Colonial mind; the heart still is Highland, even to the fourth or fifth generation removed.
Splendid settlers those ex-Nova Scotians, and splendid sailors too. There is a story still told with pride in Waipu and by the Scots of Auckland that on one day in the old sailing ship era there were at anchor in the Waitemata Harbour, either just arrived or about to sail, nine vessels, all commanded by McKenzies, and all McKenzies of Waipu.
The development and uses of hydro-electric energy in New Zealand are not confined to the big Government power works such as those on the Waikato River and at Lake Waikaremoana and Lake Coleridge. Many townships, and even some farms have their own convenient supplies for driving machinery and lighting and cooking. An example of the modernising of back-blocks settlements in this respect is the hydro-electrical system possessed by a small township at the head of Kawhia Harbour, West Coast. This little farming community centre, with a population of about a hundred, has harnessed a rapid stream that flows down from beautiful Pirongia Mountains, a forested range very nearly three thousand feet high. This self-contained generating plant of about 40 horse-power belongs to the township. Besides supplying power to work a dairy factory and to light the settlement with electricity, it heats and lights the public school—a great boon, particularly the heating, in a rural school. There is an open electric fireplace, and electric power is also used in making hot cocoa for the children during
New Zealand is wonderfully fortunate in its abundance of natural water power, its thousands of rivers and streams, and the use of these for providing power, is increasing every year.
It is curious that after the lapse of more than a century the dressed fibre of the valuable native flax, phormium tenax, is not so finely finished, with all the resources of modern machinery, as it was in the early days of the trade when the Maoris scraped the leaf with mussel-shells. That primitive method, combined with the bleaching after the native style, produced a beautifully soft, silky material. Thousands of Maoris toiled frantically in the flax swamps for “muka,” the dressed article, was the wherewithal to purchase their prime necessaries of life, muskets, gunpowder and lead. No tapa cloth garments of the South Sea Islanders ever were as soft and agreeable to the aboriginal skin as the cloaks and mats made from
the “harakeke” plant that grew everywhere. Flax fibre to-day is in demand for binder twine and other purposes, and mills are working on scientific principles in many parts. But attention is being directed to the necessity for improved methods of treating the leaf so as to ensure the best results in producing the article.
There is the possibility of many uses for flax besides those of the present. Flax makes excellent paper, makes artificial silk also, and it should in time give New Zealand all the cornsacks and wool-packs that are needed here instead of sending large sums away to foreign parts. If it were possible to employ the old-time Maori methods, the result would be interesting and profitable. But other times, other labour.
The flax business of a hundred years ago, by the way, was one reason why the Maori was so fond of making war. He needed all the slaves he could capture to make “muka” for the traders, so that he could buy more firearms and powder to prosecute more wars—the eternal circle.
The series of articles on “The Manawatu,” extracted from a thesis written by Mr. G. A. Mill, for the Degree of Master of Arts in History, is concluded with the following instalment.
The end of the Company alone remains to be told with the valedictory references which must always be appropriate when a body of honest enterprising men have carried through successfully, to the benefit of a large district, an extensive and difficult operation.
The end was not unexpected. The twenty-one years from the opening had passed, and the Government could purchase without penalty. On December 7th., 1907, notice was served on the Company by the Premier (the Right Hon. Sir Joseph Ward), of the intention of the Government to take over the line at the expiration of twelve months’ notice. However, the Company was in no hurry to sell, probably wanting the receipts from the holiday traffic or to complete the financial year on February 28th., 1909. As the result of negotiations, the Company agreed to give possession of the line on December 7th., 1908, but payment was not to be completed till February 27th., 1909, and for the use of the railway between December and February the Government were to pay the sum of £15,000, being the estimated quarter's profit.
On August 20th., an Imprest Supply Bill was passed through the House providing for the payment of £500,000 on August 31st., to retire those debentures which the Company had been unable to cancel. A Bill, known as the “Wellington and Manawatu Railway Purchase Bill,” became law on September 25th. The price was to be £900,000, and the value of all stores on hand based on cost prices. The Company was to assign all contracts to the Crown, to maintain the plant intact and to maintain all insurances. Another section provided that servants of the Company might become permanent officers of the New Zealand Railways with superannuation.
The last annual meeting was held on March 18th., 1909. It was reported that that portion of the year during which the Company had operated the line had been exceedingly profitable, establishing records and making the balance-sheet a very pleasant document to shareholders and Government alike. Of the trio (Messrs. Wallace, Plimmer and Travers), who, by their enthusiasm, caused the formation of the Company, all lived to see the completion of the line, but not one was still alive in 1909. Of the directors as a whole, one hears little but praise. Their honest, noble-minded purpose, and thorough and vigorous prosecution of it, earned them much respect. A spirit of thankfulness and generosity was evidenced by the carrying of votes for additional honoraria to the directors and auditors and a bonus on
giving a total of £513,228 for the assets. Liabilities totalled 8,228. Thus £505,000 7s. 1d. remained for distribution, or £2 19s. 4/10;d. in the £.
Although the cost of the line on the balance sheet of 1908 was £1,047,181, minus £218,805 written off, making the amount £828,376, yet the line had been built at a cost much under that of the cheaper portions of the Wairarapa line. The line has been written down for taxation purposes at rock bottom, while much useful improvement had been paid for out of revenue and not put down to capital.
Sir Joseph Ward considered the purchase a bargain. For this price, or lower than the cost of similar Government sections and not much (£300 per mile) above the average for New Zealand, he was obtaining a railway better equipped with efficient rolling stock than almost any other line in the Colony. So declared not a few members in the debates on the Bill.
At the final distribution on March 24th, 1909, the shareholders received for each £1 share paid up, the sum of £3 0s. 1/2d.
Mr. Kirkcaldie said at the last shareholders’ meeting: “Taking into consideration all moneys paid to shareholders to date, and assuming that the liquidators distribute 55s. per share, shareholders will have received an average dividend equal to 12 1/2 per cent. per annum upon their money, invested at simple interest; and assuming that a further 4s. 6d. or 5s. a share be paid, the investment will be equal to 13 1/2 per cent. per annum since the final call was made.” Truly this was a remarkable record for an investment company whose directors, according to Mr. J. Plimmer, Senr., “should be prepared to lose their money.”
In the annual report of 1906, Mr. Kirkcaldie is credited with the following statement: “It may be interesting to shareholders to know that before the opening of the railway the cost of sending a ton of potatoes from Otaki to Wellington was £5. The railway now carries the same quantity for 7s…. Since the railway commenced operations it has carried up to the present year 4,726,326 passengers, 5,500,563 sheep, 217,868 cattle, and 105,530 feet of timber. This will enable you to form some conception of the benefits the railway has conferred on the Colony.”
In 1888 the traffic had been worth £45,563, but in 1908 it was valued at £162,208.
Mr. T. Lindsay Buick, in his book “Old Manawatu,” sizes up the situation when he says: “But whether we look upon this line with a favourable or a hostile eye because it is privately used, there can be no contravening the fact that it is to its existence that the Manawatu largely owes the prosperous and influential position that it holds to-day. It is not contended that without the railway the Manawatu would still have remained in a state of nature, but it is no exaggeration of the facts to say that, but for the building of this line, there would neither have been the same degree of rapidity in the development of the district, nor would that development have been accomplished with the same amount of profit to the settlers… … Its worth as a colonising agent should be borne in mind, and some allowance made for the part it has played in turning the wilderness into a garden—a service that can scarcely be expressed in money value. If the Manawatu Railway has not been the salvation of the district it has at least been the royal road to that end.”
In a virgin state, with neither access nor transport for any of its natural products, the land was almost as useless as a desert. To-day most of the land has been cleared and some of the flats are known all over the Colony for the quality and abundance of their pasture. Dairying is the staple industry, and some of the land used for this pursuit is valued at over £70 an acre, and what is more, changes hands at this figure. Well might the pioneers have spoken the words used by Kipling in his poem “The Settlers”:—
The air compressors used in most of the Railway Workshops prior to the reorganisation were steam-driven, and ran at a speed of from 90 to 100 revolutions per minute. These compressors were only large enough to supply a very limited number of pneumatic tools throughout the shops. Thus difficulty was not infrequently experienced in maintaining the necessary air pressure to enable the pneumatic drills, chippers, riveters, hoists and grinders to be worked at the maximum capacity. (One of these steam-driven compressors is shown in the illustration marked No. 1.)
With the coming of the new order in the Workshops and the introduction of modern pneumatic appliances, it was found necessary to instal electrically-driven high-speed compressors, running at a speed up to 300 revolutions per minute. A typical installation is shewn in illustration No. 2, which features a 100 h.p. motor coupled to an air compressor with Lennix short centre drive. The compressor has a capacity of 650 cubic feet of free air per minute.
The quality of the air to be supplied to the air tools is an important factor in their efficient operation. The air should be free from all impurities and moisture. Damp air, or air laden with dust, causes considerable trouble in service pipes, and additional wear and tear on the pneumatic tools. Ordinary free air entering the inlet of a compressor always contains moisture in the form of the invisible vapour of water—the amount of water being governed by the percentage of humidity of the air at any temperature. In order that this moisture may be eliminated, an “after-cooler” consisting of a vertical receiver fitted with water-cooled tubes, is provided. This “after-cooler” after receiving the air from the compressor, reduces the temperature to normal, and the dirt and water are precipitated and drawn off, so that only clean dry air is passed through the service pipes to the operating tools.
Another great improvement affecting the supply of air has been the replacement of the old, small bore, service pipes with large pipes designed to deliver air to every part of the shops at a definite and maintained pressure with a minimum of pipe line friction, thus enabling all tools to be worked at their maximum efficiency. By virtue of these modern pneumatic installations much laborious manual work has been eliminated.
Work that had formerly to be done by hand can be more expeditiously performed by the use of power-driven tools. The use of compressed air and pneumatically operated appliances has proved to be a convenient and effective method of providing a flexible supply of power to portable machines, thus effecting a considerable saving in workshop operations.
(Continued).
Mr. F. Vogel, of Kogarah, New South Wales, continues his account of the “Inauguration of the Australian Railways,” and, in the following article, deals with pioneer railway construction in Victoria.
The first permanent settlement in south eastern New South Wales, then known as the Port Phillip District, was made in 1834. Three years later Melbourne was founded on the shores of Hobson Bay. As a result of the rapidly increasing population, the demand for separation from New South Wales became gradually more insistent and, on 1st July, 1851, the District of Port Phillip was proclaimed a separate Colony under the name of Victoria.
As far back as 1845, proposals for the construction of railways in the Port Phillip District had been submitted to the New South Wales Government, but had not been entertained.
The first practical efforts for the construction of railways were made during the middle of 1852. Previously, neither the population nor the extent of the internal trade held out sufficient inducement for the prosecution of such enterprises, and it was not until the great increase of the population and its concentration in the interior, consequent upon the gold discoveries, that the necessity for railway construction became apparent.
Exaggerated accounts from Europe, of the success of railways under private ownership, having reached the Colony, the public manifested a general disposition for establishing railways by means of Joint Stock Companies. But sufficient consideration was not given the question as to whether the circumstances of a young country, with a limited population, were in favour of the introduction of a system applicable to older and more populous countries. Subsequent experience showed that the colonists had very little inclination to invest their capital in such undertakings, even when the Government guaranteed dividends.
In June, 1852, a deputation waited upon the Governor, Mr. La Trobe, regarding the construction of a railway from Melbourne to Mount Alexander. The deputation asked for financial aid, a guaranteed dividend on the amount of subscribed capital, and considerable land grants.
The Governor replied that on certain conditions, he would grant a sum of £1,000 towards preliminary expenses, but no loan money towards the formation of the railways. He was also willing that a land grant be made to the Company, but stipulated that all arrangements made and assented to, were made conditionally upon the approval of the Home Government.
During the following months it became evident that, immigration, which was rapidly proceeding, was materially hastening the settlement of the colony. Under this stimulus, railway projects were regarded from an enlarged point of view and the provisional Committee of the Company renewed their application for assistance to a much greater extent. Assistance was eventually conceded by the Government. Pending these negotiations, however, a company was projected for the construction of a railway between Melbourne and Geelong. Proposals to amalgamate this Company with the Mount Alexander Company were discussed before either had any legal existence. After considerable delay, the proposal was found to be impracticable, and the contemplated amalgamation fell through.
While these preliminaries were being considered, a third company was formed, the object being the construction of a railway from Melbourne to Sandridge (now Port Melbourne) on Hobson Bay, a distance of about two miles.
Bills for the incorporation of these Companies were submitted to the Legislature. The Melbourne and Hobson Bay Company's Act was assented to on 23rd January, 1853; the Melbourne-Mount Alexander and River Murray Act on 8th February, 1853, and the Melbourne-Geelong Act also on the same date.
The Act incorporating this Company authorised the raising of a capital of £100,000 and also conferred upon the Company the power to double the capital. The right of purchase was reserved to the Government after the expiration of ten years, upon condition of paying £250 for every £100 of the Company's stock. The Company also received a grant of land, 100 yards wide, along the entire length of the line and sites for the termini at Melbourne and Sandridge.
However, within twelve months, the inadequacy of the Company's capital became apparent and the directors issued shares to the amount of £200,000.
The line was completed and opened for traffic on 13th September, 1854, being the first railway opened in Australia. (The first railway was under construction in New South Wales, but was not opened for traffic until 25th September, 1855.)
Owing to the non-arrival of engines from England, orders were placed with a local firm for the construction of a locomotive (it is claimed that this was the first built in the Southern Hemisphere), but it turned out to be a partial failure. An article which appeared in a contemporary newspaper gives an amusing account of the opening ceremony:—
“Sir Charles Hotham and Lady Hotham and a considerable number of distinguished officials having taken their places in the train, which contained only four carriages, the signal was given to proceed. The steam was turned on, but the ‘iron horse’ would not budge an inch. Great was the dismay depicted on the faces of the engineer and driver. The valve was opened to its widest extent, and the panting of the overladen ‘steam horse’ was quite alarming. The band of the 40th struck up a merry tune to hide the confusion, but still the train would not move. Accordingly a whole host of policemen and railway porters set to work and pushed it along the line by main force for a hundred yards, when it again came to a dead stop. More police then came on, and a stout gentleman in a dress coat, ready for the banquet, came behind and applied his shoulders vigorously to the buffer of the last carriage, and, at last, by slow degrees, the train moved amid shouts of laughter from the assembled thousands in Flinders Street.”
For some time passengers only were carried on this historic line, and even this traffic was suspended for a whole month pending the arrival of locomotives from England.
In March, 1856, the Company obtained an Act enabling it to construct a short branch railway to St. Kilda on the Bay, and this was opened for traffic on 13th May, 1857. The Company subsequently acquired several short private lines from Melbourne to the Bay, and became known as the “Melbourne and Hobson's Bay United Railway Company,” possessing 16 1/2 miles of railway. In 1878, the Government purchased the Company's properties (these being then the last private lines existing in the Colony), for the sum of £1,320,820, but the lines were not handed over to Government control until 1st July, 1879.
This Company was projected in 1852, with a capital of £750,000, but, as this proved insufficient, it was increased to £1,000,000. The Government advanced £5,000 towards the payment of preliminary expenses before one shilling had been subscribed by the shareholders, and not more than £1,500 of that sum had been expended, when the Bill, the details of which did not receive sufficient attention from the Legislature, was passed.
The Act conferred upon the Company a complete monopoly of the chief railway enterprise of the country. The Government could exercise the right of purchase only after the expiration of ten years, and between that time and twenty-one years, on condition of paying £250 for every £100 of the capital stock of the Company, or a sum equal to 25 years’ purchase of the annual divisible profits, estimated on the average of the three preceding years.
For some time after the passing of the Act, the whole of the capital consisted of the balance of the £5,000 granted from the Public Treasury. Although the Government had guarantee share-holders for 25 years, a dividend of five per cent. on their paid up capital out of the public revenue, the directors had to announce at their first half-yearly meeting that only £2,281 in shares had been subscribed. During the ensuing months sufficient shares were sold to enable the Company to commence work, and a contract was let for a portion of a branch line from Melbourne to Williamstown. Within twelve months of the incorporation however, the directors realised that their position was hopeless, and offered to dispose of the Company's rights and privileges to the Government, which, however, declined to accede to the Company's terms.
The directors then made a final effort to obtain sufficient funds to complete the Williamstown branch line, and, although they sold additional shares, increasing the number on the share register to 5,127, representing a subscribed capital of £130,000, it was found to be insufficient to complete the line. The directors recognised that their only hope of being able to finish even this small portion of their undertaking entirely depended upon an effort to raise money in England, but this expectation also failed them.
At it was impossible to raise the necessary capital in the Colony, the Government was again approached with a view to purchasing the Company's property and assuming its liability. After lengthy negotiations, it was agreed upon that the Government pay to the Company the amount of capital then paid up by the shareholders, payable in debentures issued at par, bearing interest at five per cent., payable in October, 1873. The Government also agreed to execute unfinished contracts and discharge all reasonable liabilities. In March, 1856, the Legislative Council passed the necessary measure to enable the Government to take over the Company's properties.
“Lake Wakatipu I regard as in the front rank of tourist attractions of the world. One might spend a year in that locality and then not exhaust its glories. Queenstown (on the lakeside) is one of the prettiest spots on earth …” said a well-known European traveller before leaving the Dominion some time ago. Lake Wakatipu is reached by rail either from Dunedin or Invercargill. In the following article, specially written for the N.Z. Railways Magazine, Mr. James Cowan gives some impressions of the world-famed lake and the rugged grandeur of its setting.
When first I sailed along the South Arm of Lake Wakatipu from the rail-head at Kingston and gazed up at the tors and spikes and sword-blades of the strangely weathered mountains that precipitously parapeted its dark blue depths, I thought it was more like some sea-fiord than a far inland lake. Everything was built on such a scale that it seemed a part of a savagely bold sea coast. The waters in that sound, where a lead-line would go down a thousand feet or so, were of an uncanny stillness; not a ripple broke the surface until our steamer's bow cut through the unsunned floor and set it quivering in long undulations.
The late afternoon sun set the ancient cragtops glowing like incandescent rocks; down in the watery canyons, not more than a mile wide in places, it was as if one were in a deep river gorge into which the direct sunshine fell only at midday. It was very grand mountain architecture, and the play of colour on the summits was a picture of glory; but it was a relief to pass out from the narrows and see before us a wider vista of the lake, with the middle arm spreading away to the elbow on the west and north.
“We'll pe there in a ferry few minutes what-effer,” said my old Highland sheep-farmer acquaintance, who had a station, he told me, on the shore of the lake. Then I saw the sunlit white houses and soft-green plantations of Queenstown, as pretty a little town as one could find in the length of New Zealand—all the prettier for its contrast to the rather grim landscapes that hemmed it in.
That was a first impression of deep dark Wakatipu. I saw it from a very different viewpoint a few days later. Three of us climbed (on horseback) Ben Lomond; we started from our Queenstown hotel before dawn, and we watched the morning magnificence of the sun breaking through the sea of mist that lay around us—we were literally above the clouds there—and looked around at the darker sea of mountain tops, incredibly broken, shattered as if by ages of earthquake play, that stretched away for leagues upon leagues to north and east. It was from there that we saw the lake as a mountain kea might see it in his flight, or as an aviator might see it from his flying plane. It suggested at once some enormous snake of blue lying lazily watchful, coiling its slow length among the mountains. It appeared from this high look-out place a lighter blue than it was five thousand feet below. It lay as quiet as could be; the morning breezes had not set in, and we saw the currents and flows that slightly darkened its surface like little rivers of blue oil.
That was the fancy that the general contour of Wakatipu suggested, a water-reptile, perhaps, half uncoiled, in its bed amid the bare and aged mountains. Recollections came too, of the Norse nature-myth about the vast serpent that encircled the world. But there is no need to go to Old World mythology for imaginative folk-talk about such places as this. There is an ancient story of the Maoris, given me by old legend tellers of the Ngai-Tahu tribe at Moeraki and Puketiraki. They said that these great lakes of the South Island were magically formed by their remote ancestor Rakaihaitu, who was the chief of the canoe Uruao, which came to these shores from the South Sea Islands very long ago, probably a thousand years, as nearly as could be reckoned from the whakapapa or genealogical list. The sailor rangatira travelled through the
ko or digging implement, fortified with enchantments, he excavated the beds of many of our lakes, which immediately filled with water and gratified his sense of the fitness of things. He began in the North by scooping out Rotoroa and Rotoiti, the South Nelson lakes which form the chief sources of the Buller River. Then he worked southward, and his final achievement was digging out the bed of Wakatipu.
It is a fine poetic fancy, this fairy tale of Rakaihaitu. We may take it that this explorer of old was something of a geologist in his Maori-Polynesian way, and had more than a glimmering of scientific fact, the glacial origin, in part at any rate, of these southern lakes, Wakatipu in particular, is so obviously trenched out by that slow but most powerful of agencies, the rock-grinding ice mass.
Fifty miles in length, with a mean breadth of two and one-third miles, and extreme depth of 1,242 feet (as revealed by Mr. Keith Lucas's bathymetrical survey in 1902), Wakatipu is the most markedly glacier-made lake of all our New Zealand freshwater sheets. It is, too, a collecting tank for many snow-fed rivers, some of which, again, have their sources in beautiful alpine tarns. Its outlet is that famous gold-bearing river the Kawarau.
More than sixty years ago the scene of frenzied diggers’ activity, and now of the most modern scientific efforts for the salving of hidden gold. It is rather marvellous to think of the depth of this huge water-trough among the mountains. The bottom of the lake, where the floor is almost level, in the south arm near the base of the Bay Peaks and extending thence to the bend of the lake just opposite Queenstown, is more than two hundred feet below ocean level.
Fantastic as well as grim is the face of some of these mighty mountain walls. Never can one forget the sunset glow on the Cecil Peaks, the Bayonet Peaks; Mt. Walter. But the picture to remember above all others is that of those shark's teeth peaks that serrate the grand front of the Remarkables. Carved sharply against the sky this quite monstrous sierra rises from one dizzy pinnacle to another until it culminates in the Double Cone, twin crags of saw-edged rock very nearly 7,900 feet high—6,900 feet above the lake.
Queenstown is a pleasant place, its old-fashioned air, its suggestion of pioneering history which is not overlaid entirely by modern innovations. It is a town of garden charms and tree solace. The lure of gold brought the blue-shirted diggers up this way just on seventy years ago, and many a place name about the lake is a relic of those days of wash-dish and sluice. Five-mile Creek, Lake Dispute, Skipper's, Shotover, and a score of other names hold stories of endeavour, romance, success and tragedy that would make a book. Queenstown Park is quite a fascinating place, and Queenstown Bay, viewed from here, is a dream of a picture on fine calm evenings, with the white village and green woods and soft blue mountains mirrored in its glimmering smoothness.
There, in the park, one has an unexpected reminder of Antarctic adventure, the great boulder with its inscription to the heroic Captain Scott. The slopes are strewn with such great rocks, now half-covered with trailing climbing vegetation. They are ancient beyond reckoning, the moraine rocks of the glacier that once came snaking down where the blue water now fills Wakatipu's winding trench. I remember once an old Irish farmer friend of mine in the North discussing such rocky finger-posts to the past when we were talking over experiences at the base of the Southern Alps. Just such ice-striated boulders, smooth-backed roches moutonnees as are seen in abundance on these lowlands far from any present glacier, he had seen in his native mountains of Wicklow, the reminder of a remote glacial age. “When I was a small boy,” he said, “I asked my father what made those curious markings like deep scratches, on the rocks. His reply was, ‘Those marks, my lad, were made by the teeth of God's harrows.’”
It was an even more poetic concept, that Irish countryman's fancy, than the Maori legend of Rakaihaitu and his mighty ko, the ice-plough of the Alps.
Queenstown is passing cold in winter, but those freezing nights are compensated for by the exceeding glory of the days in a spell of quiet and calm over mountain and lake. It is worth getting up, even in winter, to see the jagged shadows of the eastern mountains projected in sharp outline on the steeply slanting mountains opposite, and to watch the dark adumbrations on the grey precipices chased lower and lower by the dawn, until the sun leaps flowing over the range top and the silent lake flashes into life.
Grander still are the pictures at the head of the lake. You go up there by the excellent Government steamer, run by the Railway Department, which brought you from the head of the rails at Kingston. It is a smooth voyage of about twenty-eight miles, and every mile is a new picture of wonder. Rock castles are all around, the range pinnacles that sometimes seem huge ruined medieval fortresses set on the mountain's brow. The left side, as you go up the lake, presents the most enchanting effects of colour. In the morning the deeper corries and glens are veiled in purple haze, and slowly-lifting mists; waterfalls streak the dark grey and blue ranges, glinting in the sunlight, cascading out of the mountain beechwoods; rosy clouds float across the crag heads; shadows and high lights alternate along the deeply-scored hill faces. Over yonder is sheep country, in spite of its formidable contour, and my old Highland wool-man of the steamer has his homestead and shearing sheds somewhere in yonder.
There are three low green islands in this northern arm of the lake. About the largest, which the Wakatipu people call Pigeon Island, I got a place-name to a story many years ago from a Maori veteran of the gold-diggings, Henare te Maire, of the Waihao Country, South Canterbury, who was hunting for treasure in the famous Shotover away back in 1862. Wawahi-waka—“splitting canoes”—he said was its name. To this little island the Ngati-Mamoe and other tribes resorted in the stone age to fell and split trees for the purpose of making canoes. Totara pines of large size grew on these isles—now covered with koromiko and other shrubs—before they were overrun by fire. Greenstone axes and ornaments of the vanished Maori have been found on Wawahi-waka.
Kinloch and Glenorchy, the townships at the lake head are the starting places for many very wonderful alpine expeditions. Grandest of all the peaks in the Wakatipu country is Mt. Earnslaw, and here, at Glenorchy, one is reminded that that climbing pioneer, the Rev. W. G. Green, with his two Swiss guides and two other companions, set out for the ascent of the eastern arete of Earnslaw in 1882. But few people want to tackle such a giant of the icy Alps. Most of us are content with easier jaunts, and of course everyone wants to see Paradise. That elysian spot is more readily reached than the stranger would imagine, it is only ten miles or so away.
Beech woods, hung with swaying moss like some fairy forest; lakes that are heaven's looking glasses, peeps of far away snows and glaciers, here and there a farm in strangely romantic setting; snow-fed streams and mountain brooks, and then you are at Paradise. On a day of summer glory you will not wonder at its celestial name. In reality the name origin is not quite so poetic.
The old-time diggers so christened the place because when they first ventured up there it was alive with paradise duck, the putangitangi of the Maoris—and very good eating they were, the greatest delicacy of every gold fossicker's camp.
The Rees Valley and the Lennox Falls make another expedition of unusual charm—a river of utter peace—except in the time of floods—a tussock plain shut in by long shouldering slants of ranges. Earnslaw's shining glaciers, and grand old forests hanging on its mountain side. And waterfalls—they are so many in this land of streams that a cascade has to be of a beauty almost indescribable in words to be singled out for mention over the others. Mere photographs are inadequate for the proper picturing of this country; even an artist's brush is not altogether satisfying. You want colour photography perhaps, but with the motions added; a cinema that will faithfully reproduce the richness and depth of the colour that eludes even the cleverest painter.
From the Secretary, Normanby Co-operative Dairy Factory Company, Ltd., Hawera, to the General Manager of Railways, Wellington:—
When the Normanby Co-operative Dairy Factory Co., Ltd., commenced the manufacture of standardised cheese, some delay was experienced in obtaining the new brand for crates. The position was becoming desperate as the storage space for cheese was taxed to its utmost and was interfering with the working conditions at the factory.
After considerable agitation the brand was made and forwarded by train to Messrs. Cook and Sons, Palmerston North, and received into that firm's yard at 10.30 a.m. Fifteen men were immediately put to work and turned out 550 crates, which were trucked by 2.30 p.m. on the same day. They then arranged with your Transport Officer at Palmerston North to have this truck connected with the passenger train from Palmerston North, and the truck was sent through urgent, being shunted off at Normanby siding at 4 a.m. next morning. Our difficulties had been explained to your Transport Officer, who immediately made arrangements for the expeditious transport of the truck of crates.
This action on the part of your Department was of great assistance to this company. I am asked by my Directors to write you expressing appreciation of the services rendered by your Department in arranging for this truck of cheese crates to be treated as urgent.
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From Mrs. J. D. Arthur, Utiku (near Taihape, North Island Main Trunk), to the General Manager of Railways, Wellington:—
I wish heartily to thank you for the wonderful kindness and consideration extended us by the Railway staff during our recent bereavement.
There were many things done to make our lot easier, but the one that we shall never forget is the unhesitating way in which you stopped the Express and the “Limited” to suit our convenience.
I should also like to thank, through your Journal, the staff at Utiku, who rendered us every assistance and to whom we are deeply indebted.
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From the Secretary of the Canterbury Sale Yards Company, Ltd., Christchurch, to the Divisional Superintendent, Christchurch:—
Last year arrangements were arrived at with the assistance of Mr. Pawson and your Departmental heads, by which the supply of sheep trucks for Addington sale yards were to be provided at such times, and in such numbers as would permit of continuous loading out of the Company's siding from the commencement of the sales on Wednesdays during the busy stock season until outward consignments of stock were completed.
As the busy season is now nearing completion, I take this opportunity of placing on record the most satisfactory service your Department has rendered to the buyers and owners of stock consigning out of Addington market each week. As you know, we undertook to provide sufficient men to maintain continuous loadings, and it gives me great pleasure in recording that the Department provided the trucks to enable continuous loading being maintained without prolonged periods of delay for lack of trucks. Such service is of considerable assistance to the market, and I am sure is also a benefit to your Department, in enabling the turnover of trucks being so much the quicker.
May I suggest that those responsible for the excellent service rendered be notified of our appreciation of their courteous and close attention and co-operation in our efforts to meet the requirements of the Addington market.
Dear reader, in what manner do you act, react, and counteract when you fancy that you detect a fault in your physiological architecture, such as a warping of the props, a sagging of the arches, atrophy in the attic, or overstrain of the personal magnetism which stringhalts your ability to deliver the spoken word with the horsepower necessary to induce chubb-hearted capitalists to peel their wads to the core?
When you feel that your interior decoration calls for renovation, and your personality is suffering from the inroads of pessimism, do you charge round the spinach bed every morning in a semi-raw condition; do you take deep breaths in short pants, adopt the feeding habits of the Angora goat, and go to bed with the hens and get up with the milkman, or do you disclaim any responsibility for your physiology by gathering up your personal debris and carrying it to a man of medicine for examination and rectification? An egg to an elephant that you do!
When finally you stand before him, divulging all your physical faults which have lain hidden from the world for so long, you feel yourself to be an awful example of what Nature never intended. The man of mystery glances you over with ill-concealed contempt. He pokes you scornfully where your chest ought to be. He strikes you nonchalantly over the liver, slams you in the wind, and sighs. You are too weak to hit back. In fact, you feel that, after all, perhaps he is right; you are a mistake; you are an infringement of the rules; you should never have been allowed; your latitudes and longitudes are all mixed up. By some inexplicable oversight you were allowed to slip past the censor—perhaps as an example to others; who knows? The doctor turns his back and bows his head as though the burden were too great; then suddenly he throws a quick glance over his shoulder as if to satisfy himself that you really are true, and not merely the result of overwork. Finally he sits at his desk with his head in his hands, probably brooding on the inscrutability of Nature. No doubt he is also considering the advisability of writing to the “Poultice” about you, under the heading “Misprints in the Book of Nature,” or “Should A Doctor Dwell.” Eventually he pulls himself together as one would say: “Enough of this weakness.” These things must be faced, and after all, even Nature has her “off days.”
Then he listens-in to one or two respiratory items with a rubber set, plays “eena-deena-dinah-dough” up and down your spine with his knuckles, counts your ribs to discover what it really is that holds you together, and then goes off into a trance.
When he recovers and delivers his verdict, you feel that your only hope is to be taken to bits and reassembled. He is quite candid; he does not recognise you as a member of the human family—you are simply a bad case; just so many symptoms held in captivity by your
But, dear reader, according to the law of averages, how often does the “Put” side of your bank-book score over the “Take” columns decisively enough to enable you to emulate the skipper of the schooner Hesperus, or even the man who essayed to cross the Atlantic on his uppers.
But be not sorely distressed by your financial inability to hunt tamo'shanters and decanters in the highlands of Caledonia, catch red herrings in the Black Sea, stalk llamas in pyjamas through the wilds of the Bahamas, chase cheeses round the Zuyder Zee, or trap the deceptive demijohn in the great American Desert.
Let those who will, sing of the ocean's heaving bosom (to say nothing of their own) and the splendours of foreign travail, but permit me to say on behalf of the management that New Zealand's permanent way can put it over any other way, whichever way you look at it. For restoring the pristine blush to the red corpuscles reclaiming the skin you love to clutch, and reorganising the affairs in the department of the interior, the railway is capable of handing the raspberry to any other means of travel known to Cook.
Consider, debilitated reader, the advantages of travelling by train through your own woodland scenes, as against dodging the “customs” through the sights, sounds and smells of “furrin parts” and at a mileage cost which is responsible for the permanent settling down of the lost tribes of Israel.
Let us examine the N.Z.R. as a curative for such modern maladies as salesman's throat, that tyred feeling (common among road-hogs), curvature of the financial column (contracted by trying to make ends meet), lightness of the head (prevalent among the old-young and the young-old), Scotsman's cramp (usually in the hands), “spots” before the eyes, gold fever, financial frenzy, singing in the head (vulgarly known as the radio-rats) and numerous other disorders discovered by the statistician.
Anyhow, let us take it for granted that you lack that velvety feeling in the cylinders described by benzine boosters; that bounding irresistibility common to the “life of the party,” the man who fills the manager's chair after three lessons, and hard-boiled Hector who flickers through the “flickers” nightly.
You totter into the railway booking office, assisted by the taxi-driver and a sentimental policeman, feeling like the echo of a burst tyre.
But—what happens the moment your hand closes over those two inches of patriotically coloured cardboard emblazoned with a strange device and bearing cryptic signs and symbols. Suddenly you experience a feeling of freedom. The mystic talisman in your fist is the key to Nature's garden, where the wind blows fresh and free and is fragrant with the scent of bush and grass; where the hills dissolve into the blue mystery of the distance, where life abounds and nature cries aloud to you to Live; where existence is more than Existence, and the pulses pound with the desire to “follow the sun”; where the sky is open and the land is wide; where the sun welcomes you and the wind buffets you good-naturedly until the blood romps round your system like the good red vintage it ought to be.
All this you feel—and more, for when the train pulls in like a good old staunch friend you warm up to memory. Then you recollect past journeys and anticipations, experienced before you began to grow thin on top and thick round the meridian; Odysseys of youth, when Romance lay round the next bend and adventure beyond the next cutting; when the sweeping landscape was all yours to dream on, and you looked with eyes that saw beyond the far blue ranges; eyes that peopled the plains with galloping heroes, filled the valleys with deeds of derring-do, and the whole world with the vague unrest of Adventure.
Thus you begin to live again. Without your saying “get thee behind me, sciataca,” “lump it, lumbago” or “fly flu’” as advised to in the text-books on “psychological lollipops,” you feel your complaints becoming detached like devitalised fungi. Joy glows in your heart, just beneath where you imagine you have put your ticket. This piece of cardboard says Blossom Junction, so why should You worry. There are some three or four thousand enthusiastic railiologists behind you to see that you do get to Blossom Junction.
You loll back in your seat, experiencing that lullsome sensation—which you have never really forgotten—of being pushed in a pram. “Let ‘er go,” you murmur happily as the scenery begins to unwind itself past your window.
Europe, Chirrup, Barcelona, Gorgonzola, Beyrut, Beyrhum, and the Bay of Naples leave you cold. You say with wise old Bawbee Burns: “North, east, south, west—hame's best.”
Softly, you sing with the wheels, which click and clack and chuckle underneath you, like a girls’ college with the giggles.
When you leave the train at Blossom Junction, rejuvenated reader, you will be able to make light of the liver, and lighter of the lights, the limelight will light up your headlights, and your heart will be as light as a Lenten lunch.
A Trip On The N.Z. Railways.
Seeing that since Stephenson first fired his “Rocket” the railway engine has been dubbed the iron horse, is it not meet that we should turn from the iron horse to the meat horse, that noble animal who used to be the friend of man, and who still keeps alight the flickering flame of hope in the hearts of optipunters and furnishes the material for the “sport of kinks?”
Of all my equine associates I remember The Lunatic best, because he was the worst. He was as ugly as a night of terror, as rangy as a half-built house, and as mad as Ophelia. Although I would rather have ridden a push-bike over Sutherland Falls than mount him, he had his uses. If there was one thing he could do it was sledging firewood. I mind one day in particular, it was windy, and wind affected The Lunatic's lack of mentality.
Proudly, arrogantly, madly, he came stepping through the gate as if Caesar's chariot thundered behind him instead of a sled-load of rata.
Scornfully he eyed the cook, preening in the sun. Without warning, the man of pots and pans unleashed a hearty country sneeze. The Lunatic shrieked, side-stepped, and gathering his feet up in a bunch essayed to mingle himself with the distance, until, with a crash like the crack of doom, the sled met the corner of the whare. The wall crumpled up and dropped off like a climax in a cinema comedy, disclosing Whiskers, the post splitter, sitting terrified in a top bunk.
Meanwhile, The Lunatic lay on his back endeavouring to kick the roof off the world.
As my late friend ‘Orace, the ostler, was wont to observe, “There's something abart ‘orses—”
Certainly the worst horse is something superior to the schoolboy's definition: “A ‘orse is a quadrapig with a leg on each corner and a head on one end. At the other end is a tale which he unfolds like Hamlet or anny other animil.”
Like Hamlet and the horse, “I would a tale unfold,” but I needs must slam the stable door with the obvious observation that, for connecting up diverse points of the compass, the meat horse has been superseded by his big brother with the iron constitution. Especially popular is the iron horse when King Holiday reigns and there is Reduced Fare On The Railway.
It was in 1863 that the first locomotive was put together at Newmarket—it had been imported from England—and it seems to have been a very modest specimen of Stephenson's art.
The engine was made by Messrs. Manning, Wardle and Co., Leeds, Yorkshire, and was sent out per the “Andrew Jackson.” It was a tank engine of the inside cylinder class, with six wheels, all coupled together. The cylinders were 11ins. diameter and 17ins. stroke; the wheels 3ft. diameter (with Lowmoor tyres); total wheel base, 10ft. 3ins.; length of boiler barrel, 7ft. 3ins. by 2ft. 9ins. dia. (made of best Yorkshire plates).
The internal fire-box was made of copper; the brass tubes, 78 in number, being 2ins. in external diameter. A saddle tank, holding 40 gallons of water, was placed on the top of the boiler, making the total weight of the whole engine about 16 tons. The engine was fitted with powerful brakes, because of the heavy inclines on the railway.
The late Mr. Thomas Cheeseman used to tell an amusing story about this first locomotive. It was considered too heavy to be landed at the Queen Street wharf, then a rather crazy wooden structure, and the late Captain Casey was therefore engaged to lighter it ashore in one of his craft. This Captain Casey was quite a character in his way, and in the old files there are some very amusing advertisements from his hand.
He used a good deal of the advertising space for the time-tables of his boats that used to run up to Riverhead, to air his opinions on the political questions and people of the day, and even now, when they are all dead and gone there is a laugh in those caustic comments.
The skipper brought the wonderful locomotive ashore all right, on the waterfront where Customs Street now runs, and got it on board a trolley, which was then taken out to Newmarket, where the only bit of line was available.
The passage of the old skipper and his men through the streets must have been something in the nature of a triumphal march, for in the account afterwards presented to the Railway Commissioners, were two items, one a charge for a trumpeter to blow a bugle in front of the trolley in its journey up Queen Street, via Khyber Pass, and so on to Newmarket, and the other was for 120 quarts of beer supplied to sundry workmen who assisted in the progress of the engine from the waterfront to Newmarket.
It is rather sad to relate that both items were challenged by the auditor.
The Alps whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun.
—Shelley.
The most effective method of advertising scenic attractions is by pictorial means, which speak more eloquently than the most poetic description. Any region which is noted for its allurements can, with special advantage, be re-presented by means of a pictorial or perspective map, which is itself based upon an ordinary map or plan. Particularly is this the case when a fairly extensive area is to be represented. The extent to which perspective maps have been utilised seems quite inadequate in view of the wonders of our national scenery, which are an asset to the country and which demand that every means should be taken to present them in the most attractive way. As an aid to this object, the utilisation of pictorial maps should not be overlooked.
In the type of pictorial map here referred to the first consideration is the representation, with an approach to general accuracy, of the actual features of the country, such as will be of some practical as well as pictorial value. Although an artistic element enters into the production of a pictorial map, the kind of technique employed is a matter of taste; but a pictorial representation produced solely in accordance with some particular form of artistic expression—e.g., the impressionist variety—although excellent in itself, may cause an erroneous “impression” of the actual features of the terrain.
A perspective map possesses some advantages, apart from important considerations such as colour, technique, names, etc., over other means of depicting any region. For example, a photograph of an alpine scene is usually taken from a comparatively low altitude. Recognising this, a prominent New Zealand alpinist expressed the opinion that, for pictorial purposes, aeroplane photos might be more suitable. It seems, however, that this depends upon certain conditions under which the photograph is taken. In the case of the vertical aeroplane photographs, although they are often taken at fairly high altitudes, they are unsuitable pictorially and are intended to serve, by means of mosaic patching, the purpose of an ordinary map or plan. Expert knowledge is also required for the difficult task of their interpretation. As for the oblique aeroplane photos, which correspond to pictorial drawings, the altitudes from which they are said to be taken generally range from only 500ft. to 2000ft. But in the case of a perspective map, the elevation can be adjusted to take in any desired area. Also, information having advertising value can be clearly shown on a pictorial map, which would be obscure or indistinguishable in photographs. As a supplement to map data, however, photographs may be of great value in producing a pictorial map, particularly when the map information is incomplete.
The perspective map reproduced herewith, shows an area of over 200 miles of New Zealand territory. The elevation adopted in the construction to represent suitably the region was far beyond the photographic range of aeroplanes.
There is a choice of three methods in the production of a perspective map: (1) the perspective projection on the vertical plane, (2) the oblique plane, and (3) the cylinder. The first is generally suitable for pictorial purposes, the second may be employed if less obscuration of the features of the country is desired, while the third method is of use for a cyclorama or the developed cylinder. If the earth's curvature is taken into consideration in representing extensive areas, the perspective construction requires some modification.
In this drawing the perspective projection on the vertical plane was adopted, and, in order to represent a fairly extensive area, viz., from the Mount Cook Hermitage to the upper part of the Godley Glacier, the view was considered to be taken from an elevation of almost 8 miles, while the distance and bearing from the Hermitage equals 17 miles and 216 1/2deg. respectively.
The drawing was based on the one-inch-to-the-mile map and approximate contours were interpolated for every 1000 feet from the heights given on the map. A grid was then drawn on the map, thus providing, when the grid was thrown into perspective, a guide to drawing in the map information. When represented according to their perspective heights, the contours formed a good framework for the topographical features, the details of which were to a great extent filled in from photographic data obtained from various alpinists.
For the projected shadows, the sun's rays at an angle of 30deg. with the horizontal was chosen in the plane of the picture. The points
The chief consideration in the execution of the perspective drawing was a general degree of accuracy, and this appears to have been attained when alpinists, such as Messrs. A. P. Harper (President, N.Z. Alpine Club), W. A. Kennedy, and others, find no difficulty in recognising features independent of their names. It also gives at a glance a comprehensive view of the Mt. Cook region. In some important respects this is the first map of its kind produced in New Zealand.
“Mr. H. H. Sterling, the Big Chief of the N.Z. Railways, makes a hobby of pleasing the public with special travelling concessions. His latest little gift is with reference to parties by rail.
“The railway tariff provides that pleasure parties of not less than twelve members may travel first class at second class rates for any journey, and if the return journey is made the same day those who elect to travel second class are carried at three-quarters of the ordinary return fares.
“In the past all applications for the concession rates were submitted to the District Traffic Manager. Under the new system a stationmaster anywhere may grant the concession, or any passenger agent or business agent has authority to issue the necessary permit, provided he ascertains that the rolling stock can be made available for the party.”
(From the July issue of “Aussie.“)
Representatives of all branches of the Railway Service in Wellington filled the Dominion Farmers’ Institute Conference Hall on 12th September, on the occasion of the presentation of the Royal Humane Society of New Zealand's bronze medal to Mr. Cyril Mills, of the mechanical engineering staff of the Railways. Mr. Mills was instrumental in saving four lives in the fatal boating accident in the Paremata Harbour last December. The General Manager of Railways (Mr. H. H. Sterling) presided. He was supported by Messrs. M. Dennehy, Assistant-General Manager of Railways, F. C. Widdop, Chief Engineer, E. T. Spidy, Superintendent of Workshops, and G. G. Stewart, Officer in Charge of the Publicity Branch.
Amongst the visitors were: Mr. W. H. Field, M.P. for Otaki; Captain G. Hooper, Nautical Adviser to the Marine Department; and Mr. P. F. A. Coira, of the Royal Humane Society.
Mr. W. H. Field, who was introduced by Mr. Sterling, paid a tribute to Mr. Mills's act of bravery, saying that he did not know of the case of a man being more entitled to admiration. (Applause.)
Giving a more detailed account of the incident, Mr. Sterling, who made the presentation on behalf of the Royal Humane Society, said: “We are here to-day to do honour to our comrade, Mr. Mills, and I am very glad to pay tribute to him and to his act of gallantry.” Mr. Sterling said that on December 30th, 1928, six men attempted to cross the entrance of Paremata Harbour in a small dinghy, which capsized. Mr. Mills witnessed the accident, and in a small boat, went to their assistance. He managed successfully to rescue two men, and then returned for the third, and faced grave risk in a choppy sea, in getting a semi-conscious man aboard. However, having succeeded, he again set out and rescued a fourth man, at imminent peril of his life, landing this unconscious man on the beach. The other two men were drowned. “One can understand an act of bravery on the impulse of the moment, when the danger is not realised,” said Mr. Sterling, “but this incident was not one of that description. In face of obvious risk, Mr. Mills went out as his deliberate duty, and we must stamp it without any other evidence as an outstanding act of bravery.”
Mr. Sterling referred to Mr. Mills's past record, which he said thrilled them with pride. In the Great War. Mr. Mills was awarded the Mons Star and later received the Croix de Guerre. Also, at the age of 15 years, he held the swimming championship of the Midlands (England). “We are pleased,” Mr. Sterling said, addressing Mr. Mills, “that the Humane Society should have seen fit to reward your act by their bronze medal—the inscription on which reads: ‘Awarded to Cyril Vincent Mills, for an act of bravery, December 30th, 1928’—eloquent in its brevity. I personally have great feelings of pride in pinning this medal on your breast, and trust that you will enjoy long life to wear your decoration. I heartily congratulate you.”
The representative of the Royal Humane Society (Mr. P. F. A. Coira) also congratulated Mr. Mills, and, with Mr. Sterling, expressed the wish that he would long be spared to wear the decoration.
Mr. Mills, who was received with loud applause, suitably responded. He said he felt it a great honour to have received the medal at the hands of Mr. Sterling.
He was given three hearty cheers.
There is one interesting field of working where the methods followed in England and on the Continent differ widely—that of train signalling. The German signalling, for instance, is full of interest. In Germany what is known as the Siemens and Halse lock and block arrangement is favoured, developed to a high standard of safety and efficiency. There are 17,869 signal boxes on the German railways, about 1,000 of these being power-operated. The “stop” signal has a circular disc at the end of the arm, working in the upper quadrant. The signal arm is coloured red and bordered with an inch-wide stripe, or conversely, according to the background. Slat arm construction is common, this with the idea of securing better visibility. A disc about two feet in diameter serves as “distant” signal. This disc is painted yellow with a two-inch black border, and it is sighted at 700 metres from the stop signal. In the “off” position the disc falls parallel with the ground, and by night a double yellow light is shown. Points, signals and crossings are operated by the compensated double wire system, and track circuiting is very rare. Route indicators, also, are not favoured, their places being taken by dummies which point downwards left for divergence to the left, and downwards right for divergence to the right.
A correspondent, “Interested,” asks for some particulars concerning the Class Ba. locomotive recently converted to a modern standard and featured in the Magazine. The Chief Mechanical Engineer, to whom our correspondent's queries were submitted, replies as follows:—
The new boiler fitted to Ba. 552 (not 497 as was stated in error) has a wide firebox with a grate area of 26 sq. ft. It is a smaller boiler than that of the Ab. type, being shorter in the barrel. The foundation ring, also, slopes down towards the throat plate instead of being horizontal as in the case of the Ab. No alteration has been made to the wheel arrangement of the engine (an additional bogie wheel at the back end not being necessary), but the boiler is carried high on the frames, the centre line of the barrel being 7ft. 4in. above the rail. The main frames have been cut down at the top between the driving and intermediate coupled wheels, and the front of the firebox sits down on this lower part of the frame, the remainder of the firebox resting over the intermediate and trailing coupled wheels. The alteration has been made without adding any appreciable weight to the engine.
If you are fond of soft feminine lines you will undoubtedly lose your heart to the picture frock illustrated, which would look delightful in a silk fabric, such as silk moracain, plain or patterned crepe-de-chine. Whatever material you finally decide upon, however, do please bear in mind that it should have a fair amount of weight in it if the flare is to be a real success. Light-weight fabrics look well pleated or gathered on the straight, but they are never at their best cut on the circular.
The picture frock is a wonderfully simple one to copy. It has a figure-fitting bodice, the edge of which is piped and joined to the flared skirt, which is set into a few gathers at each side. The neck is cut with a tight V, and has turned revers in front which continue and tie in long ends at the back.
* * *
There is an art in making coffee, and here is an old French recipe which is really delicious. Put into an open saucepan the amount of water needed. Let it come slowly to the boil, lower the flame slightly, and stir in the requisite quantity of fresh ground coffee. Stir first to the left and then to the right with a wooden spoon. As the liquid boils up with a rich brown froth, remove the pan from the stove for a minute and then replace it. Repeat this operation three times, and the coffee is ready. Pour it into a warmed pot, adding a pinch of salt, and a dash of cold water to settle the grounds. It will be found hard to improve this simple method for making deliciously fragrant coffee.
A party of girls from the Head Office of the Railway Department recently spent a pleasant week-end at the Chateau Tongariro, National Park. Leaving Wellington by the 2 p.m. Express on Friday last, the party found, on arrival, that members of the Ruapehu Ski Club were completing their annual sports, which have been held during the last fortnight at National Park. Including many overseas visitors, there were, in all, about 200 guests at the Chateau. The fact that the “Daylight Limited” Express has now commenced running (providing travellers with day travel through the famous central North Island region) should serve further to popularise week-end visits to National Park.
* * *
The wisdom from the health standpoint of eating wholemeal bread is now very generally recognised. The presence of the outer parts of the wheat grain yield valuable roughage as well as increased proportion of mineral salts and other advantages. Wholemeal flour can also be used successfully for making pastry, pies, puddings, scones, and cakes.
“Tickets, please!”
The carriage door opens and the guard sounds his ringing warning. You rouse yourself and start the search for that vital piece of pasteboard. You at length turn out your pockets, unbutton your coat, and delve into your waistcoat. The guard moves nearer and the snip-snip of his clippers becomes louder. You turn to your overcoat pockets and then dip into your luggage, with growing annoyance.
The guard is standing right by you now. Grim and silent he waits patiently. You continue your frantic search, growing a little red in the face. Good heavens! To look at him anyone would think the guard suspected you didn't have a ticket and were trying to get the better of the Railways Department. You mumble some reassuring sentences, and go through the same pockets again.
You wonder if the guard will shortly lose his patience. You know he has supreme power. If you fail to produce your ticket he might stop the train and put you off unceremoniously somewhere in the great, open spaces among the rudely staring cows. Or he might even set you shovelling coal in the engine cab, as a stowaway at sea is forced to work his passage.
Ah! At last. Your fingers, probing each pocket, fasten on a slip of cardboard. With a gasp of relief you hand it over. But what is this? The guard hands back the card with a hollow, fiendish laugh.
“That's no good,” he says, with chilling finality.
And, really you must admit it is not much good, because as you stare at it dazedly you see it is only a cigarette card showing a teddy bear and a dog sitting together, and beneath the picture is the inscription: “There was a little man and he wooed a little maid.”
Very charming, of course, but with renewed vigour you plunge again into your pockets.
“Here we are,” says the guard, with a laugh, as he locates the elusive ticket in the band of your hat. Snip go his clippers. You are safe, but as the door slams on him you reflect that the places we choose as the safest are not the easiest to remember. And you have cause, too, to brood on the fact that a railway ticket is a tremendous trifle.
What does that ticket signify? That you have paid your fare as an honest citizen and have no intention of travelling under the seat. Certainly. But it is a symbol of much more. It calls up the whole romantic story of the growth of steam transport in the world. It takes us back more than one hundred years to that mighty moment when George Stephenson, the boy, idly watching the steam rattling the lid
In the history of transport a new era has opened. Soon there is a stir in countries abroad, and in the East as in the West, the flame of railway transport bursts forth anew, amid a babble of strange tongues. In those following years George Stephenson would have stood dumbfounded at the sight of the bonfire he had lighted on that September day of 1825.
That is the stirring story told us by the little ticket we can buy at any railway station in New Zealand. It is a tremendous trifle.
These tickets are manufactured by the million in Wellington—at the rate of almost ten million per annum. Each year's output weighs ten tons, and would make a pile just on five miles high. If placed lengthwise, end on end, they would extend to a distance of over 350 miles!
I visited the Government Printing Office in Wellington where the tickets are printed. The coloured cards, cut to size, are obtained through the High Commissioner in London, under contract. The Railway Ticket Printer has a staff of seven, all of whom are solely occupied in the printing and despatch of railway tickets. The names of all stations and the matter on standard tickets are electro-typed, so that the setting up of the bulk of the tickets is a very simple operation. The type is contained in large open racks, and gleam like dull gold in a Monte Cristo treasure cave. The necessary lines are picked out from the racks, placed in a small frame, screwed up, and placed in position in the printing machine.
There are four printing machines, all electrically driven. In addition, they automatically number and perforate the tickets if such is required, performing this in one operation. The machines are 100 per cent. accurate. They spit out the tickets like a maxim gun at the rate of 10,000 an hour. The separate punching machines are even faster, having an output of approximately 15,000 an hour. They perforate two clean holes for binding the tickets with copper wire. Then there is the automatic counting machine, which registers the number of the tickets with equal rapidity and exclusive of error.
Stations keep six months’ stock of tickets, and obtain further batches from supplies on hand, or new ones are printed. Out of date tickets, after being checked, are burnt in the city destructor.
As one example of the efficiency of the Department, on an occasion when Dick Arnst was world's champion oarsman, an urgent order was received in Wellington for five hundred tickets for use at Blenheim the following morning. The telegram was received at the office of the Chief Accountant at 10.30 a.m., and the tickets were printed and registered at the G.P.O. at 11 a.m.
Trifling—that little ticket you hold—but tremendous!
The reinstatement of the “Daylight Limited”—an express connecting Auckland and Wellington—has a special significance for South Island people who are interested in cutting down the time that has hitherto been occupied in visiting the North Island. The effect of this new service, which is to be continued for the next six months, may be indicated by a simple illustration. A Christchurch business man may now travel as far as Palmerston North, spend three or four hours there, and yet be back in Christchurch after an absence of only one day, thanks to the readjustment of express timetables in the North Island. We refer to this matter not so much to give the Railway Department a well deserved pat on the back as to emphasise the very great advantages of the railway system as far as longdistance travelling is concerned.—From the Christchurch Star.
It was the young barrister's first case and he was bubbling over with pride and enthusiasm as he stood in Court.
“Now,” said he, addressing the defendant, “you say you came from Auckland to Wellington merely to look for work? I put it to you there was another, a stronger, motive that brought you all this distance?”
“Well,” hesitated the defendant, “there was—” “Ah!” cried the barrister, triumphantly. “And what was it?” “A locomotive.”
* * *
Teacher: “What do they call the instrument the French use for beheading people?”
Bobby: “The Gillette, I think.”
* * *
The number of stations in New Zealand bearing Maori names makes the lot of the booking clerk rather trying until he gets to know his New Zealand thoroughly. Recently a Maori lady walked up to the ticket window at Taumarunui and said to the bright-faced eager cadet, “Ticket for Hinemoa, please.” The young fellow, fresh from the training school and new to the locality, was fairly stumped, and, after a lightning dart through the “Locality Index,” owned up.
“Where's Hinemoa?” he said.
“This Hinemoa,” smilingly replied the wife of Hori, “this piccaninny, sitting right over here on this suit-case.”
Mother: “Who taught you to use those naughty words, Jackie?”
Jackie: “Santa Claus, mother.”
Mother: “Santa Claus?”
Jackie: “Yes'm, when he fell over the chair in my room on Christmas Eve.”
* * *
Father: “How many miles to a gallon?”
Mother: “What colour is the upholstery?”
Son: “How fast will she go?”
Daughter: “Has it a cigarette lighter?”
Neighbour: “How can they afford it?”
* * *
A man who had been waiting patiently in the post office could not attract the attention of either of the girls behind the counter. “The evening cloak,” explained one of the girls to her companion, “was a redingote design in gorgeous silver lame brocade, with fox fur and wide pagoda sleeves.”
At this point the long-suffering customer broke in with: “I wonder if you could provide me with a neat brown stamp with a dinky perforated hem, the tout ensemble delicately treated on the reverse with gum-arabic? Something about one penny?”
* * *
Wedding Guest: “This is your fourth daughter to get married, isn't it?”
MacTight: “Ay, and our confetti's gettin’ awfu’ gritty.”
Ansell, F., to draftsman, Gr. 7, Chief Mechanical Engineer's Office, Wellington.
Askew, R. C. H., to draftsman, Gr. 7, Chief Mechanical Engineer's Office, Wellington.
Barltrop, S. B., to draftsman, Gr. 6, Hutt.
Couchman, F. W., to blacksmith shop foreman, Gr. 5, Hillside.
Hayman, L., to booking and parcels clerk, Gr. 6, Greymouth.
Marriott, J. A., to clerk, Gr. 7, Shannon.
McLeod, W., to stores shipper, Gr. 4, Wellington.
Sykes, L. J., to clerk, Gr. 6, Napier.
Taylor, H. B., to senior clerk, Gr. 5, Taumarunui.
Trewern, F. D., to sub-foreman, Gr. 6, Hutt.
Ward, N. M. G., to technical clerk, Gr. 7, Chief Mechanical Engineer's Office, Wellington.
Weir, M. J. R., to sub-foreman, Gr. 6, Addington.
Shunter to Guard.
Filmer, P. C. W., to Te Kuiti.
Porter to Shunter.
Carter, R., to Taumarunui.
Skilled Labourers to Iron Machinists.
Chick, J. B., to Gr. 2, Addington.
Page, B. J., to Gr. 2, Hutt.
Strikers to Helpers.
Harlen, T. A., to Hutt.
Matson, R. L. to Hutt.
Minihan, P. J., to Hutt.
McGrath, J., to Hutt.
Striker to Furnaceman.
Mooney, H., to Hutt.
Holder-up to Furnaceman.
Stephenson, W. M., to Hutt.
Skilled Labourers to Electric Overhead Crane Operators.
Barnes, F., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Crawford, G. W., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Gilchrist, D. J., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Hurd, A. J. W., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Magon, H. J., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
McLeod, A., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Ryan, T. P., to Gr. 2, Hillside.
Labourers to Strikers.
Caldwell, J., to Gr. 2, Westport.
Forrest, J. H., to Gr. 2, Addington.
Labourer to Skilled Labourer.
Marslin, W. J., to Hillside.
Coalman to Train Examiner.
Dennison, J. S., to Gr. 1, Cromwell.
Surfacemen to Gangers.
Green, W. R., to Gr. 2, Waimangaroa.
Hickey, J., to Gr. 2, Cragieburn.
Our special London correspondent's review of the famous Rainhill trials, printed in another part of this issue, calls to mind the controversy that raged at the time concerning the merits of “The Rocket” and its competitors. One interesting letter in that controversy was written by a qualified eye-witness of the trials, John Dixon, the engineer who carried out George Stephenson's plan for the crossing of Chatmoss. He wrote, on 16th October, 1829, to his brother James as follows:—
“We have finished the grand experiments on the Engines, and G.S. or R.S. has come off triumphant, and of course will take hold of the £500 so liberally offered by the Company, none of the others being able to come near them. ‘The Rocket’ is by far the best engine I have ever seen for Blood and Bone united.
“Timothy (Hackworth) has been very sadly out of temper ever since he came … nothing our men did for him was right … he openly accused all G.S.'s people of conspiring to hinder him, of which I do believe them innocent; however he got many trials but never got half of his seventy miles done without stopping. She burns nearly double the quantity of coke the Rocket does, and rumbles and roars and rolls about like an empty Beer Butt on a rough pavement … and as for being on springs, I cannot find them out … she is very ugly…. The London engine … called ‘The Novelty,’ was a very light one, no chimney upright, but a boiler blown by a blast by bellows … all covered with copper, like a new Tea Urn which tended to give her a very parlour-like appearance, and when she started she seemed to dart away like a greyhound for a bit, but every time he had some mishap … so that it was no go…. Vox Populi was in favour of London from appearances, but we showed them the way to do it, for Messrs. Rastrick and Walker, in their report, stated that the whole power of the Loco. Engines would be absorbed in taking their own bodies up Rainhill incline, 1 in 96, consequently they could take no load; now the first thing Old George did was to bring a coach with about 20 people up at a gallop and ever since has run up and down to let them see what they could do up such an ascent, and has taken 40 folks up at 20 miles an hour.”
The return journey between London and Paris has now been shortened by one hour—twenty minutes out and forty minutes back—by the famous Golden Arrow train and ship routes. The trains are the last word in comfort.