FOR THE GIRLS.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 192, 15 August 1931, Page 2 (Supplement)

FOR THE GIRLS.

an old button. TIME'S CURTAIN LIFTS. My Dear Girlsi It lies before me as I write, an old brass button, battered, dented and tarnished; yet the raised figures 65 stand out distinctly. Time was when the number 65 was a magic number to every boy and girTin the cradle days of our city, oh, so many years ago, when a was a cay garrison towa and intensely military. The roll of £e C drums, the call of the bugles, the music of the fifes of the splendid band of the 65th Regiment, known as the Bengal Tigers, wa s a sound never forgotten, so the sadly few remaming old colonists will tell y<Ml with kindling eyes. When they marched out of the(Albert Barracks, in their scarlet coats and gold lace, on their way to old St. Pauls Church, playing patriotic and stirring airs, it was a sight and sound to set every child in the town running. There has been much of interest lately in the papers of old Auckland. lam sure many of you have read about old St. Paul's ninetieth anniversary. Happily we are slowly acquiring a history. I n ten years Auckland will celeorate its one hundredth birthday. Then shall we be proud to honour the names of the men who helped shape the destiny of this beautiful city. But the old button? Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. This battered regimental button of the 65th Imperial Troops was picked up fairly recently in Albert Park by a friend of mine, who, knowing I have a "good nose" for events connected with the early history of Auckland, gave it to me. I take it in my hand and wish it had the magical qualities of Alf's button—you may remember the film. Suppose I rub it and see what happens? Where will it transport me? Yes! I believe it is setting brighter! The figures stand out more clearly. There! lam in the old Albert Barracks above the town. There is bustle and excitement; young bearded men are running hither and thither. Good-bye to inaction. Our volunteer force is ordered out to take its place in the field beside Her Majesty's troops. The native foe is becoming insolent. Settlers living quietly on their own lands in the Waikato are being driven away, their property plundered. Their wives and children are living in terror. The foe is assembled in armed bands and threatening to ravage the town of Auckland and murder peaceable citizens. Peace and order must be maintained. Crowds of citizens are gathered in the barracks to give the boys farewell. Fathers press the hands of sons; mothers, weeping, clasp their sons in a last fond embrace —mere lads some of them, sixteen at most. Darling girls in poke bonnets and crinoline frocks strive bravely to keep back the tears as they kiss their sweethearts good-bye. Ah! Time is slipping by too quickly! Too quickly! Bugles are sounding the fall in. The command is given: "Fours right, quick march!" The 65th strike up "The Girl I Left Behind Me." The sentry at the gate presents arms. The companies march out, colours flying, a river of living scarlet, followed by a surging, cheering ' crowd. Thus I saw them" go, the gallant boys of long ago, who made and kept New Zealand safe » for us. The button lies dim. and tarnished in my palm, but for a moment time's curtain rolled back- l.\#9 ward and there lived again a gallant deed of f Auckland's past.