UNDER THE GREENWQOD tREE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIV, Issue 127, 25 November 1907, Page 3

UNDER THE GREENWQOD tREE.

SUITDAY AFTERNOON IK THE GARDENS. . Up Jlie gentle slope of- Tinakori-road came the cars, ond' alter another, heavily laden indued, but humming pleasantly as if conscious. of the beauty of the afternoon and happy to transport their masters, the people, from - the weary wilderness of, streets to the soothing oasis of tho Botanical Gardens. At> tho gales" flic - cars stopped and discharged their human freight; then, when chanco. offered, stole almost empty away. The crowd was unusually largo even for .a fine Sunday afternoon. .If many descended from tho succession of cars, more came afoot.- The long vista of the road, dipping down to the harbour, was animated by the approaching figures arid coloured by' the radiance of summer costumes. Xo hurry, no worry, not the workaday bustle of the thronged thoroughfare, but a movement>apprbpriate to the day, marked the scene. Inside the gates stood sailers in their Sunday clothes, holding a flag which sagged in the centre under a weight of coin. Bandsmen, in uniform, .moved alon<* the drive. These figures explained the congregating crowds.. The* Garrison Band was to play during the after- [ noon for. the first time" in the new rotunda and the shipwrecked sailors were reaping the ; benefit of this attraction through the voluntary contributions of i visitors in aid of' sufferers from tho [ perils of the sea. " Under the pines on the grassy banks j and eloping greensward about tlTc roi tunda, some standing, some sitting, but [most reclining, the throng fonnod an ■ expectant audience. With tho thrushes and blackbiids ringing iv the trees above, thero was already woodland music, yet, when the opening bais of Schrammoi's "Weiu, Bliobt Wein" flooded the glade with mellow roles, every sound occmed to blend in harmony with tho scene. It was almost as il tho listeners wore a .''flight of birds suddenly drawn to the spot to hold sweet conclave. The gay figures, in all the array of summer, as they sat on the ground, seemed like swans folding their wings and displaying their plumage in rest ; only in tho real bird-world it is the male that sports the fine feathers. ' Meanwhile the audience increased. Figures, recumbent or sitting, decked the sloping lawn like embroidery on a green carpet. Children trotted among the maze of outstretched limbs. Like the reek from a campfire, tobacco smoke curled upwards in wreaths to tho blue sky. The band struck up a lively intermezzo, Hume's "Yo Merry Monarch," and here and there .were seen feet lazily moving in time to the music. Then came a delightfully long selection from Bellini, appealing fo almost every mood ; the grave, the gay, tho sprightly, and melancholyi Such afternoons as that of yesterday in the Botanical Gardens are far too rare in the City of •Wellington. How seldom, indeed., is found such a harmony of circumstances— beauty of weather, beauty of scene, hrauly of ! music? Would' that the music uf the I band were heard of tcner !