THE KING’S VOICE

Manawatu Standard, Volume L, Issue 114, 10 April 1930, Page 8

THE KING’S VOICE

“COME. INTO OUR MIDST." Pamela opened the front door to greet me before I was halfway up the steps. She was looking a little distressed. “I’ve just learned,’’ she said, “that the Russell’s radio is out of order." “That is too bad,” I replied, hanging my raincoat over the back of a chair, and then added, “I’ve no doubt it can. be repaired.” Pamela’s tone (writes “G.C.” in the Christian Science Monitor, of February 7) was almost reproachful. “Have you forgotten,” she said, “that King George is going to talk to us to-nightr 1 It seems that the Russell© ought to hear him. Thev’ro English, you know.” There was silence for a few minutes. Pamela was evidently planning something. Presently she spoke. “Let’© have a party,” she said. “We will ask the Russells to come and listen in with us.”

“Do you realise,” said I, “that the King’s speech will come over the radio between 2. and 3 a.m.? Do you propose to drag people from their beds at that untimely hour to come to a party?” The fact that Pamela called the Russells on tho telephone a few minutes later would seem to indicate my arguments against this sudden plan were not convincing. Also, the further fact that the Russells responded so readily made me admit that the idea was a good one—for them. “The whole family are coming,” Pamela announced, and then, “I must, make some cakes.” “I will go- and see to the furnace,” said I, “and we must have a blazing fire in the living room. It gets quite chilly around 2 or 3 in the morning. We decided to snatch a few hours of rest. I set the alarm clock for a quarter to 2 and optimistically determined to make the most of those few hours. So far as I am concerned, it would have been more restful to go for a walk, for 1 wakened every fifteen minutes or so in half-conscious anticipation of that strident bell. _ It has been said that I was once discovered sound asleep on the floor, with the alarm clock rolled in the blankets beneath me in an apparent attempt to smother its stridence several hours before it was timed to explode. However, we were wide awake and ready to welcome our friends by the time they arrived. We gathered round the fire laughing a little. Outside the rain beat softly against the windows, and the eucalyptus trees stood like slender wraiths veiled in the gray mist that had crept in from the Pacific Ocean. With the exception of our house, not a light was showing in the street. The firelight played prettily on Pamela’© oldfashioned cream pitcher, and the same glow fell upon the cups and saucers laid in readiness for our guests. “Isn’t this cozy?” said someone. “Just like a late November afternoon in London.” , I went over to the radio and began to finger the dials. A band playing jazz music—a voice droning out some advertising matter. “Nothing yet,” 1 Baid ' , ±l. “You are quite sure you nave tne right station ?” came an anxious inquiry. “You know,” said one of our guests. “I’ve never heard him speak.” And nobody asked whom she meant, for each one of us was thinking of the King 6000 miles away. As it happened, not one among us knew the sound of his voice, but most of ns had seen him at some time or another. “I saw him the day he was crowned,” ' said Pamela. “My brother and I determined to see something of the procession, even if we could get no farther than to the outside of the crowd. We went ns far as Westminster Bridge, I remember, and walked across, only to find ourselves confronted by a barricade, a high wooden screen erected to keep out all but the privileged ticket holders. It was so disappointing. We stood there not knowing what to do next. Then we heard a band in the distance and realised that the King and Queen were leaving the Abbey. It was too tantalising, for we knew that they would soon be passing within ft few yards of where we wero standing. “At this moment a gust of wind carried my broad-brimmed hat from my head to the feet of a policeman who stood on guard at the only opening in that unkind barrier. As he picked it up he saw me standing there. •Come along, Missy,’ he smiled, giving me my hat. ‘You’ll never see ihe King if you don’t hurry. And with that he literally put me through the aperture. My brother followed without waiting to bo told. We saw the whole wonderful pageant with the King and Queen riding in their State couen with all tlieir regalia. It was like a fairy story come true. 1 have never forgotten it.” I was Btill playing with the dials of tho radio. As Pamela finished speaking we heard the strains of “Rule ilrittannia” coming through. Then the music changed to “God Save the King,” and wo all rose with one accord and stood silently to the end. Some of the younger ones among us have learned to sing other words to that same tune, but whether the words which came to us were of the Old World or the New it mattered not, for each one realised we were on the threshold of a day radiant with the promise of an even closer bond between the nations. , , . , The music ceased. We looked at the clock—3 a.m. Pacific time. We heard a voice announcing, “In a few moments you will be taken to the House of Lords, Westminster, Loudon.” Then a sound like heavy seas pounding. “Just to remind us, someone remarked, “that the Atlantic still lies betweon us and England. There seemed to be a great deal of static. Surely we were not going to be disappointed after all. “Do you remember,” 1 said, how we used to wait patiently lor hours just to catch a glimpse of him? It did not seem necessary to say that 1 was thinking of the King. Vi^ now we are waiting for Iris voice. Then someone else spoke, "I remember ” he said,. “when lie was visitwig tho colonies. He was Prince of Wales then. I was in Wellington, New Zealand. Many had waited all night in the pouring rain to 6ee him pass. When at last the great moment came the quaint figure of a little old woman burst through the crowd. lire feathers on her hat were wet and bedraggled. Ram dripped from the brim and ran trickling dowmher face and mingled with the tears that were falling from her eyes. ‘There he is! she* cried, pushing lier way to the front, and though her tears .were flowing, her face shone with happiness. ‘There’s our own Prince, God bless him I’ And I think we 'all felt the Sa For W somo' minutes nothing had been coming over the radio but discordant noises, then all at once it cleared and we were aware that the King s voice was coming through; coming through despite the stormy elements, coming over 6000 miles of land and sea. . It seemed na he had come into our midst and stood among us as ft friend talking intimately, and wo felt we had known him always.