A Song of Gratitude. (For the Lance.)

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 147, 25 April 1903, Page 21

A Song of Gratitude. (For the Lance.)

I sing a song of Muratai Whose pleasant sandy soil, Doth be across our harbour blue, Far from the City's toil , With red-roof'd homes and gardens fair, And most cerulean skies, And shady bits of bush w hereon To rest your tired eyes. 'Twas on that Easter Saturday, When shone fclie sun on high, Three weary maidens trod the road That leads to Muntai. They left the gay Pavilion, with Its rather mixed-up rout And passed through little Rona Bay. Wherei tennis-players shout-. The day grew hot, and so did they And greatly longed for rest , But thoughts of lunch were in thenheads., So trudged they for the best. They passed a house where two bold youths, Like windmills swung their arms. The girls enioyed the erecting warm, And thought the place had charms. i Alas' they reached the destined spot And found no one at home , They looked in vain for entrance, and Were forced once more to roam. They reached the -store of Mistress Jones, And in its sheltered door. Stood one more youth, and mi his arms He held three loaves or four. The starving maidens looked at him And signs of hunger made , He called an invitation but They kinder felt afraid And turned on to the dusty road, But after them he came, And kindly asked them in to lunch. They made excuses — lame. At length they went unto the house, And sat u^on the grass, And saw the wooden stare of them That on the road did pass , But that was nuite a trifle, and The tea was awf'lv good And the brown-eyed boy had cut the bread In just the way he should. After a most delightful time The girls got up to go And took a final farewell Of Chief Superintendent Mo. The other two they met again In sunny Rona Bay, And Russian toffee ate and talked Until they sailed away. The girls were sad on reaching town, They felt such dreadful sights : What was in keeroing with the Bay Looked bad 'neath city lights. The boys were kind, and said that they Did really look alright But mirrors told a different tale, And said "You little frights." But now it all is over, and We ne'er may see them more But w o look back with Gratitude To Muntai's fair shore ; We say, "Homai te kihi pai," Unto that gallant band Of bachelors who kept their house Upon its shining strand. — Les Grandes Filles.

The box-plan for the production of A. W. Pinero's "The Times" opened at Holliday's yesterday, and already a number of seats have been booked. The Dramatic Students have during the past eight or nine years come forward repeatedly, and given their services far charitable objects, and now, as the funds of the Home for the Aged Needy are somew hat low, they have once more undertaken a three-nights' season for the nurpo.se of strengthening the financial position of the Home. "The Times" was originally performed at Terry's Theatre, in October, 1891, and tihen' ran for a period of two hundred nights Since then it was played by Brough and Boucicault's Company m Sydney some five years ago. • * * The comedy is a four-act one, and is not of the farcical order, but a play of great interest sparkling; with humoui, and replete with well-drawn characters and striking situations. The public already knows something -of the' l talents of Mrs. W. Fell, the Misses Newton, J Newton, A. Maginnity and Kennedy, and Messrs H. E. Nidholls, A. Newton, W. P. Bastin. and J. King, whose names ar© in the cast. Great interest is taken in the coming first dramatic performances of Miss Rebe Richardson (the well-known elocutionist) Miss Nina Burns Mr C B Morison Cthe hamster), and Major Moore "The Times"

has never vet been produced m New Zealand, and tlie careful training the Diamatic Students have undergone, and the charitable object tor which it 1® to be given, should assure success.

What happened to Jones'? Who knows 9 Peihaps 'twas a cold in his nose, Or maybe a cough, which he couldn't shake oft, And denied him the joy of lepose ; Quite likely he both did endme, Which him to his room did immuie, Till a fuend said one day, " duve youi chills all away With Woods' Great Peppermini Cure."

To err is human, wise men say , You surely cannot doubt it , And c'en more human is the way We eiT, and lie about it.