THIS PASSING SHOW

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 7914, 25 September 1911, Page 11

THIS PASSING SHOW

Some Utlo talk awhile of mo and thee There was—and then no more of thee and me. —Omar Khayyam. .After all the magnificent ceremonial of his installation as Knight of the Garter and the imposing Old World cercsrnomes at Carnarvoni, Castle it is pleasant to read of simpler days for our ybutihful Frinco of Wales. He looked so young, so boyish to play tho man. in such exacting ceremonial! One cannot help guessing that his appointment as a midshipman to H.M.S. Hindustan must ha to been to him very welcome. Hie Hindustan, is a fine battleship of 1G.350 tons, and is in the Horae fleet. In her the Prince of Wales begins his period of active service with his country's fleet, not as a prince, but a middy, as his father dad before him. Ho will take his meals in the gunroom, sling his hammock in tho steerage, and be expected to obey “in silence and at a run." Hie VriH be expected to knowall the seamen in his division by their Christian names, stand his watch as senior officer's cadet, and will write up tho log together with all the routine of his fellow middies. When, tho Rothesay people asked permission to entertain the prince when the Home fleet vimts the Clyde they were officially informed that such a thing was obviously inrpossabjlo, as his Royal Highness would, on board the Hindustan, be considered only as an officer of the navy-

X am sorry, very sorry, for the people who might have set in those rows aud rows of empty chairs at LfConard Harwich's pianoforte recital on Saturday evening! What they missed! What a store of memories, what a realisation ot all that piano-playing can be, what revival of faith in an art that to tho suburban dweller or the residential street householder has long become anathema. That gentle, unassuming magician—sitting for a lew seconds in perfect repose before the long key-board from which he should presently work white magic—what an undying joy ho gave to the audience who grudged oven the rustic of a programme lest it break the spell. How they applauded ! Appreciation enthusiastic aud entire spoke in the thunderous wave which brought Mr Berwick to bow his thanks again and again. Ido not know if Chopin is his favourite composer, but I shall never forget his interpretation of that "Singer Divine, of the unending sadness." The remembrance of the "Ballade in A flat" is an experience to treasure, and I am not alone in thinking that the "Nocturne in G" was the perfect interpretation of regret, penetrated by As to Beethoven's moonlight sonata, X would tram, from here to Seatoun in a howling southerly sooner than have Berwick's rendering dimmed by hearing it from other hands. „ —ZBAIANDIA.