FINISHED.

Otago Witness, Issue 3764, 4 May 1926, Page 25

FINISHED.

SCENES INSIDE AND OUT. As far as the weather was concerned closing day was a disappointment—but in every other sense it was a triumph. From the time the gates were thrown open at half-past 8 in the morning the people commenced to file through the clicking turnstiles, and once inside the gates the weather could do what it liked as far as they were concerned. After all, it could not stop the Exhibition from closing, and as close it must, it behoved everyone to take full advantage of the last opportunity that offered to make merry in the national playground. As the day wore on it became increasingly obvious that nobody cared a scrap about the weather, and the only recognition of the prevailing eruditions was the universal wearing of overcoats. It was a wonderful crowd. Dunedin had never seen the like before—never; and. indeed, it is probable that never anywhere in New Zealand had such a multitude assembled before. Even in the early afternoon every pavilion was blocked with heaving humanity, whose apology for trodden toes was a good-natured grin. And all the time the misty drizzle slid silently down from the waterv leaden sky. But it was not noticed. Boots lost their lustre, and outside in the Grand Court they collected a heavy coat of Logan Park mud. People splashed through isolated pools of thick water with all the eclat of u haopv pilgrim mounting the golden stairs. “Eat. drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.” and the rain could rain till Logan Park was a lake again as long as the Exhibition closed with all the honours that were due to it. In the Amusements Park vitality was at its zenith. Trains of young men burst gaily through the crowds, ever and anon a long, sinuous paper streamer would reach forth and coil round a girl’s neck, and everywhere could be seen blithesome figures in strange pauer hats that were the badge of carnival—a merrily sad farwell. There was no niggardliness in that crowd. Everyone was there to spend and to spend freely, to have one last glorious fling, even if it meant rigid economy until next pay day. Even the change was iiot counted. That may seem an exaggeration in Dunedin, but nevertheless it was true in many cases. Money was no object until it was all gone. Every amusement device was rushed as it had never been Tushed before, and lone queues of people patiently waited their turn to be borne up into the heights and to be plunged into the abyss and so on as is the habit of the scenic railway. The Merry Mix-up swung joyously, and the Whip roared forth its song, while the giant in from of the run Factory seemed to wink nore solemnly than was his wont. His knell had sounded. . People who had visited the Exhibition time and again looked more lingeringiy this timo at every exhibit, as if trying to convince themselves that the time was really at hand when they would no longer be permitted to push their way. through those turnstiles, and that those noble pavilions were really to be dismantled, oomehow, closing day had not been given much thought before. And some there were who had not seen the wonderland before, and they mode every effort to see and to try everything before the night should have sped. Their efforts were necessarily futile in that crowd. Later in the evening the crowd outside the bandstand swelled into a great multitude. and the old airs and selection! that we learned to love so well during those six months had a sad significance to most. The end was drawing nigh. The wonderful “1C12” overtitre was played for the last time to a Dunedin audience, and vociferous

requests for the popular compositions of Ken. J. Alford were granted to a clamorous crowd. And now and again there was jazz- Even "Show Me 'lhe Way to Go Home” was included, and people forgot the chill of the night and the clamminess of the drizzle that filtered through the rays of the floodlights like eerily moving shadows. They had fallen to the old sped of good music. Then, as night retreated to the advance of morning, the band struck up "Abide With Me,” and Mr Rickett* turned to the crowd, which joined in with one voice. And as the music ceased Dunedin forgot itself and cheered and cheered to the echo The band could not go away. The crowd would not have it, and the Highlanders had perforce to sit down and play some more But eventually, despite all opposition, they rose to their feet and the National Antbem pealed out like a grand hymn, in which the crowd took a part. That was all in the meantime. Away on the roof lops a solitary oornetist played "The End of a Perfect Day,” and his effort was acknowledged with cheers from below But the end had not come. A host of students, clad in strange regalia that was not the garb of old Gaul, invaded the bandstand, and, led by Bandsman "Bill” Adams, of the 93rd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, they treated the crowd, which was by no means ready to leave, to a parody of the band. Tin whistles shrieked out, and ‘‘Highland dances” were per petrated, and altogether it was jolly good, fun. Bandsman Adams gave his famous rendering of "The Lonely Hoad” in that •ligh falsetto voice which he used in "Dunedin.” Afterward? the St. Kilda Band entered the stand, and as a compliment to the 93rd Highlander? played "For they are jolly good fellows.” while Mr Ricketts was chaired round the ground. Not till then did the crowd commence to file awav. As they left, the light? of the Festival Hall dome flashed ■'on and off. and danced fanastically in the night. Somebody was having a game with the switches. And so it all ended. The last visitor made his reluctant, exit., and the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition was finished.