(By Our Special Correspondent.)

On Saturday last "Smad" mingled with a large and tolerant audience gathered in the Concert Chamber of the Town Hall to hear eight speeches by competitors in the 29th annual contest for Lord Plunket's [unclear: dedal]. Just as our well-concealed impatience began to manifest itself, the speakers field swiftly and silently into the front row, and the three judges, Mr. H. F. O'Leary, K.C., Rabbi S. Katz, and Mr. G. W. von Zedlitz, settled into their easy chairs, Although for a tense moment it appeared that Von was going to miss the chairman's opening remarks. All these gentlemen have had some experience in judging speech contests, and from such a concatenation of earning, piety and wit we expected an entertaining judgment, at the east. They did not fail us.

The chairman, Mr. C. M. P. Brown, ran through the contents of the programme, explained the qualifications of the judges, and summoned the competitors in turn to the platform.

Only £250,000.

The disadvantageous lot of speaking first fell to Mr. J. N. Sellers, whose subject was Robert Clive. He commenced quietly in a well-balanced voice, remarkably pleasant to listen to, but became almost sepulchral at the end of his longer sentences and as a rule hurried on too quickly to the next. Mr. Sellers treated his hero chivalrously and at times magnaminously, but he was inclined to extenuate his sins rather than vindicate his character. His nearest approach to passion was when he assured us that Clive "took less than a quarter of a million pounds from the treasure-house of Bengal."

That Oratorical Smile.

Mr. D. W. McElwain began his speech with a cryptic reference to a mysterious assembly somewhere in the ether, which was subsequently revealed to be Geneva in 1926. His hero was identified as Gustav Stresemann—a novel and promising choice. Faulty enunciation of consonants, a defect shared by most of the competitors, made Mr. McElwain a little difficult to follow at times, but with this exception he made the most of an unimpressive voice. This speaker will do well when he leaves his oratorical smile at home and learns not to mispronounce simple words like tribunal. He had evidently listened in to the contest of two years ago.

Try Again, Scotney.

John Brown, or the Evils of Slavery, was the topic of a spirited address by Mr. A. H. Scotney, who braved a humorous and not quite successful opening. The reference to the popular song was dragged in by the heels but humour was quickly forgotten as the speaker opened the flood-gates of rhetoric and proceeded to whirl his hero from State to State with bands of fugitive slaves. Notwithstanding several notes of false sentiment, Mr. Scotney succeeded in putting over a comprehensive and convincing sketch of Brown's career and work. He was almost the only speaker to vary the inflexion of his voice, which, however, requires to be kept much more under control, and he should be much less hasty in his diction. I hope he will not be discouraged from further attempts on the coveted medal.

Saint or Devil?

Miss D. Souter next took the platform with an apologetic and some-what sceptical vindication of the Maori rebel, Te Kooti. Hers is a naturally good voice, and much more could be made of it than was apparent on Saturday night. Pronunciation and enunciation alike displayed grave faults, and Miss Souter suffered from the aggressiveness of a band in the next hall (or was it a loud-speaker?), which at times gave her speech the flavour of a musical monologue. If Miss Souter chooses to speak on a man or woman deserving of her unstinted admiration, instead of a "colourful figuah," she will be heard to more advantage.

The Man's the Gowd.

After several courses of semi-digestible fare, lighter refreshment was provided by Mr. A. T. S. McGhie, with an ingenious character-study of Robert Burns. Towards the end of a long and rather laboured introduction, it dawned upon a delighted audience that Mr. McGhie had affected a Gaelic accent to lend verisimilitude to his extensive quotations from the Scots bard. He waxed lyrical, and we half expected him to burst into the strains of "Afton Water," but he sped from one stanza to another, speaking too fast at times, and with occasional lapses into his native New Zealand tongue. It is to the speaker's credit that he sustained the interest of the audience from shortly after beginning to where the Phoenix—evidently a male descendant of the mythological bird—rose from "his" ashes, and Mr. McGhie resumed his seat, leaving his very useful notes with the chairman. In a straight part, as actors put it, Mr. McGhie may some day bring home the bacon.

Fluent but Didactic.

Mr. C. A. Griffiths showed commendable courage in tackling the contest early in his debating career. His account of Pericles was carefully prepared and well put together, but his sentences were far too long and his style, although fluent, tended to become didactic, especially with his frequent use of the admonitory "now." The expressionless mezzopiano tones in which the speech was delivered did not render it as convincing as it might have been if infused with some of the warmth and colour of debate. Nevertheless Mr. Griffiths may be expected to do well in future contests.

An Irish Cavalcade.

The second woman speaker was Miss M. Shortall, who exhibited to us an Irish Cavalcade, introducing Michael Collins. Miss Shortall wasted no time in showing why her hero was to be admired and mercifully spared us the grim details that too often seem to be considered essential to such a subject. She forbore from decorating her delivery with the studied brogue which an Irish subject usually calls forth at Plunket Medal time, and might also have dispensed with a slight acidity of tone that tended to spoil her effective sentences. Her place as third speaker was well deserved.

A King Indeed!

Mr. K. Tahiwi wound up the oratorical portion of the programme with a valiant attempt to restore Henry VIII to the position from which popular history and Charles Laughton have displaced him. (How the films are always with us nowadays.) He did not give us the whole Henry, but he gave us the better side of him without unduly distorting history. The speech was lucid, convincing in its polemic matter, and cleverly avoided the pitfalls of bathos which might have ensnared an inexperienced speaker. Mr. Tahiwi again failed to reach the climax just around the corner, but has got away from his staccato delivery, although not, alas, his staccato gestures.

While the three wise men retired to pick the winner, Messrs. Jack and Hatherley played to us tunefully on the violin, and Mr. Sutherland cajoled a reluctant piano. The judges returned. The new custodian of the Town Hall made easily the most dramatic appearance of the evening, and produced three chairs with astonishing legerdemain. Mr. von Zedlitz put across the same complimentary remarks in an entertainingly novel fashion and, after laying it on pretty thick, disclosed that Mr. Tahiwi had won the medal, with Mr. McGhie second and Miss Shortall third. Loud applause for Mr. Tahiwi indicated a popular decision. After an inconclusive verbal skirmish with Von, Mr. O'Leary handed his own medal to the winner, amidst more applause. Rabbi Katz looked benign. The National Anthem was rendered and the audience adjourned to the Motor Olympia next door.

Well done Kingi Tahiwi!

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