Te Karere . ry fortnight, first in Maori and thenin English. As Te Karere beinginterpreted is The Messenger, it wasfinally to call it Te Karere—and whata karere it has been to the missionduring all these 48 years ! In closing I wish to pay tribute totwo of my life-time friends, one withwhom I attended school at the in Salt Lake City. Theother, an old missionary companionwho laboured with me here in NewZealand and later returned home to-gether via London. They are SidneyChristy, Nuhaka, , who died July,1955, and Nathaniel Garn, Fielding,Utah, who died June, 1955. Hoatu ra e
Te Karere . ry fortnight, first in Maori and thenin English. As Te Karere beinginterpreted is The Messenger, it wasfinally to call it Te Karere—and whata karere it has been to the missionduring all these 48 years ! In closing I wish to pay tribute totwo of my life-time friends, one withwhom I attended school at the in Salt Lake City. Theother, an old missionary companionwho laboured with me here in NewZealand and later returned home to-gether via London. They are SidneyChristy, Nuhaka, , who died July,1955, and Nathaniel Garn, Fielding,Utah, who died June, 1955. Hoatu ra ehoa ma ki te kainga tuturu. True glory lies in noble deeds.—Cicero. Life is a measure to be filled—not a cup to be drained. Years wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. It is better to err on the side of initiative than inactivity.—B. C. Forbes. Women driver: A person who, when obeying every rule, is blamed for slowingdown some man who isnt. 388 TE KARERE By SISTER ARTA BALLIF. IT is Christmas time. Are you busywith things to do and so befuddledyou dont know what to do first? Thenmaybe you feel like the lady in thislittle jingle by Leroy Jackson: Duckle, duckle, daisy Martha must be crazy, She went a)id made a Christmas cake Of olive oil and gluten-flake, And put it in the sink to bake, Duckle, duckle, daisy. If you are all in a muddle withthings to do for Christmas you mayas well have something nice to thinkabout while you get yourself un-muddled. Here is a poem about thelittlest angel. Elsie Binns is theauthor. The smallest angel saw them go—Stepping, dignified and slowDown the shining golden stair,Through the frosty midnight not! Fear not! To you we bringTidings of a new-born and seraphimChanted thus their Christinas smallest angel saw them go—Stepping, dignified and slowThen, down the shining banisterHe slid with tiny wings a-iehir, Doivn to where the Baby lay Snug and warm in fragrant not! he whis
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