Children of William and Ann Beck 

NEW PLYMOUTH.—16th August, 1916, that he may be compelled to maintain his child, Leonard James Beck, aged about thirty-three, height 5 ft. 9 in., labourer, native of New Zealand, strong build, dark complexion, dark-brown hair, grey eyes. Inquiry by the Hospital and Charitable Aid Board.

INTER-SCHOOL MATCH.

A match was played on the race-course yesterday afternoon between teams representing Standards V. and VI. of the Lytton-street and the Manchester-street schools, resulting in a win for Lytton-street by 12 points to 3. For the victors, George Beck scored a try and kicked a penalty goal [ . . . ]

A LETTER FROM A FEILDING MAN

In a letter received this week from Rifleman Joseph Marston, dated from "Somewhere in France, Feb. 7.," he says: "We have just finished 20 days in the trenches, and are now training for the next round. A terrible clash is coming shortly and—we'll be in it. The next six months is going to see the knock-out blow.

"I am receiving the STAR regularly. You have no idea how the Feilding boys devour every line. I saw George Beck the other day when we were up in the trenches. He blew in to the cookhouse. He's looking well on it. [ . . . ]

IN MEMORY OF A FALLEN COMRADE.

IMPRESSIVE CEREMONY AT EASTOWN RAILWAY WORKSHOPS

At 9 o'clock on Thursday morning the employees of the Eastown workshops assembled round the flagstaff to pay their last respects to their late fellow shopmate, late Private George Beck, who gave his life for his King and country.

Mr. J. Donaldson, leading carpenter, acted as spokesman and delivered the following eulogy:—

Fellow-workers.—Once again the war has claimed all that a soldier can give, and we are assembled to pay a small tribute to the memory of another of our shopmates, Private George Beck of the 15th Reinforcements, who has served his country to his uttermost, and laid down his life for you and I, so that the future years of our race will be a time of peace. [ . . . ] Here was a young man for whom life held all its endearments; the future was a rose-strewn path, and now it is ended. He has trod the path of duty. His cheery laugh, as we remember it, is silenced, and this place which knew him for nearly eight years will know him no more; but his memory will live in the records of this young and gallant country, and when the name and fame of the British is named we shall see his image through the mist of sorrow. [ . . . ]