ANOTHER INTERESTING LETTER.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 253, 24 October 1936, Page 2 (Supplement)

ANOTHER INTERESTING LETTER.

IS, Purncll St., Wanganui. Dear Peter Pan, — It's ages and ages since I last wrote. Why, there's been so very many things happening since then that it might almost be a year ago, Peter Pan! It would he rather fun to count up our time by events, wouldn't it? But then, I suppose, moe*! of lis would get tremendously muddled up, and we'd grow as old as Bip Van Winkle before we were even twenty. Oh, holidays are the most exeitingest of things. Indeed, there's scarcely a minute to spare between hikes, and parties, and sea days, and garden fun and general excitement, that they are inclined to make one most breathless. 1 think that one thing about them that is specially enjoyable is that you don't have to rush to catch the bus in the mornings (which, by the way, you generally miss, and- then have to walk up the hill very fast to get there in time).

Do you know, there was actually a frog in the garden yesterday. He was sitting 011 tiie little green log among the lilies, and I guess he must have mistaken it for summer, sucli ft sunny day it was. Well, I was just thinking of the possibilities of his being a second frog-prince, I advanced very quietly, preparing a speech that began, "Dear frog," and then it would get all muddled up with, "Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one .shilling." Well I was pretty close, and was just about to make a very polite curtsy when the frog turned upon me a cold glance that wasn't at ail frog-princely, and hopped away into the grass. Most impolite of him, don't you think ? Aren't you almost shouting with gladness just because it's spring? Oh, it's so exciting in the garden—primroses gold, and freesias, and the dainty little pink lace lady, who throws you kisses all the day long. She's the peach tree, you know. And the daffodils over in the corner bed are always dancing "The Grand Old Duke of York." Up they come in two long rows of pale Kohl, and then through the archway and down again. And down among the grasses the clover, and the new black peppermint shoots are springing, and everything has grown new and lovely. Up against the sky the wattle tree,

with gorgeous mantle of gold, and the willow tree, too, "witli all the fine kittenish silver turned into a mass of beedelighting goklness. The plum tree is a bride in white, ancl little silver shoes lias she, and crown of sweetest green. The. apple trees liave just the tightest of littlo crimson-edged buds eo far, and the willow tree has just started to show littlo tips of green. But out of all the garden people I lovo the littlo white, violets best. Just close your eyes a moment, Peter Pan, and push open the white gate. Now you can eeo them, can't you—all the little faces looking up at you, smiling, smiling. Among the grape hyacinths, who .stand like brave soldiers on duty, they are. - They are so tiny and sweet that you just can't help loving them, and perhaps it is, too, that they remind you so very much that the real heart of spring is in your own garden. The campaign has been splendid, hasn't it? Air best congratulations to you and Wendy for making such a success of it.—From Mary Gveig.