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Press, Volume LXX, Issue 21123, 26 March 1934, Page 9

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TO THE BI'IT OS. or THE I*l-'. Sir, —My father (financed by Ins uncle, a Dr. Shaw. F.R.G.S., a lean, tall, untiring walker, who lelt his name attached to a small waterfall on the coast where he cached a flask of brandyt left his home in Lincolnshire at the age of 17 in the early 'fifties, armed to the teeth with six-shooter revolving pepper bores, with which one might hit a haystack at 20 paces. He returned home, and later brought out me, ascd three, in the Wild Duck, with a neat little rook rifle, about which I «oon committed the sin of coveteous-ne-s. 1 don't think the rooks could have roosted so hinli in Finland as thev do in Fendalton, where Ihov would be out of range of father's rook rifle I believe that story about rooks on a rnv.'l surface.

though the teller smiles; indulgently when I stan one of my stories about our spiritual home. I believe that story about the woodhen and the watch. Here is another about a tame pukeko. "Look, poppa," said a small girl to her absent-minded father who was planting cabbajies—the bird was pulling them lip behind him. 1 have had my .solf ball taken by a seagull down here, thinking he had a pipi to crack. Yours, etc.. I'F/L'KK TKOI-OVK. March 23. 1934.