THE POSTIE’S BAG

Evening Star, Issue 20346, 30 November 1929, Page 9

THE POSTIE’S BAG

153 Bay View road, St. Hilda. Dear Big Brother Bill, —How are you getting on? It is a few months ago since 1 last wrote to you, so 1 thought I had better write again and tell you all about the lovely holiday I had last term. My mother and I first went to a farm in Methven, where the snow was Sin deep. One afternoon our friend took us by ear from Methven to Ashburton, and we met a number of old friends there and had a very pleasant afternoon. After leaving Methven we went to Christchurch for a few days. 'Che first night we were there we were invited to a twenty-first birthday party, at which there were eighty guests. After a few delightful days in Christchurch we set off for Hokitika. On arriving at Hokitika we were met by an aunt and uncle and taken by car to their, home at L. Kokatahi, eighteen miles out. They live in a timber settlement alongside a saw-mill, and we saw them hauling logs across the river to the timber mill and sawing them into lengths, to be taken away in lorries. My uncle also took us to Lake Hanieri, twenty-five miles from their home. It was a beautiful trip, there being ferns and tree ferns along the roadsides. After spending four days in the timber settlement we came back to Hokitika, where we boarded the train for Christchurch, and I think, Brother Bill, that the scenery on the West Coast is as pretty as anyone tonld wish to see..

We arrived in Christchurch again for another few days which were fully taken up visiting friends and relations. The time passed ah too quickly, and we arrived in Dunedin ready for me to start school in earnest. Well, Brother Bill, I will dose, with love to all the aunts and uncles and the family and yourself.—Sadie Syder. [Thank you for your most interesting letter, Sadie Syder. You must have had a charming and delightful holiday, and you are certainly a very lucky girl. Do you know that Brother Bill has not been to the West Coast? He has received letters from the West Coast, to be sure, some of them delightfully descriptive _ like your own. Eight inches of snow is_ sufficient to have a stunning time making snowballs and snow men. Did anything like that happen? Brother Bill was at a twenty-first birthday party, where they presented the young man with a big gilt key. It represented the fact that he was now to be allowed full liberty in the house, including liberty to stay out late without either dad or mother asking questions about it. Did they do that at your friend’s party? Your description of lakes and tree ferns and logging mills sounds quite fascinating. A friend who lives in the district where you were visiting tells Brother Bill that there are no ferns in all New Zealand like those on the West Coast; your letter suggests that it may be true. The trouble about holidays is that they come to an end so quickly, as you say; the benefit of holidays is that they make you and happy for future work. Brother Bin hopes that your. holiday has made an excellent difference in this last term’s work at school, and when mother sees your report she will he rewarded for the very fine time she i gave her small daughter.]

Lovell’s Flat. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I have often wished I could become one of your large family of bairns, so I want to enroll now. Would you please accept me ? When my birthday came on June 1 last, I was eleven years old, and I am in Standard V. at school. For the first and second terms this year I have been first in my standard, "and I hope to be the same this term. Igo to the Sunday school here, and every year I enter for the exams. I like reading your column in Saturday’s ‘ Star,’ and it is good fun trying to find the answers to the competition. The last competition, was very good; and I am sending in the answer to it. There is an ‘ Evening Star’ bus runs out this way, and it generally throws one off to our neighbours, who hand it on to us. Last night the man threw off a ‘ Star ’ to me, as I was taking the cows home. The weather has been very bad lately, but I think it will be all right again soon. On Friday it was snowing, but unluckily the rain came and made the snow disappear. Yesterday the rain came down in torrents from morn till night, and we thought that there might be a flood in the morning, but when J got up the grey clouds had vanished, and I was greeted by the warm rays of the sun. We have not a radio, but 1 always look forward to the children’s column instead of the children’s hour. On my way home from school I have

to drive eight cows, although only one of them is ours. We keep nine hens, which lay fairly well. One of them has a mania for laying a double-yolked egg, and she lays one every second day. We have a cat, which wo call Pat, and he always causes alarm when ho enters the fowlrun. We are beginning to practise for the school concert, which we hope will raise quite a lot of money. About two months ago my father put up a tent in which my brother Bob and I sleep. I think it is lovely fun. I am making a flower garden for my mother, and my neighbours have been very good to me. I am sending in the answer to this week’s competition. With love to all the bairns and yourself,—l am yours sincerely, Jack Murray. [Thank you for your letter, Jack Murray. There certainly seem to be more variety in country life than in the city. Driving cows home from school might he good fun, then again it might not. It all depends whether the cows are well behaved. In any case Brother Bill would sooner drive one than nine, and rather drive none at all. Brother Bill has had some small experience with a cow—not nine cows —and the wretched thing was as stubborn as a mule. Its cunning was past believing, Jack Murray. It would go and lose itself especially on a wet morning when every leaf was a little cascade; then Brother Bill would rise from a warm bed to discover the lost cow. He would spend about an hour searching the bush and making the weird noises a cow seems to understand, and, when he arrived back at the house, wet, miserable, and slightly short in temper, the cunning beast would be standing in the bail chewing its cud quite contentedly. Added to which, when Brother Bill addressed kindly words of wisdom to the wretched animal—you know the sort of sharp words one uses in the circumstances — it would lift that soft top lip a cow has in silent contempt of an ignorant fellow who didn’t know enough to trust a cow to come home to get rid of the discomfort of a full milk bag. So now you know why Big Brother Bill likes his milk left in a can at the back door about 6 o’clock in the morning. If yon have a hen working overtime in the laying of double-yolked eggs, be very glad my young friend. Big Brother Bill has some hens that won’t work at all. The Christmas is coming and we are feeding them on the most fattening foods possible. There is a wooden block in my backyard, and a small axe; the rest of the story needs no telling. If a hen won’t lay eggs, praise be to all good cooks, it can lay on a dish. Brother Bill is glad you enjoy our columns, and wishes all the best things for the coming Christmasti ’e.]

Peel street, Lawrence. Dear Big Brother Bill, —I have longed to join your happy hand, but as I have been busy lately I have not had much chance of writing to yon. Never mind it isn’t too late t make a start, is it? I have solved this week’s competition as well as I could. I have always worked the competitions, which are very good, this one evpecially. The ‘ Evening Star ’ reaches Lawrence at 6.30 now instead of S and 9 o’clock as it did when co ing by train. Did you have snow last Friday? We had it here, but not very thick. The moon shone brightly in the evening, and the snow' looked beautiful. I don’t know if you have ever been to Lawrence, but I think it is one of the prettiest places in New Zealand. I suppose everybody thinks their home ■'own the best. Well, Brother Bill. 1 must close now, with heaps of love to yourself and the 1 airns.—Margaret Martin. [Thank you for your first letter, Margaret Martin. Brother Bill has not been to Lawrence. The joy of not h ing visited places is that you have so many places to look forward to when you have both time and money to spend. Someday, when you see a handsome fellow, with slightly gray hair, and a very dignified presence, walking down the main street of your beautiful town, you will know that Brother Bill is adding another ; lace to the many be has visited. Of course, Brother Bill is talking about himself, and there are people who would say that an ordinary follow, slightly gray, and more than slightly stout, would be a better description ; but his own opinion is that the first description is most truthful. Brother Bill did not see the snow because he was in Christchurch enjoying delightful weather; but the moonlight on snow is a lovely sight, little sister. He quite appreciates your enjoyment of it. Everybody should be proud of their own home town, Margaret. If it is the poorest place on earth there should he something about it that makes it specially attractive to the folk who Jive there. Bw'her Bill thinks that there is no place like Dunedin; it is the loveliest place in all the world.; hut then, he hasn’t been to Lawrence. Yon must write again soon.]

Brydone. Dear Big Brother Bill, —May I become a member of your happy family? I am in Standard HI., and I am nine years old. I have two brothers and a sister. Our granddad, in Tapanui, sends us the Saturday’s ‘ Evening Star ’ every week, and we enjoy the letters and bed-timo tales on your page. Have you ever been to Brydone, Brother Bill? it is a very pretty place. It is a dairying district, and almost everyone has cows and sheep. There is a big dairy factory, store, school, and hall close to the station. There are about forty children going to school; a number come in the train from Ota Creek. We are at present busy with our exam. We break up on December 18 for our holidays. I went to Lumsden for the last term holidays, and had such a splendid time. My aunties gave me a lovely big doll to bring home. We have an opossum, a bantam rooster and hen and nine chicks, also other fowls, a cat, and two cows and a calf. With love to all the other members of your family.— T l remain your truly,- Flora Smith.

[Thank you for your delightful little letter, Flora Smith. Brother Bill has not been to Brydone, but that will be undoubtedly his loss. Cows and sheep, milk, cream, butter, cheese, and good wool to make into warm clothing. Brydone illustrates the good that country folk do for the city; we should be very badly off indeed without excellent people like Flora Smith, her, family, and other -people like them. Brother

Bill is glad that you like the columns ami that you find pleasure and happiness in reading the things printed therein. You must have a very fine auntie, young lady, and that big doll seems to prove it. Brother Bill likes the idea of a pot opossum. Your other pets are quite usual, of course, but having a pet opossum is like the pet squirrel that Brother Bill had as a boy. It was the dandiest little red squirrel you ever saw, with a curly tail that was a picture. Is your ’possum kept in a cage, or do you allow it to range about the place? What do you feed it with? You must write and tell me more about it. Brother Bil sends his good wishes and hopes that your examination has been very successful for one scholar at least.]

107 Musselburgh Rise, Anderson’s Bay. Dear Big Brother Bill,—lt is quite a long time since I last wrote to you. The last time 1 wrote I received five marks for an interesting letter, so 1 must write another interesting one. My brother, who works at Sparrow’s, is .working just now at the Shotover River, helping to fix up the dredge for gold mining purposes. It is hoped that it will be finished by Christmas. My cousin from the West Coast has been staying with us, and she told me that she and her husband slept through the earthquakes. She said that the safest place to stand while the earthquake is taking place is in the door way. We are going over to the West Coast for the Christmas holidays. We have finished our school exams., and 1 do not know whether I have passed or not. At the Girl Guide rally our company came third, and one of our girls won the hundred j'ards championship. My little niece has been sick since Friday, and she is getting more teeth. She will be eight months old on November 15. 1 will close now, with best love to all the aunts and uncles, Joyce Lane.

[lt was very nice to get another letter, Joyce Lane, and, although you did not succeed in getting marks tor interest, you came very near it. There seems to be quite a number of the bairns going to the West Const for the Christmas holidays; Brother Bill hopes that you will all have the happiest possible time. The earthquakes are a bit of a bother, certainly, hut folk seem to have got quite used to them by now. It will bo something like getting one’s sea-legs on a voyage. The motion of the ship is bad at first, hut the time comes when you go about your different tasks and enjoyment without noticing the movement at all. To some people it happens this way, but Big Brother Bill seems to be an exception; he is never comfortable on a boat. He hopes that you have ro unhappy or frightening experiences whilst you are there at Christmas. Congratulations on your Girl Guide performance, and heaps of good wishes for next year.]