Dots Little Folk

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22713, 28 October 1935, Page 15

Dots Little Folk

THE WEEK'S POEM. This excited little poem is a good description of a seventh birthday, is It not, children? ___ DOT. «‘ * ♦ SEVEN TIMES ONE. There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover. There's no rain left in heaven; I’ve said my “ seven times ” over and over. Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old, I can write a letter; My birthday lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one time’s one. 0 moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low; You were bright 1 ah, bright! but your light is failing— You are nothing now bat a bow. O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow, You’ve powdered your legs with gold! 0 brave marsh mary-buds, rich and yellow, Give me your money to hold. O columbine, open your golden wrapper, Where two twin turtle doves dwell! 0 cuckooplnt, toll me the purple clapper That hangs In your clear green bell! And show me your nest with the young ones In it; ■ I will not steal them away; 1 am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet, I am seven times one to-day. —Jean Ingelow. WEAVERS OF WORDS. Last week we were left wondering what Lokl was going to do to Baldur, my Little Folk, and what part blind Hodr was to play. This week we learn all about it. The tale. Is quite straightforward; so needs no explanation from me. DOT * * * OF BALDUR’S DOOM. —(Continued.) Hiding In the forest, he changed himself into the form of an old and tottering woman and, leaning on a stick, made his way to the door of Frlgga’s palace, where she sat smiling as she watched the gods at play. . ~ . “ Sit thee down, mother,” she said, ana drink a measure of milk during thy rest.” " What do they there,” quavered the crone, “that they make so merry?” “They make play with my son, Frigga answered, “ for naught can Injure him. And she told'the tale of her journey. “And did all things swear the oath? asked the. woman. „ •< A)! —■ —” said Frigga proudly, then she stopped suddenly. “ Nay, one there was that I overlooked, hut so small and weak is it that It is harmless." . " And that, great queen, is- ? the old woman spoke in feverish haste. " Merely the mistletoe that grows on the great oak at Valhalla’s gate. A soft, thin twig It Is.” “ True,” sneered the crone, It Is but a poor thing and of no account. And now, O Frigga, I thank thee for thy welcome, and will go my way.” Lokl limped off until he reached the wood, then, taking his own shape, he sped to the west gate of Valhalla. There among the spreading oak branches he found the greengrey twig and cut it. Muttering runes over it, he laughed to see It grow and lengthen until it was as thick and firm as a spear-haft. “ Small and weak, forsooth! ” he laughed, “ thou wilt yet serve my turn.” He pointed one end with his sharp knife, then hurried off to join the Aesir in the peace-garth. Sidling up to blind Hodr, who still stood sadly by the wall, he asked: “Why loiterest thou here alone, O Hodr? Thy strength should surely be put forth In Baldur’s honour.” "In my everlasting night, what can I do In my brother’s honour?” Hodr replied bitterly; “ besides, no weapon have I.” “Take this," said Loki, giving him the mistletoe shaft, “ and I will guide thy hand.” Hodr went forward into the ring and took aim, amid the heartening shouts of the Aesir. The spear clove the air and. In a second, the shouts were stilled, and blank dismay fell upon all, for Baldur, pierced and bleeding, fell dead upon the sward. “What is it? Why are ye still?” blind Hodr asked. "What has befallen?” “ Thy brother is dead: slain by thy luckless hand, 0 Hodr. Woe the day for Asgard and the gods! ” (To be continued.) THE SIX SEFTONS.. ■ Something to Amuse the Younger Little Folk. CHAPTER IX.—PUNCH’S DAY: THE RAFT. They were bathing down at the river. Fat Jacko, who could not swim, and Berry, who was answerable for only about two strokes, were in the shallow end, sitting the way the current was flowing and letting the ripples creep up their backbones and tickle them. They were pressing into the gravel with their toes so as not to be shifted from their places, for the current was swift at the shallow end. and it was difficult to sit tight when you were small and not very heavy. Starlie was swimming up and down across the pool. She swam like a frog, with smooth, quick strokes, which carried her a great distance at a time and, curiously enough, left scarcely a ripple behind her. Pepin, watching from the bank, was inclined to tell her to try to swim overarm, but knew it was a- stroke she would never master and for which She had no liking. Eidie was hanging on to the diving board and letting herself trail in the water, the sensation of strain on her upstretched .arms seeming to give her particular pleasure. Soon she would not be able to hang on any longer, and, little by little, her tired fingers would relax, and she would slide down beneath the surface of the water and feel It close over her and shut, her; in. That was the best part of all to Eidie, It made her feel like a mermaid. TLook out, everybody ! ” with a gasp Eidie let go sooner than she had meant to, and went beneath the water without remembering how pleasant it should havS been to her, and Starlie, putting extra energy into her kick, shot across the surface of the pool in a flash so as to leave the centre clear. There was a run, a leap, a creak from the diving board as it rebounded upwards, and Punch had entered the water in a long dive. He came up at the other side of the pool, grasping the willow boughs and grinning. " Good man,” called Pepin, following suit, punch dived back again, and they met in the middle of the pool and grappled with each other, rising spluttering and gasping after dragging each other under. (To be continued.) TO ALL. Dear Little Folk, —Here is an account of a tomboy I have found for you. I think you -v?ill be interested in it. —Your loving, DOT. The tomboy is as extinct as the dodo. No longer do parents tell their female children, “ Little girls don’t do that! ” On the contrary, little girls are encouraged to take part in all their brothers’ games, to climb trees, and sit astride walls when so disposed. The desire was there in the olden days, but the little girl who displayed activity instead of sitting down to sew a sampler was called a tomboy. One of the most famous tomboys of her generation was the Austrian traveller, Ida Pfeiffer, who was born in 1797. The only girl, with five brothers, she was brought up exactly In the same way as the boys, up to the age of nine being dressed like them, riding, playing their games, and tearing her clothes as much as she wished.

At nine she was put into petticoats, but Immediately pined, and at last fell ill, so that the doctor called in to attend her advised the mother to let her continue to •wear boy's clothing. She continued to do so till she was 13, always refusing to learn any of the subjects considered “ ladylike ” in those days, even burning her fingers ■with sealing wax so that she might be unable to play on the piano. Alas, the freedom of her early days was brought to an end when Ida reached a marriageable age. She had fallen in love, but was not allowed to marry the object of her choice, though it was quite a suitable alliance. After a series of domestic scenes she gave in at last to her mother, and married the man that lady had chosen, a Dr Pfeiffer, 24 years older than herself, a widower with a grown-up son. When he died, after 18 years of married life, Mme. Pfeiffer managed to give her sons a good education and to put them out in life, for adversity bad taught her economy. Then, at the age of 45, she determined to gratify the wish of her life and dee the world. „ : She had very little money available for the purpose, but her married life had taught her not to shrink from hardship. She first visited the Holy Hand, sailing down the Danube to the Black Sea in 1842, thence crossing from Constantinople into Syria, and returning via Egypt, Sicily, and Italy. The book she wrote about this voyage met with such success that she acquired funds enough for a second journey to Iceland and Scandinavia in 1845. From the book she wrote on this journey, and the sale of the geological and botanical specimens she brought back with, her, she acquired funds for the purpose of travelling round the world, always her darling dream. „ " A Woman’s Journey Round the World,

Inaugurated Jury 16,1886, o b y th.e OTAGO WITNESS DOT Invite* short l»tt«:r* from her young friends throughout the Dominion on matters of interest to themselves. New members must enclose their name and address. These will not be published, and are for registration purposes only. Little folk should write on one side of the paper only, and In ink. and should address their letters, "Dot, care of Editor, Otago D *%oT™ < L!ttle Folk's Badge, with pin, for use as a brooch, is obtainable on application to Dot. Price 2s 6d, la stamps o» postal notes.

published on her return in 1848, is one of the most fascinating books of travel. It Is a plain, straightforward narrative, showing keen observation of detail. The reader who makes the acquaintance of Ida Pfeiffer’s books for the first time will be amazed at the endurance of this remarkable woman, no longer young. She made a second journey round the world In 1853-54, and a voyage to Madagascar in 1858 at the age of 61. There, however, she was thrown into prison by the bloodthirsty queen Ranavola, and was attacked by malignant fever, from the results of which she died on her return to Europe. LITTLE FOLKS' DEBATING CLUB, The winning side In the last debate, “ Are Talkie Programmes Which Have Been Passed As Suitable for Children Beneficial to an Ordinary Child of School Age? was the affirmative side, the letters relating to which l.ad better arguments and were better expressed than those of the negative side Congratulations to the affirmatives The title of the next debate will be Child In Better Off—the Member of a Largo Family or an Only Child ? ” Will those who think that a member of a large famllj is better off than an only child please write your letters this week? I think this should be a gcod debate, because there is so much to be said on each side. DQT letters from little folk. Motto—We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves. FIRST LETTERS. Dear Dot, —May I be a Little Folk? Being desirous of exchanging stamps, I shall he thankful if you will, through the columns of your paper. And me’a few correspondents interested in this hobby. INDIAN DON (Don Bywater, M. and S. hi. , Ry. Quarters, Bangalore City, South India). '[Certainly you may join, Indian Don. My Little Folk like correspondents in India. DoT ' ] * * ¥ Dear Dot, —May I become a member of yo?r everlasting hand? I am 10 years old and in Standard IV at school. I live on a farm where there are plenty of cattle and sheep I have just one halt a mile to go to school. We have many lambs. Best wishes. DAISY DAWN (Duntroon). [Welcome to you, Daisy Dawn. Write to Vera Ward, Frobisher, Saskatchewan, Canada. E'OT.] # ... Dear Dot, —May I become a member of your happy band of Little Folk. I am 11 vears of age and in Form I. Wo have six pups and two dogs. We are keeping two, and we are giving the others away. We are calling one Ebb. What will we call the other 7 As this is my first letter I shall close, with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. ROBINETTA (North Otago). [Call the other dog Neap, Robinetta. And welcome to the band. —DOT.] BEST LETTERS. Dear Dot,—ln Monday week’s Little Folk page there was printed a letter written by a Little Folk who had spent a holiday in Oarnaru. It was a description of Oamaru. I am going to - criticise it, as I do not agree with several points In it. The letter says, " The town has only one main street, and shops along one side only. Here Ido not agree. Thames street has shops °o botb sides o!l it, while Severn street is also an Important street. In talking of gardens, the writer says, “I think the hothouse is best of all, because it is only there that one can see spring so early. The hothouse is never occupied. by spring flowers, but beautiful flowers requiring a warm climate are cultivated there. The last point needing to be corrected is the following. “ The Peter Pan statue is simply marvellous. On top of -it are p ®‘ e J pan . an f! Wendy.” The statue is not a Peter lan statue, as the writer calls it, but a Wonderland ” statue. On top of it are not Peter Fan and Wendy, but Wendy and one of her brothers. I will close now, as space is precious. Love to all, especially your own dear self. SWEET PEA BUTTERFLY (Oamaru). (Thank you for your corrections. Sweet Pea Butterflyf' As you live in Oamaru you naturally know more about It than a Little Folk ’nho has been there merely twa holiday and fallen in love with the town at first sight.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —In the holidays I stayed a few days out at Lake Hayes. It is wonderful out there. The distant surrounding mountains and the blue lake fringed with trees would make an artist’s fingers long for his brush. One day a girl friend said she would take me out for a row. We balea out the boa;, and then set off. It was gorgeous. Dot. A cool, gentle breeze sent little ripples along the water. The lake in the deepest place is nearly 100 feet deep. After we had gone some way, my friend decided to teach rne to row. It Is really a harder task than one would think. When 1 had become used to one oar I tried with the other, and then with both. It was very awkward. I found I could row better with one arm than the other. I was lucky that I did not catch “ a crab,” although once or twice I nearly did. After a pleasant trip we brought the boat to the landing place, tied the painter to a tree branch, and stepped out. X decided that rowing was rather difficult, but very pleasant. Best of lore. . A GOLD DIGGER’S DAUGHTER (Arrowtown). [You spelt the name “ Lake Haze,” A Gold Digger’s Daughter, which really made a prettier name than the correct one. Learning to row is an interesting experience.— DOT - J * * Dear Dot, —I wonder how many Little Folk hive admired the pretty picture on a willow-pattern plate or cup without knowing the meaning of it. If you look closely at a willow-pattern plate you will sec the quaint Chinese figures—Chang, with a jewel box; Koong Shee, with a distaff: and the mandarin, with a lash—crossing the bridge. Here li the story briefly:—Koong ohee, the lovely daughter of a Chinese mandarin, loved a poor man, Chang. When her father discovered her secret he imprisoned the poor girl in the house that is shown on the left of the willow-pattern plate, with a lake below it. Day after day Chang smuggled little messages enclosed in coconut shells, and sent them across the lake to her. One day Chang was walking sadly along the shores V the lake, when he saw a coconut shell floating towards him. Lifting it out, he found this message in it from Koong Shee, " Do not wise farmers gather the fruits they fear to be stolen?” Disguised as a priest, he entered the pavilion where the maiden was imprisoned, and taking Koong Shoe’s jewels the lovers fled, crossing the bridge by the willow. But the mandarin was almost as quick. The lovers were picked ip by the boat shown in the picture, and escaped to the pagoda on the farther shore, where they lived until a rich man who had been one of Koong Shee’s suitors discovered their retreat and set fire to their home and burnt them to death. MEZZO (Cambridge). [But the two little birds flying high are what the lovers were changed into. Mezzo. The flames did not destroy them, says this pretty and popular legend.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —This little poem is called the “ Sun and the Snowdrop,” The Sun; “Hast thou been sleeping, little Snowdrop? Lying' so snug in the ground, When the cold winds were blowing, And ihe snow was falling all round. “When the ground was white with frost And cold as rock or steel, Wast thou sleeping, little Snowdrop, And the cold weather did not feel? “My sunbeams could not reach you To warm the cold, dark earth, Wast thou sleeping, little Snowdrop At the Winter's birth? "But, little Snowdrop, Spring is here, And thou hast awakened at last, And you will enjoy the bright, warm days Now that Winter is past.” Snowdrop: "Yes, 0 Sun, I have awakened, Awakened from my wintry bed, And now I’ll bloom in beauty With your sunshine on my head. “My little brown brothers have wakened, too, And show their flowery heads: They seem to say as they nod to and fro, ‘ I'm glad that Winter is dead.’ ” Kindest regards. TRIXIE OF TAIERI (Taleri). [I expect, if they could talk, they would certainly talk like this, Trixie of Taleri. Thank you for writing in verse. —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥

Dear Dot. —As I sit writing this letter the radio is pouring forth a recording of Schumann's first symphony. I find It impossible to listen to music of this type without re-acting in the happiest fashion thereto, and because last week I gave some impressions of music which I detested, I may

as well reverse the process this time. It ever sheer joy was expressed in music, surely it is here! I am told that the opening of the spmphony is supposed to represent the awakening of spring, and heartily agree with the theory. Any Little Folk who consider classical music austere to the point of dryness would be well advised to try the effect of music such as this or else the blithesome effusions of Mozart, Schubert, Mendelssohn, and the like. That sort of music simply bubbles over with good spirits, and it is a dull soul who does not revel in it. The main difficulty with classical music is that when announced over the air it sounds so formidable, and people unacquainted with it may wonder how I can manage to enthuse over a piece of work described as “ Symphony No. 1 in B flat major, opus 38, by Schumann.” But many charming pieces of music exist under the high-sounding title of symphony, or concerto, or sonata. And the work which has just concluded as I am writing these words is a case in point. While on the subject I might plead for a tolerance towards classical music, for some people refuse to listen to it just because the composer is a foreigner. This sort of foolishness is very prominent in Germany to-day, where all Jewish composers are refused a hearing, and one of the most prominent of these whose music is banned by the offended Nazis is our beloved Mendelssohn. But surely we are above such views! For music is International, and has no frontiers. Let us remember that. CHARLES DICKENS (Dunedin). [You are quite right, Charles Dickens, in your plea for a tolerant attitude towards classical music. Evidently you know how to listen, which, in Itself, is something that some people have to learn. —DOT.] sx * ¥ Dear Dot,—l went out one Saturday to see the seal at St. Clair. It has big teeth, big ears, and a big, long, dirty tail. It Is very dirty and very big. When dogs tease it and bark at it, the seal runs after them. It is a very playful animal. Best love. LITTLE WHITE SIXPENCE (Dunedin). [I am glad that people are being kind to the seal. Little White Sixpence. Did vou wish that you could stroke it, or was it too dirty?—DOT.] ’ # * * Dear Dot, —W r e have a little pup. She is white, with one or two black spots on her. two eyes with pink round them, and a tail about an inch and a-halt long that is never still. We no sooner take her on the road than she is chasing the first dog passing She follows us to school if she can get out through the gate. Sometimes she squeezes through a hole in the fence, and although we put her inside again she comes out We have to get mum to hold her until we are out of sight. One night mother gave her some milk. As the kitten was hungry too, she thought she would see whether they would drink from the same dish. So she put the kitten down by the dish of milk and left the two. When she came out a minute or so later she found them both drinking together. Love to the Little Folk and yourSelt ' TWINKLE GNOME (Seacllff). [lf you had seen ” Sequoia ” you would have seen a puma and a deer drinkiiit, similarly, Twinkle Gnome. Please tell mo if the cat and dog friendship is progressing. I hope it is.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I really must tell you about a walk in the bush. Twinkle Gnome, June and I went for a walk into the bush. Wc found a fallen tree, and we ail thought It would be good fun to play at school, bo wo decided that Twinkle Gnome would be the teacher, and June and I would be the children. We played for about half an houi, then, of course, we went in to tea. Love to all ‘ PUSSY KITTEN (Seacliff). [You must like school when you would want to play at it in the bush Pussy Kitten. What a charming school form a tree would make! —DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —I am in the Dunedin Hospital, so would you mind my writing in pencil? I came in for swollen Blands, x think I am going home soon. I shall bo glad too. I am allowed to get up, but I shan’t be able to get up afterwards, because I am going to have my tonsils out. I '"must close now, with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. BLACK WATCH’S SON (Otokia). (By now it Is all over, I hope. Black Watch’s Son. Nasty things, glands and tonsils! But the doctors will make you well in no time. —DOT.] ¥ ¥ V Dear Dot, —No doubt most of the Little Folk know that the 1935 health stamps are on sale at the post offices now, and many will have seen the new stamp. A special effort is being made this year to raise a larger sum of money, so that more children can regain good health and strength through spending a short time at a camp. I am sure that every Little Folk will want to help to make some child well and happy, so I wondered if we, as a band, could be of any assistance. Suppose that each Little Folk who writes to the page between now and the time when the stamps will be withdrawn from sale (probably about February) uses a health stamp for Just one letter to you. In four or live months hundreds of different ones must write once, so think of the hundreds of pennies that would be for the health camps. I also wondered that if the Little Polk used a health stamp for one letter to you, arrangements could be made for someone, perhaps a Dunedin Little Folk, to soak those stamps off the envelopes and sell them to a dealer, the money to be given to the camp fund. It 100 Little Folk use one stamp each the result would be 8s 4d for the fund, and one dealer will pay os for 100 used stamps, so if they were sold it would mean 13s 4d altogether. What do you think of the idea, Dot? Anyway we shall all try to help this work by using as many health stamps as we can, X am sure. SQUIRREL (Oamaru). [I think the idea a very good one, Squirrel. For my own part, I shall keep aside every health stamp I see on a Little Folk letter, and later use them in regard to the fund.— DOT.] * . * Dear Dot, —I have just finished reading a book which has given me great pleasure. “ Early Days in Central Otago,” by Robert Gilkison, is the title. It is a collection of stirring tales of the pioneers at the time of the gold rushes, and it made very interesting reading. I shall now endeavour to describe the character who appealed the most to me in these tales of hardship and adventure, namely, Captain Jackson Barry. If my memory serves me truthfully, we have an Old Writer called Captain Jackson Barry’s Daughter, and I have been wondering if she is a relation of this interesting sea captain. Somewhere about 1862 Captain Barry contracted the gold fever, and departed for Skippers. Later he opened a butcher’s shop at The Junction, now called Cromwell. Gaining papularity there, he became its first mayor. There is a story toid that on one occasion when he was visiting Dunedin the members of the council took advantage of his absence to move a vote against him. When at the next meeting the minutes were read, and Captain Jackson Barry heard of the opposing vote, he demanded to know, “ Who moved that? ” When a councillor rose admitting it was he, Barry promptly knocked him down, then threw him out the window. Two other councillors, seeing this procedure, immediately leapt out of another window, which brought the meeting to an abrupt conclusion. So you see, Dot, Captain Jackson Barry had a real quarterdeck manner with those who opposed or offended him. On another occasion, when Governor Grey was visiting the goldfields, Captain Barry decided that he would have to have a mayoral robe, and that it must be lined with vermin (probably he meant ermine, a fur used tor such robes). Needless to say, this suggestion was not met with approval, and the unusually-lined robe was never procured. When Sir George Grey arrived Captain Barry, instead of giving him a public reception, invited him to view his prize boars, which were very dear to Barry’s heart. The Governor, on leaving, said he would not have missed the visit for worlds, and left Barry well pleased with himself and everything in general. So lived this adventurous man, who claimed to have had all the adventures spoken of in the enclosed poem written for him by Bracken. Bracken Verse To Captain Jackson Barry. Who wrote a book of wondrous tales, And stories told of hulks and gaols, And floated on the backs of whales?— Why, Captain Jackson Barry. Who knew the claimant at a glance— At Castlemaine they met by chance — And solved the Tichbourne heir romance? — Why, Captain Jackson Barry. Who took a drive down Rotten Row Between two real live lords, you know, And never yet has learned to blow? — Why, Captain Jackson Barry. Who told about the wondrous ores That lie about New Zealand's shores, And showed Sir George his Cromwell boars? — Why, Captain Jackson Barry. Who got a letter from the Queen? Writ by her own fair hand I ween, Saying, Barry, dear, your book I’ve seen, Dear Captain Jackson Barry. Regards to all. PIXIE BARS (Gore), [his is an historical name in New Zealand, Pixie Ears. The Old Writer who signs herself his daughter does so as a nom de plume only, I agree with you that that book is a very interesting one. —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —This time I am going to tell vou about feeding the cows. We get our horse and yoke him between the shafts. Then off we go to the haystack, which is usually in a far corner of the paddock. We pick up our forks, and go for our lives pitching hay into the cart. Having done that, we give it to the cows, then we soon return for a second load. After that we unyoke our horse at the shed, and give him a well-earned feed of chaff. DAD’S ASSISTANT (Henley). [That is the way to live, Dad's Assistant. What a jolly way of doing work. And how strong it must make you ! —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —Since I last wrote to you we have a little pet lamb, which Is three weeks old. If we call “ lamby ” she runs after us for something to drink. As soon as she sees the door open she makes a rush up the steps, and if no one stops her we find her curled up before the fire. My father found her in the ditch nearly dead, so he brought her home. We warmed her drooping limbs,

and gave her a drink ot milk. She always seems to remember where to find warmth. When we pet, her the dogs and cats come up to us just ns if they were jealous at the new pet. As we have no name for her, would you please give me a name for this woolly, white lambkin? Lots of love to all. IRIS LILY (Henley). [Surely she should be called Cushla, because she is so loved and sweet, Iris Lily. I have enjoyed hearing about her Immensely, the pretty dear.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I really have something to tell you to-day. We have three new fox terrier puppies, but they have not yet opened their eyes. We are expecting to have a lot ot fun with them when they grow a little older. Roxburgh school children went to Miller's Flat to their sports. We have some good runners in our school, and in my class we have two girls who are good and who came first and second. Wo did not do well, as we won only seven points, Miller's Flat earning 25 points. We had a lovely time all the same. Dot. I hope you are well. JOAN OF HISTORY (Roxburgh). [lndeed, you have something to tell me, Joan of History, and soon you will have even more because the puppies will be older. As long as you played well it does not matter how many points you won.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I very much doubt if there is a house in Otago that receives many more visits from tramps than ours. Most of them are polite, many are clean shaven, some are neatly dressed, a few have shiny boots, but only one, if my memory is not faulty, had a silk shirt. We never refuse them anything, although sometimes some of the greedier ones are rather inclined to go "over the odds” (pardon the expression), even requesting the “ loan ” of money. About 35 per cent., I should say, are “ bearded like the pard ”; the memory ot one old gentleman with red whiskers haunting me even yet. It is pitiful to see on the more respectable patched, threadbare coats and trousers which should have been awarded superannuation long ago. Their kit consists of the inevitable black billy, blankets, and overcoat, besides a few other belongings. Having received their tea and bread and jam or cheese or whatever mother thinks best, they thank you and retire to a sheltered spot on the roadside to enjoy their meal. The most undesirable character that ever called was, I think, rather insane. I was up the road a little playing Indians (this happened about four years ago) with some friends in a wood, when we heard shouts, bangs, etc., a little way off. "A hold-up!” I shouted, and the cowboys and Big Chief Flying Bear and his braves crept along to the place of the “ hold-up.” Here was this tramp, with a long knife in one hand, throwing stones at a car that had stopped there for repairs. We were terrified, but with a sagacity that would have done any real Indian credit, much less a boy of nine years, I counselled discretion and neutrality. We hid ourselves, and when the car moved on, the tram]) pocketed or belted his knife and moved after it, muttering to himself ail the way. He had the impertinence to. walk up to the front door and ask for some tea. Dad went, to the door, as the motorist, one ot the neighbours, had warned him about tiie man. The Indians and I slunk in the back way while no one was looking and experimented with the cupboard in the pantry. SIR WALTER SCOTT (Beaumont!. [lt is the friendliness of your mother that causes the number of your tramp visitors, Sir Walter Scott. She must be both patient and kind-hearted. Some day only people who prefer tramping to anything else will be forced to do so for a living.—DOT,] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot. —I am rather ashamed ot myself for not writing before, but time slips quickly away. Now spring is in Naseby the sights we see are gay and exceedingly pleasant. Tiny lambs frolic , about in the fields of green grass.’ Singing birds build nests in tall trees high above our heads. In our orchards Nature has been at work with a paint brush and tinted the blossoms. In the (lower gardens gay-coloured flowers have unfolded their petals, and gaze out at the wide world which lies around them. Love to your ever-increasing band. ARTEMIS DIANA (Naseby). [lt must be very pretty indeed, Artemis Diana, and make you happy because it is so pretty.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot. —Oratorio, though not the most popular form of choral music at the present day, has a unique history. Dating as far back as the Crusades, It was, to begin with, of a simple formation. Consisting mainly of a group of psalms and spiritual songs, which were, for the most part, harmonised after the style of the two-part system—melody and bass —there was a lack of body, owing to the absence of the two " subduing parts. It remained thus for nearly five centuries, and it was not until the fourteenth century that it began to revolutionise. Gradually such sacred stories as “ The Good Samaritan ” and “ The Prodigal Son ” began to appear, and at this period its similarity to the mediaeval mystery play is quite evident. By the year 1600 it had matured to such an extent that solos, recitatives, choruses, and orchestral accompaniments were quite the usual thing in any performance. But there was yet much room for improvement. The smallness ot numbers among the performers did much to set back the heavy production of volume intended by the composer. Take, for instance, Mendelssohn’s “ Elijah.” How insignificant this, would sound with a chorus of, say, 30 mixed voices accompanied by an orchestra ot 20. After having been nourished tor some centuries in Italy, oratorio was now to spread throughout Europe. Ta.ken up by such composers as Bach and Handel, it was pushed forward with surprising rapidity. With the " St. Matthew Passion ” Bach showed us what could be attained, for this magnificent setting of music must surely appeal to a great many interested in choral work. With the "Messiah” (1741! and "Israel in Egypt” (1738) Handel contributes oratorio with even more delightful settings, for most of the choruses consist ot exultant music, and this seems to appeal to the listener more than anything else, and in appreciating it to the full extent his opinion will probably be of the highest. Having steadily progressed, oratorio may be said to have reached the extremity ot its popularity towards the end ot the nineteenth century, for to-day it is practically at a standstill. SCHUBERT (Dunedin). [Bo careful to make your letters simple enough to be an education to your Little Folk readers, Schubert. After all, the motto of the page is “ Wo write tor the benefit of others, not for ourselves.” I like your musical appreciation.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —We have just had a queen carnival, and I shall tell you of the coronation ceremony. Wo reserved our seat, and It was lucky for us, because there was not any left. All the people who were in the coronation had rouge on their lips and powder on their faces. They marched round the hall twice, then went on to the stage. A photographer came up from Dunedin and took a flashlight photograph of the group on the stage. The queen knighted several of the notable citizens of Lawrence. Love to all the Little Folk. DUDLEY DIGGS (Evans Flat). [You must have been very much interested, Dudley Diggs, The rouge and powder were to make the people look well under the bright lights.—DOT.] DOT’S REPLIES. I think your attack was a little too personal to be put into print, Pip’s Pet Pal, and moreover was by no means an echo of the opinion of the other Little Folk, most of whom find pleasure in the letters you deplore. It is the very frequency and regularity of them that appeal to me. After all, the page is a place where all sorts of letters can find a home, and if you yourself were to write once a week on some equally intellectual subject I should bo just as sure that certain readers would appreciate your efforts as I am in connection with this other Little Polk’s letters. Please write again soon, but in a less libellous fashion.—DOT. OLD WRITERS’ ASSOCIATION. At a meeting of the committee of the Old Writers’ Association on December 19, 1933, it was decided to hold a reunion during Winter Show Week in June, 1936, to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Dot's Lillie Folk page. It was further decided that there should be a nominal fee ot one shilling for membership, and that anyone, whether an Old Writer or not, desirous ot making a donation could do so, all subscriptions and donations, accompanied by name, address, and nom de plume, to be acknowledged in the Little Folk’s page fortnightly after being received by the secretary at her address 24 Jackson street. St. Hilda, Dunedin The monthly social of the Old Writers’ Association was held on Monday, October 21, in the R.S.A. Hall. A large number of members and friends greeted the president, who gave all a warm welcome in his usual bright manner. Items were rendered by Miss D. Schmelz, song; Mr G. Watson, Scotch humour; Mr N. Larkins, violin solo; and Miss Bryan, toe tap dance. Physical Training Instructor Lonsdale, of H.M.S. Dunedin, provided two songs, which were well received. A Monte Carlo waltz was won by Mrs Bryan and Miss Vickery. Among those present were Indian Chief, Ivanhoe, Morning Star, Alys, Francesca, Australian Lass, Lady Dundas, Lady Psyche, Maid of Killena, Glow Worm, Lavenderette, Dob's Sweetheart, Cabaret Boy, A Blue Triangle Girl, Chic Lavender, New Zealand Rata. Stilt Sp tinkler, Mahlnerangi, Almond Blossom, Bill's Old Pal, and Fat Boy. Supper terminated another memorable evening. Indian Chief carried out the' duties of M.C. in a capable manner. OLD WRITERS’ NOTES. Indian Chief, president ot the Old Writers Association (Mr Jas. T. Ramsay, 24 Neidpalh road, Mornington, Dunedin) ; and Morning Star, honorary secretary (Mrs J Hines, 24 Jackson street, St. Hilda. Dunedin), are endeavouring to complete a register of past and present Old Writers In connection with the jubilee in 1936. Either would be pleased to hear from any willing to supply names, addresses, and noras de plume, and, where possible, year of first writing to Dot. Acknowledgments will be made periodically in this column ¥ ¥ ¥ Valencia Raisin (Mrs E. G. Holden, c/o P. 0., Geraldine) late of Christchurch, wishes Mrs A. H. Gray, of 73 Sydney street, Invercargill, please to write, as she has losj. her new address, or would any Little Folk or

Old Writer knowing Mrs Gray's address please forward it to Her? OUR NEW MEMBERS. Dot extends a special welcome to Uie following Little Folk who have written to the page tor the first time this week : Indian Don, Daisy Dawn, Robinetta. MANY HAPPY RETURNS. Doi wishes many happy returns of tin day to — Young Bright Eye. who will be 12 in November.