Dot's Little Folk

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22719, 4 November 1935, Page 17

Dot's Little Folk

THE WEEK’S POEM. Do you like nonsense, children? I am sure you do, and for that reason I am giving you this week a nonsense poem hy Lewis Carroll —"A Strange Wild Song.” I wonder what you will think of it if you have not read It.before? ♦ * ♦ A STRANGE WILD SONG. He thought he saw an elephant That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found It wm A letter from his wife. "At length I realise," he said, “ The bitterness of life 1 He thought he saw a buffalo Upon the chimney-piece; He looked again, and found It wat His sister’s husband’s niece. . "Unless you leave this house,’ he said, ” I’ll send for the police 1 ” He thought he saw a rattlesnake That questioned him In Greek; Ho -looked again, and found it was The middle of next week. The one thing I regret,’ he said, ■■ la that It cannot speak! He thought he saw a banker’s clerk Descending from the bus; He looked again, and found It was A hippopotamus. “If this should stay to dine, he said, “ There won’t be much for us! He thought he saw a kangaroo That worked a coffee-mill; He looked again, and found it was A vegetable pill. “ Were I to swallow this, he said, “ I should be very ill! ’ v He thought ho saw a coach-and-four 1 That stood beside his bed; He looked again, and . found it was A bear without a head. “ Poor thing,’’ he said, poor silly thing 1 It’s waiting to be fed 1 “ —Lewis Carroll. WEAVERS OF WORDS, All unknowing, and as a result of Loki s evil plan, blind Hodr has killed his brother, my Little Polk. The gods and goddesses are so sad that Hermodr offers to go and ask the Queen of Hel to give him back to them. Meanwhile, Baldur is laid on his ship, as was the custom of the Norsemen. ■, v * * * OP BALDUR’S DOOM.—(Continued.) Threats and curses arose, mingled with the clash of arms, for In their rage and grief they would have done Hodr to death, had... not, All-Father— grave and pale In his sorrow-: —appeared before them with uplifted warning hand; . . He knew that the Volva s words must he fulfilled; this was the - will of the Great Power above all, that had decreed the passing of the gods at the last days. The brignt Jays; of Asgard were done, the Aeslr must face their end with brave serenity. “No strife must there be in the Peacegarth,” he said solemnly. “ Cease ■ mourning,- take up our beloved and bear him to hl “Not 6 yet! not yeti” ,prayed Prlgga, stilling her sobs: “there is yet one chance to ' save him. .Husband, let me try 1 ” Odin , bent his pitying glance upon her, for he knew it would be vain. A As' thou “wilt, dear one’; speak. - if. Js there one here," she asked, ‘ with courage to go down to Hel? Perchance the dread queen may hear our prayers and give us 1 back the light of our eyes, the joy of our hearts. Who of ye all will venture? ” That will I,’’sald Hermodr, the messenger, stepping forward. “ I fear not Hel and her hounds, if I may have Sleipnir for my journey.” And In a moment- the fearless Ase was gone. , , . Slowly and reverently was Baldur borne to the shore, where Hrlnghorn, his ship, was drawn up. High was the wood piled for the funeral fire, the Shining God laid thereon with costly stuffs and precious spices spread around; All Asgard : came in bitter grief— Valkyrjar, elves and spirits of wood and mountain; even the milder giants came trooping from their haunts, and the Nornir, leaving their toll, swept down to do honour to -the darling of the world. ,j:. (To be continued.) a THE SIX SEFTONS. ’ Something’ to Amuse the Younger Little = r . Folk. CHAPTER IX.-—PUNCH’S DAY: THE v. HAFT. —(Continued.) It .-was while they were making towards the bank. Punch swimming on his back with a great display of splashing, and Pepin doing a lazy trudgeon beside him, that the Idea of the raft was born. Punch suddenly turned over, raced very quickly to shore, and called to Pepin to follow: .« Jimlny Dick 1 What about making a raft, Pepin? We could give the little ones rides on' it, and let the current move It along. Shall we? ” , . No sooner said than done. In as short a time as it takes to tell, all six of them were out of the river—Bldle and Starlic dragging themselves from the deep water of the pool. Berry and Jacko running over from their positions in the shallow end. and Punch and Pepin already beginning to look tor suitable koraris among the great clumps of flax with which parts of the banks were lined. The hot sun poured down'on them, and caused Bldie to go back to where their clothes were, collect the large fibre sun hats they wore, and clap them, one' by one, on the unprotesting heads of her brothers and sisters.. The grass was so hot that It was prickly. But by now the soles of the Seftons were hard and thick, and they felt no Inconvenience. No inconvenience, that is. until their quest happened to-lead them through a patch of clover.' Then three sudden yelps of pain from Eldid, Jacko, and Berry were followed almost Immediately by three more from Starlie, Pepin, and Punch. . All six had trodden on ' one'of the bees which, on such a warm and drowsy day, were feasting in the heads of . the clover. Weeping, wailing, and lamentations! For a while, then, the business of finding koraris a raft was interrupted by the much more important one of hopping quickly off the patch of clover and attending to six bee stings, a performance which, had it not beep so extremely novel, would have aeemed_ to be much more painful than it really was. The first thing was to remove the stings —little pulsing shafts of pain, each throb of .which was pumping more poison into six already aching feet. " Now we’ve got to suck the wounds,” Eldte said. “ We’ll have to take turns and suck each others. Then we’ll not have any ill”effects.” Firmly, so as to set an example , to the rest, she seized Pepin’s foot, applied her lips to the red and aching spot. In his instep, and sucked with might and main until Pepin, cried out that she was hurting him more than the sting had. The others followed suit, each taking a turn with somebody else until the operation was safely over. Then, wearing their gymnastic shoes, and walking somewhat more slowly than before, they went on with the task of looking for koraris, a sadder, but a wiser six. (To be continued.) TO ALL. Dear. Little Folk, —On Armistice Day— November li—a silence of two minutes is observed all over the Empire so that people may remember, the Great War of 1914IS, the men who died in It, and the promise of peace which was given to the world by that war. I was reading an old copy of the Weekly Scotsman the other day. and came across the following article concerning Armistice Day and the two minutes’ silence. I think you will be interested in It, even though some of Its words are rather long.— Your loving. DOT. ¥ ¥ ¥ We hear talk of the Armistice Day ceremony becoming too “ stereotyped ! ” we hear hints of gradually doing away with the celebration, Scotland, at any rate, can have no great sympathy with such sentiments. Not only have Scots the common concern In Armistice Day born of memories of their sons and brothers who fought and fell in me Greht War, but Scots too have soma claim to having originated the service of remembrance, which some people would have us believe has outlived its usefulness. There is the famous poem which crystallises in our minds the thought of remembrance of our dead, and from which came the idea of the Flanders poppy as the symbol of remembrance on Armistice Day, and on all the anniversaries which recur throughout the year to individual families of the passing of .their loved ones amid the din and suffering of the battlefield. . . . And we wilt keep Truth faith with you who He asleep. With each a cross to mark his bed. And poppies growing overhead; So let your rest be sweet and deep. And popples growing overhead. In Flanders fields. It was Lieutenant-colonel John M’Crae, of the Canadian Amy Medical Corps, who wrote this moving poem—during the second Battle of Ypres, “in his dressing station in a hole dug in the foot of the bank ” of the Ypres cana!—and though himself born in Canada, the soldier-doctor-poet was of direct Scottish descent, as his name suggests. Colonel M’Crae’s grandfather on his mother's side was the Rev. John Eckford, who

Inaugurated Jury 16,1886, by th.e OTAGO WITNESS Dot invites short lettsrs from her young friends throughout the Dominion on milters of Intersil to themselves. New members must enclose their name and address. These will not be published, and are for registration purpose* only. Little Folk should write on on* side of the paper only, and in‘ and should address their letter*. "Dot. ears of Editor, Otago Dally Times." . . . Dot’s Little Folk's Badge, with pin, for use as a brooch, la obtainable on appllcatlea te Do*. Prlc* 2i 6d, la stamps oe postal notes.

was minister of Newblggin, in Angus, before emigrating with his family to Ontario, Canada in 1851. The father of the author of “ In Flanders Fields,” David M'Crae, was .descended from a Ross-shire man who fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie’s grandfatner, the Old Pretender, In the first Jacobite Rising of 1715, and thereafter settled at Cumnock, Ayrshire, from which place his family went to Canada. Scotland, therefore, has some grounds for claiming kinship with the writer of the “ Poppy Poem ” and the institution of the Flanders poppy as the symbol of remembrance. _ And then there is the great gesture of the two minutes’ silence on Armistice Day—-a tribute which has been adopted in all the countries of the Allies in the war. Credit for originating the idea of the two minutes silence has been claimed for several people, among them the King himself. But there seems to bo no doubt that a Glasgow soldier, who was killed In action in Mesopotamia, anticipated the suggestion which was made and so wholeheartedly adopted at the end of the war by at least a couple of years. jf you can obtain -access to issue -No* b of volume 3 of the Outpost, the magazine of the 17th Highland Light Infantry (Glasgow Chamber of Commerce) Battalion — the number la of date September, 1916 Y°“ will find on page 164 a poem, “ To Silence, with a Maeterlinck quotation, conveying the suggestion that there should be observed the ceremony of a few minutes’ silence in memory of the men who died in the Great War. There is something .prophetic in these lines, which are the concluding lines of the poem referred to : Where, matters not; be it in throne or cot, On mount or moor, or where the lone trail runs; Let us foregather with the things forgot, In justice to our sons. Clasped up for ever! And when some cheap WouWshut the Gates ( of Silence there shall come ' From chastened eyes the message man nas heard. To strike the babbler dumb. “W H” are the Initials at the foot o£ the lines. They‘cloak the Identity of Private W Hutcheson, of A Company, 17th H.L.L, who was transferred from France to India, and thence to Mesopotamia,. where he made the supreme sacrifice. LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK. Motto—We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves. LITTLE FOLKS’ DEBATING • CLUB. The subject of debate is “ Which Child Is Better Off —the Member of a Large Family or an Only Child?" Those who think that a member of a large family Is better off than an only child have written their letters this week. Will those who think that an only child !s better off please 'write their letters for next week? DQT _ * * * Dear Dot, —I am sure the only reason that an only child can be said to be better off than a child of a large family is that perhaps his parents can afford to give him a higher and easier chance in life, bm that is not everything. I have yet to meet the only child that is not and spoilt in every way. Too much thought la given to only children, and they are allowed their own way too often. Can a child be truly happy under those two rules? No, and what is more, they become discontented, selfish, greedy, and cross. I wonder what those children would not give to have a sister or brother? At school they heai other boys and girls talking of their brothers and sisters, telling of the games they play and the things they do, and that lonely little dhlld walks home to eat alone, to play alone and to sleep alone. Oh, Dot, the jqy of sisters and brothers! Sometimes they can be awful nuisances (at least mine can), but I am sure nobody who has sisters ami brothers would like to be an only child. The thoughts of the parents are not centred on one child only,, therefore those children do- not expect to have everything done for them. Those children know they cannot do everything that pleases them, and have every .nice thing that enters the house. They learn to share, not to take all, and one more thing, I think that these only children are far more apt to become snobs and bullies than children of larger families, so how can they possibly be better off? Love t 6 aU ' CHRISTMAS CARD (Dunedin). * * * Dear Dot, —Seeing I have not written for a while, I shall have a letter In the debate. Well, I will certainly say that the child of a large family is better oft than an only child. Being a member of a large family myself, I know Just what it means. An only child lives an empty, lonely life with no other sisters or brothers to play with or share his pleasures, toys, or secrets. That child In time grows very selfish ; everything it wants it gets, but still that is not everything In life, Is, it? One of a large family knows there are others as well as she in the family wanting them, and is taught to share and share alike. A large family can band together and play games, go picnicking, go for walks, and get much more pleasure and enjoyment out of me than a lonely child who is always longing for a mate, especially in their infant years. One child cannot play much on his own, and does not enjoy going for a walk on h s own. Certainly he can go with other children and play with others, but that Is not the same as one of his own family. * An only child can have pets, and find a bit of pleasure in playing and romping with them; but so can one of a large family. Often a lonely child is delicate, whereas members of a large family are nearly always strong and sturdy children. Sometimes one of a big crowd or family is delicate, but nine times out of ten they are not. Sometimes mother does not want to take her only child out, as she might think it too cold or something; then she has to leave her in the charge of a neighbour. But a mother of a large family can leave the little ones in the care of the biggest ones, and know they will be quite safe. When one sees a lonely child playing by itself, one feels sorry for it; but when you see a big family playing you have a feeling of contentment in you, and know that they are thoroughly enjoying themselves, and when you look at their happy, beaming faces and hear their shouting you are sure. Yes, the member of a large family is far happier In every way. 1 ONE OF MANY (Henley). FIRST LETTERS. Dear Dot, —May I become a member of your large, widespread family? I am 11 years of age and in Standard VI at school. I cycle about one and a-half miles to school. I have two brothers, one of whom is older than myself. Love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. FLYING FANCY (Hampden). [Yes, you may become a member, Flying Fancy. Please will you tell me about your rides to school?—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot,—l am very much interested in your page, and would like to join very much. I am interested in reading and photography. I will close now, hoping you are quite well. A ROSY TULIP (Mosglel). [Yes, I am quite well, thank you, A Rosy Tulip. Welcome as a Little Folk.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —May I join your page? I am eight years old and in Standard I. There are eight children in my class. We have three children in our house. I shall close now, with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. THE HOUSE BUILDER (Outram). [Certainly you may join, The House Builder. Please tell me more about the children. —DOT.] BEST LETTERS. Dear Dot, —I am going to tell you about spring. Spring is a very happy month, as it brings glad tidings, such as the sunshine and many other happy things. If you go Into the country for a day the first thing you notice is the bright greenness of the grass, on which the lambs are frisking about. If you pass a nearby farmhouse you hear hens cackling and- the laughter of children. Then there are the orchards with their fruit blossom, which will later turn into fruit. In spring you see the trarapers passing. They are off tor a walk because of the lovely spring weather. Then you glance at the sky; there is the skylark singing blithely heralding forth spring. I will close now. PRINCESS CHRISELDER (Wakarl). [Yes, there are all these, Princess Chriselder. I am glad you like spring as much as all this. —DOT.] * ¥ * Dear Dot, —Although spring is nearing its end, most of the trees are just fully flowered. One pretty scene is the trees along the banks of the Duller River and New Creek. On the banks of New Creek there is one mass of golden yellow bloom of the kowhal. Here the silver-throated tui dwells, dipping Its beautifully brush-tipped tongue into the bloom for the nectar, which is one of the delicacies of this bird. Occasionally a few notes are sent over the stillness of the bush. They seem to be of praise for Nature. Further back the giant pine trees loom clothed in dark bronzy green with little bunches of the starry clematis, which stand out like white lights. As New Creek swirls into

the Buller River the kowhal and clematis are left behind, and drooping willow trees fringe tho river bank. The river course at this particular spot is almost a complete circle, and with the willows crowning its glory it rushes onward to the sea. The willows look very pretty as they stand drooping their heads as if in deep mourning. They seem to bo like huge bunches of down heaped upon one another. In one spot there is one wide blanket of them. Altogether it Is a never-to-be-forgotten scene; the stiff-starch-like flowers of the kowhai contrast with the bright green of the willow relieved by the snowy-white of the clematis in the dark background. Best wishes to all A GRECIAN GODDESS (Lyell), [You have made me see the scene you describe, A Grecian Goddess. How beautiful it must be there. And how fond you must be of it.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I am sorry I did not write to you sooner, but I had Influenza. I shall tell you about the spring show that was held in Tapanui a few weeks ago. A[y father had some nice daffodils tor exhibition. The decorated tables were beautiful and well arranged. The first prize was a silver rose bowl for most points In the decorative section. Love to ail. , LAZY DAISY CHAIN (Conical Hills). [I hope the influenza has quite gone away by now, Lazy Daisy Chain. How pleased you must have been to see so many flowers! —DOT.] ' * * * Dear Dot,—l hope you have not forgotten me. hut I have had influenza. I was not able to write to you. I have a wee pet canary, which has a broken wing. One day when my father was shifting It from one cage to another it tried to get away, but it broke Its wing. Every time I put on the wireless it will start to whistle. Well, Dot, 1 will close, with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. CARNATION CORONET (Conical Hills). [Are you better now, Carnation Coronet? Poor little canary! I am very sorry to hear of its misfortune. —DOT.] ¥ if. * Dear Dot, —The phrase “Advertising pays its way ” certainly must he true, as every newspaper, magazine, or book you pick up is covered from front page to back with various advertisements, all assuring you that If you use this soap or this cream you will look 10 years younger in a few weeks. I do not think I should like to use it, for it I did I would certainly be put back in the pram, because if 10 years were taken off my appearance I would be startlingly young, indeed. Then there are the types of advertisements that do pay—the amusement ones, the pictures that happen to be on at the moment, or some great concert that happens to be on that week. The newspaper is a very good medium of advertising —one that I like —but one method I do object to is hoardings; Hoardings I do not think are necessary. They spoil the effect of the country life. To see a large signboard flaring forth at me as I am walking, cycling, or motoring along advertising the nearest refreshment rooms or hotel or some brand of soap makes me boil, and I resolve that I shall never again darken the door of that tea room or allow one cake of that soap near my face. This may sound stupid to you and readers, but to mo it is really sane. People who erect large signhoards which disfigure the view do not deserve to he patronised. In Milton at each end of the town is a large sign-board advertising the woollen mills. Well, people know only too well that there are mills there, tor does not the horn screech forth at intervals during the day. Perhaps strangers do not, but not very many strangers come to Milton, and nearly all the ones who do have heard of the great mills. But, of course, I must not forget that everybody has to live, and the only thing that keeps some magazines together is the advertising. SALOMY JANE (Milton). [Advertisements in magazines and newspapers actually are the life of the paper, Salomy Jane, and can be very interesting. I agreq with you about hoardings in tho country, however, and think they are tho most inartistic things possible.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —This time I shall tell you about the swans on the lagoon below our place. Often on a warm, sunny day I slip away to the bank above the lagoon and nestle myself on a rock in a shady nook and gaze wonderingly at five magnificent birds as they glide majestically over the surface of the lagoon. Every now and then one of these beautiful black and white birds will tip completely upsidedown in the water, and remain in this position for several seconds, then suddenly it will come back to tho surface again. The idea of this is to catch any small water creature that happens along. These small creatures are attracted hy the swan’s bright orange bill, thus making fishing a simple matter for them. Well, Dot, as space is short I will close, but I will tell you more about these interesting birds in my next letter. Kind regards. GOLDEN MORN (Roxburgh). [Who would have thought that a swan’s beauty was also the means of Us finding its food, Golden Morn? Yes, please do write more on the subject.—DOT.] $ Dear Dot, —I will tell you this time of a week I spent over the hills with a man who works for a neighbour of ours. We were stripping cocksfoot seed for sale. We rose at 5.30, fed our horses, and then had breakfast. We then harnessed our team, saddled the hacks, and left the hut at 7.30, tor it was a quarter of an hour’s ride to the paddock. On arriving there, we harnessed the team to the stripper, and I drove round the paddock twice with the man until there was a heap of seed which had been battered by the machine ready for mo to sieve by hand and bag. We then hung the bags on the fence to dry. When they were dry we carted them down the hill in a dray. . Well, Dot, I will close now, with kind regards. BILL OF THE BACK BLOCKS (Roxburgh). [What n help you must have been, Bill of the Back Blocks! And yet you were enjoying yourself at the same time. What a well-spent week I—DOT.]1 —DOT.] •Vi ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —We have four cows and three ducks, but no pet lambs. ■ We have a pup, a kitten, 42 hens, and six horses. Love to all your Little Folk and your dear self. STICKY BEAK (Moa Creek). [ls that all you can tell me. Sticky Beak? What about describing the antics of some of the animal family?—DOT;] sji ¥ *.* Dear Dot, —I had another darling lamb, which I called Dainty, only it died after a day or two. I am going to get a puppy in place of Boy. It is raining heavily as I write, making little pools of water on the road, but I think it will stop soon. I wrote to Betty Hughes in Canada, and am expecting a letter from her any day. It is almost school time now, so I must close. Much love to all and your own dear self. HEATHER FAIRY (Lake Wakatlpu). [You must tell me all about the new puppy when It arrives, Heather Fairy. How interested you will be in your letter from Canada! —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —This time I am going to tell you about some of my favourite books. The two books I like best are ” Anne of Green Gables,” by L. M. Montgomery, and “ Tom Sawyer,” by Mark Twain. L. M. Montgomery must be the most natural storyteller of the -day, as she makes you love some of the characters and hate others. She must also have a sense of humour to make you laugh so much at the awful mishaps of Anne. Mark Twain was also a great writer. I was very much amused at the antics of Tom and Huck. I have read these two books many times, and each time I have liked them better. I have also read and liked ” Jess of Top Farm,” “The Wide, Wide World,” “Little Women,” “ Silver Island,” “ Oliver Twist,” ” What Katy Did at School.” “ Tales of Robin Hood,” “ Lorna Doone," and many others. I have most of these in my possession, and I hope to obtain the whole series of the Anne books, the Katy books, and “ Huckleberry Finn.” My father Is going to make me a big bookcase, and I hope to have a library of my very own. We have a library at school, of which I make good use in my spare time. Love to the Little l olk ‘ FLORIZELLA THE VIOLINIST (Kakanui). [A library built up book by book la the best library of all, Florlzeila the Violinist. You will be surprised as you go on how your taste changes and develops.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —The other week the parishioners of the Anglican Church celebrated the centenary of the coming of Christianity to this town. Sunday afternoon was marked by a service conducted on tho site where, in October, 1835, Mr Chapman preached the first service to the Maoris. Six hundred people of all denominations gathered on the hillside overlooking the lake. One’s imagination drifted back to the long, long ago, when the beautiful Hinemoa swam across that same lake to meet her lover, Tutanekai, at the silent and stately Mokoia Island. In announcing the first hymn, ” All People That On Earth Do Dwell.” the Right Rev. F. A. Bennet, Bishop of Aotearoa, said it was Interesting to note that this was the first hymn sung at the first Christian service held on New Zealand shores by Samuel Marsden. The words were both in English and Maori set to the same tune, but when we hear such singing we pakehas realise what is lacking in our voices. Truly, the Maoris have wonderful voices. The sweet, harmonious tones blended so perfectly with the peaceful scene and tho grassy hillside above the quiet, willow-edged lake. After tho reading a second hymn, “ Onward, Christian Soldiers,” was sung. The rich voices of the Maori choir seemed as a challenge to each and all to take up their cross and follow Christ. The address, delivered both in Maori and in English, was given hy Bishop Williams. Ho briefly outlined tho course Christianity had taken and the wonderful progress made in the tow’n of Rotorua during the century of 1835-1935. The last hymn, that Immortal song, " 0 God, Our Help,” brought to a close a very fitting and very beautiful service in the memory of Mr Chapman and his loyal workers who, in the name of Jesus, carried out such splendid service for New Zealand in the early years of this Dominion. ROSY WINGS (Rotorua). [Letters about Maoris and Maori doings are always of special interest, Rosy Wings, so I hope you will continue to write in this strain. You seem to have been much impressed by the service.—DOT.] Dear Dot. —I am going to tell you about our pets. We have four cats —Tinker, Nigger, Tiddies, and Frisky. Tiddles is a black and white cat, and is very good natured. We love to sit watching him

begging, and we like to see him and I< risky fighting—friendly fights, I mean. Nigger had been away for two weeks, and arrived home one Sunday, and what a fuss we made of him! I suppose you can imagine how jealous Frisky was when he was neglected. We had two baby rabbits called Trixie and Flip, but unfortunately Frisky got one, and, of course, we let the other one free. My brother has two pigeons—a white one and a bluoy-grey one. At present they are sitting on four eggs, and we expect that they will be hatched soon. Often on sunny days the pigeons fly round the house, and have even flown out of sight. They are easily tamed, and one pigeon we had would alight on our shoulder or head any time we called him. We feed them with bread and milk, wheat, and scraps. Soon after we had the pigeon’s they both disappeared, and we found them at 'the place we bought them from. My youngest sister has a bantam, which is sitting on six hen eggs, but they will not be hatched for some time yet. Kind regards to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. OUR TOM BOY (Gatlins). [What an interesting home to be in. Our Tom Boy, with all that animal life around you! Please tell mo more when next you write, for animal letters are always good to read. —DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Here I am again to write a few lines to fill in time. As it is raining my subject will be about rain. I am sitting at our kitchen window looking up the path, which is bordered with gum trees. Water is dripping from the leaves, water is running down the path, and water is running over the tank. It sounds like music as it patters on the roof and trickles into the tank. The plants seem to crane their necks to reach the rain, and each blade of grass springs up as the water on its very tip drops off. Now a sparrow alights on the path, and has a bath in a little puddle full of water. Suddenly he hops out, and is shaking himself as if to say, “Very cold! and flies away disgustedly. If it were not for the green grass, everything would look grey and forlorn. Even the birds aren’t singing, as they sometimes do on a day of sunshine. The rain has stopped, and everything is silent) except for the homely tick of the clock, the fire burning in the grate, and the faint bleat of lambs. Well, Dot, I must close. A SILENT COMRADE (Tolro). [I like this, A Silent Comrade. You have written about what you actually were looking at, and have made a good picture ns a result.—DOT.] ;ji * * Dear’; Dot, —Mr Percy Grainger cheerfully presided over matters in the Town Hall the other night, when we heard a programme mostly of his compositions and arrangements, the whole providing a very lively and, I must say, amusing evening. Broadly speaking. Mr Grainger’s characteristics to me are a striking use of rhythm and a curious fondness »for the percussion family of instruments —the “ whack ” family, as one of my school teachers says—-and running through some of his creations is an unmistakable jazzy flavour. I cannot mention all the items, much as I should like to, for each had Its Individual Interest, but 1 must say something concerning the most prominent. Proceedings commenced with “ Handel in the Strand,” a lively clog dance, with a solo part for the xylophone (of all things). Hard it is to imagine the composer of “ Messiah ’ capering down the Strand In such a manner, but that choleric old fezziwig did many surprising things when his temper was aroused. Mr Grainger's piano solos were •varied and interesting, but I almost doubled up with mirth when, in “ Country Gardens.” he perpetrated a violent attack upon the unoffending piano, which probably received the severest thrashing it had ever endured. The works which impressed me most of all were a lovely Bach aria, to which the arranger saw fit to add some bell effects, and “ Australian Up-country Song,” an inspired piece of wordless choral meditation. Further excitement was created when we were informed that the choir vylilcli sang at the concert was “ one of the most exquisite choral bodies in the world.” However, in the course of his career Mr Grainger has made more amazing statements than even that. The pianist sent us homo happy with a magnificent delivery of the first movement of the Greig concerto, which was the only item that really thrilled me. After Mr Grainger’s rendering of this glowing classic, the applause was tumultuous, he being recalled several times. CHARLES DICKENS (Dunedin). [lt was indeed a novel experience for Dunedin, Charles Dickens. Such vigorous conducting may not come our way again. I wonder how many other Little Folk were at that recital?—DOT.] * * Dear Dot, —I thought it might prove interesting to some of the Little Folk to hear how some of the districts round here received their names. I have been told that Naseby formerly was known as Hogburn, and previously to that was sometimes called Mount Ida, but was eventually called Naseby owing to the fact that one of the early settlers called John Hydo Harris came from the town of Naseby in England. When "Naseby had received its name the early surveyors thought of some of the historical men with such a name as Oliver Cromwell, who fought in the Battle of Naseby. Thinking of Oliver Cromwell, we get the towns of Milton and Hampden. The township of Hyde was also called after Hydo Harris. Ranfurly received Us name after Lord Ranfurly who was a former Governor-General of New Zealand. “ Kye" is a Gaelic word for cow, and therefore we have the word Kyeburn. Wedderburn was originally Wether Burn after the wether sheep. Glmmerburn is also a Gaelic word meaning a young sheep called a hogget, Eweburn, Sowburn, Hogburn, Plgburn, Mareburn, Plllyburn are all names of creeks in the Manlototo County. Mount Ida was called after the famous mountain of the classics in Greece. I will close now, with best wishes t 0 jU ‘ SWEET SAN TOY (Naseby). [This is of interest to all, Sweet San Toy. If you can find out any more on the subject, be sure to write about it.—DOT.] * * ! ! ! Dear Dot. —It you had been here one Saturday morning a short time ago you would have seen many school children armed with beautiful daffodils on their way to the school, where they placed their blooms ready for the show. Some of their daffodils had been grown in their school gardens and some in their own gardens. Our headmaster was there to help with the arranging and do the judging. The school opened again at 2 p.m., so there was an eager rush of children to see who had won prizes. There were two different groups—the daffodil section and the open. My sister, Sweet San Toy, won the cup last year, but she lost it this year owing to her bloom having a petal broken with the wind, so a Standard VI girl won it with a beautiful large bloom named Metrapole. Sweet San Toy was lucky, as she won a second and three thirds, and I secured a first and a third ticket. The blooms made a pretty show.' and our headmaster had a beautiful display of all the different sorts of daffodils which he had grown himself. I will close now, with best wishes. CHARMING VALLETTA (Naseby). [A school that encourages a love of flowers is a good school to belong to, Charming Valletta. What a delightful show that must have been! —DOT.)

Dear Dot, —How very eagerly we watched the -skies and the weather glass this last week-end ! Of course, we wore to have an extra day ot leisure —Labour Day we wore looking forward to a delightful lime. But evidently Old Mother Nature decided we were not to have everything entirely our own way. The result was that we were visited by four days of welcome rain, which chose to come at the wrong time and spoil most of our holidays, which we had planned and intended to be so pleasant. Every day we scanned the heavens many times, but the rain continued unceasingly. However, much of my disappointment disappeared when I noted our drooping plants raising their heads high to drink deeply of the the downpour. But Labour Day created a great surprise by dawning bright and sunny. The activity began very early. Tralllc was heavy, trains whistled, cars and cyclists made the loads busy as they whirled their various ways to picnics and other places ot enjoyment, and the Hampers were quite numerous. I thought how very kind Nature had been after all to give us the welcome rain and then reward us in the end with a perfect day, which was unsurpassed for mildness and sunshine. Kind regards to yourself and all the Little 1 ° lk ' MURIEL MAY (Dunedin). [I thought so too, Muriel May. And what a wonderful surprise that perfect Monday was! I am glad to have a letter about it. —DOT.] * V- * Dear Dot, —Written by the photographer of the party, " The Great White South ’’ tells of Captain Scott's last expedition to the South Pole. 1 thoroughly enjoyed this book, and recommend it to any who enjoy stories of adventure. The author, Mr Herbert Pontlng, describes his own experiences and also those of his comrades. I do not think most people realise how bitterly cold it is in the Antarctic regions. Mr Pontlng tells how, when working in his laboratory, he thoughtlessly held a screw between his lips so he could use both of his hands. No sooner had the screw touched his lips than it was frozen to his skin, and in pulling it free the skin came away, too. Another time while bending over his work he moistened his lips, and the tip of his tongue happened to touch part of his apparatus. Immediately it was frozen to the steel, and his tongue was so badly Injured when he managed to pull it away he had to gag himself, as his mouth was bleeding so much. He describes in his delightful manner many interesting and thrilling experiences in the snow and ice, and tells some Interesting and amusing facts about the penguins, seals, and whales. I wonder how many Litle Folk know that it was in Oaraaru that the news that Captain Scott and several of his companions had perished was first heard. Some men, members of the expedition, landed in a small boat very early one morning, and told the sad news. Now there is a memorial at Oamaru in Arun street overlooking the harbour to remind us of those heroes who gave their lives In the search for knowledge. SQUIRREL (Oamaru). [That is indeed an interesting book, Squirrel, and so was the expedition that inspired it. The fact that it was Oamaru that first heard of the death of Captain Scott will be news to many Little Folk.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —After rain the garden is always more beautiful. Thus with this rain, before which the ground had been so dry, the lawns have grown green again, and the withering flowers have lifted their heads and blossomed forth anew. It is still raining gently, wrapping the garden in a dim veil. The lilies, watting their sweet fragrance through the evening air, lift their

pretty purple faces to heaven, and thank God with tear-filled eyes for the rain. Off the tips of the wisteria leaves the dewdrops are falling in silver mirrors of light, while the wisteria flowers cling together in misty trails, soft, blue, and graceful. Each curled leaf of the lily of the valley holds a goblet of clear water more fair than any wine. The tiny flower buds bend their heads. Perhaps they too pray in shy thankfulness. The pink clematis, drawing her bright floral gown about her, preens herself before the bold gaze of a bed of golden wallflowers. Bordering a sidewalk, the polyanthuses smile upwards, their yellow cheeks damp and glowing. To the left the rook garden lies a galaxy of colour, and away in the background the trees lift their new green leaves in welcome to the rain as it falls. Indeed, we all hall the rain with delight, father for his sheep and mother for her garden. SAUCY WAVELET (Oamaru). [To hear rain praised like this Is very pleasing, Saucy Wavelet. How you have appreciated it! I like your description.— DOT.] * * # Dear Dot, —I am going to tell you about iriy Labour Day holiday at Goodwood. We started off on October 26 and caught the train. When we arrived at Goodwood my undo had his car down to meet us. As soon as I arrived home I went to see the dogs. Their names are Spot, Joe, and Boy. On the farm they have a dapple grey pony, which I rode about on. Would you please give it a name? There are two dear little lambs—one white and the other black. They have a bottle to drink out of. The black lamb is the quieter. Soon Monday came, when I had to come home. I shall close now, with love to all. PAT THE PIRATE (Caversham). [I hope all the other Little Folk enjoyed themselves as much, Pat the Pirate. Would Dapplegrira suit the pony? It comes from an old fairy tale.—DOT.] V ¥ * Dear Dot, —How pleased we are that spring is here and summer nearly here. The beautiful clematis with its lovely starry flower is climbing vigorously over the tree top so that people will know summer is coming. I had a birthday party the other month, and had great fun. We played hide-and-seek, then had afternoon tea. We ate so much that we could hardly move. After tea we rode on, bicycles and played games as well. At 5 o’clock the guests departed, and we went to do our small duties Inside. Well, Dot, as I have no more news I will close. MATAI (Papatowai). [I am glad the party was such a success, Matai. How many bicycles did you have to ride on?—DOT.] «. * * Dear Dot, —My friend and I decided to go to Croydon Bush on Labour Day afternoon. Small niece and nephew were very anxious to come along too, and so we thought that their three little playmates might as well join us it they wanted to. Wanted to? Of course, they wanted to! And what a scampering and scattering there was as they rushed home to ask their mother’s permission ! All were allowed to come, so promptly at 1 o'clock wo packed five excited chattering little magpies into the back seat of the car. As soon as the car started the babble broke out afresh, and you can imagine. Dot. the sdund of three four-year-olds and two young ladies of six and a bit (that bit must not bo forgotten, it is most important in their estimation, for it takes them ever so much nearer seven). I do not believe they were silent for a minute until the bush was reached, and there were such excited squeals and exclamations when lambs or rabbits came into view. Just on the edge of the bush we saw a paddock beautifully covered with wee daisies, “ Carpet of Snow ” was the charming name Miss Six gave it. Arriving at our favourite camping spot, five young “ live wires ” wanted to go and catch lobsters in the creek, so we procured a tin of water and managed to catch eight lobsters of all sizes. After the lobsters were subjected to much examination in the tin, they were returned to the creek, and we all adjourned to enjoy the most important afternoon tea. Later on we went for a ramble through the bush, but when one Master Four got entangled in an argument with a lawyer hush he thought it high time to return,to camp. Returning to camp, the girls made daisy chains for their necks, while the boys chased butterflies. Such a delightful picture it made, with the happy children playing light-heartedly in the “ Carpet of Snow.” At 5 o’clock we all packed into the car again, returned to Gore, and delivered five tired, buf happy children at their respective homes. Regards to all. PIXIE EARS (Gore). [I know how interesting you found it and how you enjoyed It, Pixie Ears. You would bo a little tired, perhaps, but much more elated than if you had gone alone. The children, of course, will never forget it.—DOT.] ¥ V W Dear Dot, —I am going to toll you about a beautiful silver cup which we have in a glass case screwed on to the wall. We have won it for three years in succession, and wo are going to try to win it again at a sports meeting of all the schools which will be held on November 16 at Tapanui. I shall tell you if we win it after the sports. Love to ail. THE FIRST SNOWDROP (Conical Hills). [Ypu make mo hope that you will win it. The "First Snowdrop, so that you will tell me more about it.—DOT.] * s|< t'Dear Dot, —I am going to tell you about a pony which we have at home. She is very quiet, but does not like dogs that bite her heels. When we got her sho always shied, but she does not now. I like riding her, because sho does not buck. Her name 1s Dolly. I will closo now. with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. THE FIOWING MISSISSIPPI (Pomahaka). [She sounds a dear. The Flowing Mississippi. It 1 were she, I should not like dogs to bite my heels, either. Would you?— DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —About a fortnight ago we received a seven-valve radio into the family circle, and now that it is here wo all wonder how we did without one for so long. After an examination of the works of it. I could not help wondering how a confusion of wires (incidentally, there are six to eight miles of wire in an average-sized radio), a few valves, and ono or two other weird and wonderful looking odds find ends could produce such real and true-to-Ilte sounds. What a great blessing a radio is to those who cannot get out to church or go to concerts! One can get over an hour’s devotional service every morning, but, to my mind, one of the best things heard over the air is the music. It seems, however, that wo have been very fortunate concerning the programmes. A tew nights ago we had the very great pleasure of hearing the concert given by Mr Percy Grainger, which was broadcast from 4YA, Dunedin. This was really wonderful. I have had one of Mr Grainger’s gramophone records for some time, but I have only now learned to appreciate it. One piece of music in this concert which struck mo as very fine was “ Islamoy.” All through the melody went the sound of galloping horses. Mr Grainger gave a very interesting reason for this effect in some of the music of those composers living in the eastern plains of Siberia. Riding was the natural method of travel, and so the music has partaken of the rhythm of the hoof beats of a galloping horse. The whole concert was well worth hearing, and I was eagerly looking forward to a concert which was to bo broadcast from Christchurch on Thursday. Were you at the Dunedin concert, Dot? Hearing this master of the piano was certainly a tonic, but what would it have been to have seen him! I could not help noticing Mr Grainger’s musical speaking voice, and feeling all the charm of this radiant personality and gracious manner. Kind regards to all. GREY-EYED BLONDE (Hlllgrove). [I met Percy Grainger, Grey-eyed Blonde. He was a very alert and charming person, and gave a rousing concert. I am glad you appreciated it so much on your new wireless.—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 Little Folk page. It was further decided that there should be a nominal fee of one shilling for membership, and that anyone, whether an Old Writer or not, desirous of making a donation could do so. all subscriptions and donations, accompanied by name, address, and nom do plume, to be acknowledged in the Little Folk’s page fortnightly after being received by the secretary at her address 24 Jackson street, St. Kilda, Dunedin. Y- * * A meeting of the Old Writers’ Association will be held in the library on Monday November 4. at 7.30 p.m.