Dot's Little Folk.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22831, 16 March 1936, Page 15

Dot's Little Folk.

u by th.e OTAGO WITNESS

_\y Inaugurated Julij 16,1886,

THE WEEK’S POEM. A boy such as the Later Stone Age boy who describes himself for you to-day, children, might well have thought about the weather as the writer of this " free verse ’’ poem thinks; so I have chosen this poem as being In keeping with our subject. Rain Is a blessing to the earth, but, after a week of It, how happy everybody Is to see the sun again 1 DOT. * ♦ * AFTER THE RAIN. At the end of a week of rain, t A week of darkness, gloomy and drowned The clouds have lifted at last. And the sun breaks through. Afar are the mighty hills Thus seen at length after many days; Clear-cut they shine on the azure heaven, Their snows whlte-gleamlng as never before. Hark how sweetly the birds rejoice, Greeting the sun with exultant shouts. Darting from tree to tree In ecstatic bliss, Towering aloft, or sweeping In swiftest flight down the stream. All the creatures are glad. The flowers lift up their faces again, And the trees, resplendent In fresh-washed green, Are fair new temples set up to the sun. —J. B. Hoyland. THROUGH THE CENTURIES. lII.— ANOTHER LATER STONE AGE BOY. To-day, for the first time my father let me climb aboard bis canoe, scooped out ol * tree trunk with the rough bark left on, and took me fishing. As he paddled across the lake I sorted out the bone /hooks and harpoons and put the twig-woven basket ready for use, and when the canoe came to rest I was allowed to drop a line over the side. On shore the other children waved to us as they watched the herds of goats and oxen, and one of them blew a call on ‘his bone whistle, and the sound floated out to us across the lake. I also saw my uncle ploughing the earth with a wooden polo tipped with the horn of a red deer, so that later he would be able to sow millet and barley and wheat there, to be ground Into bread for us. . , We are back from our fishing expedition now, and are in our house on the lake, our fascinating house raised on piles above the water and connected with the mainland by a causeway. My mother la grinding grain between two stones, and my father, not contented with the fish we caught to-day, is lifting one of the planks of the flooring and lattlng down Into the water another basket woven of twigs, bo that he may catch some more. They are handsome people, my father and mother. Their thick, fuzzy hair Is held In place by long pins of' carved bone, and they wear woven clothes of looac-meshed flax, or garments fashioned out of the hides of the red deer, the ox, and the goat. Round their necks are strings of coloured clay beads. Wood* horn, and stone make our chief weapons and ornaments, but clay Is useful for pretty things like necklaces. My baby brother Is laughing to himself. He Is tethered to the wall by a cord round his ankle, for he Is still so small that he might tumble Into the water If we did not keep an eye on him; and he is playing with two queer little birds moulded out of pink clay which seem to give him great pleasure. Were this not so, ho would be trying to reach the big drum my father beats—leather stretched over an earthenware rim. and as easy to break as It Is hard to carry 1 Or he would wish to crawl to the farther end of the shed where the tame oxen and goats are stabled for the night. On the wooden wall hang the flaxen net with which my father snares birds, and the atone axe and bow with flint-tipped arrows with which he kills the great brown bison when ho goes hunting, or protects us from the cave bear when It comes down to the open ground by the lake. But there are also pottery jars and bowls, slung up by cords passed through their handles. I like our home. It is an amusing and Interesting one, and we are all happy In It. This is the Slone Age, but we are much less primitive than our ancestors who lived in caves. Now wo know hotv to weave, to bake clay and make pottery, to sow corn,, and make flour, and to fashion leather drums and bone whistles with which to make music after sunset, and we are friendly with our animals: my baby.brother has a puppy of his own, and I have a Utile kid that comes when I call to It. What a change, and a happy change, from the old days of constant enmity between man and all the rest of creation! TO ALL. Dear Little Folk, —When we first began this series I told you that the second Stone Age period was called the Neolithic Period or the Megallthic Period, (" Neolithic " means " Later Stone ” ; " Megallthic ” means “ Great Stone.") The reason why It was called Megallthic was because, during that period, the people began to erect great unhewn pillars of stone as a record of events, a memorial, or a landmark. You can read about several such stories In the Old Testament. Cairns made of great heaps of stone, weems or great stone dwellings under the earth, and cromlechs or primitive arches belong to this time, and were all made of unhewn stone. Later, when the people began to gain a knowledge of metals, they were able to make tools that would let them cut the stone, and so make a great temple • like that at Stonehenge In England. I suggest that, this week, you look for a picture of a lake dweller’s village, a staghorn used for ploughing and examples of the great stone Structures which caused this period to be called Megallthic as well as Neolithic.—Your loving DOT. * >1: * I have something .else to say to you before X close. The Old Writers whose Jubilee celebrations are to take place during Winter Show Week (you can read all about It In the notes at the end of Best Letters) wish It to be known that Little Folk will be * welcome to such of the events as are likely to Interest them. So, If any of you want to know what the celebrations are to be like, what form they are taking and what they are to cost, etc., will you please write to the secretary of the Old Writers’ Association—Morning Star (Mrs 'J. Hines, 24 Jackson street, St. Hilda, Dunedin) who will supply you with nil the Information you need? I think that Is all in the meantime.—Your loving DOT. « THE FANCIES OF FERN. ' Something to Amuse the Younger Little Folk, CHAPTER lII.—UP IN THE CORNER. Mr Octavius Smith could never understand how It was that Pern’s eyes, which had given such promise of being a heavenly blue, should, after she was one year old, become a decided green; nor could Mrs Octavius Smith understand how It was that despite persistent brushing, wetting, and twirling over her finger, Fern’s hair should decide not to become gold and curly after all, and Instead begin to grow In dark and straight. “We shall have to put up with it, I suppose," said Mrs Octavius Smith at last, " But I’m terribly disappointed, Pip. She’s going to take after your side of the family after all.” (Mr Octavius Smith’s side not being regarded as the side with the good looks.) “Well, I will admit we’re dark, Jo," said Mr Octavius Smith gallantly, “ but I’m dashed If I’ll admit to eyes of that colour! I’m dashed If I will 1 ” And he spoke truly, for Fern’s eyes were different from any other eyes he had ever seen. Fern said nothing, not yet being at the ago when It was possible for her to carry on a conversation with her parents, but she thought a great deal, and gave a chuckle as she did so, for her thoughts were pleasant ones.

" Walt till I’m eight,” she was thinking, "then they’ll have their hearts’ desire. And they'll be all the more pleased about It because of tho surprise It’s going to be to them. TUI then —my fairy magic ! ” She was not quite sure what the fairy magic was, yet. She knew that she could see things - and hear things her father and mother could not see or hear, but then most babies can do that, so there was no magic in it at all so far. But when she was bigger the magic would take effect, she thought. Just as, In fairyland, the fairy baby's eyes would grow blue and more heavenly, and her hair more golden and curly tho older and bigger she grew to be. "After all,” thought Fern, “I’m not two yet. Wonders don't always happen all In a sudden."

Then she looked up at her corner and forgot all about thinking. It was a corner near the celling In the nursery. Mr Octavius Smith did not know •why, and Mrs Octavius Smith did not know why, but Fern knew why she was always happy when she looked at that corner. It was because there was a fairy house up there and she could see what was going on Inside It—right through the walls Into all the rooms she could look; and she loved looking. Have you ever seen a fairy nursery (tor, of course, that was the room Fern's eyes always went to) ? The walls were made of white rose petals, and on the floor was a pattern of white daisies with yellow centres. The bath was a white eggshell, the towel was made of thistledown, and for soap there was a little drop of Dower scent which had become frozen. There were twins In this nursery—two small elves with pointed cars —and they went to sleep in cradles made of white sea shells. When they woke up they did not cry, but they sang together in high soft voices, and then their fairy mother came in to chbrlsh them. She wore a blue robe and had hair like Fern’s, as dark and

Dot Invites short letters from her young friends throughout the Dominion on matters of Interest to themselves Now members must enclose their name and address. These will not be published, and are for registration purposes only, tittle Folk should write on one side of the paper only, and Id Ink, and should address their letters, " Dot. care of Editor, Otage Dally Times." Dot's Little Folk's Badge, with pin, for use as a brooch, Is obtainable on application to Dot. Price Is Id, la stamps « postal notes.

silky, but long, right to her feet. And when she took her elves out of their cradles and rocked them on her knee she smiled to Fern, and the elves smiled, too, so that Fern crowed and kicked for Joy. " I wish I knew what she found to amuse her In that corner,” said Mr and Mrs Octavius Smith, watching her In amazement. (To bo continued.) LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK Motto.—We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves. FIRST LETTERS. Dear Dot, —May I Join your happy band of Little Folk? I am ten years old, and in Standard V, and I also learn music, and shall be going In for an examination at the end of the year. I am a blue platinum blonde, and I am 4ft 51n high. Love to all and your own dear self. ANOTHER PLATINUM BLONDE (Waitatt). [As yours Is similar to another Little Folk’s nora do plume, dear, I have called you Another Platinum Blonde. Welcome to the band.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —Please may I Join your happy band of Little Folk? I have a big, fat cat. One evening he climbed up a tree to a bird’s nest. He put hla paw in apd took out all the little birds, and sat on the branch and ate them all up. Beat love. RAGGLETOG (Kakamii). [What a sad ending to a promising family, Raggletog 1 Indeed, you may Join the happy band.—DOT.] # * * Dear Dot, —May X Join yooir band of Little Folk? I am 11 years old, and in Standard IV at school. I have always been Interested In your page. I have a little kitten which Is black and grey In colour. Will you please give me a name for it? I have a bantam with four little chickens. I will close now, with kind regards to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. LILY BELL (Pembroke). [Certainly you may Join, Lily Bell. Call the kitten Smudges, and tell mo more about It and the bantam family.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —May I Join your happy band of Little Folk? I am eight years of age, and in Standard II at school. I have one little sister who has Just begun school. I live on a farm. As this Is my first letter I will Close, with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. ELFIN BUTTERCUP (Waikoualtl). [You chose another Little Folk’s name, Elfin Buttercup, so I have had to alter it a little. Certainly you may Join. —DOT.] !{. .y. * Dear Dot, —Please may I Join your happy band of Little Folk? I am 14 years old, and In Standard VI. We have a Jersey cow called Lass. My great ambition Is to become a dressmaker. I am making a little girl’s dress at school. Great love to the Little Folk and yourself. LITTLE SCOTCH THISTLE (Waltati). [I am pleased to welcome you, Little Scotch Thistle, and hope you will realise your ambition without undue difficulty.— DOT.] * ¥ * Dear Dot, —I would like to become a member of your band. I am 14 years of age, and I am In Form IV at school. I go to the Mosgiel High School. I have two sisters. We have two cows, but I do not milk either of them, as I cannot milk. Some of my school mates are members of your band. As this Is my first letter, I will stop, with much love to all the Little Folk and yourself. A PATROL LEADER (Wlngatul). [Do you Intend to learn how to milk, A Patrol Leader? I am pleased to welcome you.—DOT.] BEST LETTERS. Dear Dot, —Regarding the Best Letter idea, I regretfully find, like an Old Writer who so thoughtfully expressed hla opinion in the issue specially allotted to Old Writers, that It is not totally a success. Of course, this Is my own personal opinion. I will admit that the standard of the letters has improved considerably; In fact, wo have what one might call amateur authors among our Little Polk. Unfortunately, some have gone ter the extreme and become very classical, too much so for the average taste in young people. Historical and geographical information, providing It is not what may be found by studying one’s text books, Is of an educational and useful nature; stirring episodes of one’s adventures are ideal; detailed or even brief accounts of one’s experience are Interesting; ghostly tales of one’s fears and dreads are unusual and captivating; heart-breaking stories are mournful and sympathetic. Best of all are those childish descriptions of the pets, Interests, or mishaps, which arc so Innocently simple. Their plain statements of dally interests suggest simplicity themselves. Unfortunately, since the Best Letters have been Introduced, such delightful letters have not appeared so frequently in our well-patronised columns. Maybe It Is because the little tots do not consider themselves able enough to attempt such undertakings. It la -quite apparent that these types of letters do not respond to replies only; for you, too, Dot. like these childish delights so earnestly related by the smaller Little Folk, who, I am sure, make careful attempts to be successful In their efforts. What Importance to tiny correspondents to write to Dot, and what overwhelming happiness to find their letters printed 1 Maybe the younger members of our band do not write so frequently since the Introduction of Best Letters, because of dissappointment. However, they should not regard the subject in that manner. Owing to the word limit I must close, hoping to find more letters by the younger ones In the near future. Kindest regards to all. DAPHNE DE ORE (Balclutha). [Do you really think It Is because of disappointment that the younger Little Folk do not write, Daphne de Ore? But surely that Is not so! The page has room for everybody, and everybody is encouraged to write in it. This letter of yours Is a very good one, expressing exactly what I mean when I talk about “ Best Letters,” and If the Little Folk read it, they will see what a wide field of Ideas they have to wander In. I have answered your Inquiry in To All, and thank you for your letter. —DOT.] sg # -f Dear Dot, —I read the first of your new series of stories with great Interest, and I know I will enjoy the other stories In the series. It Is the archaeologist and the anthropologist we have to thank for much of our knowledge about the world in the dim past, and though It Is almost unbelievable, it Is possible to. see one of those huge mammoths that are mentioned in the first story. The mammoth is mounted in the museum at Lenigrad, in Russia, and some years ago archaeologists dug it from the frozen earth of the Siberian tundra, and its flesh was so well preserved that it was still eatable, but I doubt if anyone wished to sample it. There are many other branches of science besides archaeology and anthropology that help to reveal the early history of the earth and Us inhabitants, but we are Inclined to forget them, for the reason that we do not hear very much about them. There Is still a large amount of archaeological work to bo done in many parts of the world, especially in the Mayan ruins, In the Yucatan forests, in Central America, and amongst the burled cities of Syria. Amongst the natives in the Interior of New Guinea and the pygmies In Africa there seems to be a large field tor research Into their tribal customs. As science marches on these lanes of research are gradually narrowing, and perhaps the day will come when there will be no more work for the archaeologist and his scientific brethren who delight in digging up the past. A YOUNG NEW ZEALANDER (Dunedin). [Thank you for your appreciation and your Interesting additions, A Young New Zealander, I wonder If you could send In your letters a day earlier henceforth. Then they will not be too late for the Issues for which they aro intended. —DOT.] * -r- * Dear Dot, —1 suppose that nearly all of us make a hobby of collecting something or other, be it books or butterflies. 1 also have the collecting craze, my principal weakness being programmes, of which I have managed, during the past few years to amass a collection of about 150 —a small enough number when compared with the thousands that aro Issued annually. Now what happens to all i our programmes? Not only do the picture theatres issue hundrds every week, but every ; musical or theatrical event Is the cause of | a similar publication. People go to a theatre and pay threepence for a programme which they either leave lying on the seat (this being a Scotch community, that does not happen very often) or else take home to read and then consign to the flames. For every programme kept, about 50 are burned or left lying about, where they become only nuisances and are thrown out. After all, the programme Is our one link with plays wo have seen In times past, and people like myself, who are fond (perhaps too fond) of dwelling on the events of days gone by, generally horde up their treasures with care. What interests mo most of ail aro the programmes I sometimes receive from London, and I think that, taken all round, you got a better threepence-worth In the theatres of the Great Metropolis than hero In Dunedin. In fact, I doubt if I have ever purchased a programme locally which gave full value for the money in Information

concerning the play and Its author. Most of them I read right through In five minutes, advertisements and all. CHARLES DICKENS (Dunedin). [I know other people who like collecting programmes, Charles Dickens, and who also prefer those from overseas to our local ones. Maybe nn Improvement In the latter could bo devised by somebody.—DOT.] % tk * Dear Dot, —Here we are again, Dot. 1 have not written to you for a long time, but I have managed to write at last. 1 have a red calf, and I used to ride It at Christmas time. I would very much like you to name it for me, please. We are back at school again, and we have had our school picnic. It was on February 7. It was held at Timaru, and I went, too. I had a lovely time, but It started to rain at lunch time, so it was very cold all day. My elder sister has joined your club, and we both joined it at the samo time. She Is going to a flower show near Dnntroon. She and I both entered for four things. Love to all. DAISY DAWN (Duntroon). [I am glad bo hear from you, Daisy Dawn, and hope you will let me know how you fared at the flower show. I have posted the badge. Call your calf Carry.—DOT,] •V V V Dear Dot, —I feel ashamed at writing to you after all those months of neglect to your page, and hope you will still have me as one of your Little Folk. I spent my holidays In Timaru again this year, and I do love Caroline Bay, especially during Christinas week when the concert party, the side shows, and all the other amusements are there. I had great fun on the scoota boats, which wore a new attraction for young and old. I am In Standard IV, and shall be ten years old on March IS. I am to sit for a music examination In June In Dunedin. My brother, Walla Walla, sends his love to you and all the Little Folk. I must close now, dear Dot, and mum says I don’t deserve an answer for being so long In writing. Love to your dear self and all the Little Folk. SCOTCH LASSIE OF ‘WOODSIDE (Woodside). [Perhaps you will write more regularly In the future, Scotch Lassie of Woodside, In order to make up for your long silence. Caroline Bay must have been Jolly. What aro scoota boats like?—DOT.] ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I suppose you aro thinking it is about time I wrote again to the page. Biddy Maloney’s Son and 1 have named our pets. We call our pigeons Topsy and Turvy, Turvy being mine. Cheeky and Fluff aro kittens, and belong to my younger brother and sister. When I slept out on the veranda, through tho night the kittens would come and walk all over mo. One night I was dozing off, and suddenly I felt someone pulling at my pillow. I awoke then, but kept silent, as I thought It was Biddy Maloney's Son trying to frighten me. I still felt this tugging at my pillow, so I turned round suddenly, and I could make out Fluff, the kitten, on my pillow. I was relieved, but I shooed the kitten quickly away. Love to all. BIDDY MALONEY’S DAUGHTER (South Canterbury). [This Is the sort of letter I like, Biddy Maloney’s Daughter; and It was not hard to write, was it? Send mo another like it very soon so that other Little Folk may follow your example.—DOT.] & S|< * Dear Dot, —Spasmodic outbursts, I fear, are the result of pent-up emotions. And the cause? It leads back to poor old Charles Dickens again. Evidently that gentleman (for such I presume he is) does not welcome criticism, even of the lowest degree, but I must congratulate him on his masterly broadside, which was noted with thanks. I admit Charles Dickens Is original, but originality, like many things In this life, can be carried too far. All radical social changes throughout history have generally been met with ridicule In their immediate environments, and music Is no exception to the rule. Charles Dickens seems to think that the only music existing is that composed by consumptive artists with flowing hair and which must go on in the same tuneless and mournful monotony for at least an hour before It can be interesting. A light orchestral number 1s an offence calculated to shake tho very foundations of the musical world. A piece of highbrow music may be interesting to a small section of the Intelligensia who have made the theory of music their lifelong study, but I fall to see why it Is so well appreciated and digested by Charles Dickens. Some people, who evidently wish to make themselves ludicrous, follow highbrow music Just because it is nice to do so. They listen to a piece of this music with an apparently Interested air, and then go home and sleep it off for a few days. They even write about it Just to show how far they are above the common herd. Charles Dickens then attacks me for writing a twosubject letter, making his own effort a twosubject letter minus the paragraphs. Is a two-subject letter such an unpardonable offence? Is it. a faux-pas which forbids me to write the page again? Must I bury my head In the sand and fear to meet my fellow creatures? “ It It were to, 'twero a grievous fault And grievously will Caesar answer it.” RAFFLES (Oamaru). [The one-subject letter was one I brought Into vogue before you became a Little Folk, Raffles, and has been the moans of teaching many Little Folk how to compose a “ Best Letter written for the benefit of others and not for themselves.” I think you have misunderstood Charles Dickens’ appreciation of music, but it so, he will probably have something to say to you himself.—DOT ] * * * Dear Dot, —Tho letter written by Anzac’s Pal reminded me of a time some years ago when I, too, wont to the pictures with a party in a car. Tho night was drizzly, Inn we arrived in Dunedin quite carefree and dry. We parked the. car and wont into the theatre to spend an enjoyable evening as wo thought. It was quite enjoyable until we were about to Journey home, when we discovered that the car wa9 missing. We looked along the line of cars to make sure we had come to the right place, but we could not see it anywhere. Luckily, we were not far from the railway station, and as a train was Just about due, wo decided to go home, leaving tho owner of the car to notify tho police and to wait for my eldest brother, who was to go up to Dunedin on his motor bicycle to help him look for the car. They did not find It that night, bu: next day, as they were going back to town to Inquire about It, they found it over a bank, with a paling through tho windscreen, near Ravensbourne. It appeared that two adventurous young men decided to go for a drive, meaning to put tho car back before We came out of the theatre, but their escapade came to a sudden stop. I will close now, with kindest regards. RANGI, (Sawyers’ Bay). [Your adventure was a worse one than Anzac’s Pal’s, Rang!, for it had an unpleasant aftermath. What a good thing that you were near enough to the railway station to be able to catch a train home. —DOT.] * m ♦ Dear Dot, —I rather fancy our friend Raffies has bitten off a little more than ho can swallow this time, although I admire him very much for daring to attack a person with Charles Dickens’ ability for writing. No doubt this week there will bo numerous attempts to console Charles Dickens after his outburst last week, but I think that he is quite capable of looking after himself. For my part I share similar views as regards musical opera, although I am less fortunate in not being able to attend all the splendid productions which have been in Dunedin lately. Perhaps, however, It is just as well I cannot, for I can now sii back every Monday and read with delight Charles Dickens’ letters which appi aregularly as clockwork. The three qualities I appreciate most in the Little Folk’s e . .s are originality, satire, and humour, and for a combination of these three, 1 say. w .; u hesitation, “ Hats off to Charles Dickens.” 1 only hope that Charles Dickens, even though he is entering upon a " wordy debate,” will not forget those who do appreciate his letters by failing to givo impressions of ” White Horse Inn.” In conclusion, I wonder what subject Raffles will choose for tho debate. I should Imagine he will steer clear of music, not wishing to have Charles Dickens’ sarcasm vented upon that worthless class of so-called singers known as crooners, nor yet wishing to contradict him in the wide knowledge of his favourite hobby. Kind regards. CURLY PHYL (Otago). [This whole matter la very personal, Curly Phyl, but as It Is being taken in good part, I am not objecting. I. have no Idea whether tho debate in question will come Into being. —DOT.] ''l* 'l* Dear Dot, —This cold weather we are having is reminding me of what Is before us in winter. It Is not all fun getting out of bed on a told, frosty morning and dressing for school, although dressing Is not tho worst part. Going out and facing tho elements to catch our tricky pony, which is always away In the farthest corner of tho farthest away paddock every time wo want her, Is perhaps the worst. We do not always enjoy our three miles’ drive, either, as the lazy little pony seems to trot along in the same place all tho time, while wo sit freezing. I will close now, with tho best of luck to the Little Folk and your own dear self. FLORIZELLA THE VIOLINIST (Kakanul). [More, prithee, more. Florlzclla tho Violinist. That tricky pony has caught my Imagination and made mo want to hear much more about it.—DOT.] rfi V V Dear Dot, —I quite agree with Charles Dickens about this business of criticising th# Little Folk’s letters, and I do not think It Is tiilr, especially for the sake of tho younger members. Surely we do not wish our beloved page to become one to which tho members will write only when they wish to “ pull someone to pieces.” As Charles Dickens says, everyone is entitled to hla or her own Ideas and hobbles. He is interested In music, and so am I, although my love of music is different from his. I am fond of modern music, but, because my liking differs from hla, I would no more think of criticising him or his letters than I would my dearest friend. Then again about tho stamp letters, I am not a stamp collector, nor am I Interested in stamps, but there are members who are Interested, and I enjoy tho letters because 1 realise they bring pleasure and help not only to the reader, but to the writers also. Personally I think we older members should set a better example to our younger Little Folk. We all know that age makes a difference to the composition of a letter: to a certain extent it must. Then let. us stop to think about It. Maybe it will bo that there aro the young ones, perhaps even the older folk, who would write, but do not because

someone might not like their letters, and would write to von about their grievance. Little Folk. I beg of you, let us pull together and make our page something to be proud of. It is dear to us ail: then show that you are proud of It, and still prouder of our dear Dot. Love to the Little Folk and your dear self. A BLUB TRIANGLE GIRL (Dunedin). [Well spoken, A Blue Triangle Girl. You make a strong and sensible bid for a peaceful atmosphere, and I thank you for It. But the wordy warfare at present being waged Is not really serious, so all is well.—DOT.] sj< >!< Dear Dot, —I wonder why some Little Folk use such “ hard ” words In all their letters. Every Monday evening I read the Little Folk’s letters to my two small nephews, always mentioning the name ot the Little Folks before reading their letters. When 1 first read some Little Folk’s letters to my nephews they would look blankly at me, not understanding, and I would have to go to a lot ot bother explaining the words, etc. Lately, when I have come to one of these letters my nephews just say, “ Oh skip that letter, wo don’t avant to hear it. Not a very nice thing to say, but I think it explains what most ot the junior Little Folk feel In regard to such letters. I suggest that the Little Folk I am speaking about when next writing to our page first look at the Little Folk’s page. Just above the First Letters and under the words Letters from Little Polk they will sea the Little Folk’s motto, “ We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves.” I have mentioned just where the motto “ lives,” because I do not think some ot them have ever noticed It. If they had they would think of the junior ns well as the senior Little Folk whilst writing to the page, and so be sure of doing their duty to the motto and writing a letter that everyone will enjoy. Kind regards. KING FOIL (Ranfurly). [Of course. King Foil, there Is room In the page for old as well as young writers, and both have to write according to their age and tastes. But I do agree with you that a simple word Is always to be preferred to one that is hard to understand. — DOT.] » * -K Dear Dot, —After having the ride on the lake wo set off for Ross. We camped five miles out of Ross. On Saturday morning we set out for Greymouth, passing through Ross, Hokitika, and then Greymouth at 1 o’clock. We camped Saturday night here and went to church on Sunday morning, and then set off for Otlra again, arriving there at 8.30 p.m. Wo pitched our tents on the side of the road and went to bed early, because we were going to walk from Otlra to Arthur’s Pass next morning. On Monday morning we rose early, had breakfast, put the bus in a truck, and all but live, who went with the car, set off walking. The distance, I think, is about eight miles, which w'e walked in four hours. It 1s a very steep, hilly road.— One hill Is four miles long. We then had dinner, and caught the train for Springfield, leaving at 1.30 p.m. and arriving at Springfield at 3.45 p.m. We untrucked the bus and set off for Christchurch, arriving there at 6.30 p.m. We camped the night in the Christchurch camping grounds. On Tuesday morning we looked round the big city, and set off for home at 12 o'clock. What a busytown Christchurch is compared with little Oamnru. Wo arrived at Oaraaru at C o’clock in a heavy rain, but that made little difference to our ever-remembered trip. Well, Dot. this Is only a brief account ot the trip. I woujd take up too much room it I explained everything. Love to yourself and all the Little Folk. PERIWINKLE PETER (Otago). [lt Is an account which lets me know that you had a very enjoyable time. Periwinkle Peter, and makes mo hope you will write again soon with more of such Information.—DOT.] * * » Dear Dot, —One morning before the family had awakened December Roses and I decided to go and look for some mushrooms. Quietly we dressed, and cautiously we opened the door for fear we would awaken everybody. Once outside we had to run quickly, because there was a hard frost. Tho world was sleeping In a blanket of mist, and we soon lost sight ot the house. After a few minutes’* search wo had our basket half full, so wo started tor home. Just as we reached the gate we saw the smoko beginning to curl lazily up to the sky. Having prepared tho mushrooms, wo all sat down to breakfast feeling very hungry after our morning walk. Kind regards to all. IRIS LILY (Henley). (What a pleasant account to read about, Iris Lily. 1 am sure no mushrooms ever tasted more delicious than those you picked that early morning.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—Let me describe the scene before me. The recent rains have changed the once pretty scene to one that is slightly grey, though not altogether ugly. The only green things are the fields ot grass and a few scattered macrocarpa trees, giving the onlooker a marked suggestion of winter. Away in the distance, their majestic peaks enveloped in a dense fog, stand the Maungatua Hills, while below them one has a panoramic view of the plain as it unfolds Itself into miles and miles ot grassland. Drawing ray gaze to nearer surroundings I can seo a paddock of stocks waiting for the threshing mill and fine weather to finish the work begun by the farmer. How disheartning it must be tor tho farmer who. after his year’s labour, has the misfortune to have a wet harvest season. Now I turn my gaze to the sky, which is, except for a few blue spaces, completely overcast, which tells us raj u is stiil near. These same clouds seem to hasten the oncoming night, and as I watch, all the scenes in front of me change and I can hardly distinguish one thing from another. Fondest love to all. TRIXIE OF TAIERI (Taleri). [I like your scene, Trixie ot Taierl. Y’ou have seo that it can be beautiful in shadow as well ns in sunshine, and have made me see it too. —DOT.] Dear Dot, —Tho book arrived safely. I am sorry I have been -so long in thanking you for such a nice prize; it was a pleasant surprise for me. One evening my little brother and I were having a game in the paddock, when up flew a little bird. Ever so high it Hew. I know it was a lark, so we hunted around to find its nest. There it was in a big tuft of grass. Such a neat little nest it was, with three eggs in it. Little Cliff was so delighted, he wanted to run home and tell mum all about it, so we marked the place and set off for home. Since then the little birds have been hatched out of the eggs, and have flown away, too. Best love to all. DAD’S ASSISTANT (Henley). [This, too, is a good letter. Dad’s Assistant. How glad you must have felt to have a lark’s nest to observe day by day!—DOT.] ¥ -V- * ’ Dear Dot, —I will tell you about tho ducks. We had two settings of ducks’ eggs given to us. We let two black hens sit on them. In four weeks wo saw the little heads peeping out from underneath the mothers. When they were about a week old dad made a run for them. Each hen had ten ducks, and we let one hen look after them all. It is fun watching tho ducks eating their mash. Wo put a tub ot water in for them to swim in, and boards up to tho top so they could walk up and get into the water. The ducks thought it great fun swimming, and there wore as many as seven in at a time. They are big now, and there are ten drakes. Love to all. RIVER BANK LASS (Oamaru). [I knew you could make a good letter about those ducks, River Bank Lass. I wish I could have seen them swimming in their tub. They must have been very amusing.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I am going to tell you about the gyrotlller. The gyrotlllcr is a bigthing which weighs 27 tons. It has one big wheel, and on both sides ot the gyrotlllcr are caterpillars. There are big spikes which go round and round under tho ground, stirring it up. It works all night and all day. It makes a terrible noise and prevents us from going oft to sleep. My cousin and I pumped 8S gallons into it. Love to all. BONZO’S BROTHER (Oamaru). [Thank you for telling me, Bonzo’s Brother. I had not heard tho thing described before. See Notes, —DOT.] >£ :Jt Dear Dot,—Does Charles Dickens expect to have everything to his own liking? You asked a while ago why letters were not coming in so regularly? The trouble with the page is this: Most of those who write regularly, such as Charles Dickens, write, as they arc wanted to, all on the one subject. By the time their letters come to a close tho reader is tired of so much on one subject. I know I am. We want more letters like Radies, bright and snappy, not too much on ouo subject, letters that are enjoyable to read and come as a surprise. But these are not being submitted. Instead, as regularly as clockwork, and almost mechanically, we find letters from Charles Dickens and others. We know what to expect before we look, and tho reading ot them each week 1s purely out of force of habit, not because of their interest. Charles Dickens is not the only one to be considered. Remember file motto. When Ralllles criticised him, Charles Dickens naturally protested in selfdefence. So what i suggest is tills: What about having a debate on the subject, and I trust that most of tho Little Folk, at any rate, those Interested, will lot us know what they think about it. I am eager to read Raifiles’ reply to Charles Dickens’ letter. So come on Raffles, I agree with you. We want real bright, interesting letters, not long essays, reminders of school compositions. PANSY PRIMROSE (Mosglel). [Do you menu that you want a debate on what constitutes a “ Best Letter,” Pansy Primrose? If so, let me know by next week, so that It can bo arranged. After all, the page belongs to you Little Folk, so you may as well have some say in it.—DOT.] * * ;!; Dear Dot, —I am going to tell you about tho Mil ford factory. It was built in 1920, and it is a five-vat factory. Owing to low prices of butter-fat, there have been only four vats in use for the last two seasons. Tho boiler is fired by an Iron fireman. We have not exported cheese this season: it is all sold on the local market. There arc 3G suppliers bringing milk to tho factory. They are supposed to have the milk in by 9 o'clock. I will tell you about how tho cheese is made next time. I will close now, with kind regards. JUMBO JIM (Milford). [I shall like hearing about the making ot the cheese, Jumbo Jim, because I have liked hearing about the factory.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —How' delightful if was to read your page again and see the familiar noma do plume among many new ones. It is several months since last I read your page, us wo have not been getting tho morning

paper in our home, hut now' wo have started with the Otago Daily Times again, and I was very glad to see the Little Folk letters onco more. I have been reading a very interesting book. Nothing unusual In that, you w'lll sav, but it was quite by chance that I stumbled upon it. My sister wanted a book to rend, and found " April’s Lonely Soldier,” by Male. She glanced through it, then put it aside saying that it was all poetry and letters and as dry ns could be. I, having nothing to do, opened it and started to read about halfway through it. What I read was a very interesting and natural letter with several fine extracts of poems by famous composers. So I started at the beginning and read through. I think it was one ot the most humorous and instructive books I have read, with just enougli seriousness to keep one interested. It is comprised of the letters ot twm people—one a lonely subaltern, formerly an author, the other a young schoolmistress, also a rather unsuccessful author—written during the Great War. The letters are put together with a few additional to their respective friends, forming tho story of these two persons’ lives. It is very cleverly written, and is well worth reading. I hope I shall once more be admitted to your page as a Little Folk. KILMENY OF THE POOL (Outram). [Welcome back to the fold, Kllmony of tho Pool. The book you mention sounds so interesting that I must try to find a copy and read it myself.—DOT.] * # * Dear Dot, —I thought I would like to write and tell you about the two pigeons we now have. They paid their first visit to us on New Year’s Day. Wo put some crumbs down for them to eat. They ate them up, stayed a little longer, and then flew away. Next day they came back again, and soon began to stay the whole day. Sometimes they alight on tho root of our house, sitting there for a considerable time cooing. When danger is near they fly away. They cannot be caught, but we can stand right beside them. They eat all kbids of grain, and even pick tho insects from cabbages and lettuces. We have a coop made for them, but they will not go In it. Well, Dot, I will close, with lovo to all. WATER FAIRY r (Roxburgh East). [What charming visitors to descend upon you, Water Fairy 1 You are very fortunate, I think.—DOT.] t'f * Dear Dot, —Once again I take up my pen and write to you. Well, Dot, we all went up to the Upper Clutha Show at Pembroke one Saturday, and had a very enjoyable day. We also waited for tho dance at night, and it also was very good. I shall try to give you a description ot some of the things at the show. They had a good circus there with buck jumpers and steer riding, clowns, and other things as well. The clown was very funny with his tricks. They had a very clever little girl—a contortionist. I shall close now, with love to all the Little Folk and yourself. WILD GUY (Tarras). [I am glad you had so good a time. Wild Guy. Clowhs ought to be amusing and do funny tricks. Would you like to ride a buck-jumper?—DOT.] * t. 4 * Dear Dot,—l have nearly forgotten about you. I have plenty of fun up here, for I go out fishing. There has been a lot of rain up here. The water was nearly up to tho bridge. I was out one night, and I had a fish on about two pounds, and I was Just going to net it when it got away. I felt like jumping in after it. I will close now, with kind regards to all the Little Folk. JIMMY SLAP CABBAGE (Lee Stream). [I wonder if you would have caught it it you had jumped in, Jimmy Slap Cabbage? Probably the fish would have had more fun than you ! —DOT.] # * * Dear Dot, —The world appears to be going from bad to worse. If wo pick up a paper it is covered from front to back with war. murders, political arguments, unemployment difficulties, and our own little disagreements in this page. But why should wo worry, as it is not we who are fighting In tho war, or wo did not commit the latest murder, or we arc not unemployed, or some of us are not —school children are never idle—and as we are not in Parliament wo do not worry about the world affairs; wo are so young we have plenty of other things to think about. Tho Italo-Abyssinian War is a different war altogether just now, as no one has intervened, but the papers show that Germany Is prepared tor warfare. The war is terrible enough just now without being made more so. Nearly every country in the world is ready to start war at a moment's notice, and it they enter into it it will be dreadful, Indeed, as there are many Inventions to add to the horrors ot bloodshed —things never thought of in the last one. Well, perhaps this Is enough of the morbid letter, and next time I shall endeavour to get back to my old style, but the pages about war in the papers recently made me realise life is not all roses, for the thorns are there too. SALOMY JANE (Milton). [As soon as we really look war in the face and cease being insincere about it, Salomy Jane, we shall begin to set working the wheels which will lead to its abolishment. But not until then. So think hard, and see what you can suggest.—DOT.] * * Dear Dot, —This small letter Is to tell you that my cat Billy has a mate ndw. He paid us a visit once before, but this time he has come to stay. He is black and white in colour, and his name is Jack. Billy is not very fond ot him, and sometimes gives him a good thrashing. Poor Jack has only three paws, having lost one sometime in a rabbit tra,p. So he always gets the worst of it. For Christmas Santa Claus brought Crimson Poppy and me a lovely bicycle each, and wo sometimes ride to school. We are going to Owaka to see our cousin this Easter. Now I must close, with lovo to Dot and the Little Folk. GRANDMA WITT (Kyeburn). [What lucky children you were at Christmas time. Grandma Witt! Jack and Billy make a good subject for a letter, do they not?—DOT.] ¥ * ¥ Dear Dot, —Doubtless the name of Dancing Tomboy has faded from your memory. I must now try to bring It back. One day during the holidays I went with two girl friends, Phyllis and Marjorie, to a goldmining claim. It was a very bright day. No wind stirred the leaves of the trees, and the sun blazed in a clear, blue sky. We left home in bicycles at about half-past 9. About halfway Marjorie found that she had a flat tyre. On examining it closely we realised that is was punctured. . Fortunately, Coal Creek inhabitants are very helpful, so soon we were racing along as merrily ns ever. Before arriving at tho claim we had to cross the ■ swing bridge. I enjoy running lightly over it. It is very peaceful on a calm day to look .down on the swiftly flowing River Clutha. I like to drop something over the bridge and watch it falling through space, then to land with a alight splash in the rapid waters. At the end of tho bridge, under the steps, is a large stone slab. Wo sat down there to regain our breath and to lose our great excess of warmth. To reach tho claim, we had to tramp right through n field of turnips, past the dam, and across n grassy paddock. Leaving our lunch and other things at the hut, wo went down into tho claim. There we found tho men, one busy at the nozzle the other at the boxes watching for blockages. For a while we played about the nozzle, letting the water run over our fingers until they were red with the cold. Wo tried to undermine part of the bank, but did not continue playing the nozzle on it long enough. DANCING TOMBOY (Roxburgh). [Y’ou have been a stranger to the page tor so long that you do not know that our word limit is 300, Dancing Tomboy. I have, therefore, divided your letter in half. —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —It is a few months since I last wrote. Our baby does not cry much now. Ho Is quite a good wee fellow. He is very rough. He has knocked all his rattles about till he has broken every one ot them. He is just starting to creep. He can say dad and mum. He is a bit cheeky. It is Just his feed time now, and mum has gone away to get him. He laughs a lot now. Lovo to yourself and all tho Little Folk. GREY OWLET (Kyeburn). [How dear of you to tell me about so likable a little boy, Grey Owlet! I can see how fond of him you are. —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —It is a long time ago since I last wrote to you. One Monday morning when I awoke at a very early hour everything was covered with snow. Tho trees were drooping down with tho snow. The flowers and bushes were almost lying down. Ouo after another wo heard the branches breaking off tho trees. The roads were terribly slushy with melted snow. Well, this will have to do now. Love to yourself and all the Little Folk. DANCING DAFFODIL (Kyeburn). [Snow at this time of the year, Dancing Daffodil? What 1s the clerk of the weather thinking about! —DOT.] ¥ ¥ , ¥ Dear Dot, —As it is a long time since I wrote to you, I have made up my mind to do it now. I am just wondering how many ot tho Little Folk like school. I think it is a great pleasure to bo at school. Each year one learns all tho different kinds of work. Although I am not very brilliant at school myself. I am waiting for the day to come when I shall be. The children do not like the strap, but If there were no straps, tho teacher would not bo able to get any work out ot the children. Well, Dot, I prefer school best of all. I will close now, with heaps of love to tho Little Folk and your own dear self. MY BONNY BLUEBELL (Clinton). [Good Little Folk, My Bonny Bluebell. I am glad you like school so well and are able to write a letter about it. —DOT.] •v. -V- ¥ Dear Dot, —I wonder what cats do with their spare time, which- is a great deal. They oat, sleep, and fight their fellow kind, this being their dally round. A good lot of their time is spout in making dreadful nuisances ot themselves by loitering about under one’s feet, consequently being stood upon. Then uttering frightful yells, they disappear round the corner, only to reappear just when tho housewife is rejoicing, to repeat the same performance. All they want when they employ these drastic methods is food, ever food. Y'ou would think that they would have enough sense to catch their own food instead ot having to bear the pain and humiliation of a trodden-on tail before gaining their object, but cats are all fur (and sometimes not oven that) and without useful brains. Everything about a cat is sly—when it hides behind a sofa of the room in which it Is not allowed to spend the night, when it slinks away with a fillet of fish which you I

Red Lips (Thelma Jones, Box 52, Kanfurly) writes :—“ A Canadian Little Folk sent mo a number of stamps of different countries. He wants me to exchange them

have carefully prepared, or when It tries to pretend that it has not committed a crime, which it undoubtedly has. I like cats best when they are curled up at the foot of the bed in repose. Kindest regards to all. FLOYVERING CHERRY (Oamaru).

[Does that mean that they are really not favourite animals of yours, Flowering Cherry? I like the description of them behind the sofa In the forbidden room. — DOT ’ 3 * * ¥

Dear Dot—We have not had very good weather here, considering it is autumn, but winter will soon bo taking her place at the •• throne of seasons.” One night I went outside, and who should be staring me in tho face but the moon. Ot course, it drew my attention for a while, you may be sure. Some say that the moon consists of hundreds of countries, others say that it consists ot merely mountains. YVhoever to believe, I do not know, but it must be something that we seo so often in the moon. It looks really beautiful against tho darkened sky, while now and again it pops behind a cloud as it It were playing hide and seek. , The traveller, too, finds tho moon guiding him. Now comes the question of colour. Perhaps you may have heard tho song, ” Silver Moon, but the moon is not silver, but golden. Sometimes we may see a dark ring round it. This is a sure sign of bad weather, but I am glad to say that that night no ring circled it. Therefore, next morning was as bright, calm, and warm ns a real autumn day, so I had a feeling that this was not our last warm day. Before I close I shall give you a piece of poetry I made up. It is called “ The Grass.” “ Tho grass that’s growing on the lawn Is dewy on a summer’s morn; The grass that's growing ’neath the tree Is the grass the hot sun cannot see.” Love to you and your Little Folk. AMBER BUTTERFLY (Oamaru).

[X like the verse and I like tho description of tho moon, Amber Butterfly. Why not try to put that description into verse too? —DOT.]

Dear Dot, —One Friday mum and dad took me, George, and Frank to tho vaudeville. Wo saw a girl dressed up ns a skeleton and another as a band player. .There were three men dressed as clowns. One would be standing on the table and tho other two would come up from tho two sides and leap under him as he jumped in the air. As I have no more news to tell you, I shall close now, with love. LITTLE RAILWAY MAN (Omiml).

[What amusing clowns, Little Railway Man! Were the two girls performing too? —DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥

Dear Dot, —I wonder how many Little Folk have been out looking for mushrooms lately. It is great fun to make for the fields optimistically armed with a big gaping basket while most people are still in bed, and even the hills are snugly wrapped in their blanket bf morning mist.* One tramps along towards the likely paddocks through grass that is wet with dew. A fence is climbed, and then begins a search in a paddock that really does look as if it were trying to hide something. I like the elusive mushroom, the one that peeps at the world from underneath a thistle, for after all it does not give much satisfaction to pick one that is standing on one leg on a rise, loudly begging .to be picked. A scramble up a slippery hill to find that the white dot is just a toadstool is not without its compensation. The view below, for we are on Cape Wanbrow’, is well worth climbing to see. The slumbering town is just waking, and is solemnly puffing clouds of smoke from its chimneys. The blue-grey sea is a little restless, and rolls lazily towards the shore. A fishing boat ploughs a foaming white course across the harbour as it chuggp its way to the open sea. A basket that is not yet full demands another search in a fresh field. A brown and white cow hangs her head over a fence and moodily stares at us as she vacantly chews her cud. How could she look so bored and unconcerned with so many white eyes peeping from the green carpet of her homo! As breakfast time draws near we leave tho country, and our muddy shoes go crunch, crunch along the road that leads to town. SQUIRREL (Oamaru). [You, too, find pleasure in mushroom picking. Squirrel. You will find another Little Folk giving impressions on tho same subject, and, like you, faking great pleasure In doing so.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —We had our school picnic some three weeks ago at Riverton. It was a lovely day, and the sea was nice and warm. I also had a ride in the launch, and I enoyed it very much. I saw a penguin under a jetty. It was only a small one, very stupid looking, but very pretty, having neither feathers nor fur. There was a number of us all round it looking at it, but it did not even seem to see us. We gave it an iced cake to eat, but it did not seem to see that either. Perhaps it was thinking of its companions very many miles away. The seagulls are very tame, and will come right up to one for crumbs and cakes. After a plunge in the sea we went shopping, and I bought a pig all made of soap and some plums for dad. On the way home in the train we saw a number of bunnies In the paddocks, also men harvesting. About 9 o’clock we arrived home tired with our enjoyable day’s outing. Best love to all. AUNTIE’S GIRLEEN (Otago). [Probably tho penguin was sick and lonely. Auntie's Girleen, and needing a mother to look after it. I think the soap pig must be a very pleasant bath companion. and will often remind you of your happy day.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —I had a lovely holiday at Kaka Point at Christmas camping out. What fun it was! I had never been there before. Wo had our camp in the bush, and it was lovely. Every day we went bathing. Sometimes wo wont fishing on the rocks, and caught a few. One day wo walked to the lighthouse, a long way, but very pleasant. Wo took a photograph of it. and it turned out very well. Sometimes the sea looks green, and sometimes blue, and when the sun is rising it makes a golden pathway right across the water. While watching it, I could not help wishing the queen would give mo a ship like Columbus had In our history lesson, and let me sail on and on in search of adventure to see tho world for myself. But perhaps an aeroplane would be better, with myself tho pilot and you, dear Dot, my passenger. Best love to all. DETECTIVE TEDDY (Otago). [So you would take me with you, Detective Teddy? How kind of you! Yes, let it be an' aeroplane, and bo sure we have comfortable helmets on our heads.—DOT.] # * * Dear Dot, —Just lately the weather has been simply awful. On Monday morning I awoke to tho rain pelting down on my windows and the wind whistling round the house frightfully. It was so lovely and cosy in bed that I simply dreaded the idea of getting up and running round making ready for school, but suddenly I realised I had better, as I heard mother singing out, “ Haven’t any of you children got the slightest idea of going to school at all to-day?’ “ Yes, mother, coming,” I called, as I regretfully jumped out of bed and slipped into my clothes. Just on the road outside my house a man told me it was Impossible for me to go to school, as the road was flooded, so I had to turn back, and I could not help but think of the lovely warm bed I had left all for nothing. Love to all. CATRIONA (Waltati). [What a shame, Catrlona! But If you had not jumped out then, you would have had to do it later, so perhaps ey er y t “*"B turned out for the best after all! —DOT.] OLD WRITERS’ ASSOCIATION. At a meeting of the committee ot the Ola Writers’ Association on December 19. 1933 it was decided to hold a reunion durlnp Winter Show Week in June, 1936, to cele brate the fiftieth anniversary of Dot’s Little Folk page. It was further decided that there should bo a nominal tee of one shilling for membership, and that anyone, whethei an Old Writer or not, desirous of maklne a donation could do so, all subscriptionsand donations, accompanied by name, address and nom de plume, to be acknowledged in tht Little Folk’s page fortnightly after being received by the secretary at her address 24 Jackson street. St Kllda Dunedin >!« * * The next social of tho Old Writers’ Association will be held in the Radiant Hall (corner St. Andrew and King streets) on Monday. March 16, at 8 p.m. (Subject to approval of committee to-morrow evening.) OLD WRITERS’ NOTES. Indian Chief, president of the Old Writers Association (Mr Jas. T. Ramsay, 24 Neldpath road, Mornlngton. Dunedin) ; and Morning Star honorary secretary (Mrs J Hines, 24 Jackson street, St. Klida Dunedin), are endeavouring to complete n 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 noms dc plume, and, where possible, year of first writing to Dot. Acknowledgments will hr made periodically in tills column. OUR NEW MEMBERS. Dot extends a special welcome to the following Little Folk who have written to the page for the first time this week Another Platinum Blonde, Ragglctag, Lily Bell, Little Scotch Thistle, A Patrol Leader. NOTES. Bonzo’s Brother. —Write to Mary D. Rowley Frobisher, Saskatchewan, Canada, or Fred Whiting, Frobisher, Saskatchewan, Canada. Pansy Primrose. —I do not conduct that column* now, but I wish you a happy day, all the same. UQT »: * Babies’ Nurse Girl, —See to-day’s Letter BOX ’ DOT. LITTLE FOLK’S LETTER BOX. As the Little Folk inserting the following requests do not know the addresses of the companions with whom they wlali to correspond, it is necessary that those companions should send the first letter. DOT

for used New Zealand stamps, so I would be pleased if some. Little Folk would let me have some of New Zealand, also leave them on the paper, and not send any that aro torn. If they enclose a stamped, addressed envelope I shall send foreign stamps in rcturn. Water Fairy (Elsie Stringer, c/o W. W. Stringer. Roxurgh East) would like to correspond with any Little Folk between the ages of 11 and 13.

Miss Delia B. Grenier, Hasketh, Alberta, Canada, wishes for a New Zealand correspondent. She is IS. Eva Miller, Loreburn, Saskatchewan, Canada, aged 18, would like a correspondent who saves stamps. Philomel L. Woningcr, Box 10c Allan, Saskatchewan, Canaria, would very much like a correspondent. She will be 19 In June. Genevieve Schoff, Lugden, Alberta, Canada, would like a correspondent interested in film stars. Katie Stuesser, Cavet, Saskatchewan, Canada, wishes for a correspondent about 16 years of age. _ ~ Anna Lutz, Bruce, Alberta, Canada, would like a correspondent who exchanges pictures of film stars. She is 18 years af age. Hazel Newman, White Bear, Saskatchewan. Canada, would like a correspondent who likes horses and outdoor sports. Edwyna Koloski, Meachara, Saskatchewan, Canada, wishes for a correspondent who likes singing and saving pictures of film stars. She is 16 years of age. Michael Gnyp, Box 57, Haraton, Saskatchewan, Canada, wishes for a correspondent in New Zealand. He is 19 years of age.