Dots Little Folk

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23045, 23 November 1936, Page 15

Dots Little Folk

THE WEEK'S POEM Louis the Dauphin, whom you will read about in " Through the Centuries" today, children, was very fond of animals and birds, so I think these two poems about linnets and mice are particularly suitable. DOT. * * * . TWO BIRDS A linnet in a gilded cage— A linnet on a bough— In frosty winter one might doubt Which bird is luckier now. But let the trees burst out in leaf, And nests be on the bough, Which linnet is the luckier bird, Oh, who could doubt it now? —Christina Rossetti. w * * TWO MICE The city mouse lives in a house, The garden mouse lives in a bower, He's friendly with the frogs and toads, And sees the pretty plants in flower. The city mouse eats bread and cheese, The garden mouse eats what he can; We will not grudge him seeds and stalks, Poor little timid, furry man. I —Christina Rossetti. THROUGH THE CENTURIES All I can suggest for your scrap books this week, my Little Folk, is a picture of .Louis the Dauphin, so that you will be able to see what sort of a boy he was. There is a famous one of him seated on a horse. * * # XIII.—THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY ■ BOY (Continued.) On the other side of the English Channel another young heir-apparent was passing through childhood to boyhoodLouis the Dauphin, afterwards King Louis XIII of France. With him Henry had exchanged stately letters and gifts of horsetguns, and hounds. The letters were probably composed by the poys respective tutors, but the gifts must have made each prince seem, very real to the other. The two boys were quite unlike each, other. While Henry was tall, handsome, and graceful, Louis was an un-cWldsh-looking little fellow, heavily built, with a tongue too arge for his mouth, reddish hair, and cold, dark eyes. His father cared little for mere bookish learning, but it pleased him to see his son drfnk wine, and eat oysterg like a man, and stand the sound of gunfire, without flinching, like a soldier. Whipping, though perhaps not very severe formed an important part of his Sing He also had to learn to jump over ditches, to hand his father's cup to him at table, to receive bishops gravely and ambassadors with smiling P°ht°ness, and to hold out his small hand with a gSod grace for the bristling salutes of moustached courtiers. Hiffimilt Lessons were not made very dime"" for the little prince, and dancing seems to have been one of the most important. For toys he had drums, guns, trumpets, and little clay monkeys, withi whichhe played military games. He also had a r us f&s«^ % *SI have been to play at various grown-up «"sometimes he would gather his brothers and pages around him and, pre tend to hold a council like P»W- *J nthpr times he would say that the carpei was the sea, and swim % sail across it £ pretend to be an astrologer a robber. nr a runaway horse. When he was oniy t°hree years olda strolling troupe wnuHuh actors paid a visit to the paiact. gave a Performance at which he was present. The mw Dauphin listened patiently to the unThree days later he was striding anew with his pinafore wound round his head. Growling out. "Tiph. toph, my lord." and faying that he was an English actor I (Tp be continued.) THE FANCIES OF FERN Something to Amuse the Younger Little Folk. Tn autumn the whole world seemed to be glided. The flew from place to Si««T whispering secrets, and the birds Ove? the hills the mists gathered and spread themselves across the sky. It was as If something were about to Evening," the dryad said. •'Spring to summer, and summer to autumn. But what was the dream I had before the spring? .Why can * not recall it? svib threw back her hair ana nung thf re, wondering Then she turned to her tr in the dark came the moon, riding like a brig among the stars. Soon.she would be fully grown: she was already past ner half. She shone as if she were made ° £ -«Wan," called the dryad. "Look at mv tree. See what I have done. And the moon stopped in her course to look at the beech that was hung In leaves of yellow. No longer was there anv green about her. She wore ye low from head to foot; and as she stood there, slender and delightful, she was like 3 "Ah 7 !" said the moon. "Why did you do that? It is the fairest tree in the land." . And the dryad answered. "Because of a dream that came to me before the spring." _«.v„h +Vip " What was your dream?" asked the moon But the dryad did not know. "Yet while I was thinking about It I made this frock for my tree. Perhaps my dream was like it, bright ana "'"That I "dream!" exclaimed the moon, "whv will you not seek it? I am sure that you could find It If you would said: "No. I cannot come. The frail leaves of my tree need mG " (To be continued.) TO ALL Dear Little Folk.-The end of the year is coming, and you are alll working fad for your examinations and concerts, i suppose. I wish you well in both, and hope that you will have good holidays to follow.—Your loving DQT LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK Motto.-We wrlte^ r e e benefit of others FIRST LETTERS Dear Dot,-I wish to become a member of your band. I work at the Mosgiel wooUen mills, and I have been employed there for a year. .„.„ BLOSSOM OF THE ORCHARD [Welcome to you, Blossom of the Orchard. Unfortunately, your name has had to be altered.—DOT.l *■ * * Dear Dot,-I wish to become a member of your band. I work at the Mosgtel mIUS ' FOP-EYE PERSON (Dunedin) [You, too, are welcome, PpP-Eye Person, but your name also has had to be altered. —DOT.] r>par Dot—l would be pleased if I might jofn your band of Little Folk. I have little twin brothers, whose names are Bruce and Noel. I should like to be called Shirley Temple. SHY SHIRLEY (Mosgiel). [Unfortunately another Little Folk has choien that name, dear so I have called you Shy Shirley instead.—DOT.] BEST LETTERS JUNJOB SECTION (undei 14 years I Dear Dot,—l am going to tell you about my two calves and my pup Snooker. The calves' names are Beauty and Geordie. They are both red, and It is pleasing to see them drinking milk. I , have to put them,in their run at nights, , as their mothers are still very fond of them. Snooker is a very mischievous pup, , and when he is let off the chain and sees Beauty and Geordie, what a scamper there : Is! The calves do not like the pup, and they make straight for their run, think- , ins they are 3afe from him. Snooker is then put on the chain until next day. i

Inaugurated duly 16,1886, 0 by th.e

OTAGO WITNESS Dot Invites short letters from her young friends throughout the Dominion on matters of Interest to themselves. Letters are to be written under a nom do plume, which, once chosen, cannot be changed by the writer. New members must enclose their name and address. These will not bo published, and are for registration purposes only. Little Folk should write on ona side of the paper only, and In ink, and should address their letters, " Dot, care of Editor, Otago Daily Times." Dot's Little Folk's Badge, with pin, for use as a brooch. Is obtainable on application to Dot. Price 2s 6a. In stamsi or postal nom.

He is black and white, and is very pretty. Also if he has any chance at all he chases the rabbits and hens. Love to all the Little Folk and yourself. SMILING EYES (Heriot). [lt must be a busy time when Snooker apd the calves are all loose at once. Smiling Eyes. Tell the three I have liked hearing about their mischief.—DOT.] * # * Dear Dot,—As I have not written for a long time I thought I would write today. Dad Is going away, so I may not write for a while. I will tell you about my birthday. It was a very cold day. We had games of rounders, queenie, cricket, and echo. I received many presents from friends and relatives. I must stop now, with love to all. SOMEBODY'S JOY (Ardgour). [Such games would be ideal on a cold day, Somebody's Joy. How do you play queenie and echo?—DOT.] * ¥ * Dear Dot, —This week I am going to tell you about our school. There are ten rooms in it, and 300 children attend it. Besides these room there are the cookery rooms, dental clinic, high school girls' room, and the woodwork room. There are shrubs on the bank, too, and many pretty flowers. Two of the kinds are marigolds and French marigolds. There is an arch with a soldier standing on the top holding a gun in his hand. We had our photographs taken one Tuesday. One had all the children and the school in it, and the other was just our own class. I shall close now, with kind regards to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. GOLDEN TULIP (Palmerston). [You have written this with care. Golden Tulip, and really tried to show me your school. I hope the photographs are a success.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot,—lt 1b a long time since I wrote to you. We shall be having our examinations soon. I had a birthday a few weeks ago, and I had seven girls and my auntie, uncle, and grandma to tea. I received a good many presents. We had games and sat down to the party. I cut the cake, which had white and cream icing on it, and was decorated with violets. Then we had some more games till it was time for the girls to go home. We all had a good time, and the day was fine and sunny. Love to all, not forgetting yourself. CURLY PATE (Mosgiel). [The cake must have been pretty to look at, Curly Pate, and the party a great success. Many happy returns of the day.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot,—lt is a long time since I have written to you. We have a small pup now. He is all black, with white tips on his toes. He is full of tricks. He gets old . shoes and things to try to take them away, but they are too heavy for him. I am going to the Agricultural and Pastoral Show in Oamaru, where I shall have heaps of fun, then I shall be able to write a big letter, We have finished our school examinations, but I do not know where I came in them. We are milking 33 cows just now by milking machines, and I milk eight of them by machines. I shall close now, hoping you and your happy band are getting on gloriously. DAISY DAWN (Duntroon). [What is the name of the white-toed pup," Daisy Dawn? I shall look forward to that big letter you are going to send after the show.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot, —I suppose you are thinking that I have forgotten that Dot's page ever existed, as it is many moons since I last lifted my pen to write to you. Really, you will have to forgive me this time, as I have not been well, for my tonsils had to be taken out. The nurses were very kind, and used to talk to me very often. I learnt that one was the daughter of a lady who used to teach at our school. My favourite nurse had a slight Scotch accent. Of late I have not been allowed to attend school, so I have knitted myself a pair of slippers, a purse with anchors on to match a sailor cardigan and beret, and so completed a suit, as I have a white skirt to go with it. At present I am knitting a suit for a doll, which I am giving to my little cousin for Christmas. I have made the dress, shoes, singlet, and pilchers, and I have only to finish the cardigan and make a beret to finish. When I have finished the doll's set I have to knit myself two school Jerseys and a pair of gloves, I have been recommended for proficiency—lucky me—so I shall go to Technical College next year to accomplish the art of dressmaking. Well, Dot, I must close now, as I know that space is limited at present. Love to old and young writers and your own dear self. Here's, also, success to the D.L.F. page. WILD WINDFLOWER (Dunedin). [You ought to do well at your new school when you can knit so well already, Wild Windflower. I am glad to know that you are better again.—DOT.] V * * Dear Dot,—l am going to write you a lettr" about a party I went to. It was give by the Junior Homemakers' Club. We went in the car, and when we arrived we played all sorts of games. The young girls told us to put all the seats in a row, and when we had done this they told us to sit on the seats. The girls told us to listen, and we did. They told us that we were to look for them. I got a skipping rope. As I have no more to tell, I shall close. EX-WEST-COASTER (Merton). [I am very much interested, Ex-West-Coaster, and wish that I, too, could have sat on the seats and listened and looked. —DOT.] -■!: * * Dear Dot,—lt is a long time since I last wrote to you. I am rabbiting. Janet has a little pet rabbit. It eats bread and cake and anything I like to give it. There is a white rabbit on our hill. We see it from the road. I have been trying to catch it, but I have not got it yet. I have caught a number of other rabbits, and yellow, black, and blue ones, too. Love to you and all the Little Folk. MICKY BUZZY BEE (Otago). [Yes, it is a long time, Micky Buzzy Bee. The white rabbit will want to be free as long as it can, of course, for It prefers the hill to even the roomiest cage.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot,—At last I have decided to write to you. One Saturday I collected 75 birds' eggs. We have two little foals just now. They are one and two weeks old. They are both grey. DON'S FRIEND (Duntroon). [I hope they were not native birds' eggs, Don's Friend. Please tell me more about the foals.—DOT.] BEST LETTERS SENIOR SECTION (14 years and over) Dear Dot,—l am going to tell you about a picnic we had at the Waitaki River mouth. We left home at 10 o'clock in cold, cloudy weather, but before we had gone very far the sun was shining down When we reached the river we commenced to fish through the breakers, but the sea was too rough and muddy, so we walked along the shingle bank towards the mouth of the river. When we reached the mouth there were hundreds of seagulls, with their eggs, sitting on the shingle, "and when anybody approached them they rose, screaming, into the air, and looked very pretty with their white bodies against the blue sky. We left the mouth of the river and came to our camping place for lunch, and while we were sitting down the Union airliner passed overhead, looking very trim and neat, with its silver paint shining in the sunlight. Well, Dot, I shall close, with best wishes to yourself and all the Little Folk. DON JOSE (Oamaru). [What a great sight the gulls must have been, Don Jose! I should like to know more of the process of fishing through the breakers.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—" What untidy hands." Many are the times I have heard those hurtful words uttered. Yes, I have looked at those self-same hands and noted that they were untidy, but not through carelessness and neglect, as these' speakers implied. No, I also observed those numerous little dark lines, which gave those hands their gnarled appearance, the marks which speak only too plainly of hard toil, and, more likely than not, toil that had been done for our service and welfare. Our mothers and fathers no doubt possess hands like that: capable ones, though ill-kept perhaps, hands which, though rough, can be gentle, kind, and loving, which necessity demands. I do hope, Dot, I do not seem oversentimental in this pen picture I have tried to write, for I see it as I wish others to. Those hands deserve a halo for their helpfulness and labours of love, for though they are unkempt in appear-

ance, the owners are the best people in the world in their hearts. My love to all. „ v MURIEL MAY (Dunedln).

[Hands can be as eloquent as faces in expressing character, Muriel May. I am glad that you see beauty in the ones you describe, and realise their true worth beneath their " untidiness."—DOT.]

Dear Dot,—The Little Theatre Society closed their year with A. A. Milne's whimsical comedy, " Mr Pirn Passes By." The play was given in a way that may be best described as " delicious," and the unfolding of the ridiculous story proved very enjoyable. There is nothing pretentious about " Mr Pirn," and this charming story seems to have a perpetual freshness. "A Bill of Divorcement," on the other hand, is strong meat, and it is to the credit of the Repertory Society that they had it well digested and gave a moving performance of a piece of real, solid drama. Thus the two leading theatrical societies concluded their year's work very effectively. In the same week we had the Symphony Orchestra's closing concert for this season, and with Mr Gil Dech wielding a baton that once more seemed to assume the proportions of a magic wand, this programme was a pleasurable affair. His rendering of Mendelssohn's blithesome " fourth " symphony (the " Italian 'J) gave us one of the best orchestral treats we have had for some time, and the noisy and bombastic " Preludes" of Liszt were played in a manner that made the old pot-boiler more exciting than ever. Because of my interest in ballet I was delighted when the concert concluded with a selection from one of the most famous ballets being done in Australia just now—' La Boutique Fantasque" (" The Fantastic Toyshop "). It is one of Leonide Massine s creations dating from 1919, and the action on the stage shows stage happenings when the whole stock of a toyshop comes to life. The music is some odd fragments of Rossini arranged by the celebrated composer Respighi, who died some months ago. Mr Dech and his orchestra played it with much verve and crispness, It was an exhilarating finish to a remarkable concert. CHARLES DICKENS (Dunedln).

[I am particularly pleased with your appreciation of the Symphony Orchestra's concert, Charles Dickens. I suppose you saw the plays you mention later on in the week.—DOT.)

Dear Dot,—l am going to tell you something that will be of interest to the Little Folk who are wanting oversea correspondents. I am a member of the Links of the Empire Club in England, and Mrs Bowling, the secretary, wrote to me, so I shall copy a piece of her letter which may interest some Little Folk. "Let the Little Folk members know that if they wrote to me and mentioned your name or nom de plume, I should do my very best to find them the kind of friend they are looking for. Mrs C. L. Bowling's address is as follows:—Glynn House, Sussex road. Southsea, England. I have obtained a very good correspondent through the abovementioned club, and I am sure that if others wrote for correspondents they, too, would find some to suit their longings. I am greatly interested in oversea friends, and have over 60, so I am kept busy writing letters. I find it a great educating hobby, and I can truthfully say that through my oversea friends I have learned more about other countries than I ever learnt at school. I find it is iar easier to remember if read from a letter than from a history or geography book. I have a large collection of post cards, photographs, and pictures that my friends have sent me from different places of interest. For my birthday, which was not long ago, a Canadian friend sent me a calendar with a picture of the Dionne quintuplets on it and also a separate photograph of each of them. They are lovely children. Best wishes to you and all the Little Folk. ' CROSS-EYED SUSAN (Otago).

[Thank you, Cross-eyed Susan. This is useful information which will be of service to the Little Folk.—DOT.]

Dear Dot,—l was pleased to see my first letter in print. Thank you very much for enrolling me. Well, I am going to begin to tell you what I know about the Mosgiel woollen mills. At five minutes to 7 the whistle blows. Up out of bed we rise, have a good stretch, wash, and breakfast, and go on our bicycles down the road to work. We ride up a drive, which on each side is covered with different kinds of shrubs, and park our bicycles and then go into our departments to begin a new day, and hear the clanging of machines. At 8 o'clock the whistle blows again. The men in the woolshed start the machine which washes all the wool. The wool is then made into yarn before going into the worsted shed to be wound into pumes. That is also done In the spinning and winding shfid. Then the men go through with their trolleys to collect yarn to bring into the Hosiery Department to be wound on to larger pumes, and then on to larger frames to be made into different kinds of material—singlets, pants, boys' shirts, and fine and thick socks. Some of the fine yarn is made into cuffs. After the girls have sewn cuffs and skirts on to the shirts or pants the garments are then carefully looked over and passed into the -palace for the finishing touches, buttons, etc. They are then laden into baskets, and men load them into the lorry to bo sent to Dunedin and to many other places. But I have missed out the finishing shed, where the rugs are made and where scarves and blankets are all finished with tails, or whatever has to be done. There is the darning shed, where girls sit or stand all day and darn. What a job! Darning my stockings is enough instead of darning rugs all day. Then there is the weaving. Oh, what a noisy shed! You cannot hear yourself speak! I should not like to work there. Love to all. FLOWER OF THE SKY (Mosgiel).

[Keep within our limit of 300 words in your letters, Flower of the Sky, and thank you for this Interesting description. What share of all that work do you do? —DOT.]

Dear Dot,—lt is rather a long time since I last wrote, but I have been waiting for something suitable to write about. This week I am going to speak of my favourite occupation. One day last week I was sitting at the window reading a book of short stories. One of them was celled " Our Hobbles." After readmj it through I began to think over my own special pursuits, and I came to the conclusion that sewing was about the best (that is, of course, forgetting reading) Often on a Saturday afternoon I take some sewing and an apple or two, go to some grassy, sheltered nook on the hillside, and put in two good hours stitching. Hand sewing is, I think, much easier than machining, although it takes considerably longer to complete an article done by hand. Besides hand sewing ar J machining, there are knitting, fancy wo. k, or embroidery and tapestry. Knitting is a very pleasant pastime usually indulged in on winter evenings, although quite often in summer also. It is a lazy w • of spending a very hot afternoon if one is not swimming. Fancy work is the best kind of sewing. It is so interesting to watch flowers and figures grow, and houses, roads, and watering cans materialise under one's fingers, and all maae possible by a needle and thread and cloth, with a little imagination. Tapestry, if it is worked in several colours, and not done too much, is interesting, too, but to sit incessantly at it spoils the eyesight, so "a little goes a long way,' as the saying goes. Last, but not least, we have plain, ordinary sewing. It is perhaps of the most use. Some people conside- it a drudgery, but if it is done in the right spirit this kind of sewing also can create a feeling of gradual Pleasurs in your own handiwork, especially if it is a frock for yourself. I must close now. Heaps of love and good wishes. DANCING TOMBOY (Roxburgh).

[Bravo, Dancing Tomboy. You have not only written a good letter, but proved that any task can become a pastime if only we are thoroughly interested in it. —DOT.]

Dear Dot,—As I was pleased to see my first letter in print I thought I should write again, as I have not many more years to write now, have I? It will soon be Christmas. How quickly this year has Mown. I always look forward to the Old Writers' Week, and I always read every letter, as they are so interestir.T My father is out of hospital now, and is home again, and my two little brothers are pleased to have him home, as they missed him when he was away. Kind i LASSIE FROM THE HERMITAGE (Otago). [You must put your age on each letter. Lassie From the Hermitage, and write on only one subject. Study the other Senior letters and you will see what I mean.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—lf, in these days of modernity and sophistication, it is considered oHfashioned to admit that one loves and finds pleasure in the novels of 100 years ago, then I am old-fashioned. But I prefer it so, for the pages of those books whicl generations gone by have loved have a mvsterious charm for me. Of course, I do not mean that I spend iiy leisure hours reading translations of Homer or even the novels of Lily—but rather that I find the characters of Dickens and his fellow-authors as living, real, and interesting as did the readers of the early nineteenth century. It is not with a sigh of boredom that I snuggle down to read one of Dickens's masterpieces, but rather it is a sense of reverence almost tinged with awe which accompanies a quiet sensation of utter happiness. I do hope this has not -Itogether bored you, Dot, but I was just wondering how many of the Little Folk reverence this grand old - master, too. I think vou will know the poem " Dickens in Camp." do vou not? It is so simply written and sincere that I really love it, and whenever I think of this great English novelist the beautiful expressive words of the poem run through my mind, and I picture once more the mystic spell

which Dickens's immortal characters cast over people of every class, race, and age. Love to you, Dot, and my fellow-Little Folk. AURORA (Otago). [I expect you will find a Little Folk to discuss Dickens with you, Aurora. People either love Dickens very much or do noi like him at all—DOT.] V * y. Dear Dot,—To have to stand for ten minutes on a safety zone, unable to step off with one foot in case you were run over by some of these cars that seem to think they own the road, is not a very pleasant occupation, especially when you are in a hurry. Such was my lot last Saturday morning, when I was visiting Newmarket, one of Auckland's busiest suburbs. The time was 12 o'clock. Newmarket, being on the road to about half a dozen other suburbs, is always very busy, but on a Saturday morning at 12 o'clock it is six times as busy. By some wonderful piece of luck I managed to cross the road as far as the safety zone, but after that it seemed impossible to get any farther. Looking about me, I had a feeling such as a shipwrecked sailer stranded on an island which is surrounded by sharks must experience. After waiting very patiently for six minutes, I glanced at the traffic inspector, only to see his right arm moving in one continual circle, ushering the motor cars into Newmarket, past my island. Cars travel so much faster in Auckland than they do in Dunedin that it is practically impossible to slip between them. What a relief it was when I saw a tram round the bend, for I knew it would stop at the zone and hold up the motors for a while, and there was my chance to slip in front of them. Alas. Dot, it does not always pay to be hopeful, for that tram stopped right at the top of the zone, and by the time I had walked its length it had begun to move again. Looking behind it, I was perfectly disgusted to discover that four more trams had pulled up behind. When was I to be able to cross those tew yards of road? Those trams slowly passed by, leaving the road clear once again rr the greedy motorists. Seeing at last a small space between a car and a bus which had slowed down, I took my chance, and the next moment I found mvself safe on the footpath. Glancing at" the time, I found that I had spent ten minutes in crossing a suburb main road. What must it be like crossing the main road in London? I dread to think. CHRISTMAS CARD (Auckland).

[Probably it is not so bad in London as where you were, Christmas Card, because a policeman will hold up the traffic for vou there. Our limit is 300 words, you 'know.—DOT.]

Dear Dot,—A sense of humour is supposed to be a priceless gift, but it is strange that one's mirth seems to bubble over at the most inconvenient of times, often causing most awkward situations. For my own part I know this is true. anyway, and it used to be no uncommon thing 'for me to take a violent fit of almost uncontrollable laughter in the middle of a church sermon. I think, however, that perhaps I often had ample reason for such amusement, as I am sure even the minister himself occasionally found it hard to control his features. The reason for the disturbance was a fairly elderly woman who, unfortunately, was not quite responsible for all her actions. Each Sunday she would march into church with her three children, invariably ten minutes or so late, and sit in one of the front pews. Her family, decidedly more restless than most children, seemed to save up all their family quarrels for this particular dav of the week. They fought incessantly throughout the address, and their mother was kept busy at a sort of garne of " general post" In her efforts to make peace. One Sunday stands out very vividly in my memory. More exasperated than ever, she raised both her hands, neatly dealt the girl on the left with a resounding box on the ears and administered a slap with her hymn book to the little boy on her right. By the time 12 o'clock was reached I was aching all over through trying to keep a serious face, and I have no doubt whatever that a perfectly good sermon was wasted that Sunday on a usually very attentive congregation. Kind regards. CURLY PHYL (Otago). [I wonder if the children quarrelled at other times, Curly Phyl. If not, I should suggest that church was disagreeing with them. Yes, humour is sometimes hard to keep in bounds.—DOT.] * * * Dear Dot,—Our copy of the Otago Daily Times does not arrive in time for me to see it before I go to work, and on Monday some of the girls remarked on the size of the paper. I, of course, was very anxious to know what it was all about, but did not get an opportunity on Monday even to glance at it, but cautioned the family not to destroy it, ns I had not read it. When I did eventually get the chance, and came to the page, "Otago Daily Times, 1861-1936, Seventyfifth Anniversary," I though this would be verv Interesting, and I was not disappointed. This copy is really a wonderful souvenir, and well worth keeping for future reference. It embraces not only the story of the paper, but is a record of the growth of the roligious, industrial, educational, agricultural, and pastoral activities of the whole province, and Includes the Harbour Board, too. Besides the congratulatory messages from far and wide there is that very interesting record of long service among the employees. The paper has a great name throughout the length and breadth of our country, and we hope it will long continue. With kind regards. ELEPHANTYNE (Taierl).

[On behalf of the paper. I thank you. Elephantyne. Your appreciation is very gratifying.—DOT.]

Dear Dot,—Like many others in the work-a-day world, I sometimes spend odd moments imagining the things I should do if I were rich. I know a great deal of my money would be exhausted on travel. Imagine actually seeing the people and places one has dreamed about! I should visit London first, to meet all my dear relatives, who. though I have never seen them, are well known to me, so often has my mother painted glowing word pictures of each. One of my burning ambitions is to see a real opera, so io Covent Garden I would go—a feast for eyes and ears alike, for among the brilliant audience there might be some royal personage, smiling and gracious, in the royal box. America, too. would know me in my journeyings, I long to see New York—that city of architectural marvels—and then there would be the Metropolitan Opera, where. Richard Crooks is the leading tenor I certainly would not miss hearing his beloved voice again. Maybe I would take a trip out to see what the famous town of Hollywood is really like. Who knows, I might catch a glimpse of Nelson Eddy or Lawrence Tibbett, others of my favourite singers. Age-old China, Westernised on the surface, but underneath as unchangeable as she has been for thousands of years; mysterious India; Africa, half unexplored—all these places I should love to visit. But now the words of an advertisement leap to mind, " See New Zealand First!" That reminds me that I have seen very little of this wonderful land of ours, so I think I shall curb my ambitions slightly until I know it well enough to sing its praises convincingly in other countries. REDGUANTLET (Dunedin).

[That is a wise plan, Redgauntlet. Yet if you were given the chance, I am sure you would leave New Zealand immediately, so that you might go to the other lands you describe here so vividly.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,—My brother and I attended our Scout Camp, which, in my eyes, was a great success. It is the first camp I have ever attended, so, of course, everything was a treat to me. We had to go to our Scout hall after school and take our packs with us. When we arrived we loaded our packs on to a light wagon, and away we went. We had to stop once or twice to pick up some things tut had fallen off. After a jolly, bumpy trip we arrived at our destination, and I felt thrilled at the sight of the big bellshaped tent that was to contain us for three days. When we arrived we unloaded the things from the wagon and put up a smaller tent for a foodhouse—a very important thing. We then began to vndo our packs and get things in order. We placed our fireplace and erected our table. When everything was complete we all set out for firewood with which to cook the first meal. Love to all the Little Folk. GINGER MICK THE CARPENTER (Waianakarua).

[You forgot to put your age on this letter, Ginger Mick the Carpenter. Please tell me more about this happv outing.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,—S' iiraer time is bird timemore so than any other season of the year, as the birds are building their nests and hatching and rearing their young. If you watch a sparrow closely you may see it alight on the ground and pick up in its beak a fine straw or small feather, perhaps both, and away it will fly to add the material to its nest. A sparrow's nest was blown down from a gum tree near our place some time ago, and it was the most untidy nest I have ever seen, String, grass, rags, and even paper had been used in making it, and the clumsy way in which it was woven together contrasted with a neat skylark's nest of grass that I saw earlier in the year. At nesting time our native birds disappear into the bush, where they rear their young in peace and quietness, away from unscrupulous schoolboys, who would delight in robbing their nests. The blackbird, thrush, and other imported English birds, unlike the native birds, do not seem to mind human society, as they build their nests quite near to houses, and, indeed, starlings often succeed in building in the roofs of houses, much to the dissatisfaction of the owner. We could well do without the imported birds, interesting and beautiful though some of them are, for they do as much damage as they do good. It is our native birds that we must preserve, for their

like is found nowhere else in the world, and, besides, they do much good work in ridding our sylvan forests of insect pests and pollinating the flowers of our majestic forest trees and flowering shrubs. A YOUNG NEW ZEALANDER (Dunedin).

[I like this bird letter, A Young New Zealand. It may help our ardent birdnesters to think twice before they steal from a nest.—DOT.]

Dear Dot,—Here is another poem I have composed. It is entitled " Here It Is": We learn in history books of kings And knights of long ago; Of battles waged and countries won, And when they fought with bow.

The Britons fought the Roman men, In 55 8.C., But Julius—he conquered them. And claimed a victory.

Why should one have to learn all that? When one's not far to seek To find the heroes of to-day Who've accomplished some great feat?

For in New Zealand there are some Great folk who've captured fame, Both for their country and themselves. By piloting a 'plane.

New Zealand's noble aviatrlx Who broke the world's record Right out From England to Darwin A name for us has scored.

Miss Batten is this great woman; Through hardships she has been, And all New Zealanders new sing Praises to our Jean.

Her name is known throughout the world For pluck and bravery And all the courage needed while She crossed the Tasman Sea.

And now that she has flown so well, Her name will ever stand With those of heroes of to-day Who dwell in our dear land. PATSY NEVER GROW UP (Waikouaiti). [This is very much better. Patsy Never Grow Up; better in rhythm as well as in sense. I hope Miss Batten reads it.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,—On Saturday week we had a record made of our voices to send to our relatives in the Old Country for a Christmas gift. When we heard the record afterwards on the gramophone we could not recognise our own voices in the least, but we could recognise each other's voices. It sends a thrill up one s spine to be able to talk to relatives one has never seen. I love to think of my dear grandma being able to hear our voices. She is blind now, so it will be ever so nice for her, will it not? She is the sweetest little grandmother you ever saw, and I am so glad we decided to have a record made. How pleasant it will be for grandma and our uncles and aunts to hear my father's voice—a voice which they have not heard for many years. It is also very exciting to have the opportunity of speaking to one s cousins. I think the recording way is a decidedly novel way of expressing one s thoughts, and I fully intend taking advantage of it in the near future. As it pleases you if your Little Folk write short letters, I shall draw to a close. Best of love to your own dear self and to the brothers and sisters of the family. LAUGHING LILYBELL (Dunedin). [Yes, it is a novel experience, Laughing Lilybell. As you say, one can never recognise one's own voice, which, of all, is the one that sounds most strange.— DOT.] OLD WRITERS' WEEK Letters for Old Writers' Week will be printed this year on January 4. Old Writers are invited to send in their contributions as soon as possible, as no letters will be accepted after December 12. The letters must necessarily be short, owing to the fact that they all must appear in the one issue—January 4—and writers are urged as far as possible to keep them within a limit of 300 words. It is hoped that there will be a generous response, and that the fifth appearance of the Old Writers' letters in the Otago Daily Times will be a record one and of interest and benefit to all. DOT. OLD WRITERS' NOTES All who wish to have copies of the Jubilee Souvenir Booklet, which is now ready for the printer's hands, are requested to send their orders to the secretary Old Writers' Association, immediately. Unless sufficient support Is forthcoming it may be necessary to abandon the project. State name, address, and number of copies required. Price 2s. * * * Any members who intend making the trip to Oamaru on December 5 must notify the secretary, Morning Star, no later than November 30. I appeal to all members who are attending the Oamaru reunion to forward their names to me before November 30, so that I may notify the committer in Oamaru for catering purposes. The members will be billeted out. The cost of the functions are as follows:—Picnic admission. Is; Banquet, 3s; the ball, 2s. So that I may make all arrangements for the members, I urgently appeal for their names before their departure from Dunedin. It makes such a difference if all arrangements are completed beforehand. Please help by forwarding your names early. Any further inquiries will be sent by me on receipt of a letter. I hope a large number will attend and give the North Otago branch support. MORNING STAR (Mrs J. Hines, 24 Jackson street. St. Kilda, Dunedin, 5.2.). * * * Grey-Eyed Blonde's Mother.—The address is Milton Moyer, Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta, Canada. DOT. NEW MEMBERS Dot extends a special welcome to the following Little Folk who have written to the page for the first time this week;— Blossom of the Orchard, Pop-Eye Person, Shy Shirley. NOTES Best wishes to Aurora from Laughing Lilybell. V V * Don's Friend.—Unfortunately I cannot find correspondents such as you ask for. DOT. * :|: # Muriel May.—Thank you very much for what you wrote, my dear. 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 wish to correspond, it is necessary that those companions should send the first letter —DOT Blossom of the Orchard (Jessie Revill, C/o Worsted Department, Woollen Mills, Mosgiel) would like to correspond with Little Folk between 17 and 21 years old. Pop-Eye Person (Margaret Revill, C/o Worsted Department, Woollen Mills, Mosgiel) wishes to correspond with Little Folk from 16 to 20 years old. D.L.F. SOCIAL CLUB It was unfortunate that the weather should have been unfavourable for the mystery hike, which was to have been held on November 14. However, a picture party was arranged instead, and it was decided to spend an enjoyable afternoon at the theatre. The film, "Les Miserables," was fully appreciated by all, and, besides providing excellent entertainment, was of great educational value to those who attended. The following were present:—Laughing Lilybell (accompanied by her father), Little Lady Clare, Kilmeny of the Pool, Remembrance, Blue Gem, Creamy's Daughter, Oamaruite, Muriel May, and Charles Dickens. It is hoped that a hike may be held at a later date, providing the weather is fine. MURIEL MAY (Secretary).