LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLKS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2095, 19 April 1894, Page 45

LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLKS.

Dear Dot, — I thought you might like to know how I spent my Easter holidays, bo I am writing to tell you. I went to stay at Maungatua, near Outram. Maungatua is very high, and from the top of it there is a splendid view. One day we climbed to the top, and though it was hard work, we were rewarded by the view. It was a clear day, and the sun was shining not too brightly. At the top the mountain is pretty level, and is very boggy. Once or twice I thought I was going to lose my feet, they sank so deep in the damp, spongy moss. There were some white flowers growing all over the top, something like white crocuses, but wide open, with dark green leaves. In one place there is a pond which is called a lake, but it isn't a very large one. Near it is a flat rock with a heap of stones on it. I found a piece of paper near the rock, and it had written on it, " Erected by .William Bowling, W. Scott, D. Scott, tourists, October 13, 1893. * Whosoever drinketh of this water shall never thursb.' " I have written it exactly as it wsb on the paper. Don't you think that paper will be a curiosity some day, Dot P I left it there so that other people could pee it, and we wrote our names on it too. I think if tourists would visit out-of-the-way places like that they would gee

just as beautiful scenery as if they went where everyone else goes. We saw the whole of the Taieri Plain stretched out like a large patchwork quilt, and dotted with groups of trees growing round the houses, the hills round forming a kind of border broken only in one place, where the Waipori plain commences. Away over at the back iB the Upper Waipori. Waipori Lake is at the south end of the Taieri Plain, and beyond it is Lake Waihola, and beyond that are hills of all shapes stretching away down south and east towards the sea. We could see | White Island and Lawyer's Head, and the I hills above Anderson's Bay. Then not so far away were Flagstaff and Saddle Hill, and lying amongst the hills between and beyond them was a township which I think is Green Island. The Taieri river swept, like » curved golden line, across and along the plain, disappearing between the hills beyond Henley ; but as w» were so high up we saw it again as it turns round near the mouth. We saw the smoke of the steamer and heard the whistle, but did not see the steamer itself. I hope you are not j tired of this long letter and that you will be able to find room for it. May I write again, please Dot, and tell you about my Christmas holiday P I have never written to you before, at we did not get the Witness, but I like it very much. — Yours truly, Adelaide A Childe. Dunedin, April 8. [Yes, Adelaide, indeed you may. You have written a very nice description of your trip, and I am sure the little folks would like to hear more from you. Did the tourists really spell thirst with a " v" as you have written it ? —Dot] Dear Dot, — I am going to tell you about my pets. I have a pefc dog called Dan and a cat called Aon. My sister has a kitten ; please give me a name for it. I live in a valley between very pretty hills, which are often covered with snow. — Youtb truly, Chablie Wright. Hakateramea Valley, April 7. [Call the kitten Pan, and I will tell you who that mythical personage was. Fan, among the Greeks, was the chief god of pastures, forests, and flocks. From his very birth his appearance was peculiar. He came into the world with horns, a goat's beard, a crooked nose, pointed ears, a tail, and goat's feet ; and so frightened his mother that she ran off for fear, but his father, Hermes (Mercury), carried him to Olympus, where all the gods, especially DiocysuQ (Bacchus), were charmed with the little monster. When he grew up he had a grim, shaggy aspect, and a terrible voice, which bursting abruptly ou the ■ ear of the traveller in solitary places — for Pan was fond of making a great noise — inspired him with a sudden fear (whence the word panic). It is even related that the alarm excited by his blowing on a shell decided the victory of the gods over the Tifcaue. He was the patron of ail persoos occupied in the care cf cattle and of bees, iv hunting »nd iv fishing. During the heat of the day he used to

take a nap in the deep woods or on the lonely hillsides, and was exceedingly wroth if his slumber was disturbed by the halloo of the hunters. He is also represented as fond of music and of dancing with the forest nymphs, and as the inventor of the syrinx or shepherd's flute, also called Pan's pipe. Cows, goats, lambs, milk, honey, and new wine were offered to him. — Dot ] Dear Dot, — I am a pony, and my name is Dolly. I live in Oamaru. My master is about five years old, but he cannot ride me. He has three brothers, and they ride mo about. Sometimes I buck them oft my back when they hit me. I can jump about 4ft high, but sometimes I knock down the pole. I was away for six weeks' holiday, and I enjoyed them very much, I get some food every morniDg and night. — Yours truly, Dollt. April 6. Dear Dot,— l am a dog, and my name is Darky. As I was goiDg through a paddock one day I saw a piece of paper with letters on it from dogs, cats, and horses, so I made up my mind to write too. I am not much good now, because one of my shoulders is out of joint, and it is very sore in the cold weather ; bub my master says he will keep me aB long as I live. There are two other dogs living with me ; their names are Rover and Ino. Rover is such & troublesome dog to me in the mornings when he is let off his chain that I sometimes make out I will bite him. Sometimes Ino and myself go out rabbiting in the paddock by ourselves. I stand at the burrows, while Ino chases the rabbits up, and then I catch them. Don't you think that is a good way to catch them, Dot P I will stop now, as my foot is getting sore. — Yours truly, Darky (aged 5 years). Bendlgo, April 9. [A very good way, Darky. It is a pity about your shoulder, as you are not old enough yefc to be cast on one side, but should be of use for another two or three years. — Dot.] Dear Dot,— l send you the following tale for the Little Folks' Page of the Witness :— a cat's adventure. lam a cat, and my name is Tib. I used to live in a house in the'country, close to a deep and swift stream, and the folks there were very kind to me. But one day my master (the owner of the house) decided to move, and, alas t he forgot to take me. I wandered about the orchard for a while, until at length some boys, who had come to steal fruit, found me and determined to have some fun at my expense. They took me down to the river, and the biggest of the lot threw me in as far as he could. But the river was in flood, and, fortunately for me, the boy did not look where be was throwing me, so that I landed on a big log that was floating down with the tide, none the worse, except for a slight shaking. I was thus carried down the river all that day and night. Very early the next morning the log stuck in a bend, and I was enabled to walk on to the shore ; and seeing a house a short dis-

tance away I made for it at once, for I was by this time very hurgry. Imagine my joy when on reaching the house, I found my old master in the yard ; and he was very pleased to see me again. It turned out that this was the house to whioh he had shifted, so that the cruel boys, instead of drowning me as they had intended, had been the means of sending me to my old master again. — Yours truly, Tibby, tub Cat. Dunedin, April 3. Deae Dot, — I am an Old Girdle. I was bought by my owner at a sale at Kaitangata. ', I have been broken, but the blacksmith rivetted me. Ifc was rather sore when he was hammering me. My. mistress makes excellent scones on me, for I am far quicker than the Oven, and she has not to be always lifting ashes on to me. I have been often borrowed. Dear Dot, do you like scones P I make also good oatmeal cakes. My friend the Fire finishes them for me, so you see how useful I am. I send you a piece of poetry. It is called THE BOSEBUD. I wish I was a rosebud— A pretty little flower ; A playmate for the children In every happy hour. From daylight until evening The sun it shines on me ; I am the prettiest little flower, The happiest there can be. The children all do love me, And of me take good care, And many a lovely lady With me she decks her hair. I prize you little rosebud, To rue you're always blest ; Of all my earthly treasures I'm sure I love you best. Now farewell, little rosebud, I now will aay adieu ; And when I'm in my garden I'll always think of you. — Yours truly, An Old Giudlf. Glenomaru, April 13. Dear Dot, — I am going to tell you something about Middlemarch. The township is on the Strath-Taieri— a wide plain between two mountains. My brother and a lot of other boys went up the mountains on Sunday, aud enjoyed themselves very much, only they got wefc, as it came on to snow and rain. They had to take shelter under a big rock, but got home in time for tea. — Yours truly, Susan Neill.

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