LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK.

Otago Witness, Issue 2370, 3 August 1899, Page 57

LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK.

Dear Dot, — This ha 3 been it very disagreeable day. Snow has been falling all day, and nothing is to be seen but white hills and plains. No doubt it i 8 a very pretty sight when one is in the. houso sitting beside a bright fire, but not 80 nice when., you happen to-bo outside. Is it notjvery funny, when I begin to write father' starts, to read aloud ? When we are aIL-sitting still and not reading or writing, father reads to himself ; but if we begin to do anything, he is sure to start and read something that is not in - the least interesting. That was . a- nice letter tliat you received from A Wee Scotch Laddie. When father read it, he said, " That's a gey auld Scotch laddie." You want someone to love .you, Wullie, do you ? lam sure there will be olenty to love you. I, for one, will, but I wish I knew you: then it would be easy. Write again, Wullie. I 3hall be looking for youi letter Most of tho fanners up this way have the gold fever. All of them are going to put on a diedge if they can get good prospects. One of the settlers went a3 far as washing the gravel on the road, and it is said he got the colour of gold. I wonder if he will be going to put a diedge ou? One day I got the fever, and got a spade and a shovel, and went down into one of our gullies and bagan to dig for my fortune. The ground, was hard with frost, and it was not so easy to dig as I thought it would be, and it made me' think of Klondyke, for it was very cold. I continued to dig, and at last I came to gravel. Then I began to work iv earnest, and after washing a- few shovels of gravel I got six specks of gold, but as I was going home I lost them all but one, so I am now very poor after my great loss. I wonder if this letter will reach you, Dot ? The last one I wrote was returned to me after it was three weeks old. The reason of this I, perhaps, should explain. There ■was a young man at our place, and as he was going past the post office, I asked him if he would be kind enough to post the letter, and he aaid certainly ; but, lo and behold, the next time I met this obliging young man he handed mo the letter, and said he was very sorry, but lie had forgotten all about it. That is just like men and boys, is it not, Dot? They never forget anything for themselves. I wish I knew Zisk.i; then perhaps she would tell me how 8.0.8. is. Oh, by-the-bye, Aguinaldo suys he knows me. Perhaps I shall find him out, and lie might tell mo how 8.0.8. is. Please, Aguinaldo, tell me when next you write if you sent your photograph. If you did not want me to find you out, you made a mistake in saying you ■lived in tho same district as I do. I shall do my best to find you out. You were saying that sFantail had been giving you a hauling over the coals. If sho hauled you. over all the coals tf»t are. on you? father.' a farjo X am. afraid' your

bones would be rather sore. I wonder what has become of D. Donovan. I hope he did not get shot with the gun that shot tho hare and the other two unfortunate creatures. That was a yarn. Did you think we could digest that, Mr Donovan. It will have to get more cooking, I am afraid. Once a friend of mine was shooting birds, and I -wanted to see if I could shoot one, so he let me try, but he told me to hit a post, which was some yards away. So I fired and shot a hen which was passing, and as soon as I saw what I had done, I dropped the gun and went and hid the hen. I was sorry, but my friend just stood and laughed at me. I did not tell rnothex what I "had done, or I should have heard about it. I did not wait up to see the eclipse of the moon, as it was too long to wait, and I had half of the night to pass in a very nice place, the name of which is Blanket Bay. I fancy all of your friends have visited the same place often. I am afraid that there would not be many at church on Sunday, as it was such a day of snow. Now, I must close, as it is getting late. With love to 8.0.8. and Harry and Aguinaldo, and all the others too numerous to particularise, and love to yourself. Dot, — Yours truly, „ JESSIE C. July 22. [I had begun to think we had lost Jessie C , but it is not so, and I am exceedingly j>leased to see that she is faithful to the page and to the little folk. Hec letter is both entertaining and j interesting.— DOT.] ! Dear Dot, — We get the Otago Witness every | week, and I take very much pleasure in reading « the little folk's : .ettera, so I thought 1 would [ like lo write too. Your page is getting very interesting. I think the little folk will need a paper all to themselves soon. Igo to school, and am in the Sixth Standard. Miss Kinder is my teacher, and I like her very well. I have only a mile and a-quarter to walk to school, and I think it far enough these cold winter mornings, though some of t!ie children have farther to come. Dear Dot, I have five brothers and one sister. Three, of my brothers are older than I am. I read in one of the little folk's letters, signed Fashoda, that the writer likes boys as well as girls, but vAen her brothers' are homo from school she complained of them alwgya being in the cupboard; and I must say I have the same complaint. If I ever lose 3>ght of the little ones I am sure to find them in the pantry. I really think boys are more trouble than girls, but I suppose that is because I havo only one sister. Dear Dot, we are having dreadfully snowy weather just now, and we have splendid fun snow-balling. I have two pretty little grey and black kittens ; will you please give me names for them. I will now conclude with love to you and the little folk. — Yours truly, NELLIE WILLOCKS. Stony Crock, July 22. [I wonder if boys really do visit the cupboard oftener than girls? Perhaps so, because they indulge in moro violent exercise than girls, and therefore must get hungrier. Call tho kittens Freeze and Thaw, Nellie.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I do love reading your little folk's letters, and my mamma reads them also. She says 8.0.8. is not a bad sort after all, poor fellow. I have three brothers and four sistexs. We have the Army at Merton, and I go every Sunday. I have a pet black lamb, and wish you to give me a name for it. 1 found it at the Horseshoe Bend on Easter Monday; when some others and I were at a nicnic. This is my first letter, as I wish to become one of your little folk. Adieu, dear Dot, for the present. — Yours truly, AGNES ALLAN. Merton, July S3. [Another little compliment to 8.0.8.— n0t a bad sort after all (poor fellow!). Call the lamb Mascotte, Agnes. This means "luck bringer ' — a black cat coming to a house is supposed to bring luck; why not a black lamb? — DOT.J Dear Dot, — I have just been wondering whether I should write to you at this time or not, because you have so many correspondents, and it must take you a long time to read all tho letter 3. I am sure that if all your correspondents were to stop writing now you would j have enough spare letters to fill the little folk's i column, or page, I should say, for a week or j two yet. We are having veiy cold weather i just new. On the Bth of this month it snowed, I and than it froze oa top of tho snoiv, o>xd j I teli you it ia very cold getting up in the ] morning. We can slide anywhere here now. I We have great fun the?e moonlight nights I playing football on the ice. We get a piece of ice about 2m thick for a football. Two or three- a-side is reckoned enough, because the j "field" is rather' narrow. The rub is to keep on \our feet. If you kick the "ball"' a bit, hard you might go on your head. Last night myself and another little boy played two other big boys, and the game ended in a win for us by one goal to nothing. Then my mate went' home, so wa could not play any more football. Since writing tho above we have had a fall of snow ; also, a lot of snow-balling. First wo had rain, which was followed by snow, and when I K°t np this morning, io, and J behold! th 6 ground was white. Of course no- J thing very much could be done on a day like that. 1 think the hardest work done was i snow-balling. It is grand fun if you don't make the snowball too hard. Several of .the young fellows up this way -have got \i\i what they call a Social Club, but I what the majority of people call the dancing class. I always understood that a social club was for the purpose of holding socials and providing suitable amusement for people of all ages and classes who are members of the ciub. However, it seems that our Social Club committee don't think so, for at their so-called socials it is nothing but dancing, not even, asong. If they would take as example a neighbouring social, where there were as many songs, etc., as dances, they would do better. They also have cricket and football clubs here. The cricket club played ono game — at Ine opening of tho season, and were not heard oi after- ! wards. Tho footballers have fared better. They played several matches this season, beating in their last match a team which had never been beaten before this season. I think the reason is that they have a moro energetic secretary than the cricket club, which means a lot. I will have to close now, and am sorry I have not moro to tell the little folk. — Yours truly, LADDIE. Dear Dot, — I live in Petane, and sometimes we get the Otago Witness sent to us. I have been reading the Little Folk's Page, and I thought I should like to write to you also. I have a pony named Jacko, which I ride to school. I am eight years old, and am in the First Standard. Our examination' will take place in about four weeks. There is a Maori pa near my home, and some of the Maoris are very nice. There are some native children going to our school. The river Esk runs past our back door. Wo often swim there in the bu-n-mer. There aro nice willow trees growing along the banks. Would you kindly give me a name for a little grey kitten sent to us from the Tongoio Bush. We have five cats, one dog, aL'd four cows. — Yours truly, • NELLIE ARNOTT. Petane, Hawke's Bay, July 10. [It is good to hear of the little Maoris going to school with you, Nellie, and I hope when they grow up they will make good use of the knowledge they are acquiring. Call the kitten after the pretty little pansies at the head of your note paper. Pansies are often called catseyes, you know. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Here I am agaiu. Since last I wrote to you, Mona and I have beeu within the sacred portals of the Witness office. As JJEona told you, we had a first-class time of it, sesing nearly everything $b. a l wag to be seen, exceDt,

alas! that mysterious somebody -who signs herself " Dot." However, we had to be content -without that, and well we might be, seeing the trouble the editor (who, by the bye, is not the j ferocious and fear-striking editor of the storyI books — very much the reverse) took to show us 1 round. In one room the noise was deafening, but the rest were nothing like so noisy. My notions of printing, etc., have decidedly had a rise. We saw a photo of 8.0.8. and Moses, and they both came up to my expectations. Bikes are out of the question just now, so, sad to say, my trusty steed stays indoors in its shed, where I pay it a visit now and then to see that no rust settles uninvited, for, as you know, rust is not the very best thing for a bicycle. Fancy 8.0.8., of all people, thinking you were an old lady. I suppose you smiled when you read it. "Why, I think we had belter begin to hint that 8.0.8. is an old man (Oh! I I beg your pardon, 8.0.8., an old gentleman), j although I don't think an old gentleman i (hum!) could ride so gallant and frisky a . steed as Moses. I must tell you about a ride I once had over the down? of the south. There , v/ero four of us together. We had been peace- ■ fully cantering along over some nice Hat ccuu1 try when one of the horse 3 started oft at a j great speed. Of course the other horses im- ; mediately pricked up their ears- and set off ;at once.- 1 had to hang on for dear life. '• I pulled at the reins, all to no purpose, so I ] hung on, and let my hor3e, whose name was j Gem, go ; she did, like the wind, and came ~:n second. The distance must have Leon about i three or four miles. One horse stayed behind j and kept out of it, but I am afraid it had not ; much -spirit. At the end of our race we looked I back and saw our compimion mile 3 away in the distance, as it seemed. Ever afterwards we called that the South Downs Handicap. Ilt would be rather good-fun if some of the little folk would write about their, scrapes at school. I am sure. 8f0.8.. you have got into' many a 1 scrape, although Harry is too good to do auyi thing mugbty. I v/ill tell the little folk about i some of my scrapes and fun at school. We used to pa?s notes by means, of a penknife. In the knife was a place for pins, jind in this we put a note (just for fun, of course), shut it, and asked the girls to pass it along to So-and-so. Of course the other girls knew there was something peculiar about the knife, and | even the teacher used to wonder why we wanted to sharpen our pencils so often. Ono day it was lying on the desk in front of in?, and the teacher cirne up and examined it. My word! | my heart was m my mouth all the time, but ho just remarked that it was rather a, funnylooking knife, and passed on. I suppose it | was rather wicked to do that, but schoolday ! sciapes are done for now. Three other girla and myself were tho, members of a club, our own private one. We issued a magazine once a week for about three weeks, and then they i dropped off. Each member had the name of a qunlity, and we called the club the G. C. (I suppose none of you could guess what these letters stood for). It was great fun. I see in this week's Witness Harry hao been dictating homo verses to V. B. I know V. 8., and he I knows me, but he will never guess who DoughI nut is all the same. If you peg in, Harry, j you will be a poet in no time. Could you not I write a few verses (not yards of them) in honour of Dot's column and the photographers? Try. Are you going to the dance on Monday night, Harry? I hear the boys are quite excited about it. I hope' you will give \is a full account of it if you do go. I suppose you would not miss barracking for the O. B. H. S. at the match H. C. v. Christ's College for all the books in creation. Now, Dot, I must bring my wandering thoughts back. Re Wee Wullie's letter. I have my suspicions of its genuineness. If it is genuine I don't think much of Wee Wuliie, although' I like the broad Scotch. Fancy a boy 15 years of age weeping for nothing — ugh! He doesn't seem to have much respect for his father and mother. 1 can't say I bold a very high opinion of j Wee Wullie, but perhaps tome of the other I little folk will think different. Now, Agui- | naldo, you must have got a doing from some I girls some time in ytJur life, and are no* trying to get even with 'them. It is a good thing words won't kill, or we poor girls would have been, annihilated (oh!) long ago. That would have been awful, as the boys would then have the run of the Witness Little Folk's Page. , An advertisement, something like this, will soon j have to bo put m "our column": — "Lost, ■ btolen, or strayed, a Sybil Scribbles. Anyone | retaining same- will be prosecuted. — .Return NoI man's, No. 00." Perhaps that would bring j Sybil back to us. But I must c'en stop, or jJot will be in despair. — Yours truly, DOUGHNUT. P S. — The snow lies thick since I wrote this, so I have not been able to post it. — D. [Surely wo 3hall hear from Sybil after that, but perhaps ahe is waiting till there- are fewer letters in. Wuliie has a severe critic in Doughnut; but it should be remembered that he is only a new chum, and Home boys are not quite so independent and manly as colonial boys of their own age. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live in Central Otago, and it I is a very cold place to live in, especially in I the winter time. Wo are having plenty of snow this winter, and it will lie a long time before it clears off. When I came up here first I used to live in a tent, and I often had to 'go and gather wood for the fire, as we lived in a place where there was not a c»rt to be seen,' I except the- one that came with provisions. Tent j life is all right in the summer time, but in win- ! ter time it is awful, for we had to put tubs in | front of the file so that the water should not | put the firo out. I am glad I do not live in i a tent now, as it is not so miserable. There are some claims pegged out near Kokonga for dredging, and I shall be glad when the dredges start, so that I may see them working. I like [ 8.0.8.'a letters, and I hope Wuliie will write again. — Yours truly, ROUSEABOUT. July 23. [Rouseabout had evidently a rather rough experience while living in the tent, but I don't quito understand jmtting tho tubs before the lire. Dredging will make a great change in the district as soon as- it is started. — DOT.] Dear Laddie, — I now take the pleasure of writI ing to you through the Little Folk's Page. j Although I am not personally acquainted with I you, I have known you for a long time. Don't j you remember when you lived on the Taieri Plain, and played football at the Outram School? I am glad to sco you have 'taken to looking after the sheep, as when I knew you you preferred reading to work. You think Ziska and the little folio will have hard work to find out where you live; but 1 think I know. Now, bo honest, isn't it at Te N i, about 30 miles from Timaru? I did not need to look up the reports of the late Canterbury Dog Trial to find out, although I believe jou did get second prize in the Boys' Class. 'I could telll where 8.0.8. and Harry live, too, but that would be giving myself away. Havo you been out pig-hunting since you wrote last? Be sure you feed the little black one well, and invite me to have my Xmas dinner off him. Oh, how I wish I was a boy, so that I could go pig-hunting and footballing. As this is the first time I have written I will now conclude, with love to you and the little folks, and I hope that you will answer this letter and tell me a little about myself and where I live. — Yours truly, LASSIE. [There is a challenge for Laddie. We shall sco if he will take it up.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — The long-looked for snow (at least, it was long-looked for by us) has come at last, and we arc not at all sorry. It has been snowing here since Friday, so we bara now got a. dsceni coal, about Qin in. depth. I think jaojt

of the country little folk will now be satisfied. There will be plenty of sliding and snowballing/ going on at present if the fall of snow is as good everywhere as it is here. Now, dear Dot, this is enough about snow (I suppose we shaill have enough of it before it is melted). What a grand lot of letters you are getting just now. Really, Dot, I feel quite disheartened and disinclined to write to you when I see the capital letters that are written by Priscilla, Pauline, Coo-ec, Mona, Ziska, Ismene, Zillah, Nancy, etc., but I suppose if you wish to reach the top of the hill ' you have to begin at the bottom. Both Con's and 8.0.8.'s last letters were delightful. I intended to tell Ziska to continue wearing her initials in her hat, as some of the little folk that know them (the initials) might drop across her when in town; but I notice that Con was mistaken, and was also surprised to learn, that Ziska does not live in Dunedin. 8.0.8. says he would not mind if Dot turned ' out to be an old lady in cap and spectacles, because he rather likes old ladies. I wonder how he likes old gentlemen, as I was tdld by a lady who lives a few miles from here that Dot was an old gentleman, over 60, with a long, sandy beard, and I was told to ask when Dot's golden wedding was coming off. Well, when I was told by this lady that she knew who Dot was, I got quite excited and asked a lot of questions all at once, but this is all I (learned. I think Harry or Priscilla could enlighten us on this subject. But why should we all be so anxious to find out who this mysterious Dot and her writers are. Why, I think if we found out all about Dot and her little folk we should not write to her so eagerly. Mona's suggestion would be all right for the town little folk— that is, if Dot consented to let them become acquainted with eacii other. I sco Zillah has-been inquiring after Vida M,'Kellar. I, too, often wondered what had become- of her, and why shs was -not writing. There arc- others who have caused some anxiety lately, and whose names arc still missing from your column. These aro Trixie, Chum, Sybil, and Jessie C. 1 see that Coo-ec has turned lip again none the worse of a two months' spell. I have also found out from her letter that she lives only a few miles from me. Dear Dot, I am sorry that, you ard Ziska don't quite agree with 1:3 about signing our initials, but I wi II change if you like. The only difficulty will be in getting another name. T beiicve my own Christian name would sound as strange to the little folk as any other ; all the same I hardly think I will sign under that, but I might find a suitable one before I write again. Hoping my letter is not too long I will conclude by sending lovs to Dot and all the little folk, especially to Wullie, whose letter wo were all delighted with, although it was written in broad Scotch. So good-bye, Dot, as this i<s all ut present from C. C. M. [I do not know tint it would be desirable for you to change now, C. C. M., as we all know you by your initials, but I still think it would have been better if you had used your Christian name originally. One can get used to a name easier than to initials, and it seems more familiar.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — Seeing that nobody ever writes from this part of Otago, J thought I would let you know that there was such a place as Ratanui. It is a nice place in summer, but in winter it is very muddy. There are some very' pretty flowers in the bush, and also some 'nice ferns, of which I am vejry fond. Do you like reading, Dot? I do, and" I sometimes run short of books. I also like music, and my father says when I am old enough he will get me tauglit to illay the violin. "I like reading 8.0.8.'s nnd Ziska's letters. There are lots of bullock teams and sawmills down here, and I sometimes drive bullocks. Dear Dot, there ia a nice- beach about nine miles from here. Along the edge are a lot of beautiful ratas which look /very pretty in summer, and most people that come here to spend Christmas go to see them. In the bu3h are numbers of wild pigeons, kaka's, and wild bees. I will not stop, with love lo you and all the little folk. — Yours truly, liatanui, July 18. • MAPLE. [That is a very pretty picture, Maple, and I quite long to lie on a grassy slope on the edge of the bush a couple of months hence and listen to all the sweet sounds oi nature. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Kindly allow me to become one of your correspondents. I am greatly interested in your page. It is snowing here loday, and we are having grand fun snowbr.lling. Do you like snow, Dot? I do, although it is very cold. I would like to make 8.0.8.'s and Pauline's acquaintance. Such interesting letters they write. The general topic of your page is boys. I can quite agree with the girls that boys are awful teases. I have three brothers, and I can tell you I often wish them far enough. I think Maggie must be a very self-assertive person. Sho is always giving somebody a doing. I hope she won't get insulted and tramp on my toes, as they are covered with chilblains. I am waiting patiently for the Christmas Annual to be issued because I want to see how the photos turn out. I am sure you will never hear the end of it if your photo does not appear. I have a touch of toothache, and I can tell you it does not make a very pleasant companion. As this letter is getting long I will close with love to all the little folk, and not forgetting yourself, from PRINCESS. Edendale, July 25. [Dear me, a 'Princess among our correspondents. Now, little folks, put on your best company manners, and shov." her Royal (or is it only Serene?) Highness how well bred you all are.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — This is the first time a' hae written tae ye, but when a' read puir Wullie's letter, 0 'couldna help masel but sen' ye a wee bit screed. His braw Scotch wis sac gran', and a' wad hae lo'ed him masel', but a' hae a sweetheart, sac he mun jist get anither o' Dot's wee lassies tae lo'e him. A' like tae read the wee folk's letters ilka week, but a' like tho wee laddie's best. Like Wullie a' dinna gang tao the scheul; am aye needed at hame. Am a great muckle lassie, an' ma mither has nae hens or turkeys^ — a' wush ahe had, for a' aye like roosted chuckie an' eggs. We hao a nice big black cat. His name is Clooty, an' he is verra Scotch tae. He doesna' tak' up wi' ony o' the neebour folk. A' leo've in Christchurch, an' a' canna hae a wee bit crack wi' ony o' the folk becaase there a' . maistly English, an' they think am a forrpii lassie, sac a' was gled tae sco Wullie's letter. Wullie maun mak' allowance fur his faither being grumpy. Maybe the turmits were fashing him, for nabody but a mon fashed wi' -.uchlike wad daur tae misca' dear Dot, the lassie that gaurs gladness keek in at sac mony ingles, sac faur apart. Am thinkin' masel' it's a fairy that she is, maybe. Wullie's faither wis jist daurin' Dot tae pit her likeness in wi' the rest; an' maybe, he's as anxious as ony o' us tae see her. An' Wullie's mither ' needna think him a turinit heed, for he's nae ! sac muckle a' ane as oor Jock. Whan vre i leeved at Mount Cargill ma mither sent him for a bottle_ 0' vinegar, an' he cam' hamo wi' i tho neck o' the bottle in his haun', and geid i it tae ma mither, an' ma mither ciied oot, " De'il's in the laddie, haun' me the tawse, Nail,' an whan oor Jock heerd that ha ran awa', an' his mither oot an' she after him wi' the tawse, an' she chased him through the bush, an' a' ran after him ta help ma mither. But oor Jock wis ower wise for us, saa we couldna' catch him, an' ma mither yelled oot at him, " Ma certes, wait till yer faither comes hame — all tell yer faither," but ma faither's na' a grumpy man, an' he jist laughed. • Sac ma mither says till him, "Yo auld doo'.et! Y?r. wftwr aw tho laddie," But *' wia sled

| we didna' catch oor Jock, for ma milher tbdnir spare us whan she gaed us oor licks. Dear Dot, am longin' tae see tho Christmas Annual, but dinria pit the" tu'rmit iji for puir Wulhe. Good-bye, dear Dot, yer lovin' SCOTCH LASSIE NALL. Spreydon, July 23. [No, I'll not, Nail. I should havo liked ta have his proper likeness, Glengarry and all, but I'll not have any makeshifts. Poor Jock, however did he manage to break the vinegar bottle?— DOT.] Dear Dot,— Will you allow a country girl t<J join your interesting page? I have been thinkI ing about v/riting to you very often, but some,- , how or other I could not make up my mind ' to do so. Of course, I can't write nice letters j like Ziska, Harry, Pauline, 8.0.8., etc., but still I will do my best. I wish I could write letters like Ziska. I think, she is a darling. 1 would like so much to make her acquaintance. I wonder if she would think me impertinent if I asked her to correspond with me? Would you, Ziska? If you would, Ziska, Dot will forward you my address; won't you, Dot? I think Dot must be a very nice person, and I I wish I knew her. Dear Dot, can any of the j little folk go to the _ Witness office, and ba shown through it? Are there any special days when you can do so? I' should like to see it, and also to be introduced to any of your correspondents who may be there. Do not Paulina and,Priscilla write nice letters? So does Is-> r mene. Do you collect stamps, Ziska?'" I do ; I havo many foreign ones, and I would like to change with any one. As several of your . co-respondents are telling their age, heights j etc., I will tell you mine. Well, I atn I' 4 years, old,- and I shall be 15 in December. I do nof» know how tall I am, but last time I measured T was oft. So you can see I am far behind the other little folk. I don't -see any of the- ; little folk saying they are musical. Well, 1 ! v>lay tho violin. I have been learning for , I nearly four years, and people say I play beav- • tifully. 1 have to play at a concert, which' is j coming off soon down here. I don't like play j ing in public, f6r I am so very nervous.- I I sing also, but mostly I play. I like my violin ; now. Indeed, I could not do without it. At j_ first I used to cry when I had to practise, an<t j I used "to get out of my practice whenever, 1 could. How interesting the Liltle Folk's* P*ge is getting now; isn't it, Dot? At one lime it was nothing but " Dear Dot, — I have j a cat. Will you please give me n name for it," but now it is quite different. Most tha letters now are written by older children who have sense, and can write proper letters. Why, I even grqwn-up people read the letters now, and! I no wonfler when there aro such interesting j letters as those of Ziska, 8.0.8., Harry, etc. | It is snowing down hero now. Before I started. [ to write I had such a. lot to say, but as soon, | as I started it went clean out -of my head. Dear Dot, do yoii like dancing? I do. I am just learning, but I think it is delightful. I like the waltz best. Could any of iho'littla folk get me a complete set of New Zealand, stamps in exchange for Victorian and otheis? I want the new 3d, Is, 4d, 2s 6d, ss, and higher I of Now Zealand stamps. If they will, would: i you forward them for me, Dot? With love to Dot, Harry, Ziska, Pauline, Priscilla, Ismene, and the others, — Yours truly,' J MAEGUERITE.. [Yes, dear, I shall send the stamps on ta you if any come, and will give Ziska your r.ddress if she ask? for it.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I saw that in last week's pag< iye hud a. letter frae puir Wuliie. I thought a lot* 1 o' it, because I am Scotch myself, an' I lika a' woe Scotch laddies. I wild like tae drapfargether Wullio an' hae a crack wi' him. If he's jist oot frae Hame, 1 he'll ken' a bit abooir' the auld country. I wud like ta'e ken if h« came frae Glesga' or Edinbro' or the. lang tooif jo' Kirkaudy. Nop, Wuliie, ye micht thinlt--I yersolf lucky that he got off wi' a scoldin' fei. ! catchin' your mither's auld pensioner ben, fel I ii it had been me a' wud o' kent mare aboo{ a lit. Weel, puir. Wuliie, I hope your faithe^' will s;ive ye a wee bit o' paper, an' yell vri'M anither letter afore long, Noo, Wuliie, I lovi you if uano o' the ither wee folk dis. — Youri truly, MARY. Tsihatika, July 24. [There is some encouragement for Wullici and "I think he should be beginning to. feel | happy now. — DOT.J Dear Dot, — Our winter holidays were ov*.t a week ago, and I am going to school again; but I was not there to-day, as th» ground was- white with snow. Dear Dot, ,dc you like snow-balling? I do. My sister and j I had great fun snow-balling my eldest sister.^ Sho ran into the house, and of courae,' Dot, wo were stopped from bringing it iuta the house, or else sho would have takei* tha broom to u». Dear Dot, my birthday is ta--morrow, and I am. 11 years old.— Yours truiy.KATIE WEIR. Tahatika, July 24. [I wish you many happy returns of the da., Katie. I do not wonder at your big sister running into tho house. A little snow-balling j goes a, long way. — DOT.J j Dear Dot, — Since I wrote to you last my I prize Leghorn rooster fell into the .river andI got drowned. We are having very bafl'weath'ei. just now. It is snowing to-day, and everything. I is white. I am learning 'the piano and^ tli€. j violin, "and I like them very much. We have eight little chickens, and I feed them' every day. Father says that my pony is an awful nuisance, for he opens all the stable doors and lets tho horses out. I have a kitten "called Tiger. I havo also a canary. I must say-good-bye.—Yours truly, - OLIVE. [What an unfortunate end for the poor rooster, Olive! Your pony is a knowing little fellow, and evidently likes company. — DOT.3 Dear Dot,— l like reading the little folk's letters, bo I thought I would write one also. I ; am in. the Second Standard, and I like going to school. I have five sisterß and one brother, ■ and their names are Maggie, Jack, Elsie, Jessie,, Bessie, and Ellen. I have a dog, which I csi\\ ' Jack. We have three milking cows, and theii names are Nelly, Tiny, and Pansy. With lova to you and all the little folk.— Yours truly, MARY JANE CLARK (agod 9 years). Burn Cottage, July 2*o. Dear Dot,— l read the little folk's letters, s« I thought I would write one to you also. 1 have a cat, and I call it Sat. My sister Jessit , has a.little heifer calf; would you please giv«. . her a name for it. I go to school, and I am. in the Second Standard. Miss White ia oiu i teacher, and I like her very much. I have a sister and a brother going with me to school. Wo have a mile to walk.— Yours truly, MAGGIE CLARK (aged 8 years*. Burn Cottage, July 20. [Call the calf Rosie, Maggie.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— l did not describe all my animal*, ! for I have my canary, called Dicky, and my '' aheep, called Jinny, and she has a- lamb ; wilfc ; you please give me a name for it. I found I Jinny stealing turnips just now in the garden, ' and 1 got tho gardener to chase her out. Dean Dot, I have & nice little brother called Frank, and he is shaking tho table now so that I can.not write at all. It has been snowing all day, and in some places where it has been mea.-, sured it was over lft deep, so that we ara, properly snowed up. Dot, did you see the/ eclipse of the moon the other night? I saw it, and thought it very nice. It is very cold out~ ( side, but wo are not cold inside, ' with plenty, of fires. I liked the letter from the jlittia Scotch boy very much. Dear Dot,. I had myj. ' picture taken on Saturday, for though, X lil&JBt

Ihe "country, my father is a photographer, so I can often have my picture taken. Dear Dot, there is nothing more to tell you, so I will say good-bye, with love to you and all the little folk. — Yours truly, BRENDA. Shag Valley Station, July 25. [I am so sorry, Brenda, that your father did iiot take your photograph in time to have it in the group in the Christmas Annual. However, it cannot be helped now. Call the lamb Josie.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— What a jolly time your little folk are having writing to you, Dot. Dear Dot, did you see the eclipse of the moon the other night? The snow is lft deep just now, and it is hard work walking through it. I had my photo taken on Saturday, but I am sorry to see it is too late to -send it in, so I will not be in the Christmas Annual. It would be a good plan, as Nancy says, to have a paper of our own. The other day we made a snow man, and we got his photo taken. I liked the letter from «a wee Scotch laddie very much, and I think all the other little folk that can read Scotch will like it too. I think his father is rather cruol to him, don't you think so, Dot? •Now, Dot, as I am clean ran out of news, I •will stop, with fond love to yoii and all the 4ittle folk.— Yours truly, GORDON. Shag Valley station, Jtily 25. '[Well, yes, Gordon, I think Wullie' s father 13<a trifle severe. However, he may not mean it, and the gruff manner may hide a warm heart. I am eorry your photograrah is too late ior the Annual.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I have a few pets to tell you about. I 1 have a little grey kitten whose name is Fluffie, • and a, little black pony that is not broken in •yet. I have called her Phoebe. I am 10 year 3 (old-;- my birthday -was on the Bth of June. I Am the oldest of the family. We have four miles j.to drive to school now, before we had six miles go. I used to have a little pony that v/e j'drove to school, but she died, and so I have Jonly one now. We have a nannie goat, and jfather wants to get some more, but he doesn't lenow where to get any. AYe had a heavy fall ■pf snow, and of course indulged in snow-balling. X have a sheep dog named Don. Father says 2 must not write more, as you have so" many ■writing to you at present. Good-bye, Dot. — lYours truly, EDNA SMITH. , , v Manahune, July 25. j [You have quite a collection of pets, Edna. Jt suppfl.se Don enjoyed the snow-balling as much as you did yourselves. — DOT.] Dear 3Dot, — "We are having very bad weather Jiere just now. It is snowing to-day. Oar exa;xnination will be scon, and I hope all the pupils .will pass. I am not going to school just now. jThe teacher told me I was not to go until after :,the exam. I see some of the little folk aie sending their height. I am sft 2in, and I weigh 7ht ;; t 7lb. I made a snow man to-day. We had fine jiun snow-balling. We have a few flowers growing. I -wonder" what has become of Trixie and .Sybil? Wullie wrote a nice Scotch letter; I iwish he would write again. — Yours truly, NELLIE HURLEY. •tit is bad weather for flowers, Nellie, but the epxing is just on us now, and growth will soon : bejgin in earnest. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I like reading the little folk's letlotb, »3 1 think they are very interesting. We have pad some very heavy falls of snow up here lately. tThe hills about here are .very rough aud rocky. JEhe^re is a lot of pretty white rabbits here ; but itliey are very hard to catch. Deaf Dot, I have p. pretty little black and tan pup ; will you please .give me a name for it. I will bring my letter ,to a close, as it is getting late; so good-night, idear Dot.— Yours truly, ' ROVER. Kenmuir, July 21. 'fl think you have signed your letter with a Tvery good name for the pup; why not call him 'Hover?— DOT.] Dear Dot, — It is over three months since I jwrote to you last, so you will think I have ijuite forgotten you. There has been a lot of Bnow here lately, and it is lying on the ground yet, and it is very cold. 1 have not been to jßchool this week, as the snow has been on the •ground since Sunday. To-morrow is my sis•ter' Aggie's birthday, and she will be 8 yeaTs <>ld. Our examination is to take j>l ac e next {month, and I hope I shall pass. If I do I will jibe in the Fourth Standard. My brother John 'ds going to the Invercargill School in the train, he likes it very much. He will be 11 years pld next month. — Yours truly, ADA PETRIE. .Wright's Bush, July 26 [I hope you will pass, Ada, and that your -peek's absence will not present your doing so. WDOT.] Dear Dot, — I have at last made up my mind !to write to you, and I hope you will accept my better. I live on % station in. the country, and ■I have a, great many pets. I must tell you about my poor little cat, that had no tail. Her jname was Stumpy. She took the distemper "and died. We buried her in the garden, put jVeronica and macrocarpa round her grave, and a cross of wood in the centre. We have a white cat; would you please give us a name for her. 3t has been snowing off and on for three days. {Yesterday-- and the day before we had great fun playing snowballs. Some of the branches of the trees broke off- with the weight of the snow. We have snch a nice pony, we calMiim {fomrny.— Yours truly, - GAY -(aged 10J years). •Conical Hills, Pomahaka, July 25. [Poor Stumpy's death and burial were av.i.^ "[Pathetic. Snow would be the best name lo: ■%er successor. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live at Woodside, and go to the Woodside School. Mr Finlay is our schoolmaster, and we like him very much ; and Miss •Kirkland is our lady teacher. Dear Dot, we shall soon be able to get into our new school, as Mr M'Neil has nearly finished it. After it 'tis finished there is to be a concert in it, and Mr Finlay is teaching six of the schoolgirls jtwo songs and the actions of them. They are iealled " The red, white, and blue " and " The 'Japanese Fan." Dear Dot, it was snowing ? yery hard yesterday, and there were only 16 at church. Mother told me to ask you if you know what part of Scotland Wullie comes from. iWoodside is a very pretty place in summer, Rnd a great many people come out in drags from {Dunedin to Mr Mann's bush to have a picnic, lind perhaps you have been among them. Our .winter holidays are passed, and 1 enjoyed myjelf very much. Dear Dot, our exam, is coming on and I hope I shall pass, as I am leaving after the exam. I rmist stop now, so 1;ood-bye, with love to you and all the little oik.— Yours truly, AGNES WOOD. iWoodside, July 24. '[I hope you will pass, Agnes, and also that £our entertainment will be a thorough success, »s I have no doubt it will.— DOT.] ; Dear Dot, — As we have holidays on account fef scarlet fever breaking out here, I thought 'i would write to you and become one of your ijlittle folk, if you would allow me. It is very ?bad weather here just' now, and we have had a little snow, and, l hope it will snow a lot -yet, because we have such fine fun snow-ball-ing and making snow men. I live in a very pretty place called Portobello — at least, I think bo, and I would not go to live anywhere else -for anything if I could help it. Have you ever (been to Portobello, Dot? If you have, I think you will agree with me about its beauty. Some pther time I will tell you of excursions 1 have gone, sometimes alone and sometimes •with my brothers. Poor Wullie has a hard time of it, don't you think so Dot? I don't

think any of the little folk will stop from loving Wullie because he is poor, do you, Dot? I for one am prepared to love him, though per- I haps I could not be called a little folk yet. I ! think I will close, as it is near my bedtime, so with love to all the little folk and Wullie, not forgetting yourself, dear Dot, — I remain, yours truly, TUI/ [I quite agree with you, Tni, about the beauty of Portobello. I don't think there is any prettier piece of water scenery anywhere in the world than the Otago Harbour from Black Jack's Point to the Heads. Wullie should be greatly encouraged by the expressions of sympathy his letter is evoking. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I told you in my last letter that we were to have our holidays in July. They are over now, and although it was very wet weather, I enjoyed mine very much. My pister and I went to Wellington, and stayed with some little friends, Babs, Edna, and Freda. The Kilburnie tea-gardens were quite close, and we used to go there very often. The keeper of the gardens has six monkeys, three young ones and three old ones. An old lady keeps a shop in the gardens, where we used to spend our xnennies j on peanuts, buscuiis, au-d lollies. These we [ gave to the monkeys, who were so glad to have j them. Dear Dot, have you ever seen a monkey ? i What funny little animals they are. The gar- j dens are very nicely laid out. Some of the beds ( are round, others are square. If any of the can have afternoon tea there. If any of the little folk ever come to Wellington, they should go to see the Kilburnie Tea Gardens. I am sure they would enjoy themselves. With love i 1.0 you and all the little folk —Yours truly, LOTTIE EARP. ! Tawa Flat, Wellington, July 25. [ [I should think they would, Lottie, with all those attractions. lam glad you enjoyed yourself during your holidays. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I have not been at school for about a fortnight on account of the bad weather. My brother and I go to the Ngapara School, which is aboiyt four and a-half miles away. It started snowing here yesterday mornm%, and snowed all night, and in the morning it v.-as tip to our knees. Our examination is in September, and .[ hope J shall pas 3 into the Sixth Standard. The Little Folk's Page is getting very interesting. I think 8.0.8.'s letters are the best. I will now stop, as it is getting late, so good-bye.— Yours truly, NELLIE LITTLE. Ngapara, July 24. [It is a pity your school 13 so far, Nellie, and I do not wonder at your having been absent during the past fortnight. — DOT.J Dear Dot, — I am in the Third Standard at Fchool. vVe have four cows milking, whose names are Snowy, Polly, Jenny, and Violet. We had our midwinter holidays a while ago, but it was wet nearly all the time. I have a little brother named Davie, and to-day was his birthday, and he is three years old. My birthday is on August 28, and I will be 10 years old. I will now give the little folk a riddle: — " What smells most when you go into a bootmaker's «hop?" I will send the answer to the riddle next time I write. — Yours truly, Ngapara, July 24. THOMAS LITTLE. [You should have sent it this time, Thomas, and then I could have put it in next week. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — The ground is white with snow, and I cannot get out, so I thought 1 would write you a letter. Igo to school, anfl I am in the Fourth Standard. I have a mile to walk to school, and I do not like going on these cold frosty mornings. Dear Dot, I have ' a pretty doll with brown eyes and fair hair; will you please give me a nice name for it? I have'also three other dolls, whose names are May, Nettie, and Edith. Li the summertime we milk a lot of cows, and send the milk to the factory. I have a flower garden, but there j are not many flowers out just now. I like | flowers very much, especially violets and Toses. 1 Dear Dot, this is the first time I have written to you. and if you will pllow me I will write , again.— Yours truly, STELLA. j July 26. j [Of course, Stella, whenever you like. Call ] the doll Lily.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I will write to you to-day as I cannot go to school, there i 3 so much snow on the ground. The trees are all bending down with the heavy snow. Mother says they look lovely, and are often like that at Christmas time in the old country. We think it is nicer to have Christmas in summer. Numbers of little birds called waxeyes come about the doors. My sisters and I feed them with j crumbs, and they are so tame in the snow. ! i Our Sunday school is closed just now, the ! roads are so bad. You are getting a great 1 i many letters from the little folk. — Your 3 truly, j KATHARINE M. CLARKE. Wairuna, July 2G. j [Yes, Katharine, a great many. It i 8 good of you to feed the poor little waseyes, for I am sure they must be very hungry and cold just no v.-.— DOT.J Dear Dot,— l am writing you a letter for the sake of :&ping myself out of mischief. Thesnow i 3 lying -very thick outside, as there was a heavy fall last night. It is very tempting to go out and join the boys -snowballing ; but, judging by' the victorious shouting, the game is too rough even for a tomboy. "Dear Dot, don't you think the boys are very- rough in their play, and snowball a3 if their live 3 depended upon it? I see by the Witness that 'quite a large number of photos have been sent in for the Christmas Annual. They ought to make a fine group, worthy of any -country, but I must not grow enthusiastic over the subject. 1 would have sent in my photo only I have not had it taken for about four years. I hope you will accept this letter from A MOUNTAIN ROSE. Matakanui, July 24. [Yes, dear, I do think boys are sometimes a little rough in their snowballing. It would not matter if they would only snowball boys their own size, but wheu they tackle girls and little boys, it is going too far. I am sorry you could not send* in your photo. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — It ii a long time since I wrote to yoii. I read the little folk's letters every week, and like them very much. I live at the Talisman Beach, Shotover. There are two dredges working here on the river beach for gold. The river is very low just now. We have had very hard frosts lately, and some fine fun on the ice. Igo to the Shotover School. I am in the Fourth Standard, and my master is Mr Field. There are 72 children going to the school. We shall soon have our examinations. I have a little grey kitten, and its name is Tabitha. She is a playful little thing; also a pretty litle kid, whose name is Barney. The kitten and Barney are great friends. Dear Dot, I have a bride doll dressed in cream satin, wreath, and veil, with golden hair. Will you please give me a name for her. Dear Dot, I should have liked to send you my photo, but they are too large. The weather has broken to-day, about 4in of snow having fallen. The Remarkables look very pretty, covered with snow. I am learning the violin, so I must go and practise. With love to you and all the little folks, — Yours truly, DORIS MAY HENDERSON (aged 9 years). [A kid and a kitten — what romps they must have, to be sure ! I should certainly like to see them chasing each other. Call the doll Primrose.—DOT.] Two Comrades.— Next time you write send your proper names, do not be quite so boast-

ful, don't pick holes in everyone's coat, and don't introduce young ladies' names, and perhaps your letter will stand a little chance of being inserted. — DOT. Berwick, — Some poor, silly body in this district has again been writing a letter over a signature which does not belong to the writer. Fortunately, the person whose signature was forged takes the matter philosophically, and merely sends for the manuscript out of curiosity to see what kind of hand so witless an individual writes. Letters of this description are always dicta-ted by motives of jealousy, and evince a warped and distorted mind and a petty nature. I hope the person whose signature was forged is able to identify the writer, and if so I shall publish the name in full and call for an apology. — DOT. Ida Valley Boy. — You have evidently not been reading the little folk's letters very carefully, or you would have seen that I had stopped all allusion being made to the incident some weeks ago. You will, however, see that a letter appears from her this week. lam sorry you thought of the photo too late in the day. Try another letter, and I have no doubt it will meot with a belter fate than your first attempt.