LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLKS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2373, 24 August 1899, Page 57

LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLKS.

Dear Dot, — I stopped last week while telling you about the kitchen fire going out. Fires are a nuisance when you are writing or reading, aren't they, Dot? They always &eem to go out when they shouldn't, and you have to jump up and light them again in the middle of your letter, or perhaps in an interesting part of a story. But wo don't say fires are a nuisance on cold winter evenings. It is grand then, when thero is a big fir© on and yov have a nice book or are playing cards or draughts. That just reminds me — nan you play cards, Dot? I can only play one game, and that is eucbre. I did take a time learning to play it, too. Perhaps we would be playing a fourhanded game, I and my brother as partners. Someone else had picked up hearts. Then hearts were trumps. Suppose I had to lead, they would say : "You lead— don't lead trumps." "What's trumps?" They would say, "Hearts are trumps." I would say, "Then I wustn'i lead trumps — did you say hearts were trumps ? Of cour3« th«y would get angry and say: "You little silly, didn't I tell you not to play hearts?" Then I would lead my biggest card — the Jack ■of diamonds. Of course that wan the left bfiw.exj s«id, wsva hearts. Then p_£ course some-

I one would plunip the jack of hearts — the right bower — on top of it, and take it. Then of course I lost that trick. And so on. My partner would get angry with me then, and I ■would have a disagreeable quarter of an hour. But at last I learnt, and now I can play. I suppose we all have to learn. Some of the little folk are saying they are fond of reading ; well, so am I. I love reading, and nothing pleases rue better than to give me a nice book and tell me I can go and read it, and I won't leave off tilt lam finished. I like riding too. I hav6 not had a ride for a long time now, aud 'I really believe I have forgotten how to sit on a horse and which rein to pull. I would like to go for a good gallop now, because it is such a beautiful day. My toothache is coming on again. I suppose that is a signal that it is time I stopped. Oh, well, I shall stop in a few minutes. 8.0.8.'s last few letters have not been quite up to the mark. No, 8.0.8., they are not so good as your first. J suppose you think anything will do for the Little Folk's Page, but you, musn't think that, you know. Xcor boy, I feel sorry for you when you say you have to go out in the srow and chop wood. It was far nicer at the High School, wasn't it, 13. 0.8. ? Well, really, I must conclude now. Herp they are home from church, and I have ethers letters to write. I have been nearly an hour writing this letter, but of course I had 10 get up every now and then to put wood on the lire. i~roi>d-bye, dear Dot, with love to Jessie C, Ccoee, Rita, Myrtle, Lassie, Olr'e, and the rest. — Yours truly, MARGUERITE. Dear Dot, — We had exciting fun' during tiip siiow season — sledging down a frozen slide and having snowball fights. The exams are on, for the second term is drawing to a close, and our holidays approaching. j»ly deai sister and broth ei writers, lam afraid we are all found out, but never mind. We can't help it now. W e have been chummy for a number of happy \ears. Many' 3 the time I have laughed at the rather severe criticism on myself — especially at the last one. Some of the criticism came fiom souii of my mates, too. My norn €\>j plume is a common one, und so 1 have escaped detection for a Jong time. 1 ivas fu»fc found out by my brothers using one of the oIA ricknames I got at school. Emily, m one ol hei letters some time ngo say a she found will at JSweburn who I was. I guess tb-= v!r tcs will enlighten a few who are "no in the ken yet." We shall have to say: Weie. the. \oung settlers of New Zealand— the generation ju3t popping up." Lessons galore we are howrig now. 'lheie seems to be no end to them. I must therefore say good-bye, mates. TO DICKY DONOVAN. > Forget thee! — if to d/eam by night And think o£ thee by day, If a'l the homage, deep and wild, A schoolboy's heart can pay; If prayers in absence breathed for thee To Heaven's protecting power; If winged thoughts that ily to thee Ten thousand in an hour; — If this thou call'st forgetting, Then indeed thou ait forgot. _ HARRY 7 Bea-r Dot,— We have cuded our holidays and are very sorry, as uc enjoyed ourselves very much. " We had snow fights and tobogganing down the hill. If you had come up that snowy v/cok I'd have given you a jolly ride to the foot of the Kaikoiai on the old sledge. Over the frozen snow we went at a 'terrific rate. ■ It \va3 grand fun. The old Phil, took the baby on his kne», aad went pell-mell, and the little fellow enjoysd'rit. The little folk will be glad to know I jumped* the fifth hurdle— l mean psased the standard. Our Sixth Standaid master is the best in New Zealand. lam going to for a Sunday School prize. Surely ihty u..ght give me one after trying hard tc win one. The old Phil^ attends the night class as well as school by day. I'd like to have a chance of spilling a glue pot on his forid at school, b<wause he is so fond of learning he ought tc be glued to his seat and fed on boons. lam awfully busy just now. Love to all. — ■ Yours truly, SOLOMON SLOW. (.You wicked boy, Sol, to haibour thoughts of such a practical joke on your brother. You mvst have had a jolly time of it, but were you not afraid of the baby coming to grief? — Dear Fred,— You sent your letter but forgot to give your address, so T shall have to be indebted to Dot for the inse uon of the answeis to your questions. As to Hie first, Love is the goddess who puts golden spectacles over my eyes to view my master's forbearance and countless good tjualities. Siio also over my eyes places a bandage to prevent my seeing the faults and failures of my superiors. As for the second : Yes, I believe the Bible should be read in every school. It makes a good bediming to the day, and is a quiet pause before tho battle of school work begins. Even if our minds ati like sieves and cannot retain much, still the Gospel words going through will deanse them from dross that pometinies obstructs. At the school I am attending at present, the Guide Bcok is referred to every morning, and is as refreshing as dew to the plants. Ahem! You have a schoolboy's opinion on your two most important questions. If you send address I will try to find timo to answer the rest. Ask for the Guide Book, the Bible from heaven. For our salvation its pages weio given; If of a truth you are seeking the way, Ask for the Guide Boole, believe, and obey. —With love, HARRY. Dear Dot,— lnstead of a letter I send you an aniusing sketch showing how a thief was punished. It is called " THE MELTING STORY. One winter evening a country storekeeper in Green Mountain State was about closing up for the night, and while standing in the snow outside putting up tht window shutters, he saw through the glass a worthless fellow lounging within grab a pound of fresh butter frcm the shelf and conceal it in his bat. The act was no soonei done than the revenge was hi' upon. " I say, Seth," paid the storekeeper, coming in and closing the dooi after him, and stamping the snow off his feet. Seth had his hand on the door, his hat on his head, the roil j ot butter in his hat, anxious to make his escape at once. " I say, Seth, sit down. I reckon now on such a, cold night as this a little something warm would not hurt you?" Seth fell very uncertain ; he had the butter, and was exceedingly anxious to be off, but the temptation of something warm sadly interfered with hi 3 resolution to go. This hesitation was settled by the owner of the bitter taking Seth by the shoulders and planting him in a seat close to the stove, where he was iD such a manner cornered in by boxes and barrels that, while the grocer stood before him, there was no possibility of his getting out, and right in this very place sure enough the storekeeper sat down. "Seth, we'll have a little warm Santa Cruz," said the grocer. So he opened the stove door and stuffed in as many sticks aa the place would admit. "Without it you'd freeze going out such a night as this."' Seth already felt the butter settling down closer to his hair, and he jumped up declaring he must go. "Not till you have something warm, Seth. Come, I've p"»- a ,teiy to tell you," and Seth was fc Jim ru'-Ucd into his seat by his cunning tormentor. "Oh, it' 3 so I'Oi hen., 1 ' said the petty thief, attempting to ri^o. "Sit down; don't bt> ia suck ft linrrj," re-

turned the grocer, pushing him back into his ' chair. "But I've got the cows to fodder and the wood to split; I must be going," said the persecuted chap. "No, no, you mustn't tear yourself away, Seth, in this manner. Sit down ; let the cows take care of themselves, and keep yourself easy. You appeal to be a little fidgety," said the roguish grocer, with a wicked leer. The next move was the production of two smoking glasses of hot toddy, the very sight of which in Seth's present situation would have made the hair stand erect upon his head had it not been well oiled and kept down by the butter. "Seth, 1 will give you a toast, now, and you can butter it yourselt," said the grocer, with an air of such consummate simplicity that poor Seth believed himself unsuspected. "Seth, here's a Christmas goose well roasted — eh, 1 tell you it's the greatest in creation; and, Seth, don't you never use hog's fat or common cooking butter to baste it with. Come, take your butter — I mean, Seth, take your toddy." Poor Seth now began to smoke as well as melt, and his mouth was hermetically sealed jup as though he had been born dumb. Streak | after streak of butter came pouring from under his hat, and his handkerchief was already soaked with the greasy overflow. Talking away as if nothing was the matter, the grocer kept stuffing wood into the stove, wLile poor Seth sat upright with his back 1 against the countei and his knees touching the ) red-hot furnace before him. "Cold night, this," said the grocer. "Why, i Sc(h, you seem to perspire as if you were warm. Why don't you take your hat off? Here, let rue put your hat away." " No, exclaimed, poor Seth at ' last, "no, I must go! Let me out; lam not well; let me go!" A greasy cataract was now pouring down tho poor man's face and neck, and soaking into his | clothes and trickling down his body into his ! boots; so he was literally in a perfect bath of ! oil. j "Well, good-night, Seth," said the humorous I Veimonter, "if you will go." i And as he went to the door, the grocer said : j '• I say, Seth, I shan't charge you for that pound of butter in your hat, for the fun I have mid from you is v.orth iiiuepence." ZIP (aged 15). . j Oear Dot, — I am an old cat. I have caught j a, good many rats and mice, (/nc day I was out hunting along a hedge, and I got caught in : a trap by my back leg. I broke it when I was •trying to get out, and I am now i mining about on three and a-hnlf legs. I am getting very hungry now, so I must stop writing and go and see if I can get something to ent. — Yours tiuly, OLD CAT (aged 12 years). Spring Bank, Augxisi 14. [It is quite a long time since we had a, letter from an animal of any kind, and I was beginning to think 'they had deserted our page altogether.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live in the valley where 8.0.8. got stuck last Christmas when, he was going up the hill after ho had been pig-hunting. I have been looking iv the Witness lor him to tell about, going lip tho hill. He had to get an old horbe. to pull his trap and camp up the hill. I am in the Fourth Standard, and our examination will soon be held, and I hope to pass into the Fifth. I have a doll called Jeauie and a cat called Negro, and a black pony named Arab. We have had a heavy fall of snow here.^pnd we made a snowman, and put bits of trees 'on his head for hair. With love to yourself and. the little folk.— Yours truly, LALY (aged W years). [Laly knows 8.0.8., but I wonder if 8.0.8. knows" Laly ? I hope you succeed in passing into the Fifth Standard, dear, and that you do not find the lessons too hard. — DOT.] | Dear Dot.— We have four horses, and one of i them is a pony. Her name is Daisy Bell, and we have a side-saddle. My sister Isabella can ride, and 1 am going to learn, too, m the summer. I got my foot burned a few days ago. 1 would be very pleased to see your photo in the Christmas Annual as well as the little folk's. The ground is covered with snow just now, and the weather is very cold. With love to Dot and her little folk, — Youis truly, MARGARET FRANCES M'MASTER (aged 10 years). Arrow Junction, July 25. [I hope Daisy Bell does not hesitate to give her answer when called upon to take her rider quickly t< the place desired to reach. I don't think wo loam in the song whether she gives her answer to her lover's appeal, but I siipposo she does, and that the bicycle " built for two ' is called into requisition. — DOT.] i Dear Dot, — I am eight years old, and am in the Second Standard. I hope I shall pass the < examination, then I will be in tho Third. I j have dye pets to tell you about — two cats, two I filly foals, and a calf; would you please give me names for the foals and the calf. I have Mines for my cats — Tib by and Ben. I live far away, upon the Crowa Terrace. 1 have about half a mile to go to school. We have a very nice lady teacher (Miss Healey), and we like her very much. The first teacher I had was Miss Wilkins. I livo with my grandma. I had a part} of seven girls at tea a "liort time ago. The snow is 6in deep at present, and it is very cold. With love to all the little folk,— Yours truly, MARIA STEVENSON M'MASTER (aged 8 years). Crown Terrace, August 3. [You will be very glad to have got rid of all that snow, Maria, and should be happy now ! that spring has set in properly. Call the foals . Dinah and Donna and tho calf Primrose. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — The snow has been lying on the giound for a long time, but it is very nearly all away now, though we are having very hard frosts, and it is very cold. I have four brothers and one sister. We all go to school except my sister, who is not five years old yet. We have a long way to go to school now that the old bridge has been taken away ; but we expect to set a footbridge soon. — Yours truly, WILLIE WINKIE. Kelso, August 6. [I think all the school children who have to cross the river should wait on the county chairman and get him to hurry up the building of tho footbridge. I air suro he would listen to theii grievance. Take the matter in hand, Willie.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I am away for a holiday from* home, visiting some friends. There arc three girls in the house, and they have a brother. We have great fun, and we laugh a lot. I have four brothers and six sisters. My eldest brother is a shepherd, and works away from home. 'Two of my sisters live in Dunedin. You won't tell on oie because I told you, will you, Dot? j It is so nice when they come horne — I get a let of nice things then. I do wish the fine days would come, and the picnics. I like Scotch Wullia although his head is like a turnip. I wondei if the cows ever chase him. I am fond of dumplings, but I find Devonshire Dumpling sometimes hard to swallow. Don't you too, Dot? With love to you and the little folk,— Yours truly, FAIRY. [Oh, I think Dumpling is all right, Fairy, and I am sure we are all glad to, read her letters.—DOT.] Dear Dot, — I quite agree with some of you* girl correspondents in saying that bora arc a nuisance. I have four brothers, and they are such teases. I am veiy glad to see that Jessie C. has written again, as I thought she had quits

deserted our page. I like reading Pauline's and Priscilla's letters, as they are old schoolmates of mine. Dear Dot, do you like reading? I do. My favourite books are " East Lynne ' and " Uncle Tom's Cabin." I will now conclude with love to 8.0.8., Harry, Ziska, and yourself.— Yours truly, "DAPHNE. [Yes, Daphne, I am fond of reading, but do know, dear, I like something more cheerful than '' East Lynne" or " Uncle TomVCabin." Did you ever read " Alice in Wonderland," "Budge and Toddy," or " The Seven Little Australians " ?— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I think the little folk will need a paper for themselves soon. I go to the Kurow School, and am in the Third Standard. My teacher is Mr Kelly, and we like him very much. I shall be 10 years old on the Bth of this month, and I weigh sst; I am 4ft Bin in height. I have three brothers, whose names are Leo, Ernest, and Jack. Father has given us boys a Shetland pony, and his name is Jack. I have a little terrier pup; will you please give me a name for him? I have also got a goldfinch.— Yours truly, STAFFORD O'NEILL. Kui-jw, August 5. [Your goldfinch will be very interesting just row, Stafford, as he will be singing away merrily. Call the pup Snap.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — Tho little folk's page" is getting more interesting every week, and I hope some day we shall have a paper to ourselves. Ziska writes very interesting letters, and I enjoy reading them very much. I wonder where Trixie, Sybil, and D. D. have got to. I read the letter from Wullie and I liked it very much, and I hope he will "write again. It snowed here for more than a week off and on, and the snow lies thick upon the ground, and it is freezing very hard these nights. Igo to the Catholic School, and our teacher is Miss Donelly, and we all like her very much. Good-bye, Dot, with fond love to you and all the little folk — Yours truly, MARGARET SMITH. Pleasant Valley, St. Bathans, August 7. [I have no doubt you have got rid of the snow long before this, Margaret, and are getting fine spring weather like the rest of us. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I am in the Second Standard at school. I havp two dolls; please will you give me a name for one of them. Dear Dot. I cross a river in the punt every morning to go to school, and sometimes it is hard to cross when the wind is blowing. — Yours truly, ANNIE EWART. Quartz Reef Point, Cromwell, August 7. [Why, you haven't told me what the name of the named one is, Anaie, and if I tell you to call the other Violet it may be the name of its companion. However, if it is, yo\- must just write again and tell me. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — If you had been here a fortnight ago we should have had some fun among tho snow. I had some grand slides. I had a broad board, and took it up the hill, sat ov it, and gave it a start ; then I came down quicker than the express train. It was grand fun. I also went out with the dogs after bunnies, and caught a good many, for they could not run in the snow. It is nearly all gone now, only it is still a little cold. If you come up here in the summer when the fruit is ripe, 1 will give you plenty of cherries, for the trees are always loaded. I have never seen Dunedin yet. I would like to spend a week seeing the Museum and ships. I will tell you about my animals aext time. Good night, dear Dot. — Yours trulyr GEORGE. ,[That was toboganning, George, and I am sure it must have been very exhilarating. 1 am afraid I should have ha<? to be content looking on had 1 been present. You would enjoy a week in town, I am sure. — DOT.] Deai Dot, — All the snow has melted now, and we are very sorry, for there are no snow-fights now. Poor jock would have suffered if his mither had caught him. You remember, Dot, wlien Jock came home with the neck of the bottle in his hand? Dear Dot, T have a mate, and he is always saying he is going to write you, but he is a long time about it. This is a pretty place in summer, with a beautiful garden, and I think all the flowers you could mention, and we have a little boy on the place who is just throe years old, who would tell you the name of every one of them if you will come up and see him. 8.0.8. does not write such long letters as he used to. I think he is like myself — run out of news. I am going to give a riddle which I hope will puzzlo the little folk : " Why is a lollypop like a horse' " With love to 8.0.8., Harry, Nancy, and all the little folk —Yours trulyr GORDON. [I should dearly like to question the little tot about the names of the flowers, Gordon. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — We had a very heavy fall of snow this year, and I have heard some people say that it is the heaviest fall they have ever seen since the year 1878. Wullie wrote a very nice letter, and I hope he will write again soon. I saw in 8.0.8.'s last letter that he complained of the hard work he had to do. If that is all compared with what I have to do, it isn't much. But I had better not say much more, or I shall have 8.0.8. at my heels. Before I started to writo you this letter I had plenty to say, but when I started it all went clean out of my head.— Yours truly, TWIN. [Perhaps your memory will serve you better next time you write, Twin. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — The ico on the pond is so thick that we can slide on it. We had great fun on it, but I came down four times, but did not hurt myself one bit. I see that Mary has been writing a Scotch letter, and I think that it is very nice. Dot, was it Ziska that said she knew 8.0.8. ? If she did, I would like her to tp.ll me what his real name is. Dot, do you think that 8.0.8. is writing so well as he used to do; I don't think so. Dot, I was very pleased to see my last letter in print. What a lovely month August is compared with July, Don't you think so, Dot? August is all sunshine and lovely, but July was all rain and snow, and the snow is nit all melted yet. Are there many letters that you cannot read, Dot? I should not like to be you, for I cannot read any but my own, and not always that. Wo have three beautiful swans; will you please give mo names for them. Two of them are white and one black. We went* down to see the two white ones the other day, and | fed them with bread. It was great fun to see the male bird gc for Turk. Up went his wings, and he made such a noise that he gave me a fright, and Turk ran away as hard as he could. As this is all tho news, I will say good-bye, with love to all the little folk and your own dear self. — Yours truly, BRENDA. Shag Valley, August 11. [I suppose Turk is a little doggy, dear. Did you tell me about him when you wrote before? If so, I have forgotten. How nice it is to have such graceful pet 3 as swans ; you should, indeed be a happy little girl. I am »!moft tempted to give you the names of the three graces for them. The Romans paid there were i three sister Graces, bosom friends of the | Muses. They are repi'esented as einbracirg ■ each other to show thai where on» is the other | is welcome. Their r.&men are Agloea. Shatea, ; and Euphrosyn*. T!i<* Ust is a little long, but you nii'^ht call it I'inoay. — DOT.] Deai Uot,--f .mi a littl* girl, and I want to write a Lik le"ai to you, but 1 am not able to do it, as I an. too young , but I will writt a big letter like 8.0.8. sou;o day if you will let me become one of your correspondents. 1

1 liave a little baby brother, and also a doll, ami I want you to give me a pretty name for the doll. Dear Dot, I think 1 have told you all this time, so good-bye just now. — Yours truly, ALICE. [Alice has had to get her sister to write her letter this time, but in two or three years she 1 ' will" no doubt try what she can do herself. 1 think Violet woul'" be a nice name for her doll.— DOT.] Deai Dot, — Here I am again, writing to you and the little folk. It seems no time since I last wrote, yet, let me see, it is just three weeks— quite a long time, isn't it ? ■ Dear me ! I wish I knew what kind of news the little folk like best — it would make it so much easier to write. Such a lot of thoughts are uppermost j in my mind just now, and I do not know which ! is uppermost. Before I forget, Dot, would you ! rather have a boy or a girl correspondent, beI cause it would be very easy for me to convert myself into a boy at the shortest notice, and nc one would miss Rita? Perhaps a letter signed Moki or some other Maori name would be more appreciated. 8.0.8. must feel very nervous when he sits down to write a letter to you, for he must know that every word is read by an admiring : crowd -of little folk. Why, you cannot cast | your eye over a column of ■' the page " without | seeing 8.0.8., 8.0.8. Look at Cooj cc's last letter, for instance. Good-* j bye, Dicky Donovan, we shall indeed 1 miss- you; but perhaps you will change i your mind and write now and again. I think I if you would name some of your St. Clair j friends 1 could tell you something about most j of them. George Palmer, for instance, is now ( George Palmer, B.A. Well, this will ba very, i dry to most of your friends, Dot, ao I must try j and rake up some more of my " uppermost | thoughts." Last Wednesday week and last ; Saturday I went out to the Caledonian grounds '. to see the football. Oil, Wednesday there was . a tremendous crowd to se"e the Wellington v. I Otago_ match. The first spell was not very interesting, but towards the end of the second* when Otago had one and Wellington two tries, it was very exciting. The Otago teßni had their j opponents right on the line, and people were ! just yelling with excitement. ' My word, it was close. Scrums and line-outs were frequent, , rmd I thought Otago were going to get over the ' line; but, alas! I was doomed to disappointment, for the bell rang, and the game waa , stopped, the score being 6 to 3 in favour of I Wellington. My throat was so sore that nighf | and next morning with barracking. The match [ on Saturday (Kaikorai v. Alhambra) was more interesting. It was the final for the Senior Flag. As the Kaikorai have held it for nino years, a lot of people wanted to see a change. They were disappointed, though, as the Kaikorai won. There must have been between 6000 and 7000 people at the match, and you should have heard the cheers as Duncan, the X.'a general for the past six or seven years, came on i to the ground. I Last Saturday we went foi a row down the • harbour. I know it was very wrong of me, bub i when my brothers asked me to go I could not ,' resist the temptation. The wind got up a 1 little, and we found it pretty hard work to I get back against the tide. However, we manj aged, and had a good look at the dredge pulling I up bucket after bucket of mud so a3 to mak» a channel for the larger steamers coming up to Dunedin. Father was not a bit angry with. j me when I told him where we had been, so I . suppose- he will let me go again. ] One clay last week wo went for a dandyj ) bicycle ride. There were three of us, all girls, I and we intended going to Mosgiel, but by ths j time we got to the top of Saddle Hill and saw I »an inviting little tea-house wo changed our 1 minds and went there instead. After having a I cup of tea and some biscuits, we went out and! j watched the sun set. The sky was just glori-i . ous— -all crimson and gold. I do love- a good ■ sunset, don't you. Dot? This was so lovely I that we forgot the time. I suppose you know! i that Saddle Hill is pretty steep, and on the top. I is a notice " Dangerous for Cyclists." Well, I we just didn't look at that notice, and rode all j the way down. My bike nearly got away once, I and I got such a scare ; but " All's well that ends well," and we got down all right. I can • assure you, we wished thero was no such placa as Look-out Point. We had to walk all the I way up and a good deal going down, some parta I because it was too steep, and others because ifc | the road had iust been metalled. However, we I were able to ride through Caversham, and soon, j got home, and proved that afternoon tea has no i pffect on a healthy girl's appetite. Last Wed- | nesday night my cousin and I went to hear I Madame Trebell" in the oratorio "Tha j Cieation." Wo were rather late, and j the big Agricultural Hall wft"? packed. HCowever, we got standing voom upstairs, and afterwards managed to get a, chair between us, and glad we were to get it. I don't know how many there are in the Choral , Society, but there must be more than a hundred, and they sang splendidly. Some of the trios were very pretty, and also the solos, which were taken by Madame Trebelli (soprano), Mr Prouse (bass), and Mr Puschell (tenor). Well, Dot in my rough copy, I have a iongr description of "The Cliffs," but I think, perhaps, I had better hold it over, as you will bo tiring of all this, especially as the writing is none of the beat. I see in this morning's Times (Tuesday, 15th) an article on the " Southern Cross," which might interest 8.0.8. and others. It seems the party landed near Cape Adare, where they started building a house and landing provisions, but were hindered greatly by terrific gales, which strewed the decks of the Southern Cross with pebbles frorr a mountain some distance off. I do not envy those poor sailors wintering on that de-« solate spit of land, do you. Dot? Well, goodbye, littlo folk.— Yours truly, RITA. Dunedin, August 11. [My dear Rita, I like all my correspondents to be perfectK natural, as if they are not -they cannot possibly be pleasing. I like your letters very much, knowing that they come from a, j dear little girl , but if Rita were to change her i norn do plume to that of a boy I am sure ha. ! letters would not bo nearly so attractive, be- , cause they would not appear so natural. Really, dear, you should be more cautious about your bicycle iaunt<?. The fact that you wera nearly nine miles from town when the sun waa setting should have made you anxious to get home, instead of staying to "watch the sun dis- | appear, no matter how beautiful the sight might have been. No, I do not envy the Antarctic explorers, Rita. We have had a cold snap thia winter ourselves, but we certainly have not had uebbles from a mountain thrown at us vet DOT.] Dear Dot, — Have your survived this cold weather? But I don't suppose Dunedin i*

lalf so bad us it is up here. We were delighted- ■ When we first saw the snow, thinking what fun we should have, but we have had enough of it 'now. If one of our gullies could be transplanted into the Botanic G-ardens at Dunedin, •just as it is now, what crowds of people would go to see it. The icicles are hanging from the cliffs in all lengths, like beautiful lumps of crystal, and where the spray has fallen below the ice lies in great boulders. The shrubs on either side look as if they had been mounded out of glass, and when a sunbeam falls on it it looks like a fairy scene. I see that the little folk are telling their weight and size, but 1 jlon't see any of them saying they are bigger than their mother, like I am. lam very sorry for poor Wullie, but I d,on't believe he has such a hard time of it as he makes out. His letter reads very like an old Wullie who has written in a,nother part of the Witness. I woncler could he give me the bill-of-fare for a good Scotch dinner. Dear Dot, if I sent you a stamped envelope, would you send me your autograph, telling me your birthday, so that I could paste it in my birthday book. I wonder if any of the little folk would let you send me theirs as well, foi I know you could send me a large number. I would like to get 8.0.8.'5, Harry's, Ziska's. Jessie C.'s, Pauline's, Priscilla's, Doughnut's, and some of the other principal writers'. 1 don't promise to send them a silver mug on their birthdays, but ■I might send them my blessing. I feel sorry for 8.0.8., who with all his writing talent, lias to turn wood-and-water Joey. It is enough to make him run away and fight the Boers, but I wonder he does not make Moses draw it. I quite agree with him that the bathing ought to be stopped this cold weather. Mother often gives it to me for having a high- water mark on Iny neck. Dear Dot, are you the same Dot that used to answer the letters long ago? My '■eldest sister, when she was quite a little" girl, used to be always writing to you. but somehow the letters never got posted. One of them 45omehow or other g(st blown down by the bank, •where it was picked up by someone. Dear Dot, we had a cantata'up here called ''Esther," and it came off on one of the coldest nights we have ] had. We had to dress in white, and vre must have looked a lot of ghosts, sitting there shivering on the stage. Our conductor was a man ■without any mercy, and he kept us singing there as if we enjoyed it; but it passed off all right, and the people said it was very good. The Wesley ans, in whose aid it was held, had a good supper ready for U3 after it, which we all enjoyed. Good night, Dot. I mull close now, as it is past bedtime. — Yours truly, NANCY, j [Your description of your icebound gullies is most interesting, Nancy, and even a photo of one of them could not fail to attract attention if i shown anywhere on the coast, where the frost is nothing like so severe as in the highlands of the interior. Yes, dear, I am willing to send j Dot's autograph, as you desire, and will forward on to you any others that are sent for you. Of course, I am the same Dot. dear; you don't think I could ever change or grow old, do you? How could I be Dot if I did anything so foolish as that?— DOT.] D«nr Dot, — I have four brothers and one sister. One of my brothers goes to school, and is in the Third Standard, while the others are pretty well grown up, and my sister is married, j Do "you like boys, Dot? I don't. I cannot ! get on with my brothers at all, they are too | ■teasing for me. lam staying with a person who has got a little baby boy a few weeks old, and we want you to give us a name for him, ' as his father and mother can't decide what to ] .call him; so we thought we would come to you j for assistance. It is not very often you are asked to name babies, so try and give us a good name for him. The baby has got a little sister about two years old, and she is such a queer little thing. How is it that the little folk have stopped sending stamps for the kindergarten funds? If you like batheing you had ■better pay our town a visit. At about Chriatznas time there will be baths ready for use, BO it will be a good chance for you. I think •I have told you about all at present, so will close, with fondest love to yourself and the little folk. — Yours truly, A NURSEGIRL. [There is no need to send stamps for the kindergarten just now, as they have funds from the bazaar, but if occasion arises again I shall let my little friends know, and we can Btart another list. Ido not care about suggesting names for babies, as parents are always the. best judges of what is most suitable. If they really cannot find any suitable name, why not call him Augustus, aftei the yjresent month? Or they might call him Albert Edward, after the Prince of Wales, or George, after the Duke of York, or if they are Liberals he might be named Richard • Seddon or John M'Kenzie, bo you see there is plenty of Choice if they would only consider the matter well.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live at Waimumu, and lam 11 years old to-day. I have a little white heifer calf; will you please give me a name for it. I have also a little pony, and 'its name is Rob Soy. We have 14 cows, and we milk for the factory. We live near the Waimumu dredge, and there are a lot more dredges being built. The Glendhu tramway runs through our farm. They trolly the coal down to the dredge on it with horses. I have four brothers and three sisters. Their names are John,' James, Thomas, Nellie, Annie, Alex, and Mary. — Yours truly, ROBERT MILNE. Waimumu, August 8. [With a Rob Roy in the family you surely want a Helen M'Gregor, though it is a somewhat long name for a calf unless she is likely to be a prize Ayrshire. If you think it too long, Robert, call her Wild Eileen.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— l go to school, and I am in the Fourth Standard. Ono of my brothers caught a swamp turkey to-day, and we had fine fun with it. Dear Dot, the sea is on one side of where I live and the river on the other, so 1 am, like Robinson Crusoe, on an island— don't you think so, Dot? I have to go in a boat to get to school. We have got a lot of bush, and there are some pretty ferns in it. Dear Dot, do you like ferns? My sister has two Soils ; will you please give her names for them. —Yours truly, LENA. August 5. [Well, you have the satisfaction of knowing that very few little girls can say they go to school in a boat, Lena. Yes, dear, I like ferns. Call the dolls Pearl and Ruby.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — It Is a long time since I wrote last. We have had a hard frost down here, and the ice was so thick that you could slide on it. Wfe are having fine games at our school, including rounders. There are 22 children attending school. Dear Dot, when I was at our Sunday school yesterday I saw Cooee there. The fishermen down here are catching any amount of blue cod at Force Island just now. 1 have a cat, and its name 'is- Maori -Chief. Don't you think that is a pretty name for o cat, deur Dot? There was a sea lion killed down at Nugget Bay last Thursday, and its fat tvas, I heard, about 4in thick. I am so sorry tc hear about the loss of the B.s. Waikato. 1 was out fishing last Saturday, and I enjoyed it. I think thts is all I can say just now, so good-bye. — Yours truly, REOMANU (aged 10 years). Willshire Bay, August 14. [I wonde how Reomauu knew Cooee. Reoinanu will be pleased to hear that the Waikato is likely to turn up all right, though her passage lias bb cpu e pu lengthened considerably by the accident to her machinery.— DOTJ

Dear Dot, — There has been a heavy fall of snow, and we had grand fun snow-balling. Thefe are no flowers out just now. We had a week away from school on account of the snow. The mornings are very cold. ' I have not had chilblains yet; hare you, Dot? — Yours truly, KATIE. [Well, yes, Katie, one or 100, but I don't mind them as it is easy to get them away if you persevere with using hot water. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live at Waitahuna, which is a very pretty place in summer. I like going to school, but Ido not like staying at home. I like reading the little folk's fetters very much, especially 8.0.8.'s and Harry's. Ido not understand "Wullie's letters, as they are broad Scotch, and I am Irish. — Yours truly, E.T.D. [I don't think anyone need fail to understand Wullie's letters, E.T.D. There are very few words in them which cannot be understood by a little thought.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — We are having very frosty weather. The mornings aTe very cold, but the days are j warm and pleasant. We had a very heavy fall of snow about two weeks ago. We have one dredge and four hydraulics at work in this district, and they are all doing very well. We have a new teacher at our school. I have a doll ; please will you give me a nam. for her. — Yours truly* PRIMROSE. [Primrose's doll should certainly be a Violet. —DOT.] Deai Dot, — I have been greatly interested in the Little Folk's Page lately, and I thought I would become one of your little correspondentF. I am living in the country at present, and I have been in it for over three years. Before we came here we lived in Dune-din, which 1 liked very much better than this place. How well I remember the morning we left Dur.edin, and how excited my two brothers were to get into the train, and all the friends on the plat form to whom we had to say good-bye. When we got to Lawrence we proceeded to Waipori in the coach, reaching our destination safe and sound, except for a little shower of rain that came on before we reached our journey's e<id. I am so glad that summer is coming round again, because I thought the winter cold, though I am very sorry that the slides wil' be all gone. However, it is no good woirving about such things, is it, Dot? I know Pauline and Miss Muffet well, Dot, and I think they can write very nicely. Poor 8.0.8., what a lot of hardships he came through, but tell him to be of good cheer, as things don't always go wrong. This is all at present. So good-bye.— Yours truly, GWENDOLINE. [Xo, dear, it is no good worrying over what cannot be helped. If people could only brins themselves to realise this how much needless heart-burnings would bo avoided.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I have not written to you before, but have often intended to do so, and now m\ intention has become a realisation. What a grand page the Little Folk's is becoming since 8.0.8., Harry, and many more hnve taken to writing. I most decidedly side with you, Dot, in your wishing that the bickerings between the boysand girls should end. Perhaps, after all, Alys's uncle did not make his remark sarcastically. No doubt he thought that such " distinguished people" as the little folk are should have a distinguishing mark, and then, dear, Dot, don't you think it would be an advertisement for your paper— more especially if a photo oi one or more of the contributors to the D. P. were to appear each- week. I have been to the Times Office, but, curious to say, did not think of you ; bv-t I apologise most humbly for my want of thought in this respect. Perhaps you remember some girls coming from a certain school? I have some mementoes of my visit. Those awful stairs!— l thought I should never get to the top. They are, for all the world, like a corkscrew. I was having Harry described to me, so that if I met him I should know who he was ; but I cannot think of his surname, so I only wait till my friend comes down to learn it. He goes to the same school as Harry. I agree with the two M.M.'s about 8.0.8. being a hard case. You asked what was the meaning of that term. Well it simply means what it says, a " hard case." Now I am quite sure you must be a deal wiser for the explanation, are you not? On the 27th of July I was at a dance, given at the opening of the George street School Gymnasium. It was very enjoyable. I did not get home till 3.80; was not that a shocking hour for a schoolgirl to get home? However, owing I to having thoughtful parents, I had aot tc pass the night— oh, what a blunder! I mean the rest of the morning, on the clothes line, debarred from the snug precincts of my bed by a locked door. To-night I am 14, but before this reaches you I shall have entered on my fifteenth year. " Deary me, am I not getting old?" But I suppose I cannot remain young for aver. Being an optimist, however, I must look forward to the future and think of being a grandmother with grandchildren clustering round my knee (D.V.). But I must really stop now, Dot, for I think I have written quite enough for my first attempt. Hoping to write to you on a future occasion, — I am, yours truly, ECHO. George street, Dunedin, August 13. [Then I am to understand, Miss Echo, that a hard case is a hard case, and nothing more or less. Well that is comforting. A hard case can't be a Eoft thing, so I snppose I must rest content with that little bit of knowledge; but between you and me, dear, I don't behove one in a hundred who use the term knows what the meaning of it is any more than one boy knows what he intends to express -nhen he tells another that he is " red hot." Echo is looking forward, when she is already dreaming of the time when she will have giandchildren clustering aroimd her knee. Get as much enjoyment out of your young days as 3'ou can, dear, and don't bother about your old oaes in the meantime.— DOT.] Deal Dot, — I have always been going to wite to you, but it is only now I have plucked up courage to do so. I was glad to see a letter from Jessie C. in last week's Witness. I thought she hd quite deserted our page. Dear Dot, I was at a birthday party th 6 other day, and 1 enjoyed myself immensely. We kept up dancing and singing till 9 o'clock, and then -we went home, after spending a very enjoyable evening. What n. pity Dicky Donovan has stopped writing. I think he must be a little ' i conceited, or else he would keep on writing 1 till after Christmas. Dear Dot, what a lot of | interesting letters you are receiving, and what a lot of new correspondents you are getting. I would like very much to join in among them I have not seen a letter from Priscilla lately. I think she is one of your best correspondent'". I thmk it would be very hard to pick out the best correspondent, don't you. Dot? Dear Dot, I am one of the unlucky girls, because I have no brother, but I suppc-e sonic o: your correspondents would say I am very lucky, but I don't think I am. I don't know any of your little folk, Dot, but I am sure I should like to know Priscilla, Ziska, 8.0.8., Mona, Harry, and Rita. I think they are all charming young persons. Dear Dot, were you at any of the picnics which were at Evansdale. I suppose you were. Now, dear Dot, I must bring my letter to a close, so good-bye, Dot.— Yours truly, SILVER BELL. August 14. ["Silver Bell!" What a pleasant sound! I am sure we shall all like a correspondent whoso letters have the ace Dnipaniment of such

nmsic as that. I am glad you enjoyed your- '. self at the party, dear.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — Since I wrote tc you last I ha-ve had the measles, and I did not like them very much. You have to stay in bed for a long time, and it is not very nice, except to those who like being in bed in cold weather, i ad '■ not like lying m bed. When I got tired of u«:«. ' I said J wanted to get up, but my mother said ' no, I must not get up until all the measles were away. So I had to stay in bed and j anmse myself the best way I could. Dear Dot, | have you had the measles, yet ? I suppose you have. Such a large number of little boys and girls have had the measles. The school was closed for two weeks because not man} children were coming to it. Through having the measles, I did not have any slides on the ice this winter, and I am very sorry I did not. The ice was very thick, but the snow came very thick, too, and spoiled the ice. The snow lay on the ground also, and the children snowballed everybody they saw going down the street. Dear Dot, do you like the snow? I don't; 1 think it is too cold altogether, but I do not mind the ice. The little folk's page is getting very interesting, and with such a large number of letters every week I think there will have to be a little folk's paper very soon. I like reading 8.0.8.'s letters very much. I think he must be a very clever boy to write such long and interesting letters. I should like to see 8.0.8. and his wonderful horse Moses in the Christmas Annual. Spring has come at last, and I am very glad indeed. The dear wee flowers will be springing up out of the ground soon, and they will look very pretty. 1 don't like winter, because it is too cold. Do you like winter, Dot ' It is very cold down in Dunedin in winter time, is it not? I had a very bad toothache one day, and I thought I would tiy youi cure — that is,, a little bit of camphor, and it made it better. I think I will stop writing now, with love to all the little folk, and not foi getting yourself. — Yours truly, JKAN CLOSS. } Alexandra, August 12. [It was much bettor to have the measles in the cold weather, and lie snugly wrapped up while it was freezing and snowing outside, j Jean, than to be laid up m the hot weather, j when the bedclothes would have felt too heavy for you. ] am glßd the camphor relieved your ! ■ toothache, dear.— DOT.] ! Dear Dot,— l read the little folk's letters ! every week, and 1 like them very much. I am 10 years old, and am in the Third Standard. It is very frosty up here, and the mow is very deep, ihe little Scotch Laddie's letter was* very good. I wonder if Dicky Donovan is asleep, foi he has not written foi a long time. Dear Dot, would you be kind enough to send me all the dances. I must conclude now, with j love to your little folk and yourself. — Yours ! tiuly, IDA JOPSO3NT. | Hough Ridge, August 10. [Why,' Ida, I think it is you who have been ' asleep. Did you not read Dicky's letter, in which ' he told us that it would be his last to our puge, I as he had passed out of his teens and com- J menced his twenties 9 And then, again, the dances — why, it is onlj a week or so ago since they were published in Emmeline's page, so look them up, dear, for I cannot repubhsh them immediately, you know. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I enjoy reading the little folk's page very much, some of the letters are so interesting. I like reading the boys' letters, but I thing that some of the letters that the girls write are still nicer. Doesn't Maggie give the boys a turn of her mind? I always like her letters so much. My word, she is a " hard case." lam longing to ccc the portraits of your numerous correspondents. I hope you will also decide to put yours in, Dot. Dear -Dot, are you fond of nmsic? lam getting to be quite fond i of it now, but I did not care about it when 1 learnt first. I have got a cold at present, Dot, and I am afraid that it will last some time. 1 i am very fond of reading ; I like Ethel Turner's , books best. I used to go to a gymnastic class ! here, but I found that enough time was taken i up with music and lessons, so I gave it up. I 1 liked it very much, and if Iliad got three more , marks I should have had the second medal. , What kind of weather are you having in Dun- | edin, Dot? It was lovely and sunny this morn- | ing, but this afternoon it is rather dull. x \ think I will now draw my letter to a- close, with love to the little folk, not forgetting yourGWENDOLINE (aged 11). Gisborne, August 10. [It seems that 8.0.8. is not the only "hard case" we have amongst us. I wonder how poor Maggie will take the information that she is to be bracketed with 8.0.8. in this respect? I think you were wise in giving up the gymj na=tic exercises, Gwen, as there is no \ise tryI ing to do too much, for it can only result in i something being done in a slipshod manner — I DOT.] Dear Dot, — We have been having very fine weather lately— hard frosts and bright, sunshiny days. Three or four miles fiom here are the Purakaunui falls, and in winter these falls are a very pretty sight. The track into the falls is but a common bush track, and in one place the stream is crossed by a log. We have a few flowers out, some of which are primroses, daises, and snowdrops. The bush here is very pretty, and there are some lovely ferns in it. Do you like ferns, Dot? I must now conclude, -with love to yourself and the little folk.— Yours truly, SNOWDROP. [Yes, deai, I think they are lovely. I should have thought the falls would be prettier in summer. What makes them so pretty m winter' Surely they are difficult to get to when the ground is so soft. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Your page is getting very interesting, so I thought I would like to join it, if you would allow me to become one of you. correspondents. I have no pets to tell you about, except a cat; will you please give >i" a name for it. lam in the Fourth Standard, and our examimuiou will be corning off sco/i, and I hope to pass. Dear Dot, I like reading 8.0.8.'s and Harry's letters. I think it is a very good idea of sending the photos to be put in the Christmas Annual. I was glad to see that Devonshire Dumpling and Doughnut have turned up. We just want Trixie and Sybil and the page will be complete. I will stop now, with love to all the little folk and yourself. — Yours truly, Catlins, August 15. SANCHO. [Call the cat Lin, Sancho, and then you will have n combination which will form the name of the district.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— l am 'going to try to puzzle the little folk. I want them to try and guess whether I am a boy or a girl by the name 1 shull sign. As 8.0.8. says, snow is the order of the day here. We have had five falls of snow, but it did not lie any length of time. I just love to go out in the snow, and especially to build a snow man. Dear Dot, I wish you were here. We have a dandy slide about eighty yards long. Wo get in a box, a-nd away we go. It is a wonder to me that we don't get hurt. You will be surprised to know that I am a schoolmate of Nancy's. Dear Dot, when Igo to Dunedin I shall go to see you, so I will say good-bye, with love to you and all the little folk. — Yours truly, J EREBABELWINKLERPUFF. [I really am not sure whethei this dreadful name will all come into one line, but if it won't I must ask the printer to stop before he comes to the end of it, as we really cannot spare two lines for a signature. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I am an old dog, and my master uses me for rabbiting. My name is Fly. Don't you think that is a nice aaiae? Ono

day when my maste- was out rabbiting he set rue after a white ferret. I had a long run after the ferret, and it made me sweat. One morning my master was going to town, and he took me with him, and on the way I got caught in a rabbit .trap, and I started to yelp. When my master went out to rabbit one day, he found a covered rabbit hole, and I started to scrape aid my master dug it out, and there were five joung rabbits in it. I must stop now, as my paw is getting sore. — Yours truly, PLY. Spring Bank, August 14. [Fancy a fly chasing a ferret ! It was pretty daring, was it not?— DOT.] Dear Dot, — There was a bachelor's ball here the other week, and a few songs were given during the evening. I see Jessie C. has a letter in the paper. Welcome back, Jessie! I thought you had left the page. How interesting the Little Folk's Page is now. It is the first thing I turn to. About two months ago our teacher, Mr Field, went away, and our new teacher, Miss M'Kenzie, has been here for about a, month. The school was closed for five weeks. The boys at the school built a house of tussocks and rushes, and also a sod chimney. They used to make tea every day. About a week ago, when all the boys were outside, the house caught fire, and soor nothing was left standing but the chimney, which. was all cracked with the heat. Some of the boys then knocked it down. The teacher came out, and seeing the flames she came over to where we were. She took the billy of water back with her and boiled it for the boys. Was it not a bad end to the house and chimney which the boys had taken so much trouble over, Dot? We have been having grand weather here lately. The bush beside our house is very pietty with wild flowers and ferns in summer. I live in a fanning district, and the paddocks look very pretty aaid green in summer. Our nearest neighbour is a mile away. There arc gold mines about seven miles from our place, but I don't ihink the meu are getting much gold. A good while ago two men were buried by a fall of earth wliilst cutting a race. I must now say good-bye to Dot and the little folk, with bc=t lovo frcin, — Yours truly, SNOWDROP. August 15. [What, another Snowdrop! I nrn afraid that will cause confusion. As you are second, dear, [ think in luture letters it will ba a* well to sign Snowflake. It was indeed a pity that the playhouse should be burnt down, but better that than the school. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — We are having very cold weather up here, owing to the severe frost. - I have one little wster called Edith. We have had our winter holidays, and I sppnt them in bed with the measles. Before we came here we lived in Ophir, but we have been nearly four years in Alexandra. Igo to school, and am m the Sixth Standard. My sister is in the Second Standard. Alexandra is quite a goahead place owing to the dredges, which are scooping up some big returns. I v.ill tell you more about Alexandra next time 1 write. — iTours truly, JOHN SULLIVAN (aged 11J years). Alexandra, August 15. [Veiy well, John, I hope you will not forget. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Dad went to town yesterday, and he brought me a box of dominoes. Jan, the kitten you named for us, is lost, a.nd we cannot find her. The measles are up here now, and I am just getting better of them. ' It is a very lovely day to-day, and the sun is shining bright. My Uncle Harry gave me a watch on my tenth birthday, in November, but il stopped about three months ago, and would not go, so dad took it to Mr Millar, a watchmaker in Timaru, but he was not at honip. There is a lot of snow up here, Dot, and we have grand fun snowballing. And so now I must close my letter, as lam getting tired. With love to all the little folk. — Yours truly, ERNEST. Canfield, Fairlie, August 9. [I hope Mr Millar will fix up your watch, I Ernest, as I am sure you will miss it very much. You are evidently none the worse for your attack oi the measles. — DOT.] Frost. — I am not quite suie that your letter is not intended to have a hit at the teacher, and therefore I do not insert it. • Majrguemte. — It was too late to make the alteration. Well-wisher. — Please send your full address. I have a parcel to send to Wullie from Rita, and I am not quite sure that the address 1 have would reach him. Ei. T. — Yes, the photos will be returned whei the artist is done with them.

ANSWER TO LAST WEEK'S RIDDLE. By A. and M. : — Because the drier they are the better they crack.