LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK

Otago Witness, Issue 2375, 7 September 1899, Page 57

LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK

Dear Dot and Little Folk,— lt is with a curious mixture of feelings that I sit down to ■write this my last letter to the page devoted to Dot's army of little folk. But in the meariime 1 must endeavour to explain my long silence. Well, for a good many months I hi t \e been thinking very seriously that I had better end my career as a little folk, and that is why I have delayed writing. lam getting too ancient altogether. I thought at one • time of jiofc writing at all, as I thought that the r.iemory of Sybil would gradually fade away ;i,lo oblivion, and a new Scrybler would arise and •take my place. But fetter thoughts prevailed, as you see, and I write you this as a long and Bast farewell. I see that Dicky Donovan, of everlasting memory, has made his exit very gracefully, I will admit. Adieu, Dicky, and may the gratitude of one whom you thought too insignificant to even' have a spai with be ■with you for ever and eve*. My gratitude of course deals with your qualities as a ' sn*lce epinner. I feel a bit queer to-day, Dot. The •Witness will come as regularly as ever, I sup.pose, but it will be to me like a memory 'jot the days that are gon«. Perhaps in the years to come you may read in the Witness fit A red-cross nuiee whose exploits and deeds

of daring on the far-off battlefield will cause" you to drop a tear of sorrow (I mean a sorrowful tear) on tho paper. And — who knows ? — perhaps that same red-cross nurse might lead an army to victory (if all the others were dead or asleep, of course) at the cost of her own noble life. And a cry would go round for 8.0.8. — an illustrious -V. C. by that time, I hope — to jot down the last words of the dying hero (I suppose I should add the " me," but that spoils the effect altogether), to be handed down to posterity by a grateful nation. And the memorial in the centre of London but that will do, I think, as in fancy I hear the drip of tears on the paper as you read, and I feel too overcome to continue in this strain. Now, girls, just a word to you, which I hope you will take in good part. Be persuaded by me, and leave the boys (ahem!) — that is, the young gentlemen — alone. Remember those old lines: Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Dear Trixie, please excuse me for not answering your nice little letter long ago. I can only plead laziness. Thank you, Doughnut, for kindly thinking of me. Well, the hour draws on apace, and it is nearly time for me to take farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness (?) Trousers (that immortal hero of a thousand battles) sends his adieus. He sits on my shoulder as I write this, his head moving with the pen. (Of course I mean imaginary battles:) I shall always read with interest the Little Folk's Bage. Why, already I feel like one of the big folk. My cousins Will and Vena left for Melbourne last week. They come home again in November. Cousin Prim is going to England for good in February, so I guess I shall be pretty lonely. Well, the moment has come. Good-bye, Doughnut; Trixie, C.C.M., Cooee, Rita, 8.0.8., Harry, and all the little folk, both great and small. Good-bye, old page. The sun sinks low, and the soft breezes of regret steal round me. Regret, alas! that I am growing old. Good-bye , tor ever to the dear old Witness. In future 1 shall live as one apart from, with no anticipation in, the dear old paper. I sit by the river as I write, in a corner that I look on as my own, shared only by Trousers (and water rats and beetles), a wild, weird, lonely spot, which I love, and I suppose I grow fanciful (and poetic). The sun sinks lower, and a faint silver streak appears in the blue expanse. The sun is gone, and 1 the bright young moon sails through fleecy clouds. The breezes moan on the dark swift river, and far away the ocean, song-softened by distance, croons a long, sad good-bye. The stars come out, twinkling bright. It grows dark. Dear Dot, I cannot see to ' write more, and the soft winds make "creepy" noises in the toi-toi and dead raupo on the 1 bank beside me. Good night, old river, Goodbv.?. dear, kind Dot. Farewell all. SYBIL SCRYBILS. Dear Dot, — It is quite a fortnight since the above effusion was composed, and the sun has set and risen too a great many times since -then, and that young man 'that I raved about has grown old like myself. I intended burning the foregoing as rubbish, Dot, but it sounds a bit poetic, so I thought I would rewrite it and send it, Dear Dot, don't you think it awfully mean of those persons who purloin the other little folk's names? It must annoy you, and I think that is the last thing anyone should do, when you take pains to make the page so very interesting. I admire and agree with 8.0.8.'s sentiments, anyway. Dear Dot, I do enjoy reading the C.C.C. articles in the Ladies' Page. I wonder if the day will ever come when-I shall be clever enough to contri^ ' bute. I am delighted to think that Japan and Italy are Emmeline's favourite lands. I should so much like to travel in those countries. I think Japan must be a beautifully -quaint 'country, with its neat, clean houses and its chrysanthemums and cherry blossoms. I wish I could write as I feel, as Emmeline writes. After those two countries I think Bohemia and Egypt would come next. But there, lam forgetting that this is not the Cosy Corner Club. The Witness Christmas Annual will b3 very interesting this year, and I think I shall enjoy reading " The Toll of the Sea," as mamma- says that Fnbisui Bell is a splendid writer, and she would like to know, dear Dot, where a list of h n r works could be obtained. " Fabian Bell," is not that a sweet, quaint name, dear Dot? I fee that my letter is lengthening, but you'll forgive me, Dot, seeing that it is my last. I have not been out for a " bike " ride for ever so long. Rita is a famous rider. I like Rita's letters, but then there are so many nice ones. I hope Shasta will continue to correspond. I am afraid that the editor will have to start a little folk's page independent of the Witness if the letters continue to arrive in such shoals. I see that affairs are very cloudy in the Transvaal. Perhaps there may be a chance — a, very remote chance — of dying on the far-off battlefield after all. Bottle up your tears, little folk, for who knows how soon you may have to shed them over the memory of a departed hero (me). I have just lead S. R. Crockett's " Sir Toady Lion." I think it is just splendid. General Napoleon Smith was the proper sort of a hero, and, like him, " *»ay I die and rot if ever I am dasht mean." I -wonder how long I shall keep that resolution. I am afraid that the string will tug pretty often. But here lam scribbling \ about a book that most of the little folk have never heard of, I suppose — selfishness, as per usual, but as this is my last letter, excuse me, please, little folk. The sun is sinking low 1 again. There must be some sort of fatalism } in always choosing the hour of sunset to write j to the little folk, but after all it is a most , appropriate time. Tobogganing seems to have I been a very popuar amusement this winter. Did you ever hear the Chinaman's version of 'the game, Dot? This is it: " Sh-sh-sh-sh. AValkee back two mile." Dear Dot, I have a young collie dog ; will you please give me a name for it, the only one I have ever asked for. I think I should think more of it if you would give me a name for it. Well, the time has really come this " twist," and no error. Good- • bye all; with heaps of love to everyone, for 1 ever and ever. I remain, yours very, very ' truly, 1 SYBIL SCRYBILS. f [Dear girl, I can scarcely write for the chokj ing feeling at your regretful severance of your j much-appreciated connection witn our page. I I of course recognise the necessity of all our best ! writers gradually dropping out as they begin to find themselves on the verge of man or womanhood, but the announcement of retirement is none the less a wrench to me, and I am sure it will be to all the little folk. Do take your place among the contributors to the Cosy Corner Club as soon as you find a subject you , think you are competent to deal with, and 1 .am sure if you tell " Emmeline " how Sybil Scrybils's letters to Dot have been appreciated . by one and all, she will assist you in every way . : possible. Now to reply to your questions, dear, "' Fabian Bell " has not yet published any oi her tales in book form, most of them having only run through the columns of the Witness, though one accepted by a Home firm ran through a number of papers in England also. She will be very pleased to see your remarks about her. Have you any further use for your norn de plume, dear? If not, why not call the collie Sybil Scrybils? Wouldn't it seem familiar and nice, and it would make such a lasting connecting link with Dot's page. — DOT.] < Dear Dot, — I shall begin this epistle by making a guess as to whom Jere — (What is the awful name?) is. I was trying to remember ■what is was without looking, but I find I have to give it up. Jerebabelwinklerpuff, isn't it?

Well, as "it" said that "it"* is eehoolmato of Nancy, and she is 0 girl> I think that " it " is a girl too, as girls do not often have boys as schoolmates. Am I right, J. ? I can't posbibly write that name again, as it takes up too much space, and Dot couldn't print it twice, could you, Dot? Poor 8.0.8., no wonder you did not laugh at the notion of swallowing the note after getting the consequences of passing it. I can sympathise with you. Wullie seems to be a nice boy, but what an awful picture of his father, mother, and himself. Surely they are not so bad as yoii picture them, Wullie? It is a wonder that ycur head wasn't sore when the ordeal was over, and did you have any curls, Wullie? Because if you did they must have gone pretty flat, with two hands laid so very tenderly on them. Rita says she thinks there are more than 100 in the Choral Society, but there are over 300 performers. I was at the concert too, bufc our seats were leserved, so we had no trouble in getting them. Did you go, Dot? I hope Rita does not change her name to that of a boy. It would uot be quite true to sign a boy's name when you are a- girl, and you write such nice letters. Harry, you are turning into a poet. You ought to write a small pamphlet of poetry, and send one all round to Dot and her little folk. Don't you think so, Dot? Isn't it terrible about Armit being so badly hurt. I don't suppose he will be able to play again if he does get better. I think the footballers should be more careful, but football is not a nice game. It is too rough, and the players don't seem to care if they hurt others at all. I have got the badge on my hat, but . it is not very well put on, and I think a small buckle, one of the oblong steel ones, would be easier to put on, and they wouldn't look funny. They are not dear, either. Are you willing to try, little folk. I am going to; you will know me, anyway, by the monogiam on the front, and. I got a buckle to-day and put it on my hat. Priscilla once asked me what I thought she was like. Well, is this description correct? Tall, dark, pale, "divinely fair," or the very opposite. Don't forget to tell me, PriscflTa. I suppose we all should say good-bye to Dicky Donovan, but I say it very unwillingly, but here goes : Fare thee well, and if for ever, then fare thee well. Will that do? I don't know what G.C. stands for in Doughnut's letter, but, like 8.0.8., I will have a try. Ghost Club of Gobule Club? Did you see an advertisement in the Daily Times, dear Dot, about giving prizes to thcJse who get the most words out of "pelargoniums"? But before going in for it you have to buy 5s worth of sweet peas. My sister is going in for it, and has got a good number now. I know a good many who are trying for the prizes. No one has said much about a meeting for the little folk. I want to ask if the Dunedinitee — Rita, Priscilla, Echo, pnd the others — will meet at the" end of Manse street, by Hopkins' s shop, on jihe 16th of September, a Saturday, at half-past 2, and proceed out to St. Clair for the afternoon, and if you come we will know each other by the number at the corner, and perhaps some of you, as well j as I, will have the buckles on your hats, if you are agreeable. As Priscilla lives out at ! St. Clair, we could meet her there. I will come, and I hope with all my heart you will all come too. It will be such a disappointment if you don't. Dot, dear, I hardly like to ask you to come, as you mightn't like it, but I should just love to see you there too. Do say you will. I am sure we would all like it much better if you were there. lam saying the time because some say it is a good idea, but we never fix a definite time to go, so you must excuse 1110 if I don't say it in the right way. If it is wet on the 16th we could go the next Satmday. Dear Dot, I was dreaming about you last night, and was talking to you and doing all sorts of nice things, but, alas ! when I awoke in the morning, " it was but a dream, love." Doughnut has been doing her hardest to make me laugh all the time I hajje been writing this letter, but, thank goodness, at last she has departed. I hope to finish in peace. Thi3 is a terribly long letter, and I will be tiring out Dot's patience if I don't stop. So with love to Dot and the little folk, — Yours truly, MONA. [ I may bs there, Mona, all unknown to all of you, just to see if I can make out all my correspondents who think fit to put in an appearance, but I can't promise, dear. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — After tho trials and vicissitudes of this week's school-hours, I hope that by writing to you I shall forget the wearying routine of school lessons. If you knew how often I am scolded for laughing so much in school, Dot, you would not tell me to enjoy myself while I am young. I would scarcely do that unless I was happy. Do you think that B. O. B.s letters are as interesting as of yore ? I do. I thinTc they are quite up to the mark. Some of the members seem to think they are not so good of late. Mona is a champion worth having, and is worthy of the esteem of the little folk, also of some big ones too. Don't you think it would be very nice to have a certain hat band, a light blue, with. M. L. F. in cieam? I think this would be very pretty. I suggest the light colours as the weather is finer, and I think they would be preferable to dark ones. It would be nice to recognise a little folk's writer and be able to smile at him or her without having to be .first introduced. What fun it would be trying to find out who one another is. If we were to wait for an introduction perhaps we should have to wait a long time. It will bo nice to see the photos of "The Budding New Zeaianders" in the Christmas number, and I do hope you will put yours in, Dot. Surely you will find it hard to refuse after &o many appeals have been made to you. What a poet Harry is, if those verses are his own. Ido not take after my namesake, do I, Dot? Echo was a nymph, so the story runs, who, because she could not many Narcissus — a beautiful young man, who seeing his likeness in a fountain fell in love with himself — pined away till nothing was left but her voice. But the Echo who writes to/you has still the use of her right hand. A dancing class has beon started at our school, and my sister and I both learn, although we have learned dancing before. I don't agre with some of your girl correspondents in saying that boys are nuisances. What should we do without* them? A little girl at school, when asked of what use boys were, unblushingly remarked that they were good for courting. A young man who thought he was a poet wrote a "-Spring Poem," and took it to an editor, who asked him to bo seated, and what was his business. He started- " I have here a Spring " " So have I," said the editor, touching a knob on his desk which was connected with the chair, and the would-be poet made a flying exit. I do hope that tho editor of the Witness won't be tempted to do the same to you, Dot, but he mipht if you keep on taking him such a number of letters. But let us hope such a crisis may be averted. I am so sorry to see that Dicky Donovan has left the Little Folk's Page, as I am sure all the readers enjoyed his letters, even those girls who think that boys are nuisances, but the best of friends must part, and I think it about time I parted with this pen and ink, so good-bye for the present. — Yours truly, ECHO. Dunedin, August 26. fDear me, Echo, I wonder where the marvellous editors that we read about live. I dont think our editor would shoot out spring or any other kind of poets that way. I haven't tried him with poetry, but I may do some day just to see what the result will be ; and when | I do I shall let you know all about it. So far as the letters are concerned, I must admit that he looks very anxious when opening my packet and I heard him sigh wearily once or twice when there was material enough for two full

pages of small type, bill hi! knows ho will get a rest when the summer is here properly, so he has not remonstrated with mo yet.— DOT.] Dear Lassie, — You want me to tell you all about yourself and where you live. Well, how am I to do that? ' How am I to know whether you are a boy or a, girl, or whether you live near me, or in the Taieri Plain, which you seem to know so much about. As a matter of fnct, I' know nothing about the Outram school, and never played football there in all my life. You also want me to ask you up for your Christmas dinner off the little pig. Well, you muy come with pleasure if you think you have really discovered where I live, and if the pig is alive then. He is not very well now, And I think we shall havo to kill him. Poor little fellow. Are you not sorry for him? ' But, there, if you want to have dinner off him, I don't see how you can be sorry. But I will have to stop, with thanks to Dot for inserting this, and good night to yourself, from LADDIE. [Oh, my, dinner from a sick pig, even if it is a little one. I should think Lassie will decline with thanks after that.— DoT.l Dear Dot, — Mother says Wullie can't be the " real Mackay." He gives himself away with that photo. Was there ever such a photograph taken? He speaks of washing little Janet's pinnies and little Davie warming the bed for him, so I suppose they must be his sister and brother, if so how is it they are not in the family group? Mother says if Wullie had meant his father to represent a St. Kilda Islander he might have passed muster, as only schoolboys wear G-lengarrys among the Lowland Scotch, and the women don't wear tartan shawls and white mutches. These are only worn by old women in the Highlands of Scotland. If he went to school in Scotland he must have learned to read and write English as they don't teach broad Scotch there in school. But perhaps we may understand him better by-and-bye. lam soriy for B. O. B. carrying water and wood. I know what that sort of thing is, for I have to do it myself. I suppose he will be dropping out of the Little Folk's Page soon as he will be getting too old. Good-bye to Dicky Donovan. We are having such lovely weather now. The winter scorns to be all over, and the birds are beginning to sing. — Yours truly, F. L. O. August 37. Dear Dot, — I really never expected to find a correspondent writing to you from this remote part of the country, and it was quite a surprise to me to find that I knew Nancy (at least I think I do). Why, Nancy, you did not look at all like ghosts, or if you did you were very musical ones, and could make plenty of noise. Ghosts are supposed to make people shiver, but I was far from shivering. I enjoyed the j cantata immensely. I will take far more in-terest-in your letters in future. lam afiaid | you will not be able to place me. I wonder who that other correspondent is with the terrible name (a girl I fancy), but I cannot think of anyone I know who could invent such a I jawbreaker, and I would beg of her, him, or it (the name might imply either) to have mercy on U3 by beheading it. The last syllable is "puff," I think; well, please sign yourself that way, or, like the name, end in snioke.^ I've been getting a bit of a doing lately for suggesting that you should not put your photo in the Christmas group, Dot. I'm very thankful that pen and ink do not hurt much, for had it been I instead of my letter I'm afraid I should not have survived the ordeal, and you would have , .had to print a tombstone with the inscription: EXIT BOY. He's gone to rest. '; Attacked by the girls, He stood not the test. But I think I'll survive. Why, Mona, those were not my reasons at all. I never saw Dot, nor do I hope to. Such selfish reasons as those would have been abominable. Certainly I , have an ideal Dot, but I may say she has not got wings, neither does she wear a golden robe and carry a wonderful magic wand. Oh, no. If she was all that I'm afraid we should not keep her down long. Dot may be a nice smiling young lady; but then again how would it look if the group appeared .with a squint-eyed, sandy-whiskered visage (of which you could see nothing but whiskers and glasses) for a centre (it's quite possible). Thoilgh, Dot, I don't believe that you are any such personage — I'm only stating xoossibilities, an d. I think if that occurred some of your correspondents would receive such a shock that I don't know if their nerves would stand it. Old Boy bears out what I said. It's the mystery that lends the enchantment. Now, take "Civis" : if we knew his identity half the gloss would be worn off his work. About that badge you suggested, Mona. As most girls go bareheaded half their time I think they would have to have it on their dresses. Now, I wouldn't undertake to walk through Dunedin with initals' pinned on my hat. "D.C." means Dot's Correspondent, but again it might be interpreted as " Deadly Coffin," " Death Census," or " Demented Creature," either of which would be bad enough. Dicky Donovan has retired gracefully. Well, Dicky, I'm sorry to have to say farewell. You seem to me like an old friend now. Eeally, I should like to shako hands and have a yarn with you, old chap. But we'll have to prevail on you to write occasionally. Another yarn like those you used to write would go well just now. But as you have said good-bye, you will have the best of good wishes for- your future welfare from all, I think. I can't express my thoughts in rhyme like- Harry. I'm not a poet, but with all xny heart I wish you good luck and happiness ns you toddle along life's pathway. Now, Dicky, accept a suggestion from me. You are the second to leave us, and so that you may not be entirely out of Dot's circle, why not obtain his address and correspond with Con? Now, I would like to a3k for that privilege myself, but I can't. You might in after years thank Dot for such a friend as Con. But me — wpII, good-bye, Dot, with love to all. — Yours truly, BOY. [Oh, Boy, what a fearful imaginary Dot you depict as your alternative to the smiling young lady. It is a good thing you qualified the suggestion, or I really think I should have felt hurt.— DOT.], Dear Dot, — We are having very fine weather just now, but a little frosty in the mornings. We have got rid of all the snow at last, and I don't think anybody was sorry. There is a road through a plantation near us which, whenever a little snow thawed and was frozen over at night, became like a sheet of glass, and a horso couldn't stand on it. Indeed, one man was Tiding along it one day, and his horse fell with him. Since last writing to you I have been nearly killed, but thanks to a merciful Providence I escaped with only a few bruises and scratches — when I say scratches I mean I had my legs and hands a bit skinned. My uncle and I were mustering, and there are a lot of-.Jimestone cliffs near us which are many hundreds of feet high. There are certain places in these cliffs where sheep can get up or down. Well, I was coming along the top and the sheep went down a very steep place. I thought I would go down after them and put them right to the bottom. There was a- very narrow track down the cliffs, and I got down it a little way when I was confronted with some scrub ana had to sit down on the limestone to getjoast it. Up till theu I had been progressing very favourably under the circumstances, when all at once I slipped down for about 20ft to where there happened to be n piece of rock jutting out. On this I landed full .tilt with botb. feet;, and theu took 9, full header

[ for about another 20ft when I rolicci for nuothei* 15ft. It was a miroclo I was not killer). Don't* you think sc, Dot? It does not look vcrv bad or. paper, bufc I do not wish to repeat tho Herformance. Does Ziski know Mr J p," of Messrs J p and E y, bicycle makers, repairers, picture [rumors, etc.,- etc.? lie is a great friend of mine. I saw him hore a few days ago but I did not ask him if he knew [ Ziska. I suppose, Ziska. you would be at J the football match at Victoria Park iv your town a week ago. I mean the rep. match, beI puse the other was not much account. We had a day s shooting yesterday. There were four or us with three guns and we only got two hares. We must have seen two or three dozen hares. They are very wild, though, and we could not get near them. Before closing I would like to refer to the departure of one of our best writers from this page— l mean Dicky Donovan. We shall miss his capital letters, wh lc h, besides being interesting, were very- int?£ T*? t+hosel^°t + hose l^° ha £ had no experience of farm or > station life. If we were to act on a. U. B s. suggestion we might persuade him, to come back. Hoping we have not seen the last of D. D.,-^I am, yours truly, LADDIE. [You had indeed a narrow escape, Laddie, and I I can well imagine how thankful you must have been on reaching the bottom to find- you were' I sound in wind and limb. You will be sorry to ' see that we aie losing another of our good .writers It makes me feel quite anxious as to who will be the next to go— DOT.] £ear Dot -This time last year I was away enjoying a holiday. I was away for 13 weeks, s;> I had a good long holiday. We are having beautiful weather here just now. I went for a delightful walk on the ' beach yesterday Un August 1 I was at a progressive euchre party, ana, needless to say, I enjoyed myself very much. Well, Dot, wonders will never cease! I have found out that C.C.M. is my cousin— at least, my second cousin. I yonder- if you know which one of your numerous cousins I am, C.C.M. ? I've never seen you, but I know your threo eldea* ! sisters Ask your sister Mary if she remembers when I used to tease her about '\kid gloves" and lubricated oil." I used to have great fun when she was staying at our place. Oh, iJot, J. must tell you about a great many misfortunes which befell me the other day. First of all, when I was cleaning the dining room windows I was clever enough to put my hand right through one of them. Th«n, at dinner + mm i e> n?i? a full JU £ oi cream «H over the table. -Then at night (it was a beautiful moonlight night, and I suppose I thought I hadn't" done enough mischief for one day) I climbed up to the top of a fir tree to catch some young hens which I wanted to put in the hennouse. However, they were not going to be taken m so easily, so one by one they flew down beforo I could catch any of them. 'When I was up at the top of the tree I thought Iwould have a swing before I came down" I was enjoying it immensely when all of a sudden the branch I was standing on broke. Oh my didn't I get a fright. The branch I was hanging to was not extra thick, and I was very much afraid it would give way under the weight of a great • nine-stoner." But I managed to get down safely at last. I had a very sore shoulder for a few days after it, though. 8.0 B. seems to have found out that life iff not all beer and skittles (especially in wintertime;. I will give him the fl uotation*l alwaya get when I start complaining: " Do the thing that's nearest, Though it's dull at whiles, Helping when you meet them, Lame dogs over stiles." — Yours sincerely, The Country. ALYS ' ' [Very good advice too, Alys, and I hope you endeavour to act up to it. You had n series 01 mishaps, and I hope they will liist you three months without any more, dear. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live in Mataura, near the "oldfields. They all say that I am the plague of the family, and a,m good for nothing but getting out of work and dping mischief. One daylast week I got hold of my brother's bike and tried to ride it; but before I had gone twoyards, down I came all my weiglit on the hard metal road, bruising my hands and tearingmy clothes. This put me off getting on ife again, so I took it inside and did not say a word about my clever riding. The next day I got one of my schoolmates with me. His name -is Frank; and that very night we went to the men's huts to have some fun. They gotr Frank smoking an old pipe, which soon made him sick, and they laughed at him and said in fun that he would die, but ho soon got all right again, and when we went homo hs said he would never undertake to smoke a pipe; again. I have a little pony; will you please give me a name for her. She has never had a foal, and I don't think sho ever will as long as I have her. With love to you and the little folk — Yours truly, PIN. [There is a name for a boy! It seems sharp, anyhow, and I think correspondents had better he.-tifcate before attacking the writer in case they get a pin-prick. Call the pony Nell. — DOT.] Dear Dot,— l am in the Third Standard now, haviug just passed the last exam. My age ia eight years, and my height is 4ft 3 in. Wo have got a fortnight's holiday ' from school, and I hope I shall enjoy myself. My birth-) day is on the 3rd January. Dot, I have a large yellow cat, and I should like you to give me a name for it. I was not taught to write vevy much in the Second Standard, but I hope I shall be taught better in this respect in tho Third. — Yours truly, ROBERT GOURDIE (aged 8). August 22. [Call the cat Goldie, Robert.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — If I don't write to you about ones every week or fortnight I will perhaps be missed out of your little band. I see your band is increasing nearly every week. I told you that I would write and let you know if I passed.. Well, so I did, and now I have left school. To-night 1 am seeing how many words I can get from " pelargoniums." My brother ia sending you a short letter, and he says that he wonders if it will be put in print. I think it is so small that it will scarcely be noticed. To-day has been the hottest day that we have . had for a long time, but I wonder what it will be like down south. Now is the time for the flowers, Dot. The violets smell beautiful. Do you love flowers, Dot? I do, and I think every one should do so. The birds sing, too, in the trees. We live close to the domain, and we hear the birds singing every day. I shall send the two letters in the same envelope, aa neither of them is very large. Of all the letters, I think Wullie's are the most interesting, because he puts them in such a jolly way, but of course he is so Scotch. In the picture in last week's Witness his faither, his mither, and hissel' look much alike, but Wullie's heid is too much pushed down. I will have to close now, so good-bye, with love to you and al: the little folk. — Yours truly, NELLY Peter street, Ashburton, August 22. [Yes, dear, I love "flowers, and none more

than spring flowera. They are such a treat after the tare garden of winter. — DOT.] Dear Dot,— "We get the Otago Witness every •week, and take much pleasure in reading the 'little folk's letters, so I thought I would like -to write too. I like reading 8.0.8.'s and Harry's letters very much. Dear Dot, I saw a "boy here to-day shooting rabbits. I wonder if it was B.O.B.? If co, I did not see Moses. •I cannot agree with girls about boys being ,teases. I have four brothers and I would not Hike to part with any of them. Dear Dot, ,this is a very dull place to live in, and I am glad when I ,go to school. "With love to 'Dot and the little folk,— Yours truly, FAIRY QUEEN. August 26. [Fancy a Fairy Queen living in a dull place! {Why, she must have been banished by a jwicked fairy, and is living in exile.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — Seeing so many letters from little folk, I determined to write too. I have never been to Dunedin, although I should very much like to go. I live away out in the country, and to go to Invercargill is something of a ireat to me. I am rather inclined to favour Boy's idea of Dot's photo. Mona is a wee bit ■too hard on him. Don't you think so, Dot? I am sft l£in high, and am nearly 14 years old. I still go to school, but if I pass this examination I suppose that will be the last of school. I enjoyed reading WulHg's letter very ttmch. Harry, 8.0.8., Ziska, Doughnut, etc., ,write very good letters. lam very fond of reading, and read everything I can get hold of. ' Metber says I read too much.— Yours truly, QUEEN MAB. August 24. [And Queen Mab, also! Why, what is coming over the fairie3? One queen living in a ftuli place and another still at school !— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live in a district called Waianumu, which is about six miles" from Mataura. There is a tramway running past our place. It 5.8 made to run the coal from the Glendhu coal git to the dredge which is working on the iWaimumu stream. Igo to the Waimumu school and I am in the Fourth Standard. There are about 30 children going to our school, and {there is only one teacher. There is a bush about three miles from where we live, and there are many kinds of timber in it, such as black, Ired, and white pine, kowhai, and ironwood. The latter has very pretty red blossoms every three years. There are many kinds of birds in the Jrash, such as pigeons, robinß, and tomtits. We have three cows, and their names ere Lily Susie, and Daisy^ and two calves named Flora and Pansy. lam 11 years old. — lYoura' truly, TIPTOE. Mataura, August 25. [This is Tiptoe's first letter, but I hope it will | toot be her last, as I am sure she will develop ; into a good correspondent if she tries. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I just want to tell you my idea about your photo in the Christmas number. I fleill side in with Boy, and go against those who jwant your photo in the centre of the group, for £E think to have Been your photo would take all .the interest from the Little Folk's Page. Dear £Dot, I have just finished reading Wullie's letter, and I nearly fell with laughing. The first fthing mother did when father came home from '3ns work was to Tead Wullie's letter. Our exam, will not be long now, and I hope I shall .pass, sis it is my last, and I have never failed libefore. I would like to leave school because I jwrant to JJP rabbiting until I am old enough to jdearn a trade, but mother and f other say I am ..too young. "What do you think, Dot? Dear [Dot, I shall close with love to the little folk land yourself. — Yours truly, JOCK P. August 18. [How am I to say, Jock, when you don't tell Sne your age? However, I am certainly of opinion that your father and mother are the jbest judges, and you had better fall in chee*. i 'iully with their views.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— l like B. O. B'b., Harry's, and {Wullie's letters very much. We had grand fun j ibis winter with the ice and snow, but the chilblains are the trouble. Will you please give jne a cure for them. Dear Dot, have you ever Been a curling match? All the men in Naseby iiave done nothing else these six weeks but curling. I will be glad when the fine weather comes, as we are tired of such a long winter. — .Yours truly, | C j CNaseby, August 28. r tl should fancy C's. chilblains will be gone 'ere he Bees this in print. If not, let him steep •this feet in hot water night and morning* for a [few days and .his chilblains will disappear. What ja-n unusual occurrence a six weeks' curling revel must be even in such a high district as Mount , 'Ida.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I live on a farm and have two pet pigeons, one of which is very amusing in its ways, not being afraid to attack the cat and idrive it away. I wonder where Trixie and 33. O. B. are. At any rate they are not writing. Perhaps they are like the absent-minded Irish gentleman who wrote and posted a letter and never addressed it. I must now conclude, ■o good-bye, Dot. — Yours truly, J. P. W. Balcrutha, August 28. , CThat is .a brave pigeon, but I hope it does slot attack a strange cat or perhaps it might catch a taitar.— DOT] . , Dear Dot, — I have found out already who you lire. Perhaps some of the Little Folk have seen this paragraph I found in the Daily Times: — "A Yankee paper mentions a case of a nearBighted hen which mistook sawdust for Indian ancal, and ate heartily thereof, then laid a nestla] of wooden knobs, and in three weeks hatched cut a set of parloui furniture." Of course I ido not expect anyone to believe this. What is Jthe colour of Moses B. O. B. ? I hope you will not be offended but I do not sympathise with you for having to be " wood and water " carrier. Dot, I am going to the O. G. H. S. next term to get " knocked into shape " before the New Year's term. I think Marguerite suggested that the Little Folk should tell about their school scrapes. I am sorry I have none to tell. I think it must be because I am so good. I am a stamp collector, but I cannot supply the demand one of the Little I oik made in one of her letters. The gymnastic display ■was a gjat success. The High street girls wore red hair ribbons and red rosettes. A great number of dances are being given here at present. My two sisters and elder brother are at one this evening. The High street School footboiil team have been playing very well, only losing two games this season, and if they win the next game, Normal against High street, they will be the premier football team for this seaeon. My latest craze is fencing. Maurice and Q[ have great fun fencing in the evening after {dinner. — Yours truly, D. O. S. Manor place, Dunedin, August 29. [I don't quite see the connection between Dot •nd the. wonderful hen, D. O. S. Where does it come in ? We shall have another High school boy among our correspondents, and I am sure B. O. B. and Harry will be pleased to learn .this.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — When spring came I expected the tvarm weather to accompany it; but no such luck. We had several snowstorms on Thursday, but fortunately the snow did not lie. All .your correspondents are telling you about snow and frost, and I suppose you are getting pretty tired of it. I don't think there will be much more now, though. Some of the Little Folk are talking about getting a paper to themselves. It will be a long time before ..hat comes to pass ■J think. When it does they won't run short of poetry if they get Maggie to supply them. A.

sky, and the names of several other heroes who lost their lives in the Maori ~war are also on it. I go to school, and I am in the Third Standard. We have a large school, with about 160 on the roll and four teachers. — With love, I remain yours truly, MARTHA SINCLAIR <nged 10J years). Manaia, Taranaki, August 28. [I am glad Martha has not forgotten the south in her pleasant northern home, and I hope 6he will write to us now and again. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I was very pleased to see my letter in the Witness, and I would like you to give me a name for my little pup. His mother is a Scotch terrier and a very good ratter. The schools were going to have a. concert on Friday, but it was raining so hard that they had to put it off till Tuesday. I hop»-it will be fine then. "We had a church parade to-day. Dear Dot, do you get any letters from any other little boys or girls in New Plymouth? — Yours truly, DICK SMITH. New Plymouth, August 27. [Yes, Dick, we have had several letters from New Plymouth at different times, but I don't think there has been one lately. How would you like to call the pup Nipper? — DOT.] Dear Dot, — "We get the Otago Witness every week and I like reading the little folk's letters, especially B. O. B's., Harry's, Rita's, and Ziska' s letters. lam sorry Dicky Donovan has left the page. He should have kept on until after Christmas, don't you think so Dot? I have no pets to tell you about, but %c have a cat, and her name is Kitty O'Shea. Is that not a funny nan^, Dot? "We have five cows, two calves, some pigs, and a horse. Ido not know any of your correspondents, but I would like to know B. O. 8., Harry, Ziska, Rita, Alys, Priscilla, and some of the others. Where have Trixes and Sybil Scrybils gone to, Dot? Surely they have not left tiie page, but if they have they might have written a farewell letter. I have a friend here who says she ■ is going to write to you. — Yours truly, ZEALIA. [Yes, I should have been very glad if Dicky had stayed on a little longer, Zealia. You will be sorry to see that Sybil is also leaving iis, and that she has written a. farewell letter this week. I shall be very glad to hear from your friend, dear.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — I have been reading the little folks' letters and I like them very much, so I asked mamma if I- could write a letter to you. I am eight years old. I have three miles to walk to the Mimihau school, Miss Campbell is our teacher. I am in the Second Standard. I have no brothers or sisters, 1 have a dog, which I call Toss, I have also a lot of «k>ys, including four dolls, three of which are named Bertha, Jemima, and Johnny. Would you please give me a name for the other one. Nearly all of my school mates have had the measles lately, but I have escaped so far.— Yours truly, ELSIE LEITCH. Wyndham, August 24. [I think you had better call the other one Jeanie to keep Jemima company, Elsie. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — It's a long time since I wrote to you so I thought I would like to write again. There have been two falls of snow here, and I had great fun snowballing my brothers and sister, We still have hard frosts here, and it's making the garden work late,. "We are very busy just now trying to get it finished. I have a. flower garden but have not done it up yet. Oh, I know what I was going to ask you, Dot. Is there any kindergarten school now, because I don't see any 1 little folk sending stamps? Dear Dot, I think that B. O. B's. letters are getting very long and interestingand so are some of the others, and I like Wulhe's letters also. I must now draw my letter to a close, with love to all the little folk and yourself. — Yours truly, CAPTAIN COOK. Purekireki, August 31. A COMPOSITION FOB DOT, "THE BOY." A boy is an animal with feet, and is found in all parts of the world. He has two eyes and can see a lot of things. Boys iike dogs and ponies. Girls like t dolls and cats best. I am a boy. We like pohies because they carry us to school every morning, and we like dogs because they catch rabbits. Boys get dirtier than girls, but girls get the stick more than boys in our schoolroom, because they talk. Boys don't get let stay home from school like girls do when they have got the toothache. Boys are better mates than girls. I have two mates and I like them very much. Boys can throw a long way; girls throw funny, and can't hit anything. — I am, etc., PAIELIE GILLINGHAM (aged 7 years). Fairlie, South Canterbury, August 31. ANSWERS TO LAST WEEK'S KIDDLES. By Ella:— A flea. By Bobma: — 1, a needle; 2, a sieve; 3, a plum pudding.

yard or two would go a long way. I am very sorry Dicky Donovan has said good-bye to the Little Folk. I think we shall miss his letters very much, for they were so interesting. What a splendid letter Wullie's last one was. I am of the opinion that he is not much of a turnip head. Yes, Dot, he did look small in his sketch, but the weight of his parents' hands kept him down — so he said. Please Dot, will some of your correspondents give me the answer of this sum : If B." O. B. sold Moses to Ethel for £15, and Ethel finding the gallant steed will not jump as B. O. B. says sells him back to B. O. B. for £10. B. O. 8., determined to get rid of him, then sells him to Dicky for £20. How much does he gain on the whole transaction ? I think Alys's uncle has hit on a good plan for the Little Folk to recognise each other by — especially for the ones who sign themselves Maori names, as Maoris sometimes wear rings in their noses. All the same I should not like io wear one. I am taking up your space with an uninteresting letter, so I will stop, with love to all the Little Folk,. — Yours truly, AMARYLLIS. [Now, little folk, puzzle your brains over Amaryllis's arithmetical problem over B, O, B, and Moses and we shall no doubt arrive at a correst answer amongst us all, — DOT,] Dear Dot, — We have football on the brain up Here at present. We have played two matches this season and lost both. In the first the Alexandra boys beat us by 6 points to nil, and in ■/he second by 35 points to nil. We did not, however," mind that. Two or three weeks ago there was plenty of snow here, but it has all disappeared now. We had some real fine fun in the streets with the snow, snow-balling and rubbing each other in it We were given a week's holiday from school, in ■sdiich time we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. II we can arrange we shall play football on Saturday, 2nd September, against Cromwell and Lowburn schools, and I hope we shall come off successful.—Your b truly, FOOTBALL. Clyde, August 28. [I hope you will write and tell us all about the game, whether you are successful or not. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — I have two pigeons, one of which has a white head, Will you please give me names for them, I have a little garden and I grow flowers in it. I went to Palmerston and I liked it very much. I stayed for a month with my uncle end aunt. My uncle has a factory and I have tLrre cousins up there. There is a lot of shops there, and my uncle's house is not far from the station. .The road up to Christ^ church just goes past his house. It was fine fun going across a great big bridge over the Shag River. I often went for rides in the milkmen's carts, and I sometimes went right to their houses. — Yours truly, HAROLD. Maungatua, August 28. [That was a good holiday, Harold, and I don't wonder at your enjoying yourself. Call the pigeons Coo and Baldy. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Do you like strawberries? I have a nice row of them. When they are ripe I have to watch them so that the birds don't eat them. I have also a flower garden, with pretty flowers in it.— Yours truly, CHARLOTTE HEAPS. ' Purekireki, August 24. i [Of course I like strawberries, dear, and I think they are ; well worth watching when they are so tempting to the birds. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Our examination will be soon and I hope I shall pass. On the day that the examination takes place the children say, " Well, I'll pass the inspector if he does not pass my work." When you look at this you v.-ill exclaim, "However am I to make out these scribbles ?" There is a waterfall about two miles from where I live, and it is lovely in summer. There are high iock3 on each side, and they are covered with ferns. I really hope Dicky Donovan will write a few more letters yet, for I like reading his letters very much. — Yours truly, FORGET-ME-NOT. August 30. J [I -hope Forget-me-not succeeded in passing, and therefore had no occasion to pass the inspector.—DOT.] j Dear Dot, — I'm in great trouble. Mabel and I are going to a fancy dress ball in October, and I don't know what to wear that will disguise me. Will you please hejp me, or will some of the girls? There are so many things girls can wear, but it's so hard for a boy to get anything. — Yours truly, j 8.0.8. J [This is really too good an opportunity for 8.0.8.'s friends to come to his assistance for me to interfere. Now, girls, put on your thinking caps, and devise something really original (without being too grotesque) for our back blocks chum to cut a dash in. We shall see whose suggestion meets with the most favour from 8.0.8., and I am sure we shall look forward to the date of the ball, as he himself will do.— DOT.] I Dear Dot,— Although I live in an outlandish t place, we procure the Witness, and I always i make a rush for it to see the little folk's letters. | I am always glad to see such a number of letters. I enjoy reading Pauline' 8 and Pris cilia's letters, because they are old schoolmates of mine. Wullie's photo was quite fascinating. My mate and I were going to write to you some time ago, but always put it off. There is a girl fuend of mine up here who has a nico ' littlo Shetland pony, which she now and again allows us girls to ride. On one occasion I was told that a mimber of girls with long skirts on, playing old women, I suppose, had the wee pony out. When tiiey goi oui of u;jiit of the town the girls started to doxible bauk. The front girl was on for fun, of course, and she started to hit the pony, which caused it to run, and the lass behind slipped, and her skirt nearly covered the pony. She of cou.se fell off on to the ground, but she did not get hurt. For my part, I pitied the pony; but the poor girl caused a good round laugh. 1 must stop now, with love to Pauline, Priscilla, Daphne, Eveline, and yourself. — I am, as ever, MERCIA. Waipori, August 30. [It was .oo bad of the girls taking such liberties with the pony, and their friend would be quite justified in refusing to lend it to them again, Mercia. Borrowed property of any kind should always be treated with the greatest consideration. — DOT.] Dear Dot,— We have been having very hard frosty weather up here lately, and the snow is not all away yet. JefebabelwinklerpufT, who is trying to puzzle the little folk with that biff name, is, in my opinion, a girl, and a pretty clever one into the bargain. I see 8.0.8. has to carry water, and if he has to carry it much farther than I have to he must have to carry it a good long way. Besides, I have got to go through four or five fences. Wullie writes very letters, so does 8.0.8. and Harry. The other day I was going up a hill in" a "trap with four horses. Near the top of the hill the road was jovered with ice, and in trying to get over it one of the leaders fell down ; two or three times and nearly choked herself. The hill was a pretty long one, and it took us a good while to get to the top. If tbe roads in Dunedin, Dot, are as muddy as tncy aTe up here, you can boast of having the worst roads in New Zealand, or, at least, not far off it. — Yours truly, MYSTERY. [The roads at present are as dry as possible, Mr Mystery, so we have nothing to complain

,of on that score. Be patient, and you will be i all right yet.— DOT.] Dear Dot, — We get the Witness every week, i and I like reading the letters very much, espe- | cially Wee Wullie's. I take great interest in i him, because I am only about three years out 1 from the old country myself. I was born in New Zealand, but went Home when I was a baby. We took about eight weeks to come out in the ship, as the weather was very rough. We were surrounded with icebergs for four days, and if you like, Dot, I will tell you all about ray voyage out, as it may be of some interest to you. The little folk would also, no doubt, like to hear something about the bounie hills and lochs of Scotland. I think " A Meltiug Story " is very nice, and I suppose it would teach Seth a lesson. All those books you spoke about are very good. I have read " East Lynne," " Uncle Tom's Cabm," " Bud"c and Toddy," and " The Seven Little Australians." The last two are very humorous, while the former are more touching. Dear Dot, you could never imagine what I heird, so I shalJ tell you. I was told you were a nice young man, with wood-violet eyes and brown hair. I wish that was true. I wish I knew Harry, 8.0.8. , ZiSkn, Rita, and some of the otlicis, but I suppose I shall have to wish in vain, as 1 live in this corner of the world. lam °ony lam not in time to send my photograph to the Christmas Annual. I think we might manage to put one photo in the Witness every week, until all the correspondents have been .shown. I think I have said enough for one time, so I shall say good-bye to all the little folk, and with love to yourself, Dot, remain, yours truly, JUDY. Milton, August 30. [A nice young man with " wood-violet eyes and brown hair"! What a picture of poor little me! I am sure most of my correspondents would very much prefer Dot as she is than to think of her in that guise, no doubt with the accompaniment of a straw hat, yellow kid gloves, and bright tan boots. No, dear, tell your friend to draw another picture, and a more probable one this time. We shall all be very glad to hear about 3 f our trip out, and also something about your life in the old country.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— My sister thought the names you gave me very nice names for her dolls. Sometimes when I am crossing the river in the boat to school it is very rough, especially when there is *an east wind blowing. Dear Dot, do you ever go for a row in a boat ? It is very nice when the rirer is calm. My brother got a nest of young rabbits one day, and one of our cats took them for kittens, but we would not let her keep them. — Yours truly, LENA. August 30. [Poor puss, she would be quite heart-broken when her strange family was taken away from her.— DOT.J Dear Dot, — " The illustrious and far-famed Ziska" accepts 8.0.8.'s humble apology. She also wishes to inform him that if he would like to " have the pleasure of presenting himself before her" he should call at the L office, and knock at the second door on the right-hand side. There have been a lot of football matches here lateJy. To-day theie was a tournament, last Thursday a- rep. match, and the Saturday before another rep. match, co, you see, we weie all in for good games. In the last-named match one poor fellow put his sheulder out, and I felt so sorry for him. Wasn't that a sad accident that happened in Dunedin to that young , man in the Otago team. lam sure he has the I sympathy of many people, and I know he j has plenty of sympathisers in this place. I ! always watch for reports of his progress in the papers. Don't you think football is a dreadfully rough game, Dot ? And yet I like watching it so long as no one is hurt. Dear Dot, — I had such a disappointment the other night. We went into a neighbouring town to see an opera, and when we got there we couid not get m, as the theatre was full. Had we liked to pay 4s each we might have got standing room, but as there were five of ' us, that would have been rather expensive. My father and I had ridden in on bikes, and the others were in a gig. We started for town about 6 o'clock, and arrived there about 8. Of course the gig was in a long time before us, but then we had to walk tip and down the hills, while the horse managed it better than we did. M father was able to ride the hills, but poor me, I could not do it, so he had to wait for me. The hills were about two miles from the town, and then it was hills all the way in. It took me nearly two hours to ride 12 miles, and my father said I had broken a record, in taking the longest time to ride into on a bike. As I told you, wo could not get into the theatre, so we went for a walk. After having some supper we started for home, and arrived there at half-past 11, tired and weary, at least I was. I wonder if 8.0.8. gets tired after riding 40 miles; I never could manage it — 28 miles are enough for me. • There is going to be a fancy dre&s ball here iit a foitnight, and of course 1 am going. I am going to have my photo taken in fancy costume, and I will send you one if you would like it. Dear Dot, please excuse all the mistakes, as my sister will keep on asking me riddles, and I am quite inuddlecl — football, riddles, balls, and poetry being all mixed up together. Well, she has stopped just now, and co I must hurry and finish, before she starts again. I v. as cleaning out my pocke6 the other day, and my father came' behind me and said, " You needn't taik about what boys carry in their pockets, yours i& just as bad." This is what was in it: A halfpenny, a pair of links, three bits of lead pencil, a, packet of lollies (of course), a bunch of keys, a letter, a picture, an apple, and my handkerchief. Wasn't much, was it? It was. nothing to what it used to be. I think I will stop before I write 1 any mote nonsense, or the little folk will be ; saying that my letters are " nothing to what they used to be." With best wishes, from ZISKA. August 31. [Football certainly is both rough and dangerous, Ziska, and it seems a pity that some means cannot be devised by which the more ! dangerous element could be modified. It is a I manly game, and it would be a pity were it to fall into discredit through the callousness j of some of the players. I should be very glad of your photo in fancy costume, Ziska, and | can only regret that it is not in time to go in the group. I think your sister must be as 1 great a tease as some of the boys we hear about, dear.— DOT.3 I Dear Dot, — We get the Otago Witness and I often read the little folk's letters to you. I have often wished to write myself. Once I did write you a letter, but my little brother tore it up and burned it, and he said to me, " Patty, you'll have to write another letter to dear Dot." So. I have begun again. I will tell you something about Taranaki. We came from Waihola to Manaia, on the Wairnate Plains, three years ago. This is a very nice country. A great deal of it is forest plains, but two or three miles next the sea is clear plain. We are about a mile and a-half from the sea, and about Id miles from Mount Egmont. The mountain is over 8000 ft high. It looks very high- because of the plains round it. On the top there is snow all the year round. It is covered with snow just now. Sometimes you can just see the top of the mount above the clouds, and it looks very pretty. We live in a | little township very nicely laid off, with a j granite monument in the centre of the Octagon, | which was erected to the memory of Voa Temp- «