LETTERS FROM OLD WRITERS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2804, 11 December 1907, Page 83

LETTERS FROM OLD WRITERS.

Dear Dot, — In my mind's eye I can see the D.L.F. Page of December 11, 1907: just what I'm expecting and looking forward to is numerous columns and lots of missives signed by the old, yet well-remembered names of Dot's writers. Wtfh our present dear Dot's kindly welcome end the sweet memory of the late Dot we so loved the pleasure of being present will, I hope, prove too graat an attraction for many to resist. And after reading the pen thoughts of the many who have left their girlhood and boyhood behind with the past year 9, we wi:l smk into a little reverie and imagine for a short sweet space that the old days have returned, and we can >see the pleased look and glad smile of appreciation of our dear friend to whom we used to write our childish messages, and, later, the more mature thoughts of our youth. We all know how a full gathering of Old Writers pleased •ur friend and met with the sincere and hearty welcome which was characteristic of him: this time by having a successful meeting we shall be helping our present Dot and brightening Love's labour for her— the Dot whom our departed friend wished to rule as queen of his devoted Little Folk. There s always "sweetness in remembrance, and to know the old page is not forgotten will be a joy indeed for Dot and all D.L.F. And now I will go and make room for all the old names I'm expecting and hoping to see. That Old Writers' Week of 1907 wiTPprove a record one is- th« sincere wish of— Yours truly, MAIDIE M. [You have struck the chord, Maidie, thai I think will dominate «11 our meeting today—the gladness in remembrance that wi 1 come when we think of the late leader of this page and his good work. Last year our sorrow was still too new for the joyous note to penetrate; at this meeting, I think, gladness and tender reminiscence and gratitude will prevai 1 "To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die"— of you older writers, in whose heart does he not live?— DOT.] Dear Dot.— Many years have come and gone since last I took up my pen to trace thoso two little words, familiar to many of the yolh of New Zea'and as the old-world fables of "The goose that laid the golden eggs" and "The fox and the grapes." O d Writers' Week is a splendid institution to gather together the pioneers of the page, although some of the greatest favourites will join us no more. Death has decimated our ranks and matrimony claimed a few; these latter very likely finfl new ties more interesting than o'd ones. So D.L.F.-dom shall have to be content with mention in others' letters of the favourites of long ago. What joy shall be mine, dear Dot, if on opening out the Witness on O.W.W. I find that Shan, Sybil Squibbles, Devonshire Dumpling, Laddie, Boy, Trixie, and Johnny Corkill all numbered among the contributors » I feel a strange sensation of regret and loneliness hovering round me on mention of those old familiar names. Jt must be because those happy, care-free times wheii we^ ».u wrote together are gone — {gone into the mists of the past, Wid this, drawing aside the curtain shows me how much is lost to ua. Looking back, I se« myself a little girl, deriving enjoyment and fun from a.l that came in my way. Everything seemed to be made especially for the benefit of the children. Isbthing was bad. ' But I view many things in a different light now. I am sorry to say I cannot help it. The duplicity and selfishness of humanity , and the aordidaess oi Nature. }i'fi<3nn. Smm. j

the childish eye display themselves in all the glare of noonday to the matured minds of ■the adult. We are created to adore and serve God. We do that in childhood unwittingly, and that means happiness. We don't know what "wrong" means, and attribute a good motive to everything that is done. Some few there are who go through" life thus, but how many are drawn into the maelstrom of "Fashion," and go on day after day worshipping Mammon and not God! Heigho! this looks remarkably like moralising, dear Dot, and I do not wish to pose as a moralist, although to give vent to one's feelings is a great relief. Like many another OM Writer, I refrained from sending in a letter of retirement; hence 1 believe you and I are complete strangers, dear Dot. I wonder if my old school churn Cecily will write this week? It seems so strange that our old school-fellows, to whom we vowed eternal friendship, drift away from us as the years roll by; but we all know that the old order must change to make way for the new. Everything around my home here is changed except the hills out yonder, with their tussocky heights and beetling ledges of rock. Not so the valley between vs — it is worked out of a'l semblance of its former self by the dredges; and the river which once flowed clear as crystal between grassy banks now meander 9 turbidly amongst sand and gravel. My sister Pauline and her friend Priscilla. (the original Priscilla— l believe there are several others since) wTote to the page for years, and although widely separated now keep up a desultory corespondence still. Last summer they both drifted with other sightseers to the Christchurch Exhibition. Priscilla met my sister face to face on several occasions, and she (my sister) looked straight at her and passed on, and continued walking on without the slightest recognition. Naturally Pris thought that her old friend had intentionally "cut" her, but my sister did not know for months, afterwards that Pnscjlla- had even visited the Exhibition. How one can alter in two years'. I must now lay aside my pen, dear Dot, and restrain my impatience to devour the literary feast that I know awaits me. — Your* truly, MISS MUFFET.

[Strangers or not, Miss Muffett, I am heartily glad to see youi name among the signatures this week; it is one that has often been mentioned to me. And one sentence of your letter has called up a delightful picture for me: "Everything seemed to be made for the benefit of children." Whai a happy childhood that indicates, Miss Muffett! I should like to think that that feeling had placo in every childish heart — not selfishly, I mean, but just in the blissful ignorance of very young things. Your letter is a little regretful, dear Miss Muffett, because you and Change have not found your reconciliation yet: that also is to come, you will see, with the good things that the years have in store.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,— Areta kindly let m« know the date of Old Writers' Week, and I am looking forward to reading the letters of all my old friends. What a lot of changes there are since I wrote to Dot's Page first! I think every one of th© Cld Writer* was sorry -when retiring age came. I know I made some good friends through the Little Folk. I still wear my badge^ And often have the pleasure of meeting D.L.F. Christmas, with *11 its pleasures and holidays, is very near; the ye^ars simply fly, and I, for one, would wish the" days longer. We are enjoying the most perfect weather here just now, and e\eryone is hoping it keeps fine over the show. My sister will be in Dunedin at Chris* mas time, and will be sure to visit the Witness Office, I hope to see letters from Shan, Daisy Primrose, and B. O. B. The other day I was reading some poetry written by one of the Little Folk. It was mostly about B. 0. B. and Harry. I spend most week-ends out at the beach, «nd just now everything is looking lovely. I love this time ol the year, Dot — especially the evenings. The grass and the flowers are looking green and Iresh, and the fruit trees are one mass of bloom. My aunt's farm is almost on the I beach, and after being shut up in the office all the week I can assure you I appreciate being out there very much. We are all counting the days till Christmas week, as we intend spending it at the Mountain House. We spent last Easter there, and I've never yet had such an enjoyable time. I ion't know what Taranaki would be without jts mountain. Besides, the large house, tJfey have a cottage and an accommodation house also at Dawson's Falls. We like the cottage best, as it will just about hold a parly of 20. They have a piano and plenty of good games, and everybody joins in, and the whole narty are on the best of terms. Mr Sinclair (the caretaker) gets plenty to do looking after everybody and taking photos ; we always give three cheers for him and his wife when we leave. I wonder if any Little Folk collect poetip? If so, I should very much like any pieces that they could send, and I should be pleased to tend some of mine. I have books into which I copy any piece that takes my fancy. I also want to buy some pressed ferns to eend to England — just a few stamped on paper would do. Anyone with any ready to cell could let me know by writing to M. Wilson, Wellington street, Hawera. I suppose every Little Folk reads more or less. I am very fond of reading, and spend a good deal of my spare time at it. When I was a kiddy, dad used to hide books from me, and | I'd pick tip any bit of paper I found and read it. I don't have po much time now, as I have more to do; still. I manage to collect a few good books together. Tennis has begun, and we will soon start tournaments. Last year we had 60 members in our club, and this year we have about 15 new mombars. In the summer evenings we can p.ay till nearly 9 o'clock. Last year I used to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning and ride a mile to tennis. Every week I'd say I'd do it no more, but as soon as a lovely morning j came I could not resist it. It's fairly tiring, { especia ly working all day after, but the enjoyment makes up for that,, don't you think? J I must close this scrawl, or I'll be taking up ' too much space ; cut out some if I've written more than my share. Wishing Dot and all Little Folk the jolliest and happiest Christmas they have yet enjoyed, — Yours truly, A. M. W. [Evidently you have a great fund of enthusiasm and euergy, A. M. W. ; to leave off playing tennis at 9 o'clock and to be preparing for it again at A next morning is ardour indeed! Bring the same energy to all the concerns of your life, and you will certainly havwt a good record of work when you close it.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,— l feel one of tie duties of O'd Writers to-day will be brevity. This being what may be termed a gathering of the clans, there will be a lot to say, and such a -large number of Old Writers to say it that letters must necessarily be b.3 condensed as possible. Yet there are so many things to talk about, bo many old loves to recollect, so many old battles to fight over again, that short letters seem an impossibility ; so you, dear Dot, must be prepared to face ihe editor with a big bill of fare and as much fortitude as you can summon. At such a time thoughts caamat but revert sadly, to the past, to tliat

dear comforter and guide of ours whose IoSS we so deeply mourned. Yet our faith in Divine love has been justified, for under the guidance of her who fills his place the page and all its accessories have progressed splendidly in the direction of his dream— which brings us out into the sun again. My thoughts go back to the old days when Dot was taxed to find sundry appropriate names for all the pet lambs, calves, etc., in the Dominion. What a trying time it must h»ve been! I remember reading a little poem byGeorge Hicks, and envying (it's just as wel* to be honest) him his gift and the kind words of . appreciation his verses called from Dot. I can't say I appreciated the main body oi the page in those days as I do now. I just used to wonder at the ingenuity displayed by, dear Dot (whom I imagined to be a really and truly fairy, with long golden hair and butterfly wings) in providing suitable pel names for cats and dogs, the while she patted the little inquirers kindly on the head. I did not know; I had not read then in Lowell'f inspiring poem to W. L. Garrison that— "We stride the river daily at its spring. Nor in our childish thoughtlessness foresei What myriad vassal streams shall tribut* . bring, How like an equal it shall greet the aea. We have not reached the sea of possibility yet, but all the same we've developed into t river* of considerable size; have we not, Dot? With good wishes to all,— Yours truly BLONDE!/.

[Dear Blondel, it remained for aur poet to find a simile' for us, and nothing could beat your idea of a river and its tributary stream* — littleness becoming might and greatness, and a river always, even though its waters are fresh from day to day. I see that it can be carried much further, too, for do not tb* same waters in the end come back .to th« river? And hasv it not its fountain-head? You have spoken of the days when you envied a budding poet: what of the day. you must have had within this last week or so, when you held^your first volume of poems in your hands? That day must have beer* • recompense for much. — DOT.]

Dear Dot,— l now take the opportunity afforded me of joining you all in Old Writers' Week. I hope to see a, good substantial number of old familiar signatures this time. It brings back old times to one's memory to see the old friends making an appearance in O.W.W. Many a bright hour I've spent waiting to dear Dot's Page. Retired -writers are scattered far and near, but when such an opportunity comes in their -way to have a talk with Dot and her Little Folk they are like sheep being gathered into the fold by the good shepherd. But some are married, and have homes of their own; others, again, have been cut down Jusfc as the age of womanhood and manhood was dawning upon them. I am forwarding the note to Maid of Orleans, but I'm doubtful if she will be able to join us this time. * Her. little son has been dangerously ill, but is now on the way to recovery, so I'm afraid she will be fully occupied for a time. However, I'm sure she will read with interest th« letters of her old comrades. Dear Dot, Laajj; Esler is experiencing family cares at tha time of .writing. We have one of M. of O. s little girls staying with us, and the little girF has taken to calling L-E.- "mumma," so it i« mumma'* duty~ to hush the cherub to sleep;I ( see by this weeks Witness that w* have a "canny Scot" takin' notes. My word} comrade, what salary do you get for th« work? ' You like .to keep we in memory oj that dear little box. of chocolates. How S did relish that smell of the empty box in the train! I will need to secure two bora for next Labour Day picnic— eh, chums in th* know? I got some ferns that day, but thej haye all died; somehow I can't manage te grow ferns. A friend from Taieri Beach seni me a root of maidenhair fern, and it died also. I was down at Taieri Beach last New Year "hen the cherries were ripe, and what a gay time I had. The friend* with whom I was staying kindly showed me through th« coal mine on their property. The mouth ol the mine was- a perfect fernery. It encouraged one, as it were, to proceed further in when one saw the beautiful ferns and moss. I am in no measure a, daring lassie, so my readers are at liberty to imagine myi feelings going through it. I had to stoop in a few places, but I got more confidence the nearei the light we got. It was a. rough day, so we hurried back to the homestead, where a hearty repast was waiting for us. Dean Dot, Christmas will soo» be ner* again withl its pleasures and gaieties. I can hardly believe that a year has almost elapsed since J was in Christchurch for * holiday. I may mention that my trip to Christchurch wac one of the happiest times I have spent in my life. I hope to go there again some time. I was fairly enchanted with the Exhibition ami other sights I saw. Every time I went out I saw something fresh. I spent a few days at Temuka with Maid of Orleans on my way home. Well, dear Dot, before closing I wish to have a little private talk with one of my correspondents. Baxonia, if you wish to hear from me again write to me and eri<close your address, as I have lost or mislai^ it. I should be pleased to hear from you Again. I must stop now, wishing Dot and her Little Folk— my comrades— a very enjoyiable Christmas- and a bright and prosperous New Year. Trusting to join you all again 'this time next year in O.W.W. is the earnest and farewell wish of — Yours truly, BOADICEA.

[Did you know the news Baronia tells us* fh her letter this week, Boadicea? It was a surprise to me, and perhaps will be so to you. I shall quite understand the reason ij Maid of Orleans does not appear to-day; J hope her little boy is quite well again.— DOT.]

Dear Dot,— l am taking advantage of ths O.W.W. to again have a little chat with my old friends. I am expecting to meet here a crowd of real D.L.F. authors in whose company I shall feel that I am but a very wee sma' writer. Well, dear chums, one and: all, how are you? I suppose one asks that question almost involuntarily. Being really short of news, I am just going to give a> short account of a very enjoyable trip to Stewart Island, Southland's most accessible beauty spot. The morning my mate and I were to depart broke windy and wet. For weeks before we had been teased about our forthcoming trip and our chances of being seasick, and when we rose and found the weather sc bad we began to wonder sadly if the prognostications of our friends were going to prove correct. However, we determined we would go if the boat w«nt, and accordingly, having made ready arid donned an overcoat each, we set off for the station. In case they should be required on the way, we purchas&d two bottles of sodawater. On boarding the train for the Bluff we found that we were to ha.ye the company of a bra=s band to the island. All the way to port, we were kept from gloomy forebodings by the music, which the- band kept up continual h ; one could not help wondering if they weie troubled with visions of what was coming and were resorting to this method 1 of suppressing it. At all events the tune was considerably changed in the next hour. Before the day was out the air they were jpla-y-

ing would be best described by a tune something after the style of "Good Old Jeff" with the words — "It's coming; no it's not; yes it is. There it is!" But I need not say much, for someone happened to mention the fact that there was a heavy sea running, and by some mysterious power my hand was ; mystically and surreptitiously drawn towards j those two endearing sodawater bottles. The i contents of one were quickly disposed of, ! and I felt quite brave again. At last the Bluff was reached, and on going on the wharf we found the sturdy little tug pulling away at her moorings as if eager to be 1 away. No sooner were all aboard than the moorings were cast off, and with the band playing and the engine thud, thud, thudding below we headed towards the open strait. Instinctively one turns and faces seaward, on y to see the big breakers with their huge white crests rolling along and smashing themselves on the rocks. Very shortly we encountered them, and then — but we'll, metaphorically speaking, lower the curtain with the remark that it was passing strange how aad everyone looked. It was just then that r noticed the music had ceased altogether ; it had been maintained in fitful bursts for some time, but now silence reigned supreme where formerly the band had held sway. On proceeding to investigate the cause -of ihe stoppage of music I found the greater part of the passengers in little groups of twos • and threes huddled up in any little corner out of the way. From tbe forlorn look on the . faces of these unfortunates and the despei rate way in which they clung to certain ( dishes it was evident that they cared not wbether the ship ever reached the island or foundered on the way. I turned away from! 'this sight and quickly gained the front of the wheelhouse, where I remained for the rest of the journey. Here, of course^ one was ex- ; posed to the full force of the wind and spray, but I did not mind that, for the fresh aiT I kept me from being in the came sad plight • as a lot of my fellow travellers. Meanwhile '" the little vessel continued to roll and plunge 1 and the big waves «une sweeping in over her ' bows, while the spray would come flying over ' tlie place where I stood. One poor unfortun ate sat right in the bow, and, being too bad , to move, every wave that c*me aboard swept , right over him; but he, did not trouble; he i seemed to be too far gone to care. We were about halfway across, and I was beginning to congratulate myself that I was going to get over without being seasick, when we passed through the water at a point where two currents meet. What a change came ovev me. I could almost swear that I was green — yes, green ; everything was getting very green— .the sea, the ship, the people^ — everything! What a God-send that bottle of sodawater seemed! One pull at it did the trick, and I was fit again. I was not seasick, but I hardly like to think how near I came ' to it. Presently we neared the island. sAs we approached I began to wonder where we were to land, but after skirting the shore for some little distance we opened up one of £be most beautiful harbours' I have ever seen. As we swept round a little cape into Hftlfmoon Bay I could not but admire the beautiful scene in front. The grass and bushcovered hills on either side, the little township "nestling cosily at the head of the bay, ' the clear blue and great depth of the water (one felt almost inclined to jump ashore, so close did we go in) with tlie multitudes of fish swimming in it, all lent iiemselves to admiration. V«ry shortly- we arrived- alongside- the wharf, where we iound the greater t part of the residents gathered, as ' is usual on boat days, to give the risitors greeting. •' Having landed, we made tracks towards the boarding-house which w»s to be our home ; for the fcext few days. The first information ! I required irom our landlady was what time would dinner be ready. So you see I kept up my reputation as a D.L.P., even though I was co far from home. Of all ihe sights to be seen in this beautiful island I will say nothing; others have described them, and repetition is only wearisome, and as I have already trespassed a good deal on your generosity, dear Dot, I will bring my little •chat to * close with a yarn of an episode which occurred whilst we were there. There were over twenty people in the house, and all a most sociabl and genial lot. Early one morning, on the first of April, to be precise, one of the men folk, having secured a cow-bell during the day, rose and, with the cow-bell ringing, ran through the house crying "Fire!" You can imagine what would happen. Nearly every person in the house jumped out of bed and ran out into the i passages in whatever scanty attire they could snatch up. Being "m the know," I was not at oil disturbed, but jumped up to see the fun. By the tiz~<- I gained the passage everybody was just in roars of laughter, each one laughing at the other. One chap in particular was having a real bad time of it, he having attempted to jump through a window and being caught by the perpetrator of the joke. On regaining our room we lay ' and laughed until the .tears were running down our faces. We spent a most enjoyable time, had a good trip home, and felt pleased •with oureelves and everything in general. 'With kind remembrances to all, and love for yourself, dear Dot,— Yours truly WILLOW BROOK. CHow large and important -that little seatrip looms in «very excursion to Stewart Island! I forget the exact number of hours it takes to go across, but I know they often contain more than their 60 minutes' worth of wretchedness. I suppose the- seasickness is all forgotten, though, before the first day in the island is over. Is this a typewriter you have used for your letter. Willow Brook? I have never seen one like it before, and admire the work very much ; it *is so beautifully neat and clear.— DOT ] _ Dear Dot, — I am in despair. I cannot think of anything to say. You see, the stock subjects are exhausted. I never milked a cow in my life, I have not the vaguest notion how many pigs we keep, and I have not been to either a socia 1 or a D.L.F. picnic. What is to be done 9 Shall I discourHe upon the heat, the cold, the cliangeableness of the climate or the price of wheat — the two favourite topics just new, or shall I wax poetic (ahem, did anyone spoak?) over the young cabbages. Come to think of it, I don't believe there are any at this time of year. I must make inquiries. I ha>i » bad attack of "point lace" for three days last week, and spent every spare moment performing upon what ruav, in a few years' time, develop into a handkerchief At present the outlook is gloomy in the extreme. My "fancywork" i« almo°t always* finished by someone else. I have not got sufficient patience to complete that sort of thing. I wonder who will finish that handker- , chief. I also ,go in for chickens and clvi klmgs. I detest chickens and am absolutely terrified of utem. Why, I cannot aay, but I would rather handle a dozen muddy young ducks thac one chicken any time. I bring out the chicks in incubators, but the ducks aro brougfri ont by the hens and afterwards transferred to the foster-mothers with the chicks, as fc&os are liable to lead them into mischief. I have just had a hunt for my spectacle*. The ca«© i» «»&•* in my room somewhere as on the tnantelpiec* in here, bat as the

glasses were certain not to be in it it | was obvious. y no use wasting -time looking for i it. They turned up in due course in a j drawer of my cabinet, having probably got there on one of the numerous occasions when the said drawer was floating around the ' house after the manner of my things. r To return to the chicks. Last hatching owing io my not filling ths lamp once or twice was not altogether a success. In fact only about half the eggs came out. Now, I hay© two rivals en the station who pin their faith in hens, and what should tfcese objectionable people do but get out every egg. Of course they were very sympathetic, but I saw through. The -war is still raging. I have 50 eggs due next week, and if ihef-= don't behave decently I shall have to be "indisposed" for a few days. So far things have gone pretty decently, though the temperature was rather high one hot day when I left th© lamp turned high, stili it ought to be all right. I went out for a ride last week to exercise myself and my horse. Specially the horse. I thought he wag getting fat, so as he was also feeling frisky I let him race up all the hills going out. I think he fe.t better by the time we got home, •though he was not allowed much racing on the way back, though he was anxious to get borne again. He i 3 a lovely animal to ride — never requires urging, but is ready for a canter directly he gets the hint, and has lovely paces. What' clever things ponies' are. I took some oarrot9 out to a- paddock occupied by two Shetlands and my own horse. Directly my back was turned I beard a squeal, and discovered Jack chasing the ponies away from the carrots. Investigation proved that though they had departed so hurriedly they had each taken a large and juicy one with them «nd left Jack with only the ancient and tougit ones, though he did not appear to notice it. They must have grabbed them pretty quickly. I hope to gee 'a 'greet many familiar names in this OJd Writers' Weeek. Wnen I joined the page ten or elevec years ago there were many famous writrs. I looked upon them with great awe and reverence, and wondered who they could possibly be and if they really did exist. At that time my epistle consisted of a large ruled sheet of note paper spread out flat (for were we not allowed to write on one side only?), covered in largest round-hand with the interesting information that I was five or six years old, and possessed sundry animals, which were duly enumerated. Thiß usually meant about five lines of print, as most of the sheet was taken up with_ "Dear Dot," norn de plume, and. real name and address. I think will do some of that handkerchief now. I must try and finish this corner of it. If I do not* stop soon there will be little room left" for the great ones whom. 7 hope to see contribute to this week's page ; so fareweH for the present. I have not retired yet and have still several years left, so feel rather wipked for considering myself an "Old" Writer. Nothing like beginning young, is there? Greetings to all old friends. — Yours truly, BBENDA. ■ [In spite of your youth, Brenda, your long connection with the page aad your good work for it have given you an excellent claim to the venerable rank of "Old Writer." Sod - your name not been here to-day I -think there would have been.' many inquiries for it. — DOT.] Dear Dot, — Once again I write those two familial words that seem, when once our •pens have written them, to -send us straight back into youth's bright fairyland. I wonder how many of our comrades, who stood for the- light of "Hope" in that great debate nearly two years ago would now stand as "Memory's" supporters? Probably they all would say "not one. ' and yet the majority will now write for Old Writers' week, calling up past pleasures and experiences that they dearly love to hug as a sweet memory. In bringing this little drama back to our minds all of you may ask why: Because when I meet some of my old comrades of tie page who knew that though I took no active part in the debate I was a staunch supporter of i Memory, up to this present day they still try to give me a dig and worry me into the | belief that Hope is always best. No, dear comrades; it is all very well to say* Hope is your guiding star, but sometimes that star turns into a comet, «nd you lose sight of it, then you are thrown ag«in into Memory's wonderland. Now, I will take you through that Wonderland for a little time, as it has been with me since last writing to the page My first little experience was leaving a >ood billet and not very hard work. I was doing a great stroke — going to be my own boss, etc., and do leas work still. Some of you will be beginning to think that I am a loafer, shuffler, or bookmaker. Perhaps I tm — we sbari see directly. Well, I am left on the street, with plenty of pluck within me, ' and going to start a business of my own, something on the same lines of my hist employment. I was in a very strange position, and had not too much cash. I started, got a, few agencies (all no good), worked -at them, canvassed, pushed!, and scratched, my cash decreasing and, my work increasing, and no returns coming *in. You see. I was starting in a smal'i way, and I failed. I didn't look at Hope, but went back to Memory, and found the very item I had been looking for. Two. yeajs previously I was in a different Milling. I brought this forward, had another j shot at the hurdle, and started to rise wrthi out striking. I still rose, and never got a 1 check, being fly of my first attempt. T was a htt c afraid of touching that line again, but being like a bee — "when he starts to «?et honey he likes to get more" — I kept on ndo-ini?. and now to-day "I am getting more work, getting mv pay ; I flare not look at Hope, if worry I must k&ep away." Dear comrades, it is a great thing in life to be contented, and from mv own oxperience J) would give a great deal to be abl« to go back to my d'd days, work my eight or nine hours, have a good bots. and when my gong or whistle call came rmt down my tools and go home contented. It is not po when one is in busiress. wh-ethor laTge or small ; all business men aay it is a great puzzle, and requires a never-ending study from' financial . affaiTS downwards. Be contended, hanp on I to Memory and don't cling to Hopp for fe*r I of a fall — Your« truly ST ELMA. j [And havp you really persuaded yourself 1 that you hiive aV>andoned hope. St Elma' . Don't be- ieve it for a moment Why. hoi^e I is a man's inheritance, and he clings to it till '< his fe*t ar* <n the threeho'd of the -tomb Even then he does not lose it, but ho makes an exchange for a, grander one. You pre j playing the pessimist, aren't you 9 Don't lei j the gan.e become earnest. I send you many warm; good wishes for your success. — DOT ] Dear Dot. — Long, long years ago — I am almost afraid to &ay exact y how many — a very htfle girl lived in r large farming district where the population was small and wiclelv scattered. There were no railways, no daily postal deliveries, no t«legr«.ph stations. The only medium of communication this district had with the civilisation so far away from us was the mail eoavh. which passed through twice a week, and which brought 1 «nc« a week ths. dear and welcome Qtago

Witness. And oh, what a queer Witnea it was --just a tiny little paper containing aboui 12 pages or so. How the grown-ups welcomed that little budget of news from the town they had left behind. How eagerly they scanned its pages for news of loved ones! And the little girl looking on wistfully wohdeTed what it could contain which delighted them so nruch. She it and welcomed itb coming just because they did, and would, look at the funny little advertisement pictures — hearses with great waving plumes and horses with flowing black covers, or ladies ■with elaborate cuds advertising seme hairdressing estab ishment. She could not read. Then one of the grown-ups, & well-beloved brother, had the misfortune to injure his leg ; this kept him confined to a couch for long weary months, during which time the little girl was his constant companion. Noticing her anxiety to know what the "Witness contained he taught her to read, and what do you think was her ABC book? — why, that same, dear d d Witness! She was so eager that by the time her sixth birthday • came round she could read quite nicely. She did not find the Witness so interesting as she had so fondly imagined it would be, because there was nothing in it then for little folk to Tead. Time flew on, and one night the wel. -beloved called, "Lola, Lola! Whr, here is something for you." Lola ran to him. Tim under one arm, Julia in the other. "Put down that oat and listen." Tim ■ was unceremoniously dropped, and she clambered up to a resting-place on the weltbeloved's knee. And what was the news? Why the children in future, were to have a little corner of the Witness all to themselves. Ah, was not that lovely? The Witness had grown as well as Lola, and contained 34 pages. From that time forward every week the Children's Corner contained a little poem and a short story, filling about two columns. Just about this .time Lola became seized with the ambition to become a writer.' I am afraid she" did -not receive much encouragement from, any of the grownups but the one well-beloved, as lessons and little tasks were lpt to be neglected while Lola entertained the Muses. She had found ' an appreciative audience in her little school mates, but she longed for a wider sphere. So she sent her stories to the editor of the Witness, who received them kind' y, and Lola wae proud and happy. She had strange, vague longings for literary comradeship, and she dreamt strange dreams and built beautiful castles in the air. the towers of which were lost in the blue skies. Suddenly, without any warning, a great storm »wept over her life; her ambitions perished, bar castles tumbled down with » crash. The wellbeloved had gone to the "land of shadowlese skies," whither she could not foKow. Life, which had hitherto been .so beautiful aod bright became «. hard stern reality. She , locked up her stories, finished and unfinished ; ' she turned to the dear old Witness; which remained the same, and turning to the Children's Corner she found a notice that someone called Dot would be glad to receive letters from little folk on any 'matters of interest to _ them. Next week one solitary little letter Appeared signed Jack. How Lola longed to write, but she. had passed the age limit. The gates of childhppd had closed behind ' her. One by one the children came i timidly thrjpugh "the gate* of D.L.F.-dom to sport in the' sunshine of IJot's kindfy smile, and soon they came in merry troops, and took possession of two oolum.ns of the paper. Suddenly all the lirtl« writers became seized' by the idea of Dot being a fairy godmother, who bestowed fairy gifts and names on little | pets brought to her court. And so they | came, a 'long procession, each bringing a I pet cat, doe, pig, or lamb with them. Although Dots inventive powers must have been taxed to the utmost, -no one was disappointed. Then the letters took on a more literary character as children of a larger growth -began to write ; and year by year the pago grew more prosperous and popular, until the letters fill eleven columns of the Witness. The little ones not only played on the grassy glades of D.L.F.-dom, but they did some substantial work collecting large sums of money for Dr Bernardo's Homes, and ! also for the Dunedin Kindergarten. Outside I the gate which was bsrred by the magical 1 age-limit. poor Lola stood gazing wistful 1 y at the fair domain which seemed so like the I land of her vague dreams. Long she watched ■ the children come and go, and loved them and shared their joys and ,sorrows unseen and unknown. And then out'own good, kind, gracious Dot opened the gate and invited her in. How proudly and how gTatefu' ly Lola accepted the invitation you all know. And just as long ago Lola stood alone with vague wistful longings, so to-night a' one she gazes away back into a past period when the Witness contained no D.L.F. Page and no gracious, loving Dot. Can you imagine it, Little Folk? No Dot to write to, no comrades to hail! What if the editor were to become so hard-hearted as to abolish the page and leave us sad and lonely, cut off from all communion with one another! Just in passing let me put in a plea for our clubb ; lam sure they deserve the support of every true, loyal D.L.F. A hearty wecome awaits one and all, so show your loyalty by going to the club. And now I may not meet you all again this yeaT, so I wish one and all a merry Christmas and a happy STew Year. When I was a little girl my dear old grandmother always a'" lowed us to sit up and welcome the j new "year. As the clock struck 12 she would I gather us to her and say • "Xoo, bairaies, let the o 7 d year gang wi' all its follies and mistakes, and tak' the new year wi' its braw bright face and keep it braw and bonnie all the year wi' firm resolves and high endeavours." — Yours truly. LOLA. [Thank you so much for this 'etter, Lola; no one but you could have written it, as I no one but you looks so far back through our history as to have known the need of a D L.F Page before ever there was one. Your letter will. I feel sure, be of the greatest interest to both old and present writers. — DOT.] Dear Dot.— Ts it really twelvt months since last O W.W ? How time does fly, to be sure. There was a time — long since past, a as! — when the hours were loug and the .days I seen-ed to be burdened with leaden wings . the days -when Christmas seemed to be a j century away, end when one's birthday api peared to come but once in a decade. How different it is now. Birthdays come all too often Christmas comes and gees with startling iap<dity. and as these periods I quickly succeed one another one cannot help | cxc aiming. ''How short the year has been." From this point I might very we.ll go ou and moralise, perhaps with advantage both to myself and to your readers. I might point out that, on auspicious occasions like Ibis, it behoves U9 to pause for a few mon-'ents for the purposes of self-communion or self-analysis I might show, by quoting , actua 1 experience, the benefits to be derived from a retrospective view of our thoughts and actions, particularly those oi the year just gone. I might quote Long-fellow's "Psalm of Life" and numerous selections from t'ue works of great authors All these I might do. and more; but I won't. With the approach of the festive season I wi.l throw I as^dc the mask of pendantry tuid, bjr sparing

the feelings of those wbo read this, prors to everybody's satisfaction, my ow«* included, that I am, above all things, generous. No one CRies to be told of his fatllts or to bs informed that retrospection olr any other: kind of 'spection is necessary tot his wallbeing. , Therefore I forebear, and say unto myself. "Good boy!" as in imagination I hear the cheers of the L.F. when they have read the above 'statement.

In one sens© I am sorry, for I love to! moralise — for other people's good. Now that I have robbed myself of a chief topic I ami at a loss what to write about. The weathea is discussed volubly every day; th» Land) Bill has long einoe been torn tp a. thousand shreds; the importation of Chinese -to the Band worries m* not^ and the fact that ths King of Italy has a bad- cough only shows me that he must have contracted a coixL Why. oh, why will not some enterprising and energetic individual step into th« bre&cfi and, by supplying üß^vho hay* no originality with a "Subjects for Correspondents" ox some such useful handbook, earn our appro* oiative and undying gratitude? Ah! I have it! Eureka! A subject at last. Circumstances governing my life have puU me into the position of a country traveller, and for some months p*et I haw been trotsting around various oountry districts in' th« North Inland. I have in* the course oi mj travels met some rather humorous experiences, and th« relation of them here may. not be entirely uninteresting. One evening I arrived at » little place in the northern part of Ha-wke's Bay. Accommodation was difficult to obtain There yon only two boarding-houses, and both of these were full. However, after speaking kindly to one of the landladies and firing; her at tired-out, pathetic emile, I war fortunsJo enough to secure a. bed. in a room with three other men. Being very tired, *I retired early, and soon after I was followed by two otherfev Shortly after entering the room one ol these noticed the stranger, lying 1 with his face from the light, apparently asleep. " 'Oos the bloke?" he inquired of hia mate. "Ihmno," was the reply. "I'm go in' to 'aye a look at his phiz, anyhow," said the first, and, .holding the oandl* over me, he proceed -to inspect my "phis." When the candle was withdrawn I thought it »9 my turn to speak; so I oaid, "I'm not asleep. If you really wish to have * look at me I'll turn round, -but perhaps you'd prefer io wait -until daylight." "I beg your pardon," said a small, weaJc voice. I repeated my remark. "I'll wait tin the morning," said my inquisitive friend in a. humble aad apologetic tone, and in a short time we were, *l\ asleep. Tbe incident was apparently closed, but in the morning my friend still maintained hi* apologetic demeanour. He otught, fed, and groomed my horse, and made himself so useful and obliging that he, metaphorically speaking, heaped coal* of fire on my head! for the snub I had administered tire previous night. . Speaking of my horse leads .me to cay hers that I oould write yards and yards about the faithfulness, the patience, and ths intelligence of the equine quadruped: I have been* used to horses all my life, bui I think I h&vs never appreciated their usefulness and iheji> sterling more than I do 'fo-day. You will infer from this that I have a good horse, and the inference will be a correct one. Day after day, week* after week, he carries me •thirty, forty, and up to sixty jniles- per day, and does it in s-uch a plucky, uncomplaining marner that I am almost as' fond of him aa of a human being. He has many -good points, the chief of which is Vhet he never growls or worries me with senseless chatter; ELe and I. -on our long journeys over the hills have many arguments on. an endless variety of subjects, and, unlike most arguments, they are always, concluded to the satisfaction of both parties. To b» strictly correct, I should say I do tbe arguing and! my horse does the listening He's a splendid listener, I ran assure you. But now for another so-called humorous experience. I was staying with a station manager arway in the back country of Poverty Bay. The old gentleman v very fond of music, but, like many others similarly situated, gets very few opportunities to gratify his tast#. He cannot even get a- piano into his place. There is no road, and everything has to be taken in by p«ck-horses, even ladies -who can't ride. On the particular evening I was there his daughter aad his son-in-law were also invited, and he decided to have » "concert grandioso." The various instruments at hand, comprising two accordeons, m tin whistle, and a mouth organ, were distributed, and the cowboy, who was ths fortunate possessor of a violin, was also) called in to assist. Oh, what a. time we had! Each one played his fancy solo or soli, ancl then I was made to sing. I sang song alter song until I was almost unable to speak, and then commenced, our grand orchestra] selection, "The sweet by-and-bye" (by special request). The c&A gentleman had hia big, old-fashioned acoordeoq, the cowboy had the tin whistle, and the son-in-law the second accordeon, the baby the mouth organ, and -yours truly struggled with the fiddle. What a, conglomeration of sound there wml I ami sadly afraid the instruments must have been of different keys. At a'l events, the effect ww» awe-inspiring and weird, the harmonies were fearful and wonderful, and the time was just about as ragged as that of an American coon song. Half a bar. half a bar., half * bar onwardl Growled the accordeon here. Wild screeched the fiddle there. Raising our listeners' hair Whi st they all wondered. Presently, with a grand flourish, our selection was concluded. The applause was long and wild, and for a time I seriously contemplated taking refuge behind the sof«. But I wa6 mistaken. What I thought to bs the ravingts of a maddened audience proved, instead, to be ecstasies of delight, and therefore, when pressed for another selection, we radily consented. Our number this time was the "Medley overture" from "The Flying Chinaman." This beautiful selection, composed and arranged by the celebrated Poot*aina, is not widely known, and a brief explanation here- may perhaps be pardoned. The bass accordean (the old gentleman) leads off at in energetic gallop. On "over" beonc called the flautist, with his pioooiute, joins in at the hundred yards' mark. Proceeding along the back stretch, tha soprano accordeon, at the sound of the referee's whistle-, makes a graceful debut. "Forty — love" signifies the entrance of the mouth organ, and when the limit -men "have got properly going the violin successfully negotiates the first hurd c aad helps to swell the harmonies. The beauty of the "overture" is that no two instruments follow the aame theme; each has a melody unto iteelf. And so on it meanders until the grand finale i» reached. And it was a grand finale. The players had warmed to their work and w«« producing their best. To fay our production was indescribable is but hftlf the truth. Here we were, all going at top speed. The old gentleman was pp aying what he conceived to be the "Dead march" from "Saul," the MOria-lx*

4raß counterbalancing that by a selection of glance music, the cowboy was valiantly struggling to make the strains of the "Blue jHlduW* waltz heard, the baby had an idea it was playing "God save the King," whilst I was mournfuFy wailing out "The last rose of summer." I had never heard or participated in Pootasina-'s "Overture" before, and I don't wish to repeat it. It might spoil or jjetract from the pleasures 1 that recollections of that night are sure to bring. But now the limits of space demand that I should conclude. Have I been too prosy? flae my letter been worth the reading? Well, whether or no, it has given me pleasure io writ* it, not because I enjoyed the actual" •writing, but because I wrote it with the tftrottot "W« -writ© for tfc« benefit of others, not for ourselves," singing* in my head. Now, 1 will make my exit for another twelve months, and in doing so would •esUre you, Dot, of my continued interest ift the welfare of the page and the clubs, and »f my earnest desire to do what I oan, at all thnes, for their future success. Wishing one and all a merry Christmas and • happy New Year,— Yours truly, LADDIE.

[The concert sounds delightful an paper; it is a most pleasant bit of humour. You fae evidently heaping up experiences out in your back-blocks for the enjoyment of your later years. I am so glad you still take the same keen interest in our page, and I hope to see you and give you all the news when you come down.-— DOT.]

. Qefcx Dot,— Oace more O.W.W. has come Sound; and tall our eld" comrade* may meet, «8« 8 in the -days of "»uldi luxg syne." Let us Bope that stir otlr old" friends will come for- . waffd and *lell how they are faring at the hands .of' Destiny.' For myself, I' am' plodding; along in the wmj* old groove. I cannot «fey there has been any great change in my life since 1 dioppefl out of the list of active D.L.F. And if at times the way has seemed' dark and dreary, there is one verse that I know which speaks true, and that may help some when the way "seems dark and dreary" t Never despair, though the way be dark ; Somewhere the sun is shining! Keep heart of cheer through the winter drear, Somewhere the roses are twining. Ever be hopeful, ever be true ; '. Some time for you shall the rpses bloom, A. glowing sun shine out of the btae On the path now wrapped in gloom. * To-day, in company with- some friends, I •pent « very enjoyable time in the bush. Many of the wild flowers are blooming, and the long strings of beautiful clematis looked 00 pretty among the dark green foliage. Tiebrambles were in bloom, also the maple, pepper trees, broadleaf, and mold. I do not think that anywhere dees Nature seem to epeak so directly to one as in the bush. I could ramble for hours, as long as there is no one with me to chatt«r incessantly. Commonplace* only jar, when one •is t drinking one's full of Nature. Dear Dot, this is only ♦ very short letter, but t will close it now and leave room for abler pens than mine. Ido hope this will be » record Q.W.W., and that all the teal old writers will send a, letter. Kindest regards to all 3>.L.F. and yourself.— Yours truly, ~' , HIAWATHA. [I have .'had th*e good fortune, too; Hiawatha-, to* be right away in the very heart of th« bush, and echo every word you say ef it. On. the tops of the' lonely mountains mid besid* thundering' waterfall* one conies to a nobler contemplation of life-; and thefruit of ' those- . moments is with us in the crowded streets of the towns.— DOT.] Dear Dot,— You do me a great compliment ■when you call me a "really" Oild Writer, for my motive acquaintance- with the page is only about six years at most* The circumstances which led up to my becoming a D.L.F. are Slot generally known, so I may as well relate warn here. ULr elder brother and I have both been in the Volunteer* for a considerable time— nine and seven years respectively — *nd ai the time of the Duke of York's visit to the colonies we both accompanied the corps, to which we belonged to Christchurch and Dunedin. I need not speak of -the glorious time we two had, but will return to my ■torf. My brother knew Nut well, and as 2sflt *was staying in Dunedin a. few days longer than we were he gave his sister and 1 h«r mate (Jessica and Ret*) into our charge, to see- them safely aboard the train and keep them company during the journey. The train was crowded to overflowing, and rather tho endure the packed, stifling carriages the four of us adjourned to the back platform of the last carriage, which was vacant. Needless to cay, we all wanted to talk at One* and tell each other of our tripe; but ftfier a- while I settled down to listen and Jessica to ta!k» My brother and Reta were arguing about something or other at the other side of the platform, and we were practically alone in the world. The train ar&ftfed on aoross the Taieri Plain, casting aIttilliaat funnel of light from its powerful &eftdlight. The long, trailing banner of smoke overhead was ever and anon luridly lit up by the -opening of the furnace door % The sharp, iroety air swirled over and around us, and Jessica epoke on, as only Jessica can speak, whilst I listened as- only those can listen who &n't'get a word in edgeways. She told me of the meeting at the Witness Office and the photo which* was taken, and spoke, of many Old Writers whose names are unknown to the younger generation. She gave me her auto. (a printed one), and made me promise to ■write, and there the incident, %as far as this tale is concerned, closed. You may remember that th« weather after the Duke's visit •was very rough and wet. Work out of doors ■was impossible, so my brother and I stayed indoors, and after the manner of our kind ■we humbugged our patient (?>, long-suffer-in* (??) sisters. Perseverance has its reward, »nd *t last I w*s rewarded with the baldibeaded! end of the broom. I was further told an no measured term* to "do something harmless and quiet. Writs to Dot, It will keep you quiet for a while." We had omitted mo detail when giving those at tome an account of our trip.) I was seized with inspiration-, and, procuring pen, ink, and paper, 1 got as far from the deadly broomstick as possible and commenced my first letter. It was written under a running fire of sarcasm irom all present; but at last it was finished. The question of a N.D.P. next came uppermost. Naturally, my brothers and Bisters supplied me with dozens of them offnand ; but I liked none of them. A "penny dreadful" or "twopenny awful" was lying on tho table Wfore me. It contained a picture of Buffalo Bill and his brother scout, Texas Jack engaged in the usual thrilling adventures as per invoice. Jack being ray first names I thought the N.D.P. very suitable, «nd adopted it without further consideration. How the name has stuck to me you all know. Nc doubt. I'll carry it for; the rest of my natural Hfe. I have never had the least cttuse to regret having become a D.L.F.. and itfany times I have n»d good cause to be glad T was one. Many of the place 9 I have visited in my somewhat adventurous career ■would havo been very dull and quiet were it £ot for the introductory power of the little «Uv«r badge, the emblem of. friendship. ffibicli I always wear when travelling. Doiens

r of good, loyal friendships I would never have farmed: bad it not been for the ties of D.L.F-dom-, and at least one night more per week would have to be filled in somehow, and probably in some less innocent fashion, were it not for the social circle round the table in the club room. Also, moreover, and likewise, many a pie would have remained! stale, cold, and undevoured on the refreshment room shelves were it not for the hungry gatherings at Exhibition Corner on Saturday nights at 9 o'clock. Kindest regards to yourself, the editor, and all L.F. — Yours truly, TEXAS JACK. [I think it 19 indeed most likely, Texas Jack, that if in cay 30 years' time you meet one of your old friends of "Exhibition Corner" you -will be bailed again by the friendly name of "Texas. ' As you say, it will stick to you now, — and you might have many a worse thing sticking to you than all that that name conveys. Good luck to you' for the ensuing year!— DOT.] Dear Dot, — It is with extreme pleasure that I once again pen theee magic words, which ever are associated with thoughts, scenes, and comrades most dear. How I have longed for the time when I should, thanks to 0.W.W., be enabled after a lapse of some months to enjoy the peace and happiness which ever go hand and hand with the writing of D.L.F. letters. My friends, how true are the words. "The pen is mightier than the sword." TJiink, dear Little Folk, what yeu -and I would have missed were it not for that dear little instrument — the pen! If my pencould only at the present time form the words to express my feelings,, then, indeed, I should look on it as a dear friend; but, alas! no word* can tell the wonderful amount of joy I have derived from our pages. I f«ei that nothing would give me greater, pleasure thaiLto be able to put down. my pen and, in' happy thought, live over the many pleasant hours spent with my D.L.F. comrades. Though it has not been my good' fortune, dear friends, to meet and converse with many of our band, still my spirit is ever in your midst — at the club meetings 1 , at the D.L.F. picnics and socials; in fact, it is ever in D.L.F.-land. I really think that, if possible, I have taken a. greater interest in the L.F. Pages since I was compelled through "old age" to send in my retiring letter. *Why, the page, or pages rather, are making more rapid strides every day! X am quite sure that no portion of the Witness or of any other paper is perused so eagerly and so earnestly and with such great pleasure as those few page* which we all have learned to love, and the honour of which we shall ever try to uphold. How pleased our dear, departed chief must feel when he looks down on us from above and sees the young plants which he nursed and tended with such loving care growing and blotsoming into manhood and womanhood, helping to cheer the pathway of the weary and the troubled; when he sees the fruitful result of his many years of ceaseless work, and realises that his toil has not been in vain; and When he sees those loving comrades who once honoured and loved bun as their dear leader now rallying round his successor, and giving her the allegiance which he would have us give her— yes, indeed, he must feel that his. life down here among his L.F. wu not wasted; but he should indeed be -thankful that he has been the means of leading so many, young folk .to see with his ■ own eyes, to know right from wrong, to feel the pleasures' derived from helping others, and to know, and appreciate the love of so many comrades. I fear, dear Dot and Little Folk, tHat if I let my pen run on much longer I shall be encroaching on space which could be better devoted to writers more worthy than my humble self. Thanking you, dear leader" and dear comrades, for the many pleasant hours spent in. D.L.F.-dom, I will say «v revoir until S.S.W. Wishing you one and all a very merry Christmas and a most prosperous New Year, I am, dear Dot and L.F.,— Yours truly, S. R. H. C. [I am> so glad you found; time to write for our meeting, even though you were in the midst of examination worries. Having that over, you will be able to enjoy the reading of O.W.W. with a happy and peaceful mind. It does, indeed, promise a good meeting; I have quite enough letter* to fill next week's Witness as well.— DOT.] ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. Scribbles. — Thank you to much for the kindness that prompted you to send m« the little posy of your wild flowers. They were unfortunately somewhat faded when they leached me, but I could see that they had been beautiful, and most daintily arranged. It is a, privilege to live where such things grow. Best of Friends.— Thank you very much for the Christmas card. I received the stamps for the Witness, and am sending it to you. Spahrowdawk, Daisy Primrose, Bleeding Heart and The Last Rose of Summer.— Many thanks for the Christmas cards and good wishes. D.L.F. BADGES. Badges sent to Flag Ldly, Hydrangea, Lord Ronald, Madame Vine.