DOT’S LITTLE FOLK.

Otago Witness, Issue 3212, 6 October 1915, Page 77

DOT’S LITTLE FOLK.

IMPORTANT NOTICE.

Dot invites abort letters from her young riends throughout the lominoon on matters f Interest to themelves, the result ol heir observations in he animal world, deoriptions of anything hey are interested in, >1 the district in vhioh they live, ol heir school and home Ife, holiday trips, &c. Ihe letters are to be mtten by the little slk themselves, and .ddressed “Dot, care f Editor Witness.”

Dot’s Little Folk’s Badge with pin, for use as a brooch, obtainable on application to Dot. Price, la 6d post free, in penny or halfpenny stamps. Ante. Cards are obtainable from Dot, Witness Office, Dunedin. Price, 9d for 28.

D-L.F. writers are reminded that all letters must now bear lid postage. The halfpenny is their share of the war tax. Possibly the Government never contemplated that they would be levying such a tax on D.L.F. Where there is more than one writer In a family the letters may be enclosed In one envelope. OLD WRITERS’ WEEK. PRELIMINARY NOTICE. The date far holding our annual reunion of Old Writers has been fixed for October 27, and the latest date for receiving letters, October 18. As is usual during this period, letters from the L.P. will not be received, so the young people need not be disappointed if their letters are not published It is hoped there will be a good response from the Old Writers, though necessarily the numbers have been depleted owing to so many of our young men having given their services to the Empire. This, however, should prove an incentive to those remaining at home to snow thensoldier comrades that the old comra'deslnp still exists, and that they are not forgotten by their old friends. Many of tnexn doubtless receive papers from their home people, and I am sure it will delight their hearts to hear and read of their friends of the U.Li.ji. page. BILLY. By Stephen Gv/ynn. Billy was dreadfully troubled over the state of his finances. He was absolutely broke, and this at a time, too, when ne had very special need of money. Never in all the six years of his life had he felt so harassed. He positively hadn’t a penny to go on with. It was his last visit to the “ tuck ” shop that was the cause of his embarrassment. He had been riotously extravagant, and had spent the who.© of his week’s pocket money on some particularly delicious-looking chocolates. He had just shared the last of these with his classmates when his teacher made a strong appeal to her pupils on behalf of the starving Belgians. She had asked for a penny a week from each child. But all the boys in Billy’s class agreed among themselves to- bring threepence to-morrow. All these l boys had fathers who were not careful to count the pennies and sixpences they gave their sons; but Billy had only a mother, and she was very strict indeed in the matter of pocket money, and never under any circumstances permitted her little boy to exceed his al.owance. Billy sometimes wished for a father, too; he had not even the remembrance of one. But he would not have exchanged his own beautiful, ’ “ chummy ” mother for any boy’s parents—not even for all the pennies in the world. Billy was very sorry for the brave Belgians. Ho had heard some friends of his mother talking one day as they worked in the dining room at making and mending things. He had never before seen so many busy women together. The things they talked of made Bi.ly want to climb into his mother’s lap and cry. But he wouldn’t cry before such a lot o-f people, so ho sat very upright in a corner, half-hidden by a curtain, and blinked very bard to keep the tears from falling, till his mother suddenly discovered him, and hastily sent him on a message. He hadn’t heard much about these sad things since, except from his schoolmates, and once a little girl had recited The Cry of the Belgian Children ” at a concert. That had decided him to send his Christmas presents to these children. And now the teacher had made him more sorry than ever by telling of hungry little boys and girls whose mothers had no food to give them. He knew what it was to bo hungry, for once he had played “ Hare and Hounds,” and bad followed the scent such a long, long way that he missed his lunch and afternoon school, and had reached home very late indeed feeling wretchedly weak and faint, with a peculiar internal pain such as he had never experienced before or since. So, of course, he agreed at playtime to give threepence like the rest of the boys. He felt so sorry, and, after all, it was only half a week’s pocket money. It was not till afterward® that he remembered ho had already spent it all. To make matters worse, he felt that quick action was necessary, because the money had to he sent such a very long way—right to the other side of the world. He was wretched to think a week must elapse before his first contribution could bo paid. How be wished he had resisted the temptation of those chocolates! “ What was to be done ? He racked his brain, but could think of no way out of the difficulty. Perhaps, for such a purpose, his mother might relax her stern mile and give or advance the needed sum. But he doubted it. He felt quite careworn, and looked it. His mother saw something was wrong, and said: “Well, Billy, boy, what is it? Is it anything I can help yon with?” “ I don’t know whether you can, mother,” Billy began despondently, “ because you always make yourself, as well as me, keep rules. But,” he went on more hopefully, “ this is a very serious thing— so—-so —sorry a case that even you might break a rule for It.” And he told her all about it, not sparing himself in the tolling. The mother found it hard to resist the eloquent pleading of the swimming blue ©yes, for she knew it was really sorrow at his impotence to help that troubled' him most. But remembrance of the spendthrift father who had left widow and son so sorely Impoverished gave her the necessary firmness. Her boy must be taught to avoid reckless expenditure. Her voice was very

regretful as she »aid: “ I cannot let you draw on me for any of next week’s allowance, dear. Next week will bring its own demands, and we can never be quit© sure what these will be. Then, if I gave you the money it would not help really, for it would be taken from my own contribution to the fund. I am doing all I can, you know, Billy.” , , . Yes. He saw that clearly, for he had noticed many little economies in their home. “ I know you are doing all you can, he said despairingly. “ You haven’t got many dresses and things left now. So, though his mother kissed him. and was evidently very sorry, filie h-ad no liolpful 6Ug-g-estion to otter. Sne was “ ripping about it in one way—isbe did not “ rub it in about the “tuck” shop, tbougb sbe never approved of his spending money there. Well, the situation was hopeless indeed, since even she was powerless to deal with it.

“ Never again will I spend all my money, mother,” he exclaimed. “ I’ll always keep some in er—er —preserve.” , “ That’s the way, Billy,” said his mother, repressing a- smile. “It is only by keeping a little in reserve that we can be sure of being able to help others a bit when w© want to. You are feeling now, dear boy, one of the worst results of spending carelessly and selfishly. The next day she 'regretted her refusal, for Billy succumbed to temptation in a way she would never have expected. He could not go to school without that threepence, and when he saw the money for the baker lying on the kitchen dresser he eupreptitiously abstracted the necessary com. His mother saw the act a® she re-entered the room. She did not call him back, and she said nothing about it when he came homo to lunch. She waited, knowing he would have to unburden his mind to her sooner or later.

Billy was now more miserable than ever. He felt a queer pain in the region of his chest that was far harder to bear than the pangs of hunger had been, for this pain persisted. He heaved several deep sighs in his efforts to dislodge it, but it was obstinate. He tried to talk cheerfully about all sorts orf things, and his mother played up to his lead; but there were tones in her voice that reminded him of days when he was sick and she was sorry. He nearly broke down when she kissed him. He wondered what she would say if she knew her little son was a thief. One of the tiniest children had that very morning taken another child’s penny, and some of the chaps had said that boy was a thief. When the teacher heard of it she said, “No; because Bobby is not old enough yet to know better.” But Billy knew better so —Oh, dear! Things had got into a dreadful tangle. The problem before Billy now' was how to put the matter right. He began by eating very little bread, so that the stolen money might be saved. Next he* resolved to try and earn threepence, for it was impossible to carry such a heavy burden till next week. He could not meet his mother’s eyes. There were not many ways in which such a little chap conld earn money, but he thought of one at last. There was auntie, who lived next door. He was very fond of auntie, and she of him. He did lots of things for her, like running messages and posting letters. These she always let him do “ for love.” But there was one thing she would insist on paying him for. She said weeding the garden was such tiresome work for a boy that he must only do it for her when he wanted to earn some money. Her garden had been weeded quite recently, but in his desperation he thought of going and hunting for weeds. He invited auntie to walk in her garden with him. Then he pointed out weeds among her violets, and offered to pull them all out for threepence. He generally refused this particular piece of weeding as too tedious to do at any price. But to-day, as soon as the bargain was made, he set to work with a will, and before dark had collected his wages. Auntie was not in the habit of putting personal questions, but curiosity prompted her to ask the reason for such dire need of cash, as this unwonted industry betokened. Billy told her he owed the money, and wanted to pay his debt at once. That night, after h© had gone to bed, his mother found the threepence on the dresser. Still, she waited for the confession she hoped would come. She noted with relief in the morning that her boy still looked unhappy. He continued to sigh from time to time in the vain effort to lift the pain from his chest. She thought to help him “Have you a pain, Billy?” she asked. “ Yes, and it won’t go away though I’ve done all I can.” “What have you done?” she asked hopefully. Bi.ly sighed again. “ Oh, everything,” he replied evasively. She did not press the point, and Billy rather wondered ishe did not suggest a poultice or something horrid of that sort. But, though she looked very sorry, she did not even ask where the pain -was. Suddenly it struck Billy that only once before had he seen her look so sorry. It was when he had told her a lie. He remembered, though it was a long time ago, how she had cried with quivering lip, “ Oh, my son, why did you not tell me the truth ?” And he had clung to her and sobbed reproachfully, “ Why didn’t yon tell me what was the trooff? Then I would have said it. I would have said anything you wanted me to say.” Then she had patiently explained to him what she meant by truth, and since that time he had been scrupulously truthful. A sudden thought stabbed .him. He was deceiving her again. He could not hear that. With a wailing cry he buried his face in her lap, and cobbed out everything. “ I know, darling. I have been waiting for you to tell me. I could not have borne it much longer. Now I am glad, because I can trust my little son again.” “ It has done me such a lot of good to tell you. mummie, dear. The pain has quite gone now,” he said, drawing a deep breath of relief. “ My pain has gone, too,” his mother remarked, quietly. This gave Billy food for thought, the result of which was a firm resolve never to give his mother such a pain again. LETTERS FROM THE LITTLE FOLK. Motto;—Wo write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves. E»sr No letter to contain more than 450 words. Dear Dot, —This is my first letter to your page. Please may I join your happy band? I am in the Sixth Standard at school. We have not had our examination yet, so I do not know if I can leave school. There is quite a large number of D.F. up hero, and I know every one of them. The grass is getting greener and greener every day. We have all our flower seeds in now. Isn’t this war dreadful, Dot! A good many young men are away from here. Wo had a good shower of rain on Thursday. Did you have any rain in town. Dot? We have three trees out in bloom —two plum trees and

one pear tree. The daffodils and violets are out in the gardens. Love to all the L.F. and yourself.—Yours truly, O’LEARY. V.C. (Sutton).

[Very pleased to have you join us, O’Leary, and I hope you do well in your examination.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Since I last wrote to you I have had a cousin killed at the front. He was only 23 years of age. Those of my D.L.F. comrades who have lost any of their relations at the front have my deepest sympathy, for now I know what it is to have someone killed, you love. The Tuturau Dairy Factory opened on the 23rd of September. It will soon be Christmas again, and the war is still going on I Such a lot of young fellows are giving their lives for their King and country. The school teacher went away from here on the 29th of September. Kind regards to all the D.L.F. — Yours truly, SOMEBODY’S GIRL.

[lt is when, one is personally afflicted that one realises the awfulness of war, Somebody’s Girl.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —May I join your happy band? I am 10 yeara old, and am in the Fifth Standard at school. I like going to school very much. We are feeding two calves and are milking two cows. Can you give me names for the calves—one is a heifer and the other a bull ? I know a good many Little Folk about here. I have three cousins at the war, and three at Trentliam. Two have been wounded, and are in the hospital. With best love to the D.L.F., not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, PINK ROSE (Round Hill).

[Roger might do for one and Diana for the other, Pink Rose, - if you cure for them.— DOT.]

Dear Dot, —As so many others have said,

“May I become one of your happy band?” I think there is nothing- so interesting as reading the D.L.F. letters, and as we get the Witness I nearly always read them. My sister was a D.L.F. once; but when she last wrote Ido not know. As she is now 21 she will have to retire., but I will try and get her to write at the O.W.W. My only brother is away with the Sixth Reinforcements, so I suppose he will be nearEgypt by now. We had a letter from A.bany, and he said that they were having a lovely voyage, so I hope they have the same all the way. He wars not able to give us any news, as the letters are censored; but if there is anything interesting in hrs other letters I shall tell you. I have two cousins away also; but they were in the Fourth Reinforcements, and are now fighting at the Dardanelles. I think Kelso has done its share, for it has sent over 20 men away. There are hardly any men left; still there are some who could go, but won’t go until it is made compulsory. I have read a good few books, and some of those I have read lately are “ Jess and C 0.,” “ Mrs Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch,” “Love’y Mary,” and several of Annie Swan’s—all very good books, especially ‘‘Mrs Wiggs,” which the youngest to the oldest would enjoy. If you have not read it I will explain some of it in the next time I write. Have you ever been up as far as Kelso, Dot ? It is a very pretty place in summer, as it is surrounded by hills, and some of these hills are covered with bush. Another feature is the Pomahaka River, which winds round and flows through Kelso. So if you ever want a. place to spend your holidays, just come up to Kelso, though perhaps you would not think the place quite so pretty as we do. I think I will have to close now. Kind regards to Lady Mollie, Starlight Rose, Carpathia, Mr Nobody, and all the other D.L.F. —Yours truly, EUROPENA (Kelso).

[No, I must confess, I have never been to Kelso, Europena, but your evident appreciation has aroused a desire to view the beauties of .it for myself, so perhaps I may just take a look at it some day.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—l did not see my last letter in the Witness, as I was away from home. I have just read a letter written by Mother’s Nurse Girl. She is the maid at our place. I am enjoying a 10 days’ holiday from school. I think I told you in a previous letter that I attend the Gore School, and there are 52 children in my standard. Wo have just had our quarterly examination, and my teacher told me that I passed. I am getting on very well with my music, and have some nice pieces to play now. They seem a litfle hard at first, but after a practice or two they are easy. The flowers are coming out beautifully now that spring is here. There are scores of daffodils in our garden, and the flowering currant is out also. My mother has early potatoes Sin or Gin above the ground. The farmers round this part are all taking advantage of these good days and are getting their crops sown. I was at the “ Old Times Whirley,” and a blind man played solos on a violin and piano, and ladies and gentlemen sang oldtime songs. Little girls and boys had their faces and hands blackened, and were singing, and they looked so funny. I see that the Country Queen in Dunedin is at the top of the pole. The Highland Queen down at Gore had concerts nearly every night, and stalls on the streets on Saturdays. It was all very exciting. Our school starts on Tuesday morning, so I must leave home on Monday. I get a ride going to school sometimes in a motor car. I noticed that Hindustan has changed her place of residence ,and goes to Milton School. I have not seen a letter from Nellie Ely for a long time. This afternoon one of my Hillend school mates came over to see me, and I am going over with her to stay all night, and get a ride in my daddy’s motor car. Well, I think I will close now. Love to all the D.L.F., not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, TULLY SKERNEY (Hillend).

[I am so glad you have passed, Tully Skerney. You seem to bo enjoying your holidays to the full extent.—DOT."] Dear Dot, —May I join your happy band? I am 10 years of age, and in the Fourth Standard. What kind of weather are you having down in Dunedin ? The weather hero is very dry. All our tanks are empty, so wo are using the hard water from the well. An auntie in Dunedin sends us the Witness every week, and I do like reading Dot’s Little Folk’s letters. Is not this war terrible. Dot! I have two cousins and an uncle at it. One cousin is in France, tho other at Trcntham, and my uncle is missing. Dot, I will put my real name below my other name. Love to all the D.L.F., not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly.

LOVEDAY II (Tatar?.)

[There is another writer with the same N.D.P. as you have chosen., dear, eo I have had to make a distinction between the two by making you Loveday lI.—DOT.]

Dear Dot and Comrades, —The time has now come for me to send in my retiring letter, as I have reached the ago limit. I have been writing to the page for 11 or 12 years, I think. I hope the O.W.W. will be a great success this year. 1 shall be looking forward for letters from Shasta, Harry, Sheila, Ptero, Lavinia, Marnys, Portree, Creamy, and many more of our Old Writers. Wo are having very dry weather. Wo had a nice shower on Thursday afternoon. which will do a little good; exit we.

like Oliver Twist, are asking for more. It was the first good shower we havo had for months. Some of the farmers have had to kill their stock, as they havo no feed lor them. The supply of milk received in the local dairy factory is very low at present, being only 300 odd gallons per day. Cheese was made here last season, but we don't know yet if it will bo made here this season. The flower gardens aro lookmg quite gay with the spring flowers now; but they die very qtiick-y with the heat and dry winds. We would not have had a flower this spring if mother and I did not water them every day. The birds are very bad on the seeds and plants this year. I had radishes nicely up, and watered them in the. morning as usual, and in tno evening not one was to be seen. X then began to miss some of my cress, which I was watching, and thinking w© should soon be able to use. However, I saved a little by covering it. Mother sowed lettuce seed under a lin mesh wirenetting frame, and as soon as the seed came up tile birds got through the nettmg and helped themselves. They are also taking the peas, so lather covered them with tree branches; but as they were growing very slowly he took olf the branches, and is now trying soot around the plants to keep off the birds. 1 was very p.eased to see the letters from Elbon and Ivanhoe. Quito a number of young men have gone to the front from this district, some of whom have been wounded. Two have returned with the last lot —one is in the Dunedin Hospital, and the other is at home. A few more young mien here have lately volunteered for the front. I am not going to say anything more about the war; it is too terrible to think of any more than we can help. Well, now, dear Dot and comrades, I must say good-bye, with love and best wishes to you all, and success to the page and all connected with it. I also send love and best wishes to Mrs White, and many thanks for all her kindness to me; and also hearty congratulations to Sheila and Ptero. Once more I say good-bye, and all good luck go with you.—Yours truly, KITTY (Palmerston).

[I hope now that your turn has come you will not forsake ua during 0.W.W., Kitty, but will keep in touch with us at least once a year. Thank you for your good wishes for the page, which I am sure will be heartily reciprocated by all.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —It is -some time since I last wrpte to the page; but better late than never, isn’t it? We have our little cousin staying with us. She has been here three weeks. My sister won two pictures at the bazaar in aid of the wounded soldiers. It is very hot to-day. Our examination is on Thursday, and I will be glad when it is over. Love to Daylove, Loveday, Aunt Nell, and Water Lily, not forgetting yourself.— Yours truly, TE MA HA NGA LASS (Miller’s Plat). [I suppose your sister is quite pleased with her success at the bazaar.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —What sort of weather are you having in Dunedin, Dot? We are enjoying lovely sunny days here. Is not this war terrible, Dot! I have one cousin and one seconded cousin wounded at the war. Are you fond of reading, Dot ? I have just finished some books. The names of them are

" A Bad Boy’s Diary,” “ A Bad Girl’s Diary,” “ When We Were Girls Together,” and “ Marian and Dorothy.” They are all very interesting. Sea Breeze, did you say that you have not received my letter yet ? Well, I answered your letter. We had a carnival at our school ,-and it turned out to be a great success. It was for the Country Queen. Dear Dot, I think I will close now. Love to Sea Breeze and Lady of the Lurley, not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, NONA (Awarua Plains).

[A much-needed shower of rain fell last night, Nona, and though with one half of our beings we have wanted rain, the other half has been revelling in the glorious sunshine. —DOT.] Dear Dot> —Is not this war terrible, Dot! Have you seen any poor wounded soldiers? I have seen one -with his eye out. My sister nursed him. We have four pet lambs, and they are doing well. I have four geese sitting, and a sitting of turkeys coming out. The Pool burn school residence got burnt down in half on hour on Saturday night about 11 o’clock. We have about 200 lambs in the paddock. Dove to Jug of Punch, Golden Whip, and Dotterel, not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, INDIAN BOY (Poolburn).

[I hazarded a guess that it is 200 lambs you have in your paddock, Indian Bay. you miaed out the word, so I supplemented lambs. Am I right?—DOT.] Dear Dot, —We are not having very nice weather up this way just now. There is going to be a concert up here on the 4th of next month, -so I hope there will be a big - crowd there, don’t you. Dot ? Hurry up -and write to the page, Bella Donna and Crepe Fern. I haven’t seen a letter from you for a long time. The trees are all getting green now. I have eight dozen birds’ eggs. Best love to all the L.F. and yourself.—Yours truly, MOUNTAIN LILY (Glenorchy). [Do you sell the eggs, dear ? I join with you in hoping for a good night and a big attendance at the concert.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —We have been having lovely weather here lately. To-day it has been raining; but it was needed. The railway is going ahead. There is a cutting in our place now, and they have most of the bush cleared. We have 10 cows in now, and are starting the factory to-ni-orrow. I have to cart the milk again this season. Wo have had another concert in aid of the wounded soldiers, and gathered ,£46 —.£4O -at the door and £6 for a tray of cakes. There is to be a school concert on the Bth of next month. I received my badge all right, and was very pleased with it. I have had -a very sore ankle, but it is getting better now. I wascoming down the hill, and sprained it, and it ivaa so swollen when I got home I could not fasten my shoe. Rainbow’s mother, father, and brother motored through here to-day. What do yon think of this war, I don’t know whatever will happen if it continues much longer. Whenever are you going to write, Pink Clover and Primula? I have not heard from you yet. Love to Blueberry, Pink Clover, Primula, and Rainbow, not forgetting yourself.— Yours truly, GRACE DARLING (Tuatapere).

[I am quite sure I posted the badge, Grace Darling. However, since it has not arrived, I will send another to Chip.— DOT.]

Dear Dot. —The carnival is over at last, and we have settled down to quietness once more. The weather has been glorious this week, but the country wants rain badly. There was a patriotic social here last night, but I did not go-. I have been trying to paint a box, and it looks pretty streaky; but I suppose the next attempt I make will be a little better—l hope so, anyhow. I have read another book since I last wrote. It is entitled “Within tho Maze,” by Mr® Henry Wood. That is the second of hexbooks I have rend, and they were both dcliglxtful books. I wonder whenever this war

will cud. It seems to be getting worse every day; but one thing is certain: Germany won’t win. Well, I think I have said enough for the present, so I wjl! close with love to all the L.F., not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, VANITY FAIR (Oamnru).

[By a stroke of fortune first attempts often exceed our anticipations, but in painting the old adage holds good, " Practice makes perfect.” —DOT.]

Bear Dot, —It is very wet to-day, so I am not very busy. Little Miss Vanity has gone to Slope Point to service; but I don’t know how she likes out there, as she has been away only a few days. One of my brothers got married on the 15th of September, and 1 enjoyed myself at the wedding and the dance. We had about nine miles to go, over a very rough road, but altogether I thought it well worth the drive. The bride had clematis flowers, and they were very pretty; they arc out so early this season. It was a fins day for the wedding. I did not come home again until the next afternoon, so I think I did veiy well. Firefly lias not boon well lately; ho has had the earache, and has not bean well otherwise either; but he is recovering now. I suppose Ihe wedding upset him, as he is not seasoned to weddings yet. Perhaps ho ate rather much cake. (I hope ho doesn’t read this.) I had a pot iamb this year, but it died. It really was Little Miss Vanity’s property, but I was taking care of it. We have a pot pig just now. The- poor liitle chap was very lame, and the others knocked him about, so we had to take him away from them Arms, Leg's, and Yell built him a house, and made him a trough, so he is quite in style now. VVe have him in the garden; but as he never gets into mischief I think he must be feeling pretty bad. We ore milking 16 cows, and have 14 little calves. There were 12 little pigs, but they are all sold but three. We have a lot of stock flower's and daffodils and primroses blooming just now, but very little else. Last night, just as it was getting dark, there was a bat flying round the house catching flies. We were quite interested, as it is a good many years since we had seen one about. It was thought they had all died out about here. When it was, low down it made a funny noise, something like a mouse squealing. We have 12 hens, and we get about nine eggs a day, so they are not doing so badly. Wo are going to start preserving come for next winter very' eoon. We have two ducks, and they lay very nearly every morning. Well, Dot, as I can’t think of anything e.se to say, I will close with love to all the Little Folk, not forgetting yourself. —Yours truly, LITTLE MISS NEDDYCOAT (Waikawa).

[Do you judge an animal’s stale of health by its capacity for getting into mischief, Little Miss Neddy coat ? I hope Firefly is quite better again.—DOT.) Dear Dot, —Since I last wrote to the page I have been very ill with influenza, and it is not a good thing to have. Quite a number of people down here have the cold. My brother has been very ill. He had to bo driven away to a doctor, as he couldn’t walk or ride for pains all over his body. Wild Irish Hose’s father drove him away. We are all getting in our crops now. I have a flower garden in, and I have a lot of daffodils and jonquils out. I saw your letter in the paper on Saturday, Postman Henry; but I didn’t see any from you, Saucy Joe. I received your letter, Saucy Joe, and will answer it soon. The c-ematis and lawyer flower in the bush are lovely just now. The lawyer has a very ■ nice smell. I pulled some clematis and gave it to one of my mates, and she put them in hot water, and they do look pretty. Love to Dot and all the L.F. members.—Yours truly, LUPULITE (Slope Point).

[I hope the disagreeable effects of the influenza have worn off now, Lupulite. The ink serves the purpose.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —I now take the pleasure of writing to you. I have never seen such a lot of bush clematis out as there is this year, for some of the trees are just loaded. They look beautiful, and all round the beach just before Christmas the sandhills are covered with white and lilac oonvolvus, and it has a beautiful smell. I thank you for that lovely name you gave me for my doll j but I am .very sorry to tell you my brother had to drown my cat, for it had such a bad coid I did not like to hear it coughing. Love to all the D.L.P., not forgettingyourself.—Yours truly.

CONVOLVULUS (Waikawa). [I think you were very wise to drown the cat, dear, as an animal with an ailment is usually rather a source of danger than anything else.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, Don’t you think I am lazy for not writing before this? My father has made a good start to put in a vegetable garden, for he says he thinks we shall need it before the war ends, as things will he very dear yet. Dear Dot, our cows will soon start to come in. We may probably have some trouble to break them in, as they have never been milked before; but we have a stockyard built now, so we won’t have any bother to get them in the bail. We have a pet cow; she follows us everywhere for broadleaf.—Yours truly, 808 (Waikawa). [lt must be- quite exciting watching the operations, Bob. I think I would like a secure p.ace though, even to watch how things were going.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, May I become one of your happy band ? I have always taken a great interest in reading the D.L.F. letters. I am 15 years and four months old; my birthday alls on the 3th of June. I have been boardmg at a convent for three years, and I liked being there. I was learning to play the piano and I liked it very much. I live on a big farm of about 3030 acres of land We have a good lot of sheep, cattle, and horses The nearest town to us is about SO miles so you can see, Dot, we are well out of the way. Dot, is this not a- terrible war. There are always heavy casualties in the papers I am enclosing Is 6d for a badge, which I hope you get safely. This is a long letter for the first, so I will olo=e Dove and kindest regards to all the D.L.P’ not forgetting yourself.—Yours truly, ’’ SUNBEAM (South Westland). [I am delighted to welcome yon to bur band, Sunbeam, and we shall always be glad to receive letters from you. Yon are certainly far away from what is termed civilisation; but I am sure you are quite happy on your big farm, as there is much to interest one.—DOT.) Dear Dot,—l was at a demonstration at Invercargill last Wednesday week, and I enjoyed myself very much. The procession was the best I have ever seen. It was over three miles long, and such a variety! It wasi worth _ going to see. I was at another demonstration last Wednesday, and my mate and I walked three miles to Edendale to-day, and by the time w© got there wo were like rats. It was raining something fearfully. Wo_ went to the hotel, and stayed in the sitting room until tea was ready. The weather here has been very hot for the last month right up until to-day, and it did not forget to rain to make up for the month of

line weather. Mum was telling me that I Jiad better stop writing loiters every week,

as it is ltd to send letters now. Isn’t this war awful, Dot! Everything is going up in price, now the war is on. 1 wish it was over. What a great day it will he when peace is declared. My brother and sister are away out in a motor car to sing at a concert at Clenham. Last month I took part in a tableau, “ Britannia," and it was very good. I represented Canada-, and I was first to come on to the stage and make a speech to ‘‘ Britannia,” and I was very nervous. I am taking shorthand lessons now, and likeit very much. I have three exercises to do for Friday, so I think I will bring this letter to a close. Kind regards to Bravest of the Brave, Inveresk, Queen of the Lilies, and all the D.L.F., not forgetting yourself.— Yours truly, WHITE WINGS 11. [I be delighted to receive the photograph, White Wings 11, as than I shall see if my impression of yorf corresponds to the one supplied by the portrait. Do not be alarmed that it will appear. —DOT.] Dear Dot, —Having a bad headache, I did not go to school to-day. We have three pet lambs, and two of them are mine. Could you give me names lor my two? It is very dry up here. ■ Some of the people arc carting water. I sometimes go to Dunedin for my holidays, and the weather seems much cooler there than in Timaru. While 1 was in Dunedin last Christmas I met a school mate of mine. I did not know what part of Dunedin she lived in. It seemed so funny, Dot, that she happened to be living near where I was staying. Grandfather gave me 18 penny stamps to get a badge, so I am sending them in this letter to-day. I hope I will get the badge all right. Love to Charity and yourself. — Yours truly, CHIDDY (Tycho). [I have posted your badge, dear, and trust it reaches you safely. The only pot lamb I ever possessed was called Tilly, though 1 had not the naming of it—still its brevity recommends it. The same applies to Janie, if you care for it.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —May I join your happy band ? I am 10 years old, and am in the Third Standard at school. I have one sister, hut no brothers. My sister is seven years of age, and is in the Third Class. We have two miles to walk to school. We are having lovely spring weather just now, and I have just planted some sweet peas in my garden. We have a pretty wee black puppy, and he is always getting into mischief. Could you give ms a name for him? Wc have a white pusSy-cat, and we call her Topsy. We also have a white pony; her name is Biddy. We have a white calf, and we call him Donny. We also have a white lamb, but we haven’t got a name for him yet. Could you give me a name for him ? Isn’t this a terrible war which is raging just now! I have a cousin at the- front. Love to a.l the D.L.F. and yourself.—Yours truly, LADY NANCY LEE (Waikaka). [The most apparent name would bo Snowy for the lamb, and you could call the puppy Pluto if you wished. I am happy to number you among my L.F.—DOT.] AUTOS. Mountain Lily (Essie Clingin, Glenorchy) wishes to correspond with Postman Henry, E.S.H., and any ether L.F. willing. Lupulite (C. J. Barnett, Slope Point, via Fortrose) wishes to exchange autos with Black Pansy, .Robert’s Watch, Mihi Moana, Pickwick, Owl, Guy, Faithful Fido, and any D.L.F. willing.