D.L.F. Old Writers’ Week.

Otago Witness, Issue 3590, 2 January 1923, Page 63

D.L.F. Old Writers’ Week.

Once more the wheels of time have moved round to Christmas and New Year, both week 3 which from this time forth are dedicated to Old Writers. It is the season of good cheer, kind thought, and family reunions, and it is meet that the founders of the D.L.F. Page should foregather to renew old memories and pass on a kindly message to old friends to carry them on for another year. I have no doubt that as soon as it becomes generally known that the Christmas and New Year issues of the Witness are reserved for the Old Writers, the movement will grow and many old friends whose names have been missing, perhaps largely through the varying dates of Old Writers’ Week, will find the call to communicate through the medium of the Page with memories and persons of childhood's days irresistible. In the stress and bustle of life it is a relaxation to look back on the care-free, halcyon days of childhood, the friends wuo counted so much in our daily life, and an hour will be gladly spent recalling old pleasures and recounting the varying changes. j To any reader of the L.F. Page it will be evident how the young folk revel in Old Writers’ Week, and if each one contributed his or her quota the paper would contain eome of the finest reading to be obtained anywhere. Think of it for a moment—there would be the tale of stirring adventure, the placid, homely letter of those whose lives are spent in home-building, and, above all, the heartfelt wish of happiness for each and everyone for the coming year. Who knows what the coming year holds for us? And what more could one desiie than to tell the joys and sorrows of that time to sympathetic and kindly eyes. I thank all those who have contributed this year, and trust we may all meet again next Christmas, and may there be many Old Writers who have overlooked the date of reunion. In conclusion, I wish all Old j Writers and the L.F. the best that Fortune can shower on them and a happy -Christmas in the true sense of the word. DOT. Appended is the list of members who have ’ contributed to this year’s Old Writers’ Week. : The names and letters appear in the order they were received:

OLD WRITERS’ LETTERS. Dear Dot, —Another milestone passed, and here is O.W.W. time come again. I think we had a very successful reunion last year, although some of our Teal old and muchadmired writers were missing. So Black Watch came to light after all. I was so pleased to see his letter, and also Little Lady’s. I think I used to go to school with 1 her in Dunedin at the George Street School. I Last Christmas, when the letters appeared 1 in print, I was very ill, but have got over 1 it all long ago. I have just had a visit from Lady Benussi. She was here one week, and how we did talk over lots of things, as ! we had not met for three years. I did enjoy her company, and we had several out- I ings, drives, etc., and some snapshots taken. ■ I journeyed back with her to Invercargill to visit a dentist,' and have since left some J teeth as mementoes with him. As usual I 1 got over that ordeal safely. Ivanhoe met ! L.B. at the station, and we all journeyed up - to our destinations for tea. We dropped ‘ Ivanhoe and Lady Benussi at their place, ' and motored on to my friends. My little girl did enjoy the train and motor trip, but didn’t like the tram cars at all. I staved two days and came home again. One of my . neighbours is an L.F. —Frolic, —and I see her ! very often. She is very fond of horses, and takes us a drive occasionally. We had a lovely one two Sundays ago, right round the I block ever so many miles. The horse does j spank along, and we did enjoy it. It is polling day to-morrow, so there will be some ; excitement in the township. We hope pro- i hibition wins the day, but the votes will i tell. I have left this letter a little late, ! but hope it will be in time. My flowers are ; very slow in growing this year. I was hoping to have a nice array before Christmas, j Gardening is a hobby of mine, and 1 6pend many evenings in it. Well, Dot, I really think I must close now, so with best wishes to one and all for the coming season from— i Yours truly, ; THE SHEPHERDESS’S FAIRY. j [I am delighted to know you have made such an excellent reoovery, The Shepherd- i ess’s Fairy, and trust you will enjo-y many years of perfect health. It is a wonderful I blessing, and I think few of us realise its worth until we have experienced an illness— ! DOT.] _ ' | Dear Dot, —First of all I must wish one j and all a happy Christmas and a bright ’ and prosperous New Year. Secondly I must I apologise for the non-appearance of my letters in the corner for such a considerable time. I noticed that A Lasie from Scotland was greatly concerned about it too. Well, I ajn too old to write for a start, and time has been so precious that I had to cancel many of my correspodents, much to my sorrow. I am spending all my spare time just now

training for the Christmas and New Year sports. I expect to be running at Kaitangata. Ciinton, Port Molyneux, Lovell's Flat, and perhaps Gore. The weather down this way has been very dismal and wot for some time past, but is showing signs of clearingup, and not b-efore time, as quite a number of farmers are waiting to put in their turnips. Some time ago I received a very nice letter and photo from a D.L.F. in London, A Distant Friend. I hope ehe received my letter safely. I am to have my first vote to-morrow. The political part has not caused so much discussion as the prohibition question. How many of the D.L.F. are going to the B.C. Conference at Gore? I think it an ideal way of spending the holidays. You will have a great -draw on y-oux space for the O.W.’s Week, so I will close now with best wishes and kind regards to Ploughman, A Distant Friend, Tommie’s Girlie, and Billie’s Sweetheart, Ladybird, Colleen Rhu, and Dai:: 3' Fern.—Yours truly, Y.M.C.A. SPORT. [I hope you have a very successful running season, Y.MJ.C.A. Sport, and we shall look to see your name in the list of successful entrants. —DOT.] Dear Dot and Comrades, —It has suddenly dawned on me that the O.W. letters have to reach you within the next day or two, and if I do not write at once I will miss the opportunity, as I have done several times. I was out home for a few days. I cannot say it was a holiday, as the stay was so brief. 1 had to cram the days as full as 1 could. I thought I had a let of news, but it has nearly all flown away as I start to write. There have been distinct changes in my own old home circle the last year or so. In the first pl-ace I have been married, and now live in the Western district, and IS months later my brother followed suit; but be has only gone across the road from the old home, and is half his time ateach place. But it is a red letter day when I go home. Enough of home affairs: I will tell you what I think of this district, and, to start with, I must tell you that I have come off a farm, and am settled on another one out here. The land is much the same as other places, and varies likewise, but we get more frost here, and when it is hot we - —have not had much heat this year yet—the days are very hot and tile nights are chilly —generally cold. We have a plot of vegetables, ,and I think there will be green peas and new potatoes for Christmas. I have cook-ed several cabbages, and have been making lettuce sal-ads for -about five or six weeks. I wonder where my correspondents -are now? Once upon a time I used to write to 20 ox 30 L.F., and now they are down to four of five. 1 have met two Old .Writers since I have come down here. I wonder where Waipnpukaka, Star Rose, Sleepy Wee Daisy, Princess E-dna, and A Country Maid are now. Any letters addresed to me at the old address will be forwarded on. Now dear Dot, I will have to draw- this to a close and leave space for abler pens than mine. Hoping you have a very successful reunion of O.W.’s and wishing you and all comrades the compliments of the season.—Yours truly, FROLIC. [Though perhaps -late, our congratulations and good wishes for the best in life are none the less sincere, Frolic.—DOT.] Dear Dot and Old Writers, —Is it because we are growing old that the days literally fly, or (much nicer thought; is .it because we are not bored with life ? I have left it so late that I will just send greetings and good wishes for the success of this reunion. After dear old Black Watch’s flattering remarks I couldn’t desert him. Funny how we always remember the nice things people say of us—even after 12 months. “The oldest and noblest profession in the world’’ till interests me keenly-, though I am afraid, compared with some, I only- play at it. Kind remembrances, dear Dot and Old Writers. — Yours truly, LITTLE LADY. [Your letter is short, Little Lady, and leaves us longing for more—the true gift of letter-writing-, I will admit; but please let it be longer next time.—DOT.] Dear Dot and Comrades, —In spite of good resolutions to write early I find that I am almost too late to be included in the annual handclasp. Last year illness prevented my writing, but my thoughts were with you all the same. The year has flown away, and it seems so little time since then. We are still in the same place, and to us whose lot is cast in quiet places the year lias brought few changes. A tiny visitor arrived at our house four months ago, and is now quite a rounded, rosy, noisy little girl, and the life of us all. Even big brother, at the important age of five, allows the tiny queen to pull his hair—a happening which would be vigorously resented if anyone else was the culprit. So now, Dot,. I have a son and daughter, and _am beginning to feel quite a grown-up member of the community.* Today; is election day, and there will be much excitement everywhere. We are going down to vote shortly, sc- I was anxious to get this written to take to the post. I am lipping l , to see prohibition carried this time, but it’s ha-r-d to s-ay how things will go —personally-, it will make no difference, but when one has a little chap growing up it would be splendid to ■ know that at- least one temptation was quite gone. We have had quite a lot of rain, with flashes of leal summer in between the cola days. With the result that the garden has come along splendidly. We will liave plenty of peas, beans, and potatoes for Christmas, and have had salads, cabbages, and turnips this last fortnight. Howone does enjoy the fresh vegetables again. Our strawberries are just loaded, and axe beginning to ripen, but the small birds are a dreadful nuisance. We will have to cover them all, or Mr Thrush and Mr Blackbird will get the lion’s share. We have just bought a new car, and are having great fun learning to drive it. I am thankful to sa-y we are still all alive, and none the worse. When my hubby reads this he will be thinking I am not very complimentary to him. W e are looking forward to some good trips during the nice weather, especially alter the hot, trying days, a breath of fresh air will be glorious. And, my word, Dot, it does boil here. We are only a few miles from Roxburgh, and, being inland, get some real heat. That’s the time one thinks of the briny, and the pleasures of a dip. But, alas! no such thing can be got. We are lucky, though, in having plenty of trees, and take our meals in the open air whenever we can. We see Possum quite frequently. She and her husband often drive up on a (Sunday or a holiday. I seem to have lost track

-of all my old D.L.F. friends. I apologise to Nancy Bell for not answering your letter before this, but some of these days you will get a line. We are hoping to be up your way before long, but it will be after the holidays, as I cannot get away then. And now, dear Dot, you will please ecuse this scrappy note. A mother’s leisure

moments are few and far between, and I must away and get the wee ones ready to go out, and make an early tea. But I did so want to be present, at the annual reunion. With the compliments of the season to you, Dot, and all writers, both past and present. —Yours trulv, DEWDROP [Perhaps you will say I can only very inadequately understand a mother’s feeling, Dewdrop, but I hold that redemption X 3 not to be obtained by removing temptation, but it is- only by meeting it and resistingit that the character can be ennobled. — DOT. Dear Dot, —As this is my first letter as an 0.W., 1 am just sending a few lines to wish you all luck at the 1922 rally. Time does seem to fly, as it seems no time since last Christmas, and here we are nearly in Christmas again. Since I wrote my retiring letter I have started dancing. 1 was veryshy at first, but I soon g-ot over that, and now you can hardly' keep me away from a dance. There is not much news about here—the same round of births, deaths, and marriages. In the last, dear Dot, I will be following shortly myself, as I am engaged to be married. This is where the joke comes in, Dot. I was always going to be an old maid: so- I was, up to a month ago, when one day 1 suddenly- changed my mind, so 1 will have to give up the old maid idea. My boy wants me to be married at once, so he can get settled down, but the date has not been definitely fixed. Wishing, you, dear Dot, old and young writers, a merry Christmas and a happy and prosperous New Year. Yours truly, PRINCESS VANADA. [I will not be offended by any means, Princess Vanada; on the contrary, I will be cliarm-ed to be remembered at such a time. If even 1 do not know the exact date I can assure you of my sincere and best wishes for a fine day, successful function, and every happiness in the new life.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —May you have a real good muster of Old Writers! It gives me great pleasure to be with you again. You will never realise the pleasure the D.L.P. page gave me as a child. It was like the company of children, and the next best thing- to knowing them personally. In after years, in my travels, I met a few of the y-oung writers—namely-, Valley Violet, sweet and modest as a little violet; A Russian Princess, a very shy- little girl who travelled in the same railway carriage with me; slie was a sister of a very well-known Old Writer, Maid of Athens. I first met Valley Violet in a train. They both wore badges, and I was so pleased, us 1 had never met anyone wearing the badge before. Another time, at a hotel 1 was staying at, I met a writer who was -on her honeymoon. Her nom de plume was Cook of Our House. We were staying in Dunedin, and by the Witness saw the D.L.F. were going next day to Oamaru for picnic. Cook of Our House and myself thought we would like to go. We did not know any of the Little Folk, so. we got up early in the morning and hurried to the station to watch for badges. Alas! they never came. We found out later that they had left by boat, and our disappointment was keen. I still have the first letter I wrote to the page. I wrote, under the nom de pdume of Adele. The letter was about -two dear little boys, nick-named Tod v and. Budge, and my sister Ellen’s babies. How proud I was of that printed letter! I read it over and over again, also the nice little answer from Dot say-ing lie would like their photos for the page, and lie hoped they would be taken watching the wreels go round. How time flies! The boys have both done well, and they- are both married, although very young, little more than children. They are just as dear to me now as they were when I wrote that letter. Now i will try and make this more interesting by telling you about two trips I had to a beautiful place called Wliangarei. We left Lyttelton Wednesday evening and arrived in Wellington Thursday morning. From there we went to Wanganui for a few days, then'" back to Marion and oil to Auckland. My brother met us and motored us home to his place for dinner. Ten p.m. we sailed by the Mania for Wliangarei. We had a nice calm trip, and arrived at Onerahi about 5 a..m. Onerahi is the port, the train leaves at 6.40 a.m. for Wliangarei, and takes about 20 minutes to get there. From Wliangarei we drove about four miles along a -beautiful road, up hill and d-own dale most of the wav.’ Sometimes past native bush and beautiful tree ferns out to til© Abbey, where we arrived in time for breakfast. The Abbey is off the road down a gully. It is sheltered by puriri trees, the larget trees I have ever seen, being a chain and a-lialf from extreme end of branch to extreme end .of branch. They have plants growing on the tops of them, quite a native garden growing among the branches. One tree I used to enjoy riding the branches with my- young 'ablatives, and called them our horses. Those branches, what good rides they- gave us! They- would spring rig-ht up in the air with us, up and down we would go. I will always enjoy that sort of thing, because I am small and, like Peter Pau, will never grow up, not if I live to be 100. The Abbey caves were only three minutes’ walk from the house. They are most wonderful caves. We wore old clothes and took candles to explore them. It is necessary to have a guide. One cave took us most of the af ternoo-n to explore, that was the Organ cave. About half way through the cave the stalactites liad formed just like the pipes of an organ, and if y-ou strike them they sound like an organ. Above the organ is a large snow-white open book, but y-ou can only see the book by- flashlight. The flashlight makes everything look very beautiful and sparkling. Besides the Organ, there is the Bell Cave, the Ivy Cave, the Crystal Cave, the Honeycomb Cave, the Smugglers’ Cave, etc. Some parts of the caves are very dangerous; had we lost out footing we would have disappeared into dark-looking water, and never have been heard of again. Owing to heavy rain a very- long ladder had been swept- away-, and there were no signs of it anywhere, so we had to have, another in its place at the outlet of the Organ Cave. We blew the candles out at times so that we could see the glow-worms. The Abbey was the most wonderful place I have ever seen. Like the caves, the limestone rocks were about three minutes’ walk from the house. They were so large, masives, queer, and fantastic in shape. I was afraid to go near them (alone—really afraid, although with company I just loved to explore them. The rocks had once been a Maori fort. Even the brightest day I would not venture near them alone. Near the rocks were two neatlyfenced graves. Once a year they were visited by a young lady, who placed flowers on them. I did not know the history of them, as my relatives had not long owned the Abbey. There were stairs outside leading to a balcony just out of my bedroom window, and it made me a little nervous of a night. At night you could not imagine a more lonesome place with its underground caves, ghostly rocks, and the two graves not more than three minutes’ walk from my window-. We had a lovely flower garden, -and pretty flowers had been planted on crevices of the rocks. Not the large rock garden, that' was left in its natural state. Among the fruits in the orchard were oranges, lemons, figs, etc. The place was over-run with black-

berries. There was also a mineral spring not far from the Abbey, with coda water just like you buy bottled in shops. It was nice to drink. I must not forget the beautiful native bush with a lovely creek running through it. We found lots of gum from the tall kauri trees. The nikau palms were very handsome. The return home was most interesting, as we had daylight most of the way. We had a lovely calm trip, and the 6cenery was lively leaving Onerahi. We passed the Lion Rock, Castle Rock, Hen and Chicken Islands, the two Barriers, and bail Rock. * Sail Rock was out in the ocean, and looked just like a big iceberg. We saw porpoise, large jellyfish, and numerous other inhabitants of the deep. The daylight trip, I am sorry to say, is now cut out, or it was last Raster, as we went and returned by night, to our great disappointment. I must leave the second trip till another time, as this letter is already too long. The second trip was to different surroundings, as my relatives have left the Abbey, and aie much nearer town. They are now in a lovely place surrounded by tropical plants. Their home has the river frontage, with magnificent views from all the windows. I told you last time about an accident to my husband. The West Coast trip did us both good, and he has quite recovered. I hope he will remain so, but such a bad accident might have bad effects any time. Now, dear Cot and Old Writers, 1 must wish you the best of wishes for Christmas and the coming year. Yours truly, BRYN AFON. P.S.—I hope to see a letter from The 'Helmsman. Coes he still drink black billy tea by the smoke of the camp fire? [Unfortunately The Helmsman has not sent in a letter this time. I am sure he does not realise how much his letters are missed, but no doubt, perhaps, we would not be so clamorous if we knew the reason. I hope he will be present next year. Many thanks for your fascinating, description of your trip. I sincerely hope your husband suffers no further effects from his accident. — DOT.] Dear Dot, —On this auspicious occasion (the great reunion of the D.L.F. of “ancient history’’) I feel I must really send a few lines, just in case my old friends tiling I have gone “West.” Well, since I last contributed to our immortal page I have, firstly, got married; and, secondly, have a daughter of five years of age (Alice by name). My husband (once a R.N.R. officer) is now an engineer on a cargo ship, and I am expecting him over here shortly. I have been absent from New Zealand for many years in Britain, and am to be found usually in Condon, but my husband being at sea I trip about a good deal. The girlie and I are expecting her father here soon, in timie for Christmas, we hope. I find New Zealand vastly improved since I last saw it, and still admire its beautiful scenery. But the Homeland is lovely too, as those of you who have seen it no doubt remember. I guess those of you who remember the Huia of the D.L.F. of the old IPiot’s time would hardly know her as a staid (save the mark!) old married woman. Oh, well, she’s just your old friend, nevertheless. I see the younger geheration of our old page are doing well; their letters are most interesting, and 1 often read out their letters to my girlie. She will be a Dot’s Little F'olk one day, I hope, but it will be after we return to England. We who do not take in the Otago Witness regularly manage to get a glimpse of it by going to the High Commissioner’s office in the Strand. Well, deajr Dot and old friends, you, I know, will excuse the briefness .of this letter, for it is so many years since I last wrote to our page I have rather got out of practice. Wishing you all( both old and new contributes) the merriest of Christmas and health, wealth, and happiness in the New Tear. —Yours truly, HUIA. P.S. —My nom de plume was Huia, and I was a writer to the page in the first Dot’s time. [I trust, now that the date of O.W.W. is fixed for the Christmas and New Year issues, you will bear it in mind, Huia, and send us a line each year. We want all our real Old Writers to be present. We shall warmly welcome your little daughter when 'she writes. —DOT.] Dear Dot, —You will be surprised to see that it is Rangi who is writing. I saw the Otago Witness the other day, and, of course looked up the D.L.F. page, and what did I see? There was to be a reunion of Old hoik, so that was quite enough for me. I often think of the fun, and how I used to wait for the mail to see my letter in the Witness and the letters from the girls. Sun Kiss is the only one that writes to me now. The others, perhaps, had written and the letters have not been sent on. When we left our old home at Waikaremoana we went on to Wellington, and there I was taken to a private hospital. I was there for six months with the effects of the “flu.” We afterwards came on up Napier way, and are now living at Hastings. Are there any D.L.F. in Hastings, Dot? Do any of the members write about the wild flowers and birds? How it nsed to interest the L.F. when I wrote about them. I will go to the Library to see the old D.L.F. letters, as we do not get the Witness now. To-day it is very lively with plenty of motor cars passing, as it is election day. I am going to town to-night to see the fun—the streets will be crowded. The weather here has been lovely, and the fruit is coming on nicely; but, oh, grass is burning up! The other day we had rain; it was just the thing for the country; but, Teally, the farmers say it was not enough. I suppose you have been to some of the political meetings? I have been to six, and I did enjoy them.. Well, Dot, I had better stop and not take up too much of your precious page, as I know there will be crowds of letters just now. With much love to all my old friends, Sun Kiss, Bonette, Clyde, Montrose Lassie, and Tangles Wonnie. —Yours truly, RANGI. [Large numbers of the L.F. are interested in the native flowers and birds, but we need another Rangi to describe them. —DOT.] Dear Dot, —I dare say you have forgotten there is such a writer as Theresa belonging to the page. Seeing it is Old Writers’ Week I suppose I'd better make myself known and write a long letter. I think a lot of my correspondents have forgotten that I am alive. I haven’t had a line from any of the L.F. If I don’t hear from any of miy correspondents before Christmas I wish them all a very merry Christmas and a bright New Year, not forgetting your own dear self, Doti I am so glad the time has come for Old Writers’ Week, and I hope to see all Old Writers’ letters in print. It is up to all of us''to write once a year, and I shall make a rush for the Witness next week. It is lovely to have L.F. corresponding from Scotland, and is nicer still to be able to write to them and hear all the news that’s going on over there. Although Mickey, lives in the same town as I do, I don’t see much of her, and meetings are few and far between, and she keeps very silent. lam going’ to see a big picture called “Heliotiope to-night. It lias been advertised fo-r some months, so it must be a good picture. Dear Dot, as there ia not much exciting news

in Dargaville I will have to bring my letter to a dose. Love to all D.L.F., not forgetting your own dear self. —Yours truly, THERESA (Dargaville).

Dear Dot, —Once again the time has come round for us to pen those familiar words. Each year always brings changes into one’s life. Well, it will soon be a year since i came to live up here. We are 26 miles from Maheno, so in the summer time we usually go home every other Sunday. It is a good long drive, but we have a good-going horse, and if sometimes our time is short we like to go home. I miss the bustling, active life I used to have, as my life was just one bustle. Now it is just the opposite, my usual round, and although I still have my bike I don’t very often use it. At New Year time we had a week at Naseby. We went Dunedin way and by train to Ranfurly, so it was all new country to me. I enjoyed it very much. The next time we go we are planning to drive through the pass. I would enjoy that. This is election day, and as hubby is assisting I am on my own, and am having a letter-writing day. I hope to see a good muster of old friends amongst us this year. I suppose Elmo Athol will, as usual, be too busy to write again this year. Red Wings drove mother up to see us one day. It came on to rain so hard just as they were leaving. However, they waited, and it cleared, and they got home dry. A friend and I driving down were less fortunate, as it came on to rain when we left home, and poured all the time until we readier here. We were just beginning to get damp. However, hubby had a lovely fire on and some tea ready, so that soon made up for any unpleasantness. We have a nice vegetable garden here this year, and one does appreciate the benefit of it, especially as we had nothing at all last year. I also have a nice collection of sweet peas coming out. We have two cows, and they are milking very well. Between both mothers giving us hens we have np to 18 hens. I have two lots of chickens out, one clutch of 11 and the other 12. We have been having nice rains lately, and everything is looking nice and green. There seems every prospect of good crops again this year. There is aoundance of feed coming on. The school concert was held here last Friday night, and we went along to it, and it was very good. It was awfully hot this morning: one was wondering what to get cool to wear, and now in the afternoon it has turned very cold. What a good thing tile war in the Near East didn’t come to anything. It was looking very serious for a while, wasn’t it? I think now, dear Dot, I have come to the end of my news. I thank you very much for your good wishes to me. I will close, wishing Dot and all the D.L.F. past and present a merry Christmas and bright and happy New Year.— Yours truly, INQUISITIVE POLL. [One misses the bustle for a time, Inquisitive Poll, but one soon settles down to a quiet life.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —As O.W.W. has come round again I thought I would send you along a lme or two. Old D.L.F’. are always asking why I never write. It is 20 years since I wrote my last letter to Dot. Old comrades have scattered since then. IVe never thought in those days that our children would be writing to Dot and to each other. C. J B D. gets letters asking her if her father used to write to the Witness.. It is surprising the number of old D.L.F. that have photos of the old days. Of all 'the photos and autos 1 had only one is left. I suppose Black Watch will have a letter in as usual I never see any letters from the old hands at Palmerston. They were great writers years ago. I like reading Helmsman’s letters from the other side. I like the letters from other countries best. I did a good bit of travelling years ago myself, through England, Canada, ITjS ! .A., Australia, besides being 1 over a good bit of New Zealand. I always read the O.W.W. to see if Guilia, The Duke’s Amuser, Flora, and Aora have wakened np, but they seem to have gone to sleep properly. There used to be some writers from the Waimate district years ago, but I have been here a good few years now and have never met any of them- There >as been some very interesting reading in the Witness lately from G. Hassing and a few more old hands of the gold mining days. I read everything I can get hold of about the early days. It i 3 a wonder they do not put their writings up in book form. I have the book of the Early Doctors of Otago, and always turn to it when I cannot find anything else to read. I do not know how many times I have read it now. I hope you have a good roll up of the O.W. this time. I hope to see letters from Harry, Phil, E. O. A., Jessica, Ophir, and all the old friends that used to meet at the Dunedin Shows twice a year. If you get stuck for room you can put this in the waste paper box.—Yours trUl? ’ CAPTAIN JACKSON BARRY. [We are so delighted to hear from you, Captain Barry. There is no likelihood of your letter suffering the fate you mention. Like you, I wish others of the real old hands would send i na line.—DOT.] Dear Dot and Comrades, —I have just been reading a Witness, and see by it that OW W is being held at Christmas. As it is' some time since I put in an appearance I decided I would pen you a few lines. When one has a home of ones own, between one thing and another one doesn t get miuch spare time. I have been very busy in the garden this year, and, luckily, the weather has been ideal for it. We have had such a lot of nice showers, which is something out of the usual for these parts for this time of the year. There is such a lot of white clover up here this year, and nearly all o>ur neighbours have some shut up. Ihere is an abundance of feed, and the crops are looking very well. We shall soon have Christmas with us now. Last Christmas 13 a y motored to tbe Rakaia> Lorge, and had a family picnic there. We left here at 7 o’clock and arrived at the Gorge at 11 o’clock, and after spending a very jolly day we left for home at 5 o’clock, and arrived here at 9. The trip is really well worth going, as the scenery is beautiful, especially when’ one gets into the Gorge. We also went up through the Gorge one day to Darfield, and came home via Ashburton and Rakaia. We also intend to go np to Lake Coleridge some day, but one really wants a whole day up there to have a good look around. With the continual nor’-westera the trees have a decided lean one way, and are all growing away from the wind. I get a fair 3hare of teasing about Southland, but give me Southland any day sooner than a nor’-wester. We get a lot of them here at a certain time of the year, and I think there is nothing more depressing or trying. 1 suppose every climate has its disadvantages. Well, Dot, I think I will close and leave room for an abler pen than mine, I hope there will 135. a good muster of Old Writers this year, arid am quite looking forward to seeing letters from scale of my old correspondents. Love to all the Little Folk, not forgetting your own dear self. —Yours truly, OH! CHRISTINA. [I hope you have many enjoyable trips this year, Oh! Christina. There are some very fine motor runs about ycur part of the world. —DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Now the inhabitants of Ink Land hold a festival once a year, wherein, as in King Arthur’s Court of old, each brings his greetings for sovereign and companions, and tells his tale. And his is the tale I, Pat, a most loyal subject of your majesty’s, bring with my greetings:—Now in the beginning of the year Pat did gather together a quite unnecessary amount of baggage and set sail for other lands. And now we see Pat, scrappily dressed, clutching frantically a strawberry box ’in one hand, holding forlornly to the ship’s corridor with the other, on her way to interview a bath that seemed to get up and walk away every time she took courage to put down her strawberry bo and tried to climb in. (Into the bath —not the strawberry box.) We discover her one sunny 'morning admiring the views °f “our ’arbour,” and being asked her opinion so often as to sympathise with the drunken sailor found in a church porch. When they tried to rouse him he said, “Oh, leave me alone—l’ve seen it before.” Yes, Sydney is indeed proud of her harbour. When we arrived it i was show time, race time, and l Piaster Carnival time; but my two girl companions and I settled in a flat and commenced to enjoy Sydney and its manifold attractions. The first night we were all nervous so as one bed was a double one we decided to all camp in that. Well, Dot, we simply wouldn’t fit in the proper way, so we decided to try side ways. This left our feet hanging over the edge, so wo did “Dinna, ctinna, dinah, doe” to see who should get np and put all our slippers on The result was charming, three different coloured boudoir caps one end, and three different ensured pairs of slippers the other. The month that followed slipped away all too quickly. We had numerous letters of introductions, and were entertained right royally .saw all the beaches, plays, heard Madam Melba, and the most famous violinist of the day, and so on. Fro-m there we travelled to Melbourne, and here had an equally good time—heard the Sistine Choir and saw all the latest play 3. Some of their I alais de Dans are magnificent, and one very beautiful one ha 3 a balcony overlooking the sea and the myriad lights of the harbour. The music is glorious, and the decorations take your breath away. In Melbourne the party broke np, and I decided to earn my daily bread for a while. Office positions were scarce, as were most other betterclass vacancies, so I decided to be Mary Ann. Oh, dear! Dot, it was a joke. The house was a big one, beautifully furnished and very stylish. The first night the jam roly poly emerged, all jam, but little roly poly. A week later I blew myself and the hot water geyser out of the bathroom, and once I simply couldn’t make any impression on the pie-crust. From there I went to Dallarat to rejoin my chum, and we had a very good holiday visiting Ballarat’s beauty spots. Morn there back to Melbourne and on to Sydney, and from there to Brisbane, taking nearly a week’s train journey for the trip. After a very good holiday in Brisbane I came on up to Mackay as governess to two girls It iqs a night and half a day from Brisbane to Rockhampton, and here you pause for two or three hours, so I got out to see the sights They were worth lx .- - Lll e trams alone were worth a visit. I had a ride in one, and you go at a good walking pace when the going is good, Otherwise it’s a gentle amble. Every now and then you stop, and the stoker getaout and rakes out all the coals ad cinders and leaves them lying on the roadside. Then no? iw Ve -°"u a S aln ‘ the train came out that night the engine driver leaned out of ins cab and rang a big cowbell continuously as we crawled through the town—and so we left Rockhampton. Mackay was reached next morning, and I spent the day viewing the town and being viewed. Next morning I arose in time to catch a trafn fu VG at 5 ' 30 ’ and whic h finally left at 6.30, the newspaper boy having overslent br °^ h ,V he P^ eTßalong for several hours—m nearly four hours aeoampUlniig 17 miles «° less! The train draw W times for every station before it got there, when it got there and after it passed there. The guard l used to collect letters, deliver newspapers, do the shunting and tell ail the new? to any stray that happened to bo about! hoarded a coach and drove nearly •i K, - ml e ?' one of the changes they put is a mule and the coachman used to 7 wind one of those cheap musical instruments whereupon Jenny would go her her life, once nearly upsetting the coach. We arrived i? a small town after 8 p.m. At dinner T m.t to thfT < I W T r Wh ° me to go to the local dance. I went. It was the most severe test of politeness I have vet encountered. All the babies and dogs wem asleep under Hie benches. Those few that could not be disposed of in that fashion were in the arms of the various grandmothers who were engaged in a mighty gossip ?t one end of the room. As luck would ha?e it we came m between the dances and the silence that fell was absolute. One minute later everyone could have told you ev“ £ colour of my shoe laces. It warmest em barrassing meeting the gaze of so many eX But the dances! Oh, dear! they went out before my mother began to learn, and s? I watched mostly. Supper time they brought round a big box of cups and saucers, and you took your pick. The whole affair was roost amusing. Next day my host came for me in his car, and I completed the last 35 miles of my journey. And here I am, with no space to tell you of further adventuresfhanto ’ COckroac , he3 > s pi<lers, snakes, and all the creepy-crawly things that dwell here also. Yesterday it was UOdeg in the shade, so it is a limp Pat that concludes with her greetings to you all.—Yours truly PAT * II think Pat, you should turn to account your delightful gift of letter-writing. Your letter was like a tonic, and I smiled for hours after reading it. Do keep an account of your doings and let ns have them tor next Christmas please.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—Again a chance visit to Auckland, and a look at the Otago Witness in the Public Library there have reminded mo that Old Writers’ Week has come again. I’m behind time, but I hope you will give me a corner just to say, “Hello!—How are yon?—Good-bye!” to old comrades, and a “Glad to meet you” to the new generation of Little Folk. How are you all, dear old friends? Well, happy, and prosperous, I hope. In the hurrying round of things do you ever think of our “dear Dot” days? What a lot has happened since! Daisy Primrose, Harry, Black Watch, and the rest of you dear friends of yesterday, greetings! I am still sub-editing. Every good wish to the page and all connected with it. May it long flourish.—Yours truly, 'FRA diavolo. [You will be interested to see a letter from Appi Taniwha, who is also a journalist, Fra Diavolo. —DOT.] ? Dear Dot, —Does my manna still hold good? or am I disqualified as the result of my sad lapse of memory 12 months ago ? I have not seen three Witnesses in as many years, and did not have the good fortune to see last year’s 0.W.W., therefore I am somewhai in the dark as to what was said and done; but I have heard that my suggestion to alter the time of the O.W. fixture to Christmas brought old comrade Black Watch down upon me at the “charge” and with

fixed bayonets! Of course, good old Black Watch, I yield to thee. Most certainly I was at fault in forgetting that O.W.W. had been made a memorial to our ever-loved editor and Dot of those delightful bygone days “when you and I were young,” Blackie. And I apologise unreservedly. But let me hasten to explain that while 1 had forgotten, and still forget (was it in early spring?), the date of that annual rally, I had not forgotten and never will forget our great leader. Nor is my suggestion a disloyal one; for it is better to remember his life with all its inspiration to our young lives than his passing, which plunged us into deep sorrow. We can with gladness remember his goodness to us at any time of the year, but more appropriately at Christmas time—the time of remembrance and goodwill among men. Therefore, Black Watch, having yielded in the first onslaught of your impetuous charge, I now repent me, and again throw down the glove. My final appeal is to our late Dot. Would he not have it so? Let me quote from his letter, Christmas, 1301: “No, it is not a bit too much, Boy, to set aside the issue before Christmas for the purpose you suggest (0.W.W.). Indeed, the old names which are unravelling themselves as I proceed had put the same idea into my mind, and I think the proposal will meet with universal satisfaction.—Dot.’’ Now yield Black Watch, for have I not the bead on you there? This delve into old files haa brought to light a curious coincidence. When I wrote to you last year with my suggestion. Dot, I had not the slightest notion that I had made a similar proposal just 17 years earlier. Dipping further into the past hisx ° r y of the page, I find that the first O.W.W. was Field at Laddie’s suggestion on August 23, 1900. What names it contained! Just to give a few: Con, Doughnut, 0.C.M., Dunedmite, Harry, Dicky Donovan, Laddie, Cuckoo, Jessica, Echo, Dockle-af, Wullie, Maisie, Shan, and Devonshire Dumpling. Indeed, the meeting was so memorable that Dot advised L.F. to carefully preserve that nurobsr for future reference. Just five years later Roby unfolded her copy and gave us a delightful reminiscence of that first gathering, and once again wise Dot suggested that ihis number be similarly preserved. Through having acted upon that suggestion I am to-day able to thus revel in the past history of our band and of Old Writers’ Week. At first the meetings were fixed haphazard. I Jihve come upon my own suggestion to hold them quarterly, and it was'not untn 1904 that they became an annual fixture Then came the parting from our beloved Dot in 1906, and again the date was changed out of respect to his memory. Since then the years have rolled by, and quite probably I am not the only writer who had lost touch, and, forgetting the date of the annual reunion, had dropped into oblivion. v\ ill any old-time comrade who may chance to scan these lines accept my kindliest greetnig; and to you, dear Dot, and all presentday D.L.F. I wish all happiness and enduring prosperity.—Yours truly, BOY. ~ L-lne editor and I took into consideration the points raised, Boy, and decided, after carefully weighing the pros and cons, that it was the best course to follow to have a fixed date. I wish I could get a list of the names and addresses of all the Old Writers of those days. * I could then circularise them, informing 'them that these two issues are a fixture for.O.W.M ~ and we might then have a meeting of meetings. —DOT.] Dear Dot,—l once again take the opportunity of writing to the page, but no longer a ,. k-8., . kut an O.W. I reached my twentieth birthday last September 9 and always intended to write my retiring letter, but kept putting it off until it was too late 1 hope to see a good collection of O W ’8 lt te Z/ hia yo °f' i 1 tho r ou S h ly enjoy reading Die letters, and always look forward to them. n °w W “ ti ?g I have been working at the Wanaka Hotel, and was here when the disastrous fire took place. I will be leaving n6xt „ T ek to =° home . and my next abode will be to Gore or Dunedin. I can hardly believe that Christmas is so near Brownie was home for a fortnight’s holiday, and as her sister, Stormy Petrel, works here she came and spent a few days, and we had jolly times together. There was great excitement here on Election Day, and an envelope dance in the evening, which was a great success Nearly £BO was collected in aid of funds for the new hall. During the evening there was also a bazaar. I was very unfortunate as regards prize-winning; but Stormy Petrel was fortunate, as she won a tea pot. Ihe prizes were numerous, useful, and some very attractive. One of the little boys here is thinking of writing to the page to-night, and I know he will be very excited when he sees it in print. As I can wnnk of no more news I will ring off, and if any of my correspondents see this in print I would like if they would drop me a few lines, as I have not heard from some of them for quite a long time. Love to ExceHior, Brownie, Lily of Cardrona, New Potato, The Prairie Girl, Humming Bird Sweet Blanche, Heather Bell, and the rest of my correspondents, not forgetting Sunset Echoes and Pinkie, Morning Star, Wilkins Lass, Grace Darling, Clementine, Road Hog, Ostrich Feather, and your own dear self Yours truly, JOSEPHINE. [I know the lady very well, though it is some years since I saw her. I thought I might see her when np that way, but the day we passed through was very wet. DOT.], _ Dot,—Just fancy, it is time for rr W iL° n “ morel How the days do slip by. The fact of it being time somehow slipped my memory, and if it hadn’t been for West Coaster reminding me of it last night I’m afraid I would have likely awakened to remembrance of it too late. Seeing neither West Coaster nor I have missed writing since we became Old Writers, I wouldn’t like to do so now. Last year, when the date was changed, one thought how convenient it would be, for one would always know when to write, and then to think how late I am at making a start. I suppose one’s thoughts have been taken up with other things lately. The elections have been the topic of the day and farm life too, is a busy one, there is always something to do. Tile fact is one never seems to catch up on what one would like done. We milk a good number of cows always, and we milk by hand. As long as one has sufficient hand's to do the milking, liand-milking is, from what one hears, really superior to the machines. But then many folk are compelled to use the machines because they cannot get suitable labour-, and it is cheaper than employing labour, anyway, which is a big consideration in these hard times. West Coaster and I have the feeding of the calves to do. Unlike many farmers, we here do not believe in what we call the slaughter of the innocents—that is, the killing of most of tbe calves. We rear them all, and in a couple of years’ time they come in for fattening what isn't required for other purposes. At present we have one of the smallest calves we’ve ever had. The mother is a well grown three-year-old heifer, and the calf is a very sturdy thick-set wee thing, but it is only 21in high on the shoulder, and 13 about 18in long from its shoulder to its tail. It is drizzling just now. The weather these last few weeks has been very changeable. There is one thing anyway that seem* to thrive and flourish exceedingly, and that is slugs. What annoying little pests they

%re, and how determined to get one’s plants! Water Lily and I wage war on them, but, as ehe says, they seem to bo as plentiful as ever. What havoc they do, but when one considers the numerous teeth they are credited with having one almost wonders that anything gets permission to live at all. Despite slugs, the flower garden looks really nice now. On the table here is a nice vase of foxgloves. Is it not a pity that anything so beautiful should have to be declared a noxious weed ? Such is the case, though. Many years ago a man living up a creek near here sent Home for the seeds of them. From there they’ve spread far and wide. One of our neighbours through whose paddocks that creek wends its way has great quantities of that lovely flower every y^ ar » trom the white ones and the rarer white with the dark spotted throat, through the lighter shades to the rich-looking dark ones all kinds are there. The flax bushes are flowering very, very freely this season, and the cabbage trees have many bunches of their heavy-scented blooms also. It is some years now since we’ve had a really proper rata year, a year when the hills are red with that most beautiful flower. Then, if the weather is suitable, how busily the bees do work from early morning until late at evening. For I don’t think there are many flowers that have the quantity of honey that has. So far this season hasn’t been favour able for the bees gathering Honey. We have about 50 hives now, fully half of them being this season’s swarms. Last year was one of the best years we have had for honey since I’ve worked amongst the bees, and that's a few years now. Well, Dot, seeing I have no particular news to tell, and your space is generally well filled, I must be stopping. We are hoping to see many letters for our week, and that it may be a_ really successful one. So with every good wish for the success of the page and wishing you and all L.F. comrades the compliments the season, I. sign myself once 'more —Yours trUly ’ BLUE VIOLET. [I am promising myself a poultry and bee farm in a few years, Blue Violet. When office work palls I dream of those things and hope to materialise it sooner or later. DOT.] Dear Dot, —The knowledge dawned on me suddenly last night, and it gave me rather a surprise to think that if I did not write to you immediately I would be too late to avail myself of the privilege given to old correspondents of the page. As it is, I have never yet failed to put in an appearance at the annual reunion of Old Writers since X reached retiring age. Last year I wrote from the Taieri Plains, but I have been back on the West Coast since the Ist of August. I was away just 10 months, over eight of which I spent in the Taieri. I was twice as far south as Invercargill—the first time in hot, dry, dusty February; then, again, in frosty June. I did find it cold in Southland then, so cold that for a number of days I never seemed to get thoroughly warm except when in Blanket Bay under an amazing pile of bed-clothes. I did not turn out too early in the mornings then, you may be sure. Altogether I had five weeks, in Southland, and I left my aunt at Gore very much improved in health to what she had been when I first went south. Each time when coming up to the Taieri again I spent some days at Kaitangata, and enjoyed them. I was in and out of Dunedin a number of times, but really did not get round much of the city, not nearly so much as I would like to have done. One really needed a friend well acquainted with the place to show one round. I was only once in the Gardens, and I don’t think I will ever forget the big bed of blue, white, and blue and white flag lilies that were in full bloom. They made a picture of loveliness. I would dearly have liked to have seen the roses at their best, but did not get a chance, alas! We cannot grow the really good kinds of roses here] our soil is not of a sufficiently clayey nature. When returning north and homeward bound I spent a day in Oamaru and a week-end at Kangiora. I had a splendid trip over from Christchurch. It was a beautifully clear, bright, sunshiny day, and when one got amongst the mountains the frost lay thick in all the shady spots. There were no great falls of snow on the high country last winter, so there was not much snow on the mountain peaks, but coming over the Otira Gorge the frost and ice were simply lovely. The way many of the wee streams were iced did look so pretty. Some of the passengers talked about how very cold it was, but I did not find it so. I enjoyed it all. So after an absence of 10 months I arrived back again into these "western wilds,” this terrible and awful district of bush and coalniines, and where the rainfall is measured by the yard.” I don’t how many people in Otago said to me when they heard I came from the West Coast, “Oh, the place where it rains.” Never mind, the Coast is not a dreadful place at all, and though undoubtedly it has drawbacks in some ways, it also has its compensations, and many would tell you our climate is superior to that of Otago in not a few ways. I had Blue Violet’s camera away with me all the time, and although on several occasions she would have liked to have had it herself, she was too much interested in the many exnosed films I sent home to her to develop* and print from to think of asking me to post it back to her. The results were fairly good on the whole, particularly seeing I had never tried my hand at taking snapshots before Anyway, quite a number of them have appeared in the illustrated pages of the Otago Witness. We were all considerably tickled here a couple of months ago when a snap Blue Violet took in our orchard here one day appeared in the Witness credited to her and named “A Farm Scene in the Taieri Plains.” Someone had blundered, but it really didn’t matter, as it was one of those scenes that might be taken anywhere. Blue Violet takes a very great interest in this hobby of hers, but what with gardening, bee-keeping, milking, and the hundred and one thing that have to be seen to about a farmhouse, her time for it is limited. Photography certainly runs away with plenty of time, as you may know yourself. Dot. Do you know that sometimes when I passed the Witness office I wondered if I were to call upstairs if I would find you in your office. I was once there six years ago. Now I wili close with love to you, Dot, and all old comrades, and wishing all D.L.F., both past and present, a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.—Yours truly, WEST COASTER. [I am at the office every day, West Coaster, bo you would in all probability have found me in. I should have liked to meet you. I am glad you did not miss this meeting. There are regular writers one looks for everv time.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —Well, here goes for a few lines, trusting this will - find Dot and all comrades well, as it leaves me at present. Now, Dot, I am behind time with my letter. I think it said in the Witness all letters must reach the office before December 8, and I am just writing mine to-day, 7th, but it is by mistake this time, Dot, so I do hope you will squeeze my letter in somewhere. We are very busy packing up, as we are leaving Orawia and going to town to live. I won’t be sorry either, as one does not see much life in the country. What sort of weather are you having in Dunedin? It is terribly •wet here for this time of the year, but we can’t growl, as we had a good" winter. Wo

have lost a boarder, the school teacher, and we do miss him terribly; but he is at another place not far away, so he often calls in when he is passing from school. I have not been very far away since I last wrote, but I am not kmg back fromi three months’ holiday. I was at Riverton seven weeks at the seaside for the good of my health. I must say I spent a very enjoyable time there. I just love the seaside life, arid would like to live there. I think it must have done me good, as I got quite fat while I was away. I often went for picnics round the beach and watched, all the fishing boats, going out. They looked simply lovely sailing along over all the big white waves, and from the distance one could hear the oil engine working, I used to wish I w T as in one. When the men were catching flounders they would just stay at the mouth of the. river and draw their fishing nets, and it is amusing to see all the funny little fish and crabs; they get all kinds, and it would' take one too long to mention them all. Fish that are too small are thrown back into the Sea again. Where they go floundering—if it is not too deep—two or three get out of the boat, and very often one can only see the tops of the fishermen’s__heads out of the. water, and there they stay for hovrs pulling in the nets. One man stays in the boat, and the engine, is stopped, and the boat is as if it is floating about in the water. When they get a fairly decent catch they set off for the nearest town, where the fish are sold to the fishmongers; hut one c-an get fish cheaper off the boats than at the fish shops. What amused me most of all was the big white birds called the seagulls. When the tide would be coming in these hard cases of birds would walk into the water till it got too deep for them, then they would begin . to float. They would go miles out to sea like that, and when each wave came they would just seem to me as if they were jumping over them. The tide washes many kinds of fish up which live in shells, and these seagulls get them in their beaks, fly away up in the air, then they let it drop. Down they come to see if the shell is broken, and there will be several birds waiting. But, strange to say, how cunning they are when a dray or cart goes along the beach: there is a bird following each wheel to see if there is any shellfish broken, and what a feed they have! There are such a lot of pretty shells, sponges, sea eggs, seaweed, etc., and also the kelp washed up. Men come with drays and cart this kelp away, which is sold and is used for packing up mutton birds. Now, Dot, I hope this will prove interesting to all. I also spend four weeks at a little place called the Bluff, where I saw many large steamers coming in and going out. Whenever a steamer was leaving the wharf a shrill whistle was blown. One day I went for a walk round the back beach, and I have never seen anything so lovely. The big waves were rising up about 50ft- and breaking into white foam, which would land up against the rocky faces. I was very sorry indeed when it was time to come home; but, of course, 1 had to give a hand, with the packing up. I also spent a short time in Invercargill, but I am net going to say too much. I could write pages, but I am a bit late, so I will have to cut it short. Since last writing my sister, Inky Bill, married another Old Writer. I don’t know if she is sending in a letter or not. I was at the Otautau Show last month, where I met my D.L.F. friend and her sister for the first time, her N.D.P. being One of Three. They were both very nice girls. It was not a very nice day, and the show was pretty stale. However, it was a day’s outing. Election day was yesterday, and I had my vote for the first time,. There was a country band contest held in Invercargill a few weeks ago, and my returned brother was one of the military judges. His photo appeared in the Witness. Well, dear Dot, I hope to see a lot of letters in from my old friends this time. I am sure I did not like to be missed, because I have always taken great interest in the page. I have been a member since I was about eight years old. I one of my brothers-in-law, also my wee nephew, both at the same time. Trouble seems to come all at once. Well, dear Dot and comrades, I must bid farewell to you all, wishing you a very happy Christ mas and New Year. Kindest regards and best wishes to One of Three, Meach, Daisy, Whitburgh Lass, Ruby Diamond, Inky Bill, Golden Fern, Golden Slipper, Red Wing, Marjory, Nurse Molly, Cousin Molly, Niece Molly, Clio, Princess Maritza, Lady Dell, Pukemaori Maid, Aniseed, Brereton, and dozens more I cannot think of just at pro sent.—Yours truly, _ LITTLE SEA BREEZE, [I am glad the change did yon so much good, Little Sea Breeze, and that you had such an enjoyable time. I am sincerely sorry to learn of the trouble your family has sustained.—DOT.] Dear Dot,—Greetings! May we have a bumper reunion. It seems no time since I first penned those two small words, but what a host of memories they call up, I see a long procession of old comrades pass before me, but I wonder where they are. Some I know have left us for the better land, and I expect we shall hear of many at this, our meeting. We had a surprise visit from Keystone recently, also one from Dewdrop. She is now the proud possessor of a little girl, and baby is as bonny as can be. While in ■lnvercargill recently I met Lex and his sister, and carried his sister home with me. I can tell you hubby got a surprise. The past year has been very quiet, especially so for me, as I was speechless from the middle of June until October. Can you imagine it, Dot? A silent Possum,! Did I see you smile, Francis, and exclaim, “Impossible” ? Folk were congratulating hubby ou having a peaceful time, but I can tell you he was pleased when my talking apparatus returned to normal. notwithstanding the fact, as the Frog was so fond of quotI can assure you that I can no-w talk Francis dry, and that’s some undertaking believe me. School concerts and distributions of prizes are now tho order of the day, and soon the children will be free. I wonder who is better pleased—the teacher or the pupil? I know that the mothers will be glad when school re-opens. The fishing season has been very slack, but we hope for better luck after the holidays. Dot, haven’t those short stories of Edith Howes been wonderful for the little ones ? W T hat a Nature-lover she must be! I’m sure that not only the Little Folk read them with pleasure, but also the older folk. They have such a restful influence on one. I hope they continue for a long time. Please may I say a word to the Little Folk. I wonder if yon could remember, little comrades, to put the name of your place after your N.D.P. when you write ? You often write of * happenings and trips in your district, but do not mention the district, and we who live far away do not know where you are. It is such an easy matter to write Dunedin, Dipton, or whatever the place is, after your N.D.P. and it adds so much interest to your .letters'. Remember, little comrades, our motto is" “We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves.” Christmas is drawing near again, and I’ll take this opportunity to wish all comrades a very happy Christmas and a bright and prosperous New Year filled to the last day with peace and happiness. Again thanking you, dear Dot and comrades, for the many happy hours spent together, and still more numerous happy memories, and with kind regards to the editor and pur

former friend and queen, Mrs White, and still closer allegiance to our present queen.—Yours truly, POSSUM (Tapanui).-

DSuch a period of silence must have provde very trying, Possum, and I hope you have no recurrence of such a thing. Sincere thanks for all your good wishes.—DOT.] Dear Dot, —I haven’t seen a Witness for nearly a year, so I don’t know whether this letter will be too early or too late for 0.W.W., but I hope I am in time. It seems a long time since last Christmas, and yet I think the days fly past, and I can’t squeeze enough work into the one day. My garden is a mass of bloom, and I feel just a little ioth to leave it just now, but Soutiiland is calling again, and we are all going down home for Christmas. Last Christmas we went home with our little baby just four months old. This time he will be 16 months, and as lively as it is possible to be. He has just started to walk alone, and can say a few words. He is 'very good-natured, and we don’t spoil him. You said at the foot of my last letter, "He would be made a fuss of,” but there are 22 grandchildren, so, you see, they are quite “common.” Last Easter my husband, baby, and myself all went for a trip to New Plymouth. It was my first experience on board a steamer, and although the sea was very calm, I was seasick in the morning. My baby was very good, though, and 1 managed, somehow, to dress; but I didn't see much of Wellington. I think New Plymouth a lovely place, and would like to live there, but it is top far from home. We spent a month in New Plymouth. A niece of my husband’s came back with us, and lived with us for six months. She had then to go home, as her mother was seriously ill. While she was here my husband and she went out to concerts and played duets together on the piano, and his niece also sang. We had visits from several members of my family during the year, so it keeps us in touch with home. My mother was just with me three days when she received a “wire” to say one of my sisters was very ill with meningitis, so her holiday was cut short. It was an anxious tme, but my sister is almot recovered now. There has been such a lot of sickness and trouble the last six mouths. We had a very severe winter here. I never had so many oolds in my life as I did then; but summer is here now and Christmas at hand, so we’ll forget our troubles and look forward to a pleasant time! I trust there will be a big muster of Old Writers this year. Wishing you all a merry Dnristmas and a happy New Year. — Yours truly, EDENDALE-ITE. fl hope you have a very happy holiday, Edendale-ite. The young man is just at the most interesting stage, and will keep you amused and alive.—DOT.] (All Rights Reserved.) No. 24. THE WOODEN CATERPILLAR. Br Edith Howes. Under the ground beneath the wide spreading fronds of a tree-fern lay a wooden caterpillar. It might have been a caterpillar asleep, so still it was, stretched out in its little burrow. Its six legs, its ringed body, its head and jaws, its live pairs of sucker discs, all were there; but all were brown, bard, wooden. A caterpillar turned to wood, it seemed to be, as if some magician from the Arabian Nights had cast a spell upon it. Day and night it lay strangely there, still, enchanted.

Yet there was life within, for by and by the back of the head split slowly open, and a slender stem pushed itself through, pointing upwards. Up and up it grew, thin, brown, woody, till it reached the surface of the ground. Pushing through to the light it grew and widened into a little upright column, like a tiny bulrush, set round with velvety brown spore-cases. The cases ripened and burst, setting free thousands of tiny spores. Most were blown about on the winds, to perish in unsuitable places. One, settling like a grain of "dust on a leaf, was eaten by a caterpillar. He was a young caterpillar, and he knew no better than to eat the spore. Besides, he had no mother to guard him and telj him not to eat it; or, at any rate, if his. mother was still alive he knew nothing of her and had never seen her. Weeks ago she had flown heavily in under the rata tree on her big, tawny moth wings, had dropped dozens of eggs carelessly about, arid had flown out again without ever looking to see whether they were in good places. Most of them, left exposed like that, had been eaten by beetle or grub or bird, but this one had fallen into a crack in the earth and had there hatched out. First he had eaten his own egg-skin, then he had begun to burrow. Other caterpillars might live in bushes, climb trees, spin their ropes of silk and drop from branch to branch; he was of a less ambitious kind. For him, as for all his family, the earth was home. In its cool darkness he could most safely and most comfortably live. So with his strong little jaws he dug and dug until he had made a burrow big enough to lie in. He pulled loose earth into its opening for a door, and there he settled down. By day, while hungry birds were on the hunt,- he stayed within, but when the shadows fell and friendly night dropped darkly over all the bush and birds had gone to sleep, he would push away the loose earth from the opening and come out to feed. At first he was content to nibble loaves and stems that grew about his door* but when these were eaten off he had to venture further out. He would cut off a leaf with his sharp jaws, drag it to his burrow, slip in, pull the leaf in, and close the opening with earth again, eating the leaf at his leisure. To eat and hide, that was his life. And now, on one of the pulled-in leaves, he had eaten a spore. Well, there seemed no harm in that. He might, and probably would, eat hundreds of spores; spores of fern or moss or liverwort. He might eat larger seeds, yet none of them would do him any harm. Ah, but this one was different! For a long time he seemed perfectly well. He ate heartily and came out at night as he had always done. Days and weeks went by, and nothing happened except that he grew bigger and stronger and fatter. At last he was ready to change. His wandering caterpillar friends had at Time £o sjin silk hammocks for

themselves, or draw two leaves together and weave a bed between, or seek a safe hiding-place under the bark of a tree; but he had his safe hiding-place already made. All he had to do was to spin a very little silk about the loose earth in the opening so as to bind it in its place, and his burrow was ready for the Change. When that was done he stretched himself out at his ease. All his life he had been active in growth, constantly devouring many times his own weight in food, casting his skin,, and enlarging his burrow again and again as he needed more room ; now he was to rest while the forces of life took charge of him, transforming him from slow-crawling caterpillar to strongwinged moth. But the change never took place. His enemy was within him. The spore he had swallowed was a fungus spore, a fungus that lived on animal juices; already, down near the end of his long body, it had begun to grow. He had devoured plants, now a plant was to devour him. It was drawing in his rich juices, making its woody tissues, and spreading fast. At first it had been slowly germinating; now it strode ahead. The lower part of his body was soon filled with the woody structure, hard and brown. He would never begin to change now. He had no power to wrinkle himself up and wriggle out of his last caterpillar skin as 1# had wrinkled and wriggled in former castings; he would never lie ,in a shiny jointed case like his brothers in the next burrow, a chrysalis with wings and feathery feelers forming within. All those parts which should have gone to the making of the moth were going instead to the growth of the fungus. Up it crept, and up, silently, unceasingly. His whole body was rigid and wood-filled now, even to the short little legs. Yet he was not dead, and probably he had felt no pain at all; only he lay stiff and paralysed. But now the fungus attacked his head, and at last life fled. The caterpillar was entirely eaten, the fungus filled his skin. In the burrow under the ground again there lay a caterpillar turned to wood, as if some magician from the Arabian Nights had cast a spell upon it. By and by the head split slowly open, and out came the slender stem. Up it went, pushing through the earth to find the light. Above the ground it grew and widened into a little upright column, like a tiny bulrush, set round with velvety brown spore-cases. They ripened and burst, setting free their spores. Some perished, some were eaten by caterpillars and began again that curious life-cycle, one of the strangast happenings of Nature.

1. Marconi 23. The Shepherdess’s 2. Black Watch. Fairy. 3. Kawarau. 24. Y.M.C.A. Sport. 4. Curly Locks II. 25. Frolic. 5. Snowie. 26. Little Lady. 6. Appi Taniwha. 27. Dewdrop. 7. Garde La Foy. 28. Princess Yanada. S. Nellie Bly and 29. Bryn Afon. Firefly. 30. Huia. 9. Funny Feather 31. Rangi. 10. Lady Benussi. 32. Theresa. 11. Reka. 33. Inquisitive Poll. 12. Alison. 34. Captain Jackson 13. Kitty Clover. Barry. 14. Ivanhoe. 35. Oh, Christina. 15. Peggy S. G. 36. Pat. 16. Viobe. 37. Fra Diavolo. 17. Tom Cat. 38. Boy. 18. Mistress Jean. 39. Josephine. 19. Rogue. 40. Blue Violet. 20. Whitburgh Lass. 41. West Coaster. 21. An Old Writer. 42. Little Sea Breeie 22 Curtis Melvin. 43. Possum. 44. Edendale-ite.