COSY CORNER CLUB.

Otago Witness, Issue 3870, 15 May 1928, Page 67

COSY CORNER CLUB.

MEMBERS’ MEETING. Dear Comrades of the Cosy Corner. —There is a very warm feeling tn my heart, as I write these lines. Before she left for England, Esther, who used to conduct the Cosy Corner Club, assured me that I should enjoy stepping Into her shoes while she was away, because the members were nil so eager and charming. I know now that she spoke truly. Every letter I have received for this first meeting could be described by those two adjectives, while the good wishes the writers have sent to me personally have been most, encouraging and acceptable. Thank you all for your cordiality. I am extremely pleased with the meeting. Seven old and five new members have written, and there is a variety of subject matter to hold everybody’s attention. Original views have been expressed, and new lines of thought opened up. The whole is most gratifying; To the old members I sav, " Greeting ” and to the new, “ Welcome.”’ I hope that the Interest, which has been manifested at this our first meeting, will continue during our whole Cosy Corner Club season, and that the next budget of letters will surpass even these in the eagerness and charm of which Esther spoke. And now for the letters.—Your friend, ELAINE. I.—DAYLIGHT SAVING. Dear Elaine, —You suggested •' Daylight Saving ” as one of the topics on which members might write for this first meeting, and

I hope some of them do, as I have been interested in the idea ever since its Inception, and should like to have other people's views on it, especially those of country members. Out of the welter of argument it seems to me that two facts have emerged. The first is -the truth of the old saying that one half of the world does not know how the other half lives. The bitterness of the controversy over such a simpite matter has amazed, and Indeed distressed, me. So many of the farmers seem to take the attitude that what is no good for them is no good for anybody else—l saw a letter saying so in so many words, —and they label as “ fantastic ” and “ unreasonable,” as ” a pest,” and " an abomination ” something which has been an undoubted benefit to thousands of other workers, which only shows a selfish unreasonableness in themselves. Similarly, I have seen letters from townspeople who evidently know nothing (and care less) about the difficulties of country work, especially dairy farming, and end up by saying, " Who are the farmers, anyway, and why should they be so considered? ” Evidently not having the sense to realise that the prosperity ot the country depends a great deal upon the labours of the primary producers, even though numerically they do not form such a very large proportion—it is something over a quarter—of the working population. Some attempt to understand each other’s point of view would save all this mutual recrimination. The other fact that emerges is one that has been stressed at times, but is more often forgotten, namely, that many country women are overworked and overburdened. And if the daylight saving question has brought that fact into prominence it will have done a great deal of good, though in itself it is rather beside the point. If a woman has to help with the milking of 40 or 50 cows, get the breakfast, cut the children’s lunches, and send them off to school all befoiv 8 a m., and do much the same thing at night, besides her work through the day—then that woman is overworked. and it does not matter whether it is Sidey time or any old time —she would still be overworked. The remedy for all this seems to lie in a suggestion put forward by H. G. Wells several years ago. I think it was in a book edited by him called “ The Great State.” He argued that there was no reason why some people should do all the rough and unpleasant work of the world and oth’ers do none at ail. “ Why,” said he, " should a man spend all his days in a coal mine or cleaning sewers unless he wishes to? ” And why, hn might have added, should a woman spend the best part of her life milking cows, and doing so much work in all weathers, as well as looking after the home and children? His idea was that in a well-organ-ised state it would be the natural thing for all able-bodied men and women to give a year or two of their lives to productive and useful work for the community before taking up their individual careers. It seems to me there are great possibilities In the idea. Think what a difference it would make if every young man going into a profession or business would first put in a couple of years on a farm or in forestry or similar work, and every girl before she took to tapping typewriter keys or merely indulging in the " social round ” would do something of the same kind. It would not hurt them a bit, even if they did no more than earn their keep during that time, and think what a different outlook they would have on life for ever after, and how the burden would be eased for manv who now do most of the hard work of the world 1 Such a thing could not be compulsory—at least not for a long time. It could come about only through the growth of public opinion; but stranger things ha\t:’happened before now. TEMPLETON (Wellington). You are a natural reformer, Templeton. If your ideals could be realised the State would probably be much happier; but we have a long way to go yet before such reforms take place. In the meantime we shall all be interested in waiting to see what 1928 will bring forth with regard to daylight saving.—Elaine. * * n II.—A DISSERTATION ON DRESS. Dear Elain’e,—The warm, sunny days are fast departing and the first chill breath of approaching winter makes us burrow into sundry boxes and drawers and drag to the light of day our last winter's cardigan (Jf we are not so fortunate as to be able to buy a new one), which we don in the frosty mornings and chilly, darkening evenings. ami go about leaving tn our wake the heavy reek of camphor and moth balls. The flimsy garments of summer, chosen with so much care and worn so proudly, are nowlooked upon with the cold eye of disfavour and discarded one by one to be washed and laid by until the warm weath-er comes again. Naturally one’s thoughts turn to the winter wardrobe and last year’s clothes are laid out and reviewed without much enthusiasm. I, for my part, think but little of my display, and my soul craves a nice, new tailored suit to replace the, to my mind, very shabby brown one of last year’s fame. 1 know just what I want—a smooth heather-mixture cloth, grey toned, with little flecks of purple and green. Yes, and I know just the tailor to make it. His price is sewn guineas. Of course, not a fashionable tailor. Oh, no! Not at that pricebut he suits me well, and he has made for me so long that he does not need to fit me at all now. I wouldn't dare go to a fashionable tailor with my figure. I haven’t exactly decided to have the new costume but there’s no harm in thinking it over, nor in looking at the latest fashion book to choose a style in case I do decide to have it. There are so many nice styles in thtj book that it is difficult to make a choice • but at last I settle on one. and, looking into space, I see myself, in that grey tailored looking just like the girl in the fashion plate. Slim and willowy I picture myself the envy and admiration of all my friends’ in my perfectly fitting suit ; and so I dream ° n !^ r half -hour. Then comes the thought, shoes shall I wear with the tailored ? * And to get inspiration I once more gaze at the girl in the picture. High heels ! My pleasant dreams come tumbling about my ears at the idea, and the slim, graceful vision of me in the grey tailored vanishes in a flash as I stick mv feet out be'ore me and glare at them in distaste. They re all wrong, they turn in and I never could wear high heels; I absolutely totter in them. And my legs' Mv greatest, friend once told me they are’ much too short, and I don’t need anyone to tell me they are far too fat. I have never seen anything so nearly approaching a beer bOU m in .. sha I’ e as those legs. And, anyhow would the tailored suit fit me like the fashion-plate girl? I am sure it would not, for she doesn t bulge anywhere, and 1 bulge grossly in places where I shouldn’t. Again 1 CO ?J Ur ?- up a y ision of myself, not moulded on tne lines of the picture girl, but as I have so often seen me, sallying forth in all the glory of a new frock, perfectly pleased and satisfied with my appearance until I happen to glance in a shop window and glimpse a queer, squat, little figure all the wrong shape, gazing back at me. There’s something familiar about that figure but so far is the step from what I think I look like to what- I really am that I needs must look at my reflection more than once quite to believe my eyes. I sigh as I close the fashion book, and somehow the grey tailored doesn’t appear nearly so attractive now, and after all, who notices our clothes? We in our self-conceit, go forth clad in a new garment, supremely assured that all eyeh are turned upon us, while in reality we are, in the main, of so little consequence that our clothes are not even noticed by the majority. Perhaps our intimate friends may rave over some pretty garment wb possess, but as soon as something new

comes along it is a thing of the past and entirely forgotten. It seems to me, on reflection, that clothes are very little worth the time and expense spent upon them, and I think perhaps I will make last year’s brown costume do after all, so the little tailor won’t get his order for the grey. I am going now to telephone the draper and cancel my subscription to that fashion book. If the fashions shown are only for tall, willowy peopl’d, what is the use of them to the little, squaj, bulgy tvpe MYRA KAYE (Napier). Poor Myra ! I know just how you feel with regard to frock as’ seen in fancy and frock as seen in fact. But never mind. Plump people are quite as nice as willowy ones and often very much better tempered, so what does it matter I am so pleased that you have joined our club.—Elaine. < » • III.—AUTUMN AND GEORGE 7 GISSING. Dear Elaine, —What a delightful programme we have before us this year. I am eagerly looking forward both to writing and reading each month’s topic. For this month I had several subjects half thought out, and before I finally decided which subject to choose I realised time was short, so I am sending in an extract from one of my favourite books. “The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft.” It is, I gather, an autobiography of the author, George Gisslng. Although he may have led a somewhat selfcentred life, he has left behind him this little book which has been a joy to many. It is divided into the four seasons, and I have chosen an extract from the autumn section :—“ I cannot close my eyes upon this day without setting down some record of it, yet the foolish insufficiency of words 1 At sunrise I looked forth ; nowhere could I discern a cloud the size of a man’s hand. The leaves quivered gently, as if with joy in the divine morning which glistened upon their dew. At sunset I stood in the meadow above my house, and watched the red orb sink into the purple mist, whilst in the violet heaven behind me rose the perfect moon. All between, through the soft circling of the dial’s shadow, was loveliness and quite unutterable. Never, I could fancy, could autumn clothe In such magnificence the elms and beeches; never, I should think, did the leafage on my walls blaze in such royal crimson. It was no day for wandering ; under a canopy of blue or gold, where the eye could fall on nothing that was not beautiful enough to be at one with Nature in dreamy rest. From stubble fields sounded the long caw of rooks ; a sleepy crow-ing ever and anon told of the neighbour farm ; my doves cooed above their cot. Was it for five minutes or was it for an hour that I watched the yellow butterfly wafted as by an insensible tremor of the air amid the garden glintings? In every autumn there comes one such flawless day. None that I have known has brought me a mind so touched to the filling mood of welcome, and so fulfilled the promise of its peace.” Two days ago we had a perfect autumn day like the one described by George Gissing. The sunset was so glorious that I watched it till all the magnificent pageant of colour faded. A silver moon rose slowly out of the sea. shedding over everything a beautiful unearthly light. Beauty was everywhere that day, and, like W. H. Davies, I could thankfully say ; "What is this life if full of care; We have no time to stand and stare.” Best wishes for a record year. CARMENCITA (Canterbury). A beautiful description, Carmencita. George Gissing’s appreciation of his surroundings is proverbial, and, in his own words, he squeezed from each minute its last drop of sweetness.’ The autumn day you yourself describe must have been indeed perfect.—Elaine. * * * IV. —THE HISTORY OF "PENDENNIS.” Dear Elaine. —We all, no doubt, know William Makepeace Thackeray, or, at least, a little about one who added greatly to the treasures of English literature. In his 52 years of life Thackeray has left much that we now enjoy. I note that he wished to become an artist, and, in the book which I have recently perused, a rather crude <!• wing constitutes the frontispiece, which I ,ke to be one of the author’s endeavours in that line. The preface of the book was written in 1850, thirteen years before Thackeray's opmise. While reading “ Pendennis ” I enjoyed Thackeray’s witticisms by which he establishes himself as a humorist. I found him, however, rather _ inclined to harsh criticisms by portraying the faults and vices of his characters too vividly and not giving them enough credit for their virtues. Arthur Pendennis, the hero of the story, accedes to the rule of Fairoaks on the decease of his father, John Pendennis, at the age of 16, and he also well rules the household, which comprises his high-bred, guntie, saintly, and too loving mother, Helen Pendennis, and her adopted daughter Laura Bell, who also loves the wilful Arthur. The difficulties, vices, virtues, ambitions, and romances of young Pen (as he is called) are more or less ruled by his uncle, Major Pendennis, who, having his headquarters in London ami moving in the best society, advises his nephew acordlng to and from his very worldly viewpoint, and who is an important figure. The time comes when Arthur, after finishing his education at university, proceeds to London to study law, but ends in contributing to well-known city journals and making for himself some fame. His passions for Miss Fotheringay. an actress, some years his senior; Fanny' Bolton, the low-born, put pretty, daughter of an innkeeper ; and Blanche Amory, whose mother becomes Lady Clavering, are well told, and in the two first instances give his mother no small anxiety and worry. After Helen’s death, however, circumstances are such that he find that Laura Bull Is the most worthy, and though the greatest and only love of his life was given to Miss Fotheringay, who ultimately became Lady Mirabel, he marries Miss Bell, which union was ever the fond hope and wish of. his mother. Captain Costigan, father of the actress, and an inveterate drunkard, is an amusing and ofttimes exasperating personage, and the weak and cowardly Sir Francis Clavering ; Colonel Altamont, Blanche Amory’s roguish father: George Warrington, who loves Laura and befr.'ends Arthur; Captain Strong, Henry Foker, and various other more or less minor characters make up this fascinating story. MONTROSE LASSIE (Central Otago). Welcome, Montrose Lassie. You have given us a vivid picture' of Pendennis. Also your criticism of Thackeray seems to me sound. Like Addison and Fielding before him, he was a censor of morals and a satirist. “ Pendennis ” is of interest to lovers of Thackeray in that it is largely autobiographical.—Elaine. V.—THE WITNESS IN OUR HOME. Dear Elaine, —I have not written to your club before, but have always longed to do so. I shall try to tell you about the Otago Witness in Our home. We live on a farm In Canterbury. My husband and I, both being Southlandites, decided that there was no better way of keeping in touch with news from the south than by reading the Otago Witness, and now that the elder ones of our eight children are getting into their ’teens they must all read it too. First, Miss Eleven, who carries the mail home on her way from school, must just have a peep at the and, of course, at Dot’s page, which she reads as she dawdles along, oh, yes, and a peep at the Chums, too. Finally’ she arrives home when we are milking. Miss Seventeen is the first to meet her with, “Where’s the Witness? You set the table’, while I have just a peep at the story,” and so she devours the bits of romances one

after the other, until she hears Brother Sixteen come in from the plough with " Let’s see it a minute; you had better get on with the tea, as dad will be in.” So the humour page and Editor’s ■ Wallet and Notes and Queries are all hunted after, until there comes a cry to turn the separator. Miss Eleven then has another pry until dad comes to tea, when it is his turn. First he looks up the deaths and marriages, then the plctuies. “ Yours Tru'y ” looking over his shoulder the while. Then he sits on the Witness and says, " Let us have tea.” Everyone knows the Witness is dad’s for the evening then. Tea over, dad gets into his easy chair, and has a good, well-earned rest with the Witness, reading out little pieces of interest, while I sit trying to drill lessons into two romping boys of seven and nine, who keep asking me, “ When we finish our spelling, will you read us Dot’s letters?" What light work lessons become when they have that promise to look forward to ! So I often, sit and read letter after letter to them, and our twins, aged four, enjoy them just as much. Of course, I have to read Dot’s answers, too, and explain all about tho Chums while the little ones sit with dancing eyes and think it is the greatest treat they can have. When I get ail the children off to bed, it is then my turn for the Witness, and what a tnqat it is for a tired mother! There is so much to choose from to suit the mood I am in, and so much to gather from it. There is Sketcher and other little light pieces for just a few minutes over a cup of tea, and the Garland, which always has something that or.’e must never forget. " Patchwork Pieces ” and "A Letter from Home ” are so Interesting, as are other things of deeper reading. I think everyone must agree with me that there is reading to suit every individual taste. I spend as much time as I can spare over the Witness. I takes me out of all my little household worri’es, and gives me many a happy few minutes’ rest during tho week. The last serial, “ Dragonfly,” was lovely, and the short stories are always so brief and life-like I feel as If I should like to write some as well as read them. But there is one still I have not mentioned who enjoys the Witness as w-ell as I do. That is Master Fourteen. Arivlng late from Technical School, he knows his turn cannot comt until next day. But what reading he finds there ! " .Lawless Days ” and all adventurous pieces appeal most to him. “ The Boy in the Backblocks ” was a lovely little piece, and I think I can guess who that boy was. But . I cannot mention all there is in the Witness to suit this adventurous boy of 14 or my letter will be too long. JOAN ROWAN (North Canterbury). I am so glad that you have decided to join us at last, John Rowan. And what a charming letter you have written about our Otago Witness ! I read it to the editor, who was particularly amused over the part where Dad ” sits on the paper. it is such a human touch. I hops? you will write to us often.—Elaine. * * * VI.—BOOKS. Dear Elaine,—Before submitting my humble contribution I should like to w’ish yourself and all fellow-members of the Cosy Corner Club the very best of good things throughout this new year. To Esther wherever she may be wandering, I'm sure we wish her the gladdest and most joyous time ever, and a safe return. For this meeting I have chosen the topic “ Books,” for I regard thpm as very important factors in our daily life, providing as they do much of the food for our minds to which feeding is as necessary as that of our physical bodies. Books aro companionable steadfast, and understanding friends, and no matter in what mood we approach’ them they seem to supply our need, and help us to take a firm grip of ourselves and upon life once again. They encourage and inspire, and are sociable and comforting as ■well as instructive. A room containing even the most humble bookshelf at once seems to vxtend the hand of friendship as we enter. Even when we feel too wearied in body and mind to read, how very comforting to fall Into an easy chair, and casting our eyes over the titled backs of our books as they stand upon their shelf, call to our mental vision some beloved or noble character from out their pages. Truly books are living friends. When we have read them ourselves there is always someone else whom w’e know would enjoy the volume. Just here is where the bittersweet comes in, for, while w r e love to share friendp with our human friends, the latter are not always as respectful to the former as -we could wish. If our books are abused we are conscious of a personal ‘V lr , t ’ °H r only c °nsolation is the hope that the book and its contents have accomPl'shed something worth while. My humble shelf contains, a somewhat catholic collection, for tho most part picked up while spending a spare half-hour browsing around the stores. Many wonderful books have recently come to the stores, and still more are arriving. There seems to be a "wonderful quickening and forward move in the minds of our writers to-day, which should react on the world at large, and to the good of us all. In these days so much controversy on all manner of non-essentials (In high estate and low) rather wearies us. It is all so vague, and never seems to get anywhere. A little book I happened on recently, " The Impatience of A Parson,” by H. R. L. Sheppard, struck me as something vital and definite. When I read it I felt that the author had had a babble with himself ere h’e committed his thought to print, for it seems that for 15 years these thoughts had been burning in his brain asking for expression. It seems pathetic how he exonerates so emphatically all those associated with him. taking r.ole responsibility for the thoughts expressed ; thereby we feel he expects more censure than praise from the powers which lye. Pathetic because why? His thoughts are just Christianity in action, not merely profession. On reading it I wondered if Mr Sheppard’s thoughts were akin to those of Carlyle when he had his “ Sartor Resartus ” rejected by publishers. He said, “ I have written it.” Thus his responsibility was discharged, and the onus was on those who rejected it. Could the vision of this little book be wrought out in the lives of church members (ot all sects and denominations) this world's worst problems would be solved, even up to and Including war and drink ; but I fear we lack the necessary quality to test it out, viz., courage. NANCE (Napier). I know the book, Nance, and like it, too. H. R. L. Sheppard certainly believes in practical Christianity, and is, I believe, greatly loved, especially by the poorer classes in London. The first part of your letter pleased m’a immensely. I, too, love books, and know the feeling of personal hurt which one feels when a beloved book Is returned in a damaged condition.—• Elaine. » * * VII.—EARLY TO BED. Dear Elaine, —Once again I take up pen and write a few lines to the Cosy Corner Club. Since our last meeting we have had the trial of the Summer Time Act, for which somto people were " for ” and some " against.” Personally, I don’t see why those who go in for sport cannot have their extra hour. The country man or woman who comes to the city for a day’s shoppiK s ’ has in most cases cows or animals oi some sort to feed, and consequently must rise earlier that morning. At night when ariving home, mostly tired and weary, he has again to attend to his duties. Now It wouldn’t matter to the country folk if the town folk had* the extra hour, as their trains and buses always leave before thu

*hops close. The country people In most Cases do not like daylight saving. In most cases it is “ daylight -Slaving ’ for tU.ui. I sincerely hope Esther enjoys her • visit to England. I for one envy her the trip, and I hope she will later tell us some of the interesting sights she sees. England Is Home to everyone of us, although few are able to visit It. SHENAC (Otago). You also are in favour of daylight saving, Shenac. I think I must, conless to being so also, seeing I live in town. But I can appreciate to some extent the country person’s point of view.—Elaine. ♦* * * VIII.—EASTER MONDAY. Dear Elaine, —Easter Monday ! What memories the name brings to mind—the day on which our Lord rose victorious from the dead ! The day we are taught to honi as a Sabbath in memory of H's fi'>n in this acte of Ind’ff —I-i — ----- 5 with delight as a holiday, a cessation from thEaster Monday—are we any better than the crowd? Not a whit! For on this day the threshing mill is coming, and we are quietly rejoicing because the sun is shining and the weather looks settled. It comes—yes, there it is coining throijgh the gate. But surely ail that flying steam is quite unnecessary. Yes. We hear it passed from mouth to mouth: “ The engine has blown out.” Righto! Get to work. Pull out the tire. Let it cool. Put the plug back in. Up comes the sledge for' a barrel of water, a bundle of sticks, and (as it is time for food) the much basket and a bucket of tea; for, though no work has yet been done, the men have had an early breaklast, an 1 must of necessity eat and drink. Steam is up again ! Barely two hours have been lost. They gc. a start to turesh. Dinner over, I sally forth to take a lew snaps. Just as I get to the end of the film—whiz-z-z-s-s-s—---she’s out again ; and no film in to take the sight of the second blowout Tv m ,;e hours are lost. I had expected them to be gone alter dinner. Now . m beginning to think they may still be here for Oroaafast to-morrow. I go over my stores, set tv • otk and bake for tea. Lunch goes out before they get a start again. We get the dozen cows in, and three of us attend to them. Fowls, pigs, calves, etc., all must be seen to. I make a dive for the kitchen as soon as possible. It is growing dark. Th’ay may not finish threshing. It may become too dark. Last report says there is a good bit to put through. Tea—all ready, the last sheaf is through. They are shifting, and we are anxiously listening to every noise. Whoo-o-o ! Whan"-"’ ran it be? It is dark now. What is the matter? The telephone wires are both broken ! Then al the men say: “inis .

done, “ that should have been done, ” tc. “ Never thought of the wires.” It being a holiday there were no ’phone calls a., day, but now it is between 7 and 8 when the exchange is on, and this means the whole line is out of r-ntior r r n ne subscribers. Two men climb different trees and twist the wires together, but though taey ' are resting on trees it makes no difference to the sound, though the head linesman is so particular about the wires not touching even a branch. Dad will mend them properly next day. In tor tea with a rush ; then the mill shifts in the keten frosty darkness. Like us, its men will not forget in a hurry the Easter Monday spent threshing on our ranch with two blows-out, broken telephone wires, and us. We were particularly short of water after the dry spell, and the extra barrels of water used that day would have helped to stop the lowing of the cows for a few extra gulps. But it is all In the day’s work, and it was as well . to happen here as at anyone else’s place, though I’m always glad to think the threshing is over for another year. Greetings to Elaine and all members of the Cosy Corner Club. TUSSOCK (Otago). You are welcome to our club. Tussock. What a busy and eventful time you had on Easter Monday! I have stayed on a term during the threshing season, and know how exciting it is. But I have ntsver had such adventures as you tell us of. No won er you are glad that threshing is over for this year.—Elaine. IX.—EARLY MORNING. Dear Elaine, —I awoke early this morning, and. quietly dressing, I slipped out to the garden to see the mornine star nnd — the daybreak. How beautiful Venus looked in its surroundings of dark blue: it „„s ' such a lovely morning. Yesterday the wind | blew all day. What songs it sang as It. ! whistled down the chimney and whirled 1 through the tops of the lives, be In m I of the branches almost to brenkin" *- 1 It is not often that roofs are blown off and houses ruined in a gale, out birds are not so fortunate. A gale may mean the undoing of all their labour; but the dear wee things will waste no time in lamenting, for they will start again- -with much twittering to build a new home. B-’t hark ! I hear the first wee chirps. The birds are awaking like the day. Over the Blue Mountains the first golden ray appears. How happy the birds are now. The linnets and ring-eyes are looking for. their breakfast. I often think our- life is just like a day. Venus, the star of Love, heralds In the day. In the dawn of life love plays an Important part. See th®. Jove and care a mother- -. will bestow on. her little ones. How happy is childhood i- A little while and it is noon, when life is fair and sweet, and we wear those rose-coloured glasses which make the world so-- lovely and when everything Is new to us. A short space and behind us Ites the valley of youthful dreams, for evening draws - on-— evening, the. sweetest time of the whole day, I think. How I sometimes long for evening ! To wander out into the cool, scented night air and lift my eyes to the starry heavens make all my frets and worries forgotten, for into my heart steals a great peacfe. How beautiful, calm, and tranquil it ® . / S \_ So sh °d l(l th e evening of life be With the star of Home shining clearly upon us and bidding us lay down our burdens In the sure hope that after the night comes the morning; "And with that morn those angel faces smile. Which I have loved long since—and lost awhile.” HEARTSEASE-(Otago). Such an early morning peep at Nature-, as you have described is not often enjoyed by people, Heartsease. We are generally too weary to seek after such beauties The experiment seems to have Impressed you .-deeply, for you build on it a little tale of which Is very appealing.—Elaine. ... .'/rO * * * X.—IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY. Dear Elaine, —As a read, r of the Cosy Corner Club for many years, I venture at last to pen a letter. You have given such scope for the initial letter of the season that one has difficulty in hitting up a subject. After much thought I have decided to write a short account of my life as owner of a small dairy farm. It is only . 10 months since I took up this line. Before that for six long years I wandered from Auckland to the hinterland of Southland at the mercy of a man who, to use his own words, took “ a drop too much ” occasionally.. That same " drop too much ” broke - iny s ,,j»atience l .c.’And we parted just. a year -jjlgo-S—l with the two children wu had been blest with and very little else to go my way, and he with nothing but memories of what might have beep. Fortunately I had a loving father and mother ready to help smooth my path. Selling his little bungalow

in town, my father bought a small farm a ... - , ii.; ■.! on ~.. 1 'J months —my mother and my children and I. Now dairy farming, dear Elane, has to be approached in the right spirit. The cows, the main source of income, must be humoured and liked. Their annoying little ways—breaking into the hay naddock and greedily spoiling the grass sac ted for winter feed, getting into a neigbb ; paddock, running affectionately after .or-j ot the herd at a time when celibacy is the rule, getting a chill in the udder, or something catching, and spreading it, desnlte the utmost care, through the herd—all these things have to be taken in the day’s wo k. One has to rise with the lark. I who all my life had never had to get up early, have jumped out of bed at 4.Bti al .m - 1 No. we didn’t curse Mr T. K. Sidey; we only said, " I wonder if Mr Sidey is out of bed yet; it’s really only 3.30 a in. It was the evenings we felt inclined to grumble about. You. dear Elaine, would d. >’ . ess enjoy that extra hour of daylight. But get 1 up at 4.30 seven days a week and see howmuch of a blessing you would find it. We i would yawn after tea, when our work for I the day was done —not a 5 o’clock tea, but 7 o’clock —and when the dishes were w- shed and the day’s book filled in, off w’a’d wander to bed. ‘The sun would- be shining brightly and the children playing happily outside. I’d undress, then call the children in to be-’ -ml ’ protests. I’d no nt to my own nightie and reason gently with them that ■ -’teht. left, thanks to Mr Sidey, it was quite time for o. c..ur=e, I d open a book ana read until it was dars, b_. 1 it was well past the hour I should have been asleep. Yes, thanks to daylight saving, my' waking hours stretched from before 4.30 until 9 p.m. every day. I did not mean to touch upon daylight saving, but naturally it hit dairy farmers harder than anyone. For months in the year we have to get up in the dark and stumble — u-jte .te’-k •--ae-leeks to get in the cows, so that It did seem hard to have to do the sann. to a cerium extent belbre daylight saving ended, when really we needn’t have. -,,-e allo-’ad is surely used up. In conclusion I wish all success to the Cosy Corner Club. JUANITA (Otago). Yours has been a trying life, Juanita, but- one which must have given you great opportunities to develop the spirit of tolerunderstanding, and sweetness which seems to be Indicated in your letter. I bo-e that the two children you speak of will take you for their example. I am Su gla.. tc near irom you.—Eiaine. * * * XI.—HOP-PICKING IN NEW ZEALAND. Dear Elaine, —I have decided on ”--r ting on the above subject. Strange to say, we have never read anything about • hop-pick-ing in our newspapers. Three recent hoppicking pictures in one of the illustrated journals are not correct. I am afraid I shall not be able to get the article within the prescribed limits, but I crave your indulgence, as It Is so Important. I was hoppicking in Nelson three seasons ago. I lived at Oamaru at that tim’d. ' I went to Parnassus by rail, thence by motor coach to Kaikoura, thence by cycle to ’Ward, thence by train to Blenheim, and thence bv cycle to Upper Moutere, 22 miles beyond Nelson. The hospitality I received is a beautiful memory that will never grow dim. I stayed in Nelson a night, and made Inquiries about a place In a hop garden. No one knew anything about it. Neither the Government Labour Bureau nor the new-spaper office knew anything about hop-picking, but in a general way I ascertained that it would be best to go to Upper Moutere. I applied at the store, and was laid on to Mr V. L. Eban, and started there during the first week in March. Some of the hop gardens, with early varieties, had nearly finished. I had short periods in two adjoining gardens also. The whole work was a decided novelty, as I had never seen a hop garden before. The old fashion is to put in poles for the hops to climb up, but the up-to-date plan, and the best, is to stretch wires across the garden on poles 10ft above the ground, and tie binder twine on the wires, and peg the other end down to the ground beside the plant. There are 1000 hop hills to each acre, and only three lines are allowed to climb up tho twine, the rest being pruned off. Each picker’s bln is like a bed-stretcher, with scrim across reaching to the ground. Th’e ends are like the ends of a sawhorse. 2ft above the sides, and the bins are placed longways in the onus where they cross. The biussoms are then pulled off and dropped In the bins. If | you get in a hop garden where the crop I is a bit poor and the bunches of hops 1 small small tallies are the rule, 35 bushels • picked per day being the biggest in our party. This was for- experienced pickers. Three of us new chums got less than 20 bushels ; payment 3d per bushel. The bins were always placed in the same order of sequence and in the shade as far as possible. The hops were measured with a tin measure at dinner time and night time, emptied into scrim sacks the size of bed- ; ticks, and carted away to the drying kilns every night. We were provided with half a nt of i lk every dfty - Potatoes ad lib , and vegetables and cucumbers occasionally and v.e hau to cook tor ourselves. D.nner Voffi P rlmitlve - The hopgrower boiled the kettle., and we had bread and meat, and’ sometimes a tomato, and tea. - Everyone was afraid of losing a halfpenny, "therefore there was no stoppage for mornfni? and afternoon tea I must confess to the fact that I was scon looking forward tO’Saturday night and Sunday, when I would” have time to and k fte/ 00 * 1 m?aL Thero were four women men m our party. All the latter w-ere non-smokers, which was a subject for ' 3Very day - The men aH helped the women to bag up.; this is natural to many men. One 69-acre eardon nrn e,J / 7 bales the size of wool bales, hard pressed, and weighing 3cwt to 4ewt. I reat the camp 10 days; more, cycled all round the neighbourhood, and had enjoyable and interesting holiday at trifling RICHARD NORMAN' (Lawrence). , r . have he ard that hop-pickffig is an interesting work, Richard Norman. I suppose s y oo U n.-FIS t 0 retUrn t 0 -mTday .... » ....« xii.-—housekeeping. Dear Elaine,—l will do my- best to write you on a subject that appeals to the uni versa! mind of woman. For a short nenod I relinquished business cares to take on housekeeping to enable the member of family who is in that line to uk e aholi day I am not used to. this, and it became Jj?exacting and distracting. The head of the home was not in the best of health other 5 things 0 to & floras C we r n tessons a„d S attend I was not eating idle bread tn tn midst of It all I received an offer of ape ’ a home 'and some worldly substance that would enable nfe to look to the future with a tranquil mind But the anxiety of my new duties scared’ me a L 1 C °He <l « deadly lonely baching, and he one to leave his favings to wh o would’ briug sunshine into his home. He wanted as'? 17 c!me ttS' 0 is & in'acocrdance 1 wRh & stories relating to marriage which adorn the pages of Holy Writ. It cost ? pang to write to him telling him that I

■ be » rim oid maid, auu advised him to remain single. I should hate c - l u.n 1 nA know why this is so. a little story now occurs to my mind. Away in the early times a dear lit!le-school ma'am w-nt ' ■’• i. ■ '■ 3blocks to teach school. She there received much kindness and hospitality, and became friendly with the little aristocrats of the place. This caused her to fly her kite a bit higher. Then she came back to her home town to teach. Here all her people were workers, for this was a worker’s town, and therefore she did hot go among the aristocrats. She waited and waite-l. and remained single, for the days flew by on gilded wings. She now lives in retirement, and always looks worried. In Mrs Ran’le’s beautiful " Lilts and Lyrics of New Zealand ’ there Is a beautiful poem on these lines. R. E. D. You had a good adventure, R. E. D. I wonder if you will ever regret the “ No " which you said on the occasion of th’e proposal of marriage you received. —Eiaine. Next meeting, June. "If I Could Change.” In this meeting members arc invited to discuss the question " If I could change my identity, who should I like to be (or to have been) and why?” We are said to be generally dissatisfied with our lot nowadays, and tms meeting will give us a chance to air our grievances. Last date for sending in contributions-, June 11.