COUSINS’ CORRESPONDENCE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 18, 4 November 1905, Page 52

COUSINS’ CORRESPONDENCE.

Dear Cousin Kate, — Your reply to my last week's letter was a source of great pleasure to me. You seem to voice *o many of my thoughts and feeling-. 1 do not admire Rubens either, though, as you say, his colouring is marvellous. His faces are so expressionless, or, rather, their expression is that of a well-fed animal. Not that sinh expression is confined to Rubens’ pictures. 1 often see women I want to Minke —their expression is so cow-like, a sort of patient, down-trod-den, it can't be-helped «ort of look. His ■wife, it is >aid, was his model, and if,

as is generally the case, he idealist her, one trembles to think of what the original must have been. Old masters had the secret of colouring without doubt, but expression was decidedly at a discount with a great many of them. We laughed consumed I v at the old masters

when we visited the National Gallery, and a friend who went with us said that he did not care if he never saw another picture in his life; but after this we took him to sec Rosa Bonhcur's “Horse lair’’ and Landseer's “Dignity ami Impudence,*’ and these consoled him so much that he conceded that they alone were worth the visit. Talking of artists choo-ing their wives as models, reminds one of Du Manner’s ami Mi Lais’ beautiful wives, who were also their models in many in-tances. “Trilby” and “The Black Brunsxxirker” notably. We could not help noticing the dearth of really nice tearooms in London. Some of the A.B.i . shops were fairly good, but as a whole they were both dirty and common. Mother remembers a new tearoom somewhere off Piccadilly, in or near Bond->t reel, called “Ye Olde English." that was very nice. She remembers also with amusement that cigarettes seemed to b? a- much in demand as tea. We nearly always went to Buzzards’ for ■tea. The variety of cakes (sweet, iced, hot and toasted, as well as a we:lge of their famous bride’s cake) are wonderful. and the service excellent, being performed by men. I quite understand what you mean by the don't-you-fecl-honoured sort of style, and despise it no end. Unfortunately it is not conlined to London. I have seen it in Au kland. ami I have always re.i<oiied th s way—that anyone who ludiavcs in such a manner. no matter what their birth or social position max In*, is below, not above, their employment. Besides being undignified, it is md diplomatic,.and ceitainly not strict lx honest to their employers, who have a right to their service being rendered in such a way us to induce patron s to come again. True courtesy (as you say) must proceed from the heart, and. indeed, unless it does, may as often as not be mistaken for irony. Yes; J have noticed John Bui' abroad, and especially in Roman Catholic (liurches. and at table d'hote. They seem to act on him like the rod rag dors on his box ine namesake. I lemember seeing in one very beautiful church in

Genoa a number of small brass plates let into the marble pillars that supported the roof. On asking one of our party to translate the writing on them 1 was told that it was: “Please do not spit on the walls or floor.” I was, of course, horrified, and asked who on earth would do so in church, and the guide calmly told us that the English and Americans were the greatest offenders. Some of our party behaved badly enough in talking loudly, though numbers of people were kneeling at the shrines of their respective saints. I could not help being struck xvith the important part that religion plays in the lives of Roman Catholic people. A fisherman would come to church in his working clothes, a nurse with her little charges, or a high-born lady, or a busy housewife out on a shopping expedition, just for five minutes, for rest and prayer, and it seemed horrible that their privacy should be intiuded upon by aliens, xvho had neither the good feeling nor good breeding to abstain from contemptuous remarks while in a sacred building about a religion xvliich has at least the merit of being older than their own. The Trafalgar Centenary has come and gone. What a lot wc English owe to Nelson. We thought the “Graphic” pictures of the different steps and events of Nelson’s life very good, and abo the portrait of Lady Hamilton. These, with the reprint of the “Times,” foim a valuable and interesting souvenir of the centenary as celebrated in Auckland. I remember reading some time ago a book called “The Admiral,” but cannot remember the name of its author. If xvas. if I remember rightly.written in a sort of diary form, and a great many of the extracts had been taken, it xvas said, from some private papers wh’ch had been discovered that had belonged to a lieutenant of Nelson’s flagship, and who xvas also Nelson’s friend. Whether this is true or not 1 do not knoxv, hut n good deal of personal and historic fact permeated the whole and made it very interesting reading. Mother and I have seen Trafalgar Bay. and she, as a girl, when staying at Lowestoft, on the oast coast, went over to Yarmouth for a couple of days and saw Burn’iam Thorpe, where Nelson xvas born. Sh? also remembers seeing the statue of Nelson, looking out to sea. on or near the beach near Yarmouth. Wo have aLo se?n in Naples the road called Via Caraeciola. which leads to the beautiful suburb of Posillipo, which is named after the last. Prince of that house, whom Nelson hung al the yardarm of his ship for treason. Has it over struck you of the important part the elements seem to have played in our great sea tights? It would also seem as though, if the elements wore xvith you. nothing else mattered much. I know 1 thought so one night on our voyage Home (a ('alm. still night), or,

to be more correct, very early morning. We xvere asleep in our berths, when xxe were awakened by a terrific noise, and our ship stopped dead. Our first thought was we had struck a rock, and in a minute everybody got out of their berths, flexv to the corridor, the- stewardess being the last to put in an appearance, looking very sleepy, and qs calm as though shipwrecks were things of everyday occurrence. “Ladies,” she said, “go back to your berths. If if had been anything serious you would been called up on deck before this. If you xx ill remain here quietly I’d go up see xvhat it is, and will come down

again at once and tell you.” Well, mother and I went back, she saying,‘‘Get into your berth, Hilda; if we are to go down we may as well do so quietly and without fuss.” Our stewardess kept her word, and told us it was only a broken shaft, and that we should just have to drift until temporary' repairs could be eftected. We had a splendid engineer, and in two days (during which he never went to bed) we were ploughing along again, slowly enough, but surely. The funny thing was that on reaching England and telling Auntie about our adventure I made mother say “Get into your berth, Hilda; if we are to die we may as well die comfortably/’ at which Auntie, to my great indignation, laughed until she cried. Of course, I am older now. and should not make that silly mistake again. I had such a dear little letter from Cousin Kitty (Waikouaiti) last week, and a pictorial post-card of the Recreation Grounds, Nelson. I wrote back again, and sent in return a coloured post-card of Hampton Court, thinking she might like an English one, as in New Zealand we can easily get our own views. 1 went with mother last night to a Dickens’ entertainment in the Y.M.C.A. Lecture Hall, given by Mr Horace Hunt, in aid of the Orphan Home Fund. The selection was an admirable

one and consisted of “The Visit to Bath,” “Pickwick Papers,” “The Birth, Life and Death of Paul Dombey,” “Dombey and >Son,” “Mrs Bumble’s Courtship” (where Mrs Corney makes tea, Mr Bumble love), “Oliver Twist,” “Four Visits to Yarmouth,” “David Copperfield,” and “The Tuggses at Ramsgate,” from “Sketches by Boz.” The night was a very wet one, the audience the smallest, considering the merit of both the entertainment and the object for wh'ch it was given. Small as the audience was, it was a very appreciative one, and there were times during the reading of the more pathetic parts when the audience sat so still that one might have heard a pin drop. Of the excellence of the reading it ean only be said that only a lovei' of Dickens, and that lover a very good elocutionist, could have sustained the rapt interest of an audience for two hours, which was done by Mr Hunt, and without apparent effort. Mr Arthur Myers, in a felicitous speech, in returning thanks to Mr Hunt for his admirable entertainment, said that when we told our friends of the exceedingly good entertainment Mr Hunt had given us they would be so envious that when our new Town Hall was built, wet or not, it would be too small to hold the people who would want to go. The programmes were very dainty, and were made of rough paper (heliotrope) and printed in dark red old English letters, and wore quite in keeping with Old World style. I shall hope to hear Mr Hunt again. I am going to-night with mother to a social at the Chapel-street School, and will, if I may, give you an account of it next time. With love to yourse’f and all the cousins, I remain, your affectionate cousin, Hilda, Ponsonby.

[Dear Cousin Hilda, —It was thoughtful of you to send a nice long letter this week, notwithstanding the fact that my answer to your last was-so “skimpy”—if I may use an expressive slang word. I knew, however, you would understand why I was so brief last week when you got my note. With regard to old masters, most of them are certainly somewhat grotesque, specially at first sight. The Italian school, however, soon grows on one, and after a time one begins to understand them, but it is assuredly a matter of the cultivation of taste, and some people never achieve genuine appreciation any more than others can tolerate the taste of, say, olives or oysters. I had a great joke against a colonial friend of mine when

Msltfng the National Gallery some seven or eight years since. We had been sitting in front of the very beautiful and celebrated portrait of King Charles the First by Vandyke. 1 had expatiated at length on the-nobility of the pose, the premonitory sadness of the faee, and matchless workmanship—for, indeed, it is a painting in ten thousand—and my friend was apparently much impressed and ruminated deeply. At last she hurst out argumentatively, “Well, of course, it is very, very fine; but surely it ought to be, when he spent a life time over it.” “How do you mean?” I replied. “Why, look at the title plate—‘King Chas. First, by Van Dyke, B (begun) 1509, D. (done) 1641.’” My shouts of laughter brought up a scandalised janitor, who had never heard any one so irreverent as to laugh in the gloom of the National Gallery, and it was two pins, evidently, if we should not be ejected. Only when I was quite weak could 1 cateh the indignant voice of my friend saying, in a fierce whisper, “Of course, now I can see—the B. and D. mean born and died; but you needn’t have made a spectacle of yourself.” The same friend—a most eharming girl, who much enjoyed her visit—convulsed me on another occasion. She was as delightful and well educated as most well-bred and brought-up colonials are, and completely fascinated her many English hosts and hostesses by her freshness and her exceedingly obvious enjoyment of everything. But, like most of our girls out here, she was given to colonial slang expressions, some of which were, of course, little known at Home, where, however, the girls talk their own slang dreadfully. Well, it was. at a dinner party,

—a very large and rather solemn one, too—given by the head of the family in honour of several of us who happened to be visiting “Home” after years in different parts of the world. My friend was taken in by a very prim and precise bachelor uncle of mine, an old gentleman of the old school of “prunes, prisms, and plums,” and most punctiliously polite, and, as such old gentlemen do, paid high-flown compliments. He had just paid a dozen of these to my irrepressible and exceedingly pretty friend, and in answer to one more extravagant than the last, she answered at the top of her jolly laugh, “Now, dear Mr. G . do stop, for goodness’ sake. You're pulling my leg, and if you do it so hard my shoe will come off.”

It just happened there was one <rf those unaccountable pauses in the loud buzz of general conversation, which will happen at dinner parties, and the amazing expression was audible to every soul. There, was one. instant of silence, and Chen from young and old such a roar of laughter that the glasses shook again. Even the well-trained servants had much ado to preserve their gravity, and a young footman rushed from the room with the-sauce he was handing'round at the time. As for me, I behaved disgracefully, and rolled to and fro on my chair perfectly helpless; but if you had seen the horror, embarrassment, and apprehensiveness with -which that violently startled old gentleman regarded his. blushing partner, I think you would have shared my lapse from grace. All attempts at explanation only resulted in fresh convulsions. She began: “I only meant,” etc.,, etc., only to arouse hysterical outbursts. However, what had promised to be a somewhat formal dinner developed into one of the most joyous functions we enjoyed in the Old Country. Eater the old gentleman became vastly attached to his astonishing young connection, but for the rest of that dinner he certainly regarded her with something like terrified apprehension, as if wondering if she would, so to speak, go off again. I was interested to hear of the accident to your ship. Your mother was very right: if strong minds take a stand like that the weaker ones follow, and p/inie is avoided. Once my mother and father and two sisters were going from Alexandretta to Joppa in awretched Grecian steamer, and the screw shaft broke. It was dreadfully rough, and a number of third-class '1 urkish emigrants on board threatened to rush the boats. They drifted nearer and nearer the coast, and father said he thought there was no hope. Mother, who was an excellent sailor, went round comforting all, and then, though she could scarcely keep her seat at the saloon piano, played hymns. Just when things (seemed hopeless the wind changed, and blew strongly off shore, and some hours after another steamer catne in sight and rendered assistance. It was -a stirring experience, but my mother, who was • jrcat traveller, only used to think of

the comic parts of it. such as a man passionately demanding his luggage, and exhibiting a huge belt of sovereigns round his waist, which my mother told him flatly he was « fool to wear. She never seemed to think she’d been rather plucky herself. Well. I must stop now, as I have an accumulation of other work to overtake.—Cousin Kate.] + 4* ♦ Dear Cousin Kate,—-Thank you for posting Dora's letter on to me. I was glad to hear from her once more, and had given up hopes until her last letter arrived. I was astonished to see she had screwed up enough energy to write to you also; that is very unlike her. Lately there have not been many letters in the cousins’ page, and it is not so interesting as usual. Some of the cousins must be feeling lazy, I suppose. I have a letter from Violet Tate thanking the cousins.for all the letters and postcards they sent her, ami I want to know if you will be so good as to put it in "The Graphic,” as I will send her the paper it is printed in. Three of our family have been in bed with that jolly illness influenza, which none of us have ever had before. I recovered quite soon, and was able to go to town in a few days, but the others stayed in bed longer, as they were worse. It is the first time any of us have been the least bit ill since we arrived, so we can’t grumble much. Everyone in Capetown has a cold, though the weather is quite warm and sunny, without any rain. I saw the “Cingalee” on Saturday night, and enjoyed it immensely. The tea-girls looked so pretty, and the scenery was good, while the little Cingalee herself was lovely. We heard Mark Hambourg on Monday night—he is very wonderful, and hardly seems human he plays so marvellously. He is small, with lots of black hail’ that comes all over his face while he plays.* I suppose you have seen and heard him. Madge enjoyed hearing Gerardy on the ’cello far more, because he made you feel something. Benno Seherek played second sonic of the time. The hall was packed even the eight boxes, and at the back people were standing. Hambourg played in the new Town Hall, which is a handsome building, opened last month. The bank dance was held there, and also the hospital ball last week, when the Jjoxes were taken for a large sum each. Some people objected, but as it was for charity they had to give in, because such a lot more money was made by hiring the boxes. It is hospital Saturday this week, so we will have the excitement of trying to dodge the girls with boxes. They begin by boarding the cars on their way to town full of people, and they leave off at about eight o’clock. Everybody is supposed to give something to every box, and the men have a terrible time trying to escape from the girls they know if they have already given as much or little as they intend, though, of course, they prefer to put something into the boxes held by the girls they do know. My brother and I went to see some inad thing called “Who’s Brown?” and I don’t know now who is. It was funny, and terribly silly as well. This month I am quite stumped for news of any sort, and don’t seem to be able to scratch enough together to fill a letter, as I expect you are saying to yourself a h eady. We have not even been for any rides since Sunday week, though the boys went to Komraetje to see the wreck, and brought home some candles as a memento of their visit. They said the beach was thick with wreckage from the ship, and candles were knee-deep. I would like to have gone, but could not ride so far. Next time I think of going half-way by train and meeting the boys afterwards at the station. 1 have been reading "No Name,” which is the only one of Wilkie Collins’ books I have read. 1 think it is gland, with such lots in it. and never a bit uninteresting, though it is very long. I have begun the "Woman in White” now, and like it too. Last month 1 got a copy of the "Benefactress," by (lie author of “Elizabeth and Her German Garden.” ami enjoyed it very mueh. It is well written, and you can’t help liking the benefactress herself, though she does make a muddle of things. Now 1 am

reading “The White Causeway,” by Frankforte-Moore. It is about a girl who lost her memory after being nearly drowned, and seems entertaining, which is more than “Castle Omeragh” is, by the same author. I had “A New Idea” from Cousin Winnie by lust mail, and found it very interesting. It is such a nice magazine, with plenty to read in it. It was good of Winnie to send me a copy, and I thunk her now, as I won’t be writing again to her until I get her asnwer to my last letter. We began our correspondence with the idea of writing in

shorthand, but 1 think forgot all about that. J have another girl in my office now, and am very glad, as when we have spare time we are able to talk, and before she came it was always rather dull not speaking for such a long time, unless I addressed the machine or electric light. At present we have nothing whatever to do all day. and find it rather deadly, as the time drag* a good deal, but next month we will have plenty of work, for which 1 will be truly thankful. She is going to give me a pair of pigeons today, so I will have quite a number of pets in time. Two of my little birds got out of the cige, and 1 could not catch them again. 1 will not see them now, and it is some time since they flew away. The canary pretends to be making a nest, and sits all day on a piece of green thistle. She has been preparing the nest for weeks, and always starts all over again. My sister Madge has left the “Argus” now, and is learning shorthand and typing at the Yost. She taught herself theory, and is learning spty»d very quickly, and will be-able to take a position as shorthand writer quite soon. She was tired of incessant reading, and it was not good for her eyes. She will miss the press tickets for the theatre. I think. The pigeons have arrived, and are very pretty. They are black and white, with a ruffle of feather round their heads which are white. I hope the cat does not eat them, or that anything happens to them, as it does always to our pets. They will be very frightened when I take them in the car, though they are covered up in a basket. This winter has been all fine weather, with hardly any rain, so I don’t know what we will do for water in summer. The days are lovely, just cool enough to be pleasant, with no wind. Tt is rather hard on my vegetable garden, which is looking nice now; everything is up and flourishing. The lettuces are nearly ready to pick, and I have tied them up so that they will grow hearts. The roses are lovely in the flower garden, and by the middle of this month will be still better. What a wonderful time you seem to have all been having in Auckland lately. Everything is so gay, or it was when the last “Graphic” arrived. Entertainments are not scarce there this winter. The papers here don't have any social news ever, as they are not advanced enough, and only possess four pages of illustrations, which are usually views of the mountains or tire sea beach. I think there are only two illustrated weeklies, and very dry they seem, with old news from the whole week and nothing fresh. Now. dear Cousin Kate, I have no more to tell you, for which you should be thankful, because even this mueh is dry. isn’t it? Still, I like to write once in six weeks or a month, even though I have little to say. With love to the cousins and yourself from Cousin Alison. [Dear Cousin Alison. —I am glad Dora’s letter arrived safely. T don’t wonder it was a surprise; she does not write often. I think it was the holidays that upset the cousins, and for weeks scarcely any of them wrote; luckily they have recovered, and are writing regularly again now. J was very glad to have Violet's letter. More than one of the cousins were wondering what had become of her. Capetown must agree with you all it this is the first illness you have had. I am sure you would have had influenza half a dozen times if you had stayed here. The “Cingalee” has not been here yet, but I believe it is coining soon. I am looking forward to it. I have had the score, and know most of the songs ; but that is not a bit the same thing as seeing it acted. 1 heard Mark Hambourg when he was here, and thought his playing was more wonderful than beautiful. I quite agree with Madge. I just, loved listening to Gerardy; 1 would have liked him to play all night. T have not seen “Who’s Brown ?” but do you remember how everybody laughed at “What Happened to Jones”? We all laughed till we were ill, and when we came home wondered what on earth we had laughed at. I suppose this is very much the same sort of thing. Some of Wilkie Collins* books I love; but the next I read makes me angry. I liked the “Woman in White” immensely, but 1 have not read “No Name.” I must get it. Do you know I was much disappointed in “The Benefactress.” I think 1 heard too much about it beforehand, and expected too much. Don’t you like Frankforte-Moore’s books? 1 do. I think “They Call It Love” is splendid, so is his “Damsel or Two.” 1 am sure you would like them. The roses are all coming out here too, and the tini-rose bushes are just a mass of bloom already. Auckland has been very gay this year. Such crowds of

dances and something at the theatre all the time, which is lexely. I like the theatre better than anything I think, don’t you?—Cousin Kate.J 4* + b Dear Cousin Kate.- 1 suppo c \ oil will wonder at the address, but we have just ended a lovely tour on the tout incut liefore leaving toy New Zealand, which we do on October 19th, so I do nut suppose 1 shall sec this in print until I am there. First of all, from London we went to Brussels, stayed there a couple of nights, and went on to Cologne. We went over the Cathedral ami di.»\c over the town, then left by b; at Io go up the Rhine. I must say I was very dis appointed with the scenery of the latter. We got oil’ the boat at Bingen. ami took the train to Frankfurt, where we st ye»l three days, and made ex.u rsio’us from there to Wiesbaden and Homburg, most awfully pretty places. We next went to Berlin, and stayed there two .l.iy<. and oji one we went to Potsdam, where we went over three palaces, including the present Emperor’s; and there t lure is a wonderful room, all made of niim-ras. Our next move was to Leipsic, when* we were for one day. and thru went on to Munich, and after to luike Constance, which is one of the prettie t pans I have ever seen. Next wp went to Zurich and Lucerne, and had a l>\ry jourmy from the latter place to Int-ert ik< n. We crossed the Brannen Pass, and when at the top w e were up 10.1 Ob feet. Of course, the scenery was prrCi-tly magnificent. We made two lovely excursions from Intertaken one to the Murren and the other right up to the foot of the Snow Mountains. Oh! t was <o!d there. We walked and tobogganed over part of a glacier, and ended tip by go ng i:.to an ice grotto; and it was Ctniply beautiful. We left the next day lor L-iu •aniie. which place I like immensely. Then we went to Heidelberg, and again to Cologne, and then Amsterdam. F.ou tin' latter we made an e.xi ur-ion to the r! -an est village in the world, and it -o pretty and quaint: wo also wen! <> a i island where the people live anil ilnss now exactly as they did 300 y.ars a2<». It was most awfully int errs t ing. We left Amsterdam and went on to lla?u-‘. Antwerp, and now heir (Ostend), an I leave to-morrow for London; so w<* -in eerely hope it will be nice an I c Im to cross the Channel. It seems so cxcii ing to think we shall be in Au.-k and this Christmas. It will then be nearly four years since we left. W« go in th? lonic, as we think the direct \o\age will be nicer for our babies. I c old have made this letter much longer, but am sorry to say 1 have not firn-, -<> must now stop. With love from Cousin Roie, London. [Dear Cousin Roie. I am going to post this paper to Hobart, so that you will be able to see what we are all doing in Auckland before you get here. \\ hat a lovely tour you have had! I don’t wonder it is some time since we had a letter from you. No one could be both (‘red writing letters when travelling like that. 1 wonder what you will th nk of Auckland after all 'these years of inter est? 1 fear it will seem ♦lull at first. But there have been many improvements since you left, and then the harbour and surroundings are “things of beauty.” and therefore, aeeording to the poet. ”a

joy for ever.” J saw your old house pulled down the other da\. Il leases such a huge gap- The building of the new place will be most interesting for your mother and you, will it not? I love planning new places and tlceora tions. ] hope when you have settled down you will find time to write again, and not feel you arc now’ too “grownup.” The cousins are always so inter ested I should lie sorry if you ceased th send an occasional letter. Cousin Kate.} 4* •F + Dear Cousin Kate, Thank you very much indeed for the beautiful po^t.-cards yon have sent me, also for the letters. Lt has been such a pleasure to me receiving them. J think New, Zealand must be a very beautiful and intme-ting country. Also, 1 thank Cousin Kale very much indeed for her kindness in putting it in the “New Zealand Graphic.” —Yours truly, Violet Tate. |Dear Cousin Violet,—l am so glad that you admire the post-cards. <>•

course, we all think New Zealand lovely , but really quite apart from Ihe fact that it is our home. New Zealand is beaut iful. fit course, it is quite ugly in sonic parts, hut what country 'isn’t ? You don’t know how delighted I was to

hear from you tigaiil. Sl, me uf the consins Imvc been making most anxious inquiries about you: they will be very glad to sop your letter. You really have iiothiii" to thank mo for. I want all

your letters amt would like Io have cousins in every part of the globe. Letters from outside places, as well as. being intciesting, enlarge our ideas. wh’ch is

very good for us. I am sure all the cousins feel the same, (.•(hh’iii Kate.]

Ih ar Cousin Kate. Since I last wrote to you I have been having a grand time up at \\■hangarci. Seeing I was holidaymaking, I hope you will forgive me for not writing the last few weeks. \\ ell.

now. J will try and give you an account of where I went, ami what 1 saw, etc. Last Wednesday fortnight was the evening we went by the. Ngapuhi to Whangarei, and as the sea was as smooth as glass, we had a lovely trip. After being about eight hours on board

the Xgapuhi wc were met near Whangarei Heads by the Coromandel, which conies out. to tender the Ngapuhi when the tide is low. The latter boat cannot reach the Whangarei wharf at low tide. Well, we had to embark on the Coromandel. and at last reached W hangaTei railway wharf, and then we went in the train to the Whangarei station, at. the back of which is the township. The place in which I was staying most of the time was situated out of the township of Whangarei, and in order to get there one had to go by train. While in the train wc passed the Tlikurangi limestone rocks, which were very quaint. 1 do not think it is necessary for me <o describe them, as one of the ‘•Graphic” vousins has already done so. One day during my stay in the country I went through a timber mill. Although the mill was not working when I went through it. I could thoroughly understand how those huge kauri logs are transformed into timber. And a very interesting process it seems to be. At the side of this mill is a dam, which I saw tripped during my short stay up there. Last time I was up there I saw one of. if not the, largest dams in New Zealand tripped. Before*. coming to 'Auckland again we spent a number of days in Whangarei. While wie were there we went tin (High some hothouses, but the' grapes were all green, so ,w;e couldn't get any. AVc were, a little too

«arly with our visit for the grapes to be ripe. 1 think it is lovely to see all Ihe ripe grapes in the vinery, do you not. Cousin Kate? Bid it makes one wish one could sit down and just eat them all or attempt to. I should say. Wc had a day trip coming home (Tuesday it .was), but the weather was horrid. so'that spoilt everything. We also had a few wot days towards the end of our holiday, but I •tiiink we were pretty lucky only' having so few, do you not? As it was so wet to-day, we had a two o’clock day from school, and we get a hall holiday to-morrow, as it is the Tiafalgftr centenary. Is not this week’s “Graphic,” interesting, with a number of pictures of the Battle of Trafalgar in it? <>ur Christmas holidays will, soon roll round now. I suppose, and I do not think I will be sorry, as school gels very tiring at times; though I should not, say that yet, when I have only just gone back to school after having a holiday. I am not greedy, but I like a lot. that’s all! Well, dear Cousin Kate, I must say' good night, with much love io you and all the cousins. From Cousin Firene, Poiisonby. | Dear Cousin Ki it no.— I can easily’ forgive you for not writ ing when you were basing such a lovely holiday. Ilow lmiky you were to have such a good trip up; it is generally horrid al this time of the ycir. Isn’t the transhipping a bother? Tint it can’t be helped. I suppose. I once vent through a limber mill when it was •working, ami I thought it was wonderful. I have never seen a big dam tripped - it must be very interesting to watch. When you were in Whangarei did you not see any grapes grow n out of doors? AV here I was staying last year some people had live acres in, vines, and they' look two and a-half lons oil* a-quarter of an acre. Of course, it was an exceptionally good crop. \Vc went in ami just ate as many as wc liked, but seeing so manv of them soon made us tired of

rating them. But you can scarcely imagine what hundreds and ;hundreds of bunches there were. and I think they 1 ’ taste much nicer 1 han lud.-hpuse grapes; they have more flavour. , AVere you seasick coining home? You certainly were

furliiimtc having so few wet days in the holidays. 1 know quite well how you

feel about school: it is horrid going back after you have been for a good holiday. It seems so frightfully monotonous, and such a weary waste of time; but it has to be gone through somehow. The only

thing is to make the best of it, and think of the holiday’ time that is coming.—Cousin Kate.j

Dear Cou.-in Kale.— I had such a nice Jong letter from Cousin Ethyll last Mon-

day. and the Friday before I received A post-card from her. So now I have written to her and -cut her two post-cards. We have had auntie and Alec, staying with us from Xgaruawahia. Alec, is such a dear little chap, ami so good. Do you

think that we are ever going to have any tine weather again? I am-tired of carrying my eoat to school, and if I go without it it is sure to rain. I was up at my auntie’s at Mount Roskill the other day. and Eileen and I had some line games. I was very interested in Cousin Lyn’s description of the cat con-

cert. AVe frequently have one. only have no platform for the performers. I must stop now;, as I have no more news to tell vou.—Muriel.

[Dear Cousin Muriel, —Your letter is short and sweet this week. Cousin Ethy ll is an indefatigable correspondent. I wish I was as energetic. 1 supose Alec, was too young to be a companion to you, so he had to be only' something to play with? Cousin Lyn’s letters are very' amusing, aren’t they? And his description of the cats’ concert was just killing. AVe all laughed till wc were tired over it. I really think the summer is coming in real earnest now; the last few days have been so very hot. J know I used to hate taking a coat to school, and always forgot it if I possibly' could; and my' umbrella always would blow inside out. Doesn’t yours? —Cousin Kate.J 4- 4- 4-

Dear Cousin Kate.—l have plenty’ of news to tell you, if I can gather it together. You wanted to know wSat lessons T have to do. Wen. x always have school lessons, for in the country we do not have holidays. We will not haye our. exam, until December. The other evening I went out into the gardening place, and caught a hundred sfiails. .o We are haying very showery weather, and the frogs are croaking in the river. Yesterday 1 went to .look for birds’ nests, hut I only found old ones. T always take one egg out of each nest. I have a thrush, but it does not sing yet. I had one before, and it was a good singer. 1 went hens’ nesting, and I found one with eleven eggs in it. My father found one with eight eggs in it- We cut the lambs' tails off to-day'. I had to hold them, and catch them. On Friday w? had a holiday. AVe went to school in the morning, and some gentlemen told us about the Battle of Trafalgar. The Paparoa footballers won in the match against Matakohe. The ground there was covered with thorns. Our dog is named Wrattle, and J took him for a swim this morning. He likes the water. Sometimes he catches on willow branches, and then he falls into the water. Wc have got a new; calf, and it nearly died, but we blew .wind into it with the bellows. AVhen he has finished his milk, he dashes up against the wall of the shed, ami sucks it. I collect stamps, but have not got many . My sister has a great many. I often paint pictures in water colours. 1 bought a postcard from the store, and I am going to enlarge, it. I do a lot. of drawing. The calf is named Red Rooney. There arc plenty of thrushes about, and they can find the snails better than I can. It is good fun watching them crack the shell- You must excuse me for not writing on the lines, for I am so tired I can hardly see. I must close now, with love to yourself and all the cousins.—l remain. Liudsie. | Dear Cousin Lindsie, —AA’hy don’t you have any holidays? I thought all schools had them; I am glad I went to school ; in town. 1 love hearing the frogs ‘croaking, io lie in bed and hear the wckas crying and the frogs is just perfect, I think. AVhen wc used io go out to look for birds' nests we used only' to take one egg. too, because it seemed so cruel to take them all. You were not very fortunate in * your search for cither birds’ nests or for hens*. 1 don't know how you could stay anywhere near the place where they were cutting oil the lambs*

tails, let alone stay where you eould see it. 1 don’t think it would be iiiueli fun playing football on a ground covered with thorns. What sort of a dog is Wrattle —a spaniel or a terrier? that poor little calf—l should think it would rather die than be blown up like that. It must l>e a very valuable one, as you are taking such trouble to keep it alive. I have often watched tile thrushes killing snails. It is wonderful, they go about it in such a business-like way. Do you ever find any peacocks’ feathers? Once, when I was staying up your way, we found hundreds of them, and brought ever so many home. They were such beauties.—Cousin Kate.] Dear Cousin Kate, —I see that Cousin Hilda wants a recipe for Turkish delight and cocoanut ice. Well, my sister says the following are very good. Turkish delight: Soak 2oz gelatine in breakfast cup of cold water for one hour, put 21b sugar in saucepan with half-cup water, bring to the boil, add gelatine, stir well and boil two or three minutes: take off fire, and add a little citric acid, a desertspoonful of brandy, essence lemon, and cochineal, and pour in buttered piedish; leave 12 hours, and

then roll in icing sugar. Cocoanut ice: Two breakfast cups of crystal sugar, seven tablespoonfuls cocoanut (desiccated). Boil all for 7J minutes, take off tire and stir till thick, and colour half with cochineal. Did you see the Labour Day procession, dear Cousin Kate? I did, and I thought it was very good. As I joined the cadets company the other day I had to parade with the others on Friday afternoon (Trafalgar Day). We were supposed to meet at the Free Library at 1 p.m., and march to the Drill Hall, where we had to wait a considerable time. After this we marched out of the Drill Hall Grounds, up Wellesley-street, down Lower Symonds-street, and into the Metropolitan Grounds, where we saluted the Hag. Then we received orders to inarch round Waterloo-quadrant, down Prinecs-street, and then Shortlandstreet, along Queen-street, and up Wel-

lesley-street again, and right into the Drill Hall this time. Here we were addressed by. the Mayor. 'After this Air Cooper’s cinematograph showed us many pietures of our once brave sailor, Lord Nelson. As it was all over, four friends of mine and myself walked into town, went over one of the large boats, and walked home via Grafton-road. Yes. the baby has a pertty name. I should like very much to travel in Hie Delphic. I. seldom go. down those numerous steps in the C?emetery Gully, but when I go to town I walk down Graf-ton-road. When my auntie returns from Springwood, New South M ales. I think she is coming to pay us a visit, so then Will be the time for joy. Now, dear Cousin Kate, 1 must say goodbye, with fondest love to all the cousins and yourself, from your fond cousin, J la-.old. (Dear Cousin Harold,—l am sure Cousin Hilda will be delighted to have the recipes, and I must copy them out for myself, as I love sweet's don't you, and often make toffee just for myself. I think the Labour Day procession was very good indeed, and some of the exhibits were very funny. What a Jot of marching you had to do last Friday. Weren't you very tired in the evening? 1 suppose you enjoyed the cinematgraph very mueh. Did you go to see West’s Pictures? I went three or four times, and thought they were wonderful- 1 don’t wonder you go right down Graf-ton-road instead of going down ami up those gully steps, they are awful.— Cousin Kate. | •t + + Dear Cousin Kate, —With the. more settled weather things in general are beginning to lose their almost deadly dulness in this corner of the globe. It is a great treat to awake in the early morning, and see Hie golden sunlwanis peeping through the window, instead of watching the steady drizzle, drizzle of the rain falling from a sky which is dark and sombre as blackest night. This last has been, our portion until the beginning of last week. However, the rain was after all a blessing in disguise, for the gardens and trees and lawns, and. in fact, all nature lias acquired a freshness, and greenness which befote the rain was pitifully lacking. A

short time ago I went for a lovely walk up to the Convalsceiit Home, which is situated on a plateau on the side of th'’, hill. It was late afternoon, and an day the rain had fallen at short into • vals, but the rain had now cleared o, «. and the sun, a veritable God-send, shon • down upon the drenclied earth. Tii<‘ hedges of gorse were out in bloom, amt smelled dblieious, after the rain. Th ■ road to the foot of the hill looked Itw - Jy. lined on either side by the g"rs.dripping with rain, and sparkling i i the sunlight. The sky was a soft tu quoise blue, with here and there a few fleeting white clouds sailing across the blue. A turn in the road brought int > view the Home. It is a great red brie : and stone building, with many quain towers and turrets. The afternoon su i bathed it in a soft golden haze, and th : purple hills behind rose up like grea giants. At last 1 reached the grea? white gates of tie Home, and as 1 was going in to see a friend. 1 followed the visitors' path, which winds round and round steep banks until the terrace is reached. This path is very narrow, not more than two people being able to walk abreast, and on the banks above many sweet-smelling Spring flowers still bloomed in rich profusion. Down below the bank shelved down to a deep gully, in which grew fir and other trees. The sides of the bank were covered with a profusion of peri-winkles, which were now a mass of rich blue star-like flowers. Each little flower held a drop of rain, which sparkled and gleamed in the sun like so many diamonds. 1 did not stay long at the Home, as 1 wanted to get home before the sun went down and it became Cold. I have not enjoyed a walk so much for a long time. I must not forget to tell you about another picnic, which we girls in our gym. class went for. We chose a place called ‘•Wainoni,” which is a favourite picnic place here. It is owned by Professor Bickerton. and is situated about halfway to New Brighton. It was a p rfect day. sunny and warm, and consequently we were all in the very best of spirits. We left town bv the 9 a.m. car, and arrived at "Wainoni a little after 9.30. A path, about half a, mile in length, leads through a great fir plantation, and this has to be traversed before the pi--sure-grounds ami the house are readied. It is a most Iv-autifnl place. The gardens are large, and the flowers are pir-

feet. ’The house itself, which is a .low building, painted white and surrounded by broad verandahs and innumerald.s

conservatories, stands on the top of a flight of terraces laid out in lawns. Each terrace is ascended by a flight of stone steps, and it is altogether one of the most quaint old-world places 1 have ever seen. Front the front verandah there is a fine view of th? river. The conservatories were marvels of beauty, all kinds of hot house flowers and shrubs were blooming in profusion. In the grounds there is an art gallery, filled with lovely paintings in oil and wa-ter-colour. The gallery is a real Maori whare, and it also contains numerous Maori curios and fine specimens of N.?w Zealand birds, stuffed, of course. After visiting the art gallery, we repaired to another whare where there were several specimens of ‘'lightning sketching"’ on the walls. One of Mr Bickerton’s sons is an artist, and it is he who does the “lightning sketches.” He draws your portrait in about 7 minutes. That is rather quick work, is it not? When we had been over the grounds we had our lunch under the trees, and after lunch we had our photos, taken in six’ different positions. In three of these we wore our gym. costumes, which we had brought for the purpose. J would send you one, Cousin Kate, but there are none of them very good, at least not good enough for production. They are too dark 1 think. We had some races in the afternoon for boxes of chocolates, and after that we went over to the shooting range. 1 am a fearful shot. I could not even hit the target at less than a hundred yards. We had great fun. Several of the girls were quite good shots. We had our fortunes told too. That was the best of all. though of course it is only nonsense. I was condemned to a life of single blesscdiiicss, and told that I was going to be a missionary. Have I not a pleasant prospect before me? In the evening we had an impromptu concert, and after that there were fireworks on the lake.

They were really excellent, the best I have seen. Mr Bickerton, who is om- of the gym. instructors, gave an exhibition of electric club-swinging. All the lanterns, which were hanging from the trees, were put out, and the -effect was weirdly beautiful. We reached home about 10.30, so you can guess we were tired. Last Friday night we had our break-up social,-and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.“ I am so sorry the gym. season is over. I wonder if you like S. R. Crockett’s books. 1 have read " rhe Lilac Sunbonnet” and “Kit Kennedy.” 1 like file latter best. I think it is one of the prettiest books I have read. I. am going to read “Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City” when I get time. I read Allen Rai lie’s “Hearts of Wales” last week. I like her others very much better. I was fending th,? Tasmanian “Courier” this morning, and I find our Victorian cousin. Cousin Ethyl! Cuthbert, writes to the "Courier” too. I was surprised to see her letter. Well, dear Cousin Kate, I must bid adieu for the present. —Your loving cousin", Winnie, Christchurch.

| Dear Cousin Winnie.—Cousin Alison says in her letter that she thinks they will be short of water in the slimmer. 1 don’t think we need fear anything of the sort, do you? Really the weather for the last month has be,?n dreadful, but thank goodness, it has cleared at last, and the last" two or three days have, been lovely, and so hot that every - body is beginning to wear their summer clothes. The Convalescent Home must be situated on an ideal spot, as the view sounds perfectly dowdy. • I think you must be very fond of picnics as you go to so many, though ■ your visit to “Wainoni” could scarcely be called picniking. it was more like a fete. What a. lovely May you must had. 4 I would so like to go through thus? whare*. I love Maori curios, don’t you? What a pity the photos, were not a success. I should have liked to semi them very much. Having one's fortuirtold is always good fun. even though you don’t believe a word of it. You must have been very tired at the end of the day J can quite imagine. “Cleg Kelly” is very good. 1 read it some time ago and enjoyed it thoroughly; unlike you 1 preferred “The Lihie Sunbonnet” to "Kit Kenuery, but Crockett's best is "The, Raiders’.’ I think. All Allen Baine’s are good mid so very pretty. . ( oti'in Ethyll is a wonderful correspondent. I should think she must spend half her time writing.—Cousin Kate.j

Dear Cousin Kate, —Last week I. got to the end of the eats’ tale, ami promised to tell you about Darkey. You have mentioned that many stray cats eame to your house for a refuge. Weil, at one time we seemed to get all the stray (logs, sonic of them fine ones—one a grand collie. But they . usually departed again without leave. This was some years ago, when droves of sheep used to be driven along the street, and they would go off with the drove without even saying thank you for the favours they had received. One. however, more discerning, 1 suppose, than the others, decided to remain with us. She was quite young, little more than a pupjiy, and was an uncommon breed of deg, something like a retriever, but only about the size of a terrier. She had a lot of sense, and the best ma liners I have ever known a dog to have. Father said dogs of her kind used to be brought, round the villages in England, trained to perform wonderful tricks. The dog’s owner would make the crowd of children stand around in a wide circle, and after some circus performance, such as jumping through

hoops, turning somersaults, riding on each other's backs, finding hidden articles. ete., he would ask one to point out the boy that licked out the treacle-pot, or which girl liked being kissed, and such like. The dog would look round the crowd, and instantly walk up to and stand before one of the children, and his choice was wonderfully shrewd and caused roars of laughter. Father taught Darkey to put out her right paw to shake hands 'when he said to lier. "How do you do. Darkey?” but if you wanted her to shake hands several times in succession she would not. She •seemed to imply that repeated handshaking was foolish. She had been with us two. or three months when Christmas eame, and for Boxing Day father suggested that instead of going on one of the steamer excursions as usual we should hire a boat for the day, and

spend the time rowing or sailing about the harbour. We had invited two young friends from Parnell to spend the day -with ns, and we all —father, my brother Alan, our visitors, and myself — —went down to St. Mary’s beach, taking Darkey with us. Arrived at the beach the weather 'suddenly changed, a dense mist came down the harbour, which turned to a fine small rain, and lasted about an hour and a half. While waiting to see if the weather would clear we met two other chums, who wished to go with us, so the boatowner brought us a 22ft. boat with mast and sail lashed to it. We had four oars, and pulled oil", but soon found we did not know much about rowing. We could not pull together. There would be two strokes pulled on one side to one on the other; then perhaps three on the other side to one or two on mine; and we caught enough .crabs to stock a fish shop, and made a course something like that of a, drunken man. However, we managed to progress in some fashion till we got out into the stream, then we began to drift down the harbour rapidly till we were abreast of Hobson-street Wharf. Then father took the oars, and polled us back to Ponsonby. We found we could not manage the rowing with any certainty, each blaming the other, until there was something of a hubbub, and we did not know how to set the sail. We got the boat owner to come and

fix it for us. He showed us how to hold the line so as to manage the sail, and away we glided gently and smoothly until we got from under the lee of the land. Then we found a very still" breeze had sprung up, blowing right, across the harbour, and we were in it all right. The pressure on the sail nearly pulled the line out of our hand, so wo fastened it to the boat. The further we got out the fiercer blew the wind, and were going a line pace out toward the Watchman Island. Then the sail began to tear from the mast. It was too old to stand such a wind. I went to it. and held the broken part to the mast as long as I could, but it. kept tearing more and more away, and Happed dangerously, till it got too much for me. When the sail began to break one of the boys we had taken in on the beach proved to be of poor pluck, and began to cry and beg to go back, and as his clamour was making the other boys timid, father said we could only-

go forward, as we could nut turn the boat safely, and if he did not stop his noise he would throw him out. But

owing to the sail giving way, and being

such dabs at rowing, we were in something of a pickle. Father was -.leering for Chelsea, but when vve got near enough to see we perceived that it. would be impossible to go near the wharf, the sea was breaking on it so roughly. Alan and 1 got the sail down, and we held a little bit of it to the wind, but we were being tos,ed by big waves. Father thought he might be able to .work the boat into Xortheote on the drift, but. we nearly got in the way of a ferry boat. At last we persuaded father to let us try the oar* again, and whether it. was the danger, or what, we managed to row much better, and presently made the enhance of ( helsea Bay. The boys who had been weeping copiously for some time now dried up, and liarkey, who had been for some time standing up in the boat with her paws’on the gunwale, jumped overboard, and began to swim .strongly toward land. She had apparently- reckoned that she was safer on her own than in a boat with ns. She had a very long swim, but outdistanced ns, ami kept returning to meet the boat. At length we made the shore safely, and had a very enjoyable lime rowing and sailing in the calmer water. Father tied up the sail, ami took a few trial spins to see if we might venture'to cross back in her, but we had to decide that it was too risky, especially as the wind was still blowing strongly, and we should have to cross in lace of it. So we wrote the owner s name in several places on the boat, and then pulled it high on the beach. The oars and tiller we. took awav. as they might have, been stolen. We’then made our way over to Xorthcote, and eame honie by ferry. The owner was somewhat surprised to see us, and his oars. He had missed sight of the boat on the water, and thought .we had gone down. He told Alan and 1 to come down next

Illuming, and be would Like us across with him to fetch the boat buck. Cousin Lyn. | Dear Cousin Lyn, I -imereiy wi-.li the eats that come tn us would depart in peace like those dog- of yours. I would not mind if they went without saying good-bye in the very least, but when they come, they come Io ?tav. Last year we hail five extra eats about the place, and they used to kill I lie chickens and come into the house and steal anything that was on the table, till we got quite desperate. Then father went out early one morning, and something happened (1 did not inquire what), ami we saw them no more. But the sad fate of their friends Ims not stopped the supply, because two new eats arrived hist week, and have settled themselves down quite comfortably. Darkey certainly sounds an uncommon breed of dig." I fion't think I ever saw one like that. Do you know, 1 always feel so sorry for dogs that are made to do tricks. They always look as if they hated it, and felt foolish. 1 remember Boxing Day last year was a horrid day, but really what an awful day you had. I don t wonder your pomlittle friend was frightened.’ Was it the first time yon had tried to row? If so, 1 am surprised that you ever got to land at all, and under those eirctim-stam-es, like -Darkey, I should have preferred to trust to my own efforts, t should not t hink you would care to go out boating again after such a nastv experience. Was not your father very angry with the owner of the boat forgiving you such an awful old sail?. ; should have been. After all I have not heard very much about Darkey this week, so perhaps 1 shall have a more complete history next week, (mi-ir-Kate.)