to hunt and how to fish. Before that, when Indians were all alone and there were no white people in sight, we would dance and sing and stay up all night and have fun. We would swim, and hunt, and go find a lot of food for the winter. On Indian Day we have a chance to go back a little to our old times and celebrate ourselves for one day, and sometimes into the night. A free day for the Indian! It's like having a day at home, at a dance of our own. We are proud to be Indians and know things which others don't know. Indians all over the world are brothers and sisters, but sometimes we fight among ourselves for this and that. And we sometimes hate white people, but I think we should all be treated alike. We all live here on this earth. We are all human beings so we should respect each other as brothers and sisters, including the white people. Both Indians and white people should be grateful for the things we have given each other. I am grateful that we have Indian Day, a day when Indians can be Indian. So if you are an Indian, be what you are, If you are a white, be what you are. Whatever you are, be proud of yourself! Now more contributions from secondary school pupils First, a poem written by Richard Ellison when a 15-year-old pupil at Hillary College. The wind blew swiftly against The cliff face The clouds spat insults to the earth, The sea surged in, thrusting The life from the creatures clinging For their worthless life. The waves hurtled forward— Crushed then burst against The rocky shore, exploding Into a cascade of bright- White orange, Then would slowly creep back Contented. The wind blew on, The clouds went on. The waves surged forward Engulfed all mass Then sneaked back, The cowards. Life was being stirred By some unknown power Destructive Protective — Nature Now one of three stories sent in by Raana Solomon, aged 15, of Spotswood College.

Walking in the Rain It was just the two of us alone, on the Sunday afternoon. We both had leather coats on and long trousers, except his trousers were much longer than mine because they dragged along the ground as we walked. Our hands were clenched tightly together as we strolled along the park. Rain began to fall in a fine powdery mist down over the lake and the bridge we were standing on. The rain settled on his hair and clung onto each strand as though it daren't part from it. Some landed on his black eyebrows and seemed to turn them into a greyish colour, and this made me laugh inside. He seemed to notice my thoughts were about him and asked what amused me so. I told him simply, then a big smirk formed across his face and he said that I looked the same too. We both laughed for a while, but when I kept on about it, he kissed me to stop me saying any more, and next thing I knew we were standing in the pouring rain with our arms about each other. It was a glorious feeling, and how still we stood and stared into each other's eyes. Our hair was drenched and hung down in strands. Rain was running down the whole length of his nose, right to the tip, where it dropped off and spattered down on the lapel of his coat. The pathway through the park was beginning to get slushy so we took care not to slip. Although it was raining quite heavily,