Dot's Little Folk

Otago Witness, Issue 4030, 9 June 1931, Page 69

Dot's Little Folk

qJuljj 16,1886.

Dot invites short letters from her young friends throughout the Dominion on matters of interest to themselves, the result of their observations in the animal world, descriptions of anything they are interested in, of the district in which they live, of their school and home life, holiday trips, etc. The letters are to be written by the little folk themselves, and addressed, “ Dot, care of Editor Otago Witness.” Dot’s Little Folk’s Badge, with pin, for use as a brooch, obtainable on application to Dor. Price, 2s 6d in stamps or postal notes. Auto. Cards are obtainable from Doi?, Otago Witness Office, Dunedin. Price, 9d for 25.

THE WEEK’S POEM.

Everyone of you children at some time or another has made up a sort of song when you have been in a train, I expect, and everyone has felt the pulse and beat of the journey and delighted in it. Here is a poem by John Davidson on a train. Try to read it as if you are keeping time to the “ clickety clack, clickety clack ” of .wheels, and see how exciting it is. —DOT. SONG OF A TRAIN. A monster taught To come to hand Amain, As swift as thought Across the land The train. The song it sings Has an iron sound; Its iron wings Like wheels go round. Crash under bridges, Flash over ridges, And vault" the downs; The road is straight— Nor stile, nor gate; For milestones—towns! Voluminous, vanishing, white,' The steam plume trails; Parallel steaks of light, The polished rails. Oh, who can follow? The little swallow, The trout of the sky; But the sun Is outrun, And Time passed by. O’er bosky dens, By marsh and mead, Fotest and fens, i Embodied speed . Is clanked and hurled O’er rivers.and runnels; J And into the earth And out again, In death and birth That know no pain, For the whole round world Is a warren of railway tunnels. Hark! hark! hark! It screams and cleaves the dark; And the subterranean night Is gilt with smoky light. Then out again apace It runs its thundering race; The monster taught To come to hand Amain, That swift as thought Speeds through the land, The train.

JIM AND BILLY.

By “ Gray Dawn.” A grey light broke over the sea, The last star died away, And the sky put away its veil of night, And wore the crown of day. Ji in Roberts threw back the bedclothes arid went to his open window. A cold breeze met him and fanned his face. Outside the fields were covered in white. He looked up at the sky. It is going to be a nice day, he told himself; it always is after a white frost. Dressing, he washed, then had his breakfast, and helped his mother wash the dishes. In the east the sun was now up above the trees. Water dripped from the bushes and the sheds. The white cloak had gone from the high banks. When the clock on the dresser struck 10 o’clock Jim left the house, and, taking a track around the outside of the orchard garden, he turned his face southward and entered a square paddock. Jini called it his paddock. It was the place he went when tired and his work was done. As long as he could remember he had always gone there. At the top of Jim’s paddock were two green gullies. On its left was a small mountain where tall gum trees grew. On its right side . was a wood, and at the bottom of his paddock was a creek. This day Jim wasn’t contented to linger in his paddock; he wanted to go farther; he felt a call-—the call of the bush. Going to the gullies, he went into the one on his right. “I must go up the main gully now,” he said. “ 1 want a walk.” - Finding a track, he took it. The gully was damp and wet underfoot, but dry

A BALL GAME,

DADDIES.

and sunny on the banks. Jim began to grow tired, but he didn’t rest, as he desired to reach the end of the gully while it was bathed in sun. He was now a long way in the mountains, and presently he came to some pretty green banks. He listened. There was not a sound, only the rustle of the leaves and the song of birds. Then there came to his ear. from somewhere out of the day a voice. “ A lamb,” Jim whispered. “Where can he be? I’m sure it was a lamb.” Holding his breath, he stood listening again. Somewhere there must be a sheep. He looked around him and to the slopes of the mountains. He could see and hear nothing. Using all his skill, he answered in the call of a sheep. It echoed and died away in the distance. He called again. From the side of a mountain a lamb scrambled to his feet and bleated pitifully, and made down to_ meet Jim. In his haste he fell over sticks into holes. Sometimes h’is body got tangled in the wild vines. In his fright he ran round and round Jim, and when Jim would “ baa ” he would come close to him; but when he went to get him he would jump away and stare back at him with big, frightened eyes. Jim coaxed him to try to catch him. He could see the lamb was motherless and was starving. Making one big grab to get him, Jim missed him. The lamb ran, and Jim ran after him. The lamb got tangled in some thick scrub, so Jim got him at last. Cuddling the lamb in his arms, Jim talked to him and petted him until he became quieter. Then he picked the lamb up and carried him to the top of a mountain. It was a steep mountain, and Jim had to sit down and rest under an oak tree. After a time he got up and went on again. The lamb began to grow restless. Jim thought he may be hurting him, so he stood him on the ground. The lamb bleated and smelt at Jim’s clothes. And when Jim walked along the mountain towards home the lamb followed him. Once Jim sat down to give the lamb a rest. He toddled around Jim and smelt his face, then laid down against him. When Jim moved on again the lamb felt too tired to follow him. Jim picked him up again and carried him for nearly a mile. “Now, little fellow,” he said, “ see if you can walk now.” The lamb tried to follow Jim, but he was weak and hungry after his. long journey. Taking the lamb in his arms. Jim hurried on. It had grown cold, and the sun was setting when Jim reached home. That night Jim gave his orphan lamb a bottle of warm milk and found a warm bed for it under the laurel tree in the garden. Jim had saved the lamb from a crueL death in the lonely mountains. When Billy grew stronger he would go with Jim to his paddock. He loved to go there to nibble a green bush or try his teeth on a piece of dry wood. If he happened to be eating on the grass about the house and saw Jim go out and sit in the shade of the dairy wall he would leave off eating and come and lie beside Jiin. Billy’s bed he had found himself now under the grinding stone beneath a big gum tree, and he was happy and quite contented to stay always at his new home.—Weekly Times.

Here is a good game for the playground:— Players stand in two rows, about a foot apart, facing each other. A player at one end pats a ball to the player opposite, who must pat it back to the second player in the line, and he in turn must return it to Number Two opposite. The ball must be kept in the air. Any player who lets it-fall, thus breaking the chain, is sternly requested to spell some chosen word backwards. If you have ever tried this you will know that it is not exactly easy. If he or she makes a mistake in the backward spelling, that player is “out”; but if spelled correc + ly he is allowed to remain in the line. The game continues until all the players save one are “ out,” and naturally that player is the winner., ’

Nurse’s daddy drives a bus; Cook’s daddy drives a train; The gardener’s dad keeps hens and pigs At the bottom of our lane; The chauffeur’s dad’s a railway guard; Jane’s daddy goes to sea; My daddy sits at home and writes—■ It does seem dull to me. —Margie Callander-Rule.

TO ALL. Dear Little Folk,—Another set of interesting letters from you again this week! How pleased I am with you! All are good, especially those from Nectar, Well Its Sour, Funny Face, Dot from Australia, Lady Jane Grey, and Nipper's Mistress. I am sure you will enjoy reading them. 10-day I want to tell you something about watches. Watches are becoming so common that it is being forgotten that even the mass production watch sold for half a crown is a marvellous piece of machinery (writes a London jeweller). In our grandfathers’ day a watch was often a family heirloom, passed from father to son, and keeping time as well after 50 years as on the day it left the workshop. To-day watches have a shorter life, not so much because of inferior workmanship as because of the casual treatment to which they are submitted. Every day you should cheek your watch by some standard clock or the wireless time signal. If it shows signs of losing move the regulating lever slightly. Should this fail your watch requires oiling. Any jeweller should be pleased to do this for you for sixpence, and this money is well invested. Consistent losing is nearly always a sign that the oil is drying, and unless fresh oil is provided serious damage may be done. Dirt is the greatest enemy of the watch. If you carry a valuable watch you will be well advised to keep it in a , chamois covering. This may seem old-fashioned, but it will ensure that the dust in your pocket will not work into the mechanism. lhe teeth of the escape wheel strike the pallet stone some 400,000 times a rx Bo ' s n °t surprising that the slightest speck of dust will sometimes stop the watch. When a watch stops altogether it is usually a speck of dust on the escape wheel, and you should make no attempt to wind it, or you may break the mainspring. A broken spring can always be diagnosed from the fact that winding can be continued indefinitely without effect. Pocket watches do not need so much attention as wrist watches. I would advocate a clean once a year for a wrist watch and once every three years for a poekeu watch. Cleaning is often postponed until the watch stops, but this is a mistake, as the bearings may get worn, and the watch lose its efficiency as a result. You should have your watch washed as regularly as you have your hair washed. If you value your watch remove it before you play tennis, hammer nails or perform other violent actions. RememloVinnV- the balance wheel oscillates some 18,000 tunes an hour, and is not built for rough treatment. Again do not put your watch on a marble mantelpiece or washstand, or it will catch cold and start los-n,&-a , may even break inside. Wind your watch regularly at the same time every day. The best time is first thing in the morning. Most people wind their watches at night, but the morning is better, because the watch nets its roughest treatment during the day and lies still at night. It i s better to have the spring tight when it is being jerked and moved. Finally, do not open the back with a nfni tt and Avs t,° (1 ° repairs with a J’ I ?',, „ a .child had appendicitis von would call in a surgeon. When your watch gets something wrong it is foolish to try operating without knowledge of its anatomy. Find a good jeweller—not * y v an expensive one—and be faithful to him. —A our loving DOT.

LETTERS FROM LITTLE FOLK.

Motto.—We write for the benefit of others, not for ourselves. PASSE PARTOUT WORK. asked me to give you the details of passe partout picture framing, so 1 shall endeavour to do so, although 1 am only a novice at it. It reailv consists of gummed strips of coloured paper put round pictures to frame them the passe partout binding can be obtained in a wide variety of colours (red, blue silver gold, brown, black imitation wood, and leather, and many others), and can be so used that the effect produced is that of a wooden frame. Lt is ' ery cheap, and makes an ideal win ter hobby. It can be very interesting, and as one gets on here are endless variations one can work out. To do a simple binding all one requires, for a picture, say abotu 10m by Bin, is a piece of glass and cardboard the same size as the picture, and obtainable for about 5d here, a roll of passe partout (contains about 12 yards as a rule, and costs from 9d to Is), two hangers and paste. First of all, if the hangers are metal, insert thehi in the cardboard (evenly), and paste a small piece'of strong brown paper over the prongs to prevent their -working through the picture. Then cut from the roll of passe partout two pieces, each about half an inch longer than the long side of the picture, and two pieces for the short sides in the same way. Take one of the long pieces, and slightly damp the paper side of the binding, then turn over, and thor oughly wet the cemented side of the binding—it is absolutely essential that this should be done well, or the binding will be inclined to come away from the glass in time. . (Before I found this out I had done three pictures, and the binding came away so badly, that I had to do two of them again.) Leave the wetted binding for about 20 seconds until the moisture has thoroughly saturated it. then take the picture, glass, and backing-board complete, and lay them face downwards on the binding so that a margin overlaps on the face edge of the glass, according to the width one requires, and see that the projecting binding indicates that, the width on the glass is even. This is very necessary as the binding must be even all round. For the. first two strips I generally put needles in the cardboard according to the width I require, and the parts that are sticking out guide me. There are several different ways of getting this even though I am afraid it would take too much room to describe them. However, to resume, when one sees that the binding on the glass is even draw the remaining wet binding over to the back of ithe picture, making it tight and souare -without moving it on'the other side, and press glown well. Then do the other long side of

the picture in the same way. Then, if one wants a properly mitred corner take a 45 degree set-square, put on the face of the glass over the binding with its long edge exactly level with the outside edge of the glass and its angle coinciding with the corner of the glass, and cut through the binding with something sharp from the outside corner inwards, following the setsquare, which must be held down tightly. I have done pictures this way, and also I have dispensed with mitring, and have made a double or overlapping corner, or I have let the first two strips simply coire to the edge of the glass, and mitred the last two at the four corners. This, I think, has been the best way, as it takes some skill to get the edges even in the first method. However, when one does the first method cut away the surplus binding, and leave about one-eighth of an inch, which turns up on to the edge of the glass and cardboard. Then do the two short sides in exactly the same way, mitring the corners to fit exactly the angles already cut, and cut the® surplus ends straight off. The picture is then done. Of course there are more elaborate ways of doing them, .arid there are other methods of putting the binding on, but this is the method I generally use. I learnt it from a small booklet I have on it. It tells one how to do many designs in passe partout, but as I have done onlysimple ones I can only describe such. I frame mostly pictures and covers from the Women’s Magazine, but there are so many nice pictures in books and other magazines, that I do not think one would ever run short of, them. Pictures framed by this method can be. a: real brightening agent to the home,. as -they can be made to harmonise with rooms, and give that tonic effect of “surprising the eyes.” Kind regards to the. Little Folk and yourself. truly,NECTAR (Havelock North). . [I am sure that all my Little Folk will be grateful to you • for your letter, which is one of the best this week, Nectar, for it tells them clearly and plainly how to set about doing a branch of work that evel’yone will be better for knowing about. I myself have never done passe partout framing yet, but, having read what you have to say about it, I feel sure that before very long I shall attempt it. Thank you very much for your interesting description.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥

TO MAKE AN UMBRELLA.

Dear Dot, —As. I have just finished writing to my correspondents I shall now take up my pen and pen a few lines to the page. The picture which I went to see a-t Easter was not a sacred one. It was just a demonstration of a radio, showing how the chassis is made and fitted together. 1

will now describe the way to make an umbrella. For a 19Jin by lOin ribbed umbrella a stick fitted with a handle is first selected. It is then ntted with a ten warded “ runner,” which is loosely fitted against the top spring, and two small holes are made in the stick opposite each other, for the ‘ wind-stoppers” to be put in. These are to prevent the wind from turning the umbrella inside out. A ten warded notch is now fitted with lOin by 19Jin ribs, which are threaded, one by one, into the groove in the notch with thin wire. The stretchers of the ribs are now fitted one by one into the runner wards. The tips on the ribs are fitted one-sixteenth of an inch from the bottom of the handle, and the notch is now pinned off. This now completes the frame of the umbrella. The stretcher joints are padded; a fly-cap is placed over the stick, and the cover is bound the same size as the stick, and placed next to the fly cap. It is now stitched on to the frame by passing the needle hrough the eye of the tip three times. Two ties are now made, one between the tips and the stretchers, and the other one between the stretchers and the notch on each rib. A rosette is made, and sewn on to the runner, and a band is sewn on the cover. A damp cloth is now spread over the umbrella, and each quarter is pressed -with a hot iron. It is folded up, and a rosette is placed over the cover where it has been bound. A “chubby end” to match the handle is now glued on. The umbrella is now completed. Umbrellas are made from 12in to 30in by eight ribs to sixteen ribs. The Milson aerodrome is three-quarters of a mile away from our place. We have been having very fine weather up this way lately, but it is very cold. I wifi close now with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly. WELL IT’S SOUR (Palmerston North). [I was fascinated to learn of the making of an umbrella, Well It’s Sour, and looked at my “ chubby ” with a new respect after I had read your directions of how it was put together. What a great deal of work is necessary in making even the simplest thing! Yet, I suppose, to those who can do it, the work is not hard at all. I thank you very much for your description, which makes your letter one of the best this week.—DOT.] ¥ ¥ ¥ Dear Dot, —Once again I take up my pen to write to your interesting page. We have had some very strong gales lately, which are not at all pleasant. Every morning in school at 9 o’clock my duty for the present is to mark the temperature graph. I am 12 years of age, and occupy a place in Standard VI, and hope to ol>

tain my proficiency. Our class is a very , interesting one, different from most other j classes. We are making friezes for the j wall, which look very attractive at all | times. Basket ball and football have com- | menced for another season in which the ■ houses have a match every week. We , have five bantam roosters and two hens. The hens have not laid any eggs yet. I Mother has 11 pullets, which lay four to ; five eggs a day. My small brother was two years old on May 24. My elder sister’s birthday was on May 28. I am reading a book called “ The Adventures of 'l orn Sawyer,” and have finished reading “ Do Your Duty ” and “ Robin Hood.” As news is scarce I shall close now, having written to benefit others, not myself.— Yours truly,

BLOSSOM OF SPRING (Waimate). [I am glad that you regard my page as interesting, Blossom of Spring. 1 myself think its letters are very interesting. Marking the temperature graph must be an important duty, adding honour even to your being in Standard VI. I am so glad you like being in that standard. Your small brother is almost a birthday gift of your sister’s, is he not? I have read “ Tom Sawyer ” and “ Robin Hood.” —DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Some time has passed since I last -wrote to you, so I think it is time I put in an appearance again. I was at the Band of Hope meeting the other night. We had very funny weather recentlj ; sometimes it blew, sometimes rained, and sometimes there was a clear sky overhead with a very frosty moon shining down. Fleabane and Henbane were attending their late night open-air meeting in Queen street. I am glad to see the Little Folk taking an interest in the page, and hop° the results will keep improving as time speeds by. I have just finished reading “Frank Shelley,” and am now reading “The Black Sheep of the School.” As it is nearing bedtime, and news is scarce, I will close now with love to the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly, MISCHIEF MAY (South Canterbury). [What a beautifully written letter, Mischief May! I wish I could print it as it appears, for it is so neat and pleasing to the eye. I know what sort of a night it was that you describe, and can imagine how interesting it would be to watch the changing sky. Yes, I think the page will keep on improving, for my Little Fo'k are very loyal. What is “ Frank Shelley ” about?—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —We are back at school again after the first term holidays. I helped to take part in two songs for a Band of Hope concert one Friday night. The names of the songs were “ Sowing and Reaping ’ and “ The Minstrel Boy.” There were 10 items altogether. Since last writing to you I have a white duck. The school that I attend held a Paddy’s Market the other day in 'a vacant shop in Queen street They sold marrows, cabbages, carrots, parsnins. pickles, beetroot, jam. and even a little pig. We hear a bellbird whistling near’v every day. It has been blowing for a while, and it is now starting to rain. Love to all Little Folk and yourself.— Yours truly.

VALERIAN (South Canterbury). [Are you glad to be back at school. Valerian? Most children are, no matter how pleasant were their holidays. They seem to like meeting their friends again. I should have liked to hear you sing “ The Minstrel Boy,” which is a favourite of mine. T do not know “ Sowing and Reaping.” What is the name of your duck? I hope your school made plenty of money from the Paddy’s Market.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —I was at a Band of Hope concert one night recently, taking part in a song and a dialogue. The leaves are falling off the trees, making them loos, bare. I notice a few of the daffodil bulbs are putting an appearance through the ground. The chrysanthemums, geraniums, snapdragons and pansies are out in flower in the garden. Lately I have finished reading two good boots, “ Emily Climbs.” by L. M. Montgomery, and “ A Daughter of the Land,” by Gene Stratton Porter. We often hear a bellbird whistling around here. I have seen it a few times, and there have been a few little wax-eyes occasionally. The schools opened for the second term on May 25. There are a public school, a Roman Catholic school, and a high school here. As news is scarce I will close with love to all and yourself. —Yours truly. PURPLE PANSY (South Canterbury). [lt is one thing after another, Purple Pansy. If the leaves did not fall we should have no daffodils, and if the daffodils did not pass we should have no summer. Your garden must be pretty' witn its array of blooms. Does the bellbird live in one of your trees? And do the wax-eyes fly among your flowers?—DOT.] < *fi V ¥

Dear Dot, —May I join your band of Little Folk? I am 10 years old and in Standard 111 at school. I went to a Bamd of Hope concert the other night, and enjoyed myself. I-have just finished reading a book called “ Colin Courageous,” which I liked very much. I go to the Salvation Army Sunday School every Sunday, ana have missed only one Sunday in five years. Fluff is a little pet kitten I have at home. I hope to be able to write to you again soon. As this is all the news I will close with love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly, BLUE VERVAIN (Waimate). [I am pleased to welcome * you, Blue Vervain, and hope you will write often, and be a true Little Folk. I believe I have read “ Colin Courageous.” Certainly I have heard of it. What is it about? Your Sunday School record is surely excellent, and one of which you can be pardonably proud. Is Fluff fond of playing with a ping-pong ball?—DOT.] Sf. ¥

Dear Dot, —As my pen now pursues its way over the sheet of paper that contains this letter, my thoughts are slightly varied. Owing to the hearty welcome of your Little Folk and yourself (to whom I am grateful), and other matters, my feelings are apt to wander. During the period, however, which has elapsed since my return to your page I have been helping to form a tennis court, and assisting in the constructing of gardens. But to return to the request made in yout answer, of hearing of the enjoyable trip held during Easter, I will now proceed.

Awakening early to partake of a meal, I followed by a brisk walk we found ourselves seated in the bus, and commencing our journey northwards at twenty minutes past 5 on Easter Saturday morning. Arriving at Timaru we changed drivers, and proceeded again, as the sun rose up over the waters ot Caroline Bay, shedding a pinkish glow on the sky, which gave promise of a fine day. Passing on over the Canterbury Plains amid the beautiful scenery we passed througn Christchurch and on towards Rangiora. When there we spent the afternoon at a garden party, Sunday in the customary manner, and Monday at a neighbouring beach, before we returned home. Thus finished our holiday. I will now thank you once again, and ask all the Little Folk to remember to be kind to animals. 1 am once more at home. —Yours truly, FLEABANE (Waimate).

[There is a decided art in making a tennis court, Fleabane, just as there is in making a garden. I should like to see the result of your work, which 1 am sure is very good. And thank you for the de scription of your Easter trip. You must have had a most enjoyable time, and one you will not soon forget. I was glad to hear from you again, for your last letter did a great deal of good to the page.— DOT.]

Dear Dot, —May I join your society of Little Folk? I am always interested in your page, and read it right through. I am 15 years old, and go to Waitaki Boys' High School. 1 have two brothers botli younger than myself. I went to a twentyfirst birthday -party one Saturday night, but I did not like it much, as it was really a dance, and I cannot dance, so I had to sit out all the dances except the last one. Everyone was made to dance at the last. The Junior Bible Class is going up to Waimate for a night this week, so that will be something to look forward to. I have to play a piano solo up there, and I am not wishing to do so, but I suppose it will have to be done. I have been learning music for four years now, and can sight read music a little enough to pick up a tune that I hear someone else play. Have you heard of a lady who gives up her time for children who want to correspond. I joined her club about three years ago. I have three correspondents—one in India, one in Ceylon, and the other in Australia. The boy I write to in Ceylon is a Cingalese, and he can write English very well. He is going to England next year to go to university. He is 20 years old. I have postcards and papers, etc., from India Australia, and Ceylon, which are very interesting. I also have a school magazine from India. The average number of pages I receive every time is about six, all of which are full of interesting things—details of countries and so on—which I I like. Yon also have a corresponding club i have you not? I might be writing to you i some time for someone’s name. My news is elided now. so I will say good-bye. Wishing the Little Folk and yourself mucn luck I close. —Yours truly. TIM’S BROTHER (Oamaru).

[I shall be only too pleased to welcome Tim’s Brother to the page, and hope to hear from him as often as he can write. You belong to a very good school. Latei you will learn to dance, and enjoy it, too. But few healthy boys like dancing when they are 15. I am glad to know that you play the piano, and hope you will keep on learning as long as ever you can. I had not heard of the lady you speak of. Yes, you can correspond with people through the page.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —It is such a long time sin- e 1 wrote to you, that I thought if I did not write soon you might forget that I ever wrote to you. I had whooping cough last year. Our hens are laying now. Queen Dewdrop is in the hospital with scarlet fever. I came top last year in my class, and won first prize. The name ■of the book was “ Roster’s College.” Last term I came top. I am in Standard IV i this year. Lucky Last is in Standard VI at school. I have been home almost a I week now from school. We have stopped going to the factory, and are separating. I milk six and seven cows some nights. We are milking 17 cows. We have learnt 10 new songs at school, the names of three being “ Joy Bells,” “ Gipsy’s Chorus,” and “ Hoea Ra.” Do you know any? Our ducks are not laying yet. We have a rose fence at home. Last year I went to The Rocks for a picnic at Riverton, and had a great time. My brother and I go to Sunday school on Sunday’ afternoons. Now I must close. May’ we print letters to you?—Yours truly, QUEEN OF THE ROSES (Southland). I [There is a danger of being forgotten if i one does not keep people reminded of one s i presence, Queen of the Roses, but I had ! not forgotten you. I hope the whooping ■ cough has left you forever. It is a bad I complaint. Congratulations on your I position in class, which I hope you will continue to hold.-- I know “Joy Beils,” but neither of the other songs, I think. I Yes, you may print letters to me if you | like.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —The reason why I am so young but attending the Southland Boys’ High School is probably because I have had good teachers. Unfortunately, I have not had a game of football this season, but that will soon cease to be. The story ot my visit to Waikawa is rather a long one, for in a week’s time, what healthy boy of nine could not crowd into his life as many adventures as could possibly be held in so short a time? We arrived at the. boarding house on a Wednesday afternoon about 5.30 p.m. The first business on arriving was to find where we were; that is, to 'discover where we were to sleep, etc. This was difficult, as theie were 12 in the party, besides others who were staying. The party consisted of my mother and I, three aunts, and seven cousins, a formidable array! The children did not wait until all the arrangements were made, but went off exploring. The boarding house was an old twostoreyed wooden building with the road passing in front. Every day we went bathing and exploring. One night we went out on a launch, and, as may be expected, had a great time. On another occasion we went a long walk in some beautiful bush. An old trolley line ran | through the bush, and on the line ran a ; little stream. Giant tree ferns stood along ! the side, making, when the sun’s rays struck the stream, a beautiful picture. But all these arc nothing compared to tne

real adventure. This was the auspicious occasion of our visit to Curio Bay, that wonder of wonders. We, a party of eight (the others being hors de combat) set out with our lunch on our back on a bright sunny Saturday . morning at 9 a.m. We followed the beach on our way, taking a good look at the hull of a ship which was wrecked when Waikawa was a flourishing port. We procured fresh water at a house . some two miles from Curio Bay. On arriving at our destination we immediately found a fireplace, lit a fire, and had a good meal. The reason for our being so hungry was that we had done four miles’ hard walking, and knew’ that we bad to d„ four miles back, so had better have a meal when it was to be had. One or two of us nearly lost our meal, for we tried to cook ; and eat mussels. The result may be guessed at. We were not cooks. At Curio Bay there are petrified trees, a cave formed by three huge rocks, a “ race,” which makes one feel creepy, and last but not least, the pigeon holes in the 200»t cliff. These holes are at the top, and the birds can be seen flying in and out. _ When we turned round to go home imagine our 'chagrin when we saw that we were cut off by the tide. There was nothing for it but to go over the hills. We came on a disused trolley line with two trolleys. This made it easier going for nearly a mile. By dint of pushing through brambles and every other thing invented to scratch, we at last reached the top of a hill, and looked down on the boarding house. Our party felt like Balboa when he first sighted the Pacific Ocean. Having told my story, I will close with love io all the Little Folk and your own dear self.— Yours truly, FUNNY FACE (Southland). [That probably is the reason for your being at high school so soon, Funny Face. I hope you continue to have good teachers, and go on from one success to another. And I hope you soon manage to have a game of football. I was most interested to read the account of your visit to Waikawa, which is told so vividly that it has made yours one of the best letters in the page this week. You certainly had a chap ter of adventures. Do you like reading about explorers?—DOT.]

Dear Dot. —I have not written to you for a long time. I am in Standard VI this year. We have only 27 going to school. I had my eleventh birthday called over the air from Dunedin. I had' one parcel on dad’s writing desk, and the other on my doll’s basket. We have a wireless, and I enjoy listening in. We had the tele phone put in at Christmas time. I enjoy reading your page, and also about Peter, Patty, and Mr Pip and the Chums.

My favourite game is hockey at school, and in the summer it is rounders. Last year we played hockey and rounders witn Otama. In hockey we beat them 1 nil. The return match was 1 all. In rounders they beat, us badly. They won over 200, while we won only over 100. I have not much news, so I will close with love. — Yours truly, GOLDEN QUEEN (Mandeville).

. [To have one’s birthday called over the air must be a most interesting experience, Golden Queen. Were you not excited when the unknown voice told you where your presents were to be found? I should have been! I am glad you like reading about Peter, Patty, and Mr Pip, who seem to be favourites with most of my Little Folk. I see that you like vigorous games, summer and winter alike.—DOT.;

Dear Dot, —May I join your happy band of Little Folk? I am 15 years old, and the eldest of the family of five. I have three brothers and one sister. My sister and eldest brother go to the day- school, and the two, youngest are at home. 1 enjoy reading the Little Folk’s letters. They seem to be increasing every time. My mother used to write to y'our page when she was a girl. I ride two miles to work every morning, and I have pretty cold rides. .It is not very pleasant riding on cold, frosty mornings. We are having wet weather just now, but the rain is welcome, because we have been carting water. The gardens all look freshened up after the shower. I have a girl friend in England who writes to me regularly, and has some interesting things to tell about herself. I do not think she writes to the Otago Witness. We live not far away from the golf links, and there are son e pleasant places situated around us. I have been learning music for over a year now, and am going in for a theory examination soon. I passed my last music examination, so hope to be successful this time. I am working a tray cloth, then table napkin, table napkin ring, and egg cosy for my auntie. They will be nice when finished. Well, I will close now with kindest- regards to all the Little Folk and yourself.—Yours truly,

WILD BLUE VIOLET (North Otago).

[I am delighted to welcome you, dear, though I have had to alter your name somewhat, as the name you chose had already been taken. I am glad that you are the eldest in the family, for it is the most responsible position of all. I think. What was your mother’s nom de plume? Yes, it must be cold riding to work, but then it must be invigorating also. You are fortunate to have a correspondent- in

England. Learn music as long as you can.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —We have all our potatoes dug now, and have a fair crop this year. Men are busy erecting steel towers about here, and as there is such a quantity ot water in the holes they are digging, I expect they have much more bother than usual, as it has to be pumped out by a traction engine. We killed our pigs, and the bus took them down to Oamaru to be cured the next day. We also went down in the car-, and at the sale procured two other little ones. As yet they eat very little, but I suppose, as they grow older, they will come to eat more. The new school at Kurow was recently opened, but I think the children commenced in it at the beginning of the second term. I see you have some Little Folk at the Waitaki Hydro Works. It is a big place up there. Have you ever been up? Some of my correspondents have not written for ages, and I am sorry, as I liked receiving letters from them. We are receiving only about eight or nine eggs a day now. Love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly, LADY MARY (South Canterbury).

[What are the towers for, Lady Mary? I should like to know more about them. I suppose you are very glad to own the two little pigs, and have good, fun feeding them, even though they do eat so little. I have not been to the Waitaki Hydro Works yet. Perhaps your correspondents will write if they see this letter.—DOT.l

Dear Dot, —As I have not written to the page for a long time I thought I would pen a few lines to it to-day. It is over three months now since I last wrote to it. In the evenings now my sisters and I pass the time away by playing cards. I love playing, especially five hundred, and coon can. We have a wee puppy at home now, and it is a real little mischief maker. It is like a kitten the way it plays about. There was an aeroplane up here recentlj. It was taking passengers up, but I did not go up in it, although I would have loved to. I suppose they are quite common down in Dunedin, but up here one very rarely sees one. A few weeks ago, for the first time, I went to see the talkies. The name of it was “ Paramount on Parade.” I thought it was a wonderful picture. I have just finished reading a book called “Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare.” Have you read it? I thought it was a good book, but for one reason, which was that the stories in it were too much the same. Our flower garden is looking very bare just now. as we have not even one' flower out in it. We have been having a few

hard frosts lately, and it is frightfully cold after one has left one’s warm bed in the morning, but it is generally lovely in the afternoons. No, we did not take any snaps that day we went for that picnic up “ Plum tree ” Gully. I do not know what has gone wrong with some of my correspondents lately. I have not heard from any of them for a long time. I used to have 10 once, but now I have only two. Football is in full swing now. Lowbuni has played two matches, and I am glad t> say has not lost either of them. This letter is not a very large one, but all the same it will help to fill your page up a bit. Love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly, FLORIDA (Lowburn). [I am glad to hear from you again, Florida. So you like playing cards? I wish I did, too, but I cannot be bothered with them. Can you play bridge? Your puppy must be a delight, and I can imagine what a pet he is in the house. Yes, we see a good many aeroplanes in Dunedin. I have read the book you mention. Have you written regularly to your correspondents. If so they should have replied to you.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —I am sorry I have not written to you for a while. I had my fourteenth birthday a fortnight ago. Recently we had our first Bible Class banquet. I played the piano and sang. There were others besides me who joined in. I enjoyed my holidays very much indeed, but we are back at school again. I have been learning music for four years now. This is my fifth year. Love to all your Little Folk and yourself.—Yours truly, ENGLISH ROSE FLOWER (Pukeuri). [I suppose you have had other things to do than write letters, English Rose Flower. Are you a busy person? I should have liked to hear you at the banquet, which, I am sure, was very enjoyable. I hope you will learn music for many more years yet. Are you glad to be back at school?—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —I was glad to see my first letter published. Do you know the “name in print ” feeling? I had a positive attack of it. Steele Rudd and True Blue write very interesting letters I think. I live two miles up from the Waitaki .Hydro Works on the Canterbury side. This place will be under the lake when the dams are finished —supposed to be in about three years. The lake will be over. five miles long. I have seen where the bridge at the head of the lake is to be. The workmen have been widening the approach, and

driving the foundation piles while the river is abnormally low. I think that tins j will be one of the show places of New ■ Zealand when completed. Please excuse my writing and the smudges, as it is ■ rather awkward to write when Socks, our black and white cat is jumping on my shoulders and rubbing against my arm | to say nothing of taking a casual strcll • across the page. You pitied a cat for being caught in a trap, so won’t you pity me? I have a nice black nail on my left ' hand, where one of the teeth went through ’ the nail. The station owner is poisoning rabbits now. There is a wild cat under the house, and I heard my brother-m--law say just now that two more are there now. I think our two, Socks and Nigger, are quite enough. We have been having rain lately, but I don’t mind the rain, da you? Well, I will close with best wishes. —Yours truly, SPRITE ARIEL (Kurow).

[lndeed I know that “letter in print” feeling, Sprite Ariel. It is most exciting, is it not? You are' living on a spot, which, in later years, will be historical. I hope I can see it before the lake is formed. Thank you for your interesting description of it. I forgive your letter all its smudges if they were made by pussy paws. Certainly I pity you for having caught your finger in the trap. Did it hurt very much?—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —It is some months since 1 penned my’ last few lines to the page. Our school holidays are finished. We haa lovely weather here for the first week, but the second week was cold, windy, and wet. I went to Wellington with Dad in our car the first Tuesday of the holidays, and came back the following Wednesday. We left home, at half-past 6 in the morning, and arrived in Wellington about 10 o’clock. We met very little traffic till we. were over the Rimutakas. In the afternoon we motored round all the bays. We climbed up to Brooklyn where one can obtain a gorgeous view of Wellington, then we journeyed down through Happy Valley, and then out to where the Progress was ■wrecked. All we could see was the bow. Tins, bags of chaff and flour were strewn on the beach. We then wended our way back to the city, stopping to see the magnificent memorial erected to the memory of the late Mr Massey. We saw the oil tanks at Miramar, and a ship on the patent slip at Evan’s Bay. That evening we went to the talkie, “ The Middle Watch.” Next morning we walked round thq wharves, and took some snaps including one of th» s.s. Remuera. We thee saw the War Memorial, and did our shopping, then we wended our way home after

an enjoyable holiday. One Saturday recently we motored through to Palmerston North (40 miles from here), and arrived home in time to hear the WellingtonPetone football match over the wireless. I think football is an interesting game to watch or listen to, don't you? Our class is having a new teacher soon. It makes a difference going in the school bus, but I expect to notice it most this term. Last year I used to arrive home about five or after, but now I arrive home about halfpast 4. Tennis is a thing of the past, and we are playing basket ball. We have the talkies in Eketahuna since I last wrote. The last pictures I went to were “ Shadows of the Night ” and “ Rio Rita.' which were both good. We have stil some refugee children at school after the disastrous earthquake. I have read a number of books lately including “ Tangled Trails, William M'Leod Raine; “ Back of Beyond,” by Stewart Edward White; “ The Lion’s Skin.” by Rafael Sabatir.i, and some of the Scarlet Pimpernel series by Baroness Orczy. I made a miniature golf _ course in the holidays, while my cousin was here. We see numbers of aeroplanes pass over here. Once we used !o rush out to see them, but that is not the occurrence now. I would love to go up in an aeroplane. We have some huge yellow chrysanthemums out. I am making a fancy apron for myself. I will close now, as news is scarce. Love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self. I remain.-— Yours truly, BRIGHT MORNING STAR (Eketahuna), [I must thank you for your descriptions, Bright Northern Star, for they are very interesting and readable. You certainly spent your holidays most profitably. I should like to see the Massey Memorial, which I believe is very impressive. Do you like Wellington? I think football is interesting, and have a brother who thinks so too. Italian’s address is Enzo Bonfiglio, 9 Viale Maino, Milan, ItalyFancy your making a miniature golf course!—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —I am back again at school after the term holidays, and I had an enjoyable time staying with my aunt and grandmother at Teinuka. Every day I went to see my aunt and her baby. We enjoyed playing with the baby. In fact we were told afterwards that we had spoiled him. The baby is about eight months old, and is just starting to make attempts to creep. My sister took several photographs of him. In one photograph I was holding him, and in another my sister Voilet White, was holding him, while he was Fugging her. The baby is very

pretty with dark brown eyes. I had a ! low in a boat, while I was at my other I auntie’s place, and I enjoyed it very ; much. On the banks of the part of the | lagoon where my auntie lives there are about 20 pukakis, and one can hear them ' frequently during the night. My Uncle I Arthur took us to Timaru where I met i dad and mum, and proceeded on our jour I ney home. The other day we all went I down to visit our Uncle Walter at St. Andrews. As he is a bachelor we took our dinner with us, aud had a rare old time looking through his house. Love to all the Little Folk and yourself.—Yours truly, PEACHY (Cave). [lf you were staying with grandmother I you could not fail to have enjoyable hoii- I days, Peachy. And to be so near to a > baby would add even more to your i pleasure. What a darling he must be, so bright and healthy! You would be sorry to come home again. Did you find that you could row easily, or did you “ catch crabs”? What a merry time you had at Uncle Walter's!—DOT.]

Dear Dot. —It is a long time since I have written to you. I came first in Standard V. We have a little black and white calf. Would you please give me a name for it? We are milking four cows just now. I did not go anywhere in my holidays, but my brother went away to a sheep run. On May 28 a new s bool was opened in Kurow. It has four rooms m it. and there was a large gathering at it. Men are putting towers up from Glenavy. and have only about four more to put up this way. The school children had their photographs taken recently. While we were walking along the stony river bed, A Young Football Player found a dead trout and sea-gull. I have not had a letter from Glenice for a long time. At school we play football one week, and the next week basket ball. I like basket ball. Do you? Recently there has been snow on the mountains. When we went to out auntie’s at Easter she gave us a duck, but three days after a dog killed it, so we are going to kill the dog, because he is no good. We have just been pruning our trees. Up at the dog trials I had a sheep guess and stepping guess, but I d’d not win anything. It grows very dark early these nights, does it not? We have i some lettuces and cabbages coming on.— Yours truly, BONNIE RENNIE (Hakataramea).

[Congratulations on coming first, Bonnie Rennie. What a number of clever- Little Folk I have! I think Nelson or (if it is a heifer) Lovedy, would be a suitable name for the calf. Do you know anyone going to the new school? What are the towers that the nun are putting up? Yes, I like basket ball. Do you really need to kill the dog? Perhaps he thought he was doing right to kill the duck. —DOT.]

Dear Dot, —It must be a while since I I have penned you a few lines. During my I holidays one of my mates and I went to ' a sheep run for our holidays. It is about ' 28 miles from here, but all the same we I had an excellent time. We killed our two pigs a fortnight ago, and now we have two other little ones. They do not eat much yet, but as they grow older they will cat more. We have had two very cold days recently, but I expect we shall have colder weather yet. Lady Mary’s Mate is going to give me a dear wee black and white kitten, and would you please give me a I name for it? I was second in my standaid ; at school this term. There are about 36 , going to our school. One of our favourite I games in winter time at school is football. We are taking up our mangels at present. I think something is eating our eggs, as we receive only eight or nine in one day. Denot the leaves make a mess of the garden? Our Christmas roses are coming out in bloom now. We had good crops of wint< r pears this year. Lady Mary planted three fuchsia slips in a box, and they are both growing. They will have to be sheltered during the cold winter days. I ride my pony, Trixie, to school every day to give it a little exercise. We pulled our tomatoes up a good while ago, as the frost, was beginning to destroy them. My fathei was poisoning rabbits in our turnips, and

killed only 20. I won a guinea for stepping at the dog trials this vear. The river is rising a little latelv.—Yours truly. A YOUNG FOOTBALL PLAYER (Hakataramea).

[A holiday on a sheep run is always a good one, A Young Football Player. I used to love to spend mine so when I was at school. I think Chin-Chin would be a good name for the kitten, which, I suppose. you will love having at your home. Perhaps a weasel is stealing your eggs, for weasels are notorious thieves. Trixie wil : enjoy her daily exercise. Congratulations on winning the guinea.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Here I am again. We have been having very windy weather here lately. Thank you very much for giving me a name for my little cow. She knows her name quite well. The school has opened again. I was 11 years old on May 7, and received a number of presents. Our hens are starting to lay again. We- are milking hyo cows now. Well, as news is scarce, I will close. Love to all the Little Folk and your own dear self.—Yours truly,

DOLLY DIMPLE O (Heriot). [ls she a good little cow, Dolly Dimple 0? I am glad she likes her name, and does not toss her head when you call her by it. I should like to know -what pre sents you received. Can you milk?— DOT.]

Dear Dot, —I have not read the Otago Witness many times, but I like it very much, and I hope you will enrol me as a member of the Little Folk’s page. I love reading the many interesting letters sent in. Not long ago we had over 15in of rain in eight days. The racecourse and lowlying paddocks were swamped, and indeed, from the top of the cliff 2000 ft above Megalong, it looked as if the whole valley was flooded. Several beautiful waterfalls fell in silver ribbons over the cliff. But now the creeks have subsided, the flats are almost dry, and the falls have dis appeared as suddenly as they came. We are having lovely weather now. The nights are clear and frosty, and the days are sunny, although rather cold. The Valley Farm where I live is a little farm nestling among grand mountains, and the house is shaded by blue-grey cootamundras and tall gums. The only road down is through Blackheath Glen, six miles of winding road twisting forever downwards.

It is very beautiful, and is guarded on one side by cliff, and on the other by tall gum tree sentinels. Never have I seen such tall gums as those that raise their white arms from Megalong Creek. All the way the road is fringed with dark green sassafras and tree ferns, while in spring the cedar wattle shows its large creamy balls. In some places on the road one can look down on forests of tree ferns, and near the top of the drive one can gaze over the whole valley with all its beauty, and away to the horizon where there are hills upon hills becoming bluer and more indistinct in the distance, till they melt away m a purple haze. -It recalls to me these lines of Gordon’s:— hen the skyline’s blue, burnished resistance Makes deeper the dreamiest distance, Some song in all hearts hath existence. Such songs have been mine.

Best wishes from an Australian to the Little Folk and yourself.—Yours truly, DOT FROM AUSTRALIA (New South Wales).

[Welcome to my Australian namesake. I am so pleased that you like my Little Folk’s’ letters and wish to write to me, too, for you write a very good letter, dear, one of the best in the page this week. I have often seen pictures of Australian scenery in the Art in Australia publications, and am very much attracted to it and to the gum trees that help to make it so characteristic. Where you live must be very beautiful. I should like to see your district. I hope you will write often.—DOT.]

Dear Dot, —We have had a storm, but it is all oyer now. I went' with my brother for the cows, and I will tell you of my adventures. We went down a narrow track with bush on one side and a steep face on the other. We went through a creek, which I was very much afraid to cross, but I could not give in. We then went through some gorse and broom. He took me through some burnt bush, and there he found the cows. When we arrived home I was very tired, but happy. You have several Little Folk Girl Guides. Mother’s Sugar Bun is our lieutenant. I was staying in Riverton for a holiday, ai d enjoyed myself very much. Love to all.— Yours truly, LADY JANE GREY (Round Hill).

[You describe your adventures so clearly, Lady Jane Grey, that I can follow you all the way. I know that feeling of hesitating on the bank of a creek. But, with a brother, it is impossible to hesitate. You have to go on, or be forever branded as a coward. I know! I feel that you will remember that adventure as long as you can remember anything.— DOT.]

Dear Dot, —Since last writing to you I have been for a holiday to Kaitangata where I had a good time, though most ci the days were damp and cold. A party of us motored through one Sunday. We left here shortly before 6 o’clock in the morning, and had gone 16 miles before it was light enough to drive without the lights. Branching off at Duntroon we went by back roads to Maheno from there going by main road the remainder of the way. The back roads were very much like a scenic railway, as they were mostly ups and downs. Near Maheno it turned very cold, and when we reached Waitati we found it had been raining there. We had lunch on a hill overlooking a bushgrown valley. The road was wet from Waitati to Dunedin, but it was not raining when we went through. There are some very pretty houses and gardens down around there, and the bush scenery was most striking. As we came down Mount Cargill road we could see a haze of smoke hanging over Dunedin. Are not the houses in Dunedin crowded together! We ! arrived in Dunedin at 11 o’clock, and left j about a quarter of an hour later. The sun | was shining most of the way south of i Dunedin, so we managed to thaw a little. I We reached Kaitangata shortly before i 1 o’clock, having taken about six hours actual travelling time to go 160 miles. The grass down south is green and fairly long, while up here it is all dried up, and ■ we, ourselves, have been feeding our stock i for the past three months. The next day, I on a Monday, we went for a drive to the ! beach, and gathered winkles from the rocks. Dad and I stayed at Kaitangata, I w’hile the rest of our party returned home lon Monday afternoon. They arrived here i at half-past 3 on Tuesday morning, as they went to the pictures in Dunedin, and le_ft when they were over. On Tuesday night Pug’s Daughter, -her sister, and I went to the talkies, and they were very good. The name of the picture was “ The Shannons of Broadway.” I like the talkies better than the silent pictures, don’t you? Is not the American accent . oueer? We were going to the skating on Wednesday night, but Pug’s Daughter had a cold. I developed a cold while there too. and I do not th-nk it very fair, as I had ; had one a week before. I would not care .to live in Kaitangata again. Dad and I ■ came home by train, and the express was . ' late getting to Oamaru. Is not the scen- , ery wonderful that one sees from the window of the express between Dunedin and , Oamaru? I just felt like alighting and • gathering an armful of the different ferns. i There is snow on the mountains now, and the winds, when they blow off it, are J most refreshing. We have two new rei cords called “ Tramp, Tramn, Tramp, I j Keep on a-Tramping ” and “ I Don’t Work ’ for a Living.” and “The Laughing Policeman Up-to-Date ” Parts 1 and 2. I put a cover on my heifer calf now. and she comes to the cowshed every night while I am milking, to have her cover on. Mum 3 did not think she would let me, but she never even moves except to butt me. when 1 I fasten un the neck. Mv cow calved on e Saturday, but we did not keep the calf, t Kindest regards +n all and especially your u own dear self.—Yours truly. NIPPER’S MISTRESS (Otekaike). l ’ [I liked reading of your trip to Kai- ® tangata, Nipper’s Mistress, ana can •L imagine how pleasant it was watching the s scenery opening out in front of vou and I changing every mile or so. To see Dun- * edin from Mount Cargill is a happy tx- ’ perience. You seem to have enjove-.l every ® i moment of your holiday. I was glad , to read of the cover for your heifer. She d I must be very grateful for it th-se cold ■ e nights. Yours is one of the good letteis “ in the page this week.—DOT.l is * ¥ ¥ is Dear Dot. — ; T am very so>-> .■ y did if not write before, but re-a’ly I' have not s, had much time, as I play basket ball

now, and I am always out playing. It is rather a good game, I think. Our frocks are green, trimmed with orange. As I had a dozen postcards of Central Otago, I wrote to our correspondent in Italy and sent them. I hope they are suitable. On June 3 we went into Invercargill to play in the basket ball seven-a-side tournament. It was great fun, as we left here at 7.15 in the morning, and left Invercargill again at about 10.30 at night. It was a long day, but no one seemed to mind. I have only three years more to write to your page, as I was 18 on May 14. We had a slight fall of snow here last week, but as the ground was wet, it did not lie. There was a man.killed in one of the mines here on Monday week. About 20 tons of coal fell on him. At present we have Alton Beauty staying with us. As I am taking up too much of your page; I will close now, -with love and best wishes to all. — Yours truly, BELLE OF LYNN (Southland). [Basket ball is a very good game, and looks most attractive when pretty uniforms such as yours are worn, Belle of Lynn. Of course you cannot write -when you are busy with it. But I was glad to hear from you this week. Thank you for sending the postcards to Italian, who, lam sure, will be grateful for them. Did you win in the tournament? I am sorry to hear of the sad death of the miner.— DOT.] OUR NEW MEMBERS. Dot extends a special welcome to the following Little Folk, who have written to the page for the first time this week:— Blue Vervain (Waimate). Tim’s Brother (Oamaru). Wild Blue Violet (North Otago). Dot from Australia (New South Wales). MANY HAPPY RETURNS. Dot wishes many happy returns of the day to— Dolly Dimple-0, who was eleven on May 7. Belle of Lynn, who was eighteen on May 14. AUTOS. As the Little Folk inserting the following autos do not know the addresses.of the companions with whom they wish to correspond, it is necessary that those whose names are mentioned in the autos should send the first letter. —DOT. 9 V V Lady Jane Grey (Jean Mason,. Round Hill, Southland) wishes to correspond with Mischievous Fred. Golden Orange Blossom, and Spring’s Yellow Daffodils * ¥ * English Rose Flower (A. Graeve, Pukeuri Junction, North Otago) wishes to correspond with any Little Folk between the ages of 13 and 15 years.