out this time and my friend tells me that he
and his mates had to live for a mortal fortnight on canned plum pudding.
They tried it cold and they tried it boiled, they tried it baked, they
had it fried, and they had it toasted, they had it for breakfast, dinner
and tea. They had nothing else to think, or talk, or argue and quarrel
about; and they dreamed about it every night, my friend says. It wasn't
a joke--it gave them the nightmare and day-horrors.

They tried it with salt. They picked as many of the raisins out as they
could and boiled it with salt kangaroo. They tried to make Yorkshire
pudding out of it; but it was too rich.

My friend was experimenting and trying to discover a simple process
for separating the ingredients of plum pudding when a fresh supply of
provisions came along. He says he was never so sick of anything in his
life, and he has had occasion to be sick of a good many things.

The new-chum jackaroo is still alive, but he won't ever eat plum pudding
any more, he says. It cured him of homesickness. He wouldn't eat it even
if his bride made it.

Christmas on the goldfields in the last of the roaring days, in the
palmy days of Gulgong and those fields. Let's see! it must be nearly
thirty years ago! Oh, how the time goes by!

Santa Claus, young, fresh-faced and eager; Santa Claus, blonde and
flaxen; Santa Claus, dark; Santa Claus with a brogue and Santa Claus
speaking broken English; Santa Claus as a Chinaman (Sun Tong Lee & Co.
storekeepers), with strange, delicious sweets that melted in our mouths,
and rum toys and Chinese dolls for the children.

Lucky diggers who were with difficulty restrained from putting pound
notes and nuggets and expensive lockets and things into the little ones'
stockings. Santa Claus in flannel shirt and clay-covered moleskins.
Diggers who bought lollies by the pound and sent the little ones home
with as much as they could carry.

Diggers who gave a guinea or more for a toy for a child that reminded
them of some other child at home. Diggers who took as many children as
they could gather on short notice into a store, slapped a five-pound
note down on the counter and told the little ones to call for whatever
they wanted. Who set a family of poor children side by side on the
counter and called for a box of mixed children's boots--the best--and
fitted them on with great care and anxiety and frequent inquiries as to
whether they pinched. Who stood little girls and boy