MODERN CHRISTMASES ABROAD.

Christmas Experiences in the Orkney Isles.

They were related to Mr. Sinclair by Mr. Traill, chief of the clan, with whom he stayed on the occasion of his visit to the island of Pappa Westra. The first of the two incidents was as follows:—"One Christmas Day," says Mr. Traill, "during a heavy gale, I wrapped my cloak about me, and started off with my telescope to walk upon the cliffs. Coming to the other side of the island, on which the surf was beating violently, I observed a vessel a few miles off fire a signal of distress. I hastened to the nearest point, and with the help of my glass perceived that she was Dutch built, and that, having lost her rudder, she was quite unmanageable. She fired several guns at short intervals, and my people came in large numbers to give assistance. But the surf was so fearful that nothing could be done. No boat could have lived a moment in such a sea. We were all utterly helpless. As the vessel drifted towards us, I could see the whole tragedy as distinctly as if it had been acted on the stage. Immediately below me were a number of my fellow-creatures, now alive and in health, and in a few moments they would all be mangled corpses. I could make out the expression of their features, and see in what manner each was preparing for inevitable death. But whether they climbed up into the shrouds, or held by ropes on deck while the sea was washing over the bulwarks, their fate was the same. The first wave lifted the vessel so high that I almost thought it would have placed her upon the land. She fell back, keel upwards. The next wave struck her with such terrific force against the cliffs that she was shivered at once into a thousand pieces; hardly two planks held together. It seemed as if she had been made of glass. Not a soul escaped. One or two bodies, with a few planks and casks, were all that ever reached the shore." Well might Mr. Traill add, "I was haunted for months by the remembrance of that heartrending sight."

The other story related by Mr. Traill shows that a Christmas party may be detained indefinitely in one of these remote islands, should the weather prove unfavourable. At Christmastide, a former Laird of Westra "collected a numerous party from all the neighbouring islands to celebrate the christening of his eldest son." His hospitalities cost him dear. A storm arose; his guests could not get away; instead of enjoying their society for a few days, he was obliged to entertain them at a ruinous expense for many weeks. His larder, his cellar, and his barns, were by degrees exhausted. His farm stock had allbeen slaughtered, except the old bull, which he was reserving as a last resource, when at length the wind abated, and a calm delivered him from this ruinous situation.

Thus it appears that in these remote islands of Scotland Christmas is not forgotten. But a writer in a well-known Scotch journal says the surest sign of the general joy is "Christmas in the Workhouse":—

"Christmas was gay in the old squire's hall,Gay at the village inn,Cheery and loud by the farmer's fire,Happy the manse within;But the surest signs of the general joy,And that all the world was happy—very,Were the sounds that proved at the workhouse doorThat even 'the paupers' were merry."

A Remarkable Christmas Gathering.

The Greenwich Hospital for Sick Seamen of all Nations presented on Christmas Day, 1880, a remarkable gathering of national representatives. There were 179 sailors, representing 31 nationalities, belonging to ships of 19 distinct nations. They were summed up thus:—England, 77; Wales, 3; Scotland, 9; Ireland, 11; Norway, 10; Sweden, 9; Finland, 6; United States, 5; Denmark, 5; British India, 4; France, 3; Germany, 3; Nova Scotia, 3; Russia, 2; Austria, 2; Italy, 2; Cape de Verd Islands, 2; Chili, 2; Jamaica, 2; Barbadoes, 2; St. Thomas, 2; Spain, 1; Portugal, 1; Canada, 1; New Brunswick, 1; Transvaal, 1; Gold Coast, 1; Brazil, 1; St. Kitts, 1; Mauritius, 1; Society Islands, 1. The mercantile marines represented were no bad index to the proportion of the carrying trade of the world each nation undertakes:—England, 96 vessels; Ireland, 3; Scotland, 16; Wales, 4; Norway, 7; Sweden, 5; United States, 6; Denmark, 2; France, 2; Germany, 3; Nova Scotia, 7; Russia, 2; Netherlands, 4; Channel Islands, 2; New Brunswick, 2; Italy, 1; Zanzibar, 1; Spain, 1.

The early morning brought warm Christmas wishes to the patients. Each found by his bedside a packet addressed to him by name. Some good lady had taken the enormous pains to work a pretty, and, at the same time, stout and serviceable wallet, with the inscription, "My letters," embroidered thereupon, and to accompany this little gift, in every case, with a short and seasonable letter of Christmas wishes, using other languages than English, to suit the convenience of every recipient. The initials under which these offerings came were "N. C. H." Other gifts, Christmas cards and Christmas reading, in the shape of magazines and illustrated papers were gladly welcomed.

The decorations of the corridors and rooms had given occupation to the sick sailors for several days, and sentiments of loyalty to the Queen and the Royal Family were abundantlydisplayed, together with portraits of members of the Royal Family which had been drawn from fancy.

The officers and nurses had dedicated to them some specimens of real sailor poetry, combining the names of the staff. With grim humour, the "operation room" bore above it "Nil desperandum"; and the decorated walls of the hospital told the onlookers that "small vessels should keep in shore," that "windmills are not turned by a pair of bellows," that "good things are not found in heaps," that "hasty people fish in empty ponds," that "plenty, like want, ruins many," &c.

The dinner at one o'clock was a great success. All who could get out of bed made it a point of honour to be present. But for adverse winds keeping ships from entering the Thames, the guests would have been more numerous. But, as it was, the patients under the roof numbered 179. There were, of course, difficulties of language; but no "Jack" ever ploughed the sea who does not understand a Christmas dinner; and, besides, the hospital in its nurses and staff possesses the means of conversing in seventeen different languages.

The scene was a thoroughly Christmas one; and many other festive scenes, almost as interesting, were seen in all parts of England. Whether recorded or unrecorded, who does not rejoice in such efforts to promote "goodwill amongst men," and long for the time—

"When peace shall over all the earthIts ancient splendours fling,And the whole world send back the song,Which now the angels sing."Which now the angels sing."

Christmas Crackers.

One of the popular institutions inseparable from the festivities of Christmastide has long been the "cracker." The satisfaction which young people especially experience in pulling the opposite ends of a gelatine and paper cylinder is of the keenest, accompanied as the operation is by a mixed anticipation—half fearful as to the explosion that is to follow, and wholly delightful with regard to the bonbon or motto which will thus be brought to light. Much amusement is afforded to the lads and lassies by the fortune-telling verses which some of the crackers contain. But the cracker of our early days was something far different from what it is now. The sharp "crack" with which the article exploded, and from which it took its name, was then its principal, and, in some cases, its only feature; and the exclamation, "I know I shall scream," which John Leech, in one of his sketches, puts into the mouth of two pretty girls engaged in cracker-pulling, indicated about the all of delight which that occupation afforded. Since then, however, the cracker has undergone a gradual development. Becoming by degrees areceptacle for bon-bons, rhymed mottoes, little paper caps and aprons, and similar toys, it has passed on to another and higher stage, and is even made a vehicle for high art illustrations. Considerable artistic talent has been introduced in the adornment of these novelties. For instance, the "Silhouette" crackers are illustrated with black figures, comprising portraits of well-known characters in the political, military, and social world, exquisitely executed, while appropriate designs have been adapted to other varieties, respectively designated "Cameos," "Bric-a-brac," "Musical Toys," &c.; and it is quite evident that the education of the young in matters of good taste is not overlooked in the provision of opportunities for merriment.

SANTA CLAUS AND THE STOCKING.

Hang up the baby's stocking! Besure you don't forget! The dearlittle dimpled darling, she neversaw Christmas yet! But I'vetold her all about it, and she openedher big blue eyes; and I'm sureshe understood it—she looked sofunny and wise.***Dear, whata tiny stocking! It doesn't takemuch to hold such little pink toesas baby's away from the frost andcold. But then, for the baby'sChristmas, it will never do at all.Why! Santa wouldn't be lookingfor anything half sosmall.***I know whatwill do for the baby. I'vethought of the very bestplan. I'll borrow astocking of Grandma's,the longest that everI can. And you'llhang it by mine,dear mother, righthere in the corner,so! And leave aletter to Santa, andfasten it on to thetoe.***Write—thisis the baby's stocking,that hangs in the cornerhere. You never haveseen her, Santa, forshe only came thisyear. But she'sjust the blessed'stbaby. And nowbefore you go,just cram herstocking withgoodies, fromthe top cleandown tothetoe!

Original page of SANTA CLAUS AND THE STOCKING.

Fatally Burnt in Christmas Costumes.

The Christmastide of 1885-6 was marred by two fatal accidents which again illustrate the danger of dressing for entertainments in highly-inflammable materials. In the first case a London lady, on Boxing Night, was entertaining some friends, and appeared herself in the costume ofWinter. She was dressed in a white robe of thin fabric, and stood under a canopy from which fell pieces of cotton wool to represent snowflakes, and in their descent one of them caught light at the candelabra, and fell at deceased's feet. In trying to put it out with her foot her dress caught fire, and she was immediately enveloped in flames. So inflammable was the material that, although prompt assistance was rendered, she was so severely burnt as to become unconscious. A medical man was sent for, and everything possible was done for her; but she sank gradually, and died from exhaustion. The second of these tragical incidents plunged a Paris family in deep sorrow. The parents, who lived in a beautiful detached house in the Rue de la Bienfaisance, had arranged that their children and some youthful cousins were to play before a party of friends on New Year's Night on the stage of a little theatre which had just been added to their house. The play was to represent the decrepit old year going out and the new one coming in. The eldest daughter, a charming girl of fourteen, was to be the good genius of 1886, and to be dressed in a loose transparent robe. On the appointed evening, after the company had assembled, she donned her stage costume and ran into her mother's bedroom to see how it became her. While looking at herself in a mirror on the toilette table her loose sleeve came in contact with the flame of a candle and blazed up. She screamed for help and tried to roll herself in the bed clothes; but the bed, being covered with a lace coverlet and curtained with muslin was also set on fire, and soon the whole room was ablaze. By the time help arrived the girl's clothes were all burning into the flesh; but such was her vitality that, in spite of the dreadful state in which every inch of her body was, she survived the accident many hours.

Similar disasters occurred at Christmas festivities in 1889, at Detroit, and in 1891, at Wortley, Leeds. In the former several little children were fatally burnt, and in the latter fifteen children were set on fire, eleven of them fatally.

FUNNY FACES

Christmas Literature

is too large a subject to enter upon at length, for a bulky volume would scarcely suffice to describe the numerous Christmas annuals, illustrated Christmas numbers, newspaper supplements and variety papers which have become popular at Christmastide since the first appearance of Dickens's "Christmas Stories." The development of the Christmas trade in this light literature has been marvellous, and it is increasing year by year. And the same may be said of the charming gift-books which are published annually just before Christmas.

Christmas Letter Missions.

Through the various letter missions that have been established thousands of Christmas letters and illustrated missives, bright with anecdote, are despatched annually to the inmates of convalescent homes and hospitals, and are heartily welcomed by the recipients, for every one likes to be remembered on Christmas Day.

The Post-Office Officials and Postmen

have, however, been very heavily weighted with these new Christmas customs. They have inflicted upon postmen and letter-sorters an amount of extra labour that is almost incredible. The postal-parcel work is also very heavy at the festive season.

The Railways at Christmas.

"Home for the holidays, here we go;Bless me, the train is exceedingly slow!Pray, Mr. Engineer, get up your steam,And let us be off, with a puff and a scream!We have two long hours to travel, you say;Come, Mr. Engineer, gallop away!"[92]

This familiar verse recalls the eagerness of the schoolboy to be home for the Christmas holidays. And adults are no less eager to join their friends at the festive season; many travel long journeys in order to do so. Hence the great pressure of work on railway employés, and the congested state of the traffic at Christmastide. Two or three days before Christmas Day the newspapers publish what are called "railway arrangements," detailing the privileges granted by this and that company, and presenting the holiday traveller with a sort of appetising programme; and any one who will spend an hour at any of the great termini of the metropolis at this period cansee the remarkable extent to which the public avail themselves of the facilities offered. The growth of railway travelling at Christmastide has, indeed, been marvellous in recent years, and it becomes greater every year. The crowded state of the railway stations, and the trains that roll out of them heavily laden with men, women, and children, wedged together by parcels bursting with good cheer, show most unmistakably that we have not forgotten the traditions of Christmas as a time of happy gatherings in the family circles of Old England.

[79]Huish's "Life of George the Third."

[80]Gentleman's Magazine, 1790.

[81]Copied from an undated leaflet inserted in the British Museum copy of Brand's "Antiquities," by the late Mr Joseph Hazlewood.

[82]Hone's "Every-day Book," 1826.

[83]Herbert H. Adams.

[84]"A black Christmas makes a fat kirk-yard." A windy Christmas and a calm Candlemas are signs of a good year.

[85]The "savoury haggis" (fromhagto chop) is a dish commonly made in a sheep's maw, of its lungs, heart, and liver, mixed with suet, onions, salt, and pepper; or of oatmeal mixed with the latter, without any animal food.

[86]F. Lawrence.

[87]"Old English Customs and Charities," 1842.

[88]"Biographical Lectures."

[89]"History of Berks," vol. xxv.

[90]"Grim, King of the Ghosts."

[91]"Old Times and Distant Places," 1875.

[92]Eliza Cook.

CABIN WITH THATCHED ROOF

But, as there is also much Christmas-keeping in other parts of the world, we pass now to—

Christmas-Keeping in the Arctic Regions, 1850-1.

"The bluejackets are generally better hands than the red-coats at improvising a jollification—Jack, at any rate, does not take his pleasures sadly. The gallant bands that have from time to time gone forth to a bloodless campaign in the icy north, have always managed to keep their Christmas right joyously. Certainly they could not complain of uncongenial skies or unseasonable temperatures; while, so far as snow and ice are necessary to thorough enjoyment, the supply in the Arctic regions is on a scale sufficient to satisfy the most ardent admirer of an old-fashioned Christmas. The frozen-in Investigators under McClure kept their first Arctic Christmas soberly, cheerfully, and in good fellowship, round tables groaning with good cheer, in the shape of Sandwich Island beef, musk veal from the Prince of Wales's Strait, mince-meat from England, splendid preserves from the Green Isle, and dainty dishes from Scotland. Every one talked of home, and speculated respecting the doings of dear ones there; and healths were drunk, not omitting those of their fellow-labourers sauntering somewhere in the regions about, but how near or how far away none could tell. When the festival came round again, theInvestigatorandEnterprisewere alone in their glory, and they were separated by miles of frozen sea; but they had solved the great problem.[93]On board theInvestigator, frost-bound in the Bay of Mercy, things went as merry as the proverbial marriage-bell. After divine service, everybody took a constitutional on the ice until dinner-time; then the officers sat down to a meal of which thepièce de résistancewas a haunch of Banks' Island reindeer, weighing twenty pounds, with fat two inches thick, and a most delicious flavour; while the crew were regaling upon venison and other good things, double allowance of grog included; and dinner discussed, dancing, singing, and skylarking filled up theholiday hours till bedtime; the fun being kept up with unflagging humour, and with such propriety withal as to make their leader wish the anxious folks at home could have witnessed the scene created amidst so many gloomy influences, by the crew of a ship after two years' sojourn in those ice-bound regions upon their own resources. Another Christmas found the brave fellows still confined in their snowy prison; but their table boasted plum-pudding rich enough for Arctic appetites, Banks' Land venison, Mercy Bay hare-soup, ptarmigan pasties, and musk-ox beef—hung-beef, surely, seeing it had been dangling in the rigging above two years. The poets among the men wrote songs making light of the hardships they had endured; the painters exhibited pictures of past perils; comic actors were not wanting; and the whole company, casting all anxiety to the winds, enjoyed themselves to the utmost."[94]

In the spring of 1870, before the breaking out of the Franco-German war, Germany sent out two ships, theGermaniaand theHansa, with the hope of reaching the North Pole. As is usually the case in Arctic expeditions, little could be done during the first season, and the ships were obliged to take up their winter-quarters off the east coast of Greenland. They had already been separated, so that the crew of one vessel, had no idea of the condition of the other. An officer upon theGermaniagives the following interesting account of their Christmas festivities in the Arctic regions:—

"To the men who have already lived many weary months among the icebergs, Christmas signifies, in addition to its other associations, that the half of their long night—with its fearful storms, its enforced cessation of all energy, its discomfort and sadness—has passed, and that the sun will soon again shed its life and warmth-giving beams on the long-deserted North. From this time the grim twilight, during which noon has been hardly distinguishable from the other hours, grows daily lighter, until at length all hearts are gladdened, and a cheerful activity is once again called forth by the first glimpse of the sun. Christmas, the midnight of the Arctic explorer, thus marks a period in his life which he has good cause to consider a joyful one.

"For days before the festival, an unusual activity was observable all over the ship; and as soon as the severe storm which raged from December 16th to the 21st had abated, parties were organised, under our botanist, Dr. Pansch, to certain points of Sabine Island, near to which we were anchored, where, in a strangely sheltered nook, several varieties of a native Greenland evergreen plant,Andromeda tetragona, were to be found. A great quantity of this plant was conveyed on board, to be converted into a Christmas-tree. Under the orders of Dr. Pansch, the Andromeda was wound round small pieces of wood, severalof which were attached, like fir-twigs, to a large bough; and when these boughs were fastened to a pole, they formed a very respectable fir-tree.

"After dinner on Christmas Day, the cabin was cleared for the completion of the preparations; and on our recall at six o'clock, we found that all had assumed an unwontedly festive appearance. The walls were decorated with the signal-flags and our national eagle; and the large cabin table, somewhat enlarged to make room to seat seventeen men, was covered with a clean white cloth, which had been reserved for the occasion. On the table stood the 'fir' tree, shining in the splendour of many little wax-lights, and ornaments with all sorts of little treasures, some of which, such as the gilded walnuts, had already seen a Christmas in Germany; below the tree was a small present for each of us, provided long beforehand, in readiness for the day, by loving friends and relatives at home. There was a packet too for each of the crew, containing some little joking gift, prepared by the mirth-loving Dr. Pansch, and a useful present also; while the officers were each and all remembered.

"When the lights burned down, and the resinous Andromeda was beginning to take fire, the tree was put aside, and a feast began, at which full justice was done to the costly Sicilian wine with which a friend had generously supplied us before we left home. We had a dish of roast seal! Some cakes were made by the cook, and the steward produced his best stores. For the evening, the division between the fore and aft cabins was removed, and there was free intercourse between officers and men; many a toast was drunk to the memory of friends at home, and at midnight a polar ball was improvised by a dance on the ice. The boatswain, the best musician of the party, seated himself with his hand-organ between the antlers of a reindeer which lay near the ship, and the men danced two and two on their novel flooring of hard ice!

"Such was our experience of a Christmas in the north polar circle; but the uncertainties of Arctic voyaging are great, and the two ships of our expedition made trial of the widely different fates which await the travellers in those frozen regions: and while we on theGermaniawere singularly fortunate in escaping accidents and in keeping our crew, in spite of some hardships, in sound health and good spirits, theHansawas crushed by the ice, and her crew, after facing unheard-of dangers, and passing two hundred days on a block of ice, were barely rescued to return home."

Yet even to the crew of the ill-fatedHansaChristmas brought some festivities. The tremendous gale which had raged for many days ceased just before the day, and the heavy fall of snow with which it terminated, and which had almost buried the black huts that the shipwrecked men had constructed for themselves upon the drifting icebergs from thedébrisof thewreck, had produced a considerable rise in the temperature, and there was every indication that a season of calm might now be anticipated.

The log-book of theHansathus describes the celebration of the festival:—"The tree was erected in the afternoon, while the greater part of the crew took a walk; and the lonely hut shone with wonderful brightness amid the snow. Christmas upon a Greenland iceberg! The tree was artistically put together of firwood and mat-weed, and Dr. Laube had saved a twist of wax-taper for the illumination. Chains of coloured paper and newly-baked cakes were not wanting, and the men had made a knapsack and a revolver case as a present for the captain. We opened the leaden chests of presents from Professor Hochstetter and the Geological Society, and were much amused by their contents. Each man had a glass of port wine; and we then turned over the old newspapers which we found in the chests, and drew lots for the presents, which consisted of small musical instruments such as fifes, jew's-harps, trumpets, &c., with draughts and other games, puppets, crackers, &c. In the evening we feasted on chocolate and gingerbread."

"We observed the day very quietly," writes Dr. Laube in his diary. "If this Christmas be the last we are to see, it was at least a cheerful one; but should a happy return home be decreed for us, the next will, we trust, be far brighter. May God so grant!"

Christmas in the Crimea.

The Christmas of 1854 was a dismal one for the soldiers in the Crimea, witnessing and enduring what Lord John Russell spoke of as "the horrible and heartrending scenes of that Crimean winter."

"Thanks to General Muddle," says a journal of the period, "the Crimean Christmas of 1854 was anything but what it ought to and might have been; and the knowledge that plenty of good things had been provided by thoughtful hearts at home, but which were anywhere but where they were wanted, did not add to the merriment of our poor overworked, underfed army; and although some desperate efforts were made to be jolly on dreary outpost and in uncomfortable trenches, they only resulted in miserable failure. The following Christmas was doubly enjoyable by comparison. The stubborn fortress (Sebastopol) had fallen at last to its more stubborn assailants; habit had deprived frost and snow of their terrors, and every hut ran over with hams, preserves, vegetables, and mysterious tins, till it resembled a grocer's store. The valleys of Miscomia, too, were rich in mistletoe, to be had for the trouble of gathering; but few cared to undergo that trouble for the sake of what only reminded them of unattainable sweets, and made them sigh for the girls they had left behind them."

In 1855, Messrs. Macmillan & Co. published a poem by H. R. F., entitled "Christmas Dawn, 1854," in which the writer pictures the festivities marred by war:—

"A happy Christmas!Happy! to whom? Perchance to infancy,And innocent childhood, while the germ of sin,Yet undeveloped, leaves a virgin soilFor joy, and Death and Sorrow are but names.But who, that bears a mind matured to thought,A heart to feel, shall look abroad this dayAnd speak of happiness? The church is decktWith festive garlands, and the sunbeams glanceFrom glossy evergreens; the mistletoePearl-studded, and the holly's lustrous boughGleaming with coral fruitage; but we museOf laurel blent with cypress. Gaze we downYon crowded aisle? the mourner's dusky weedsSadden the eye; and they who wear them notHave mourning in their hearts, or lavish tearsOf sympathy on griefs too deeply lodgedFor man's weak ministry.A happy Christmas!Ah me! how many hearths are desolate!How many a vacant seat awaits in vainThe loved one who returns not! Shall we drainThe cheerful cup—a health to absent friends?Whom do we pledge? the living or the dead?"

Thus did the poet, "sick at heart," explore "the realm of sorrow"; and then again he mused:

"In humbler mood to hail the auspicious day,Shine forth rejoicing in thy strength, O sun,Shine through the dubious mists and tearful show'rsThat darken Hope's clear azure! Christ is born,The life of those who wake, and those who sleep—The Day-spring from on high hath looked on us;And we, who linger militant on earth,Are one in Him, with those, the loved and lost,Whose early graves keep the red field they wonUpon a stranger shore. Ah! not in vainWent up from many a wild Crimean ridgeThe soldier's pray'r, responsive to the vowsBreathed far away in many an English home.Not vain the awakened charities, that gushThrough countless channels—Christian brotherhoodsOf mercy; and that glorious sister-bandWho sow by Death's chill waters!—Not in vain,My country! ever loved, but dearest nowIn this thine hour of sorrow, hast thou learntTo bow to Him who chastens. We must weep—We may rejoice in weeping"

Christmas in Abyssinia.

Wherever Englishmen are on the 25th of December, there is Christmas. Whether it be in the icy regions of the Arctic zone, or in the sweltering heat of tropical sunshine, the coming round of the great feast brings with it to every Englishman a heartydesire to celebrate it duly. And if this cannot be done in exactly home-fashion, the festival is kept as happily as circumstances will allow. In this spirit did our soldiers keep Christmas in Abyssinia, in 1867, with the thermometer at seventy-five in the shade, and even here the edibles included at least one traditional dish—a joint of roast beef. There was also an abundance of spur-fowls, guinea-fowls, venison, mutton, &c., and the place in which the festive board was spread was decorated with branches of fir and such other substitutes for holly and mistletoe as could be found.

Christmas-keeping in India

at different periods shows the same determination of our British soldiers to honour the Christmas festival.

In 1857, the saviours of our Indian Empire very nearly lost their Christmas. The army was encamped at Intha, within sight of Nepaul, waiting for the rain to clear off and the tents to dry, ere it moved on to drive the Sepoys into the Raptee. The skies cleared on Christmas morning, and Lord Clyde was for marching at once, but relented in time to save the men's puddings from being spoiled—not only relented, but himself gave a Christmas banquet, at which the favoured guests sat down to well-served tables laden with barons of beef, turkeys, mutton, game, fish, fowls, plum-puddings, mince-pies, &c. To allay the thirst such substantial fare created, appeared beakers of pale ale from Burton and Glasgow; porter from London and Dublin; champagne, moselle, sherry, and old port, 'rather bothered by travelling twenty miles a day on a camel back.' Following the chief's example, each regiment had a glorious spread, and throughout the wide expanse of tents sounds of rejoicing were heard, for the soldiers kept Christmas right merrily.

Similarly,

The British Soldiers and Sailors in South Africa

did their best to observe the Christmas festival in good old English style, even during the sieges of Ladysmith, Kimberley, and Mafeking, when provisions were to be had only at famine prices. The ingenious Tommy Atkins, in distant lands, has often found sylvan substitutes for mistletoe and holly, and native viands to take the place of plum-puddings and mince-pies, but it is not so easy to find substitutes for the social circles in old England, and when the time comes round for the Christmas dance Tommy's thoughts "Return again to the girl I've left behind me."

Moreover, it sometimes falls to the lot of soldiers and war correspondents to spend their Christmas in most outlandish places. Mr. Archibald Forbes has left on record (in theEnglish Illustrated Magazine, 1885) an interesting account of his own

Christmastide in the Khyber Pass.

In his graphic style the intrepid war correspondent describes the "ride long and hard" which Kinloch and he had through the Khyber to Jelalabad plain to fulfil "the tryst they had made to spend Christmas Day with the cheery comrades of Sir Sam Browne's headquarter staff." They had an adventurous journey together from the Dakka camp to Jumrood, where Forbes left Kinloch with Maude's division.

Further on, Mr. Forbes says: "I am not prepared to be definite, after five years, as to the number of plum-puddings forming that little hillock on the top of my dâk-gharry between Jhelum and Peshawur, on the apex of which sat the faithful John amidst a whirl of dust. At Peshawur the heap of Christmas gifts were loaded into the panniers of a camel, and the ship of the desert started on its measured solemn tramp up through the defiles of the Khyber." Then Mr. Forbes tells us how he joined Kinloch again at General Maude's headquarters at Jumrood. Kinloch "had not forgotten his tryst, but meanwhile there were military duties to be done." After the discharge of these "military duties," which included a night march to surprise a barbarous clan called Zukkur-Kehls, Forbes and Kinloch joined General Tytler's column on its return march to Dakka, because at Dakka they would be nearer to their friends of Sir Sam Browne's headquarters. "Tytler determined to make his exit from the Zukkur-Kahl Valley by a previously unexplored pass, toward which the force moved for its night's bivouac. About the entrance to the glen there was a fine forest of ilex and holly, large, sturdy, spreading trees, whence dangled long sprays of mistletoe; the mistletoe bough was here indeed, and Christmas was close, but where the fair ones whom, under other circumstances, the amorous youth of our column would have so enthusiastically led under that spray which accords so sweet a license? The young ones prattled of those impossible joys; but the seniors, less frivolous, were concerned by the increasing narrowness of the gorge, and by the dropping fire that hung on our skirts as we entered it. However, there was but one casualty—a poor fellow of the 17th Regiment had his thigh smashed by a bullet—and we spent the night under the ilex trees without further molestation.... It was Christmas Eve when we sat chatting with young Beatson in his lonely post by the Chardai streamlet; but a few hours of morning riding would carry us to Jellalabad whither Sir Sam Browne's camp had been advanced, and we were easy on the score of being true to tryst. As in the cold grey dawn we resumed our journey, leaving the young officer who had been our host to concern himself with the watchfulness of his picquets and the vigilance of his patrols, there was a sound of unintentional mockery in the conventional wish of a 'Merry Christmas' to the gallant lad, and there was a wistfulness in his answering smile.... The road to theencampment, the white canvas of whose tents showed through the intervening hills, was traversed at a hand gallop; and presently Kinloch and myself found ourselves in the street of the headquarter camp, shaking hands with friends and comrades, and trying to reply to a medley of disjointed questions. The bugles were sounding for the Christmas Day Church Parade as we finished a hurried breakfast. Out there on the plain the British troops of the division were standing in hollow square, the officers grouped in the centre.... The headquarter street we found swept and garnished, the flagstaff bedecked with holly, and a regimental band playing 'Home, Sweet Home.' Dear old Sir Sam Browne did not believe in luxury when on campaign, but now for the first time I saw him at least comfortable.... The mess anteroom was the camp street outside the dining tent; and at the fashionable late hour of eight we 'went in' to dinner, to the strains of theRoast Beef of Old England. It was a right jovial feast, and the most cordial good-fellowship prevailed. He would have been a cynical epicurean who would have criticised the appointments; the banquet itself was above all cavil. Rummaging among some old papers the other day, I found themenu, which deserves to be quoted: 'Soup—Julienne. Fish—Whitebait (from the Cabul River). Entrées—Cotelettes aux Champignons, Poulets à la Mayonaise. Joints—Ham and fowls, roast beef, roast saddle of mutton, boiled brisket of beef, boiled leg of mutton and caper sauce. Curry—chicken. Sweets—Lemon jelly, blancmange, apricot tart, plum-pudding. Grilled sardines, cheese fritters, cheese, dessert.' Truth compels the avowal that there was no table-linen, nor was the board resplendent with plate or gay with flowers. Table crockery was deficient, or to be more accurate, there was none. All the dishes were of metal, and the soup was eaten, or rather drunk, out of mugs and iron teacups. But it tasted none the worse on this account, and let it be recorded that therewerechampagne glasses, while between every two guests a portly magnum reared its golden head. Except 'The Queen,' of course, there were but two toasts after the feast—one was 'Absent Friends,' drunk in a wistful silence, and the other, the caterer's health, greeted with vociferous enthusiasm. A few fields off the wood had been collecting all day for the Christmas camp-fire of the 10th Hussars, and by ten o'clock the blaze of it was mounting high into the murky gloom. A right merry and social gathering it was round the bright glow of this Yule log in a far-off land. The flames danced on the wide circle of bearded faces, on the tangled fleeces of the postheens, on the gold braid of the forage caps, on the sombre hoods of beshliks.... The songs ranged from gay to grave; the former mood in the ascendency. But occasionally there was sung a ditty, the associations with which brought it about that there came something strangely like a tear into the voice of the singer, and that a yearning wistfulness fell upon the faces of the listeners. The bronzed troopers in thebackground shaded with their hands the fire-flash from their eyes; and as the familiar homely strain ceased that recalled home and love and trailed at the heart strings till the breast felt to heave and the tears to rise, there would be a little pause of eloquent silence which told how thoughts had gone astraying half across the globe to the loved ones in dear old England, and were loath to come back again to the rum and the camp fire in Jellalabad plain. Ah, how many stood or sat around that camp fire that were never to see old England more? The snow had not melted on the Sufed Koh when half a squadron of the troopers were drowned in the treacherous Cabul river. No brighter soul or sweeter singer round that fire than Monty Slade; but the life went out of Monty Slade with his face to the foe and his wet sword grasped in a soldier-grip; and he lies under the palm trees by the wells of El Teb."

Christmas in Canada.

In Canada the severe and long-continued frosts convert a good deal of land and water into fields of ice, and skating is a very popular amusement of Christmastide. Sleighing is also very fashionable, and the large tracts of country covered with snow afford ample scope for the pastime. The jingle of the sleigh bells is heard in all the principal thoroughfares which at the season of the great winter festival present quite an animated appearance. The ears of the sleigh drivers are usually covered either by the cap or with a comforter, which in very cold weather is also wrapped over the mouth and nose.

"Christmas Day," says an English Colonist, "is spent quietly in our own houses. New Year's Day is the day of general rejoicing, when every one either visits or receives their friends: and so, thinking of the merry times we have had in Old England, and comparing them with the quietness of to-day, we feel more like strangers in a strange land than ever before.

"As a special treat, we are to have a real English Christmas dinner to-day, and our housekeeper has made a wonderful plum-pudding. The turkey is already steaming upon the table, and we soon fall to work upon him. He is well cooked, but there seems to be something wrong with his legs, which are so tough and sinewy that we come to the conclusion that he must have been training for a walking match. The rest of the dinner passes off very well, with the exception of the plum-pudding, which has to be brought to the table in a basin, as it firmly refuses to bind.

"After dinner we retire to the sitting-room, and sit round the stove talking, while those of us addicted to the fragrant weed have a quiet smoke. Thus passes Christmas afternoon.

"Tea-time soon comes round, and after we have refreshed ourselves, we resolve to end the day by paying a visit to a neighbour who possesses an American organ, and Christmas evening closes in to the music of those sweet old carols whichthat evening are heard over the whole world wherever an English colony is to be found."

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