ers and Miners, who, hearing the report
that I was dead, positively came down to Spring Hill to take my
measure for a coffin. This may seem a questionable compliment, but I
really felt flattered and touched with such a mark of thoughtful
attention. Very few in the Crimea had the luxury of any better coffin
than a blanket-shroud, and it was very good of the grateful fellow to
determine that his old friend, the mistress of Spring Hill, should
have an honour conceded to so very few of the illustrious dead before
Sebastopol.
So Christmas came, and with it pleasant memories of home and of home
comforts. With it came also news of home--some not of the most
pleasant description--and kind wishes from absent friends. "A merry
Christmas to you," writes one, "and many of them. Although you will
not write to us, we see your name frequently in the newspapers, from
which we judge that you are strong and hearty. All your old Jamaica
friends are delighted to hear of you, and say that you are an honour
to the Isle of Springs."
I wonder if the people of other countries are as fond of carrying with
them everywhere their home habits as the English. I think not. I think
there was something purely and essentially English in the
determination of the camp to spend the Christmas-day of 1855 after the
good old "home" fashion. It showed itself weeks before the eventful
day. In the dinner parties which were got up--in the orders sent to
England--in the supplies which came out, and in the many applications
made to the hostess of the British Hotel for plum-puddings and
mince-pies. The demand for them, and the material necessary to
manufacture them, was marvellous. I can fancy that if returns could be
got at of the flour, plums, currants, and eggs consumed on
Christmas-day in the out-of-the-way Crimean peninsula, they would
astonish us. One determination appeared to have taken possession of
every mind--to spend the festive day with the mirth and jollity which
the changed prospect of affairs warranted; and the recollection of a
year ago, when death and misery were the camp's chief guests, only
served to heighten this resolve.
For three weeks previous to Christmas-day, my time was fully occupied
in making preparations for it. Pages of my books are filled with
orders for plum-puddings and mince-pies, besides which I sold an
immense quantity of raw material to those who were too far off to send
down for the manufactured article on Christmas-day, a
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