rs to the Cape
who, sweltering in a broiling sun _outside_ the tropics, marvel how they
are to toe the _Line_.

It thus came to pass that our interest in breakfast was after all
considerable. I shall confine my congratulations to the genius of one
resourceful landlady who furnished, in addition to "mealie-pap" allowed
by "Law," some illicit tit-bits of meat, as a surprise! But she did not
cease staggering humanity until a small dish of butter was produced.
Real butter!--the lady's character made her word sacred. It was an
astounding phenomenon in itself, but the sharing of it in a season of
famine with poor relations like her boarders was the kindest cut of all.
Butter it was; we remembered the taste, and there was the circumstantial
evidence of our eyes. We had once been taken in by dripping; but there
was no mistaking the species in the dish on Christmas morning. There it
was in all its luscious sallowness, and the smacking of our lips
betokened an appreciation of all that we had lost in the weeks gone by.
Many, alas! missed more than their butter. Speaking generally, the 'Xmas
breakfast consisted of black tea, khaki bread, and golden syrup--an
appetising rainbow on a "merry" morning. The _menu_ at dinner was little
better; it stirred up sad recollections of the past. Pudding (worthy of
the name) was nowhere. We had imitations; apologies for puddings,
plain--and hard--as a pikestaff, were everywhere. They were not
essentially cheap, because eggs, the chief ingredient, were fabulously
fresh. As for the geese that laid not, well, they did not cackle either;
their bones had long since been mumbled. But there were self-denying
citizens who actually preserved some beer and stout for Christmas Day!
These good stoics--stoical only to be epicurean--were proud of their
will-power. Indeed they ostentatiously affected intoxication and
horrified everybody--with their bad acting.

For the men who were obliged to spend the day in camp there was not much
to live for in the eating line. So everyone thought, at least, when the
fight for leave of absence had begun. But Mr. Rhodes, with
characteristic thoughtfulness, sent a lot of nice things to the camps,
which changed the situation and made men regret their anxiety to spend
Christmas at home. The quantity of what was styled Cape brandy consumed
in camp baffles computation. The effects of the swim were bad, too--not
because there were so many drunk--Christmas comes but once a year--bu