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Rh Christmas in the Mutiny!

When did Englishmen ever pass a more extraordinary Christmas Day than we did in 1857?

Bivouacked by the roadside in a lovely country surrounded with evergreen foliage, like the holly, decorating the scene, we rested in a headlong pursuit under wreaths formed of sabres hanging in the trees over our heads like the mistletoe, and thought of all the dear ones in Old England at home, and toasted them in copious draughts of warm milk, while we feasted ourselves on the only food procurable — namely, parched grain, and some native fruit! 