to buy luxuries, such as biscuits and canned puddings; and even relieve
the monotony of marmalade jam with "bullocky's joy." This last is
merely molasses or "golden syrup" called "bullocky's joy," sometimes
"cocky's delight" because it is the chief covering for slices of bread
with the bullock-driver or cocky farmer in Australia.

When a steamer was passing through the canal during our bathing-parades
we had to get in up to the neck as we were warmly clad with merely a
tin identity-disk hung round our necks on a piece of dirty string.
Some of the passengers would throw into the water tins of tobacco and
cigarettes; and there were some sprints for these made in record time,
I tell you. Sometimes we would receive messages from home and it was
surprising how often the man whose name was called out would chance to
be present. There were occasions, however, when some one would call
out from the ships: "D'you know Private Brown of the Yorkshires?" and
we would have to explain that we were Australians. I suppose we could
not expect them to recognize us dressed as we were, though our language
should have given them a hint. On our part we would inquire if the war
was still on, and tell them to give our regards to King George.

One morning the camp was all agog and the air thick with "furphies."
We were ordered to get ready for embarkation, and speculation was rife
as to our destination. Some said we were going to Mesopotamia. Others
had it from a reliable source that we were bound for Salonika. _Some
one said, that some one told them, that they had heard_, that a sentry
outside the general's tent had overheard the general talking in his
sleep and _we were to make another attack on the Dardanelles_! There
were few who guessed we were going to France, such being too good to be
true, and only the bold ones dared to whisper "that it might be so,"
but they were immediately told to "Shut up! Don't be an ass! Hasn't