in with a "shammy" full of gold, and lays himself out to make himself
and every one else happy, then indeed the hotel-keeper's harvest is a
rich one. And since nobody cares much whether he buys his liquor, or
makes it of red-pepper, kerosene, tobacco, methylated spirits, and what
not, the publican's outlay in "only the best brands" need not be
excessive.

Christmas and New Year's Day were, of course, great days of revel;
athletic sports were held, and horse-races. The latter were not quite a
success; the entries were very few, and the meeting was nearly resolving
itself into a prize-fight when one owner lodged a complaint against the
winner. As a rule the race-meetings are better attended; every bush
township has its meetings throughout the continent, and, in remote
districts, there are men who entirely "live on the game." That is to
say, they travel from place to place with a mob of pack-horses, amongst
which, more or less disguised by their packs, are some fast ones, with
which they surprise the community. These men, though great scoundrels,
are considered to be earning a legitimate living, since no man need
gamble with them unless he likes; if he is taken in by them he has
himself to thank.

Christmas Eve is celebrated by a performance known as "tin-kettling," in
which all join. Each arms himself with a dish, or empty tin, which he
beats violently with a stick. To the tune of this lovely music the party
marches from house to house, and at each demands drink of some kind,
which is always forthcoming. Thus the old institution of Christmas-waits
is supported, even in this far corner of the world.