Christmas Day was now approaching, and preparations for making the season as enjoyable as possible were taken in hand. Tents were decorated and the ground around laid out in designs formed with the aid of the stones from the sea beach. A competition had been arranged and prizes were given for the parties securing the best results. One man constructed from the soil some models of kangaroos and swans. A supply of beer was ordered from the Canteen, and a consignment of Swallow & Ariell's tinned plum puddings having been received were issued in the proportion of one tin to every two men. On the afternoon of the 24th December arrived the "Christmas Billies." These were two-quart cans which had been filled with comforts by the people of Australia and despatched for the use of the troops. Each can contained a card whereon the sender had written a seasonable greeting. By a touch of irony, painted on the outside of the receptacle was a representation of an Australian kicking a Turk off the Peninsula. Beneath was inscribed a line from "Dryblower's" well known song, "This bit of the world belongs to us." The contents of the "billies" covered a fairly wide range of articles, and an inventory made of one gave the following result:-- 1 tin shortbread. 1 tin cheese. 1 tin tobacco. 1 pack playing cards. 1 corkscrew. 1 mouth organ. Safety pins. 1 piece soap. 1 tube toothpaste. 1 toothbrush. 1 packet prunes. 1 packet boracic acid. 1 writing pad with envelopes. 1 pipe. 6 cigars. Although each State of the Commonwealth sent its proportion of gifts, the whole lot were pooled and distributed _pro rata_. The 28th thus received mostly Victorian gifts, but they were none the less welcome, and many men answered by letter the greetings of the senders. The receipt of these gifts excited considerable interest and gave infinite pleasure. The scene when the cans were being opened was absorbing. Men were behaving like children, exhibiting the articles to one another, exchanging when not quite to taste, rendering impromptus on the mouth organs, and laughing over their own interpretations of the messages. In these last, as might be expected, little incongruities were discovered, and the commanding officer of a neighbouring battalion, who admitted an age of 40 and a weight of some 200 lbs., felt flattered when he read the enclosed inscription, "To my dear little soldier boy."