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Friday, December 25, 1908
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I cursed those Waits last night. They came along about midnight, and woke me out of a sound sleep. You can imagine what a charming proposition in the way of "Gloria in Excelsis" those bloody Goanese shenzis can put up. Then today they were setting off firecrackers and that bloody band was tooting all day long. Just a thing, to imbue a man with the true Christmas spirit, which by the way, our Goanese kitchen mechanic was so full of he had to send some one else along to cook the dinner tonight. I'm rather fed up on Christmases in the East. [[strikethrough]]It's [[/strikethrough]] ^[[They're]] worse than a mockery,- they're mentally and morally destructive, to boot.

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Saturday, December 26, 1908
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Got my first mail from home here today. A few Christmas cards and one or two little odds and ends which brightened me up a deal after the general cussedness of yesterday. 

The monsoon is stopping now,- by gum, it's going to be damned hot for a while now until the rain starts. Stewart says there are no such things as rain-drops here,- it simply comes down like it does when one overturns a bucket of water above one's head. Oh, this is a charming little spot. The more I hear of it the gladder I am that I'm not in Borneo.