
KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
369 

A FAMILY CHAPTER. 
THE ISLAND OF PLUM-PUDDING. 
BY THE AUTHOR OF “fA CHRISTMAS DISASTER.” 

NCE upon A TIME—very long 
before apple-sauce had ever 
been eaten with goose, the 
good King of the Christmas 
Islands had occasion to des- 
patch to the farthest of the 
isles over which he reigned, a 
great ship, in quest of provisions for an ap- 
proaching festival. It will be remembered 
by the historical student, that each of this 
groupe of isles produced in abundance some 
one necessary of life for the Christmas King 
and his frolicsome subjects. One isle was 
famous for its ribs and sirloins, another 
yielded misseltoe, a third gave a splendid 
crop of mince-meat, nut-brown-ale flowed in 
a fourth, huge log-fires were imported from a 
fifth, and citron, sugar, turkeys, plums, with 
countless condiments, luxuries and delicacies, 
took root and flourished,—each in its separate 
soil. 
Before we start on the voyage, it must be 
borne in mind that the great arts of civili- 
sation were, in those days, unknown in the 
Christmas Islands. King and people enjoyed 
every product of the earth; but they were 
savages—in their infancy—raw. Cookery 
with them was no code of laws; each gour- 
mand followed his own tastes, and dined in 
riotous freedom. It was a table-land of 
liberty. Thus, they ate mustard with their 
mince-pies, poured brandy over the roast- 
beef, took sugar and spices with their horse- 
radish; and steeped sausages, stuffed with 
plums, in old ale. 
Of the wonder now known to civilised man 
as “plum-pudding,” they had not an idea! 
The King himself, who revelled in perpetual 
luxuries, never dreamed of such an invention ! 
Scattered everywhere profusely were the 
materials ; and happily enough men munched 
their citron, crammed their mouths with 
citron, and with rasins of a fig-like size; 
biting nutmegs at intervals. They had flour 
also in pecks ; and although it was dry eating, 
they knew that health rendered a few spoons- 
ful as an accompaniment to the fruit and 
spice absolutely essential. It was difficult 
to get down; but milk helped them, and 
brandy greatly lessened the inconvenience. 
When they had enjoyed to repletion the 
endless variety of luscious materials (with a 
mouthful or two of fine dry flour as described), 
they stuck a slip of holly in their mouths. 
It was a custom. But of “ plum-pudding’’ 
they had never heard; nor could so grand a 
result of many combinations of intellect be 
possibly imagined by a people who boiled 
turkeys in tea, ate spinach with hot elder- 
wine, and apple-sauce with salmon. 


Won. F¥.—24. 



But it was now high time for the great 
Captain Spoon— such was the name of the 
King’s prime minister in those times—to set 
sail upon his voyage among the Christmas 
Islands, for the gathering in of supplies. 
‘Set sail’? is not the word, for his vessel 
was an enormous steamer (this was in the 
era of the jirst'‘discovery of steam), with a 
boiler of Vesuvian proportions. He flew 
rapidly past several narrow shores, such as 
the Roasted Chesnut Isle, and many others, 
intending to touch at these on his return ; 
and repaired to the Raisin Isle, the Currant 
Isle, the Citron and Spice Isles, and at the 
Islands of Milk and Eggs. Thence he sailed 
for the Isle of Suet, and afterwards landed at 
Flour Island. Of all these ingredients, and 
some others, he took on board a noble 
Christmas stock, and then steered direct for 
the famous Isle of Brandy. He touched also 
at Holly Mount. The steamer had now a 
magnificent freight, and fast through the 
deep she flies; Captain Spoon, a stirring 
character, anticipating for his services the 
honor of being made a Knight Grand Sprig 
of the Misseltoe, by the King of the Christ- 
mas Islands. 
But presently a startling change came 
over the sea, and also over Captain 
Spoon. On the steamer sped; but through 
waves rougher than the nutmeg-grater of 
the gods—whiter than frosted sugar, fiercer 
than turkeys mad for the honor, the rapture 
of the spit. Some supernatural Captain 
Spoon was stirring up the elements. Now 
the paddles touch not the water ; the wheels 
indeed turn into wings; the smoke forms a 
canopy that covers the whole visible world ; 
the vessel flies through the air ;—no, through 
the steam—all, all, is steam. Onward she 
moves with incredible velocity, more and 
more gathers and condenses the steam, more 
pale grows Captain Spoon, and more in peril 
that rich and precious freight, without 
which the Christmas festival will be naught ; 
the substitute for it being the execution of a 
self-appointed Knight Grand Sprig, sentenced 
to have ten thousand pounds’ weight of 
sausages suspended round his neck, and to 
be drowned in the Great Wassail-bowl, filled 
with skim-milk, for his monarch’s diversion ! 
In an instant there came a terrific whirl- 
wind, that plumped the steamer down again 
into the sea, deep, deep into it—nay, under 
it: and under the waves the ship still drove 
on. Captain Spoon is soaked to the heart! 
Had he been pewter, he would have been wet 
through in that foaming surge. What is 
worse, the cargo is destroyed! those choice 
ingredients—spice, eggs, milk, plums, sugar, 
brandy,—all saturated, all commingled, all 
mixed up, all spoiled ! 
But now the Captain ean think only of 
himself; for the water, through the depths of 

BB 
