Santa Claus' Message: A Christmas Story

Twenty-foot was an almost deserted mining camp, and presented the desolate appearance of such localities: A wide valley, honeycombed by old workings, and strewn with debris. On one side stretched miles of barren ranges, denuded of heavy trees, which had been felled to feed the boilers and timber the underground workings when some of the quartz reefs had been developed, after the alluvial gold had been won. These also had petered out. On the other side of the valley were farms, for here rich volcanic soil overlay the silurian formation. Consequently, there was still a small population in the district, which accounted for the survival of a place of worship, a State school, general store, blacksmitreplace with shop, and, on a side road, a coffee palace. There were only two men here now seeking gold, or fossicking, as it is called. One was a relic of the sixties, known behind his back as Bushranger Bill, or B.B., who, needless to say, had never followed that occupation, and probably, had he visited the barber (who was also the local blacksmith) more regularly, would never have been so designated. The second fossicker was a man of different stamp. With his family, he lived about a mile above the township, at the head of the gully, in a comfortable, though small, cottage, surrounded by a garden. He had brought his young wife here in the early seventies, just after the volcanic land had been made available for selection, but too late to secure a holding, and here he had remained, digging, with varying results. When there was enough rain, he sluiced the old workings, and, with the aid of one of the defunct companies' dams, could win gold during several months of the year. During the dry spells he sought old tailings and headings among the abandoned holes, and had them carted to the sluice boxes. It was a precarious existence (I use the word purposely). Still, to him, the life presented a certain fascination, and occasional "windfalls" lured him on.

At the time of which I write, funds were very low -- in fact, there were none. It had been a dry winter, the wash dirt put through was poor, and only a portion had been treated, for Hampton had not been able to sluice since August, and now, near the end of December, rain looked as far off as ever. Troubles seldom come singly. The local storekeeper had died recently, and his successor, who decided to run the business on city lines, discouraged long credit. Formerly, the family had the necessaries of life assured, for the old storekeeper knew that when the dirt paid, his account had been squared; but this stranger had intimated that unless a payment was forthcoming the account would be closed. There were now three children. The eldest, about ten years, was named Hope. Some of the schoolgirls, whose parents were in comfortable circumstances, sometimes called her "The folorn Hope" -- but this is Christmas time; we will not recall slights nor unkindness now. The other two were twins -- Grace and Joy. The eldest child was robust and dark, like her father; the twins were fair, and resembled the mother, but had short golden curls, like spiral springs. They were about seven years old.