The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 9 (December 1, 1937.)
Then You'll Remember
Then You'll Remember.
Presently he will prod you in the midriff of memory and a procession of faces, names, boyhood and girlhood companions, relations, distant and not so distant, will troop past the saluting base of Recollection.
You will notch a resolution not to send Aunt Osprey a bundle of cigars as you did in the Christmas confusion of last year. You will make a mental note that Uncle Aubrey drinks nothing stronger than dillwater and a faint regret will recur for the bottle of Haggis Bloom you sent him last Yule. You will remember old Sebastian Stoop with whom you robbed orchards in the green days of youth and whose adult existence is a perpetual catch-as-catch-can with a large family and a small income; you will note an O.S. hamper for Sebastian! You will think of father's brother Bill whose life has been a thing of joy and borrow, of punting and panting, and you will resolve to keep up the old family custom of the “quid nunc.”
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“Here's Pudding In Your Eye!”
You will suddenly feel ashamed of yourself for neglecting friendships throughout the heat and burden of the year. You will feel a skunk. A lump will rise in your throat. You'll decide to do the decent thing next year—but you won't.
These are some of the things Father Christmas will do to you in the restive, festive season.