Published: Civil and Military Gazette, 31 December 1887.

Attribution: In Scrapbook 4 (28/4, p. 44).

Text: Civil and Military Gazette.

Notes: RK had left the CMG and Lahore for the Pioneer and Allahabad around mid November 1887, but he continued to contribute stories to the CMG regularly through the next year and irregularly thereafter.

RK used the pseudonym ‘The Reveller’ three times in quick succession in the CMG for the following stories: ‘A Merry Christmas’, 31 December 1887; ‘A New Year's Sermon’, 1 January 1888; and ‘The Luck of Roaring Camp’, 17 January 1888.

‘A Merry Christmas’ has been reprinted in the Martindell–Ballard pamphlets and in Harbord, iii, 1629–32.

Everyone who, by hook or by crook, could get an invitation to dine with a friend was dining out, and the big Club dining-room was thinly speckled with six men – to wit, Pelletbough, the Judge, who is an old man, Markin, the barrister, who is middle-aged and fat, Goyle, the veterinary surgeon, and Saulez, the man doctor, old Colonel Cassanade, and I myself. We were – we felt it as we foregathered round the fire in the smoking-room – the outcastes of Kalanaghar on Christmas Eve 1887 – men deemed unworthy of an invitation to any family circle. Cassande stared into the fire and grinned horribly at something he saw in the embers. Then he pulled his moustache and ordered a sherry and bitters. A cold wind came in with the khitmatgar and made Goyle, who is a singularly vituperative man, swear fluently. Otherwise the silence was unbroken except by the flapping of the leaves of the Pink ‘Un in Markin's hands.

“Sirwa inez par” said the khansamah, and we trooped into the dining- room, which echoed our footsteps and was not too warm.

There was an air of unusual splendour about the table and a profusion of frost-nipped roses in the center-piece. Cassanade grunted and tucked the napkin into his collar. Then he began to turn purple and to point to the center-piece. “What in the world” – but he used a much worse expression – “is that doing here?” “That” was a piece of mistletoe procured, from goodness knows where, by the khansamah, who explained to the horrified Cassanade that it was a phul, which had some connection with Christmas. “It's Christmas Eve, you know,” said Markin drearily. “D— it, so it is,” said Goyle.