I didn't exactly get what I anticipated with Henry Lawson's "The Ghosts of Many Christmases;" there were no ghosts and it wasn't exactly a short story.
"Ghosts" in this case, are memories, and it's exactly that, a collection of Christmas memories, with no unifying plot. Still, it was fascinating to me to learn about Christmases in the olden days of Australia. There's a comfortable tone to the piece, like hearing your grandpa reminisce.
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