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equally ripe for anything that should occasion romping and merriment, they had carried it into instant effect. The old housekeeper had been consulted, the antique clothes-presses and wardrobes rummaged and made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen the light for several generations; the younger part of the company had been privately convened from the parlour and hall, and the whole had been bedizened out into a burlesque imitation of the antique mask.

Master Simon led the van as "Ancient Christmas,"quaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak which had very much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village steeple, and must indubitably have figured in the days of the Covenanters. From under this his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was accompanied by a blue-eyed romp, dished upas "Dame Mince Pie," in the venerable magnificence of a faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer appeared as Robin Hood, in a sporting-dress of Kendal green, and a foraging cap with a gold tassel. The fair Julia hung on his arm in pretty rustic dress, as "Maid Marian." The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways; the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, and the striplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hanging sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the characters of Roast Beef, Plum-Pudding, and other worthies celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian, in the appropriate character of Misrule.

The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, according to ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and merriment. Master Simon covered himself with glory by the stateliness with which, as " Ancient Christmas," he walked a minuet with the peerless, though giggling, Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the characters, which from its medley of costumes, seemed as though all the family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the sport.

But enough of Christmas and its gambols: it is time for me to pause in this garrulity.—Washington Irvinu.

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The minstrels played their Christmas tune,
To-night beneath my cottage eaves;

While, smitten by a lofty moon,

The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,

Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,

That overpowered their natural green.

Through hill and valley, every breeze,
Had sunk to rest with folded wings;

Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check the music of the strings;

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So stout and hardy were the band,

That scraped the chords with strenuous hand!

And who but listened? till was paid

Respect to every inmate's claim;
The greeting given, the music played,

In honour of each household name.
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And "merry Christmas" wished to all.

How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark, To hear—and sink again to sleep!Or at an earlier call, to mark, By blazing fire, the still suspense Of self-complacent innocence.

The mutual nod—the grave disguise,
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;

And some unbidden tears that rise,

For names once heard, and heard no more;

Tears brightened by the serenade, For infant in the cradle laid.



Would that our scrupulous sires had dared to leave

Less scanty measure of those graceful rites

And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving the memory help when she could weave

A crown for Hope! I dread the boasted lights

That all too often are but fiery flights,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve.
Go seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring,

The counter-spirit found in some gay church,

Green with fresh holly, every pew a porch In which the linnet or the thrush might sing

Merry and loud, and safe from prying search, Strains offered only to the genial spring.




We still dress up both our churches and houses on Christmas and other festival days, with its cheerful green and rutilant berries. Is there under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impregnable hedge of about four hundred feet in length, nine feet high, and five in diameter, which I can now show in my round gardens at Say's Court (thanks to the Czar of Muscovy) at any time of the year, glittering with its armed and varnished leaves, the taller standards at orderly distances blushing with their natural coral ?—Evelyn.


0 reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The holly tree?

The eye that contemplates it well, perceives

Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an intelligence so wise,
As might confound the atheist's sophistries.

Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen

Wrinkled and keen;
No grazing cattle through their prickly round,

Can reach to wound;
But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear.

1 love to view these things with curious eyes,
And moralise;

And in this wisdom of the holly tree

Can emblems see,
Wherewith, perchance, to make a pleasant rhyme,
One which may profit in the after time.

Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear

Harsh and austere,
To those who on my leisure would intrude

Reserved and rude,
Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be,
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.

And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,

Some harshness show,
All vain asperities I day by day

Would wear away,
Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.

And as when all the summer trees are seen

So bright and green,
The holly leaves a sombre hue display,

Less bright than they;
But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
What then so cheerful as the holly tree?

So serious should my youth appear among

The thoughtless throng,
So would I seem amid the young and gay

More grave than they,
That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the holly tree.



The misletoe, or misseltoe, receives the Latin name of viscum from viscus, bird-lime, on account of the sticky nature of the berries. This plant is perennial, often existing to a great age. The root by which it becomes firmly attached to a tree is thick and woody; the stem is bushy and thickly jointed, but very smooth, as are also the leaves. These are of a lance-shape, but become broader and blunt at the extremity. The flowers are yellowish, seated on the stem; the berries white. In Herefordshire and Worcestershire, and wherever apple trees are cultivated to a considerable extent, the misletoe is common; but in other situations it is less frequent. The plant is often cut from the trees in severe winters and given to sheep, who devour it with great eagerness, and who are popularly said to be thereby preserved from the disease called the rot.

The common lime-tree, the black poplar, the apple-tree,

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