Old Christmas.....................................................................................................................................................1

Washington Irving...................................................................................................................................1

Christmas.................................................................................................................................................1

The Stagecoach ......................................................................................................................................4

Christmas Eve..........................................................................................................................................7

Christmas Day ........................................................................................................................................12

There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of

the holiday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the

May morning of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets

had painted it; and they bring with them the flavour of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps with

equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more homebred, social, and joyous than at present. I regret to

say that they are daily growing more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but still more

obliterated by modern fashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see

crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the

additions and alterations of latter days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game

and holiday revel, from which it has derived so many of its themes,as the ivy winds its rich foliage about

the Gothic arch and mouldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their tottering

Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations.

There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of

hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are extremely tender and

inspiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that

accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervour and pathos during the season of Advent,

until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and goodwill to men. I do not know a

grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the full choir and the pealing organ performing a

Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony.

It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the

announcement of the religion of peace and love, has been made the season for gathering together of family

connections, and drawing closer again those bands of kindred hearts which the cares and pleasures and

sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose; of calling back the children of a family who have

launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that

rallyingplace of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing mementoes of

There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other

times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth and

dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad and everywhere." The song of the bird,

the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden

pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and heaven with its deep delicious blue and its

cloudy magnificence, all fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere sensation.

But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted

snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of the landscape, the

short gloomy days and darksome nights, while they circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also

from rambling abroad, and make us more keenly disposed for the pleasures of the social circle. Our thoughts

are more concentrated; our friendly sympathies more aroused. we feel more sensibly the charm of each

other's society, and are brought more closely together by dependence on each other for enjoyment. Heart

calleth unto heart; and we draw our pleasures from the deep wells of living kindness, which lie in the quiet

recesses of our bosoms: and which when resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of domestic felicity.

The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entering the room filled with the glow and warmth of the

evening fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights up each

countenance into a kindlier welcome. Where does the honest face of hospitality expand into a broader and

more cordial smilewhere is the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquentthan by the winter fireside?

and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall, claps the distant door, whistles about the

casement, and rumbles down the chimney, what can be more grateful than that feeling of sober and sheltered

security with which we look around upon the comfortable chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity?

The English, from the great prevalence of rural habits throughout every class of society, have always been

fond of those festivals and holidays which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life; and they were, in

former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even

the dry details which some antiquarians have given of the quaint humours, the burlesque pageants, the

complete abandonment to mirth and goodfellowship with which this festival was celebrated. It seemed to

throw open every door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended all

ranks in one warm generous flow of joy and kindness. The old halls of castles and manorhouses resounded

with the harp and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of hospitality. Even

the poorest cottage welcomed the festive season with green decorations of bay and hollythe cheerful fire

glanced its rays through the lattice, inviting the passenger to raise the latch, and join the gossip knot huddled

around the hearth, beguiling the long evening with legendary jokes and ofttold Christmas tales.

One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement is the havoc it has made among the hearty old holiday

customs. It has completely taken off the sharp touchings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of life,

and has worn down society into a more smooth and polished, but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many

of the games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely disappeared, and like the sherris sack of old Falstaff,

are become matters of speculation and dispute among commentators. They flourished in times full of spirit

and lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and vigorously; times wild and picturesque, which

have furnished poetry with its richest materials, and the drama with its most attractive variety of characters

and manners. The world has become more worldly. There is more of dissipation, and less of enjoyment.

Pleasure has expanded into a broader, but a shallower stream, and has forsaken many of those deep and quiet

channels where it flowed sweetly through the calm bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a more

enlightened and elegant tone; but it has lost many of its strong local peculiarities, its homebred feelings, its

honest fireside delights. The traditionary customs of goldenhearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities, and

lordly wassailings, have passed away with the baronial castles and stately manorhouses in which they were

celebrated. They comported with the shadowy hall, the great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlour, but are

Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honours, Christmas is still a period of delightful excitement

in England. It is gratifying to see that home feeling completely aroused which seems to hold so powerful a

place in every English bosom. The preparations making on every side for the social board that is again to

unite friends and kindred; the presents of good cheer passing and repassing, those tokens of regard, and

quickeners of kind feelings; the evergreens distributed about houses and churches, emblems of peace and

gladness; all these have the most pleasing effect in producing fond associations, and kindling benevolent

sympathies. Even the sound of the waits, rude as may be their minstrelsy, breaks upon the midwatches of a

winter night with the effect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened by them in that still and solemn

hour, "when deep sleep falleth upon man," I have listened with a hushed delight, and, connecting them with

the sacred and joyous occasion, have almost fancied them into another celestial choir, announcing peace and

How delightfully the imagination, when wrought upon by these moral influences, turns everything to melody

and beauty: The very crowing of the cock, who is sometimes heard in the profound repose of the country,

"telling the nightwatches to his feathery dames," was thought by the common people to announce the

Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, and stir of the affections, which prevail at this

period, what bosom can remain insensible? It is, indeed, the season of regenerated feelingthe season for

kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart.

The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile waste of years; and the idea of home,

fraught with the fragrance of homedwelling joys, reanimates the drooping spirit, as the Arabian breeze

will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the weary pilgrim of the desert.

Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land,though for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof

throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold,yet I feel the influence

of the season beaming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me. Surely happiness is reflective,

like the light of heaven; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is

a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever shining benevolence. He who can turn

churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow beings, and sit down darkling and repining in

his loneliness when all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish gratification,

but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas.

In the preceding paper I have made some general observations on the Christmas festivities of England, and

am tempted to illustrate them by some anecdotes of a Christmas passed in the country; in perusing which, I

would most courteously invite my reader to lay aside the austerity of wisdom, and to put on that genuine

In the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode for a long distance in one of the public coaches, on the

day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk,

seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations or friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded

also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of delicacies; and hares hung dangling their long ears

about the coachman's box,presents from distant friends for the impending feast. I had three fine

rosycheeked schoolboys for my fellow passengers inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit which I

have observed in the children of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and

promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of pleasure of the

little rogues, and the impracticable feats they were to perform during their six weeks' emancipation from the

abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meeting with the

family and household, down to the very cat and dog; and of the joy they were to give their little sisters by the

presents with which their pockets were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with

the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, possessed

of more virtues than any steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot! how he could run! and then

such leaps as he would takethere was not a hedge in the whole country that he could not clear.

They were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented,

they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the whole world. Indeed, I

could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a

little on one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens stuck in the buttonhole of his coat. He is

always a personage full of mighty care and business, but he is particularly so during this season, having so

many commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange of presents.

And here, perhaps, it may not be unacceptable to my untravelled readers to have a sketch that may serve as a

general representation of this very numerous and important class of functionaries who have a dress, a manner,

a language, an air, peculiar to themselves, and prevalent throughout the fraternity; so that, wherever an

English stagecoachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of any other craft or mystery.

He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard

feeding into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors,

and his bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the

upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broadbrimmed, lowcrowned hat; a huge roll of coloured

handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom; and has in summertime a large

bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole; the present, most probably, of some enamoured country lass. His

waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, striped; and his smallclothes extend far below the knees, to

All this costume is maintained with much precision; he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent

materials; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is still discernible that

neatness and propriety of person which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great consequence

and consideration along the road; has frequent conferences with the village housewives, who look upon him

as a man of great trust and dependence; and he seems to have a good understanding with every brighteyed

country lass. The moment he arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws down the reins with

something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the hostler; his duty being merely to drive from one

When off the box, his hands are thrust in the pockets of his greatcoat, and he rolls about the innyard with an

air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of hostlers,

stableboys, shoeblacks, and those nameless hangerson that infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and

do all kinds of odd jobs, for the privilege of battening on the drippings of the kitchen and the leakage of the

taproom. These all look up to him as to an oracle; treasure up his cant phrases; echo his opinions about

horses and other topics of jockey lore; and, above all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every

ragamuffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an

Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw

cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the journey. A stagecoach, however, carries animation always

with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The horn, sounded at the entrance of a village,

produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends; some with bundles and bandboxes to secure

places, and in the hurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the group that accompanies them. In the

meantime, the coachman has a world of small commissions to execute. Sometimes he delivers a hare or

pheasant; sometimes jerks a small parcel or newspaper to the door of a publichouse; and sometimes, with

knowing leer and words of sly import, hands to some half blushing, halflaughing housemaid an

oddshaped billetdoux from some rustic admirer. As the coach rattles through the village, every one runs to

the window, and you have glances on every side of fresh country faces, and blooming, giggling girls. At the

corners are assembled juntas of village idlers and wise men, who take their stations there for the important

purpose of seeing company pass; but the sagest knot is generally at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of

the coach is an event fruitful of much speculation. The smith, with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the

vehicle whirls by; the Cyclops round the anvil suspend their ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow

cool; and the sooty spectre in brown paper cap, labouring at the bellows, leans on the handle for a moment,

and permits the asthmatic engine to heave a longdrawn sigh, while he glares through the murky smoke and

Perhaps the impending holiday might have given a more than usual animation to the country, for it seemed to

me as if everybody was in good looks and good spirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were in

brisk circulation in the villages; the grocers', butchers', and fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers.

The housewives were stirring briskly about, putting their dwellings in order; and the glossy branches of holly,

with their bright red berries, began to appear at the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer's

account of Christmas preparations:"Now capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, and ducks, with beef

and muttonmust all die; for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums

and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now or never must music be in tune, for the

youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country maid leaves half her

market, and must be sent again, if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas eve. Great is the contention of

Holly and Ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice and cards benefit the butler; and if the cook

I was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation by a shout from my little travelling companions. They had

been looking out of the coachwindows for the last few miles, recognising every tree and cottage as they

approached home, and now there was a general burst of joy"There's John! and there's old Carlo! and

At the end of a lane there was an old soberlooking servant in livery waiting for them: he was accompanied

by a superannuated pointer, and by the redoubtable Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a shaggy mane and

long, rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside, little dreaming of the bustling times that awaited

I was pleased to see the fondness with which the little fellows leaped about the steady old footman, and

hugged the pointer, who wriggled his whole body for joy. But Bantam was the great object of interest; all

wanted to mount at once; and it was with some difficulty that John arranged that they should ride by turns,

Off they set at last; one on the pony, with the dog bounding and barking before him, and the others holding

John's hands; both talking at once, and overpowering him by questions about home, and with school

anecdotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which I do not know whether pleasure or melancholy

predominated: for I was reminded of those days when, like them, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a

holiday was the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped a few moments afterward to water the horses, and on

resuming our route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat country seat. I could just distinguish the

forms of a lady and two young girls in the portico, and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old

John, trooping along the carriage road. I leaned out of the coachwindow, in hopes of witnessing the happy

In the evening we reached a village where I had determined to pass the night. As we drove into the great

gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of a rousing kitchen fire beaming through a window. I entered,

and admired, for the hundredth time, that picture of convenience, neatness, and broad, honest enjoyment, the

kitchen of an English inn. It was of spacious dimensions, hung round with copper and tin vessels, highly

polished, and decorated here and there with a Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches of bacon were

suspended from the ceiling; a smokejack made its ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, and a clock ticked

in one corner. A well scoured deal table extended along one side of the kitchen, with a cold round of beef and

other hearty viands upon it, over which two foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting guard.

Travellers of inferior order were preparing to attack this stout repast, while others sat smoking and gossiping

over their ale on two highbacked oaken seats beside the fire. Trim housemaids were hurrying backwards

and forwards under the directions of a fresh, bustling landlady; but still seizing an occasional moment to

exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh, with the group round the fire. The scene completely

I had not been long at the inn when a postchaise drove up to the door. A young gentleman stepped out, and by

the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a countenance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get a

nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was not mistaken; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly, good

humoured young fellow, with whom I had once travelled on the Continent. Our meeting was extremely

cordial; for the countenance of an old fellow traveller always brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant

scenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was

impossible; and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was merely making a tour of observation, he

insisted that I should give him a day or two at his father's countryseat, to which he was going to pass the

holidays, and which lay at a few miles' distance. "It is better than eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an

inn," said he; "and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something of the oldfashion style." His

reasoning was cogent; and I must confess the preparation I had seen for universal festivity and social

enjoyment had made me feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I closed, therefore, at once with his

invitation: the chaise drove up to the door; and in a few moments I was on my way to the family mansion of

It was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold; our chaise whirled rapidly over the frozen ground; the

postboy smacked his whip incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on a gallop. "He knows where

he is going," said my companion, laughing, "and is eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and

good cheer of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is a bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides

himself upon keeping up something of old English hospitality. He is a tolerable specimen of what you will

rarely meet with nowadays in its purity, the old English country gentleman; for our men of fortune spend so

much of their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into the country, that the strong, rich peculiarities

of ancient rural life are almost polished away. My father, however, from early years, took honest Peacham*

for his textbook, instead of Chesterfield: he determined, in his own mind, that there was no condition more

truly honourable and enviable than that of a country gentleman on his paternal lands, and, therefore, passes

the whole of his time on his estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the old rural games and

holiday observances, and is deeply read in the writers, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject.

Indeed, his favourite range of reading is among the authors who flourished at least two centuries since; who,

he insists, wrote and thought more like true Englishmen than any of their successors. He even regrets

sometimes that he had not been born a few centuries earlier, when England was itself, and had its peculiar

manners and customs. As he lives at some distance from the main road, in rather a lonely part of the country,

without any rival gentry near him, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an Englishman, an opportunity

of indulging the bent of his own humour without molestation. Being representative of the oldest family in the

neighbourhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his tenants, he is much looked up to, and, in general, is

known simply by the appellation of 'The Squire;' a title which has been accorded to the head of the family

since time immemorial. I think it best to give you these hints about my worthy old father, to prepare you for

We had passed for some time along the wall of a park, and at length the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a

heavy, magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The huge

square columns that supported the gate were surmounted by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's

The postboy rang a large porter's bell, which resounded through the still, frosty air, and was answered by the

distant barking of dogs, with which the mansionhouse seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately

appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly upon her, I had full view of a little primitive dame,

dressed very much in the antique taste, with a neat kerchief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping from

under a cap of snowy whiteness. She came curtseying forth, with many expressions of simple joy at seeing

her young master. Her husband, it seems, was up at the house keeping Christmas eve in the servants' hall;

they could not do without him, as he was the best hand at a song and story in the household.

My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the park to the hall, which was at no great

distance, while the chaise should follow on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees, among the

naked branches of which the moon glittered as she rolled through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn

beyond was sheeted with a slight covering of snow, which here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught

a frosty crystal; and at a distance might be seen a thin, transparent vapour, stealing up from the low grounds,

My companion looked round him with transport:"How often," said he, "have I scampered up this avenue,

on returning home on school vacations! How often have I played under these trees when a boy! I feel a

degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up to those who have cherished us in childhood. My father was

always scrupulous in exacting our holidays, and having us around him on family festivals. He used to direct

and superintend our games with the strictness that some parents do the studies of their children. He was very

particular that we should play the old English games according to their original form and consulted old books

for precedent and authority for every 'merrie disport;' yet I assure you there never was pedantry so delightful.

It was the policy of the good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was the happiest place in the

world; and I value this delicious home feeling as one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow."

We were interrupted by the clangour of a troop of dogs of all sorts and sizes, "mongrel, puppy, whelp, and

hound, and curs of low degree," that, disturbed by the ringing of the porter's bell, and the rattling of the

cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice the bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a

moment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithful animals.

We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by

the cold moonshine. It was an irregular building of some magnitude, and seemed to be of the architecture of

different periods. One wing was, evidently very ancient, with heavy stoneshafted bow windows jutting out

and overrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the small diamondshaped panes of glass glittered

with the moonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French taste of Charles the Second's time, having been

repaired and altered, as my friend told me, by one of his ancestors, who returned with that monarch at the

Restoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in the old formal manner of artificial flowerbeds,

clipped shrubberies, raised terraces, and heavy stone balustrades, ornamented with urns, a leaden statue or

two, and a jet of water. The old gentleman, I was told, was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery

in all its original state. He admired this fashion in gardening; it had an air of magnificence, was courtly and

noble, and befitting good old family style. The boasted imitation of nature in modern gardening had sprung

up with modern republican notions, but did not suit a monarchical government; it smacked of the levelling

system. I could not help smiling at this introduction of politics into gardening, though I expressed some

apprehension that I should find the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. Frank assured me, however,

that it was almost the only instance in which he had ever heard his father meddle with politics; and he

believed that he had got this notion from a member of Parliament who once passed a few weeks with him.

The Squire was glad of any argument to defend his clipped yewtrees and formal terraces, which had been

As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and now and then a burst of laughter from one

end of the building. This, Bracebridge said, must proceed from the servants' hall, where a great deal of

revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, by the Squire throughout the twelve days of Christmas,

provided everything was done comformably to ancient usage. Here were kept up the old games of hoodman

blind, shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob apple and snapdragon: the Yule log and

Christmas candle were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe, with its white berries, hung up to the imminent peril

So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves

heard. On our arrival being announced, the Squire came out to receive us, accompanied by his two other sons;

one a young officer in the army, home on leave of absence; the other an Oxonian, just from the University.

The Squire was a fine, healthylooking old gentleman, with silver hair curling lightly round an open, florid

countenance; in which a physiognomist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hint or two, might

The family meeting was warm and affectionate; as the evening was far advanced, the Squire would not

permit us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which was assembled in a

large oldfashioned hall. It was composed of different branches of a numerous family connection, where

there were the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortably married dames, superannuated spinsters,

blooming country cousins, halffledged striplings, and brighteyed boardingschool hoydens. They were

variously occupied; some at a round game of cards; others conversing around the fireplace; at one end of the

hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender and budding age, fully

engrossed by a merry game; and a profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about the

floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, having frolicked through a happy day, had been

While the mutual greetings were going on between Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan the

apartment. I have called it a hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, and the Squire had evidently

endeavoured to restore it to something of its primitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace was

suspended a picture of a warrior in armour standing by a white horse, and on the opposite wall hung helmet,

buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, the branches serving as

hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs; and in the corners of the apartment were fowlingpieces,

fishingrods, and other sporting implements. The furniture was of the cumbrous workmanship of former

days, though some articles of modern convenience had been added, and the oaken floor had been carpeted; so

The grate had been removed from the wide overwhelming fireplace, to make way for a fire of wood, in the

midst of which was an enormous log glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat;

this I understood was the Yulelog, which the Squire was particular in having brought in and illumined on a

It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in his hereditary elbowchair by the hospitable fireside of

his ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and gladness to every heart.

Even the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look

fondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and stretch himself again to sleep, confident of

kindness and protection. There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be

described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated many

minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy cavalier before I found myself as much at home as if I had

Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of

which shone with wax, and around which were several family portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Beside

the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on

a highlypolished buffet among the family plate. The table was abundantly spread with substantial fare; but

the Squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in milk with rich spices, being a

standing dish in old times for Christmas eve. I was happy to find my old friend, mincedpie, in the retinue of

the feast; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predilection, I

greeted him with all the warmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance.

The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr.

Bracebridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man,

with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted

with the smallpox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frostbitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great

quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. He was

evidently the wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making

infinite merriment by harpings upon old themes; which, unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles

did not permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper to keep a young girl next him in a

continual agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite.

Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part of the company, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at

every turn of his countenance. I could not wonder at it; for he must have been a miracle of accomplishments

in their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy; make an old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a

burnt cork and pockethandkerchief: and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks

I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was an old bachelor of a small independent

income, which by careful management was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through the family

system like a vagrant comet in its orbit; sometimes visiting one branch, and sometimes another quite remote;

as is often the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and small fortunes in England. He had a

chirping, buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present moment; and his frequent change of scene and

company prevented his acquiring those rusty unacommodating habits with which old bachelors are so

uncharitably charged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the genealogy, history, and

intermarriages of the whole house of Bracebridge, which made him a great favourite with the old folks; he

was a beau of all the elder ladies and superannuated spinsters, among whom he was habitually considered

rather a young fellow, and he was a master of the revels among the children; so that there was not a more

popular being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr. Simon Bracebridge. Of late years he had resided

almost entirely with the Squire, to whom he had become a factotum, and whom he particularly delighted by

jumping with his humour in respect to old times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion.

We had presently a specimen of his last mentioned talent; for no sooner was supper removed, and spiced

wines and other beverages peculiar to the season introduced, than Master Simon was called on for a good old

Christmas song. He bethought himself for a moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was

by no means bad, excepting that it ran occasionally into a falsetto, like the notes of a split reed, he quavered

The supper had disposed every one to gaiety, and an old harper was summoned from the servants' hall, where

he had been strumming all the evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of the Squire's

homebrewed. He was a kind of hangeron, I was told, of the establishment, and though ostensibly a resident

of the village, was oftener to be found in the Squire's kitchen than his own home, the old gentleman being

The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one; some of the older folks joined in it, and the Squire

himself figured down several couples with a partner with whom he affirmed he had danced at every

Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemed to be a kind of connecting link between the

old times and the new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of his accomplishments, evidently

piqued himself on his dancing, and was endeavouring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and other

graces of the ancient school; but he had unluckily assorted himself with a little romping girl from

boardingschool, who, by her wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all his sober

attempts at elegance;such are the ill assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately

The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a

thousand little knaveries with impunity; he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts

and cousins; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was a universal favourite among the women. The most

interesting couple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of the Squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of

seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, I suspected there was a

little kindness growing up between them; and, indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a

romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and like most young British officers of late years, had

picked up various small accomplishments on the Continenthe could talk French and Italian draw

landscapes,sing very tolerablydance divinely; but above all he had been wounded at Waterloo;what

girl of seventeen, well read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection!

The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an

attitude which I am half inclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the Troubadour. The

Squire, however, exclaimed against having anything on Christmas eve but good old English; upon which the

young minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of memory, struck into another strain, and,

The song might have been intended in compliment to the fair Julia, for so I found his partner was called, or it

might not; she, however, was certainly unconscious of any such application, for she never looked at the

singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there

was a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtless caused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so

great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hothouse

flowers, and by the time the song was concluded, the nosegay lay in ruins on the floor.

The party now broke up for the night with the kindhearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed through

the hall, on the way to my chamber, the dying embers of the Yuleclog still sent forth a dusky glow; and had

it not been the season when "no spirit dares stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my

room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at their revels about the hearth.

My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous furniture of which might have been fabricated

in the days of the giants. The room was panelled with cornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers and

grotesque faces were strangely intermingled; and a row of black looking portraits stared mournfully at me

from the walls. The bed was of rich though faded damask, with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a

bow window. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of music seemed to break forth in the air just below

the window. I listened, and found it proceeded from a band, which I concluded to be the waits from some

I drew aside the curtains, to hear them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell through the upper part of the

casement, partially lighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded, became more soft and

aerial, and seemed to accord with quiet and moonlight. I listened and listenedthey became more and more

tender and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sank upon the pillow and I fell asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, it seemed as if all the events of the preceding evening had been a dream,

and nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber convinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on my

pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside of the door, and a whispering consultation. Presently a

choir of small voices chanted forth an old Christmas carol, the burden of which was:

I rose softly, slipped on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little

It consisted of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six, and lovely as seraphs. They were going the

rounds of the house, and singing at every chamberdoor; but my sudden appearance frightened them into

mute bashfulness. They remained for a moment playing on their lips with their fingers, and now and then

stealing a shy glance, from under their eyebrows, until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, and as

they turned an angle of the gallery, I heard them laughing in triumph at their escape.

Everything conspired to produce kind and happy feelings in this stronghold of oldfashioned hospitality. The

window of my chamber looked out upon what in summer would have been a beautiful landscape. There was a

sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of it, and a tract of park beyond, with noble clumps of trees,

and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging over

it; and a church with its dark spire in strong relief against the clear, cold sky. The house was surrounded with

evergreens, according to the English custom, which would have given almost an appearance of summer; but

the morning was extremely frosty; the light vapour of the preceding evening had been precipitated by the

cold, and covered all the trees and every blade of grass with its fine crystallisations. The rays of a bright

morning sun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage. A robin, perched upon the top of a mountain

ash that hung its clusters of red berries just before my window, was basking himself in the sunshine, and

piping a few querulous notes; and a peacock was displaying all the glories of his train, and strutting with the

I had scarcely dressed myself, when a servant appeared to invite me to family prayers. He showed me the

way to a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I found the principal part of the family already

assembled in a kind of gallery, furnished with cushions, hassocks, and large prayerbooks; the servants were

seated on benches below. The old gentleman read prayers from a desk in front of the gallery, and Master

Simon acted as clerk, and made the responses; and I must do him the justice to say that he acquitted himself

The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which Mr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem

of his favourite author, Herrick; and it had been adapted to an old church melody by Master Simon. As there

were several good voices among the household, the effect was extremely pleasing; but I was particularly

gratified by the exaltation of heart, and sudden sally of grateful feeling, with which the worthy Squire

delivered one stanza: his eyes glistening, and his voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune:

I afterwards understood that early morning service was read on every Sunday and saint's day throughout the

year, either by Mr. Bracebridge or by some member of the family. It was once almost universally the case at

the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and it is much to be regretted that the custom is fallen into

neglect; for the dullest observer must be sensible of the order and serenity prevalent in those households,

where the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship in the morning gives, as it were, the keynote to

Our breakfast consisted of what the Squire denominated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter

lamentations over modern breakfasts of teaandtoast, which he censured as among the causes of modern

effeminacy and weak nerves, and the decline of old English heartiness; and though he admitted them to his

table to suit the palates of his guests, yet there was a brave display of cold meats, wine, and ale, on the

After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank Bracebridge and Master Simon, or Mr. Simon as he

was called by everybody but the Squire. We were escorted by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemed

loungers about the establishment; from the frisking spaniel to the steady old staghound; the last of which was

of a race that had been in the family time out of mind: they were all obedient to a dogwhistle which hung to

Master Simon's buttonhole, and in the midst of their gambols would glance an eye occasionally upon a small

The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight; and I could

not but feel the force of the Squire's idea, that the formal terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped

yewtrees, carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. There appeared to be an unusual number of

peacocks about the place, and I was making some remarks upon what I termed a flock of them, that were

basking under a sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phraseology by Master Simon, who told me

that, according to the most ancient and approved treatise on hunting, I must say a MUSTER of peacocks. "In

the same way," added he, with a slight air of pedantry, "we say a flight of doves or swallows, a bevy of

quails, a herd of deer, of wrens, or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks." He went on to inform me,

that, according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe, to this bird "both understanding and glory;

for, being praised, he will presently set up his tail chiefly against the sun, to the intent you may the better

behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf, when his tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in

I could not help smiling at this display of small erudition on so whimsical a subject; but I found that the

peacocks were birds of some consequence at the Hall, for Frank Bracebridge informed me that they were

great favourites with his father, who was extremely careful to keep up the breed; partly because they

belonged to chivalry, and were in great request at the stately banquets of the olden time; and partly because

they had a pomp and magnificence about them, highly becoming an old family mansion. Nothing, he was

accustomed to say, had an air of greater state and dignity than a peacock perched upon an antique stone

Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appointment at the parish church with the village choristers,

who were to perform some music of his selection. There was something extremely agreeable in the cheerful

flow of animal spirits of the little man; and I confess I had been somewhat surprised at his apt quotations

from authors who certainly were not in the range of everyday reading. I mentioned this last circumstance to

Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that Master Simon's whole stock of erudition was confined to

some halfadozen old authors, which the Squire had put into his hands, and which he read over and over,

whenever he had a studious fit; as he sometimes had on a rainy day, or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony

Fitzherbert's "Book of Husbandry;" Markham's "Country Contentments;" the "Tretyse of Hunting," by Sir

Thomas Cockayne, Knight; Izaak Walton's "Angler," and two or three more such ancient worthies of the pen,

were his standard authorities; and, like all men who know but a few books, he looked up to them with a kind

of idolatry, and quoted them on all occasions. As to his songs, they were chiefly picked out of old books in

the Squire's library, and adapted to tunes that were popular among the choice spirits of the last century. His

practical application of scraps of literature, however, had caused him to be looked upon as a prodigy of

bookknowledge by all the grooms, huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighbourhood.

While we were talking we heard the distant toll of the village bell, and I was told that the Squire was a little

particular in having his household at church on a Christmas morning; considering it a day of pouring out of

"If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank Bracebridge, "I can promise you a specimen of my cousin

Simon's musical achievements. As the church is destitute of an organ, he has formed a band from the village

amateurs, and established a musical club for their improvement; he has also sorted a choir, as he sorted my

father's pack of hounds, according to the directions of Jervaise Markham, in his "Country Contentments;" for

the bass he has sought out all the 'deep solemn mouths,' and for the tenor the 'loud ringing mouths,' among the

country bumpkins; and for 'sweet mouths,' he has culled with curious taste among the prettiest lasses in the

neighbourhood; though these last, he affirms, are the most difficult to keep in tune; your pretty female singer

As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine and clear, the most of the family walked to the church,

which was a very old building of gray stone, and stood near a village, about half a mile from the park gate.

Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed coeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly

matted with a yewtree that had been trained against its walls, through the dense foliage of which apertures

had been formed to admit light into the small antique lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parson

I had expected to see a sleek, wellconditioned pastor, such as is often found in a snug living in the vicinity

of a rich patron's table; but I was disappointed. The parson was a little, meagre, blacklooking man, with a

grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each ear; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away

within it, like a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts, and pockets that would have

held the church Bible and prayerbook; and his small legs seemed still smaller, from being planted in large

I was informed by Frank Bracebridge that the parson had been a chum of his father's at Oxford, and had

received this living shortly after the latter had come to his estate. He was a complete black letter hunter, and

would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman character. The editions of Caxton and Wynkin de Worde

were his delight; and he was indefatigable in his researches after such old English writers as have fallen into

oblivion from their worthlessness. In deference, perhaps, to the notions of Mr. Bracebridge, he had made

diligent investigations into the festive rites and holiday customs of former times; and had been as zealous in

the inquiry as if he had been a boon companion; but it was merely with that plodding spirit with which men

of adust temperament follow up any track of study, merely because it is denominated learning; indifferent to

its intrinsic nature, whether it be the illustration of the wisdom, or of the ribaldry and obscenity of antiquity.

He had pored over these old volumes so intensely, that they seemed to have been reflected into his

countenance indeed; which, if the face be an index of the mind, might be compared to a titlepage of

On reaching the church porch, we found the parson rebuking the grayheaded sexton for having used

mistletoe among the greens with which the church was decorated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant,

profaned by having been used by the Druids in their mystic ceremonies; and though it might be innocently

employed in the festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it had been deemed by the Fathers of the

Church as unhallowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tenacious was he on this point, that the poor

sexton was obliged to strip down a great part of the humble trophies of his taste, before the parson would

The interior of the church was venerable but simple; on the walls were several mural monuments of the

Bracebridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of ancient workmanship, on which lay the effigy of a

warrior in armour, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a crusader. I was told it was one of the

family who had signalised himself in the Holy Land, and the same whose picture hung over the fireplace in

During service, Master Simon stood up in the pew, and repeated the responses very audibly; evincing that

kind of ceremonious devotion punctually observed by a gentleman of the old school, and a man of old family

connections. I observed, too, that he turned over the leaves of a folio prayerbook with something of a

flourish; possibly to show off an enormous sealring which enriched one of his fingers, and which had the

look of a family relic. But he was evidently most solicitous about the musical part of the service, keeping his

eye fixed intently on the choir, and beating time with much gesticulation and emphasis.

The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most whimsical grouping of heads, piled one above the

other, among which I particularly noticed that of the village tailor, a pale fellow with a retreating forehead

and chin, who played on the clarionet, and seemed to have blown his face to a point; and there was another, a

short pursy man, stooping and labouring at a bass viol, so as to show nothing but the top of a round bald

head, like the egg of an ostrich. There were two or three pretty faces among the female singers, to which the

keen air of a frosty morning had given a bright rosy tint; but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been

chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than looks; and as several had to sing from the same book,

there were clusterings of odd physiognomies, not unlike those groups of cherubs we sometimes see on

The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little behind

the instrumental, and some loitering fiddler now and then making up for lost time by travelling over a

passage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more bars than the keenest foxhunter to be in at the death. But

the great trial was an anthem that had been prepared and arranged by Master Simon, and on which he had

founded great expectation. Unluckily there was a blunder at the very outset; the musicians became flurried;

Master Simon was in a fever; everything went on lamely and irregularly until they came to a chorus

beginning "Now let us sing with one accord," which seemed to be a signal for parting company: all became

discord and confusion; each shifted for himself, and got to the end as well, or rather as soon, as he could,

excepting one old chorister in a pair of horn spectacles bestriding and pinching a long sonorous nose; who,

happening to stand a little apart, and being wrapped up in his own melody, kept on a quavering course,

wriggling his head, ogling his book, and winding all up by a nasal solo of at least three bars' duration.

The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites and ceremonies of Christmas, and the propriety of

observing it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but of rejoicing; supporting the correctness of his opinions

by the earliest usages of the Church, and enforcing them by the authorities of Theophilus of Cesarea, St.

Cyprian, St. Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and a cloud more of Saints and Fathers, from whom he made

copious quotations. I was a little at a loss to perceive the necessity of such a mighty array of forces to

maintain a point which no one present seemed inclined to dispute; but I soon found that the good man had a

legion of ideal adversaries to contend with; having, in the course of his researches on the subject of

Christmas, got completely embroiled in the sectarian controversies of the Revolution, when the Puritans

made such a fierce assault upon the ceremonies of the Church, and poor old Christmas was driven out of the

land by proclamation of Parliament.* The worthy parson lived but with times past, and knew but a little of

Shut up among wormeaten tomes in the retirement of his antiquated little study, the pages of old times were

to him as the gazettes of the day; while the era of the Revolution was mere modern history. He forgot that

nearly two centuries had elapsed since the fiery persecution of poor mincepie throughout the land; when

plum porridge was denounced as "mere popery," and roast beef as antichristian; and that Christmas had

been brought in again triumphantly with the merry court of King Charles at the Restoration. He kindled into

warmth with the ardour of his contest, and the host of imaginary foes with whom he had to combat; had a

stubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other forgotten champions of the Roundheads, on the

subject of Christmas festivity; and concluded by urging his hearers, in the most solemn and affecting manner,

to stand to the traditionary customs of their fathers, and feast and make merry on this joyful anniversary of

I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently with more immediate effects; for, on leaving the church,

the congregation seemed one and all possessed with the gaiety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their pastor.

The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, greeting and shaking hands; and the children ran about

crying, Ule! Ule! and repeating some uncouth rhymes,* which the parson, who had joined us, informed me

had been handed down from days of yore. The villagers doffed their hats to the Squire as he passed, giving

him the good wishes of the season with every appearance of heartfelt sincerity, and were invited by him to

the Hall, to take something to keep out the cold of the weather; and I heard blessings uttered by several of the

poor, which convinced me that, in the midst of his enjoyments, the worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the

On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowing with generous and happy feelings. As we passed over a

rising ground which commanded something of a prospect, the sounds of rustic merriment now and then

reached our ears; the Squire paused for a few moments, and looked around with an air of inexpressible

benignity. The beauty of the day was of itself sufficient to inspire philanthropy. Notwithstanding the

frostiness of the morning, the sun in his cloudless journey had acquired sufficient power to melt away the thin

covering of snow from every southern declivity, and to bring out the living green which adorns an English

landscape even in midwinter. Large tracts of smiling verdure contrasted with the dazzling whiteness of the

shaded slopes and hollows. Every sheltered bank on which the broad rays rested yielded its silver rill of cold

and limpid water, glittering through the dripping grass; and sent up slight exhalations to contribute to the thin

haze that hung just above the surface of the earth. There was something truly cheering in this triumph of

warmth and verdure over the frosty thraldom of winter; it was, as the Squire observed, an emblem of

Christmas hospitality, breaking through the chills of ceremony and selfishness, and thawing every heart into a

flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indications of good cheer reeking from the chimneys of the comfortable

farmhouses and low, thatched cottages. "I love," said he, "to see this day well kept by rich and poor; it is a

great thing to have one day in the year, at least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you go, and of

having, as it were, the world all thrown open to you; and I am almost disposed to join with Poor Robin, in his

The Squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games and amusements which were once prevalent

at this season among the lower orders, and countenanced by the higher: when the old halls of castles and

manorhouses were thrown open at daylight; when the tables were covered with brawn, and beef, and

humming ale; when the harp and the carol resounded all day long, and when rich and poor were alike

welcome to enter and make merry.* "Our old games and local customs," said he, "had a great effect in

making the peasant fond of his home, and the promotion of them, by the gentry made him fond of his lord.

They made the times merrier, and kinder, and better; and I can truly say, with one of our old poets:

"The nation," continued he, "is altered; we have almost lost our simple, truehearted peasantry. They have

broken asunder from the higher classes, and seem to think their interests are separate. They have become too

knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to alehouse politicians, and talk of reform. I think one mode to

keep them in good humour in these hard times would be for the nobility and gentry to pass more time on their

estates, mingle more among the country people, and set the merry old English games going again."

Such was the good Squire's project for mitigating public discontent; and, indeed, he had once attempted to

put his doctrine in practice, and a few years before had kept open house during the holidays in the old style.

The country people, however, did not understand how to play their parts in the scene of hospitality; many

uncouth circumstances occurred; the manor was overrun by all the vagrants of the country, and more beggars

drawn into the neighbourhood in one week than the parish officers could get rid of in a year. Since then, he

had contented himself with inviting the decent part of the neighbouring peasantry to call at the Hall on

Christmas Day, and distributing beef, and bread, and ale, among the poor, that they might make merry in their

We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a distance. A band of country lads,

without coats, their shirt sleeves fancifully tied with ribands, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in

their hands, were seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a large number of villagers and peasantry. They

stopped before the hall door, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and

intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their clubs together, keeping exact time to the music; while

one, whimsically crowned with a fox's skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept capering around

the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmasbox with many antic gesticulations.

The Squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great interest and delight, and gave me a full account of its

origin, which he traced to the times when the Romans held possession of the island; plainly proving that this

was a lineal descendant of the sworddance of the ancients. "It was now," he said, "nearly extinct, but he had

accidentally met with traces of it in the neighbourhood, and had encouraged its revival; though, to tell the

truth, it was too apt to be followed up by rough cudgelplay and broken heads in the evening."

After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with brawn and beef, and stout

homebrewed. The Squire himself mingled among the rustics, and was received with awkward

It is true, I perceived two or three of the younger peasants, as they were raising their tankards to their mouths

when the Squire's back was turned, making something of a grimace, and giving each other the wink; but the

moment they caught my eye they pulled grave faces, and were exceedingly demure. With Master Simon,

His varied occupations and amusements had made him well known throughout the neighbourhood. He was a

visitor at every farmhouse and cottage; gossiped with the farmers and their wives; romped with their

daughters; and, like that type of a vagrant bachelor, the bumblebee, tolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of

The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before good cheer and affability. There is something genuine

and affectionate in the gaiety of the lower orders, when it is excited by the bounty and familiarity of those

above them; the warm glow of gratitude enters into their mirth, and a kind word or a small pleasantry, frankly

uttered by a patron, gladdens the heart of the dependant more than oil and wine. When the Squire had retired,

the merriment increased, and there was much joking and laughter, particularly between Master Simon and a

hale, ruddyfaced, whiteheaded farmer, who appeared to be the wit of the village; for I observed all his

companions to wait with open mouths for his retorts, and burst into a gratuitous laugh before they could well

The whole house, indeed, seemed abandoned to merriment. As I passed to my room to dress for dinner, I

heard the sound of music in a small court, and, looking through a window that commanded it, I perceived a

band of wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and tambourine; a pretty, coquettish housemaid was

dancing a jig with a smart country lad, while several of the other servants were looking on. In the midst of her

sport the girl caught a glimpse of my face at the window, and, colouring up, ran off with an air of roguish

I had finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a distant

thwacking sound, which he informed me was a signal for the serving up of the dinner. The Squire kept up old

customs in kitchen as well as hall; and the rollingpin, struck upon the dresser by the cook, summoned the

The dinner was served up in the great hall, where the Squire always held his Christmas banquet. A blazing,

crackling fire of logs had been heaped on to warm the spacious apartment, and the flame went sparkling and

wreathing up the widemouthed chimney. The great picture of the crusader and his white horse had been

profusely decorated with greens for the occasion; and holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed around the

helmet and weapons on the opposite wall, which I understood were the arms of the same warrior. I must own,

by the by, I had strong doubts about the authenticity of painting and armour as having belonged to the

crusader, they certainly having the stamp of more recent days; but I was told that the painting had been so

considered time out of mind; and that as to the armour, it had been found in a lumber room, and elevated to

its present situation by the Squire, who at once determined it to be the armour of the family hero; and as he

was absolute authority on all such subjects to his own household, the matter had passed into current

acceptation. A sideboard was set out just under this chivalric trophy, on which was a display of plate that

might have vied (at least in variety) with Belshazzar's parade of the vessels of the Temple: "flagons, cans,

cups, beakers, goblets, basins, and ewers;" the gorgeous utensils of good companionship, that had gradually

accumulated through many generations of jovial housekeepers. Before these stood the two Yule candles,

beaming like two stars of the first magnitude: other lights were distributed in branches, and the whole array

We were ushered into this banqueting scene with the sound of minstrelsy, the old harper being seated on a

stool beside the fireplace, and twanging his instrument with a vast deal more power than melody. Never did

Christmas board display a more goodly and gracious assemblage of countenances; those who were not

handsome were, at least, happy; and happiness is a rare improver of your hardfavoured visage.

I always consider an old English family as well worth studying as a collection of Holbein's portraits or Albert

Durer's prints. There is much antiquarian lore to be acquired; much knowledge of the physiognomies of

former times. Perhaps it may be from having continually before their eyes those rows of old family portraits,

with which the mansions of this country are stocked; certain it is, that the quaint features of antiquity are

often most faithfully perpetuated in these ancient lines; and I have traced an old family nose through a whole

picturegallery, legitimately handed down from generation to generation, almost from the time of the

Conquest. Something of the kind was to be observed in the worthy company around me. Many of their faces

had evidently originated in a Gothic age, and been merely copied by succeeding generations; and there was

one little girl, in particular, of staid demeanour, with a high Roman nose, and an antique vinegar aspect, who

was a great favourite of the Squire's, being, as he said, a Bracebridge all over, and the very counterpart of one

The parson said grace, which was not a short, familiar one, such as is commonly addressed to the Deity, in

these unceremonious days; but a long, courtly, wellworded one of the ancient school.

There was now a pause, as if something was expected; when suddenly the butler entered the hall with some

degree of bustle; he was attended by a servant on each side with a large waxlight, and bore a silver dish, on

which was an enormous pig's head, decorated with rosemary, with a lemon in its mouth, which was placed

with great formality at the head of the table. The moment this pageant made its appearance, the harper struck

up a flourish; at the conclusion of which the young Oxonian, on receiving a hint from the Squire, gave, with

an air of the most comic gravity, an old carol, the first verse of which was as follows:

Though prepared to witness many of these little eccentricities, from being apprised of the peculiar hobby of

mine host; yet, I confess, the parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me, until I

gathered from the conversation of the Squire and the parson that it was meant to represent the bringing in of

the boar's head: a dish formerly served up with much ceremony, and the sound of minstrelsy and song, at

great tables on Christmas Day. "I like the old custom," said the Squire, "not merely because it is stately and

pleasing in itself, but because it was observed at the College of Oxford, at which I was educated. When I hear

the old song chanted, it brings to mind the time when I was young and gamesomeand the noble old

collegehalland my fellow students loitering about in their black gowns; many of whom, poor lads, are

The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by such associations, and who was always more taken up

with the text than the sentiment, objected to the Oxonian's version of the carol: which he affirmed was

different from that sung at college. He went on, with the dry perseverance of a commentator, to give the

college reading, accompanied by sundry annotations: addressing himself at first to the company at large; but

finding their attention gradually diverted to other talk, and other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of

auditors diminished, until he concluded his remarks, in an under voice, to a fatheaded old gentleman next

The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an epitome of country abundance, in this season

of overflowing larders. A distinguished post was allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host termed it; being, as

he added, "the standard of old English hospitality, and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expectation."

There were several dishes quaintly decorated, and which had evidently something traditionary in their

embellishments; but about which, as I did not like to appear over curious, I asked no questions. I could not,

however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with peacocks' feathers, in imitation of the tail of that bird,

which overshadowed a considerable tract of the table. This, the Squire confessed, with some little hesitation,

was a pheasant pie, though a peacockpie was certainly the most authentical; but there had been such a

mortality among the peacocks this season, that he could not prevail upon himself to have one killed.*

It would be tedious, perhaps, to my wiser readers, who may not have that foolish fondness for odd and

obsolete things to which I am a little given, were I to mention the other makeshifts of this worthy old

humourist, by which he was endeavouring to follow up, though at humble distance, the quaint customs of

antiquity. I was pleased, however, to see the respect shown to his whims by his children and relatives; who,

indeed, entered readily into the full spirit of them, and seemed all well versed in their parts; having doubtless

been present at many a rehearsal. I was amused, too, at the air of profound gravity with which the butler and

other servants executed the duties assigned them, however eccentric. They had an old fashioned look;

having, for the most part, been brought up in the household, and grown into keeping with the antiquated

mansion, and the humours of its lord; and most probably looked upon all his whimsical regulations as the

established laws of honourable housekeeping. When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a huge

silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship, which he placed before the Squire. Its appearance was hailed

with acclamation; being the Wassail Bowl, so renowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had been

prepared by the Squire himself; for it was a beverage in the skilful mixture of which he particularly prided

himself, alleging that it was too abstruse and complex for the comprehension of an ordinary servant. It was a

potation, indeed, that might well make the heart of a toper leap within him; being composed of the richest and

raciest wines, highly spiced and sweetened, with roasted apples bobbing about the surface.*

The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with a serene look of indwelling delight, as he stirred this

mighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a hearty wish of a merry Christmas to all present, he sent it

brimming, around the board, for every one to follow his example, according to the primitive style;

pronouncing it "the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all hearts met together."*

There was much laughing and rallying, as the honest emblem of Christmas joviality circulated, and was

kissed rather coyly by the ladies. When it reached Master Simon he raised it in both hands, and with the air of

Much of the conversation during dinner turned upon family topics, to which I was a stranger. There was,

however, a great deal of rallying of Master Simon about some gay widow, with whom he was accused of

having a flirtation. This attack was commenced by the ladies; but it was continued throughout the dinner by

the fat headed old gentleman next the parson, with the persevering assiduity of a slowhound; being one of

those longwinded jokers, who, though rather dull at starting game, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting

it down. At every pause in the general conversation, he renewed his bantering in pretty much the same terms;

winking hard at me with both eyes whenever he gave Master Simon what he considered a home thrust. The

latter, indeed, seemed fond of being teased on the subject, as old bachelors are apt to be; and he took occasion

to inform me, in an undertone, that the lady in question was a prodigiously fine woman, and drove her own

The dinnertime passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity; and, though the old hall may have resounded

in its time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more honest and

genuine enjoyment. How easy it is for one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him; and how truly is

a kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity to freshen into smiles! The joyous

disposition of the worthy Squire was perfectly contagious; he was happy himself, and disposed to make all

the world happy; and the little eccentricities of his humour did but season, in a manner, the sweetness of his

When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as usual, became still more animated; many good things were

broached which had been thought of during dinner, but which would not exactly do for a lady's ear; and

though I cannot positively affirm that there was much wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of

rare wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a mighty tart, pungent ingredient, and much too acid for

some stomachs; but honest good humour is the oil and wine of a merry meeting, and there is no jovial

companionship equal to that where the jokes are rather small, and the laughter abundant. The Squire told

several long stories of early college pranks and adventures, in some of which the parson had been a sharer;

though in looking at the latter, it required some effort of imagination to figure such a little dark anatomy of a

man into the perpetrator of a madcap gambol. Indeed, the two college chums presented pictures of what men

may be made by their different lots in life. The Squire had left the university to live lustily on his paternal

domains, in the vigorous enjoyment of prosperity and sunshine, and had flourished on to a hearty and florid

old age; whilst the poor parson, on the contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, in the

Still there seemed to be a spark of almost extinguished fire, feebly glimmering in the bottom of his soul; and

as the Squire hinted at a sly story of the parson and a pretty milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of

the Isis, the old gentleman made an "alphabet of faces," which, as far as I could decipher his physiognomy, I

verily believe was indicative of laughter;indeed, I have rarely met with an old gentleman who took

I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on the dry land of sober judgment. The company grew

merrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Master Simon was in as chirping a humour as a grasshopper

filled with dew; his old songs grew of a warmer complexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow.

He even gave a long song about the wooing of a widow, which he informed me he had gathered from an

excellent blackletter work, entitled "Cupid's Solicitor for Love," containing store of good advice for

bachelors, and which he promised to lend me. The first verse was to this effect:

This song inspired the fatheaded old gentleman, who made several attempts to tell a rather broad story out

of Joe Miller, that was pat to the purpose; but he always stuck in the middle, everybody recollecting the latter

part excepting himself. The parson, too, began to show the effects of good cheer, having gradually settled

down into a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on one side. Just at this juncture we were summoned

to the drawingroom, and, I suspect, at the private instigation of mine host, whose joviality seemed always

After the dinnertable was removed, the hall was given up to the younger members of the family, who,

prompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, made its old walls ring with their

merriment, as they played at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gambols of children, and particularly

at this happy holidayseason, and could not help stealing out of the drawingroom on hearing one of their

peals of laughter. I found them at the game of blindman's buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their

revels, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule,* was

blinded in the midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about Falstaff;

pinching him, plucking at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One fine blueeyed girl of

about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her frock half torn off

her shoulders, a complete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor; and from the slyness with which Master

Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump

shrieking over chairs, I suspected the rogue of being not a whit more blinded than was convenient.

When I returned to the drawingroom, I found the company seated around the fire, listening to the parson,

who was deeply ensconced in a highbacked oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which

had been brought from the library for his particular accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture,

with which his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so admirably accorded, he was dealing forth strange

accounts of popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become

acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined to think that the old gentleman was

himself somewhat tinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be who live a recluse and studious life in

a sequestered part of the country, and pore over blackletter tracts, so often filled with the marvellous and

supernatural. He gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the neighbouring peasantry, concerning the

effigy of the crusader which lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it was the only monument of the kind in

that part of the country, it had always been regarded with feelings of superstition by the goodwives of the

village. It was said to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of the churchyard in stormy nights,

particularly when it thundered; and one old woman, whose cottage bordered on the churchyard, had seen it,

through the windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and down the aisles. It was the

belief that some wrong had been left unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the

spirit in a state of trouble and restlessness. Some talked of gold and jewels buried in the tomb, over which the

spectre kept watch; and there was a story current of a sexton in old times who endeavoured to break his way

to the coffin at night; but just as he reached it, received a violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy,

which stretched him senseless on the pavement. These tales were often laughed at by some of the sturdier

among the rustics, yet when night came on, there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were shy of

venturing alone in the footpath that led across the churchyard. From these and other anecdotes that followed,

the crusader appeared to be the favourite hero of ghost stories throughout the vicinity. His picture, which

hung up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have something supernatural about it; for they remarked

that, in whatever part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior were still fixed on you. The old porter's

wife, too, at the lodge, who had been born and brought up in the family, and was a great gossip among the

maid servants, affirmed that in her young days she had often heard say that on Midsummer eve, when it is

well known all kinds of ghosts, goblins, and fairies become visible and walk abroad, the crusader used to

mount his horse, come down from his picture, ride about the house, down the avenue, and so to the church to

visit the tomb; on which occasion the church door most civilly swung open of itself: not that he needed it; for

he rode through closed gates and even stone walls, and had been seen by one of the dairymaids to pass

between two bars of the great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper.

All these superstitions, I found, had been very much countenanced by the Squire, who, though not

superstitious himself, was very fond of seeing others so. He listened to every goblin tale of the neighbouring

gossips with infinite gravity, and held the porter's wife in high favour on account of her talent for the

marvellous. He was himself a great reader of old legends and romances, and often lamented that he could not

believe in them; for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a kind of fairyland.

Whilst we were all attention to the parson's stories, our ears were suddenly assailed by a burst of

heterogeneous sounds from the hall, in which was mingled something like the clang of rude minstrelsy, with

the uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping

into the room, that might almost have been mistaken for the breaking up of the court of Fairy. That

indefatigable spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of his duties as Lord of Misrule, had conceived

the idea of a Christmas mummery, or masking; and having called in to his assistance the Oxonian and the

young officer, who were 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 clothespresses 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

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 frostbitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was

accompanied by the blueeyed romp, dished up as "Dame MincePie," in the venerable magnificence of

faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and highheeled shoes. The young officer appeared as Robin

Hood, in a sporting dress of Kendal green and a foraging cap with a gold tassel. The costume, to be sure, did

not bear testimony to deep research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young

gallant in the presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a 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 fullbottomed 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; and I observed that he exercised rather a mischievous sway with his

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 MincePie. It was followed by a

dance of all the characters, which, from its medley of costumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had

skipped down from their frames to join in the sport. Different centuries were figuring at cross hands and right

and left; the dark ages were cutting pirouettes and rigadoons; and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily

The worthy Squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the

simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the

parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately

dance at the Paon, or Peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.* For my part, I was in a

continual excitement, from the varied scenes of whim and innocent gaiety passing before me. It was inspiring

to see wildeyed frolic and warmhearted hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of

winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I

felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into

oblivion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of them were still

punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry that gave it a peculiar zest;

it was suited to the time and place; and as the old Manor House almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it

But enough of Christmas and its gambols; it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the

questions asked by my graver readers, "To what purpose is all this?how is the world to be made wiser by

this talk?" Alas! is there not wisdom enough extant for the instruction of the world? And if not, are there not

thousands of abler pens labouring for its improvement?It is so much pleasanter to please than to

What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge? or how am I sure that

my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others? But in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only

evil is my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one

wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now and then

penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make

my reader more in good humour with his fellow beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have

The misletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens at Christmas; and the young men have the privilege

of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all plucked, the

The Yuleclog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, brought into the house with great

ceremony, on Christmas eve, laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. While it

lasted there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales. Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas

candles, but in the cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire. The Yuleclog

The Yuleclog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in England, particularly in the north, and there

are several superstitions connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come to the house while

it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is considered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yuleclog is

From the Flying Eagle, a small gazette, published December 24, 1652: "The House spent much time this day

about the business of the Navy, for settling the affairs at sea; and before they rose, were presented with a

terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, grounded upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17;

and in honour of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. I; Rev. i. 10; Psalm cxviii. 24;

Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xvi. 8; Psalm lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti Christ's masse, and those

Massmongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In consequence of which Parliament spent some time in

consultation about the abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and resolved to sit on the

An English gentleman at the opening of the great day, i. e. on Christmas day in the morning, had all his

tenants and neighbours enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black jacks went

plentifully about with toast, sugar, nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese. The hackin (the great sausage) must be

boiled by daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i.e. the cook) by the arms and run her

round the marketplace till she is shamed of her laziness.Round about our Seacoal Fire.

The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas day is still observed in the hall of Queen's

College, Oxford. I was favoured by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and as it may be

acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these grave and learned matters, I give it entire.

The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately entertainments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at

one end of which the head appeared above the crust in all its plumage, with the beak richly gilt; at the other

end the tail was displayed. Such pies were served up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when knightserrant

pledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise; whence came the ancient oath, used by Justice

The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast; and Massinger, in his "City Madam," gives

some idea of the extravagance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared for the gorgeous revels

"Men may talk of country Christmasses, Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues: Their

pheasants drench'd with ambergris; the carcases of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to make sauce for a

The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of wine; with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and

roasted crabs; in this way the nutbrown beverage is still prepared in some old families, and round the

hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also called Lambs' Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his

The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each having his cup. When the steward came to the

doore with the Wassel, he was to cry three times, Wassel, Wassel, Wassel, and then the chappel (chaplain)

At Christmasse there was in the Kings's house, wheresoever hee was lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of

merry disportes; and the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honour, or good worshippe, were he

Maskings or mummeries were favourite sports at Christmas in old times; and the wardrobes at halls and

manorhouses were often laid under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings. I strongly

suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from Ben Jonson's "Masque of Christmas."

Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from pavo, a peacock, says: "It is a grave and

majestic dance; the method of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those

of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the