130 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



mother's hands ; and we transfer it and ourselves to 

 our uncle's hospitable house, feeling very happy. 

 Speculation is busy in regard to the prospects of the 

 weather for the morrow, as, of course, very much of 

 the pleasure of the day depends on the weather. The 

 barometer is consulted; weather-wise folk are asked 

 their opinion ; and we fervently hope it will be fine. 

 Presently, a substantial supper is discussed ; and in a 

 state of delicious excitement, suspense, and anticipa- 

 tion, we coil ourselves under the blankets, and try to 

 sleep. 



Long before the late day-dawn of those high 

 latitudes, we are up and about, and in ecstasies of 

 delight if — as I shall suppose — the morning is fine. 

 The day's feasting begins about nine o'clock with a 

 breakfast of the most substantial and tempting descrip- 

 tion. No . porridge on Yule morning ! The dining- 

 room table is groaning with good things — a huge 

 round of cold corned beef, savoury sausages, fried fish, 

 eggs, rolls steaming from the oven, flour scones kneaded 

 with milk and butter, a species of oatcake called " fat 

 brunies," so rich and free that they will scarcely hold 

 together, jam and marmalade, and tea with plenty of 

 sugar and rich cream. Our excellent arid healthy 

 appetites having got an additional sharpness by the 

 keen air and exercise of the morning, we do ample 

 justice to the good things before us. But before we 

 rise from the table, we have yet to partake of the 

 crowning glory of a Yule breakfast, and without which 

 we should not look upon it as a Yule breakfast at all. 



