YULE-TIME. 131 



From the sideboard are now brought and set before 

 our host a large old china punch-bowl, kept expressly 

 for the purpose ; a salver, with very ancient, curiously 

 shaped large glasses — also kept sacred to the occasion 

 — and a cake-basket heaped with rich crisp short- 

 bread. The bowl contains whipcol, the venerable and 

 famous Yule breakfast beverage. I do not know the 

 origin or etymology of the name whipcol. I do not 

 think it is to be found in any of the dictionaries. I 

 do not know if it was a Yule drink of our Viking 

 ancestors in the days of paganism. I do not know if 

 there was any truth in the tradition that it was the 

 favourite drink of the dwellers in Valhalla, gods and 

 heroes, when they kept their high Yule festival. But 

 this I know : there never was in the old house a Yule 

 breakfast without it. It had come down to us from 

 time immemorial, and was indissolubly assaciated with 

 Yule morning. That is all I can say about it, except 

 that I am able to give the constituents of this luscious 

 beverage, which is not to be confounded with eggflip. 

 The yolks of a dozen fresh eggs are vigorously whisked 

 for half an hour with about one pound of sifted loaf- 

 sugar ; nearly half a pint of old rum is added, and then 

 about a quart of rich sweet cream. A bumper of this, 

 tossed off to many happy returns of Yule day, together 

 with a large square of shortbread, always rounded up 

 our Yule breakfast. 



Almost immediately thereafter, football commenced. 

 Most of our masculine neighbours, boys and lads, and 

 men up to well-nigh fifty years of age, were wont to 



