282 

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

ment) yields presently to thankfulness for 
those who yet are spared, even though 
change be written on the features and the 
forms of all; though rosy children are 
gradually losing their early grace and 
childish beauty, and expanding into awkward 
hoydens,—though awkward hoydens are 
putting on the garb and gravity of men and 
women, and those who lately were in the 
very flush and prime of life are waning 
sensibly, and hoary elders day by day draw 
visibly nearer to the tomb. 
But while we babble thus, the high and 
solemn religious services of the day proceed 
in their devout and beautiful progression, 
and the repetition of the sublimely simple 
story of the Nativity of the Son of God, 
the declaration of the stupendous object 
of “the” great mission, the exposition of 
duties He enjoins, are delivered with all the 
impressive earnestness, and received with a 
peculiar reverence appertinent to a glorious 
anniversary. 
Anon, the old church tower throbs like a 
living creature with the rocking of the 
clamorous bells; and a motley multitude 
streams from the vaulted porch—all but the 
poor recipients of the Christmas dole, to 
whose necessities a sum, bequeathed ori- 
ginally for masses to be sung on this high 
festival, and twelve days after, for the soul’s 
repose of a doughty knight, ministers most 
seasonably. Does not the “neighbor air 
smell wooingly,” as through the clear thin 
element the grateful steam of hot and 
savory dishes rises on all sides like a 
fragrant incense ? 
What says the old ballad :— 
All you that to feasting and mirth are inclined, 
Come, here is good news for to pleasure your 
mind 
Old Christmas is come for to keep open house, 
He scorns to be guilty of starving a mouse. 
Then come, boys, and welcome for diet the chief, 
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine’d pies, and roast 
beef. 
Although the cold weather doth hunger provoke, 
*Tis a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke; 
Provision is making for beer, ale, and wine, 
For all that are willing or ready to dine ; 
Then haste to the kitchen for diet the chief, 
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc’d pies, and roast 
beef. 
And what that other seasonable ditty :— 
Lordlings, Christmas loves good drinking 
Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou, 
English ale, that drives out thinking, 
Prince of liquors old or new. 
Every neighbor shares the bowl, 
Drinks of the spicy liquor deep, 
Drinks his fill without control, 
Till he drowns his care in sleep. 
Could an easterly wind, and a three hours’ 
gallop on Salisbury Plain, stimulate your 




edacious and bibulous propensities more 
than these two quotations? The refrain 
of the former hangs unctuously upon your 
lips as you cross the threshold of the fine 
manorial old farm-house, where dinner and 
the sunshine of a crowd of happy faces wait 
your coming. Happy moment! your host 
and hostess are in the very act of marshalling 
their guests to table as youarrive. Noneed 
of “‘introduction.” You know them one and 
all; from the silvery-haired old gentlewoman, 
who talks familiarly of the Christmas party 
which she met in ’80, to the youngest, 
noisiest, merriest prattler of all. 
How the huge logs crackle and blaze, and 
seethe and hiss; and send a roar like thunder 
bellowing up the vasty chimney! Quivering 
tongues of flame, reflected from the fire, 
dance on the dark and polished panels of the 
wall; portray strange fluctuating shadows 
on the ceiling, and shed a glow—a most 
superfluous glow upon the faces of the com- 
pany. And what a picture gallery might be 
formed from truthful transcripts of those 
varied faces! The deaf old gentleman’s, 
whose round bald head shines like a ball of 
polished ivory, and who will persist in 
answering his neighbor’s comments on the 
sermon with an eulogistic allusion to the 
turkey. The blue-eyed girls, whose peachy 
cheeks are one perpetual blush. Or his, the 
handsome stripling’s,—opposite, whose eyes 
acknowledge a “ divided duty,” and wander 
from the dinner to the blushing donna with 
restless incessancy. The little corpulent 
bachelor’s, who is at once the wit and 
wonder of the village. Or those round-faced 
urchins’ and arch vivacious hoydens,’ whose 
eyes sparkle ecstatically in the contem- 
plation of a marvellously-rich and marvel- 
lously-huge plum-pudding. 
When all the edibles (their name is legion) 
have been discussed,—and even schoolboy 
appetites are satiated; wines, toasts and 
speeches “set the table in a roar.’ The 
little rotund bachelor “rises with diffidence 
to propose the health of an old and honored 
friend—their estimable host, whose hospi- 
tality, domestic virtues,” &c. &e. Andthen 
the ‘estimable host,” “returns his earnest 
heartfelt thanks,” and begs to toast the 
bachelor—his ‘speedy marriage, and the 
blessing of a numerous progeny.” And 
then, there is an infinite deal of tittermg,— 
especially among the ladies ; and not a little 
banter, and not a few sly sallies at the good- 
humored bachelor’s expense. And presently, 
the ladies and the junior bachelors,—and the 
children, steal from the table, and take 
possession of an ampler chamber—pranked 
with evergreens (and misseltoe among the 
rest, depend upon it). And now,—all the 
adults unanimously pronounce that they will 
have “some fun.” 
