



OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. 
DECEMBER. 

*Tis now the tempest cloud of WrnTrEr lowers, 
Frosts are severe, and snow-flakes not a few— 
Lifting their leafless boughs against the breeze ; 
Forlorn appear the melancholy trees ! 

‘How “oxp Timm,” with his sickle, does 
stride along—carrying all before him! Here 
are we, on the very verge of a new year ; 
which, ere our festivities shall have hardly 
commenced, will burst upon us almost un- 
looked-for. “ Tempus “fugit!” said the 
ancients. ‘“ Tumpus fugit!” say we. 
About this time last year (sce Vol. IL, p. 
305), we gave birth to an article entitled 
‘The Coming Season and its Charming As- 
sociations.” In this, we embodied so much 
of the feelings, duties, and pleasures peculiar 
to the season of ‘Christmas, that we do not 
intend to go over the same ground again. 
We may just mention, however, that the 
article we allude to quite immortalised Our 
JOURNAL, both at home and abroad! Thou- 
sands upon thousands of copies flew like 
lightning all over the world; and if ever 
anybody had reason to be (allowably) proud 
of public opinion, wE were that body. Why 
did we create such aremarkable impression? 
Simply, because we gave utterance to the 
purest feelings of our nature. 
At this season, be it known, we always 
become positively “young” again; and 
therefore write with the freshness of youth. 
We love to see people happy, united, social, 
kind, tender—affectionate. Therefore is it 
that we woo them to be natural; and once a 
year at least to lay aside the cold formalities 
of the world, and the conventional mask that 
so disfigures their features. We meet many 
of these worldly performers at Christmas, 
and never fail to unmask them. Where wi 
are, they must ‘ come out.” They cannot 
laugh—eh? Cannot enjoy such childish 
follies—eh ? Canthey not? They shall! 
Think’st thou, because thou art virtuous* 
There shall be no more cakes and ale! 
Bah! Mr. Longface. Give in at once. We 
will have all your family under the misseltoe 
anon ; and make them blush for their parents. 
They, as Capt’n Cuttle says, shall, meanwhile, 
“stand by!” 
Neither shall we speak here of the Christ- 
mas Tree. Zhat, in its minutest details, is 
included in the article above referred to, and 
has “set many a table in a roar.” It will 
have a similar effect, no doubt, this year—tor 
we feel sure many thousands more will read 
it. It is odd, yet true, that we ourself can, 
over and over again, read it; and enjoy it 
each time better than ever. Such power is 
there in Nature, to work upon the better 
eee) EUPET EG Mee Se Py) SAN OE RIE eR ee SE 
* Strait-laced, unnatural, righteous over much. 


KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
feelings of the human heart! We are not all 
radically bad; but we do accumulate much 
rust during the year. It is this rust that we 
want to polish off, so as to begin the new 
year well. Much lies before us. Let our 
duties be well and efficiently performed ! 
We have not allowed the month of No- 
vember to pass by without enjoying, out-ol- 
doors, the lingering’ but indescribable 
beauties of the season. The sun has been 
shining gloriously upon us; and has gilded 
many a distant prospect; lending a kind of 
enchantment to the passing scenes around 
us. On these we shall not dwell to-day, 
much as our heart would desire it. Itwould 
be out of season. Suffice it to record, what 
will daily become more and more visible— 
that Winter is now fast. closing his cloud- 
canopy over all nature. His remaining duty 
is—to breathe forth that sleep-compelling 
breath which is to wrap all things in a tem- 
porary oblivion. This is as essential to 
their healthful existence, as is the active 
vitality which it for a time supersedes. 
Thus much for out-of-door delights, in 
which we cannot expect to find much sym- 
pathy in the first month of Winter. Dear, 
dearer than ever are they to us; and we 
will enjoy them “alone.” But we are in 
DECEMBER. 
Perhaps of all months, in the dull season, 
December is the dullest. This from a 
multitude of reasons. The air grows chilly, 
the days shorten, fogs obscure the atmos- 
phere, and the gardens look bare and cheer- 
less. Nor do we fail, ere the month departs, 
to see something of Winter. But even then 
there is much to admire :-— 
The Winter’s cheerful fire-side eve : its bright, 
And crisp, and spangled fields in morning frost ; 
Its silent-dropping snows, its pelting showers, 
The mighty roaring of its tempests. 
Now is the time to ramble forth, and, by 
means of a brisk walk, to throw a healthy 
tint upon the cheek. No crowding yet round 
large fires: roasting one side, while the other 
is half frost-bitten. Exercise, good people, 
exercise is the secret of health. The blood 
wants. a proper and natural circulation. 
Boiling it does it no good whatever. 
But ‘‘ Lord Mayor’s Day” has passed ; and 
a wonderfully fine, bright day it was for the 
scene of gluttony at the City banquet! We 
have heard, by the way, that this is expected 
to be the Jast of these disgusting processions. 
Let us hope so. They are a national dis- 
grace. ‘The late awful accidents, too, at- 
tended by such a sad loss of lives; these 
surely ought to plead for a termination of 
such annual devilries. Wesaid in our last, 
that this was the signal for coming festivities. 
It isso. Every day, subsequently, has led to 
preparations for grand spreads. Eating and 
drinking are now the order of the day—and 
