


306 

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 


ladies wore high head-dresses, but were in 
the garbs of shepherdesses in silk and satin 
—a crook in one hand, and a favorite parrot 
on the other, with a cherry inits beak. 'The 
chairs and sofas were of very formal tapestry- 
work. 
The hour of supper approached. Not 
your.modern apology for such a meal, of 
mere sandwiches and tartlets. No; my good 
aunt had a soul far beyond such fastidious 
and-economical innovations. She, dear old 
lady ! insisted on a bond fide substantial hot 
repast—roasted chickens, egg-sauce, boiled 
tongue, sweet-breads, a pigeon-pie, custards, 
jellies, and baked pears. The whole accom- 
pavied with sound Lisbon wine, and admir- 
able home-brewed sparkling ale. On the 
withdrawal of the cloth, a highly spiced 
“powl of bishop” made its appearance, 
placed vis-a-vis to another savory bowl of 
rum punch, flavored with arrack. These 
good things were admirable adjuncts to 
lively conversation. My aunt was not one 
of those starched old frumps, who, after they 
have attained a certain, or rather an wncer- 
twin age, begin to indulge in the gratification 
of hopeless misery in this world, and ever- 
lasting condemnation in the next. On the 
contrary, sue was a jovial-hearted old girl, 
who had not yet left off her riding-habit, or 
sleek white mare witha long tail, on the 
back of which she had taken her exercise 
for many years. She loved a joke, and de- 
lighted in the society of her juniors, in 
whose frolics she was foremost to participate. 
She told her merry stories—these produced 
others, like the growth of mushrooms—one 
plant becoming surrounded by a circle of the 
same genus. rom stories we came to songs, 
from songs to toasts, “ A merry Christmas 
and a happy New Year,” &c., &c., until the 
bowls had to be replenished. Then the 
piano was opened; the chairs were cleared 
away ; and up started my venerable aunt and 
the whole party for a dance. It was not the 
Polka. In those days, such a filthy absur- 
dity was unknown—except indeed to the 
clown at Sadler’s Wells. Every cheek was 
mantling with joyous excitement; for the 
jests and roars of laughter ceased not during 
the dance. Nor was there any unnecessary 
stoppage of the office of the punch ladle. 
But alas! pleasure cannot continue for ever, 
and so it happened now,—for, in the midst 
of a most uproarious hilarity, something fell 
heavily on the floor; all eyes were instantly 
turned in one direction. It was my 
aunt ! 

The music ceased ; we anxiously surrounded 
the poor lady: raised her; a thousand fears 
crossed our minds. Was it apoplexy ? 
epilepsy ? or what was it? 
My dear old aunt opened her eyes. Ina 
moment she penetrated our inward thoughts ; 



and in the benevolence of her heart to relieve 
our apprehensions she exclaimed, “ Be not 
alarmed, dears; ONLY A LITTLE TIPSY,— 
nothing more, I assure you.” 
Oh! how our hearts were relieved. 
After this, the only move that could be 
made was—to bed. 
On Christmas Day I was waked _ at. eight 
o'clock, A.M.—by I did not exactly know 
what. But it was agreeable. About a 
dozen sweet tiny voices were singing the 
Christmas Carol in the court outside the 
window,— 

“God bless you, merry gentlemen, 
Let nothing you dismay,” &c., &c., &c. 
I stepped out of bed, and poked my nose 
between the holland blind and the edge of 
the casement; glancing obliquely. It is 
extraordinary how cleverly the human eye 
can look roundacorner. I beheld, wrapped 
up in warm grey cloaks, twelve or more 
fresh-looking little girls, who were -the 
vocalists. They were all tidily attired; and 
went through their carol with confidence,— 
as if it had been an annual and expected 
custom. 
When they had sung through the quarter 
of a hundred verses appertaining to that 
antique stave,—who should I see emerge 
from the porch, as fresh as a daisy, but my 
aunt ! 
that her Christmas Day would have been 
passed in bed, with a water-gruel accom- 
paniment. But no; I was utterly mistaken. 
She, in a good-humored tone, called the little 
choristers up to her; and dispensed to each 
a bright sixpence and a home-made cake. 
The pleased looks of the children were her 
ample reward. A knock at the door fur- 
nished hot water and aired linen; also, an 
intimation that everybody was both up and 
down. 
I shall pass over a cheerful and exquisite 
breakfast. Nor shall I relate ali I said to 
my fair cousin Henrietta, as she leant on my 
arm in our walk to the village church. 
We are seated in my aunt’s family pew. 
She, bless her heart! with a happy look of 
serenity proceeding from the calm feeling of 
piety inherent in her; I rather feverish; and 
with my thoughts reverting to the faua-pas 
on the carpet on Christmas eve. 
I know not how it is, but somehow I 
always feel much more interest in a country 
church than I do ina place of worship in 
London. ‘There is less pretension, more 
simplicity. Generally speaking, you know 
the officiating clergyman is not overpaid. 
Should it bea curate, you may be sure that 
his labors do not receive their proper reward. 
You sympathise with, while you. inwardly 
respect. the grave, meek-looking man. 
But here, | must own that I was a little 
scandalised, by what I considered the irre- 

I imagined, as_a matter of course, , 

