<h2>CHRISTMAS EVE</h2>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0065i.jpg" width-obs="110" height-obs="200" alt="I" title="I" /></div>
<div class='div2'><br/><br/>t was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold; our chaise
whirled rapidly over the frozen ground; the post-boy smacked his whip
incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on a gallop. "He
knows where he is going," said my companion, laughing, "and is eager to
arrive in time for some of the merriment and good cheer of the servants'
hall. My father, you must know, is a bigoted devotee of the old school,
and prides<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span> himself upon keeping up something of old English
hospitality. He is a tolerable specimen of what you will rarely meet
with now-a-days in its purity, the old English country gentleman; for
our men of fortune spend so much of their time in town, and fashion is
carried so much into the country, that the strong rich peculiarities of
ancient rural life are almost polished away. My father, however, from
early years, took honest Peacham<SPAN name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</SPAN> for his text book, instead of
Chesterfield: he determined, in his own mind, that there was no
condition more truly honourable and enviable than that of a country
gentleman on his paternal lands, and, therefore, passes the whole of his
time on his estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the
old rural games and holiday observances, and is deeply read in the
writers, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject. Indeed,
his favourite range of reading is among the authors who flourished at
least two centuries<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span> since; who, he insists, wrote and thought more like
true Englishmen than any of their successors. He even regrets sometimes
that he had not been born a few centuries earlier, when England was
itself, and had its peculiar manners and customs. As he lives at some
distance from the main road, in rather a lonely part of the country,
without any rival gentry near him, he has that most enviable of all
blessings to an Englishman, an opportunity of indulging the bent of his
own humour without molestation. Being representative of the oldest
family in the neighbourhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his
tenants, he is much looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by
the appellation of 'The Squire;' a title which has been accorded to the
head of the family since time immemorial. I think it best to give you
these hints about my worthy old father, to prepare you for any little
eccentricities that might otherwise appear absurd."</div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0068.jpg" width-obs="150" height-obs="200" alt="The Old Primitive Dame" title="The Old Primitive Dame" /></div>
<p>We had passed for some time along the wall<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span> of a park, and at length the
chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a heavy magnificent old style, of
iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The
huge square columns that supported the gate were surmounted by the
family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's lodge, sheltered under
dark fir-trees, and almost buried in shrubbery.</p>
<p>The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which resounded through the
still frosty air, and was answered by the distant barking of dogs, with
which the mansion-house seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately
appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly upon her, I had a
full view of a little primitive dame, dressed very much in the antique
taste, with a neat kerchief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping
from under a cap of snowy whiteness.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span> She came curtseying forth, with
many expressions of simple joy at seeing her young master. Her husband,
it seems, was up at the house keeping Christmas eve in the servants'
hall; they could not do without him, as he was the best hand at a song
and story in the household.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0069.jpg" width-obs="284" height-obs="400" alt=""It was in a heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers."—" title=""It was in a heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers."" /> <span class="caption">"It was in a heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers."—<SPAN href='#Page_46'><span class='smcap'>page</span> 46.</SPAN></span></div>
<p>My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the park to
the hall, which was at no great distance, while the chaise should follow
on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees, among the naked
branches of which the moon glittered as she rolled through the deep
vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn beyond was sheeted with a slight
covering of snow, which here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught
a frosty crystal; and at a distance might be seen a thin transparent
vapour, stealing up from the low grounds, and threatening gradually to
shroud the landscape.</p>
<p>My companion looked round him with transport:—"How often," said he,
"have I scampered<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span> up this avenue, on returning home on school
vacations! How often have I played under these trees when a boy! I feel
a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up to those who have
cherished us in childhood. My father was always scrupulous in exacting
our holidays, and having us around him on family festivals. He used to
direct and superintend our games with the strictness that some parents
do the studies of their children. He was very particular that we should
play the old English games according to their original form; and
consulted old books for precedent and authority for every 'merrie
disport;' yet I assure you there never was pedantry so delightful. It
was the policy of the good old gentleman to make his children feel that
home was the happiest place in the world; and I value this delicious
home-feeling as one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0073.jpg" width-obs="367" height-obs="350" alt=""The Little Dogs and All"" title=""The Little Dogs and All"" /></div>
<p>We were interrupted by the clangour of a troop of dogs of all sorts and
sizes, "mongrel,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span> puppy, whelp and hound, and curs of low degree," that,
disturbed by the ringing of the porter's bell, and the rattling of the
chaise, came bounding, open-mouthed, across the lawn.</p>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="The little dogs and all">
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">——"The little dogs and all,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart—see they bark at me!"</td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class='unindent'>cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span> voice the bark was
changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he was surrounded and
almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithful animals.</div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0076.jpg" width-obs="219" height-obs="350" alt="Mistletoe" title="Mistletoe" /></div>
<p>We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partly thrown in
deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cold moonshine. It was an
irregular building of some magnitude, and seemed to be of the
architecture of different periods. One wing was evidently very ancient,
with heavy stone-shafted bow windows jutting out and overrun with ivy,
from among the foliage of which the small diamond-shaped panes of glass
glittered with the moonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French
taste of Charles the Second's time, having been repaired and altered, as
my friend told me, by one of his ancestors, who returned with that
monarch at the Restoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in
the old formal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrubberies,
raised terraces,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span> and heavy stone balustrades, ornamented with urns, a
leaden statue or two, and a jet of water. The old gentleman, I was told,
was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery in all its
original state. He admired this fashion in gardening; it had an air of
magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting good old family
style. The boasted imitation of nature in modern gardening had sprung up
with modern republican notions, but did not suit a monarchical
government; it smacked of the levelling system.—I could not help
smiling at this introduction of politics into gardening, though I
expressed some apprehension that I should find the old gentleman rather
intolerant in his creed.—Frank assured me, however, that it was almost
the only instance in which he had ever heard his father meddle with
politics; and he believed that he had got this notion from a member of
parliament who once passed a few weeks with him. The Squire was glad of
any argument to defend his clipped yew-trees and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span> formal terraces, which
had been occasionally attacked by modern landscape-gardeners.</p>
<p>As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and now and
then a burst of laughter from one end of the building. This, Bracebridge
said, must proceed from the servants' hall, where a great deal of
revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, by the Squire throughout the
twelve days of Christmas, provided everything was done conformably to
ancient usage. Here were kept up the old games of hoodman blind, shoe
the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob apple, and
snapdragon: the Yule log and Christmas candle were regularly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span> burnt, and
the mistletoe, with its white berries, hung up, to the imminent peril of
all the pretty housemaids.<SPAN name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0077.jpg" width-obs="178" height-obs="250" alt="The Squire's Reception" title="The Squire's Reception" /></div>
<p>So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ring
repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrival being<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
announced, the Squire came out to receive us, accompanied by his two
other sons; one a young officer in the army, home on leave of absence;
the other an Oxonian, just from the university. The Squire was a fine,
healthy-looking old gentleman, with silver hair curling lightly round an
open florid countenance; in which a physiognomist, with the advantage,
like myself, of a previous hint or two, might discover a singular
mixture of whim and benevolence.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0079.jpg" width-obs="281" height-obs="400" alt=""The company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall."—" title=""The company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall."—" /> <span class="caption">"The company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall."—<span class='smcap'>page</span> 54.</span></div>
<p>The family meeting was warm and affectionate; as the evening was far
advanced, the Squire would not permit us to change our travelling
dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which was assembled in a
large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different branches of a
numerous family connection, where there were the usual proportion of old
uncles and aunts, comfortably married dames, superannuated spinsters,
blooming country cousins, half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed
boarding-school hoydens.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span> They were variously occupied; some at a
round game of cards; others conversing around the fireplace; at one end
of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others
of a more tender and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game; and a
profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about
the floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who having
frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slumber through a
peaceful night.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0081.jpg" width-obs="250" height-obs="187" alt="Toys" title="Toys" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>While the mutual greetings were going on between Bracebridge and his
relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called it a hall,
for so it had certainly been in old times, and the Squire had evidently
endeavoured to restore it to something of its primitive state. Over the
heavy projecting fireplace was suspended a picture of a warrior in
armour, standing by a white horse, and on the opposite wall hung helmet,
buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous pair of antlers were inserted
in the wall, the branches serving as hooks on which to suspend hats,
whips, and spurs; and in the corners of the apartment were
fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, and other sporting implements. The
furniture was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days, though some
articles of modern convenience had been added, and the oaken floor had
been carpeted; so that the whole presented an odd mixture of parlour and
hall.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0083.jpg" width-obs="285" height-obs="300" alt="The Yule Log" title="The Yule Log" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0084.jpg" width-obs="252" height-obs="250" alt="The Squire in his Hereditary Chair" title="The Squire in his Hereditary Chair" /></div>
<p>The grate had been removed from the wide<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</SPAN></span> overwhelming fireplace, to
make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormous log
glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat;
this I understood was the Yule-log, which the Squire was particular in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</SPAN></span>
having brought in and illumined on a Christmas eve, according to ancient
custom.<SPAN name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</SPAN></p>
<p>It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in his hereditary
elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors, and looking
around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and gladness to
every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he
lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</SPAN></span> fondly up in his
master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and stretch himself again
to sleep, confident of kindness and protection. There is an emanation
from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is
immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his ease. I had not
been seated many minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy
cavalier before I found myself as much at home as if I had been one of
the family.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0086.jpg" width-obs="248" height-obs="300" alt="The Family Plate" title="The Family Plate" /></div>
<p>Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up in a
spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax, and around
which were several family portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Beside
the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers, called Christmas candles,
wreathed with greens, were placed on a highly-polished buffet among the
family plate. The table was abundantly spread with substantial fare; but
the Squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</SPAN></span>
boiled in milk with rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for
Christmas eve. I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the
retinue of the feast; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that
I need not be ashamed of my predilection, I greeted him with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</SPAN></span> all the
warmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0087.jpg" width-obs="250" height-obs="233" alt="Master Simon" title="Master Simon" /></div>
<p>The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humours of an
eccentric personage whom Mr. Bracebridge always addressed with the
quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man,
with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the
bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a
dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn. He had an
eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery
of expression that was irresistible. He was evidently the wit of the
family, dealing very much in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span> sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies,
and making infinite merriment by harpings upon old themes; which,
unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit me
to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper to keep a
young girl next him in a continual agony of stifled laughter, in spite
of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite.
Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part of the company, who laughed
at everything he said or did, and at every turn of his countenance. I
could not wonder at it; for he must have been a miracle of
accom<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span>plishments in their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy; make an
old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt cork and
pocket-handkerchief; and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature,
that the young folks were ready to die with laughing.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0088.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="193" alt="Young Girl and Her Mother" title="Young Girl and Her Mother" /></div>
<p>I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was an old
bachelor of a small independent income, which by careful management was
sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through the family system like
a vagrant comet in its orbit; sometimes visiting one branch, and
sometimes another quite remote; as is often the case with gentlemen of
extensive connections and small fortunes in England. He had a chirping,
buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present moment; and his
frequent change of scene and company prevented his acquiring those rusty
unaccommodating habits with which old bachelors are so uncharitably
charged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the
genealogy, history,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span> and intermarriages of the whole house of
Bracebridge, which made him a great favourite with the old folks; he was
a beau of all the elder ladies and superannuated spinsters, among whom
he was habitually considered rather a young fellow, and he was a master
of the revels among the children; so that there was not a more popular
being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr. Simon Bracebridge. Of
late years he had resided almost entirely with the Squire, to whom he
had become a factotum, and whom he particularly delighted by jumping
with his humour in respect to old times, and by having a scrap of an old
song to suit every occasion. We had presently a specimen of his
last-mentioned talent; for no sooner was supper removed, and spiced
wines and other beverages peculiar to the season introduced, than Master
Simon was called on for a good old Christmas song. He bethought himself
for a moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was
by no means bad,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span> excepting that it ran occasionally into a falsetto,
like the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a quaint old ditty,—</p>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Now Christmas is come">
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now Christmas is come,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let us beat up the drum,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>And call all our neighbours together;</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when they appear,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let us make them such cheer,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>As will keep out the wind and the weather, etc.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0091.jpg" width-obs="253" height-obs="300" alt="The Old Harper" title="The Old Harper" /></div>
<div class='div2'>The supper had disposed every one to gaiety, and an old harper was
summoned from the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span> servants' hall, where he had been strumming all the
evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of the
Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, of the
establishment, and though ostensibly a resident of the village, was
oftener to be found in the Squire's kitchen than his own home, the old
gentleman being fond of the sound of "harp in hall."</div>
<p>The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one; some of the
older folks joined in it, and the Squire himself figured down several
couples with a partner with whom he affirmed he had danced at every
Christmas for nearly half-a-century. Master Simon, who seemed to be a
kind of connecting link between the old times and the new, and to be
withal a little antiquated in the taste of his accomplishments,
evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and was endeavouring to gain
credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and other graces of the ancient
school; but he had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span> unluckily assorted himself with a little romping
girl from boarding-school, who, by her wild vivacity, kept him
continually on the stretch, and defeated all his sober attempts at
elegance;—such are the ill-assorted matches to which antique gentlemen
are unfortunately prone!</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0093.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="347" alt="Master Simon Dancing" title="Master Simon Dancing" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0094.jpg" width-obs="267" height-obs="350" alt="The Oxonian and his Maiden Aunt" title="The Oxonian and his Maiden Aunt" /></div>
<p>The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden aunts,
on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries with impunity; he
was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts and
cousins; yet, like all<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span> madcap youngsters, he was a universal favourite
among the women. The most interesting couple in the dance was the young
officer and a ward of the Squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of
seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of
the evening, I suspected there was a little kindness growing up between
them; and, indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a
romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and, like most young
British officers of late years, had picked up various small
accomplishments on the Continent—he could talk French and Italian—draw
landscapes, sing very tolerably—dance divinely; but, above all, he had
been wounded at Waterloo:—what girl of seventeen, well read in poetry
and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection!</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0096.jpg" width-obs="208" height-obs="350" alt="The Young Officer with his Guitar" title="The Young Officer with his Guitar" /></div>
<p>The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling
against the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am half
inclined<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span> to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the
Troubadour. The Squire, however, exclaimed against having anything on
Christmas eve but good old English; upon which the young minstrel,
casting up his eye for a moment, as if in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span> an effort of memory, struck
into another strain, and, with a charming air of gallantry, gave
Herrick's "Night-Piece to Julia:"—</p>
<div class='center'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee">
<tr><td align='left'>Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The shooting stars attend thee,</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the elves also,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose little eyes glow</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><br/>No Will-o'-the-Wisp mislight thee;</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Nor snake or glow-worm bite thee;</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">But on, on thy way,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not making a stay,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Since ghost there is none to affright thee.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><br/>Then let not the dark thee cumber;</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>What though the moon does slumber,</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The stars of the night</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will lend thee their light,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Like tapers clear without number.</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><br/>Then, Julia, let me woo thee,</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>Thus, thus to come unto me;</td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when I shall meet</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy silvery feet,</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>My soul I'll pour into thee.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>The song might have been intended in com<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span>pliment to the fair Julia, for
so I found his partner was called, or it might not; she, however, was
certainly unconscious of any such application, for she never looked at
the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was
suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was a gentle
heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtless caused by the exercise
of the dance; indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was
amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hothouse
flowers, and by the time the song was concluded, the nosegay lay in
ruins on the floor.</p>
<p>The party now broke up for the night with the kind-hearted old custom of
shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on the way to my chamber,
the dying embers of the <i>Yule-clog</i> still sent forth a dusky glow; and
had it not been the season when "no spirit dares stir abroad," I should
have been half tempted to steal from my room at midnight, and peep
whether the fairies might not be at their revels about the hearth.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0099.jpg" width-obs="279" height-obs="400" alt=""Indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot-house flowers."—page 72." title=""Indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot-house flowers."—page 72." /> <span class="caption">"Indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot-house flowers."—<span class='smcap'>page</span> 72.</span></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous furniture
of which might have been fabricated in the days of the giants. The room
was panelled with cornices of heavy carved-work, in which flowers and
grotesque faces were strangely intermingled; and a row of black-looking
portraits stared mournfully at me from the walls. The bed was of rich
though faded damask, with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite
a bow-window. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of music seemed
to break forth in the air just below the window. I listened, and found
it proceeded from a band, which I concluded to be the waits from some
neighbouring village. They went round the house, playing under the
windows. I drew aside the curtains, to hear them more distinctly. The
moonbeams fell through the upper part of the casement, partially
lighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded,
became more soft and aërial, and seemed to accord with quiet and
moonlight. I listened<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span> and listened—they became more and more tender
and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sank upon the
pillow and I fell asleep.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0102.jpg" width-obs="250" height-obs="250" alt="Asleep" title="Asleep" /> Asleep</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></SPAN> Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1622.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></SPAN> See <SPAN name="A" id="A"></SPAN><SPAN href='#NA'>Note A</SPAN>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></SPAN> See <SPAN name="B" id="B"></SPAN><SPAN href='#NB'>Note B</SPAN></p>
</div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/christmasdaytitle.png" width-obs="222" height-obs="60" alt="Christmas Day" title="Christmas Day" /></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0104frame.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="235" alt="The Children's Carol" title="The Children's Carol" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/oldchristmas_0105top.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="304" alt="Christmas Day" title="Christmas Day" /></div>
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