"With garlandes gay and rosemary."

In "The Wonderful Yeare, 1603," Holinshed says, that in 1170, upon the Dekker speaks of persons apprehensive young prince's coronation, king Henry II. of catching the plague, and says, "they" served his son at the table as sewer, went (most bitterly) miching and muffled bringing up the bore's head, with trumup and down, with rue and wormwood pets before it, according to the manrer.' stuft into their eares and nosthrils, looking like so many bores heads stuck with branches of rosemary, to be served in for brawne at Christmas."

It is remarked, in the "Literary Pocket Book," that now, Christmas-day only, or at most a day or two, are kept by people in general; the rest are school holidays. "But, formerly, there was nothing but a run of merry days from Christmas-eve to Candlemas, and the first twelve in particular were full of triumph and hospitality. We have seen but too well the cause of this degeneracy. What has saddened our summer-time has saddened our winter. What has taken us from our fields and May-flowers, and suffered them to smile and die alone, as if they were made for nothing else, has contradicted our flowing cups at Christmas. The middle classes make it a sorry business of a pudding or so extra, and a game at cards. The rich invite their friends to their country houses, but do little there but gossip and gamble; and the poor are either left out entirely, or presented with a few clothes and eatables that make up a wretched subsutute for the long and hospitable intercourse of old. All this is so much the worse, inasmuch as christianity had a special eye to those feelings which should remind us of the equal rights of all; and the greatest beauty in it is not merely its charity, which we contrive to swallow up in faith, but its being alive to the sentiment of charity, which is still more opposed to these proud distances and formal dolings out. The same spirit that vindicated the pouring of rich ointment on his feet, (because it was a homage paid to sentiment in his person,) knew how to bless the gift of a cup of water. Every face which you contribute to set sparkling at Christmas is a reflection of that goodness cf nature which generosity helps to uncloud, as the windows reflect the lustre of the sunny heavens. Every holly bough and lump of berries with which you adorn your houses is a piece of natural piety as well as beauty, and will enable you to relish the green world of which you show yourselves not forgetful. Every wassail bowl which you set flowing without drunkenness, every harmless pleasure, every innocent mirth however mirthful, every forgetfulness even of serious things, when they are only swallowed up in the kindness and joy with which it is the end of wisdom to produce, is

Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best ;' and Milton's Eve, who suggested those epithets to her husband, would have thought so too, if we are to judge by the poet's account of her hospitality."

ANCIENT CHRISTMAS.

Loved, when the year its course had roll'
And well our christian sires of old
And brought blithe Christīnas back again,
With all its hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night :
On Christmas-eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas-eve the mass was sung;
That only night, in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;
Forth to the wood did merry men go,
The hall was dress'd with holly green;
To gather in the misletoe.
Then open wide the baron's hall,
To vassal, tenant, serf, aud all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doff'd his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose⚫
The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of " post and pair."
All hailed, with uncontrouled delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
That to the cottage, as the crown,

The fire, with well-dried logs supply'd,
Went, roaring, up the chimney wide;
The huge hall table's oaken face,

Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
By old blue-coated serving man;
Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
Then the grim boar's-head frown'd on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell,
How, when, and where the monster fell,
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar;
While round the merry wassel bowl,
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl
There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;
Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide her savoury goose.
Then came the inerry maskers in,
And carols roar'd with blithsome din;
It was a hearty note and strong.
If unmelodious was the song,
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;
White shirts supply the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visor made;
But, oh! what masquers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
"Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale;
"Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft would cheer
A poor man's heart through half the year.

Sir Walter Scott.

YOUR pardon, Gentles, while we thus implore,
In strains not less awakening than of yore,
Those smiles we deem our best reward to catch,
And for the which we've long been on the Watch;
Well pleas'd if we that recompence obtain,
Which we have ta'en so many steps to gain.
Think of the perils in our calling past,
The chilling coldness of the midnight blast,
The beating rain, the swiftly-driving snow,
The various ills that we must undergo,
Who roam, the glow-worms of the human rac
The living Jack-a-lanthorns of the place.

'Tis said by some, perchance, to mock our toil,
That we are prone to "waste the midnight oil!"
And that, a task thus idle to pursue,
Would be an idle waste of money too!
How hard, that we the dark designs should rue
Of those who'd fain make light of all we do!
But such the fate which oft doth merit greet,
And which now drives us fairly off our beat!
Thus it appears from this our dismal plight,
That some love darkness, rather than the light.
Henceforth let riot and disorder reign,
With all the ills that follow in their train;
Let Toмs and JERRYS unmolested brawl,
(No Charlies have they now to floor withal,)
And "rogues and vagabonds" infest the Town,
For cheaper 'tis to save than crack a crown!

To brighter scenes we now direct our view-
And first, fair Ladies, let us turn to vou.