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CHRISTMAS EVE.- -THE CHRISTMAS CAROL.

The annexed descriptions of the various features of the Christmas season are extracted from a poem of considerable length, entitled "Christmas," written by Romaine Joseph Thorn, and published towards the close of the eighteenth century. As we have been unable to meet with a copy of this poem, our extracts have been made from Brand's "Popular Antiquities," vol. i., and comprise, of course, only such passages as are printed in that work.

CHRISTMAS EVE.

THY welcome eve, loved Christmas, now arrived,
The parish bells their tuneful peals resound,
And mirth and gladness every breast pervade.
The pond'rous ashen faggot, from the yard,
The jolly farmer to his crowded hall

Conveys, with speed; where, on the rising flames
(Already fed with store of massy brands)
It blazes soon; nine bandages it bears;
And as they each disjoin (so custom wills),
A mighty jug of sparkling cyder's brought,
With brandy mixed, to elevate the guests.

THE CHRISTMAS CAROL.

Now too is heard

The hapless cripple, tuning through the streets

His Carol new; and oft, amid the gloom

Of midnight hours, prevailed th' accustomed sounds

Of wakeful Waits, whose melody (composed

Of hautboy, organ, violin and flute,

And various other instruments of mirth,)

Is meant to celebrate the coming time.

The next extract refers to the indoor amusements of the Christmas season, most of which will be recognised as popular at the present time, in many a quiet country place, among those who still retain a fondness for the simple games that delighted alike both old and young in the bygone days of ruffles and farthingales.

CHRISTMAS SPORTS.

YOUNG men and maidens now
At Feed the Dove (with laurel leaf in mouth),
Or Blindman's Buff, or Hunt the Slipper, play,
Replete with glee. Some, haply, cards adopt :
Or if to Forfeits they the sport confine,
The happy folk adjacent to the fire
Their stations take; excepting one alone,
(Sometimes the social mistress of the house)
Who sits within the centre of the room,
To cry the pawns; much is the laughter now,
At such as can't the Christmas catch repeat,
And who, perchance, are sentenced to salute

EVERGREEN DECKING THE CHRISTMAS BOX.

The jetty beauties of the chimney back,

Or lady's shoe; others more lucky far,

By hap or favour meet a sweeter doom,
And on each fair one's lovely lips imprint.
The ardent kiss.

1

EVERGREEN-DECKING AT CHRISTMAS.

FROM Every hedge is plucked by eager hands
The holly branch, with prickly leaves replete,
And fraught with berries of a crimson hue;
Which, torn asunder from its parent trunk,

Is straightway taken to the neighbouring towns;
Where windows, mantles, candlesticks, and shelves,
Quarts, pints, decanters, pipkins, basins, jugs,
And other articles of household ware,

The verdant garb confess.

THE CHRISTMAS BOX.

GLADLY the boy, with Christmas Box in hand,
Throughout the town his devious route pursues ;
And, of his master's customers, implores
The yearly mite: often his cash he shakes;
The which, perchance, of coppers few consists,
Whose dulcet jingle fills his little soul

With joy, as boundless as the debtor feels,

When, from the bailiff's rude, uncivil gripe,

His friends redeem him, and, with pity fraught,

The claims of all his creditors discharge.

Now social friends their social friends invite
To share the feast and on the table 's placed
The famed sirloin, with puddings nicely baked,
Surcharged with plums, and from the oven hot;
Nor wanting are minced pies, in plenteous heaps,
T'augment the dainties of the brave repast.

Having disposed of the few poems belonging to this section, that we have succeeded in meeting with, written by acknowledged authors, we now proceed to introduce several of an anonymous character. Our first selection is from "Poor Robin's Almanack;" and, although these verses are of but a humble order of merit, they are still interesting, as exhibiting the particular features of the Christmas season during a considerable portion of the eighteenth century.

THE GOOD OLD TIMES.

(From "Poor Robin's Almanack,” 1709.)

OW happy were those days so old,
When feasting did all twelve days hold;
When tables groaned with boiled and roast,

And key of buttery door was lost;
When cooks had hardly time to eat,

For serving up of others' meat ;

When the old hall with gambols rung,

And merry carols they were sung;

While many tales and jests were saying,

Some were at Whisk and Cross Ruff playing,
Primevo, Gleek, Picquet, All Fours,

In harmless mirth they spent the hours;

A HINT TO THE FANATICS.

Knaves out of Town who may not hurt ye,

And Tom-fool's game called One and Thirty,
Winning and Losing, Loudum, Put,

Then Post and Pair, and next New Cut.*
Some were a shoeing the wild mare.

With other tricks that used were.

But those things now are laid aside,
The better to maintain our pride,
And Christmas scarcely should we know,
Did not the almanacks it show.

A HINT TO THE FANATICS.

(From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1711.)

Now Christmas day approaches near,
Trim up the house with holly,
And set abroach the strongest beer,
For neighbours to be jolly.
Let fanatics old customs blame,

Yet Christmas is a High day,

Though they will fast upon the same,
And feast upon Good Friday.

Good works are popishly inclined,
Say they that none will do,

Yet they for pride can money find,

And keep a coach also.

All the above were games with cards, and several among them will be recognised as popular at the present day.