AMIDST all the Feasts and Fasts which shine in the Calendar of man's devotion, there is none so radiant with holy joy and gladness as the Festival of Christmas. Hence its celebration in various ages has called forth the liveliest sympathies of man, in festal chansons,-not such as are current at this day, as carols, since these are comparatively recent substitutions for the joyous carol of earlier times. It is important to note, that Christmas has been from very remote times a season of rejoicing; for, as Fuller quaintly says, "Though Christ was humbled to a manger, the contempt of the place was took off by the glory of the attendance and ministration of angels." Indeed, the celebration has been for centuries ordained as a time of joy: it was forbidden to be kept as a fast by the Council of Braga, A. D. 563; which anathematized such as did not duly honour the birth-day of Christ, according to the flesh, but pretended to honour it by fasting on that day; a custom attributable to the same conception which led to the practice of fasting on the Lord's Day, namely, the belief that Christ was not truly born in the nature of man. Since this Canon, we do not find any positive regulation specially affecting the observance of Christmas. (See Neale's Feasts and Fasts.) A contemporary has pleasantly versified this joyful spirit: "O why was England 'merrie' call'd, Because Old England merry was, In merry times gone by! She knew no dearth of honest mirth But one of the finest pictures of the joys of olden Christmas is by a poet whose heart o'erflowed with kindly feeling towards his race: "The glowing censers and their rich perfume, The splendid vestments, and the sounding choir; Seems forc'd to tender; an offering sweet Thus sung WALTER SCOTT, who carried out his creed into the hall of Abbotsford, as well as in his own sweet verse. Elsewhere in this sheet will be found detailed the olden celebrations of Christmas, in customs which belong, perhaps, to a more picturesque age than our own; though we are not inclined to regard the discontinuance of many of these customs at the present day as a falling off in the feelings of the people. The joy of the people we take to be as great, though it is less boisterous in its displays: the holy joy must remain for ever, though the popular participation may change. It has been sensibly observed, that, although much of the custom of profuse hospitality has passed away, Christmas is yet universally recognised as a season when every Christian should show his gratitude to the Almighty for the inestimable benefits procured to us by the nativity of our blessed Saviour, by an ample display of goodwill towards our fellow-men. And here, a hint from old Fuller may not be out of place: " Hospitality is three-fold: for one's family; this is of necessitie: for strangers; this is of courtesie: for the poor; this is charity." At no period of the year is the exercise of this kindly virtue so directly prompted by association and right feeling, as at Christmas. By the season itself, the wants and necessities of the poor are increased, not unfrequently, to distressing extremity. From the palace to the prison, from the hall to the humble home, there are countless opportunities for the practice of Fuller's third hospitality. Hence, one of the best indications of the approach of Christmas is the distribution of fuel, food, and clothing, by those, who, blessed with this world's wealth, really "enjoy the luxury of doing good." The yule-logs may not blaze upon the hall hearth so numerously as of old; the apportioning of "firing" to our poorer neighbours will gladden their hearths, and light up even the gloom of poverty. Meat is another acceptable boon; the ox is not roasted whole, as heretofore; as the maxim-monger says, it proclaims plenty of labour and invention, but affords less of what is delicate, savoury, and well concocted, than smaller pieces," at home. And the provision of additional clothing at this season, will not only increase the comfort of home, but personal neatness, one of the best indications of good order. All these gifts will be well bestowed upon those who are first kindled; there is the same form and the same reflecting virtue in it, kindled by a spark from a flint, as if it were kindled by a beam from the sun." the view," is, perhaps, exemplified in estimating The axiom, "'Tis distance lends enchantment to the joys of Christmas in centuries long past, higher than those of Christmas at present. That we may arrive at a true estimate, let us glance at such of those ancient celebrations as time has left us, and such novelties as the inventive ingenuity of our own day has suggested. The approach of Christmas is still denoted by festive preparations-not, as in olden time, principally by "the great barons and knights, who generally kept open house at this season"-but among all classes of the people. Clubs are established among the working classes, for securing the Christmas luxury by small savings; the geese and grocery thus insured is prodigious, and any grocer's shop window, in the lowness of its prices, comdared with those of forty years since, will give you a better idea of the blessings of peace, than a folio of history. The Smithfield Club Cattle Show,though somewhat "overgrown," reminds us of the improved methods of feeding and fattening, and throws into the shade the lean kine of other days, when the killing of an ox was an event. Again, the prize beef may be an excess, but it is the means of improving the quality of meat generally. Some outward signs are preserved to us; the waits perambulate our streets, not playing the humdrum of the last century, but the Italian Opera airs of the last season; holly, mistletoe, and evergreens, are brought in cartloads to deck our churches and houses, as the natural gratitude of the season. Among the old Romans these were Christian sense they may be applied to the victory the emblems of peace, joy, and victory; in the gained over the powers of darkness by the coming of Christ. Our artist has illustrated most picturesquely, the going out to gather the mistletoe of the oak, grounded, as Colden thinks, "on the Druidical custom:" he has given us, too, the rustic mirth of the occasion by way of episode. The holiday sights and amusements for young folks have, in our time, greatly improved. Our public exhibitions are worth a century of the shows of old; that is, if rational delight be superior to boisterous mirth and "misrule." The noisy snapdragon has, to some extent, gone out; but is more portation, originally from Germany. This tree has than compensated by "the Christmas Tree," an im now become a fashionable toy of the season: it is entirely artificial, and intermixed with the leaves and branches are confectionary fruit-as cherries "Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat.” filled with liqueurs, and bon-bons of extraordinary Yet there is another class who should not be for- sagacity; and sometimes, the branches are hung gotten. The inmate of the prison, he who may with tiny lamps, which when lighted have a charmhave forfeited his claim to the bounty of his fellowing effect. These trees are costly, however: last year we saw one, price several guincas, about to be sent to Windsor Castle, for the amusement of her majesty's children. men, if not left uncheery at this festive season, but The church bells right merrily ring in Christmas as heretofore: we have often passed the eve close to St. Bride's church, when the midnight peal of its famed bells has somewhat saddened our excited senses: it was scarcely possible to hear this "mosaic of the air," without being carried on to the sacred At length, the morning breaks, and those "windpipes of hospitality," countless chimneys, smoke with the preparatory cheer: the pudding, (upon which the grave Johnson meditated profoundly,) requires long boiling, and the fires must be lighted early. The church bells proclaim the hour of service, though not until the distribution of gifts has taken place at the church: where may be seen the minister of our holy religion, dispensing gifts and goods placed at his disposal, recorded in letters of gold upon the church walls; or from a fund raised for the season, and headed by his own benevolence; such being old Fuller's third hospitality-" for the poore; this is charity." How many thousands of pounds are thus annually distributed through the length and breadth of the land, at each returning Christmas, it were vain to attempt to tell; and long may the amount thus baffle calculation! Abroad there is a healthy stir: faces are brighter than usual, and those of the very poor beam with gladness; the church, too, is dight with festivity; "the psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs," tell of the day; the sermon discourses of its duties and its pleasures; the blessing succeeds, then the Holy Communion; and all depart to carry the precepts, the good seed, to homes and bosoms. The dinner follows; perchance the landscape is clothed with snow, or the " eager" air reminds those about to partake of the feast, of the privations of others; the blessing is asked, the repast proceeds; the frosted pudding is brought in with a sort of triumph, as the saucy boar's head was in days of old, with sound of trumpet. The children long to shout, the grown guests rejoice in their way; and thus the day is passed. Will any one say this is not "Merrie England?" Our artist, too, has commemorated the olden ceremony of bringing in the soused boar's head. At the Temple dinners, Dugdale tells us, "at the first course is served in a fair and large bore's head upon a silver platter, with minstrelsaye." The custom is retained to this day, at Queen's College, Oxford, where a boar's head, fairly decorated, is on every Christmas Day carried in procession into the Hall, accompanied by the singing of a carol, “with many innovations," from Wynkyn de Worde's celebrated collection. "With bore's heade in hande bring I, Reading for the Young. THE CHRISTMAS-BOX. ROSE MARTIN'S father lived in the service of Mr. Stanley, as gardener; he had the use of a very comfortable roomy cottage, which stood near the gardens of his master, and a more pleasant situation could not well be found. On either side were meadows and plantations; in front a good bit of ground for a garden, and at the back a small orchard. The garden was filled with all sorts of things: there were vegetables in plenty; raspberry, currant, and gooseberry bushes; early in the year it was gay with spring flowers, and later in the season with china asters and dahlias. Besides all these, there was a goodly row of bee-hives; and hutches, filled with rabbits, were piled one upon another. Between this garden and the pleasure-ground of Mr. Stanley, a smooth gravel road led up to the stables, and other outbuildings. | Rose had never had much schooling; but her grandmother, who lived in the same house, taught her to read and spell; her mother to hem and sew, and also, as soon as she was old enough, to assist her in laundry work; for Mrs. Martin took in washing from the Great At odd times Rose worked House, as it was called. under her father, weeding the shrubberics, sweeping up whole, she led a very easy life, for her work was never dead leaves, or gathering peas and beans. Upon the hard, and she had plenty of good wholesome food to eat. Mr. Stanley had several children, but they were all grown up, and most of them settled in the world; one little girl there was, however, belonging to the Great House, of the same age as Rose, that is to say, about ten or eleven years old. This was Miss Grace Stanley, who, having lost both her parents, was brought up by her grandfather. Most part of her time was spent at school; but at Christmas and Midsummer Miss Grace always came home for the holidays, and on such occa sions, so soon as she had looked about her, run up and down stairs, and talked to everybody in the house, the to Rose's mother, and old Mrs. Martin, who had been usually made her way to the gardener's cottage, to talk her papa's nurse,-play with the kittens, if there chanced to be any, and feed the rabbits. Now I may as well tell you at once that Miss Grace was rather too fond of talking, and indeed, of listening also; for she liked to hear every thing, and what she heard she commonly repeated to the first person that came in her way. "Oh dear! Mrs. Martin," said Miss Grace, on one of these holiday visits," do you know that I got into such a scrape this last half! at least I was very near being in a bad scrape." 66 Dear! dear!" said old Mrs. Martin, in reply, I am sorry to hear you say that, Miss Grace." teachers-cross toad!" "And it was all through Miss Cox, one of our "Oh! Miss Grace, my dear, what a word was that to come out of a young lady's mouth!" Why, dear me ! what signifies? we are not so par ticular at school; besides, it was nothing so very bad after all-and I have brought home another prize book, Mrs. Martin-Miss More's Sacred Dramas, with a picture at the beginning of Moses in the bull-rushes; I will bring it next time I come, to show you, Mrs. Martin, but I was going to say something, what was it? Oh, I know, it was about Miss Cox." Mrs. Martin bade Rose take her elbows off the table, But before Miss Grace Stanley could proceed, young and run into the orchard to fetch some more clothes to be folded, instead of sitting there, staring in that rude way. Rose, to be sure, had opened her eyes pretty wide as she listened to the discourse of Miss Grace, and she would much rather have stayed where she was to hear what would come next, but she knew she must do her mother's bidding; so she went, and, almost at the same moment, the young lady, getting a sight from the window of some person on horseback riding towards the stable-yard, forgot again what she was going to say; she wondered who it could possibly be; whether grandpapa had been out riding; but she rather thought not; or perhaps it was Mr. Newton, the doctor, who generally rode up the back way to the house, and she knew that the under housemaid was ill; but then, this gentleman was taller than Mr. Newton; she thought she would run home, and inquire about it. So, with a hasty "good bye," she skipped out of the house, down the garden path, and was soon out of sight. When Miss Grace reached home, she was told that her uncle Henry, of whom she was extremely fond, had arrived, and was then in the library, with her grandpapa; so giving her shoes a hasty rub on the door mat, she rushed across the hall, and into the library, just as her uncle finished what he was saying, with these words, "I shall give them to her to-morrow by way of a Christmas-box." Miss Grace heard this quite distinctly, and made sure that the words related to some present intended for herself. Mr. Henry Stanley was always very kind to his little niece, and, after he had kissed and talked to her for some time in a very amusing way, he took from his pocket a small paper parcel, and, placing it in her hand, said, he hoped she was not grown too much of a woman to eat sugar-plums. Charming sugar-plums they were, both to the look and taste; the box too, which contained them, was ornamented with cut paper, and had a very pretty coloured print on the top of the lid, with a piece of looking-glass inside. But, though Miss Grace thanked her uncle, and admired the box, she did neither so heartily as she would have done, had she not been thinking of the present intended to be given her the following day, and which she took for granted would be something of more value than a box of sugar-plums; something, in short, worthy to be called a Christmasbox. So impatient was she to have her curiosity satisfied on this point, that, unable to contain herself, she ventured to ask her uncle if he had brought her any thing else. What! in my pocket!" he exclaimed. "A likely story. It is not every uncle would have cumbered himself with a box of sugar-plums, I can tell you, Miss Grace." Why, that may be, Rose, for little Selina Thomp. son is grandpapa's godchild. Very likely he got uncle Henry to buy something for her in Londona necklace, perhaps, or a silver-gilt knife and fork, like that he gave my little cousin Charles Anstey" but Rose could stay no longer, for they had reached the gate, and she saw her mother looking out for her. Miss Grace walked slowly back, pondering upon what she had just heard, and feeling rather vexed at the idea of the present being intended, after all, for Mr. Thompson's little girl, instead of herself. She had got some way towards the house, when she met Mr. Stanley: he was going down to the village on business, and told Miss Grace she might, if she pleased, walk with him. This she was ready enough to do, and so they proceeded together. All the trees and shrubs were covered with hoar frost, and glistened brightly whenever the sun glanced upon them; every spray was crusted over with some fantastic shape; every blade of grass stood up stiff as a frozen spear, while the tall bents drooped their heads, and looked like feathers powdered with snow. Mr. Stanley noticed some of these beautiful objects to his little granddaughter; and then he talked to her about the dinner the school-children were to have the following day; of the new warm cloaks to be given afterwards to the girls, It was winter; the ground was frozen hard, and a and which he proposed she should assist the housekeeper little snow had fallen in the night; about noon, how-to distribute. When they left the plantations, and got ever, the sun shone out brightly, and Miss Grace, wrapping herself up in her warmest shawl, and taking in her hand a piece of plain cake for her luncheon, tripped down the shrubbery, and took the path leading to the kitchen garden. The young lady did not dare say another word, but she still thought, that, as her uncle had not positively denied it, something might be forthcoming on the morrow. When the morning came, and she met her grandpapa and uncle at breakfast, she still thought the same, though to her disappointment the latter, soon after that meal, left the house, and she saw him no more for some hours. Whisking round the corner of the tool-house, she shy of talking to the young lady, for she had been Grace. into the lane leading to the village, they met many of their poor neighbours; the women going to the Great House, for portions of beef for themselves and families; boys and girls carrying bundles of holly and mistletoe, to be set up in the servants' hall, where they were to dine on Christmas day. Mr. Stanley stopped to speak to some amongst them, and, as he walked on, repeated to Miss Grace some verses about Christmas, which he thought she would understand and like. The following were some of the lines : Heap on more wood! the wind is chill, We'll keep our Christmas merry still. And well our Christian sires of old Lov'd when the year its course had roll'd, Domestic and religious rite, And no doubt Miss Grace would have thought them very pretty, had she listened as attentively as she ought to have done; but her mind was so full of her own little prying and selfish thoughts, that she heard not much of what her grandpapa said during the whole of their walk, and was only longing for some good opportunity of bringing forward the subject which at that time was most interesting to herself. Yet Miss Grace was not, on the whole, and in her general behaviour, what might justly be called a naughty child; she had no perverseness of temper, was neither passionate nor sulky, and seldom disobedient; but she had been, from her infancy, too much indulged, and, although taught to believe and know many things that were right, she had never been told it was a duty to deny herself. Self-indulgent she went to school, and, as it was too much the plan there for everybody to take care of number one, self-indulgent, to the best of her power, she continued. Quick at learning, she was seldom troublesome at her lessons; but then, as she could get them by heart in what she was pleased to call "no time," she trifled away many a quarter of an hour, and at last hurried over her task without thought or care. The consequence of all this was, that neither her governess nor the teachers knew very well what to say about her; for, when they sent her home for the holidays with a fair character, it was still with the belief that she might have done much better, had she pleased. So it was, also, with her schoolfellows; inasmuch as Grace Stanley was lively, fond of play, and not apt to quarrel, they liked her; but not nearly so much as they would have done, had she been less selfish, and more mindful of others. However, to go on with her present history. A distant view of Mr. Thompson, when they reached the village, encouraged her to say, Grandpapa, is not little Sclina Thompson your goddaughter?" "Yes, my dear; why do you ask?" "Why," answered Miss Grace, with some hesitation, "I thought perhaps you made her a present sometimes, and I wondered what you could give such a little girl." "Indeed, Grace," said Mr. Stanley, "I don't remember that I have ever given her any thing, but a Noah's Ark; when she is a little older, I must get her a handsome Bible and Prayer-book, I suppose. Do you not think that will be the right sort of present from a godfather, Grace? and I am glad," continued Mr. Stanley, after Miss Grace had answered, "Yes," looking kindly at her, "that my little grand-daughter does not wish to have all the presents made to herself." Miss Grace felt ashamed, for she knew that she did not deserve this praise. However, after a short silence, she began again" Selina is such a pretty little thing! she was, at least, when I was at home last summer,don't you think so, grandpapa?" "Yes, my dear, she is a fine little girl." 'I wonder what uncle Henry thinks of her." "You can ask him, Grace, if you please, but you must not be surprised to hear him say that he never thought about her at all." and was now frozen over; and that she had seen something white lying among the rushes, near the edge of the ice, which she at first took for a cotton glove. However, on going round to the spot, she found it was the same parcel she had seen in Mr. Henry's hand." "But how could it get there, Rose?" inquired Miss Grace. "Why, Miss, Anne Goddard told me as how she saw Mr. Henry skating on the ice this morning, with some more gentlefolk, and, may be, he dropped the parcel out of his pocket." Yes, yes, to be sure he did; I recollect now hearing him inquire for his skates soon after breakfast: he asked Robert if he knew where to find them. But what is it you intend doing with the parcel, Rose?" Oh, miss, I was going to take it to the Great House, and give it to the butler for Mr. Henry, only, as you seemed so curious, I thought I would just let you have a sight of it first." "Well, Rose, that was right, but let me have it in my hand, please; I want just to feel what it is like." Rose gave the parcel, but Miss Grace handled it so long, and squeezed it so hard, that Rose began to be frightened ¦ lest it should come open, and could not help crying out, Oh, dearey me, miss! mind as you don't break the wax. Father says 'tis hanging matter to break open a sealed letter, and may be a sealed parcel is just the same." 66 "Nonsense, Rose !" answered Miss Grace, looking much offended; "what stuff! as if a young lady could do any thing to make her be hanged! It is very dishonourable though to break open a seal, I know that, and I am not going to do any such thing. I should like though, if you don't mind, to give the parcel to uncle Henry myself." No, miss, please, I had rather not." "Oh! I suppose you think my uncle will give you something for finding it." 66 No, miss, it ain't for that, and I don't desire any such a thing." "Well, but Rose, should not you like to know what there is inside? Now, if I take the parcel to my uncle, he "Well," thought Miss Grace to herself, " I don't sup-will be so pleased to have it again, that most likely pose the parcel was for Selina after all." Instead of going home through the plantation, Mr. Stanley turned up the road which led to the gardener's house, having something to say to old Mrs. Martin. Rose was standing in the porch, and, as they passed, she gave Miss Grace a pull by the shawl. Before that day, Rose would not have thought of taking such a liberty. Grace stopped, and looked round, instead of following Mr. Stanley into the house, and Rose, taking the other hand from beneath her pinafore, showed a small parcel sealed with a red seal. "Dear me!" Rose began; but Mrs. Martin came from the kitchen to beg she would not stand out in the cold. So Miss Grace, though much against her will, was obliged to enter the house. Mr. Stanley did not stay long, and when they reached the end of the garden path, Rose was holding open the gate. Miss Grace began to despair; she longed, with all her heart, to question Rose, but how to stay behind her grandpapa, she knew not. The matter was how ever settled unexpectedly in her favour, by Mr. Stanley's saying, "Grace, my dear, I am going home by the stables and rick-yard, but I do not wish you to come with me; you have been out of doors long enough this cold day, run home through the shrubbery." With these words Mr. Stanley proceeded towards the stable-yard, and Miss Grace crossed over to the shrubbery gate, from whence she beckoned to Rose to follow her. The walk within side the gate soon made a short turn, bending round a clump of tall evergreens, and, close to these, hid from the road, and sheltered from the cold north wind, the two little girls placed themselves, the one as ready to tell as the other was impatient to hear. Rose related how she had gone to warm herself with a slide at the bottom of Rush mead, where the water had been out, he will tell me, and you may depend on it, Rose, if he | does, that you shall know all about it too." "La! Miss Grace! it's nothing as concerns me, I'll be bound to say; and, I don't mind a farthing whether 'tis one thing or another. All I care for is, Mr. Henry's getting the parcel safe." "That's right, Rose, keep to that," said Mr. Henry Stanley, who had entered the walk without being heard or seen, and had been standing for some moments near the two children, though they were too much engaged in their talk to observe him. Both Miss Grace and Rose started at the sound of his voice, and both felt ashamed, though Rose was, with reason, the least so of the two. After a short silence, Mr. Henry said, "You may go home, Rose; I am not angry with you; I believe you have done nothing more than listen, and perhaps talk too much to a young lady who ought to have set you a better example, and I am much obliged to you for taking such good care of my property." Rose did not wait for another word, but dropping a courtesy as she passed the gentleman, set off with all speed. Miss Grace stood as still as if she had been frozen to the spot; her eyes bent on the ground, and the tears trickling from them down her cheeks. In silence she put the parcel into her uncle's hand, hoping he would walk on to the house, and leave her to follow: such however was not his intention. You had better come on, Grace, it is too cold to stand still; I suspect you have been standing too long already. What has made you so intimate with Rose Martin?" he continued, as they moved on, side by side. ין |