months before Christmas the girls are all busy, and the boys save up their pocketmoney to buy these presents. What the present is to be is cautiously kept secret; and the girls have a world of contrivances to conceal it-such as working when they are out on visits, and the others are not with them-getting up in the morning before day-light, &c. Then, on the evening before Christmas-day, one of the parlours is lighted up by the children, into which the parents must not go; a great yew bough is fastened on the table at a little distance from the wall, a multitude of little tapers are fixed in the bough, but not so as to burn it till they are nearly consumed, and coloured paper, &c hangs and flutters from the twigs. Under this bough the children lay out in great order the presents they mean for their parents, still concealing in their pockets what they intend for each other. Then the parents are introduced, and each presents his little gift; they then bring out the remainder one by one, from their pockets, and sent them with kisses and embraces. Where I witnessed this scene, there were eight or nine children, and the eldest daughter and the mother wept aloud for joy and tenderness; and the tears ran down the face of the father, and he clasped all his children so tight to his breast, it seemed as if he did it to stifle the sob that pre was rising within it. I was very much affected. The shadow of the bough and its appendages on the wall, and arching over on the ceiling, made a pretty picture; and then the raptures of the very little ones, when at last the twigs and their needles began to take fire and snap-O it was a delight to them!-On the next day, (Christmas-day) in the great parlour, the parents lay out on the table the presents for the children; a scene of more sober joy succeeds; as on this day, after an old custom, the mother says privately to each of her daughters, and the father to his sons, that which he has observed most praiseworthy and that which was most faulty in their conduct. Formerly, and still in all the smaller towns and villages throughout North Germany, these presents were sent by all the parents to some one fellow, who, in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig, personates Knecht Rupert, i. e. the servant Rupert. On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and says, that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him thither. The parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence, while the little ones are most terribly frightened. He then inquires for the children, and, according to the character which he hears from the parents, he gives them the intended present, as if they came out of heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they should have been bad children, he gives the parents a rod, and, in the name of his master, recommends them to use it frequently. About seven or eight years old the children are let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it." "Wassaile the trees, that they may beare You many a plum, and many a peare; For more or lesse fruits they will bring, And you do give them wassailing." In 1790, it was related to Mr. Brand, by sir Thomas Acland, at Werington, that in his neighbourhood on Christmaseve it was then customary for the country people to sing a wassail or drinking-song, and throw the toast from the wassail-bow! to the apple-trees in order to have a fruitful year. Pray remember," says T. N. of Cambridge, to the editor of the Every-Day Book, "that it is a Christmas custom from time immemorial to send and receive presents and congratulations from one friend to another; and, could the number of baskets that enter London at this season be ascertained, it would be astonishing; exclusive of those for sale, the number and weight of turkeys only, would surpass belief. From a historical account of Norwich it appears, that between Satur day morning and the night of Sunday, December 22, 1793, one thousand seven hundred turkeys, weighing 9 tons, 2 cwt. 2 lbs. value 6801. were sent from Norwich to London; and two days after half as many more." "Now," says Stevenson, in his Twelve Months, 1661, " capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mutton, must all die; for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now a journeyman cares not a rush for his master, though he begs his plum-porridge all the twelve days. Now or never must the music be in tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country-maid leaves half her market, and must be sent again if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas-eve. Great is the contention of holly and ivy, whether master ог dame wears the breeches; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers." Mr. Leigh Hunt's Indicator presents this Christmas picture to our contemplation-full of life and beauty :— HOLIDAY CHILDREN. One of the most pleasing sights at this festive season is the group of boys and girls returned from school. Go where you will, a cluster of their joyous chubby faces present themselves to our notice. In the streets, at the panorama, or playhouse, our elbows are constantly assailed by some eager urchin whose eyes just beneath to get a nearer view. I am more delighted in watching the vivacious workings of their ingenuous countenances at these Christmas shows, than at the sights themselves. peep From the first joyous huzzas, and loud blown horns which announce their arrival, to the faint attempts at similar mirth on their return, I am interested in these youngsters. Observe the line of chaises with their swarm-like loads hurrying to tender and exulting parents, the sickly to be cherished, the strong to be amused; in a few mornings you shall see them, new clothes, warm gloves, gathering around their mother at every toy-shop, claiming the promised bat, hoop, top, or marbles; mark her kind smile at their ecstacies; her prudent shake of the head at their multitudinous demands; her gradual yielding as they coaxingly drag her in. her patience with their whims and clamour while they turn and toss over the play-things, as now a sword, and now a hoop is their choice, and like their elders the possession of one bauble does but make them sigh for another. View the fond father, his pet little girl by the hand, his boys walking before on whom his proud eye rests, while ambitious views float o'er his mind for them, and make him but half attentive to their repeated inquiries; while at the Museum or Picture-gallery, his explanations are interrupted by the rapture of discovering that his children are already well acquainted with the different subjects ex hibited. theatre, adorned by maternal love, see Stretching half over the boxes at the galleries wondering at their height and at their enraptured faces now turned to the tained in them, now directed towards the the number of regular placed beads congreen cloud which is so lingeringly kept between them and their promised bliss. The half-peeled orange laid aside when the play begins; their anxiety for that which they understand; their honest laughter which runs through the house like a merry peal of sweet bells; the fear of the little girl lest they should discover the person hid behind the screen; the exultation of the boy when the hero conquers. But, oh, the rapture when the pantomime commences! Ready to leap out of the box, they joy in the mischief of the clown, laugh at the thwacks he gets for his meddling, and feel no small portion of contempt for his ignorance in knowing that hot water will scald and gunpowder explode; while with head aside to give fresh energy to the strokes, they ring their little palms against each other in testimony of exuberant delight. not Who can behold them without reflecting on the many passions that now lie dormant in their bosoms, to be in a few years agitating themselves and the world. Here the coquet begins to appear in the attention paid to a lace frock or kid gloves for the first time displayed, or the domestic tyrant in the selfish boy, who snatches the largest cake, or thrusts his younger brother and sister from the best place. At no season of the year are their holi the alteration of the style, they continue to do this only on the eve of old Christmas-day. An honest countryman, living on the edge of St. Stephen's Down, near Launceston, Cornwall, informed me, October 28, 1790, that he once, with some others, made a trial of the truth of the above, and watching several oxen in their stalls at the above time, at twelve o'clock at night, they observed the two oldest oxen only fall upon their knees, and, as he expressed it in the idiom of the country, make a cruel moan like christian creatures.' I could not but with great difficulty keep my countenance: he saw, and seemed angry that I gave so little credit to his tale, and, walking off in a pettish humour, seemed to marvel at my unbelief.' There is an old print of the Nativity, in which the oxen in the stable, near the virgin and the child, are represented upon their knees, as in a suppliant posture. This graphic representation has probably given rise to the above superstitious notion on this head." Mr. Brand refers to "an old print," as if he had only observed one with this representation; whereas, they abound, and to the present day the ox and the ass are in the wood-cuts of the nativity on our common Christmas carols. Sannazarius, a Latin poet of the fifteenth century, in his poem De Partu Virginis, which he was several years in composing, and twenty years in revising, and which chiefly contributed to the celebrity of his name among the Italians, represents that the virgin wrapped up the new-born infant, and put him into her bosom; that the cattle cherished him with their breath, an ox fell on his knees, and an ass did the same. He declares them both happy, promises they shall be honoured at all the altars in Rome, and apostrophizes the virgin on occasion of the respect the ox and ass have shown her. To a quarto edition of this Latin poem, with an Italian translation by Gori, printed at Florence in 1740, there is a print inscribed "Sacrum monumentum in antiquo vitro Romæ in Museo Victorio," from whence the preceding engraving is presented, as a curious illustration of the obviously ancient mode of delineating the subject. In the edition just mentioned of Sannazarius's exceedingly curious poem, which is described in the editor's often cited volume on "Ancient Mysteries," there are other engravings of the nativity with the ox and the ass, from sculptures on ancient sarcophagi at Rome. This introduction of the ox and the ass warming the infant in the crib with their breath, is a fanciful construction by catholic writers on Isaiah i. 3; "The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib." Sannazarius was a distinguished statesman in the kingdom of Naples. His superb tomb in the church of St. Mark is cuted for and meant to represent Apollo decorated with two figures originally exeand Minerva; but as it appeared indecorous to admit heathen divinities into a christian church, and the figures were thought too excellent to be removed, the person who shows the church is instructed to call them David and Judith: “ You mistake," said a sly rogue who was one of a party surveying the curiosities, "the Egypt's daughter." figures are St. George, and the queen of The demonstrator made a low bow, and thanked him.* FLORAL DIRECTORY. Frankincense. Pinus Tæda. Dedicated to Sts. Thrasilla and Emiliana. December 25. The Nativity of Christ, or Christmas-day. St. Anastasia, & D. 304. Another St. Anastasia. St. Eugenia, A. D. 257. Christmas-day. The festival of the nativity was anciently kept by different churches in April, May, and in this month. It is now kept on this day by every established church of christian denomination; and is a holiday all over England, observed by the suspension of all public and private business, and the congregating of friends and relations for "comfort and joy." Our countryman, Barnaby Googe, from the Latin of Naogeorgus, gives us some Then comes the day wherein the Lorde lines descriptive of the old festival :— did bring his birth to passe ; Whereas at midnight up they rise, This time so holy counted is, and every man to Masse. that divers earnestly Do thinke the waters all to wine are chaunged sodainly ; * Lounger's Com. Place Book. In that same houre that Christ himselfe was borne, and came to light, And unto water streight againe transformde and altred quight. There are beside that mindfully the money still do watch, That first to aultar commes, which then they privily do snatch. The priestes, least other should it have, takes oft the same away, Whereby they thinke throughout the yeare to have good lucke in play, And not to lose then straight at game till day-light do they strive, To make some present proofe how well their hallowde pence wil thrive. Three Masses every priest doth sing, upon that solemne day, With offrings unto every one, that so the more may play. This done, a woodden child in clowtes is on the aultar set, About the which both boyes and gyrles do daunce and trymly jet, And Carrols sing in prayse of Christ, and, for to helpe them heare, The organs auns were every verse with sweete and soiemne cheare. The priestes doe rore aloude; and round about the parentes stande To see the sport, and with their voyce do helpe them and their hande. The commemorations in our own times vary from the account in these versifyings. An accurate observer, with a hand powerful to seize, and a hand skilled in preserving manners, offers us a beautiful sketch of Christmas-tide in the "New Monthly Magazine," of December 1, 1825. Foremost in his picture is the most estimable, because the most useful and ornamental character in society,-a good parish priest. "Our pastor was told one day, in argument, that the interests of christianity were opposed to universal enlightenment. I shall not easily forget his answer. The interests of christianity,' said he, " are the same as the interests of society. It has no other meaning. Christianity is that very enlightenment you speak of. Let any man find out that thing, whatever it be, which is to perform the very greatest good to society, even to its own apparent detriment, and I say that is christianity, or I know not the spirit of its founder. What?' continued he, shall we take christianity for an arithmetical puzzle, or a contradiction in terms, or the bitterness of a bad argument, or the interests, real or supposed, of any parti cular set of men? God forbid. I wish to speak with reverence (this conclusion struck me very much)-I wish to speak with reverence of whatever has taken place in the order of Providence. I wish to think the best of the very evils that have happened; that a good has been got out of them; perhaps that they were even necessary to the good. But when once we have attained better means, and the others are dreaded by the benevolent, and scorned by the wise, then is the time come for throwing open the doors to all kindliness and to all knowledge, and the end of christianity is attained in the reign of beneficence.' "In this spirit our pastor preaches to us always, but most particularly on Christmas-day; when he takes occasion to enlarge on the character and views of the divine person who is supposed then to have been born, and sends us home more than usually rejoicing. On the north side of the church at M. are a great many holly-trees. It is from these that our dining and bed-rooms are furnished with boughs. Families take it by turns to entertain their friends. They meet early; the beef and pudding are noble; the mince-pies-peculiar; the nuts half play-things and half-eatables; the oranges as cold and acid as they ought to be, furnishing us with a superfluity which we can afford to laugh at; the cakes indestructible; the wassail bowls generous, old English, huge, demanding ladles, threatening overflow as they come in, solid with roasted apples when set down. Towards bed-time you hear of elder-wine, and not seldom of punch. At the manorhouse it is pretty much the same as elsewhere. Girls, although they be ladies, are kissed under the misletoe. If any family among us happen to have hit upon an exquisite brewing, they send some of it round about, the squire's house included; and he does the same by the rest. Riddles, hot-cockles, forfeits, music, dances sudden and not to be suppressed, prevail among great and small; and from two o'clock in the day to midnight, M. looks like a deserted place out of doors, but is full of life and merriment within Playing at knights and ladies last year, jade of a charming creature must needs send me out for a piece of ice to put in her wine. It was evening and a hard frost. I shall never forget the cold, cutting, dreary, dead look of every thing out of doors, with a wind through the |