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e ; t h er of us had done much sleeping that night. We had em
loved nl ore than an hour of the interval, after the termination of
the*dance, in arranging the gifts among the branches of the cedar,
and in other matters. Then we had adjourned to an out-house,
where the Major kept his fire-works, and had gotten the explosive
nieces in readiness. They did famous execution when discharged,
routing every body out of his sleep, though it should be as sound
that of the Famous Seven ! The children were all alive in an
instant.
u pad old Father Chrystmasse really come.”
There was a rush to the chimney places in every quarter, where,
the night before, the stockings and satchels had been suspended
rom the cedar branches. Dear aunt Janet had taken good care
that the “ Old Father” should make his appearance ; and there was
a general shout, as each took down his well-stuffed stocking. Ah!
iow easy to make children happy—how unexacting the little
urchins —how moderate in their desires —how innocent their expec
tations —how pure, if fervent, their little hopes ! Treat them lov-
D <rjy —give them gifts such as love may wisely give—and you im
)ress the plastic and hospitable nature with a true moral for the
ieventy years of vicissitude that may follow! Ah! shouts of j
)lessed children ! as if there lay a sweet bird in the soul, all wing j
ind voice, soaring together in sweetness, earth not yet having !
itained the one, or made discord in the accents of the other ! The
dear little creatures ! on what sly steps they stole to the several
:hambers, lingering at the door, waiting to ‘catch’ the parties as
hey issued forth. How they crouched at the entrances of hall
ind library; in the porches, behind the doors, beneath the stairs,
inder the eaves —wherever their little bodies could find snug har
wurage —till they could spring out upon the victim. Three of them,
it the same moment, had aunt Janet about the neck. They pulled
)ff her curls, —they disordered her lace, —they deranged her
landkerehief, —almost entirely demolished her toilet, —and pulled
ler down upon the carpet, with their wild-colt displays of affec
ion; and the dear old maid took it all so sweetly, and smiled
hrougk it all, and only begged where she might have scolded, and
)romised good things to escape, when she might have threatened
)irch and brimstone 1 And the fierce old Baron, the Major him
df, even he, Turk as he is in some respects, he, too, was as
neek under the infliction as if he shared fully the spirit of Ins sis
er* ike boys and girls, half a dozen in number, seized upon him
is ke entered the hall from the court. The girls tugged at arms
ind skirts, the boys had him by the neck, arms and shoulders, at
he same moment.
’ Merry Christmas, Major —■“ Merry Christmas, uncle ;
Merry Christmas, grandpa.” Merry Christmas saluted him, un
hr all sorts of affectionate titles, from their wild, gay, innocent little
voices. And how graciously the old Sultan submitted to he tugged at
and hugged. How he laughed and tossed them up, and suffered them
0 BWa y him to and fro, until they all came down upon rhe carpet
n a heap together! There was no growling, or grunting, or cora
no rebukes and wry faces; but, giving himself up to the
humour of the children, he became for the moment a child him-
And measurably lie was. lie had kept his heart young,
and could thus still identify himself with the child humours of the
llttle throng about him. He knew what lie had to expect, and had
prepared for them. His pockets were a sort of fairy wallet, such
88 read of in the Oriental and German fables, which is always
THE GOLDEN CHRISTMAS.
gi\ing forth, yet always full. Balls, knives, thimbles, dolls in
boxes, pretty books with gold edges and gay pictures, very soon
unfolded themselves from his several pockets, and each of the happy
childien took what he pleased. They went oft laden with trea
sures, and making the house ring with cries of exultation.
At sunrise that morning, the egg-noggin passed from chamber
to chamber. Why eggs at Christmas as well as Easter ? There
is a significance in their use, at these periods, which we leave to the
theelogical antiquarian. They are doubtless typical. Enough that,
in the Bulmer Barony, the old custom was religiously kept up.
Every guest was required to taste, at all events. The ladies mostly,
the dear, delicate young things in particular, were each content
with a wine-glass. Some of the matrons could relish a full cup or
tumbler, and there were some of these who would occasionally find
their way into the contents of a second, and —without getting in
their cups ! We are to graduate the beverage, be it remembered,
according to the capacity the individual; and he alone is the
intemperate—we may add the fool also —who takes a power into
the citadel which he cannot keep in due subjection.
The bell rings for breakfast. The hour is late. All are assem
bled. There is joy in all eyes ; merriment in all voices ; what a
singular conventionalism, established by habits so prolonged, for so
many hundred years, by which, whatever the secret care, it is
overmastered on this occasion, and the sufferer asserts his freedom
for a brief day in the progress of the oppressive time! Breakfast
at the ‘ Barony ’, is, of course, a breakfast for a Prince. Take that
for granted, gentle reader, and spare us the necessity to describe.
The event over, we group together and disperse. The homes are
saddled below. The young gallant lifts his fair one to the selle.
The carriages are ready; and there are parties preparing for a
drive. Some of the young men have gone to the woods, pistol
and rifle shooting. Others are in the library, companioned by the
other sex, at chess and backgammon. We are among these, Ned
Bulmer and myself. We have duties at home. We know not
what moment will bring to the door our respective favourites. And
so, variously engaged and employed, all more or less gratefully,
the hours pass until meridian. A little after, the rolling of wheels
is heard below. We are at once at the entrance. Major Bulmer
is already there. The carriage brings Mrs. Mazyck and her fair
daughter. The old lady is not exactly thawed, but the ice is of a
thin crust only. The Major tenders her his arm, mine is at the
service of Beatrice. Scarcely have we ascended when other vehi
cles are heard below. It is now Ned’s turn, and while the Major
is bowing and supporting Madame Agnes-Theresa, Ned brings in
the dear little witch, Paula, hanging on his sound limb, and turn
ing an inquiring and tender glance of interest upon that which
pleads for pity from the sling. The Major and his sister divide
themselves between the matrons ; while Ned and myself share the
damsels between us. We slip out, unobserved, for a walk, leaving
the ancient quartette in full chase of parish antiquities, recalling
old times and making the passing as pleasant by reflection as pos
sible. Shall I tell you how we strayed, whither we went, what
we said together ? Not a word of it. If you have heart, you
may conceive for yourself; if fancy only, you may trust to conjec
ture. What is said by young persons, with hearts in full agree
ment, will seldom bear reporting. It is so singularly the faculty
of the heart, under such circumstances, to endow the simplest
matters with a rare significance, that ordinary reason becomes ut-
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