were figuring at cross hands and right and left: the dark ages were cutting pirouettes1 and rigadoons; and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding generations.

The worthy Squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling, and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.3 For my part, I was in a continual excitement from the varied scenes of whim and innocent gayety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-eyed Frolic and warm-hearted Hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and Old Age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was perhaps the only family in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry, that gave it a peculiar zest it was suited to the time and place; and, as the old manor-house almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long-departed years.

But enough of Christmas and its gambols: it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the question asked by my graver readers, "To what purpose is all this?

1 Whirling on the tip of one foot.

How is the

2 French, rigodon. A dance said to have come from Provence, France. It is gay and brisk in character.

3 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called pavon, from pavo (“ a peacock "), says, "It is a grave and majestic dance; the method of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a peacock.

hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer appeared as Robin Hood,1 in a sporting dress of Kendal green 2 and a foraging cap with a gold tassel.

The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to deep research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young gallant in presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a pretty rustic dress, as Maid Marian.3 The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways, the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line; and the striplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hanging sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the characters of Roast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other worthies celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian, in the appropriate character of Misrule; and I observed that he exercised rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the smaller personages of the pageant.

The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, according to ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and merriment. Master Simon covered himself with glory by the stateliness with which, as Ancient Christmas, he walked a minuet4 with the peerless though giggling Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance from all the characters, which, from its medley of costumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the sport. Different centuries

1 The famous legendary outlaw (born at Locksley, in Notts, in the reign of Henry II., 1160). His real name was Fitzooth, and it is commonly said he was the Earl of Huntingdon.

2 Woolen cloth of coarse texture, called Kendal from the town of that name in Westmoreland, England, where it was first made.

3 A name assumed by Matilda, daughter of Robert Lord Fitzwalter, while Robin Hood (her lover) remained in a state of outlawry.

4 A slow, very graceful dance, performed in or time; originated, it is said, in Poitou, France, about the middle of the seventeenth century. Its name is from the French menuet (Latin, minutus, "small"), the steps taken

were figuring at cross hands and right and left: the dark ages were cutting pirouettes1 and rigadoons; and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding generations.

The worthy Squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling, and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.3 For my part, I was in a continual excitement from the varied scenes of whim and innocent

gayety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-eyed Frolic and warm-hearted Hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and Old Age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was perhaps the only family in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry, that culiar zest it was suited to the time and place; and, as the old manor-house almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long-departed years.

gave it a pe

But enough of Christmas and its gambols: it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the question asked by my graver readers, "To what purpose is all this? How is the

1 Whirling on the tip of one foot.

2 French, rigodon. A dance said to have come from Provence, France. It is gay and brisk in character.

3 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called pavon, from pavo (“ a peacock "), says, “It is a grave and majestic dance; the method of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a

world to be made wiser by this talk?" Alas! is there not wisdom enough extant for the instruction of the world? and if not, are there not thousands of abler pens laboring for its improvement? It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct,play the companion rather than the preceptor.

to

What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge, or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others? But in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humor with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain.

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.1

N one of those sober and rather melancholy days in the

ON

latter part of autumn, when the shadows of morning and evening almost mingle together, and throw a gloom over the decline of the year, I passed several hours in rambling about Westminster Abbey. There was something congenial to the season in the mournful magnificence of the old pile; and, as I passed its threshold, it seemed like stepping back into the regions of antiquity, and losing myself among the shades of former ages.

1 The coronation church of the sovereigns of England from the time of Harold (1066). It occupies the site of a chapel built by Siebert in honor of St. Peter, on a slightly elevated spot rising from the marshy ground bordering the Thames. The Abbey was fifteen years in building, and was the first cruciform church in England. It contains the tombs and monuments of many of the sovereigns of Great Britain, and the memorials of England's

were figuring at cross hands and right and left: the dark ages were cutting pirouettes1 and rigadoons;2 and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding generations.

The worthy Squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling, and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.3 For my part, I was in a continual excitement from the varied scenes of whim and innocent gayety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-eyed Frolic and warm-hearted Hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and Old Age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was perhaps the only family in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry, that gave it a peculiar zest: it was suited to the time and place; and, as the old manor-house almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long-departed years.

But enough of Christmas and its gambols: it is time for me. to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the question asked by my graver readers, "To what purpose is all this? How is the

1 Whirling on the tip of one foot.

2 French, rigodon. A dance said to have come from Provence, France. It is gay and brisk in character.

3 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called pavon, from pavo (“ a peacock "), says, "It is a grave and majestic dance; the method of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a