nd goose likewise,
Brawn and a dish of sturgeon.

Then, for your Christmas box,
Sweet plum-cakes and money,
Delicate Holland smocks,
Kisses sweet as honey.

Hey for the Christmas ball,
Where we shall be jolly
Jigging short and tall,
Kate, Dick, Ralph, and Molly.

Then to the hop we'll go
Where we'll jig and caper;
Maidens all-a-row;
Will shall pay the scraper.

Hodge shall dance with Prue,
Keeping time with kisses;
We'll have a jovial crew
Of sweet smirking misses.

_Round About Our Coal Fire._

[Illustration The Baron's Hall]

CHRISTMAS IN THE OLDEN TIME.

The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doffed his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The lord underogating share
The vulgar game of post-and-pair.
All hailed with uncontrolled delight
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage as the crown
Brought tidings of salvation down.
The fire with well-dried logs supplied
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table's oaken face,
Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar's head frowned on high,
Crested with bay and rosemary.
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell
How, when, and where the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
The wassail round, in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by
Plum-porridge stood and Christmas-pie;
Nor failed old Scotland to produce
At such high tide her savory goose.
Then came the merry masquers in
And carols roared with blithesome din;
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note and strong.
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery.
While shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made:
But, oh! what masquers richly dight
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England when
Old Christmas brought