is oar to pull? There is that wonderful old stroke-oar in the
Queen's galley. How many years has he pulled? Day and night, in rough
water or smooth, with what invincible vigor and surprising gayety he
plies his arms. There is in the same Galere Capitaine, that well-known,
trim figure, the bow-oar; how he tugs, and with what a will! How both of
them have been abused in their time! Take the Lawyer's galley, and
that dauntless octogenarian in command; when has HE ever complained or
repined about his slavery? There is the Priest's galley--black and
lawn sails--do any mariners out of Thames work harder? When lawyer, and
statesman, and divine, and writer are snug in bed, there is a ring
at the poor Doctor's bell. Forth he must go, in rheumatism or snow; a
galley-slave bearing his galley-pots to quench the flames of fever, to
succor mothers and young children in their hour of peril, and, as gently
and soothingly as may be, to carry the hopeless patient over to the
silent shore. And have we not just read of the actions of the Queen's
galleys and their brave crews in the Chinese waters? Men not more worthy
of human renown and honor to-day in their victory, than last year in
their glorious hour of disaster. So with stout hearts may we ply the
oar, messmates all, till the voyage is over, and the Harbor of Rest is
found.

ROUND ABOUT THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

The kindly Christmas tree, from which I trust every gentle reader has
pulled a bonbon or two, is yet all aflame whilst I am writing, and
sparkles with the sweet fruits of its season. You young ladies, may you
have plucked pretty giftlings from it; and out of the cracker sugarplum
which you have split with the captain or the sweet young curate may
you have read one of those delicious conundrums which the confectioners
introduce into the sweetmeats, and which apply to the cunning passion of
love. Those riddles are to be read at YOUR age, when I dare say they are
amusing. As for Dolly, Merry, and Bell, who are standing at the
tree, they don't care about the love-riddle part, but understand the
sweet-almond portion very well. They are four, five, six years old.
Patience, little people! A dozen merry Christmases more, and you will be
reading those wonderful love-conundrums, too. As for us elderly folks,
we watch the babies at their sport, and the young people pulling at
the branches: and instead of finding bonbons or sweeties in the packets
which WE pluck off the boughs, we fin