great tables on Christmas day. "I like the old custom," said
the Squire, "not merely because it is stately and pleasing in itself,
but because it was observed at the College of Oxford, at which I was
educated. When I hear the old song chanted, it brings to mind the time
when I was young and gamesome--and the noble old college-hall--and my
fellow-students loitering about in their black gowns; many of whom, poor
lads, are now in their graves!"

The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by such associations,
and who was always more taken up with the text than the sentiment,
objected to the Oxonian's version of the carol; which he affirmed was
different from that sung at college. He went on, with the dry
perseverance of a commentator, to give the college reading, accompanied
by sundry annotations: addressing himself at first to the company at
large; but finding their attention gradually diverted to other talk, and
other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of auditors diminished,
until he concluded his remarks, in an under voice, to a fat-headed old
gentleman next him, who was silently engaged in the discussion of a huge
plateful of turkey.[I]

[Illustration]

The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an epitome
of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders. A
distinguished post was allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host
termed it; being, as he added, "the standard of old English hospitality,
and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expectation." There were
several dishes quaintly decorated, and which had evidently something
traditionary in their embellishments; but about which, as I did not like
to appear over-curious, I asked no questions.

[Illustration]

I could not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with
peacocks' feathers, in imitation of the tail of that bird, which
overshadowed a considerable tract of the table. This the Squire
confessed, with some little hesitation, was a pheasant-pie, though a
peacock-pie was certainly the most authentical; but there had been such
a mortality among the peacocks this season, that he could not prevail
upon himself to have one killed.[J]

It would be tedious, perhaps, to my wiser readers, who may not have that
foolish fondness for odd and obsolete things to which I am a little
given, were I to mention the other makeshifts of this worthy old
humorist, by which he was endeavouring to follow up, though at hum