onnemara cloak, which seemed to
be donned for the first time, besides a bran new bonnet; and, thanks to
"elbow grease," her peachy, soap-scrubbed cheeks shone again. She was
returning from early chapel, whither she had gone to mass and
confession; and where I trust she had received absolution for her little
peccadilloes. I've no doubt she _did_ get absolution, for she told me
that Father Macmanus was "a raal gintleman."

Then Catch chased a roving cat until it got within the neighbouring
shelter of its domiciliary railings, whence it me-ai-ouwed to him,
through all the vowels of pussy's vocabulary, a Christmas compliment--
with, probably, a curse tacked on to the tail of it, or that "phoo!
phoo! phiz!" meant nothing. But the feline expletives were all thrown
away; for Catch was only "full of fun and with nobody to play with him,"
like Peter Mooney's goose, and had only chased pussy in the natural
exuberance of his spirits, having no "hard feelings" towards her, or any
desire, I know, to injure her soft tabby fur.

We next came across old Shuffler, the house-agent, waddling along, with
his sound eye rolling buoyantly on its axis, while the artificial orb
glared steadily forward in a fixed, glassy stare.

"Bootiful weether!" said he, cordially, to me, touching his
hat--"bootiful weether, sir!"

"It _is_ a fine day," I responded. "A merry Christmas to you, Mr
Shuffler."

"Same to you, sir, and many on 'em," he replied, courteously.

"Thank you, Shuffler," I said, satisfied with the colloquy, "but I must
now say good day!"

"Good day, and a 'appy noo year to you," answered he, passing on his
way. Really, everybody appeared to be very civil and good natured to-
day; and everything joyous and rose-coloured! Was it owing to the
bright morning, or to the fact of its being Christmas, or to the sweet
feelings I had lying hidden in my heart anent my darling?

I cannot tell: can you?

After a time Catch and I reached the river. It was not now rolling by,
a muddy, silent, whilom sluggish, whilom busy stream. It was quite
transformed in its appearance and resembled more some frozen arctic
stream than the old Thames which I knew so well. Far as the eye could
reach, it was covered with sheets of broken ice, again congealed
together and piled up with snow--so many little bergs, that had been
born at Great Marlow and Hampton, and other spots above the locks;
gradually increasing in size and bulk as they span round and