Christmas day is ushered in at early dawn by a merry peal from the cathedral towers. Children, of course, are up bright and early, to see what Santa Claus, that kindly magician who neglects neither sick nor poor, has left in their stockings. The members of each family embrace each other, while bashful lovers are made to meet under the mistletoe suspended in the most convenient place for the on-lookers to witness the ceremony. Pious folk attend church, while others not so minded pay visits to as many of their friends as possible, to taste the Christmas cake and minced pies and insure for themselves as many "happy mouths" as their digestions will allow, without spoiling the dinner to follow. This comes on in due course; and then we see pater-familias at the head of the table carving the great joint of beef, fat goose, and turkey, surrounded by his family, all smiling and happy. The goose is followed by the rich plum pudding all ablaze, prepared, save for a little steaming, at least a month before. The poor are all supposed to have a dinner this day; if they go hungry, it is their own fault, for the charities have dispensed bags of coal and Christmas beef to all the needy during the past week. The remainder of the day is spent in fun and frolic, — card playing, dancing, snapdragon, charades, and cracker-pulling, Uncle Simon amusing the children with a harmless ghost story or two with a moral, at which the youthful minds are puzzled. In the villages, the squire usually roasts an ox before the yule log in the large hall of his mansion, to a share in which everybody is welcome; and in the evening he gives a ball, to which the servants and the farmers are invited, as well as his own near friends and relatives, — a custom that does a great deal to soften down the asperities and allay the discontent existing between rich and poor. At all hours of the night come the carol singers, disguised in all manner of costumes, trudging through the snow from house to house, and insisting upon tasting the spiced ale and cake, whether the family happens to have retired or not.

Father Christmas having received all honors, Boxing day follows, when every one goes to laugh at the harlequin in the pantomime, and dream of heaven in a transformation scene of limelights and brilliant colors, with pretty ballet girls dressed up as fairies, and a princess who, mayhap, has a mother sadly addicted to drink. Then follows the Stuff ball, which no one of less importance than a county magistrate is allowed to attend,— a very select affair, indeed, at which wealthy young bachelors decide the knotty problem as to who shall be considered the belle of the season, and the next to be presented at court. How many noble equipages from afar rattle through the streets this night, and how many gaping mouths and strained necks are to be seen around the entrance of the Assembly rooms, taking in the handsome dresses, as fashionable beauties step out of their carriages — "to be knocked down to the highest bidder," as Thackeray would say!

New-Years's eve is, perhaps, the most characteristic of all English festivals. It is a great day for parties, card playing, and the like, when everybody either expects company at home or goes to some neighbor's house to celebrate the occasion. The children in the nursery on this day draw lots for the ornaments on the Christmas tree, burn their fingers in the snapdragon, and play blind man's buff to their hearts' content. Half an hour before midnight, however, the children have all been put to bed,