textfiles/etext/AUTHORS/IRVING/irving-christmas-576.txt

                                    1819-20

                                THE SKETCH BOOK

                              THE CHRISTMAS DINNER

                              by Washington Irving

           Lo, now is come our joyful'st feast!

             Let every man be jolly,

           Eache roome with yvie leaves is drest,

             And every post with holly.

           Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,

             And Christmas blocks are burning;

           Their ovens they with bak't meats choke

             And all their spits are turning.

               Without the door let sorrow lie,

               And if, for cold, it hap to die,

               Wee'le bury 't in a Christmas pye,

               And evermore be merry.

                                   WITHERS' JUVENILIA.

  I HAD finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank Bracebridge
in the library, when we heard a distant thwacking sound, which he
informed me was a signal for the serving up of the dinner. The
squire kept up old customs in kitchen as well as hall; and the
rolling-pin, struck upon the dresser by the cook, summoned the
servants to carry in the meats.

         Just in this nick the cook knock'd thrice,

         And all the waiters in a trice

           His summons did obey;

         Each serving man, with dish in hand,

         March'd boldly up, like our train band,

           Presented, and away.*

  * Sir John Suckling.

  The dinner was served up in the great hall, where the squire
always held his Christmas banquet. A blazing crackling fire of logs
had been heaped on to warm the spacious apartment, and the flame
went sparkling and wreathing up the wide-mouthed chimney. The great
picture of the crusader and his white horse had been profusely
decorated with greens for the occasion; and holly and ivy had likewise
been wreathed round the helmet and weapons on the opposite wall, which
I understood were the arms of the same warrior. I must own, by the by,
I had strong doubts about the authenticity of the painting and armor
as having belonged to the crusader, they certainly  having the stamp
of more recent days; but I was told that the painting had been so
considered time out of mind; and that, as to the armor, it had been
found in a lumber-room, and elevated to its present situation by the
squire, who at once determined it to be the armor of the family
hero; and as he was absolute authority on all such subjects in his own
household, the matter had passed into current acceptation. A sideboard
was set out just under this chivalric trophy, on which was a display
of plate that might have vied (at least in variety) with
Belshazzar's parade of the vessels of the temple: "flagons, cans,
cups, beakers, goblets, basins, and ewers;" the gorgeous utensils of
good companionship that had gradually accumulated through many
generations of jovial housekeepers. Before these stood the two Yule
candles, beaming like two stars of the first magnitude; other lights
were distributed in branches, and the whole array glittered like a
firmament of silver.

  We were ushered into this banqueting scene with the sound of
minstrelsy, the old harper being seated on a stool beside the
fireplace, and twanging his instrument with a vast deal more power
than melody. Never did Christmas board display a more goodly and
gracious assemblage of countenances; those who were not handsome were,
at least, happy; and happiness is a rare improver of your hard-favored
visage. I always consider an old English family as well worth studying
as a collection of Holbein's portraits or Albert Durer's prints. There
is much antiquarian lore to be acquired; much knowledge of the
physiognomies of former times. Perhaps it may be from having
continually before their eyes those rows of old family portraits, with
which the mansions of this country are stocked; certain it is, that
the quaint features of antiquity are often most faithfully perpetuated
in these ancient lines; and I have traced an old family nose through a
whole picture gallery, legitimately handed down from generation to
generation, almost from the time of the Conquest. Something of the
kind was to be observed in the worthy company around me. Many of their
faces had evidently originated in a Gothic age, and been merely copied
by succeeding generations; and there was one little girl in
particular, of staid demeanor, with a high Roman nose, and an
antique vinegar aspect, who was a great favorite of the squire's,
being, as he said, a Bracebridge all over, and the very counterpart of
one of his ancestors who figured in the court of Henry VIII.

  The parson said grace, which was not a short familiar one, such as
is commonly addressed to the Deity in these unceremonious days; but
a long, courtly, well-worded one of the ancient school. There was
now a pause, as if something was expected; when suddenly the butler
entered the hall with some degree of bustle: he was attended by a
servant on each side with a large wax-light, and bore a silver dish,
on which was an enormous pig's head, decorated with rosemary, with a
lemon in its mouth, which was placed with great formality at the
head of the table. The moment this pageant made its appearance, the
harper struck up a flourish; at the conclusion of which the young
Oxonian, on receiving a hint from the squire, gave, with an air of the
most comic gravity, an old carol, the first verse of which was as
follows:

                 Caput apri defero

                 Reddens laudes Domino.

               The boar's head in hand bring I,

               With garlands gay and rosemary.

               I pray you all synge merrily

                 Qui estis in convivio.

  Though prepared to witness many of these little eccentricities, from
being apprised of the peculiar hobby of mine host; yet, I confess, the
parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed
me, until I gathered from the conversation of the squire and the
parson, that it was meant to represent the bringing in of the boar's
head; a dish formerly served up with much ceremony and the sound of
minstrelsy and song, at 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 at
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.*

  * The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas day is
still observed in the hall of Queen's College, Oxford. I was favored
by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and as it may be
acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these grave and
learned matters, I give it entire.

             The boar's head in hand bear I,

             Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary;

             And I pray you, my masters, be merry

               Quot estis in convivio.

                 Caput apri defero,

                 Reddens laudes domino.

             The boar's head, as I understand,

             Is the rarest dish in all this land,

             Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland

               Let us servire cantico.

                 Caput apri defero, etc.

             Our steward hath provided this

             In honor of the King of Bliss,

             Which on this day to be served is

               In Reginensi Atrio.

                 Caput apri defero,

                         etc., etc., etc.

  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 traditional in their embellishments; but about
which, as I did not like to appear over-curious, I asked no questions.

  I could not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with
peacock's 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.*

  * The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately
entertainments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of
which the head appeared above the crust in all its plumage, with the
beak richly gilt; at the other end the tail was displayed. Such pies
were served up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when knights-errant
pledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise, whence came
the ancient oath, used by justice Shallow, "by cock and pie."

  The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast;
and Massinger, in his City Madam, gives some idea of the
extravagance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared
for the gorgeous revels of the olden times:-

  Men may talk of Country Christmasses,

  Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues;

  Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris; the carcases of three fat
wethers bruised for gravy to make sauce for a single peacock.

  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 make-shifts of this worthy
old humorist, by which he was endeavoring to follow up, though at
humble distance, the quaint customs of antiquity. I was pleased,
however, to see the respect shown to his whims by his children and
relatives; who, indeed, entered readily into the full spirit of
them, and seemed all well versed in their parts; having doubtless been
present at many a rehearsal. I was amused, too, at the air of profound
gravity with which the butler and other servants executed the duties
assigned them, however eccentric. They had an old-fashioned look;
having, for the most part, been brought up in the household, and grown
into keeping with the antiquated mansion, and the humors of its
lord; and most probably looked upon all his whimsical regulations as
the established laws of honorable housekeeping.

  When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a huge silver
vessel of rare and curious workmanship, which he placed before the
squire. Its appearance was hailed with acclamation; being the
Wassail Bowl, so renowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had
been prepared by the squire himself; for it was a beverage in the
skilful mixture of which he particularly prided himself: alleging that
it was too abtruse and complex for the comprehension of an ordinary
servant. It was a potation, indeed, that might well make the heart
of a toper leap within him; being composed of the richest and
raciest wines, highly spiced and sweetened, with roasted apples
bobbing about the surface.*

  * The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of wine;
with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crabs; in this way
the nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families, and
round the hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also
called Lamb's Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his Twelfth Night:

               Next crowne the bowle full

               With gentle Lamb's Wool;

             Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger

               With store of ale too;

               And thus ye must doe

             To make the Wassaile a swinger.

  The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with a serene look of
indwelling delight, as he stirred this mighty bowl. Having raised it
to his lips, with a hearty wish of a merry Christmas to all present,
he sent it brimming round the board, for every one to follow his
example, according to the primitive style; pronouncing it "the ancient
fountain of good feeling, where all hearts met together."*

  * "The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each
having his cup. When the steward came to the doore with the Wassel, he
was to cry three times, Wassel, Wassel, Wassel, and then the
chappell (chaplein) was to answer with a song."- ARCHAEOLOGIA.

  There was much laughing and rallying as the honest emblem of
Christmas joviality circulated, and was kissed rather coyly by the
ladies. When it reached Master Simon, he raised it in both hands,
and with the air of a boon companion struck up an old Wassail chanson.

                 The brown bowle,

                 The merry brown bowle,

                 As it goes round about-a,

                     Fill

                     Still,

                 Let the world say what it will,

                 And drink your fill all out-a.

                 The deep canne,

                 The merry deep canne,

                 As thou dost freely quaff-a,

                     Sing

                     Fling,

                 Be as merry as a king,

                 And sound a lusty laugh-a.*

  * From Poor Robin's Almanac.

  Much of the conversation during dinner turned upon family topics, to
which I was a stranger. There was, however, a great deal of rallying
of Master Simon about some gay widow, with whom he was accused of
having a flirtation. This attack was commenced by the ladies; but it
was continued throughout the dinner by the fat-headed old gentleman
next the parson, with the persevering assiduity of a slow hound; being
one of those long-winded jokers, who, though rather dull at starting
game, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting it down. At every
pause in the general conversation, he renewed his bantering in
pretty much the same terms; winking hard at me with both eyes,
whenever he gave Master Simon what he considered a home thrust. The
latter, indeed, seemed fond of being teased on the subject, as old
bachelors are apt to be; and he took occasion to inform me, in an
undertone, that the lady in question was a prodigiously fine woman,
and drove her own curricle.

  The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity,
and, though the old hall may have resounded in its time with many a
scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed
more honest and genuine enjoyment. How easy it is for one benevolent
being to diffuse pleasure around him; and how truly is a kind heart
a fountain of gladness, making every thing in its vicinity to
freshen into smiles! the joyous disposition of the worthy squire was
perfectly contagious; he was happy himself, and disposed to make all
the world happy; and the little eccentricities of his humor did but
season, in a manner, the sweetness of his philanthropy.

  When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as usual, became
still more animated; many good things were broached which had been
thought of during dinner, but which would not exactly do for a
lady's ear; and though I cannot positively affirm that there was
much wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of rare wit
produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a mighty tart,
pungent ingredient, and much too acid for some stomachs; but honest
good humor is the oil and wine of a merry meeting, and there is no
jovial companionship equal to that where the jokes are rather small,
and the laughter abundant.

  The squire told several long stories of early college pranks and
adventures, in some of which the parson had been a sharer; though in
looking at the latter, it required some effort of imagination to
figure such a little dark anatomy of a man into the perpetrator of a
madcap gambol. Indeed, the two college chums presented pictures of
what men may be made by their different lots in life. The squire had
left the university to live lustily on his paternal domains, in the
vigorous enjoyment of prosperity and sunshine, and had flourished on
to a hearty and florid old age; whilst the poor parson, on the
contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, in the
silence and shadows of his study. Still there seemed to be a spark
of almost extinguished fire, feebly glimmering in the bottom of his
soul; and as the squire hinted at a sly story of the parson and a
pretty milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of the Isis, the
old gentleman made an "alphabet of faces," which, as far as I could
decipher his physiognomy, I verily believe was indicative of
laughter;- indeed, I have rarely met with an old gentleman that took
absolute offence at the imputed gallantries of his youth.

  I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on the dry land of
sober judgment. The company grew merrier and louder as their jokes
grew duller. Master Simon was in as chirping a humor as a
grasshopper filled with dew; his old songs grew of a warmer
complexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He even gave
a long song about the wooing of a widow, which he informed me he had
gathered from an excellent black-letter work, entitled "Cupid's
Solicitor for Love," containing store of good advice for bachelors,
and which he promised to lend me: the first verse was to this effect:

           He that will woo a widow must not dally,

             He must make hay while the sun doth shine;

           He must not stand with her, shall I, shall I,

             But boldly say Widow, thou must be mine.

  This song inspired the fat-headed old gentleman, who made several
attempts to tell a rather broad story out of Joe Miller, that was
pat to the purpose; but he always stuck in the middle, everybody
recollecting the latter part excepting himself. The parson, too, began
to show the effects of good cheer, having gradually settled down
into a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on one side. Just
at this juncture we were summoned to the drawing-room, and, I suspect,
at the private instigation of mine host, whose joviality seemed always
tempered with a proper love of decorum.

  After the dinner table was removed, the hall was given up to the
younger members of the family, who, prompted to all kind of noisy
mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, made its old walls ring with
their merriment, as they played at romping games. I delight in
witnessing the gambols of children, and particularly at this happy
holiday season, and could not help stealing out of the drawing-room on
hearing one of their peals of laughter. I found them at the game of
blind-man's-buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their revels,
and seemed on all occasions to fulfill the office of that ancient
potentate, the Lord of Misrule,* was blinded in the midst of the hall.
The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about
Falstaff; pinching him, plucking at the skirts of his coat, and
tickling him with straws. One fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen,
with her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in
a glow, her frock half torn off her shoulders, a complete picture of a
romp, was the chief tormentor; and, from the slyness with which Master
Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymph in
corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs, I suspected
the rogue of being not a whit more blinded than was convenient.

  * At Christmasse there was in the Kinge's house, wheresoever hee was
lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merie disportes, and the
like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or good
worshippe, were he spirituall or temporall.- STOWE.

  When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated
round the fire, listening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a
high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore,
which had been brought from the library for his particular
accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which
his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so admirably accorded, he
was dealing out strange accounts of the popular superstitions and
legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become
acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches. I am half
inclined to think that the old gentleman was himself somewhat
tinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be who live a
recluse and studious life in a sequestered part of the country, and
pore over black-letter tracts, so often filled with the marvellous and
supernatural. He gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the
neighboring peasantry, concerning the effigy of the crusader, which
lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it was the only monument of
the kind in that part of the country, it had always been regarded with
feelings of superstition by the good wives of the village. It was said
to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of the church-yard in
stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and one old woman,
whose cottage bordered on the church-yard, had seen it through the
windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and
down the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left
unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the
spirit in a state of trouble and restlessness. Some talked of gold and
jewels buried in the tomb, over which the spectre kept watch; and
there was a story current of a sexton in old times, who endeavored
to break his way to the coffin at night, but, just as he reached it,
received a violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, which
stretched him senseless on the pavement. These tales were often
laughed at by some of the sturdier among the rustics, yet, when
night came on, there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were
shy of venturing alone in the footpath that led across the
church-yard.

  From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader
appeared to be the favorite hero of ghost stories throughout the
vicinity. His picture, which hung up in the hall, was thought by the
servants to have something supernatural about it; for they remarked
that, in whatever part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior
were still fixed on you. The old porter's wife, too, at the lodge, who
had been born and brought up in the family, and was a great gossip
among the maid servants, affirmed, that in her young days she had
often heard say, that on Midsummer eve, when it was well known all
kinds of ghosts, goblins, and fairies become visible and walk
abroad, the crusader used to mount his horse, come down from his
picture, ride about the house, down the avenue, and so to the church
to visit the tomb; on which occasion the church door most civilly
swung open of itself; not that he needed it; for he rode through
closed gates and even stone walls, and had been seen by one of the
dairy maids to pass between two bars of the great park gate, making
himself as thin as a sheet of paper.

  All these superstitions I found had been very much countenanced by
the squire, who, though not superstitious himself, was very fond of
seeing others so. He listened to every goblin tale of the
neighboring gossips with infinite gravity, and held the porter's
wife in high favor on account of her talent for the marvellous. He was
himself a great reader of old legends and romances, and often lamented
that he could not believe in them; for a superstitious person, he
thought, must live in a kind of fairy land.

  Whilst we were all attention to the parson's stories, our ears
were suddenly assailed by a burst of heterogeneous sounds from the
hall, in which were mingled something like the clang of rude
minstrelsy, with the uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter.
The door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into the
room, that might almost have been mistaken for the breaking up of
the court of Fairy. That indefatigable spirit, Master Simon, in the
faithful discharge of his duties as lord of misrule, had conceived the
idea of a Christmas mummery or masking; and having called in to his
assistance the Oxonian and the young officer, who were equally ripe
for any thing that should occasion romping and merriment, they had
carried it into instant effect. The old housekeeper had been
consulted; the antique clothes-presses and wardrobes rummaged, and
made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen the light
for several generations; the younger part of the company had been
privately convened from the parlor and hall, and the whole had been
bedizened out, into a burlesque imitation of an antique mask.*

  * Maskings or mummeries were favorite sports at Christmas in old
times; and the wardrobes at halls and manor-houses were often laid
under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings. I
strongly suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from Ben
Jonson's Masque of Christmas.

  Master Simon led the van, as "Ancient Christmas," quaintly
apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspect of
one of the old housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have
served for a village steeple, and must indubitably have figured in the
days of the Covenanters. From under this his nose curved boldly forth,
flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a
December blast. He was accompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as
"Dame Mince Pie," in the venerable magnificence of a faded brocade,
long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer
appeared as Robin Hood, in a sporting dress of Kendal green, and a
foraging cap with a gold tassel.

  The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to deep research,
and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young
gallant in the presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his
arm in a pretty rustic dress, as "Maid Marian." The rest of the
train had been metamorphosed in various ways; the girls trussed up
in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, and the
striplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad
skirts, hanging sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the
character of Roast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other worthies celebrated
in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian,
in the appropriate character of Misrule; and I observed that he
exercised rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the smaller
personages of the pageant.

  The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, according to
ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and merriment. Master
Simon covered himself with glory by the stateliness with which, as
Ancient Christmas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though
giggling, Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the
characters, which from its medley of costumes, seemed as though the
old family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the
sport. Different centuries were figuring at cross hands and right
and left; the dark ages were cutting pirouettes and rigadoons; and the
days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line
of succeeding generations.

  The worthy squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this
resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish
delight. He stood chuckling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely
hearing a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was
discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the
Pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be
derived.* For my part, I was in a continual excitement from the varied
scenes of whim and innocent gayety passing before me. It was inspiring
to see wild-eyed frolic and warm-hearted hospitality breaking out from
among the chills and looms of winter, and old age throwing off his
apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment.
I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that
these fleeting customs were passing fast into oblivion, and that
this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of
them was still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too,
mingled with all this revelry, that gave it a peculiar zest: it was
suited to the time and place; and as the old manor-house almost reeled
with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long
departed years.*(2)

  * Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from
pavo, a peacock, says, "It is a grave and majestic dance; the method
of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords,
by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their
mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion
whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a peacock."- History of Music.

  *(2) At the time of the first publication of this paper, the picture
of an old-fashioned Christmas in the country was pronounced by some as
out of date. The author had afterwards an opportunity of witnessing
almost all the customs above described, existing in unexpected vigor
in the skirts of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, where he passed the
Christmas holidays, The reader will find some notice of them in the
author's account of his sojourn at Newstead Abbey.

  But enough of Christmas and its gambols; it is time for me to
pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the questions asked by my
graver readers, "To what purpose is all this- how is the world to be
made wiser by this talk?" Alas! is there not wisdom enough extant
for the instruction of the world? And if not, are there not
thousands of abler pens laboring for its improvement?- It is so much
pleasanter to please than to instruct- to play the companion rather
than the preceptor.

  What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the
mass of knowledge; or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be
safe guides for the opinions of others? But in writing to amuse, if
I fail, the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, I
can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle
from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of
sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film
of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make
my reader more in good humor with his fellow beings and himself,
surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain.

                        THE END
.