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CHRISTMAS “CRACKERS.”

Plum-pudding never disagrees with me, however much I take of it.  No more do mince-pies, no matter how many I eat.  Steaming hot-and-strong gin-punch is the most wholesome beverage; so, also, is brandy-punch.  It can’t harm anybody who, on the Pickwickian principle, “takes enough of it.”  Both beverages go admirably with cigars and pipes.  If you have anything like a headache on Boxing-day morning, depend upon it, it comes from abstemiousness in drinking, eating, and smoking.

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[Illustration:  SUGGESTION FOR PICTORIAL DIRECTORY.

“Hide Pa Corner.”

Eatin’ Plaice.]

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LITERARY AND DRAMATIC.—­It is now generally known, and, if not, it is high time it should be, that A Million of Money, advertised as original, is only an instance of genuine “translation” from Old Drury Lane to Covent Garden, where it ought to continue its previous success.

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SHAKSPEARE AT YULETIDE.—­Excellent arrangements at the Lyceum for Christmas.  Genial Ravenswood is to be performed only on a Friday.  For the rest,—­no not “the rest” where so much work is involved,—­for “the remainder” of the week, the Master of the Shakespearian Revels gives us Much Ado About Nothing, with our ELLEN and HENRY as Beatrice and Benedick, and with all its memorable glory of costume and scenery,—­a Shakspearian revival well worthy to be reckoned as among the foremost of all the attractions offered by the theatres this Christmas.

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[Illustration:  CHRISTMAS EVE AT THE MOATED GRANGE.

Emily (in the midst of Aunt Marianna’s blood-curdling Ghost Story).  “HUSH!  LISTEN!  THERE’S A DOOR BANGING SOMEWHERE DOWNSTAIRS!—­AND YET THE SERVANTS HAVE GONE TO BED. GEORGE, DO JUST RUN DOWN AND SEE WHAT IT CAN BE!”

[George wishes himself back at Charterhouse.]]

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“KEEP THE POT A-BOILING!”

(A SEASONABLE SUGGESTION.)

  Christmas comes once more,
    Well-beloved Old Father! 
  Though the season’s hoar,
    Warm his welcome—­rather! 
  Parties come and go,
    True to him our heart is,
  With his beard of snow,
    Best of (Christmas) Parties! 
  Say the day is chill,
    Say the weather’s windy,
  He brings warm good-will,
    Not heart-freezing shindy. 
  “Union!” is his cry,—­
    Hearts and hands and voices. 
  Confraternity
    His kind soul rejoices. 
  When the youngsters slide
    On the frozen river. 
  As they glow and glide,
    Do they shrink or shiver? 
  Nay; nor dread nor doubt
    Their brisk sport is spoiling,
  Gleefully they shout,
    “Keep the Pot a-boiling!”