I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of them were 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.

     [11] See Note K.

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 labouring 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 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 humour with his fellow beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain.

THE END.

Notes

[Footnote 1:  NOTE A.

The misletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens at Christmas; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush.  When the berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases.]

[Footnote 2:  NOTE B.

The Yule-clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, brought into the house with great ceremony, on Christmas eve, laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year’s clog.  While it lasted there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales.  Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles, but in the cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire.  The Yule-clog was to burn all night; if it went out, it was considered a sign of ill luck.

Herrick mentions it in one of his songs: 

“Come, bring with a noise
My merrie, merrie boyes,
The Christmas log to the firing: 
While my good dame, she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts’ desiring.”

The Yule-clog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in England, particularly in the north, and there are several superstitions connected with it among the peasantry.  If a squinting person come to the house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is considered an ill omen.  The brand remaining from the Yule-clog is carefully put away to light the next year’s Christmas fire.]