Lo, now is come our joyfulst 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 bakt meats choke

And all their spits are turning.

Without the door let sorrow lie,

And if, for cold, it hap to die,

Weel bury t in a Christmas pye,

And evermore be merry.

WITHERS, Jnveilia.

I HAD ?nished 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.

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