Saint George. Where is the Turk, that will before me stand? [They fight, the Knight is overcome, and Turkish Knight. Oh! pardon me, St. George! pardon of thee I crave, Saint George. No pardon shalt thou have, while I have foot to stand, [They fight again, and the Knight is killed; Father Christmas calls for the Doctor, with whom the same dialogue occurs as before, and the cure is performed. Enter the Giant Turpin. Here come I, the Giant! bold Turpin is my name, Saint George. Here's one that dares to look thee in the face, [They fight, and the Giant is killed; medical aid is Father Christmas. Now, ladies and gentlemen, your sport is most ended. Come throw in your money, and think it no wrong." And these, with the dance filling up the intervals, and enlivening the winter nights,—are amongst the sports and amusements which extend themselves over the Christmas season, and connect together its more special and characteristic observances. CHRISTMAS EVE. 24TH DECEMBER. "Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes HAMLET. THE progress of the Christmas celebrations has, at length, brought us up to the immediate threshold of that high day, in honor of which they are all instituted; and, amid the crowd of festivities by which it is, on all sides, surrounded, the Christian heart makes a pause, to-night. Not that the Eve of Christmas is marked by an entire abstinence from that spirit of festival by which the rest of this season is distinguished,- -nor that the joyous character of the event, on whose immediate verge it stands, requires that it should. No part of that season is more generally dedicated to the assembling of friends, than are the great day, itself, and the eve which ushers it in. Still, however, the feelings of rejoicing, which properly belong to the blessed occasion, are chastened by the immediate presence of the occasion itself; and touching traditions and beautiful superstitions have given an air of solemnity to the night, beneath whose influence the spirit of commemoration assumes a religious character, and takes a softened tone. Before, however, touching upon the customs and ceremonies of the night, or upon those natural superstitions which have hung themselves around its sacred watches, we must take a glimpse at an out-of-door scene, which forms a curious-enough feature of Christmas-eve-and is rather connected with the great festival of to-morrow, than with the hushed and expectant feelings which are the fitting moral condition of to-night. 66 Everywhere, throughout the British isles, Christmas-eve is marked by an increased activity about the good things of this life. "Now," says Stevenson, an old writer whom we have already quoted, for the customs of Charles the Second's time, capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mutton, must all die; for in twelve days, a multitude of people will not be fed a little ;"—and the preparations, in this respect, of this present period of grace, are made much after the ancient prescription of Stevenson. The abundant displays of every kind of edible, in the London markets, on Christmas-eve, with a view to the twelve days' festival, of which it is the overture—the blaze of lights amid which they are exhibited, and the evergreen decorations by which they are embowered-together with the crowds of idlers or of purchasers that wander through these well-stored magazines present a picture of abundance, and a congress of faces, well worthy of a single visit from the stranger, to whom a London market, on the eve of Christmas, is, as yet, a novelty. The approach of Christmas-eve, in the metropolis, is marked by the Smithfield show of over-fed cattle; by the enormous beasts and birds, for the fattening of which medals and cups and prizes have been awarded by committees of amateur graziers and feeders ;-in honor of which monstrosities, dinners have been eaten, toasts drunk, and speeches made.. These prodigious specimens of corpulency we behold, after being thus glorified, led like victims of antiquity, decked with ribands and other tokens of triumphor perhaps, instead of led, we should, as the animals are scarcely able to waddle, have used the word goaded-to be immolated at the altar of gluttony, in celebration of Christmas! To admiring crowds, on the eve itself, are the results of oil-cake and turnip feeding displayed, in the various butchers' shops of the metropolis and its vicinity; and the efficacy of walnut-cramming is illustrated in Leadenhall market,-where Norfolk turkeys and Dorking fowls appear, in numbers and magnitude unrivalled. The average weight given for each turkey, by the statement heretofore quoted by us, of the number and gravity of those birds sent up to London from Norfolk, during two days of a Christmas, some years ago—is nearly twelve pounds; but what is called a fine bird, in Leadenhall Market, weighs, when trussed, from eighteen to one or two-and-twenty pounds, the average price of which may be stated at twenty shillings; and prize turkeys have been known to weigh more than a quarter of a hundred weight. Brawn is another dish of this season; and is sold by the poulterers, fishmongers, and pastry-cooks. The supply for the consumption of London is chiefly derived from Canterbury, Oxfordshire, and Hampshire. "It is manufactured from the flesh of large boars, which are suffered to live in a half-wild state, and, when put up to fatten, are strapped and belted tight round the principal parts of the carcass, in order to make the flesh become dense and brawny. This article comes to market, in rolls about two feet long, and ten inches in diameter, packed in wicker baskets." Sandys observes that " Brawn is a dish of great antiquity, and may be found in most of the old bills of fare for coronation and other great feasts." "Brawn, mustard, and malmsey, were directed for breakfast, at Christmas, during Queen Elizabeth's reign; and Dugdale, in his account of the Inner Temple Revels, of the same age, states the same directions for that society. The French," continues Sandys," do not appear to have been so well acquainted with it; for, on the capture of Calais by them, they found a large quantity, which they guessed to be some dainty, and tried every means of preparing it; in vain did they roast it, bake it, and boil it-it was impracticable and impenetrable to their culinary arts. Its merits, however, being at length discovered, 'Ha!' said the monks, 'what delightful fish!'—and immediately added it to their fast-day viands. The Jews, again, could not believe it was procured from that impure beast, the hog,and included it in their list of clean animals." Amid the interior forms to be observed, on this evening, by those who would keep their Christmas after the old orthodox fashion—the first to be noticed is that of the Yule Clog. This huge block, which, in ancient times, and consistently with the capacity of its vasi receptacle, was frequently the root of a large tree, it was the practice to introduce into the house, with great ceremony, and to the sound of music. Herrick's direction is: "Come, bring with a noise, The Christmas log to the firing; While my good dame she Bids you all be free, And drink to your heart's desiring." In Drake's "Winter Nights" mention is made of the Yule Clog, as lying, "in ponderous majesty, on the kitchen floor," until "each had sung his Yule song, standing on its centre""ere it was consigned to the flames that "Went roaring up the chimney wide." This Yule Clog, according to Herrick, was to be lighted with the brand of the last year's log-which had been carefully laid aside for the purpose; and music was to be played during the ceremony of lighting: "With the last yeere's brand Light the new block, and For good successe in his spending, On your psaltries play, That sweet luck may Come while the log is a teending." This log appears to have been considered as sanctifying the roof-tree, and was probably deemed a protection against those evil spirits over whom this season was, in every way, a triumph. Accordingly, various superstitions mingled with the prescribed ceremonials in respect of it. From the authority already quoted on this subject, we learn that its virtues were not to be extracted, unless it were lighted with clean hands—a direction, probably, including both a useful household hint to the domestics, and, it may be, a moral of a higher kind : "Wash your hands, or else the fire Unwash'd hands, ye maidens, know, |