_For the Table Book._
“Almack’s” may be charming,--an assembly at the “Crown and Anchor,” and
a hop of country quality at the annual “Race Ball,” or a more popular
“set to” at a fashionable watering-place, may delight--but a lady of
city or town cannot conceive the emotions enjoyed by a party collected
in the village to see the “old year” out and the “new year” in. At this
time, the “country dance” is of the first importance to the young and
old, yet not till the week has been occupied by abundant provisions of
meat, fruit tarts, and mince pies, which, with made wines, ales, and
spirits, are, like the blocks for fuel, piled in store for all
partakers, gentle and simple. Extra best beds, stabling, and hay, are
made ready,--fine celery dug,--the china service and pewter plates
examined,--in short, want and wish are anticipated, nothing is omitted,
but every effort used to give proofs of genuine hospitality. This year,
if there is to be war in Portugal, many widowed hearts and orphan
spirits may be diverted from, not to, a scene which is witnessed in
places where peace and plenty abound. However, I will not be at war by
conjecture, but suppose much of the milk of human kindness to be shared
with those who look at the sunny side of things.
After tea, at which the civilities of the most gallant of the young
assist to lighten the task of the hostess, the fiddler is announced, the
“country dance” begins, and the lasses are all alive; their eyes seem
lustrous and their animal spirits rise to the zero of harmonious and
beautiful attraction. The choosing of partners and tunes with favourite
figures is highly considered. Old folks who have a leg left and are
desirous of repeating the step (though not so light) of fifty years
back, join the dance; and the floor, whether of stone or wood, is swept
to notes till feet are tired. This is pursued till suppertime at ten
o’clock. Meantime, the “band” (called “waits” in London) is playing
before the doors of the great neighbours, and regaled with beer, and
chine, and pies; the village “college youths” are tuning the handbells,
and the admirers of the “steeple chase” loiter about the church-yard to
hear the clock strike twelve, and startle the air by high mettle sounds.
Methodist and Moravian dissenters assemble at their places of worship to
watch out the old year, and continue to “watch” till four or five in the
new year’s morning. Villagers, otherwise disposed, follow the church
plan, and commemorate the vigils in the old unreformed way. After a
sumptuous supper,--at which some maiden’s heart is endangered by the
roguish eye, or the salute and squeeze by stealth, dancing is resumed,
and, according to custom, a change of partners takes place, often to the
joy and disappointment of love and lovers. At every rest--the fiddler
makes a squeaking of the strings--this is called _kiss ’em!_ a practice
well understood by the _tulip_ fanciers. The pipes, tobacco, and
substantials are on the _qui vive_, by the elders in another part of the
house, and the pint goes often to the cellar.
As the clock strikes a quarter to twelve, a bumper is given to the “old
friend,” standing, with three farewells! and while the church bells
strike out the departure of his existence, another bumper is pledged to
the “new infant,” with three standing hip, hip, hip--huzzas! It is
further customary for the dance to continue all this time, that the
union of the years should be cemented by friendly intercourse. Feasting
and merriment are carried on until four or five o’clock, when, as the
works of the kitchen have not been relaxed, a pile of sugar toast is
prepared, and every guest must partake of its sweetness, and praise it
too, before separation. Headaches, lassitude, and paleness, are thought
little of, pleasure suppresses the sigh, and the spirit of joy keeps the
undulations of care in proper subjection--Happy times these!--Joyful
opportunities borrowed out of youth to be repaid by ripened
memory!--snatched, as it were, from the wings of Time to be written on
his brow with wrinkles hereafter.