[Illustration: Notes]
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL.--I should be glad to know whether it would be
advisable for me to write a book of "Reminiscences," as I see is now the
fashion. My life has been chiefly passed in a moorland-village in
Yorkshire, so that it has not been very eventful, and I have never
written anything before; still the public might like to hear my opinions
on things in general, and I think I could make the anecdote of how our
kitchen chimney once caught fire--which would be the most important
incident chronicled--rather thrilling. Among interesting and eminent
persons I have met, and of whom I could give some account in my
forthcoming work, are Mr. GLADSTONE (who passed through our station in a
train going at fifty miles an hour while I was on the platform), Lord
SALISBURY whom I met (under similar circumstances, and the back of whose
head I feel confident that I actually saw) and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE of
England, who ordered an Usher to remove me from his Court at the Assizes
as I was (incorrectly) alleged to be snoring. I should be glad to hear
of any leading Publisher who would be likely to offer a good price for
such a book.--RUSTICUS EXPECTANS.
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[Illustration: PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.
_The Captain._ "AT THIS STAGE OF THE PROCEEDINGS I'VE GOT TO KISS YOU,
LADY GRACE. WILL YOUR HUSBAND MIND, DO YOU THINK?"
_Lady Grace._ "OH NO! IT'S FOR A _CHARITY_, YOU KNOW!"]
* * * * *
"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"
"Christmas _is_ coming!" Pleasant truth
To all--save the dyspeptic!
To most in whom some smack of youth
Hath influence antiseptic.
Pessimists prate, and prigs be-rate
The time of mirth and holly;
But why should time-soured sages "slate"
The juvenile and jolly?
"Though some churls at our mirth repine"
(As old GEORGE WITHER put it),
We'll whiff our weed, and sip our wine,
And watch the youngsters foot it.
They did so in quaint WITHER'S time,
When wassail-bowls were humming,
And still girls laugh, and church-bells chime,
Because--"Christmas is coming!"
"Christmas is coming!" Let him bring
Mirth to the toiling million.
What is't he bears--a gracious thing--
Behind him on the pillion?
Her snowy garb, and smile benign,
Make sunshine in dark places;
The gentlest, rarest, most divine
Of all the Christian graces.
Her eyes are full of loving light,
Her hands with gifts are laden;
True Yule-tide Almoner, of right,
This _Una_-pure sweet maiden!
She smiles on all, full-feeding mirth,
Young love, mad motley mumming;
There is loss dearth of joy on earth,
Because--"Christmas is coming!"
A Merry Christmas? Round each room
That's writ in leaf and berry;
But there be those, alas! to whom
There's mockery in the "Merry."
Merry?--when sorrow loads the heart,
And nothing loads the larder?
In the world's play the poor man's part
At Yule-tide seems yet harder.
Good cheer to him who hungry goes,
And mirth to her who sorrows,
Lend bitter chill to Christmas snows.
Small joy care's bondsman borrows.
From jollity he may not share,
Despair is darkly drumming
At his dull breast, whose hearth won't flare,
Because--"Christmas is coming!"
Good Greybeard Sire, you would not tire
Gay youth with tales of trouble;
World-gladness is your heart's desire,
And so you're--riding double!
Pleasant to see dear Charity
Close pillion-poised behind you,
Eager to bid her gifts fly free,
We're happy so to find you.
Ride on, and scatter largesse wide!
Sore need is still no rarity,
For all our Progress, Power, and Pride,
We can't dispense with Charity.
Ride on, kind pair, and may the air
With happiness be humming,
And poverty shake off despair,
Because--"Christmas is coming!"
* * * * *
RATHER TOO PREMATURE.--We see "_Christmas Leaves_" advertised
everywhere in glaring colours. This announcement is too early.
"_Christmas Comes_," it should be, and then, any time after the
25th, will be appropriate for the announcement of his departure.
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