best they may, the heavenly choirs that hailed its rising over Judea, nearly two centuries ago. Not for the shepherds, alone, was that song! Its music was for us, as for them;—and all minstrelsy, however rude, is welcome, on this night, that gives us any echoes of it, however wild. For us, too, on the blessed day of which this vigil keeps the door, "is born, in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord;"—and we, too, amid the sacred services of to-morrow, will "go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us."

CHRISTMAS DAY.

25TH DECEMBER.

AND now has arrived the great and important day itself, which gives its title to the whole of this happy season,--and the high and blessed work of man's redemption is bogun. The pæan of universal rejoicing swells up on every side; and, after those religious exercises which are the language that man's joy should take first-the day is one of brightened spirits and general congratulation. In no way can man better express his sense of its inestimable gift, than by the condition of mind that receives gladly, and gives freely, than by mustering his worldly affections, that he may renew them in the spirit of the time. This is not

the proper place to speak more minutely of the religious sentiments and services which belong to the season, than we have already done. We may merely remark that the streets of the city, and the thousand pathways of the country are crowded, on this morning, by rich and poor, young and old, coming in on all sides -gathering from all quarters, to hear the particulars of the "glad tidings" proclaimed; and each lofty cathedral and lowly village church sends up a voice, to join the mighty chorus whose glad burthen is "Glory to God in the highest; and on earth peace, good will toward men.'

From the religious duties of the day, we must turn, at once, to its secular observances; and these we will take in the order (with reference to the progress of its hours) in which they come, -mingling the customs of modern times with those of the past, in our pages,―as, in many respects, we wish our readers would do, in practice.

On the subject of the identity of the modern plum-pudding with the ancient hackin, we are furnished with the following curious remarks, by Mr. Crofton Croker-which we think well worth submitting, for the consideration of the curious in such matters.

"The hackin,' says that amusing old tract, entitled, 'Round about our Coal Fire,' 'must be boiled by day-break, or, else, two young men must take the maiden [i. e. the cook] by the arms, and run her round the market-place, till she is ashamed of her laziness.' Brand, whose explanation Hone, in his Every-day Book, has adopted, renders hackin by 'the great sausage;' and Nares tells us, that the word means a large sort of sausage, being a part of the cheer provided for Christmas festivities,'-deriving the word from hack, to cut or chop. Agreeing in this derivation, we do not admit Nares's explanation. Hackin, literally taken, is mince-meat of any kind; but Christmas mince-meat, everybody knows, means a composition of meat and suet (hacked small), seasoned with fruit and spices. And from the passage above quoted, that 'the hackin must be boiled [i. e. boiling] by day-break,' it is obvious, the worthy archdeacon, who, as well as Brand and Hone, have explained it as a great sausage, did not see that hackin is neither more nor less than the old name for the national English dish of plum-pudding.

"We have heard first rate authorities, upon this subject, assert -the late Dr. Kitchener and Mr. Douce were amongst the number, that plum-pudding-the renowned English plum-pudding -was a dish, comparatively speaking, of modern invention: and that plum-porridge was its ancient representative. But this, for the honor of England, we never would allow,—and always fought a hard battle upon the point. Brand, indeed, devotes a section of his observations on popular antiquities to Yuledoughs, mincepies, Christmas-pies, and plum-porridge,' omitting plum-pudding, -which new Christmas dish, or rather, new name for an old Christmas dish, appears to have been introduced with the reign of the 'merry monarch,' Charles II. A revolution always creates a change in manners, fashions, tastes, and names ;-and our theory is that, among other changes, the hackin of our ancestors was then baptized plum-pudding. In Poor Robin's Almanac for 1676, it is observed of Christmas,-good cheer doth so abound

as if all the world were made of minced-pies, plum-pudding, and furmity.' And we might produce other quotations, to show that, as the name hackin fell into disuse, about this period, it was generally supplanted by that of plum-pudding."

Plum-pudding is a truly national dish; and refuses to flourish out of England. It can obtain no footing in France. A Frenchman will dress like an Englishman, swear like an Englishman, and get drunk like an Englishman; but if you would offend him for ever, compel him to eat plum-pudding. A few of the leading restaurateurs, wishing to appear extraordinary, have plomb-pooding upon their cartes; but in no instance is it ever ordered by a Frenchman. Everybody has heard the story of St. LouisHenri Quatre, or whoever else it might be-who, wishing to regale the English ambassador, on Christmas-day, with a plumpudding, procured an excellent receipt for making one; which he gave to his cook, with strict injunctions that it should be prepared with due attention to all particulars. The weight of the ingredients, the size of the copper, the quantity of water, the duration of time, everything was attended to except one trifle ;-the king forgot the cloth; and the pudding was served up, like so much soup, in immense tureens, to the surprise of the ambassador,-who was, however, too well bred to express his astonishment.

Amongst our ancestors, the duties of the day which followed first after those of religion, were the duties which immediately spring out of a religion like ours—those of charity,

"When

Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold,
Alas! then for the houseless beggar old !"—

was a sentiment of which they never allowed themselves to lose sight. Amid the preparations making for his own enjoyment, and the comforts by which he set at defiance the austerities of the season, the old English gentleman did not forget the affecting truths, so beautifully embodied in words, by Mary Howitt :

"In rich men's halls, the fire is piled,
And ermine robes keep out the weather;
In poor men's huts, the fire is low,

Through broken panes, the keen winds blow,
And old and young are cold together.

Oh! poverty is disconsolate!

Its pains are many, its foes are strong!
The rich man, in his jovial cheer,
Wishes 't was winter through the year;
The poor man, 'mid his wants profound,
With all his little children round,

Prays God that winter be not long!"

The hall, prepared for

Immediately after the service of the day, the country gentleman stood, of old, at his own gate, and superintended the distribution of alms to the aged and the destitute. the festival of himself and his friends, was previously opened to his tenants and retainers; and the good things of the season were freely dispensed to all. "There was once," says the writer of 'Round about our Coal Fire,' 9.66 hospitality in the land. An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, had all his tenants and neighbors entered his hall by day-break; the strong beer was broached, and the black-jacks went plentifully about, with toast, sugar, nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese.

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The servants were then running here and there, with merry hearts and jolly countenances. Every one was busy in welcoming of guests, and looked as snug as new-licked puppies. The lasses were as blithe and buxom as the maids in good Queen Bess's days, when they ate sirloins of roast-beef for breakfast. Peg would scuttle about to make a toast for John, while Tom run harum-scarum to draw a jug of ale for Margery."

The solemn festivals of ancient superstition were marked either by bloody sacrifice, secret revelling, or open licentiousness. There was no celebration of rites,-real or symbolical,-which might become a religion of cheerfulness, decency, and mercy. There was no medium between a mysteriousness dark and gloomy as the grave, and a wild and savage enthusiasm or riotous frenzy, which mingled with the worship of the gods the impassioned depravity of human nature. From Moloch, upon whose dreadful altar children were offered-to Bacchus, at whose shrine reason and virtue were prostrated,-there were none of the fabled deities of antiquity whose service united the spirit of devotion with inno