The Express.
London, England, 1851-12-26 00:00:00

the plaint of somebody, who mid I owed him seine money.
Now, an appearante out lieen enieta!, end '
had gone by default, and execution had been obtained
against me. The sheriff of Middlesex (who is popularly,
though erroneously, supposed to be incessantly running up
and down in Li, bailiwick) had had a writ offierifacias,
vulgarly termed aft. fi. against my guilds ; but heanng, or
satisfying himself by adroit espionage, that I hail no goods,
he had made a return of India bona. Then had he invoked
the aid of a more subtle and potential instrument, likewise
on parchment, called a twins ad satistaeienduen' abbrevi-
ated in legal parlance into ca. sa., against mybodyThis
writ he had confided to Aminadab, his man; and Amine-
dab, running, as he was in duty hound to do, up and down
in his section of the bailiwick, had come across me, and had
made me the captive of his bow and spear. lie called it,
less metaphorically, " nabbing me."
Mr. Aminadab (tall, aquiline-nosed, oleaginous, some-
what dirty; clad in a green Newmarket coat, a crimson
velvet waistcoat, a purple satin neckcloth with gold flowers,
two watch-guards, and four diamond rings)—Mr. Amino.
dab proposed that " something should be done." Would I
go to Whitecross-strett at once? or to lll.wmau's, in Cut
sitar-street ? or would I just step into Pecle's coffee-house
for a moment? Mr. Aminadab was perfectly polite, and
indefatigably suggestive.
The capture had been made in Fleet-street ; so we stepped
into Peek's, and while Mr. Aminadab sipped the pint of
wine which he had obligingly suggested 1 should order, I
began to look my position in the face. Execution taken out
for forty-five pounds nine and nine-pence. Ca. sa., a guin, a ;
ft. fa., a guinea; capture, a guinea; those were all the costs
as yet. Now, twine days alter I was see red with the writ, I
had paid the plaintiff's lawyer, ou account, thirty pounds.
In the innocence of my heart, I imagined that, by the
County Court Act, I could not be arrested for the balance,
it being under twenty pounds. Mr. Aminadab laughed
pith contemptuous pity.
"We don't do business that way," said he ; " we goes iu
for the whole lot, and then you pleads your set-off, you
know."
The Christmas of every sort and condition of man-
kind is depicted in this rattling, amusing extra num-
ber of " Household Words." Its proper title would
have been, " What Christmas is to Everybody-.
To enliven and cheer the winter season with
thoughts and reccllections of the flowers of summer,
is au expedient as old as poetry itself. Hence we
find flower books bursting into bloom at Christmas
with alinost as much vigour as flower-beds open
their treasures in summer. We have only
room to remark on two of the species,—
" The Floral Months of England,"' has for its motto:
Were I, 0 G. 1,1, in ehurelite..s lands remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers and divines;
My soul would had, in flowers of thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons' shrines :
and gives a pictorial kalendar of the most beautiful
flowers peculiar to each month. " Floral l'oems"t
peoples the petals and leaves and stems of the various
flowers, with human figures, each, by its attitude
and expression, illustrating a story told in verse.
The idea is not happy ; neither is its execution.
Of the broader sources of amusement Mr. Robert
B. Brough, of theatrical burlesque fame, supplies a
very good specimen.l It professes to consist of
Christmas pieces for private representation, and
other seasonable matter, in prose and verse. In the
first page an effigy of the drawing-room stage mana-
ger appears before the (window) curtain to explain
how the little dramas may be performed in the bay
of a window for a stage, and a few candles placed on
the carpet for foot-lights. "King Alfred and the
Cakes," • William Tell," and " Orpheus and Euri-
dice," are the plays, and could be acted quite as well
as charades in any private family where a taste for
the drama exists.

A merry Christmas without " Punch" is impos-
sible ; nor could the cycle of the seasons ever revolve
harmoniously and pleasantly, if the end of each year
did not bring Punch's Almanack.§ This year, both
in literature and art, he is pre-eminent.
" After me." said Metternich, " finis." So say we
of Paneh. Having referred our renders to him we
conclude. Nothing we can say could be so well cal-
culated as Mr. Punch and his Almanack to ensure our
readers " a merry Christmas and a happy new year."

"The Floral Months of England." Ackermanu and Co.
t " Floral Poem," with pictures in the flowers. The
poetry by F. W. N. Dailey, Esq. Ackermann and Co.
" A Cracker of Bonbon for Christmas Parties." David
Bugue, Fleet-street.
§ " Punch's Almanack for 1812." Bradbury and Evans.