The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1876-12-23
CHRISTMAS.
by WASHINGTON IRVING.

But is old, old, good old Christmas gone?
Nothing but the hair of his good, gray, old
head and beard left? Well, will have
that, seeing j cannot have more of him.
Hue and Cry litter Christmas.
4 man might then behold
At Christmas, in each hall
Good fires to curb the cold,
And meat for great and small
The neighbors We're friendly hidden,
And all had welcome true,
The poor from the gates were not chidden
When this old cap was new.
Old Song.
Nothing in England exercises more de-
lightful spell over my Imagination, than
the lingerings of the holiday customs and
rural games of former times. They recall
the pictures my fancy used to draw in the
May morning of life, when as yet l only
knew the world through books, and be-
lieved it to be all that poets had painted it;
and they bring with them the flavor of
those honest days of yore, in which, per-
haps, with equal fallacy, | am apt to think
the world was more homebred, social and
joyous than at present. | regret to say
that they are daily growing more and more
faint, being gradually worn away by time,
but still more obliterated by modern fash
ion. They resemble those picturesque
norsels of Gothic architecture, which we
see crumbling in various parts of the coun-
try, partly dlapidated by the waste of
ages, and partly lost in the additions and
alterations of later days. Poetry, however,
clings with cherishing fondness about the
rural game and holiday revel, from which
it has derived SO many of it's themes-as
the ivy winds its rich foliage about the ,
Gothic arch and Wondering tower, CRATE
fully repaying their support, by clasping
together their tottering remains, and, as it
were, embalming them in verdure.
OF all the old festivals, however, that of
Christmas awakens the strongest and most
heartfelt associations. There is a tone of
solemn and sacred feeling that blends with
our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a
state of hallOwed and elevated enjoyment.
The services Of the church about this sea-
son are extremely tender and inspiring.
They dwell on the beautiful story of the
origin Of our faith, and the pastoral scenes
that accompanied its announcement. They
gradually increase in fervor and pathos
during the season of Advent, until they
break forth in full jubilee on the morning
that brought peace and good will to men.
| do not know a grander effect of music on
the moral feelings, than to hear the full
choir and the pealing organ performing a
Christmas anthem in "A cathedral, and fill
ing every part of the vast pile with tri-
umphant harmony.
1t is beautiful arrangement, also, de-
rived from days of yore, that this festival,
which commentaries the announcement of
the religion of peace and love, has been
made the season for gathering together of
family connections, and drawing closer
again those bands of kindred hearts, which
the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the
world are continually operating to cast
loose; of calling back the children of a
family, who have launched forth in life,
and wandered widely asunder, once more
to assemble about tie paternal hearth, that
rallying place of the affections, there to
grow young and loving again among the
endearing mementos of childhood.
There is something in the very season of
the year that gives charm to the festivity
of Christmas. At other times we derive a
great portion of our pleasures from the
mere beauties of nature. Oar feelings
sally forth and disSipate themselves over
the sunny landscape, and we "lve abroad
and everywhere" The song of the bird,
the murmur of the stream, the breathing
fragrance of Spring, the soft voluptuous-
ness of Summer, the golden pomp of Au-
tumn: earth with its mantle of refreshing
green, and heaven with its deep delicious
blue and its cloudy magnificence, all fill us
with mute but exquisite delight, and we
revel in the luxury of mere sensation. But
in the depth of Winter when nature lies
despoiled of every charm, and wrapped in
her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for
our qualifications to moral sources The
dreariness and desolation of the lands ape,
the short gloomy days and darksome nights,
while they circumscribe our wanderinss,
shut in our feelings also from rambling
abroad, and make us more keenly disposed
for the pleasure of the social circle. Our
thoughts are more concentrated; our friend
ly sympathies more aroused. We feel
more sensibly the charm of each others
society, and are brought more closely to-
gether by dependence on each other for
enjoyment Heart calleth unto heart: and
VIC draw our pleasures from the deep wells
of loving kindness, which lie in the quiet
recesses Of our bosoms; and which, when
resorted to, furnish forth the pure element
of domestic felicity.
The pitchy gloom without makes the
heart dilate on entering the room filled
with the glow and warmth of the evening
fire. The ruddy blaze diifuses an artificial
summer and sunshine through the room,
and lights up each couutenance in a kind
iier welcome. Where does the honest face
CONTINUED on FOURTH FACE.