"Please you, sir, I've got so much I don't know where to put it-so, in course, I put it here." "Then," said the Doctor, with a smile, looking round the church, "let John get up and put some of it in those old hatchments; ents; and," looking up at the clerk, busy at work in the pulpit, "don't put quite so much up there in my candlesticks." With this the parson and the squire took their departure. As they passed slowly up the village, which already wore a sort of holiday aspect, they met on all hands with a cordial and respectful greeting. The quiet little public-house turned out some four or five stout fellows all tenants of his with their pipes in their hands, and who took off their hats, and bowed very low. Mr Aubrey went up and entered into conversation with them for some minutes their families and farms, he found, were well and thriving. There was quite a little crowd of women about the shop of Nick Steele, the butcher, who, with an extra hand to help him, was giving out the second ox which had been sent from the hall, to the persons whose names had been given in to him from Mrs Aubrey. Further on, some were cleaning their little windows, others sweeping their floors, and sprinkling sand over them; most were sticking holly and mistletoe in their windows, and over their mantel-pieces. Every where, in short, was to be seen that air of quiet preparation for the cheerful morrow, which fills a thoughtful observer with feelings of pensive but exquisite satisfaction. Mr Aubrey returned home towards dusk, cheered and enlivened by his NO. CCXCIII, VOL. XLVII, Y walk. His sudden plunge into the simplicity and comparative solitude of country life-and that country Yatton -had quite refreshed his feelings, and given a tone to his spirits. Of course, Dr Tatham was to dine at the hall on the morrow; if he did not, indeed, it would have been for the first time during the last five-and-twenty years. Christmas eve passed pleasantly and quietly enough at the hall. After dinner the merry little ones were introduced, and their prattle and romps occupied an hour right joyously. As soon as, smothered with kisses, they had been dismissed to bed, old Mrs Aubrey composed herself in her great chair to her usual after-dinner's nap; while her son, his wife, and sister, sitting fronting the fire-a decanter or two, and a few wine-glasses, and dessert remaining on the table behind themsat conversing in a subdued tone, now listening to the wind roaring in the chimney-a sound which not a little enhanced their sense of comfort-then criticising the disposition of the evergreens with which the room was plenteously decorated, and laying out their movements during the ensuing fortnight. Mrs Aubrey and Kate were, with af. fectionate earnestness, contrasting to Aubrey the peaceful pleasures of a country life with the restless excitement and endless anxieties of a London political life, to which they saw him more and more addicting himself; he all the while playfully parrying their attacks, but secretly acknowledging the truth and force of what they said, when-hark!-a novel sound from without which roused the old lady from her nap. What do you think, dear reader, it was? The voices of little girls singing what seemed to be a Christmas hymn: yes, they caught the words "Hark! the herald-angels sing, "It must be your little school-girls," said old Mrs Aubrey, looking at her daughter, and listening. "I do believe it is," quoth Kate, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, as she sat eagerly inclining her ear towards the window. "They must be standing on the grass-plot just before the window," said Mr Aubrey: the tiny voices were thrilling his very heart within him. His sensitive nature might be compared to a delicate Æolian harp, which 2 c gave forth, with the slightest breath of accident or circumstance, "The still, sad music of humanity." In a few moments he was almost in tears the sounds were so unlike the fierce and turbulent cries of political warfare to which his ears had been latterly accustomed! The more the poor children sung, the more was he affected. Kate's tears fell fast, for she had been in an excited mood before this little incident occurred. "Do you hear, mamma," said she, "the voice of the poor little thing that was last taken into the school? The little darling!" Kate tried to smile away her emotion; but 'twas in vain. Mr Aubrey gently drew aside the curtain, and pulled up the central blind--and there, headed by their matron, stood the little singers exposed to view, some eighteen in number, ranged in a row on the grass, their white dresses glistening in the moonlight. The oldest seemed not more than ten or twelve years old, while the younger ones could not be more than five or six. They seemed all singing from their very hearts. Aubrey stood looking at them with very deep interest. As soon as they had finished their hymn, they were conducted into the housekeeper's room, according to orders sent for that purpose from Mrs Aubrey, and each of them received a little present of money, besides a full glass of Mrs Jackson's choicest raisin wine, and a currant bun; Kateslipping half-a-guinea into the hand of their mistress, to whose wish to afford gratification to the inmates of the hall, was entirely owing the little incident which had so pleased and surprised them. "A happy Christmas to you, dear papa and mamma!" said little Aubrey, about eight o'clock the next morning, pushing aside the curtains, and clambering up on the high bed where Mr and Mrs Aubrey were still asleep-soon, however, they were awoke by the welcome sound. The morning promised a beautifulday. The air, though cold, was clear; and the branches of the trees visible from their windows, were all covered with hoarfrost, which seemed to line them as if with silver fringe. The little bells of Yatton church were ringing a merry peal; but, how different in tone and strength from the clangour of the London church-bells! Christmas was indeed at last arrived and cheerful were the greetings of those who soon after met at the bountiful breakfast table. Old Mrs Aubrey was going to church with them in fact, not even a domestic was to be left at home that could possibly be spared. By the time that the carriage, with the fat and lazy-looking grey horses, was at the hall door, the sun had burst out in beauty from an almost cloudless sky. The three ladies rode alone; Aubrey preferring to walk, accompanied by his little son, as the ground was dry and hard, and the distance very short. A troop of some twelve or fourteen servants, male and female, presently followed, and then came Mr Aubrey, leading along the heir of Yatton-a boy of whom he might well be proud, as the future possessor of his name, his fortune, and his honours. When he had reached the church, the carriage was returning home. Almost the whole congregation stood collected before the church door, to see the Squire's family enter; and reverent were the curtsies and bows with which old Mrs Aubrey and her lovely companions were received. Very soon after they had taken their places, Mr Aubrey and his son made their appearance; objects they were of the deepest interest, as they passed along to their pew. A few minutes after, little Dr Tatham entered the church in his surplice, (which he almost always put on at home,) with a face, serious to be sure, but yet overspread with an expression even more bland and benignant than usual. He knew there was not a soul among the little crowd around him that did not really love him, and that did not know how heartily he returned their love. All eyes were of course on the Squire's pew. Mrs Aubrey was looking well-her daughter and daughter-in-law were thought by all to be by far the most beautiful women in the world-what must people think of them in London? Mr Aubrey looked, they thought, pleased and happy, but rather paler, and even a little thinner; and as for the little Squire, with his bright eyes, his rosy cheeks, his arch smile, his curling auburn hair-he was the pride of Yatton! Dr Tatham read prayers, as he always did, with great distinctness and deliberation, so that every body in the church, young and old, could catch every syllable; and he preached, considerately enough, a very short sermon pithy, homely, and affectionate. He reminded them that he was then preaching his thirty-first Christmas-day sermon from that pulpit. The service over, none of the congregation moved from their places till the occupants of the Squire's pew had quitted it; but as soon as they had got outside of the door, the good people poured out after them, and almost lined the way from the church door to the gate at which the carriage stood, receiving and answering a hundred kind enquiries con cerning themselves, their families, and their circumstances. Mr Aubrey stayed behind, desirous of taking another little ramble with Dr Tatham through the village, for the day was indeed bright and beautiful, and the occasion inspiriting. There was not a villager within four or five miles of the hall who did not sit down that day to a comfortable little relish ing dinner, at least one-third of them being indebted for it directly to the bounty of the Aubreys. As soon as Dr Tatham had taken off his gown, he accompanied Mr Aubrey in cheerful mood, in the briskest spirits. ''Twas delightful to see the smoke come curl. ing out of every chimney, scarce any one visible, suggesting to you that they were all housed, and preparing for, or partaking of their roast-beef and plumpudding. Now and then the bustling wife would show her heated red face at the door, and hastily curtsy as they passed, then returning to dish up her little dinner. "Ah, ha! Mr Aubrey! isn't such a day as this worth a whole year in town?" exclaimed Dr Tatham. "Both have their peculiar influences, Doctor; the pleasure of the contrast would be lost if" "Contrast? Believe me, in the language of Virgil "Ah! how goes on old blind Bess, Doctor?" interrupted Aubrey, as they approached the smallest cottage in the village in fact, the very last. "She's just the same as she has been these last twenty years. Shall we look in on the old creature?" "With all my heart. I hope, poor soul! that she has not been overlooked on this festive occasion." "Trust Mrs Aubrey for that! I'll answer for it, we shall find old Bess as happy, in her way, as she can be." This was a stone-blind old woman, who had been bedridden for the last twenty years. She had certainly pass ed her hundredth year-some said two or three years before-and had lived in her present little cottage for nearly half a century, having grown out of the recollection of almost all the inhabitants of the village. She had long been a pensioner of Mrs Aubrey's, by whom alone, indeed, she was supported. Her great age, her singular appearance, and a certain rambling way of talking that she had, earned her the reputation in the village of being able to say strange things; and one or two of the old gossips knew of things coming to pass according to what-poor old soul-she had predicted! Dr Tatham gently pushed open the door. The cottage consisted, in fact, of but one room, and that a very small one, and lit by only one little window. The floor was clean, and evidently just fresh sanded. On a wooden stool, opposite a fireplace, on which a small saucepan pot was placed, sat a girl about twelve years old, (a daughter of the woman who lived nearest,) crumbling some bread into a basin, with some broth in it. On a narrow bed against the wall, opposite the window, was to be seen the somewhat remarkable figure of the solitary old tenant of the cottage. She was sitting up, resting against the pillow, which was placed on end against the wall. She was evidently a very tall woman; and her long, brown, wrinkled, shrivelled face, with prominent cheekbones and bushy white eyebrows, betokened the possession, in earlier days, of a most masculine expression of features. Her hair, white as snow, was gathered back from her forehead, under a spreading plain white cap; and her sightless eyes, wide open, stared forward with a startling and somewhat sinister expression. She was wrapped round in a clean white bedgown; and her long thin arms lay straight before her on the outside of the bed-clothes. Her lips were moving, as if she were talking to herself. "She's a strange-looking object, indeed!" exclaimed Mr Aubrey, as he and Dr Tatham stood watching her for a few moments in silence. "Dame! dame!" said the Doctor, loudly, approaching her bedside, "How are you to-day? It's Christmas day-I wish you a merry Christmas." "Ay, ay-merry, merry! More the merrier! I've seen a hundred and nine of them!" " You seem very happy, dame." "They won't give me my brothmy broth." "It's coming, granny," called out the shrill voice of the girl sitting before the fire, quickening her motions. "Here's the Squire come to see you, dame, and he wishes you a happy Christmas," said Dr Tatham. "What! the Squire? Alive yet? Ah, well-a-day! well-a-day!" said she, in a feeble, mournful tone, slowly rubbing together her long, skinny, wrinkled hands, on the backs of which the veins stood out like knotted whipcord. She repeated the last words several times, in a truly doleful tone, gently shaking her head. " Granny's been very sad, sir, today, and cried two or three times," said the little girl, stirring about the hot broth. "Poor Squire! doth he not look sad?" enquired the old woman. "Why should I, dame? What have I to fear?" said Mr Aubrey. "Merry in the hall! all, merry! merry! But no one has heard it but old blind Bess. Where's the Squire?" she added, suddenly turning her face full towards where they were standing -and it seemed whitened with emotion. Her staring eyes were settled on Mr Aubrey's face, as if she were reading his very soul. "Here I am, dame," said he, with a great deal of curiosity, to say the least of it. "Give me your hand, Squire," said she, stretching out her left arm, and working about her talon-like fingers, as if in eagerness to grasp Mr Aubrey's hand, which he gave her. "Never fear! never, never! Happy in the hall! I see all! How long". "Why, dame, this is truly a very pleasant grecting of yours," interposed Dr Tatham, with a smile. "Short and bitter! long and sweet! Put your trust in God, Squire." "I hope I do, granny," replied Mr Aubrey seriously. "I see! I hear! - my broth! my broth! where is it?" " Here it is, granny," said the girl. "Good-day, dame," said Mr Aubrey, gently disengaging his hand from hers; and before they had left the cottage she began to swallow very greedily the broth with which the little girl fed her. "This is the sort of way in which this old superannuated creature has frightened one or two of" "Is it indeed?" enquired Mr Aubrey, with a sort of mechanical smile. Dr Tatham saw that he was in a very serious humour. "She's alarmed you, I protest!I protest she has!" exclaimed the Doctor, with a smile, as they walked along. Now he knew the disposition and character of Aubrey intimately; and was well aware of a certain tendency he had to superstition. "My dear Doctor, I assure you that you are mistaken-I am indeed not alarmed but at the same time I will tell you something not a little singu. lar. Would you believe that a month or two ago, when in town, I dreamed that I heard some one uttering the very words this old woman has just been uttering!" "Ah! ha, ha!" laughed the Doctor; and, after a second or two's pause, Aubrey, as if ashamed of what he had said, echoed the laugh, and their conversation passed on to political topics, which kept them engaged for the remainder of their walk, Mr Aubrey quitting his companion at the door of the vicarage, to be rejoined by him at five o'clock, the dinner hour at the hall. As Mr Aubrey walked along the park, the shades of evening casting a deepening gloom around him, his thoughts involuntarily recurred to the cottage of old blind Bess, and he felt vague apprehensions flitting with darkening shade across his mind. Though he was hardly weak enough to attach any definite meaning or importance to the gibberish he had heard, it still had left an unpleasant impression, and he was vexed at feeling a wish that the incident-trifling as he was willing to believe it-should not be mentioned by Dr Tatham at the hall; and still more, on recollect ing that he had purposely abstained from requesting the good Doctor not to do so. All this implied that the matter had occupied his thoughts to a greater extent than he secretly relished. On reaching, however, the hall door, this brief pressure on his feelings quickly ceased; for on entering he saw Mrs Aubrey, his sister, and his two children at high romps together in the hall, and he heartily joined in them. By five o'clock the little party were seated at the cheerful dinner-table, covered with the glittering old family plate, and that kind of fare, at once substantial and luxurious, which befitted the occasion. Old Mrs Aubrey, in her simple white turban and black velvet dress, presided with a kind of dignified cheerfulness which was delightful to see. Kate had contrived to make herself look more lovely even than usual, wearing a dress of dark blue satin, tastefully trimmed with blonde, and which exquisitely comported with her lovely complexion. Oh that Delamere had been sitting opposite to, or beside her! The more matured proportions of her blooming sister-inlaw appeared to infinite advantage in a rich green velvet dress, while a superb diamond glistened with subdued lustre in her beautiful bosom. She wore no ornaments in her dark hair, which was, as indeed might be said of Kate, "when unadorned, adorned the most." The greyheaded old butler, as brisk as his choicest champagne, with which he perpetually bustled round the table, and the three steadylooking old family servants, going about their business with quiet celerity-the delicious air of antique elegance around them, this was a Christmas dinner after one's own heart! Oh the merry and dear old Yatton! And as if there were not loveliness enough already in the room, behold the door suddenly pushed open as soon as the dinner is over, and run up to his gay and laughing mother, her little son, his ample snowy collar resting gracefully on his crimson velvet dress. 'Tis her hope and prideher first-born-the little squire; but where is his sister?-where is Agnes? 'Tis even as Charles says-she fell asleep in the very act of being dressed, and they were obliged to put her to bed; so Charles is alone in his glory. You may well fold your delicate white arm around him, mamma. His little gold cup is nearly filled to join in the first toast: are you all ready? The worthy Doctor has poured Mrs Aubrey's glass, and Kate's glass, full up to the brim :- " Our next Christmas!" Yes, your next Christmas! The vigi. lant eye of Dr Tatham alone perceived a faint change of colour in Mr Aubrey's cheek as the words were uttered; and his eye wandered for an instant, as if tracing across the room the image of old blind Bess; but 'twas gone in a moment-Aubrey was soon in much higher spirits than usual. Well he might be. How could man be placed in happier circumstances a than he was? As soon as the ladies had withdrawn, together with little Aubrey, the Doctor and Mr Aubrey drew their chairs before the fire, and enjoyed a long hour's pleasant chat on matters domestic and political. As to the latter, the parson and the Squire were stout Tories; and speech which Aubrey had lately delivered in the House, on the Catholic claims, raised him to a pitch of eminence in the parson's estimation, when he had very few men in the country to keep him company. The Doctor here got on very fast indeed; and was just assuring the Squire that he saw dark days in store for Old England from the machinations of the Papists; and that, for his part, he should rejoice to "seal his testimony with his blood," and would go to the stake not only without flinching, but rejoicing-(all which I verily believe he verily believed he would have done,)-and coveting the crown of martyrdom, when Aubrey caught the sounds of his sister playing on the organ, a noble instrument, which a year or two before, at her urgent request, he had purchased and placed in the drawing-room, whither he and the Doctor at once repaired. 'Twas a spacious and lofty room, well calculated for the splendid instrument which occupied the large recess fronting the door. Miss Aubrey was playing Handel, and with an exquisite perception of his matchless power and beauty. Hark! did you ever hear the grand yet simple recitative she is now commencing? "In the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the East, to Jerusalem, "Saying-Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the East, and are come to wor ship him." The Doctor officiated as chaplain that evening. The room was almost filled with servants, many of whose looks very plainly showed the merry doings that had been going on in the servants' hall; some of them could scarce keep their eyes open; one or two sat winking at each other, and so forth. Under the circumstances, therefore, the Doctor, with muchjudgment, read very short prayers, and immediately after took his departure. The next morning, which proved as fine as the preceding, Mr Aubrey was |