Yet dark days come upon us-the dark days before Christmas, as they are called-when the heavens are leaden, the earth iron, the fields clay and mud; and after these comes the glorious advent of light, of truth, of goodness, and of joy. The festival in memory of that great birthday, which was proclaimed "with glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men;" and for this men ought to rejoice with exceeding joy, and they do rejoice.

As to our ancestors, they kept it with such a round of merriment as would startle us in these sober days. They not only ran Christmas Day, Twelfth Day, and New Year's Day, all into one, but kept the wassail-bowl floating the whole while, and earned their right to enjoy it by all sorts of active pastimes. The wassail-bowl is a composition of spiced wine and ale, with roasted apples sometimes put into it, and sometimes eggs. They also adorned their houses with green boughs; box succeeding at Candlemas to the holly bay misletoe of Christmas. The whole nation were in as happy a ferment at Christmas, with the warmth of exercise and their firesides, as they were in May with the new sunshine. The peasants wrestled and sported on the town green and told tales of an evening; the gentry feasted then, or had music and other elegant pastimes; the Court had the poetical and princely entertainment of masques; and all sang, danced, revelled, and enjoyed themselves, and so welcomed the new year like happy and grateful subjects of Nature.

Oh! the comforts of Christmas; Peter Parley delights to think of them. Picture to yourselves, my youngsters, one of those blustering nights, when a tremendous gale from the south-west, with rattling rain, threatened almost the demolition of everything in its way; but add to the scene the inside of a snug and secure cottage in the

country; the door closed, the fire made up and blazing, the curtains drawn over a barricading of window shutters which defy the penetration of Æolus and all his execrated host, the table set for tea, and the hissing urn or kettle scarce heard among the fierce whistling, howling, and roaring, produced alternately, or together, by almost every species of sound that the wind can produce in the chimnies and door crannies of the house. There is a feeling of comfort and a sensibility to the blessings of a good roof over one's head and a warm and comfortable hearth, while all is tempest without, that produces a cheerful but real source of pleasure. A cheerful but quiet party adds in no small degree to this pleasure; and the company of "Sir John," the true type of an old English gentleman, or of "Mr. S.," the personification of English liberty, who has been called the Hampden of Hammersmith, will make old Peter Parley feel young again. And we can sit up over a good fire to a late hour and interchange our thoughts on a thousand subjects of mystery; the stories of ghosts and the tales of olden times beguile the stormy hours with more satisfaction than they could on a midsummer evening, under the shade of the roses and lillies, willows and sumach trees, in the paradise of College House. And then when we retire into our snug beds, with the curtains of the windows (not of the beds, mind) closely drawn, how sweet a lullaby is the piping of the gale down the flues and the peppering of the rain on the tiles and windows, while we are now and then rocked in the house as in a cradle.

Christmas is the time, also, when in many parts of the "Country of England," a person of great note, formerly in every populous place, was accustomed to make frequent nocturnal rambles, and to

proclaim all tidings which it seemed fitting to him that people should be awakened out of their sleep to hearken to. This was the bellman, who very properly reminds us of the season, of our obligations to it, and especially of our obligations to himself. Poor old Peter Parley would now do the same, and here publishes a copy of Christmas verses to let all his young friends know that he has published an Intellectual Reading Book, and hopes they will "remember" him.

Old Christmas.

OLD Christmas is a "wight of worth," a " ryhte goode " hearted fellow,
Full of quaint sports, of playful pranks, and feelings ripe and mellow;
For when the days are dark and dim, and all things dull and drear,
He cometh, like some faithful friend, to bring us happy cheer.

He looketh hale in his green age, hath sunshine in his smile,
With rosy dimples in his cheeks, and heart devoid of guile;
His merry wrinkles twinkling out, all hearts are sure to win,
And young and old rush to the door, and joy to let him in.

With holly boughs and berries red he gladdeneth our eyes,
And gladdeneth our stomachs, too, with puddings and mince pies;
With Baron Beef and brave Sirloin, with turkey, goose, and chine,
With good old ale, old customs, too, old friendships, and old wine.
And now he sits him down in state within his old arm chair,
While children and grandchildren all will cluster round him there;
He piles the huge "yule log" on high, and makes a blazing fire,
And cries, "Good cheer and welcome all," like an old English squire.
He playeth with the children, too, and joineth "Blindman's buff,”
And rompeth like a boy again, and getteth many a cuff;
Before the crackling log he sits and roasts the chestnuts brown,

And scrambles up the snap-dragons, and sups the "lambs'-wool" down.

He mindeth not a peppering of "snowballs" in the cold,
Nor yet a bump upon the ice, although he may be old;

And though "Jack Frost" in spiteful sport may take him by the nose
He still laughs right good-humouredly at pinchings, bumps, and blows.

And he can sing a good old song of battle-axe and lance,
Can tell a good old story, too, and dance a good old dance;
And while around in merry mood the "Wassail bowl" doth go
He never fails to steal a kiss beneath the "Misletoe."

Sometimes he buttons up his coat, and, when the snow lies high
And wintry winds blow savagely from out a stormy sky,

He takes his walk of Charity and goes from door to door,
And, good old Christian as he is, Remembereth the Poor.

For oh! he never can forget, in all his gayest mirth,
The Lord who brought "good-will to man
" and gave him peace on earth;
And while the gladsome song of joy his cheerful heart doth raise,
With gratitude for blessings past, he giveth God the praise.
Then joy to merry CHRISTMAS! and many may we spend,
Surrounded still by kith and kin, by neighbour and by friend;
Let us sing a song of FAITH and HOPE, nor thanklessly repine
While one above can turn in love life's waters into wine.

ETER PARLEY made a very interesting visit the other day to the works of the Gutta Percha Company, Wharf Road, City Road, and was so much pleased with what he saw at that establishment that he purposes to say a few words upon this useful article of manufacture.

It is but a very few years since gutta percha was discovered, yet in an exceedingly short space of time this extraordinary article has come into such a variety of uses as to make the history of its manufacture and of its applications rank among the marvellous. It is now applied extensively in a great many departments of trade, and is rapidly coming into domestic use; and as time proceeds it will doubtless be applied to purposes of comfort and convenience of which we have now not the slightest idea.