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A MOAN OF MERRY CHRISTMAS.

(_By Our Own Dismal Dyspeptic._)

Oh, Christmas is a season when this melancholy earth
Has to put on the appearance of ungovernable mirth--
When you substitute a chuckle for your ordinary sigh,
And you give each other presents that you can't afford to buy--
When the little boys with snowballs are so shockingly unkind,
And improve on the occasion to attack you from behind--
When the mistletoe its terrors at the bashful person hurls,
And you have to kiss a number of unpleasant-looking girls!

Oh, Christmas is a season when the children make a row,
And you have to bear it patiently--although you don't know how--
When they will not let you slumber in your comfortable chair,
But crawl and tumble over you and ruffle up your hair--
When TOM and DICK are home from school with all their nasty tricks,
And have terrific combats with a pair of single-sticks--
When Auntie comes to stay with us, and always takes their parts.
And you smile a sickly smile, and murmur, "_Bless_ their little hearts!"

Oh, Christmas is a season when the beef is very fat,
(And it turns me topsy-turvey at the simple thought of that!)--
When it seems as if your relatives could never eat enough,
And you have to look contented as you sit and watch them stuff--
When they give you Christmas pudding, and consider it a treat,
Though they know that you are feeling far too bilious to eat--
When the very house reverberates with tradesmen's constant knocks,
As they call in quick succession to demand a Christmas-box!

Oh, Christmas is a season, when I long to sit alone,
In some clean and quiet garret, I can really call my own;
Where no Christmas Cards can reach me with their idiotic rhymes--
Where I never hear of HARRIS, and his splendid Pantomimes.
Where the turkey and the goose would feel distinctly out of place,
Where no pallid pie of mincemeat, dares to look me in the face;
Where I don't see coloured plates from Christmas Numbers on the wall,
Where, in fact, I can forget that it is Christmas-time at all!

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Illustration: A REMINISCENCE.

_Aunt Molly_ (_on hospitable thoughts intent_). "YOU SHALL HAVE _THIS_
BEDROOM, MIKE--THE SAME THAT YOU HAD LAST CHRISTMAS!"

_Mike._ "OH, NOT _THAT_ BEDROOM, AUNT MOLLY!--IT'S CHOKE FULL OF
_DREAMS_!"

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THE FRENCH "SERPENTINE DA