es and mixing the juice with ale or milk. This drink,
together with apples and nuts, is considered indispensable on
Christmas Eve.

England of all countries has probably known the merriest of
Yule-tides, certainly the merriest during those centuries when the
mummers of yore bade to each and all

"A merry Christmas and a happy New Year,
Your pockets full of money and your cellar full of beer."

There seems always to have been more or less anxiety felt regarding
New Year's Day in England, for "If the morning be red and dusky it
denotes a year of robberies and strife."

"If the grass grows in Janivear
It grows the worse for 't all the year."

And then very much depended upon the import of the chapter to which
one opened the Bible on this morning. If the first visitor chanced to
be a female, ill luck was sure to follow, although why it should is
not explained.

It was very desirable to obtain the "cream of the year" from the
nearest spring, and maidens sat up till after midnight to obtain the
first pitcherful of water, supposed to possess remarkable virtues.
Modern plumbing and city water-pipes have done away with the
observance of the "cream of the year," although the custom still
prevails of sitting up to see the Old Year out and the New Year in.

There was also keen anxiety felt as to how the wind blew on New Year's
Eve, for

"If New Year's Eve night wind blow South,
It betokeneth warmth and growth;
If West, much milk, and fish in the sea;
If North, much cold and storm there will be;
If East, the trees will bear much fruit;
If Northeast, flee it man and brute."

AT CHRISTMAS TIME

At Christmas time the fields are white,
And hill and valley all bedight
With snowy splendor, while on high
The black crows sail athwart the sky,
Mourning for summer days gone by
At Christmas time.

At Christmas time the air is chill,
And frozen lies the babbling rill:
While sobbingly the trees make moan
For leafy greenness once their own,
For blossoms dead and birdlings flown
At Christmas time.

At Christmas time we deck the hall
With holly branches brave and tall,
With sturdy pine and hemlock bright,
And in the Yule-log's dancing light
We tell old tales of field and fight
At Christmas time.

At Christmas time we pile the board
With flesh and fruit and vintage stored,