nd gracious deeds
Resemble him more and more!

_December 21, 1850._

WASSAILING THE APPLE-TREES.

Writing on this subject, in the _Antiquary_, March, 1895, Mr. Harry
Hems, of Exeter, introduces the reduced copy of an illustration which
appears on the following page, and which he states was published in
the _Illustrated London News_, January 11, 1851.

The picture (says Mr. Hems) "presents, as will be seen, a frosty,
moonlight night, with a brilliantly-lit old farmhouse in the
background. In the fore are leafless fruit-trees, and three men firing
guns at them, whilst the jovial farmer and another man drink success
to the year's crop from glasses evidently filled from a jug of cider,
which the latter also holds a-high. A crowd of peasants--men, women
and children--are gathered around, and the following description is
appended:--

"'Amongst the scenes of jocund hospitality in this holiday season,
that are handed down to us, is one which not only presents an
enlivening picture, but offers proof of the superstition that still
prevails in the Western counties. On Twelfth-even, in Devonshire, it
is customary for the farmer to leave his warm fireside, accompanied by
a band of rustics, with guns, blunderbusses, &c., presenting an
appearance which at other times would be somewhat alarming. Thus
armed, the band proceeds to an adjoining orchard, where is selected
one of the most fruitful and aged of the apple-trees, grouping round
which they stand and offer up their invocations in the following
quaint doggerel rhyme:--

"'Here's to thee,
Old apple-tree!
Whence thou mayst bud,
And whence thou mayst blow,
And whence thou mayst bear
Apples enow:
Hats full,
Caps full,
Bushels, bushels, sacks full,
And my pockets full too!
Huzza! huzza!'"

[Illustration: WASSAILING THE APPLE-TREES IN DEVONSHIRE.]

The cider-jug is then passed round, and, with many a hearty shout, the
party fire off their guns, charged with powder only, amidst the
branches, sometimes frightening the owl from its midnight haunt. With
confident hopes they return to the farmhouse, and are refused
admittance, in spite of all weather, till some lucky wight guesses
aright the peculiar roast the maidens are preparing for their comfort.
This done, all enter, and soon right merrily the jovial glass goes
round, that man who gained admittance receiving the honour of King for
the evening, and till a late hour he rei