hobby of mine host; yet, I confess, the
parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me,
until I gathered from the conversation of the Squire and the parson that
it was meant to represent the bringing in of the boar's head: a dish
formerly served up with much ceremony, and the sound of minstrelsy and
song, at great tables on Christmas Day. "I like the old custom," said
the Squire, "not merely because it is stately and pleasing in itself,
but because it was observed at the College of Oxford, at which I was
educated. When I hear the old song chanted, it brings to mind the time
when I was young and gamesome--and the noble old college-hall--and my
fellow students loitering about in their black gowns; many of whom, poor
lads, are now in their graves!"

The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by such associations,
and who was always more taken up with the text than the sentiment,
objected to the Oxonian's version of the carol: which he affirmed
was different from that sung at college. He went on, with the dry
perseverance of a commentator, to give the college reading, accompanied
by sundry annotations: addressing himself at first to the company at
large; but finding their attention gradually diverted to other talk, and
other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of auditors diminished,
until he concluded his remarks, in an under voice, to a fat-headed old
gentleman next him, who was silently engaged in the discussion of a huge
plateful of turkey.*

*[5] See Note E.

The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an
epitome of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders.
A distinguished post was allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host
termed it; being, as he added, "the standard of old English hospitality,
and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expectation."

There were several dishes quaintly decorated, and which had evidently
something traditionary in their embellishments; but about which, as I
did not like to appear over curious, I asked no questions. I could
not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with peacocks'
feathers, in imitation of the tail of that bird, which overshadowed a
considerable tract of the table. This, the Squire confessed, with
some little hesitation, was a pheasant-pie, though a peacock-pie was
certainly the most authentical; but there had been such a mortality
among the peacocks this season, that he could no