He was full of joke and jest, To see him die, across the waste Every one for his own! The night is starry and cold, my friend, And the New-year, blithe and bold, my friend, How hard he breathes !-over the snow, The cricket chirps; the light burns low: Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you. His face is growing sharp and thin. Close up his eyes: tie up his chin: That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, Occasionally, too, there will come a thought across us, in these hours, which cannot be made to harmonize with the feelings we are seeking to encourage, and has the unpleasing effect of a discord. It is felt, at times, for instance, to be a sort of indecency that we should be looking out merrily for the new year, when the old one is perishing by our side,-and, for an instant, the heart's joyous issues are thrown back upon it. And then, again, the looker forward to hail the "coming guest," will suddenly fix his eyes upon the veil which shrouds that face; and the chill of a moment will creep over his heart, as he speculates on what it may conceal,-or, gazing on the sealed book which the NewYear carries in his hand, asks himself how many of those who * (Twelve?) sit with him, on this night, about the social table, may have their names written in its last page! Thoughts like these, however, are instantly treated like informers,--and ducked, as they deserve to be, in the wassail-bowl. But, in any case, we have never failed to observe that, as the midnight hour draws near, a hush falls upon these assemblies ;and when men rise to usher in the new comer, it is, for the most part, in silence. We do not believe that moment is ever a merry one. The blithe spirits of the night stand still. The glasses are full;-but so is the heart-and the eve is strained upon the finger of the dial whose notes are to sound the arrival, as if held there by a spell. We believe that few men could turn their faces away from the dial, even by an effort;-and he who could would be out of place in any assembly of which we made one-unless we were out of place ourselves. The instant the solemn sounds of the midnight chime have ceased, the bells from a thousand steeples lift up their merry voices-but they never, at that moment, found a true echo in our hearts; and the shout which rises from the wassail table, in answer, has ever seemed to us to want much of the mirth to which it makes such boisterous pretension. But this oppressive sensation soon passes away;—and the glad bells of the spirit, like those of the steeples, ring freely out. When the old year is fairly withdrawn-when we have ceased to hear the sound of the falling earth upon its coffin lid-when the heir stands absolutely in our presence, and the curtain which hides his features has begun slowly to rise (while the gazer on that curtain can discover, as yet, nothing of the dark things that lie behind and the hopes which the new year brings are seen through it, by their own light)-then does the heart shake off all that interfered with its hearty enjoyment, and then "comes in the sweet o' the night!" It will be late, we promise you, before we separate. One song to the past! and then, "shall we set about some revels ?". -as our old friend, Sir Andrew, hath it— "Here's to the year that's awa! We'll drink it, in strong and in sma'; And to each bonny lassie that we dearly loo'd, Here's to the soldier who bled! To the sailor who bravely did fa'! O! their fame shall remain, though their spirits are fled, Here's to the friend we can trust, When the sorrows of adversity blaw; Who can join in our song, and be nearest our heart, 66 And now are we in the humor, this New-Year's morning, for keeping such vigils as they did in Illyria :-for "were we" too "not born under Taurus!" No advocates do we mean to be for those whose zeal in symposiack matters, like that of Bardolph, "burns in their noses :"-but occasions there are-and this is one-when we hold it lawful to sound the wassail-bowl to some considerable depth. Like honest Isaac Walton, we love to keep within the bounds of "such mirth as does not make friends ashamed to look on one another next morning ;"—but we feel that we may venture to be a little intemperate, in the present instance,—and yet hold our heads up, even if we should chance to meet one of those gentry whom Burns presumes to be wise, because they are sae grave." What says Innocentius ?—and he was a father of the church!—" Fœcundi calices quem non fecere disertum ?" "Carry Master Silence to bed!" therefore,for we are about to be talkative, and expect to be answered. No man need sit with us longer than he likes: but it is the opening of another year, and we must see more of it. We find much virtue in Sir Toby's excellent reasoning, that "not to be a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes ;"—and have no sympathy for those who would insist to-day with the stolid Sir Andrew, that "to be up late is to be up late." "A false conclusion!" says Sir Toby; and so say we. So fill the glasses, once more, from the wassail-bowl,—and let us “rouse the night-owl in" another "catch!" But, alas! it is later than we thought,—and the owl is gone to bed; for we hear the cry of that other bird whom Herrick calls "the Bellman of the night :" "Hark! the cock crows, and yon bright star Tells us the day himself's not far: And see! where, breaking from the night, Honest Master Cotton had evidently been sitting up all night himself, when he wrote these lines:-and being therefore a boon companion, and a true observer of Christmas proprieties, we will take his warning, and to bed ourselves. So "a good new year to you, my masters! and many of them!"-as the bellman (not Herrick's) says, on this morning. NEW YEAR'S DAY. 1ST JANUARY. THE first of January, forming the accomplishment of the eight days after the birth of Christ, has been sometimes called the octave of Christmas ;-and is celebrated in our church services, as the day of the Circumcision. Of this day we have little left to say ;-almost all that belongs to it having been, of necessity, anticipated, in the progress of those remarks which have brought us up to it. It is a day of universal congratulation; and one on which, so far as we may judge from external signs, a general expansion of the heart takes place. Even they who have no hearts to open-or hearts which are not opened by such ordinary occasions-adopt the phraseology of those whom all genial hints call into sympathy with their fellow-creatures: and the gracious compliments of the season may be heard falling from lips on which they must surely wither, in the very act of passing. : Of new year's gifts--which are the distinguishing feature of this day--we have already said enough, in pointing out the distinction betwixt them and Christmas-boxes. They still pass generally from friend to friend, and between the different members of a family; and are, in such cases, very pleasant remembrancers but the practice, in ancient times, had some very objectionable features. It was formerly customary for the nobles, and those about the court, to make presents, on this day, to the sovereign ;-who, if he were a prince with anything like a princely mind, took care that the returns which he made, in kind, should at least balance the cost to the subject. The custom, however, became a serious tax when the nobles had to do with a |