Let us beat up the drum,
And call all our neighbors together,
And when they appear,
Let us make them such cheer,
As will keep out the wind and the weather, etc.
The supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an old harper wassummoned from the servants' hall, where he had been strumming allthe evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of thesquire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, of theestablishment, and, though ostensibly a resident of the village, wasoftener to be found in the squire's kitchen than his own home, the oldgentleman being fond of the sound of "harp in hall."The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one; some ofthe older folks joined in it, and the squire himself figured downseveral couple with a partner, with whom he affirmed he had dancedat every Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemedto be a kind of connecting link between the old times and the new, andto be withal a little antiquated in the taste of hisaccomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and wasendeavoring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and othergraces of the ancient school; but he had unluckily assorted himselfwith a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by her wildvivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all hissober attempts at elegance:- such are the ill-assorted matches towhich antique gentlemen are unfortunately prone!
The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maidenaunts, on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries withimpunity: he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to teasehis aunts and cousins; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was auniversal favorite among the women. The most interesting couple in thedance was the young officer and a ward of the squire's, a beautifulblushing girl of seventeen. From several shy glances which I hadnoticed in the course of the evening, I suspected there was a littlekindness growing up between them; and, indeed, the young soldier wasjust the hero to captivate a romantic girl. He was tall, slender,and handsome, and, like most young British officers of late years, hadpicked up various small accomplishments on the continent- he couldtalk French and Italian- draw landscapes, sing very tolerably- dancedivinely; but, above all, he had been wounded at Waterloo:- whatgirl of seventeen, well read in poetry and romance, could resistsuch a mirror of chivalry and perfection!
The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and, lollingagainst the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am halfinclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of theTroubadour. The squire, however, exclaimed against having any thing onChristmas eve but good old English; upon which the young minstrel,casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of memory,struck into another strain, and, with a charming air of gallantry,gave Herrick's "Night-Piece to Julia."Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee,
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will o' the Wisp mislight thee;
No snake nor slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there is none to affright thee,Then let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber,
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.
Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me,
And when I shall meet
Thy silvery feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee.
The song might or might not have been intended in compliment tothe fair Julia, for so I found his partner was called; she, however,was certainly unconscious of any such application, for she neverlooked at the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Herface was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was agentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtless caused bythe exercise of the dance; indeed, so great was her indifference, thatshe amused herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet ofhot-house flowers, and by the time the song was concluded thenosegay lay in ruins on the floor.
The party now broke up for the night with the kind-hearted oldcustom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on my way to mychamber, the dying embers of the Yule clog still sent forth a duskyglow, and had it not been the season when "no spirit dares stirabroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my room atmidnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at their revelsabout the hearth.
My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderousfurniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of thegiants. The room was panelled with cornices of heavy carved work, inwhich flowers and grotesque faces were strangely intermingled; and arow of black-looking portraits stared mournfully at me from the walls.
The bed was of rich, though faded damask, with a lofty tester, andstood in a niche opposite a bow window. I had scarcely got into bedwhen a strain of music seemed to break forth in the air just below thewindow. I listened, and found it proceeded from a band, which Iconcluded to be the waifs from some neighboring village. They wentround the house, playing under the windows. I drew aside thecurtains to hear them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell throughthe upper part of the casement, partially lighting up the antiquatedapartment. The sounds, as they receded, became more soft and aerial,and seemed to accord with the quiet and moonlight. I listened andlistened- they became more and more tender and remote, and, as theygradually died away, my head sunk upon the pillow, and I fell asleep.
THE END
.
1819-20
