Old Christmas | Page 3

Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the net profits
you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate

your applicable taxes. If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due.
Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg
Association/Carnegie-Mellon University" within the 60 days following
each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual
(or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU
DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, scanning
machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free copyright
licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can think of. Money
should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association / Carnegie-Mellon
University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN
ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*

This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, [email protected].

OLD CHRISTMAS
by Washington Irving

But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing but the hair of his
good, gray, old head and beard left? Well, I will have that, seeing that I
cannot have more of him.
Hue and Cry after Christmas.

CONTENTS
CHRISTMAS

THE STAGE-COACH
CHRISTMAS EVE
CHRISTMAS DAY
THE CHRISTMAS DINNER

A man might then behold At Christmas, in each hall Good fires to curb
the cold, And meat for great and small. The neighbours were friendly
bidden, And all had welcome true, The poor from the gates were not
chidden, When this old cap was new.
Old Song

Christmas
There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over
my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural
games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw
in the May morning of life, when as yet I only knew the world through
books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it; and they bring
with them the flavour of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps
with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more home-bred,
social, and joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are daily
growing more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but
still more obliterated by modern fashion. They resemble those
picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see crumbling in
various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages,
and partly lost in the additions and alterations of latter days. Poetry,
however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game and
holiday revel, from which it has derived so many of its themes,--as the
ivy winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and mouldering tower,
gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their tottering
remains, and, as it were, embalming them in verdure.

Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the
strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of solemn and
sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a
state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church
about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. They dwell on the
beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that
accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervour and
pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in full jubilee
on the morning that brought peace and good-will to men. I do not know
a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the full
choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a
cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant
harmony.
It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this
festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of
peace and love, has been made the season for gathering together of
family connections, and drawing closer again those bands of kindred
hearts which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are
continually operating to cast loose; of calling back the children of a
family who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder,
once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rallying-place of
the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the
endearing mementoes of childhood.
There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to
the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of
our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth
and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad
and everywhere." The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the
breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the
golden pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and
heaven with its deep delicious blue and its