There was something truly cheering in
this triumph of warmth and verdure over the frosty thraldom of winter;
it was, as the Squire observed, an emblem of Christmas hospitality,
breaking through the chills of ceremony and selfishness, and thawing
every heart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indications of
good cheer reeking from the chimneys of the comfortable farmhouses and
low, thatched cottages. "I love," said he, "to see this day well kept
by rich and poor; it is a great thing to have one day in the year,
at least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you go, and of
having, as it were, the world all thrown open to you; and I am almost
disposed to join with Poor Robin, in his malediction of every churlish
enemy to this honest festival:
"'Those who at Christmas do repine,
And would fain hence despatch him,
May they with old Duke Humphry dine,
Or else may Squire Ketch catch 'em.'"
The Squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games and
amusements which were once prevalent at this season among the lower
orders, and countenanced by the higher: when the old halls of castles
and manor-houses were thrown open at daylight; when the tables were
covered with brawn, and beef, and humming ale; when the harp and the
carol resounded all day long, and when rich and poor were alike welcome
to enter and make merry.* "Our old games and local customs," said he,
"had a great effect in making the peasant fond of his home, and the
promotion of them, by the gentry made him fond of his lord.
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