meeting are perhaps called on to sympathise with some unhappy debutant, whose sense of the virtues of the chairman proves too vast for his powers of expression; and with Miss Peachum in the Beggar's Opera, to lament" that so noble a youth should come to an untimely end." Alas! these exhibitions have little connexion with a deep love of the Bible, or with real pity for the sufferings of man. Were religious tyranny to render the Scriptures scarce, and to forbid their circulation, they would speedily be better prized and honoured than when scattered with gorgeous profusion, and lauded by nobles and princes.

The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity is another boasted institution of these cold-hearted days. It would annihilate the race of beggars, and remove from the delicate eye the very form and aspect of misery. Strange infatuation! as if an old class of the great family of man might be cut off without harm! All are but parts of one stupendous whole," bound together by ties of antique sympathy, of which the lowest and most despised are not without their uses. In striking from society a race whom we have, from childhood, been accustomed to observe, a vast body of dear associations and gentle thoughts must necessarily be lost for ever. The poor mendicants whom we would banish from the earth, are the best sinecurists to whose sustenance we contribute. In the great science-the science of humanity-they not rarely are our first teachers: they affectingly remind us of our own state of mutual dependance; bring sorrow palpably before the eyes of the prosperous and the vain; and prevent the hearts of many from utterly "losing their nature." They give, at least, a salutary disturbance to gross selfishness, and hinder it from entirely forming an ossified crust about the soul. We see them too with gentle interest, because we have always seen them, and were accustomed to relieve them in the spring-time of our days. And if some of them are what the world calls impostors, and literally “do beguile us of our tears" and our alms, those tears are not shed, nor those alms given, in vain. If they have even their occasional revellings and hidden luxuries, we should rather rejoice to believe that happiness has every where its nooks and corners which we do not see; that there is more gladness in the earth than meets the politician's gaze; and that fortune has her favours, "secret, sweet, and precious," even for those on whom she seems most bitterly to frown. Well may that divinest of philosophers, Shakspeare, make Lear reply to his daughters, who had been speaking in the true spirit of modern improvements:

"

O reason not the need: our basest beggars

Are in the poorest thing superfluous :

Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beasts!"

There are many other painful instances in these times of that "restless wisdom" which "has a broom for ever in its hand to rid the world of nuisances." There are, for example, the plans of Mr. Owen, with his infallible recipes for the formation of character. Virtue is not to be forced in artificial hot-beds, as he proposes. Rather let it spring up where it will from the seed scattered throughout the earth, and rise hardily in sun and shower, while the "free mountain winds have leave to blow against it." But I feel that I have already broken too violently on my habits of dreamy thought, by the asperity into which I now and then have fallen. Let me then break off at once, with the single expression of a hope, that this "bright and breathing world" may not be changed into a penitentiary by the efforts of modern reformers.

I am, sir,

Your hearty well-wisher.

**We have given a place to the foregoing article, which, though it came anonymously, leaves a full conviction on our minds that it is the work of no other pen than that of our late lamented and worthy friend, George Pertinax Growler, Esq., of Kennelhowlbury-Hall, Berkshire, who represented that county during many successive Parliaments, and, though a tory, was a zealous member of Opposition. Respect for the memory of our beloved Growler, overcomes all the reluctance of our personal opinion as to the admissibility of the paper. Poor George! the last time we saw him in London he refused to dine with us, merely because we had taken an eighteen-penny fare by water, one beautiful summer morning, in order to look at that "splendid nuisance," Waterloo Bridge, shortly after its completion. He may be wrong as to the blessings which society derives from mendicants, or as to the advantages that would have accrued to legal eloquence from the inebriety of lawyers; and he strikes us as heretical on the subject of the Bible Society. But let none imagine that George Growler was himself addicted to the bottle, or an encourager of vicious mendicity, or an enemy to the education of the poor. On the contrary, he had no failing, even in principle, except alarm at innovation. To that he was indeed an enemy. The orphan nephew of whom he speaks was the subject of his tender but very troublesome thoughts. The youth was detected by his uncle, at the age of 19, in having become a member of the new philosophical club, a very genteel one that met for literary and liquid recreation at the Cat-and-Bagpipes. This circumstance required our intervention to propitiate the old gentleman's wrath. The word new, as his nephew said, would

have offended him even in the mention of "The New Jerusalem." The same poor nephew being afterwards smit at Birmingham with the love of sacred song, a second time offended him almost to the danger of disinheritance, by writing a Sonnet on the Steam Engine, which began "Hail, wonder-working power!" -but we happily made up the breach. Bred a Tory by his father, who hated the Hanoverian rats, George Growler at first opposed the late Mr. Pitt as a presumptuous young minister, and latterly, because he flagged in Tory zeal behind Mr. Burke. What side he would have now taken in politics can be only conjectured: to us it seems, he would have still opposed ministers as the most radical of innovators. Be that as it may, he departed this life in 1818. His death was occasioned by a fever, on which the opinions of his physician and apothecary were divided, The former pronounced it nervous, and occasioned by the conversation of his neighbour Sir Francis Fluent, on the subject of New Improvements; the latter attributed it to typhus infection, caught during one of his walks in stopping to speak with a "Cumberland beggar."

ON THE ORIGIN OF THE CELEBRATION OF CHRISTMAS.

It was no strange circumstance that, at the dawn of Christianity, every festival which was observed by the Jews should be equally solemnized by the Christian converts of the first century. A great portion of these converts had gone over from the Jewish to the Christian faith; and this portion was, for a long time, unable wholly to emancipate itself from the trammels of early impressions. Nay, the Apostles themselves were tenacious of the Jewish feasts, and retained, amongst others, those of the Passover and Pentecost. It was but by slow degrees that the Christians were able to estrange themselves from the Jewish observances, to throw off the usages of the sons of Abraham, and transform the festivals, which they had brought with them on the day of their conversion, into Christian anniversaries. Far, however, from seeking to abandon the customs and solemnities which had once been received into their new church, they set themselves about rendering them typical of some important occurrences in the history of their religion. By this permutation, the festival of Easter was grafted on the feast of the Passover; Pentecost was converted into an annual commemoration of the descent of the Holy Ghost; and out of the Jewish Sabbath arose our Sunday, than which no other day in the seven could by possibility be of deeper importance or more awful interest to the believer in the Saviour's resurrection.

Among the early Christians, there were many too who dwelt in Heathen countries; and not a few of this class having themselves abandoned the splendid superstitions of Paganism for the noble simplicity of Christian doctrine, introduced Heathen festivals among their brethren, and gave such an interpretation to their transmigration as was consistent with the character of their new faith.

In the lapse of time, Christianity having extended itself to the palace, and its ministers having succeeded in acquiring a considerable share of power and influence, they were not wanting to themselves in any contrivance which could invest their religion with greater external pomp and dignity. They knew that every increase of its outward splendour would have the effect of shedding additional lustre on its expounders; and, with this conviction, every occurrence in the history of their faith was diligently ransacked, that its memory might be perpetuated by some festival: indeed, so widely was this field enlarged, that, at last, a manufactory of fictions was set up, which were greedily swallowed by their ignorant and credulous flocks; amongst whom, these inventions served the intended purpose of enlarging the catalogue of religious observances and festivals.

We must return, however, from these matters to the more immediate object of our inquiries.

We have already remarked, that many of the anniversaries solemnized by the Christian church were transplanted into it from the Heathen soil. Whilst Easter has succeeded to the "Feralia" of the Romans, there can be little doubt that Christmas has taken the place of their "Saturnalia."* This festival, instituted in honour of Saturn, was celebrated by them with the greatest splendour, debauchery, and extravagance. It was, during its duration, an epoch of freedom and equality: the master ceased to be master, and the slave to be slave; the former waited, at his own board, upon the latter. The ceremonial of this festival was opened on the 19th of December, by the lighting of a profusion of waxen flambeaux in the temple of Saturn, as an expiatory offering to the relenting god, who had, in remoter times, been worshipped with human sacrifices. At this festive season, boughs and laurel were profusely suspended in every quarter, and presents were interchanged on all sides.t

The Christian church was anxious to abolish the celebration of these Saturnalia, in which she blushed to see her own disciples partaking; and therefore appointed a festival, in honour of her Divine Master, to supersede them. If, during the Roman

"Christmass," says Selden, "succeeds the Saturnalia; the same time, the same number of holy days.'

It is singular that our Druid ancestors, as well as the Greeks and Romans, devoted this season of the year to ceremonies and religious observances.

games, the order of social affairs was inverted, and the menial was raised to be master, surely it was not unnatural that they should, in their purer features, be adopted as the model of an anniversary in commemoration of that Christ, the King of Kings, who had appeared in the garb of a menial, and had elevated those who were the slaves of their sins, to be lords and chiefs among the heavenly hosts! Though of Heathen origin, the festival of Christmas no longer exhibited sacrifices of bulls or goats: it was carefully pruned of those disgusting features and extravagances which nourished and excited debasing passions; and yet, in order that it might not prove revolting to the habits and feelings of the new convert who was called upon to resign the meretricious blandishments of the Saturnalia, it was permitted to retain such innoxious customs from the Pagan celebration, as were not wholly irreconcilable with the bland and cheerful spirit of Christianity. The torches, which had shed their effulgence through the temple of Saturn, shone with undiminished splendour in the temple of Christian worship, and presented, as it were, a symbol of Jesus, "that eternal light which was born in the world" to waken the whole human race to life and immortality;—which illuminated the fields of Bethlehem, and shone about the shepherds, "a lamp unto their feet, and a light unto their paths."* The Saturnalian custom of decking the streets and houses with laurel and boughs, and exchanging presents, was also preserved, and has partially descended to our own times. The interchange of presents was supposed to typify the spiritual and heavenly gifts which our Saviour, by his coming, had lavished upon mankind.

There is one custom in particular, prevalent in some countries, and formerly common in England, which strikingly designates the origin of our Christmas festivities. And it is this: from amongst the domestics of a family, it was the practice to elect one as the Master of the Household, under the appellation of the Christmas King, or Lord of Misrule, and to assign him a species of sovereignty both over the other servants as well as the immediate members of the family. In this way, as Selden remarks, "the master waited on his servant as the Lord of

On the night preceding Christmas-day, our forefathers were accustomed to light up candles of enormous size, which were called "Christmas candles," and with which they illuminated their houses in honour of the Saviour's nativity. The same custom prevailed from the days of St. Jerome; "accenduntur lumi. naria jam sole rutilante, non utique ad fugandas tenebras, sed ad signum lætitiæ demonstrandum." Cont. Vigil. c. 2.-"On the night of the Saviour's birth," says also Chateaubriand, "troops of children adorning the manger, churches gay and brilliant with flowers, the multitude pressing around the cradle of their God, joyous hallelujahs, and the air re-echoing with the sounds of bells and organs, presented a noble spectacle of innocence and majesty."-Génie du Christianisme.