FAT CATTLE SHOW.
December should be a cheerful month, weather or no. It should be a warm one too, though never so cold. People blow their fires and use their bellows within, while the wind bellows without. Lawyers are glad over Coke. Men take measures to secure the comfort of their bodies, and preserve the coats of their stomachs. Though the Legislature does not sit, the middle classes rejoice in the carrying of many of their bills. Pastrycooks begin to mince matters; and "eyes" are turned towards "pies." Politicians affect sincerity; and Peel, tout sweet, becomes candid. Gross acts of plum-puddingizing are effected by means of a grocer; and Plum-tree-street is then the sweetest locality in St. Giles's. The Irish daily find fresh raisins for flocking there. With the sale of plums money gets current; but the sovereign is just now more valued than ever, and, at the great theatres, Stirling is all the go. The markets grow lively, and Smithfield puts forth its show. Pigs have lots of stuffing, and get so heavy that it is quite common to ask for a pig of lead. About oxen and sheep there is a decided ignis fat-you-us. Beasts visit beasts, and human fat cattle—to survey the quadrupedal—walk in, plump. Butchers display fine traits. Boxing day arrives, and with it the knocks of tradesmen, but they only make a hit when they are paid. People are obliged to wait for their own Nox till night. Merry drinks and games then stir not the fire, but the fire-side. The younger branches of families are indulged in wine that is elder, universal supperage supplies the place of universal suffrage; and the only ballot is for the bean in the cake. Christmas is as brave a fellow on land as ever Admiral Winter was at sea, and should be toasted accordingly. He lights our fires, and leaves few without fuel:—he tows up our colliers to warm our toes; and, though he is too kind to sink the barges, he always scuttles the coals! He is no revolutionist, for, whilst warming the little, he has a respect for the grate. "He is," says the Frenchman, "our defender, by de fender; and if he do seem cold, it is only because he is neither a bore nor a muff."
15. Mrs. Trimmer d. 1810.
Hurrah! for jolly Christmas, boys! his days are coming fast;
When rod is nought but rod'montade, and birch becomes bombast.