Which, taken at the flood, leads on to matrimony;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in spinsterhood.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.’”
Monday, the 24th December’s sun rises in a fog:—everybody has lost the day of the week, and come upon what appears an infinity of Saturdays rolled into one—beginning the week with a grand end,—for it is the advent of Christmas!
The Masters de Camp arrive as was expected.—Cadet Wellesley exhibiting his military accomplishments by surveying the back field; all the holes and corners; riddling the sty and pigs with Mr. Brown’s blunderbuss; bivouacking in the pantry at Victoria’s
expence; and, when remonstrated with, for mere sport knocking the plaster Albert off the garden wall into the lane. Mr. Latimer de Camp introduces himself more civilly, as Miss Jemima is playing and singing (of course for practice), by accompanying “How happy could I be with either,” on the wooden partition with his thumb, after the fashion of a tambarine.
This is the annual busy day.—Packets and parcels are being delivered unceasingly by uncommonly civil butcher-boys, graceful grocers, and urbanic green-grocers, who are near enough to boxing-day to know that silver on the tongue is necessary to charm silver from the pocket. The Captain has sent to learn if any consignments are for him, to ask the loan of a pack of cards, and Victoria’s company to spend the evening at the Albert—which invitation is graciously accepted.