Though prepared to witness many of these little eccentricities, from being apprised of the peculiar hobby of mine host; yet, I confess, the parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me, until I gathered from the conversation of the Squire and the parson that it was meant to represent the bringing in of the boar’s head: a dish formerly served up with much ceremony, and the sound of minstrelsy and song, at great tables on Christmas Day. ‘I like the old custom,’ said the Squire, ‘not merely because it is stately and pleasing in itself, but because it was observed at the College of Oxford, at which I was educated. When I hear the old song chanted, it brings to mind the time when I was young and gamesome--and the noble old college-hall--and my fellow-students loitering about in their black gowns: many of whom, poor lads, are now in their graves!’
The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an epitome of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders. A distinguished post was allotted to ‘ancient sirloin,’ as mine host termed it: being, as he added, ‘the standard of old English hospitality, and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expectation.’
The little beings were as happy about him as the mock fairies about Falstaff
When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a huge silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship, which he placed before the Squire. Its appearance was hailed with acclamation; being the Wassail Bowl, so renowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had been prepared by the Squire himself.
The old gentleman’s whole countenance beamed with a serene look of indwelling delight, as he stirred this mighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a hearty wish of a merry Christmas to all present, he sent it brimming, around the board, for every one to follow his example, according to the primitive style; pronouncing it ‘the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all hearts meet together.’
There was much laughing and rallying, as the honest emblem of Christmas joviality circulated, and was kissed rather coyly by the ladies. When it reached Master Simon he raised it in both hands, and with the air of a boon companion, struck up an old Wassail chanson:
The browne bowle,
The merry browne bowle.
As it goes round about-a,