The waits still remain, as we know from auricular experience, though their performances are of a most heterodox nature, generally comprising a polka or galope, with some of the latest opera airs, instead of the genuine old carol tunes; and indeed the street carol singer himself is almost extinct, and when met with, his stock is confined to three or four different carols, with one tune, while the broadside carols themselves are much limited, in variety, even to what they were a few years back, my own collection, which is large, having been commenced long since. Christmas-boxes still prevail; self-interest will endeavour to keep these alive, and most housekeepers have a list of regular applicants, besides a few speculators, who think it worth while to ask. The principal wait claims his privilege, under a regular appointment, by warrant and admission, with all the ancient forms of the city and liberty of Westminster, having a silver badge and chain, with the arms of that city. The constant dustmen, who have “no connection with the scavengers,” in order to warn against base pretenders, leave printed applications, sometimes of a classical nature, as, for instance, requesting “you will not bestow your bounty on any persons who cannot produce a medal, having on one side a bust of Julius Cæsar’s wife, surrounded with the superscription, ‘Pompeia, Jul. Cæs. Uxor.’” One hardly sees the connection between “Julius Cæsar’s wife” and the dustman’s Christmas-box, and it gives a curious sort of fame to be so selected; and, by parity of reasoning, it may be assumed that the dustmen of Rome would have carried round a medal with Nimrod’s wife. These Christmas boxes, like New Year’s gifts, are probably of pagan origin, but seem to differ, inasmuch as they are more commonly given to dependents, while the latter are frequently reciprocal, and if given by an inferior, as an offering to a superior, meet generally with some return. Some have derived the Christmas box from the practice of the monks to offer masses for the safety of all vessels that went long voyages, in each of which a box, under the controul of the priest, was kept for offerings; this was opened at Christmas, whence the name arose: but this does not seem a probable derivation. Apprentices, journeymen, and servants, even of the higher class, such as butlers of the Inns of Court, had their boxes. John Taylor, the water poet, without due reverence of the law, compared Westminster Hall to a butler’s box, at Christmas, amongst gamesters; for whosoever loseth the box will be sure to be a winner. Some of these were earthen boxes, with a slit to receive money, and was broken after the collection was made; similar boxes of wood may still be seen. Many entries may be found in old accounts of payments made in the nature of Christmas boxes, and the kings of France indeed used to give presents to their soldiers at this time. In the countries where the disgraceful practice of slavery yet remains, a young slave child would appear to be considered as a desirable present, and advertisements to the following effect may be occasionally seen, outraging the feelings, and showing an utter indifference to the common ties of humanity. “To be sold, a little mulatto, two years of age, very pretty, and well adapted for a festival present.” It is to be presumed this “very pretty” child had a mother. Poor creature! When will this abomination of man selling his fellow-man cease on the earth? How would the slaveholders like to give the blacks their turn? We may remember that about the time of Julius Cæsar’s wife, we have lately mentioned, and long before America was known, white slaves from Britain were imported into Rome, as valuable articles for the sports of the amphitheatres. However, we must leave slavery to the lash of ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin;’ but in describing a festival peculiarly commemorative of peace, good will, and freedom to man, one could not help raising a voice, however feeble, against such an evil.

In our younger days—addressing now of course those whose younger days are past—the magic-lantern, even the common Dutch toy of the class, and especially the ‘Galanti show,’ used to afford great amusement; and when the phantasmagoria was introduced it seemed inexplicable. The dissolving views, and the great advances made in exhibitions of this class have placed the old lantern much in the back ground, and even the old-fashioned conjuring tricks are now known to nearly every school-boy, without taking into account the penetrating eyes of clever little ladies fixed on you, to find you out.

James Stephanoff, del.

Ashbee & Dangerfield, lith.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

In recent times the Christmas tree has been introduced from the continent, and is productive of much amusement to old and young, and much taste can be displayed and expense also incurred in preparing its glittering and attractive fruit. It is delightful to watch the animated expectation and enjoyment of the children as the treasures are displayed and distributed; the parents equally participating in the pleasure, and enjoying the sports of their childhood over again. And where can the weary world-worn man find greater relief from his anxious toil and many cares, and haply his many sorrows, than in contemplating the amusements of artless children, and assisting as far as he is able; for it is not every one has tact for this purpose, and our young friends soon detect this, and discover the right “Simon Pure.”

In the younger days of many of us the Christmas Pantomime was looked forward to as a source of the highest gratification, and the promise was in general realized; for who that ever saw the Grimaldi can ever forget the genuine pleasure afforded by his inimitable humour, laughable simplicity, and irresistible fun? Surely he never could belong to private or domestic life, but must have been always the same—stealing tarts from his own baker, and legs of mutton from his own butcher, and filling his pockets with his wife’s dresses and bed-furniture. When, in after life, we were introduced to him, in private, and found a quiet, respectable gentleman, in plain clothes, and no red half-moon cheeks, talking as rationally as other people, we could hardly believe but that we had been imposed upon. Peace to thy memory, Grimaldi! for many a joyous hour hast thou given the young, and of many a weary hour hast thou relieved the old.

It is not our province to argue here whether the modern pantomime is derived from the ancient Greek, harlequin being Mercury; columbine, Psyche; pantaloon, Charon; and the clown, Momus—still retaining, in his painted face and wide mouth, the resemblance of the ancient masks. It is more probable that they were introduced into Italy, as Sismondi says, with other characters of the same class, in the sixteenth century, by the wandering comedians of the time.

The harlequin and scaramouch in early times were, however, speaking characters, and often celebrated wits. Constantini, Tiberio Fiurilli (the inventor of the character of scaramouch), Cecchini, Sacchi, and Nicholas Barbieri, were all highly patronised by royalty; and the reputation of Domenic, who was occasionally admitted to the table of Louis the Fourteenth, is well known. The harlequinade or pantomime, as it is popularly called, was introduced here in 1717, by Mr. Rich, who was a celebrated harlequin himself, and acted under the name of Lun. This pantomime was called ‘Harlequin Executed,’ and was performed at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Between 1717 and 1761, when he retired, he composed several harlequinades, which were all successful. The present handsome though somewhat bizarre dress of harlequin, is said to have been introduced by Mr. Byrne, a celebrated performer, who was never excelled in this character, at Christmas, 1799, in ‘Harlequin Amulet,’ and at the same time he introduced new steps and leaps. Before this time the dress was a loose jacket and trousers, but the party-coloured jacket, though of inferior quality, was worn by merry-andrews at least a century before this time, and may have been modified from the motley of the fool. The wand of harlequin would seem to be somewhat akin to the dagger of lath of the old vice, but used for a different purpose, and the cap is an article of mystery, as, when placed on his head, he is rendered invisible to the other characters.