MR. CHAINMAIL. Well, Doctor, you shall be indulged. But I shall
have my wassail-bowl, nevertheless.

An immense bowl of spiced wine, with roasted apples hissing on its
surface, was borne into the hall by four men, followed by an empty
bowl of the same dimensions, with all the materials of arrack
punch, for the divine's especial brewage. He accinged himself to
the task with his usual heroism, and having finished it to his
entire satisfaction, reminded his host to order in the devil

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. I think, Mr. Chainmail, we can amuse ourselves
very well here all night. The enemy may be still excubant: and we
had better not disperse till daylight. I am perfectly satisfied
with my quarters. Let the young folk go on with their gambols; let
them dance to your old harper's minstrelsy; and if they please to
kiss under the mistletoe, whereof I espy a goodly bunch suspended
at the end of the hall, let those who like it not leave it to those
who do. Moreover, if among the more sedate portion of the
assembly, which, I foresee, will keep me company, there were any to
revive the good old custom of singing after supper, so to fill up
the intervals of the dances, the steps of night would move more
lightly.

MR. CHAINMAIL. My Susan will set the example, after she has set
that of joining in the rustic dance, according to good customs long
departed.

After the first dance, in which all classes of the company mingled,
the young lady of the mansion took her harp, and following the
reverend gentleman's suggestion, sang a song of the twelfth