Birth of the Saviour, wherein might be seen the Mother and Child, oxen
and asses, the three Holy Kings from the East--the goodliest of them all
a blackamoor with a great yellow beard flowing down over his robes. On
the other hangings a tournament might be seen; and I mind me to this day
how that, when I was a young child, I would gaze up at the herald who was
blowing the trumpet in fear lest his cheeks should burst, inasmuch as
they were so greatly puffed out and he never ceased blowing so hard.
Between the top of these hangings and the ceiling was a light wood
cornice of oak-timber, on which my father, God rest him, had caused
various posies to be carved of his own devising. You might here read:

"Like a face our life may be
To which love lendeth eyes to see."

Or again,

"The Lord Almighty hides his glorious face
That so we may not cease to seek his grace."

Or else,

"The Lord shall rule my life while I sit still,
And rule it rightly by his righteous will."

And whereas my father had loved mirthful song he had written in another
place:

"If life be likened to a thorny place
Song is the flowery spray that lends it grace."