In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane The redbreast looks in vain Fror hips and haws, Lo ; shining flowers upon my window pane The silver pencil of the winter draws.   When all the snowy hill And the bare woods are still When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire, Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs - More fair the roses, lo, the flowers of fire ! - 'Winter'. R.L. Stevenson Saints' Days etc. Dec. 24.   Christmas Eve   Dec. 25    Christmas Day   Dec. 27    St. Thomas' Day   Dec. 31    New Years Day Mottoes : " In December keep yourself warm and sleep. " "Bounce buckram velvets' dear, Christmas comes but once a year; And when it comes, it brings good cheer, But when it's gone it's never near." "That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do bang Upon those boughs, which shake against the cold Bare, ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang." - Sonnet. Shakespeare

	Heap on more wood ! - the wind is chill, But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still ; ' Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale ; ' Twas Christmas told the merriest tale ; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year." Sir Walter Scott " Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviours' birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long, And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm So hallow'd and so gracious is this time. " Shakespeare

	When icicles hang by the wall,     And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,   And Tom bears logs into the hall,     And milk comes frozen home in pail,   When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,   Then nightly sings the staring owl,                 Tu-whit;   Tu-who, a merry note,   While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.   When all aloud the wind doth blow,     And coughing drowns the parson's saw,   And birds sit brooding in the snow,     And Marian's nose looks red and raw,   When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,   Then nightly sings the staring owl,                 Tu-whit;   Tu-who, a merry note,   While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Shakespeare So, now is come our joyful'st feast;     Let every man be jolly; Each room with ivy leaves is drest,     And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine; Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,     And let us all be merry. Geo. Wither The Mistletoe (Viscum album) is one of a family of parasites. In England it is most abundant on the Apple-tree, more rarely on the Oak. The berries are eaten by most birds, particularly by the Missel-thrush, to which it gives its' name. It is through the agency of the birds the the plant is propagated ; the visous nature of the fruit causes it to adhere to the birds' beak, and in the birds efforts to rid itself of the stick substance, by wiping its' beak against a tree, the seeds are transferred to the bark. The Druids held Mistletoe in great reverence. Pliny says they esteemed it as a gift sent from heaven and held the tree on which it was found as sacred. He says too they called it "All-heal"