THE MISERIES OF CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS.

To Mr. Courtenay.

"Fanum putre Vacunæ."-HOR.

SIR, I know it is the general opinion that his few weeks' Holidays are the happiest part of a schoolboy's existence, and that the prospect of going home, with its pleasant and natural accompaniments of cessation from lessons and from flogging, are the only means by which he is enabled to keep up his spirits, under the heavy load and pressure of necessary discipline. This, however, is taking it for granted that a schoolboy is of course unhappy; which I, as an Etonian, must for my own part positively deny: but at the same time I am forced to allow, although perhaps it may be injurious to my argument, that I begin to feel most uncomfortably, when the busy preparations of my joyful community remind me of what, of my own accord, I should never wish to recollect-that the Holidays are approaching. You will probably, by this time, be able to conjecture, that I am a sober steady youth, and not one likely to endanger his neck for the sake of a boyish bravado, by starting from Eton in a wretched tandem, torturing myself by riding a lame hack, or whisking away in that most ungentlemanlike of all conveyances, a post-chaise and four. In truth, I am usually content with a stage coach; the miseries of that conveyance are so well known, and so universally experienced, that they need no description: perhaps, however, they may be thought rather increased by the length of my journey, which requires a day and night for its completion, and by the cold of Christmas, which is the time to which I particularly allude. I usually reach Swinburne House about seven o'clock in the evening. The moment that the noise of the wheels is heard, the hall doors fly open, and all the old servants come forward to hand me out of the carriage, to inquire, after my health, and pay their earliest respects to Young Master." After this, fatigued as I am, I have to receive the hugs, kisses, and questions of the whole family, assembled around a blazing wood fire in the dining-room, with the bottles and dessert still standing on the table, and an elbow chair placed for my reception in the chimney corner. Oh! the kind inquiries and compassionate looks which I receive, when I stretch out my numbed and shivering hands to the blaze, while, in spite of trying to look as happy and merry as I can, my teeth betray me with their involuntary chattering! "How happy he must

be!" is the general cry ;-one proposes a hot dinner; another rings the bell for the purpose; my old Aunt seldom fails to stand up for the superior efficacy of a refreshing cup of warm tea after a journey. All these prescriptions generally end in my taking a glass of wine to drink the healths of the party, and setting off to bed, happy and tired. Although I declare myself averse to leaving Eton, when I am comfortably settled there, and indeed to the general tenor of my vacation, I should be both ungrateful and unfeeling if I could receive so many hearty welcomes, and so many affectionate good wishes, without a sweet emotion of joy-if I could visit, without a sensible pleasure, the spot endeared to me by the recollection of my birth and my boyhood; where I have so often played, and laughed, and wept; where every nook and cranny is the scene of some ancient enjoyment. In fact I always consider the first the happiest night of the Holidays, and lay myself down with wearied limbs and agreeable thoughts; perhaps too in some degree comforted, by the knowledge that I have that liberty which is denied me at school, of lifting up my head without the danger of breaking it.

The next day passes pleasantly enough, being employed in a ride round the premises, and in looking at the improvementsperhaps some road or footpath turned, which interfered with the young plantations, and from whence the passenger used to stray and wander over the park, to the great annoyance of the proprietors; some unsightly cottages knocked down, or whitewashed and beautified; some clumps of forest trees disposed in different directions, either to hide a disagreeable object, or to provide against the decay of the venerable old oaks, which my Father wisely considers must at some time happen, although they are preserved with the most religious attention. He is always my companion in this excursion, points out what he has done, and expatiates with true delight upon the advantage of the alterations and the novelties, of which he is as proud as any country squire in England. Sometimes too, I am called upon to admire the superior farming of a favourite tenant, who, as I am told, has just introduced, in spite of all prejudices, a new and enlightened mode of agriculture, the success of which is fully exemplified by the flourishing appearance of his drilled wheat, the healthy plant of winter turnips, and the fine condition of his sheep and oxen. This, repeated every day, would be very tedious; however, it might be better than doing nothing, which is positively my unwelcome condition. After breakfast, or even earlier, all the members of the family who can mount a horse, or pull a trigger, set out, according to their different inclinations, either on hunting or shooting parties. Now both of these pursuits I utterly detest; and fishing,

which is my only and principal pleasure, is totally prevented by the coldness of the weather and unfitness of the season.

I dare say you, Mr. Editor, or any other compassionate person, will readily pity me, left to myself to write a solitary letter, or to explore the treasures of the dusty book-shelves, a sort of invasion which the ancient folios have not felt for the last fifty years. "Tis true I now and then encounter the clergyman of the parish, who has free admission to this seat of learning; but he is a very poor librarian, for he only knows a few volumes of divinity; and, being an elderly gentleman, is so heterodox and obsolete in his classical opinions, that he has often put me into a rage by disputing Porson's learning, and is still inclined to reject the doctrine of the Digamma. In addition to this, he is very pertinacious in argument, more of a metaphysician than philosopher, and more of a schoolman than either, totally ignorant of modern literature, which he holds beneath him, and imbued with rigid notions of discipline; so that I can never converse with him pleasantly; and I always perceive an involuntary shrug of his shoulders, and contortion of his visage, whenever the name of Eton is mentioned; and indeed he has often favoured me with some very sharp and illiberal attacks on the frivolous system (as he terms it,) of learning pursued there, which nothing but his gray head deters me from returning. In such company there is little to learn, and still less to enjoy ; so I generally go out of the room, and leave the clergyman to his books and sermon-making. The question again occurs to me, What is to be done? To ride by myself is impossible; to go with my Mother and Aunt in the carriage to the post town is still worse; so my deliberation generally ends in my putting on a great-coat and gaiters, and taking a turn or two on the gravel terrace behind the house. Sometimes I extend my walk as far as the garden, and pace along the sunny southern wall; or, as an extraordinary effort, saunter through the hothouses and conservatories, and try to fancy myself transported again to the natural warmth and beauties of summer. Once, and only once, my younger brothers half-dragged half-teazed me down to a pond at no great distance, where they had been at the trouble of making a slide, and fancied that it would be a great pleasure to me if I could but dare to exercise myself upon it. They tried every means of persuasion, showed me over and over again how easily, safely, and pleasantly they glided along, and at last enticed me to attempt the passage. You may imagine the consequence; one foot slipped away from the other, and down I fell. Fortunately the ice supported my weight, and, with some difficulty, I raised myself up, sorely bruised and dirtied, with the satisfaction of a general laugh against me. My retreat was rapidly effected, and I resolutely

vowed to be wiser in future. I had almost forgotten to mention that some time since my Father, though he professed that he could not exactly see the use of it, after many entreaties, consented to become a subscriber to the book club at the county town. Great was the pleasure that I promised myself from this indulgence: but now my sentiments are altered, and I begin to think that my Father was right in his first judgment. If you wish to know the reasons, I need merely mention, that, on my last arrival here, I found, as a great novelty, procured for my particular amusement, the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord." If this had been intentional you might have called it well contrived, for really I had almost forgotten them, if it be possible to forget such interesting writings.

As I hate of all things the stiff formality of a crowded drawing-room, I generally enter as late as possible, and creep to a corner, contenting myself with answering my nearest neighbour. This, too, is my case at dinner, where most of the conversation turns upon the transactions of the day; and, since I have no share in these, of course I cannot enjoy the description, although it is highly seasoned, and ornamented with every technical illustration. Very often a long argument about the conduct of the County Members, and from thence, by an easy digression, the late proceedings in Parliament, engross every body's attention except mine; for I care as little as may be for either party, and consider myself totally unfit to form a judgment on any such matters. The furious spirit and gestures of the combatants please me just in the same way as the contests of prize-fighters do an amateur; besides, the noise overpowers the knives and forks, which are sometimes heard, with an ominous clatter, above the sound of our ordinary conversation. Some dashing young fox-hunter frequently asks me, whether we had not a hard run lately at the rebellion? whether I was in at the death? how many were spilt? Upon my answering, as far as I understood him, that I thought it a foolish piece of business, and had nothing to do with it, it is easy to perceive that he sets me down as a Sawney. Another inquires, as a piece of general information, how many boys there are at Eton? This is a puzzler, for I never take the trouble to count the list; however, about 500 is nearly sure to be right. Then I am dreadfully alarmed by a female voice from the top of the table,—“ Pray do you know your schoolfellow, Mr. Taylor's son?" I immediately excuse myself, by observing there are so many Taylors that it is impossible to distinguish to which of them the lady alludes. After a minute's interval of consideration, I hear the ominous sound of her friend's Christian name, in a satisfied tone and expression, which is quickly changed for an utterance of surprise, when I confess that this only adds to my difficulty; and all the marks of

looks, aize, and disposition, are resorted to in vain. Sometimes I cannot use this evasion, and am obliged to own that I do know a little of the object of inquiry. This is not sufficient; I am expected to understand his temper, his abilities, his character,-in fact, to use the querist's expression, "all about him." I find myself placed in a terrible dilemma, between the fear of offending and telling a lie; to get out of which I am, in self-defence, obliged to avow that I have but few intimate friends, and that I am not acquainted even by name with half my schoolfellows. This is certain to astonish every one, and I am considered, if not a blockhead, at least a very extraordinary and singular youth, and one who has very little intercourse with his equals. As I neither like wine nor politics, I contrive to steal away, after some time, un+ perceived, from the dessert, and retire to my chamber to compose a few lines of my holiday task, which becomes a pleasure, solely because it is an occupation, or to doze over a rusty old novel; then, with singular success, I unite myself to the merry party, just as they are on the point of entering the drawing-room.

I am usually severely dismayed when I understand that we are to accept the invitation of some of our neighbours; and, feeling obliged to go, I solace myself with the reflection that I may, perhaps, in the course of purgatory, meet with some congenial spirit in the shape of a stranger. But all these frights are trifling and imaginary compared to the terror with which I heard it once proposed and unanimously resolved (for my alarm completely stopped my dissentient voice) that we should give a grand ball; and, to my additional consternation, give it on my birth-day. In vain did I protest, as soon as my utterance returned, that dancing was my utter abhorrence; that I neither knew steps nor time; and conjured them most earnestly, if they really wished to gratify me, to put off this entertainment, at least till I had gone to Eton, which would only occasion the delay of a day or two. All my objections were overruled; they were ascribed to my usual shyness and modesty. I, forsooth, should cut as good a figure as any body; how could I refuse, unless under pain of being laughed at by the whole county? Besides, it was necessary for me to lead off the ball; and they even went so far as to ask me, out of all the fair ladies, whom I would honour by requesting her hand. Resistance was vain; so I feigned acquiescence, looked more happy than usual as the day approached, and pretended great anxiety lest the artist should not arrive in time to chalk the floors, or lest an ill-natured fall of snow should totally prevent the intended fête. Little did the good people foresee my resolution, or they would have taken all bars and bolts far out of my reach. On the fatal evening, when I should have been employed in preparing myself for the gaiety, I secured the door of my bedroom, and remained