was placed before the fire, and as I wondered why we were left in the dark, the Admiral came in, carrying a taper and a bottle of brandy, which he poured all over the almonds and raisins, then set light to the spirits, and all the large dish was on fire; such beautiful blue flames were kindled, licking the pan round like fiery tongues, then darting and curling up like snakes, lighting all the room fitfully, and casting a lurid glare on the children's faces, as they danced round it. The fun then began: such dashing at the burning almonds, such snapping at the raisins dropping liquid fire, as they threw them about with their fingers tipped by blue flames; such screaminghalf fright and half pleasure. Reginald's hand was never out of the dish, scattering fire in every direction, till the dish was empty. Candles reappeared, and the noise subsided for a while. Mrs. Parsons now entered, carrying a bullet-pudding, and a large kitchenknife-a horrid instrument! I never see a knife without feeling a cold chill running through me! the knife is in reality the natural enemy the apple: I always sympathised with a king called James, of whom I heard mistress tell the children; King James never could bear the sight of "cold steel" from his birth. It is a very natural feeling. To return to the bullet-pudding: it was formed in the shape of a solid, well-pressed pyramid of dry flour, on the conical top of which was placed a leaden bullet, or a boy's marble; each child, by turns, cuts a slice of the flour down, and the child whose cut brings down the bullet, is bound to hunt for it in the dish in which it has buried itself as it fell, and to bring it out with his teeth! At first they cut boldly enough; but as the pyramid diminished, and got undermined, and the bullet began to topple over, the children became more cautious. Thompson brought it down, and a fine figure he was when he found the bullet, his hair, face, and eyelashes all powdered, like a rat in a meal-tub. I was laughing fit to kill myself at the drollery of this sport, when I saw the table and dish taken away, and a great wooden tub-a washing-tub-put into the middle of the room; I heard a shout raised of "Now for the apples! now for the apples!" re-echoed from all sides. I felt agitated, I knew not why. Reginald, seizing both dishes of apples, hurried us to the brink of the tub. I just remember the flash of the lights gleaming in the dark, cold water beneath me,-when, without the slightest warning, he plunged us all headlong in! The shock, the surprise, were overwhelming for some seconds; but after a while, finding the cold freshness of the sparkling waters rather agreeable than otherwise, and having always been a hardy apple of my kind in the summer showers, I rallied; and entering into the merriment of those around me, I bobbed and danced about with very considerable spirit, while the children were trying to catch us in their mouths, without being allowed to use their hands. I gave the young creatures some trouble in this sport, bobbing against their fresh, wet faces, till they were tired with laughing. I saw them catch a pippin or two that had not my activity in eluding the foe. However, as all things must have an end, when I saw my friend, Reginald, trying his chance, and boldly diving after me, I felt I could not fall into better hands; I no longer avoided him, I yielded, and he drew me out by the stalk, in triumph, with his teeth! This ended the frolics; the party was all thoroughly tired out, as if it had been work instead of play, and it was ten o'clock. Reginald wiped my face and his own, and slipped me into his jacketpocket. THE CATARACT OF LODORE.* HOW DOES THE WATER COME DOWN AT LODORE ? My little boy asked me Thus, once on a time; To tell him in rhyme. Anon at the word, There first came one daughter, And then came another To second and third The request of their brother, And to hear how the water Comes down at Lodore, They had seen it before. That so I should sing, From its fountains In the mountains, SOUTHEY. * A celebrated cascade, near Keswick, in Cumberland, with a fall of 100 feet. And through the wood-shelter, Hurry skurry. Here it comes sparkling, Of its deep descent. Its caverns and rocks among. Rising and leaping, Sinking and creeping, Eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, Turning and twisting, Confounding, astounding, Dizzing and deafening the car with its sound. Collecting, projecting, Receding and speeding, And shocking and rocking, And darting and parting, And threading and spreading, And rattling and battling, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, And clattering and battering and shattering, And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, |