" Your horse don't jump amiss, stranger,
though I don't think much of the big 'uns in
a general way."

"Get away with 'ee, you young scamp,"
cried the grandfather; and then they all went
into the cottage.

Great were the preparations. Green boughs
and flowers adorned the walls and roof, in
brilliant yet imperfect imitation of holly-boughs
and miseltoe.

The hostess, a handsome, middle-aged
woman, had given up active service to a
crowd of daughters, granddaughters, neighbours,
and friends, who surrounded her. She
sat at ease in an Indian cane chair, until she
saw, and came forward to greet the strangers.

"Who could have thought," observed
Martyn, " that it would have been possible to
be so comfortable in the Bush!"

A great shout of "Here comes Aunt Mary!"
brought every one out into the verandah, and
slowly trolling up to the door came a high-
wheeled dog-cart landau, in which sat, beside
the driver, a fair-haired young Australian, of
the true colonial type. Aunt Mary was a
pretty woman, in a fashionable light mourning
bonnet. Her double parasol looked not a
little incongruous and droll amid such wild
scenery. Two varmint little boys, in sky-blue
plaids and kilts, were perched behind
the dray. " Here we are," cried Aunt Mary's
husband; " did the last hundred miles in
two days—not bad work for Bush roads.
Now, young ones, who'll help to see what
we 've brought from town? " There was a
tremendous rush at the boot of the dog-cart. A
cry of " Uncle Dick and Aunt Sally " made a
slight diversion; but, as these new comers
came on horseback, and brought nothing but
a few head of game, the dog-cart proved the
more attractive. By this time guests dropped
in thick and threefold.

It is a rather degrading confession for poor
human nature, but Christmas Day, anywhere,
would be very blank without the eating and
drinking. This is especially so in the Bush,
where there are no old associations to fall back
upon. So our friends, leaving the relations to
exchange news, walked about sniffing the
various delightful odours that arose from the
detached kitchen; where an old woman and
a sailor cook quarrelled and worked away
with extraordinary unanimity.

Instead of romantic, sentimental confidences,
the conversation of our two young
squatters ran on more substantial topics:—
"By Jove, Bullar, did you see the sucking
pig?"

' No, but I spied the pudding! It fills the
largest copper. Did you hear the hutkeeper
asking for a shirt-sleeve to boil the men's
dumplings in?"

"No; but I saw him walking down to the
servants' huts with a great side of beef."

"Well, we have dropped into clover; but
what a pretty girl! Is she one of the
daughters?"

At length, as the sun was descending,
dinner-hour arrived; it having been deferred
some time, much to the ire of the cooks, in
order to give every expected guest a chance.

When Martyn exclaimed carelessly, " What
a pretty girl! " he registered a vow to sit
beside her at dinner—and he kept it. During
the repast, his attentions to Miss Jane Paige
were unremitting. All the news which they
were possessed of, had to be retailed entirely
by Bullar.

When the repast was over, the old patriarch
rose to make his accustomed oration;

"And now, my children and vriends," he
said, " let us drink a Merry Christmas and a
Happy New Year to all absent vriends, and
especially all vriends over the watter. I drink
it with all my heart; though yet eight year
ago I little thought—not I—to be able to
have such a party round me a' Christmas
Day. Eight year ago I left Devon a beggar
and an outcast. But now, thanks be to the
Lord, I know all was for the best."

Three days afterwards, as Bullar and Martyn
rode back together, the former exclaimed,
"Strange country this, where beggars get on
horseback and don't ride to the devil."

"Of course not," cried Martyn, " don't you
see why it is? A man can't take so long a
journey double, and a wife is his salvation in
this country."

"When do you mean to be saved, then?"

Martyn blushed. There was an awkward
pause. Bullar muttered something about
love at first sight, rapid courtships, &c.;
when Martyn broke out with; " Well, then,
if, when you return home to England, you 'll
promise not to break it too abruptly to my
aunt, Lady Pimminey I 'll confide to you
that—"

"What? " gasped Bullar, with affected surprise
at what he knew he was going to hear.

"I mean to marry Jane Paige!"

"And she—"

'' Intends—if eyes do not flash falsehoods,
and blushes are not perjuries dyed crimson—
to marry me."

Sure enough when Bullar returned to this
country, he had to report that Miss Jane
Paige had become Mrs. Martyn. She and her
spouse spent every succeeding Christmas Day
under his own roof in the Bush.

HOUSEHOLD CHRISTMAS CAROLS.

"Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy-laden,
and I will give you rest."

Chorus.
Bright thoughts and hopes are now awake,
As constant as the circling years;
They penetrate each grief, and make
A golden radiance of our tears.
In that confused, yet heavenly shrine,
The soul unearthly music hears;
The Eastern Star sheds rays divine
On our afflictions and our fears;
And now amidst a gleaming halo stands
The Infant Christ—and stretches forth his hands!