I
had not been seated many minutes by the comfortable hearth of the
worthy old cavalier before I found myself as much at home as if I
had been one of the family.
Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up
in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax,
and around which were several family portraits decorated with
holly and ivy. Besides the accustomed lights, two great wax
tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were
placed on a highly polished beaufet among the family plate. The
table was abundantly spread with substantial fare; but the squire
made his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in
milk with rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for
Christmas Eve. I was happy to find my old friend, minced pie, in
the retinue of the feast and, finding him to be perfectly
orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predilection, I
greeted him with all the warmth wherewith we usually greet an old
and very genteel acquaintance.
The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humors of an
eccentric personage whom Mr. Bracebridge always addressed with
the quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight brisk
little man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor.
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