SAMUEL'S CHRISTMAS DAY.

Matamata Record, Volume VI, Issue 499, 24 December 1923, Page 2

SAMUEL'S CHRISTMAS DAY.

(By " Grkfiano,";) Writing in his diary on December 25, Hio'ti, that quaint old jourualiser, Samuel Pepys, says this of the day: " Lay pretty long in bed, and then rose, leaving my wife desirous to sleep, having sat up till four this morning seeing her maid.- make mince pies. 1 to church where our parson. . . . made a good sermon. Then home and dined well on some good ribbs of beef rousted, and mince pics. . . '. any my heart full of true joy; and thanks to God Almighty for the goodness of my condition' at this day." Now-, one may wonder why a Christmas article, written in this year of grace 1928 and more than two and u-half centuries since this entry of Pepys' was penned, should, nevertheless, carry it by way of preface. The reason is because the few words referred to comprise an epitome of volumes that might have been written concerning the proper way to celebrate Christmas and the true spirit that, should lie beneath the celebration. In the first place, the dear old diarist; knew the value of rising on Christmas morning thoroughly rested and refreshed. He had a big day before him. what with church, "roasted ribbs and mince pies," to say nofhing of the after dinner teaching of a song. "It is decreed," to his wife and a friend, " which song pleased him mightily." Then he " walked alone on foot to the Temple, thinking to have seen a play all alone: but there, missing of any bills, concluded there was none, and so back home; and there with my brother reducing the names of. all my books to an alphabet, and then to suppo.r and to bed."

But to return to our muttons, or rather to the " roasted ribbs,'' as said before, Pepys knew the value of not getting up* too early on Christmas Day, and his wife seemed to know that value even better. Experience had taught him that one should not make any harder work of a holiday than couid be helped. Dow many of us to-day would benefit by the practice of Pepys? # Watch a Christmas picnic party! Up betimes, cutting sandwiches and so on; getting the children ready, most of them irritable and disagreeable; then a scrambled breakfast followed by'a wild rush to the car that '< connects with the eight o'clock boat for Bayswater! Yes, some of them start quite as,early as eight! There s nothing like getting in a good long day on the nice hot beach, you know Then the frantic (lurry at the ferries! The worming and the squirming in the ticket queue; the hustle and bustle at the turnstiles; the jamming land cramming at the gangway! All on board at last, disgruntled; and dishovelled. Some find seats and some don't but its all the same. It is a beautiful summer morning, the sky an Italian blue, the. harbour a translucent green and all around the chits are crimson with the flowers ot Christmas. But these things are ifc the main lost upon the picnickers. There may be peace on' earth, but it certainly 'doesn't exist on that boat. The children after the 'flurry are crosscr than ever. Willie with his spade has banged little Tom over a part of his anatomy more tender than dangerous, and Tom has replied by hurling his bucket at Willie's head. D misses and goes over the side, and Tom sets up a howl as he sees a Christmas present float away in the bosom, of the Waitemata. This incident starts all others going, and soon pandemonium reigns among the little party. Father, who is metaphorically whipping the kitten because the party is going to a deity-forsaken place like Mil ford, instead of to that nice little beach near the hotel at Devoiiport, starts literally whipping the kids instead. After reducing them to submission and mother to hysterics, he finds that in his heat he has allowed his pipe to get cold and that he has no matches. He goes off to procure some', but by this time everyone is too busy to attend to him, for the boat is almost half-way J across and every man, woman and child .on board has begun to think of getting off it as quickly as possible. They are all 'grabbing one another's things and knocking one another over and jumping on each other's frames in a wild endeavour to get to that side of the boat that they think it is going to berth on. In the melee father gets detached from his party. He becomes so detached in fact that he pinches the. arm of another lady taking her for mother. Mother refuses to believe this, however, when they are once more united. Eventually they i>et to the train of trams too late to find any vacant seats. They crush themselves on to platforms and under the chairs and anywhere else where they find room. The train starts! It pel's half-way up the hill when it is discovered that Percy, aged five, is missing. The precocious Percy is discerned sitting on the wharf enjoying the mixed bathing, quite oblivious of the picnic party which is clamouring for the conductor to stop the tram. The.conductor responds to its entreaties by ejaculating "No chance!" At the top of the hill, however, the trams stop and Percy is duly rescued in good time to catch the next tram. One feels that one ought to draw a veil over the day that follows. Father sullen, blinking ill the blinking sun and wishing that the blinking picnic had been held at Devonport, " there's a nice little strip of sand there near the pub." Mother alternating between moments _of moroseness and periods of peevishness, and, all the time, thinking of father and " that woman." The children in various stages of petulancy falling out and falling in; Retting into deep water and mischief; throwing up each other's misdeeds and their dinner of sandwiches which were mostly sand. And the return trip—a replica in many respects to that out, except that everyone is ten times more fagged and, fretful. Then home, and because father has been lost on the way, it devolves on mother to send the children to bed neither m peace nor harmony. It may be argued that the father referred to. in the fact that he had a large family to amuse, is in an entirely different category to Pepvs. But the writer has seen married o.bunlep and single people spendinfi' •heir holidays with lust as much rush •0 bustle.' Not for Samuel! TI--i,,rti* long in bed and then continued lis rest in church. Sauntering home (fa dines on his " ribbs " and his mince m'es and bis heart full of true loy. Of course, one is not to inmly • bat his heart"'was on the menu. But; one. would naturally think that it would be not onlv his heart; that would be full after Christmas dinner. But. at any rote from whatever course \\n realised the goodness of his condition. fContinued at Foot of Next Column.*)

But one can picture the Caroline gentleman going to the harpsichord, after dinner, and with his plump little wife and the, more or less, mysterious friend singing that song which he said "pleased him mightily." Then, presumably leaving his wife to entertain the friend, ho walked all alone on foot to the Temple, where once m.ore all alone, he expected to see a play. Note the love of taking things quietly—no jostling with the madding crowd for Samuel, but just a desire to be by himself and quietly to drink in alt the interesting details of the streets and the stage. And yet one could not say. that he has during the/day been in any way unsociable. Ho has earned out ail the duties of the occasion. Enjoyed both a Christmas sermon and a dinner. Entertained friend and relation royally and whilod.away an hour or two with story and with song. Then the final interesting touch. He would not let the day be entirely unproductive, so he gets' bis library, that which he probably, after his wife, loved most in the World, in order and then to supper and bed. No nocturnal revel-lings-—just finishing the' day at quietly as it was begun. And a great many of us, perhaps, on Christmas Day could take a leaf out of Samuel's book. •