Holidays & Happy-Days.

by Hamish Hendry.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

Little children are usually snug in bed when the first holiday of the year arrives. It comes at midnight when all is dark out of doors.

Sometimes the weather is very cold, here in England, with snow upon the ground; and as it nears midnight on the 31st December there is a great silence beneath the stars. The children are in bed; but in most homes there are grown-up people--fathers, mothers, uncles or aunts--who sit late and watch the clock. They watch; and when the clock strikes twelve they know that the first day of the New Year has arrived.

Then it is no longer silent out of doors. The bells are ringing loudly, and ringing merrily; they are ringing a welcome to the Stranger. So the grown-up people, who have been watching the clock, rise up smiling and wish each other a Happy New Year. The father says to the mother: "I wish you a Happy New Year, my dear," and in saying this they shake hands, and kiss each other. Then the mother, if she has children in bed, goes upstairs. They are all asleep; so she does not waken them. She simply kisses them, each one, and smiles as she whispers: "A Happy New Year to all of you, my dears." That is how the New Year arrives in England. In Scotland there is more ceremony. There it used to be the custom for the whole household to sit up till twelve o'clock and bring in the New Year with singing and frolic. But that custom is dying out.

You children, I hope, get to know about the New Year in the morning. You find that everybody is looking happy, and wishing happiness to other people. Even although the sun is not shining there is brightness in the house and in the street. People when they meet shake hands and joke and laugh. Your aunt will give you a good hug, and more than likely your uncle will put his hand into his pocket and give you something; something round and bright; something that will make you smile. Then you learn that the New Year brings gifts as well as gladness.

But nowadays the giving of presents is not so common as it used to be.

Far back in English history the grown-up people gave each other gifts on New Year's Day, and some of these gifts were very beautiful and very costly. Diamond necklaces, gold caskets, jewelled swords, embroidered mantles--these were the kind of gifts which rich people gave to each other at the feast of the New Year. Our English Kings and Queens, in the old days, received many such precious gifts. Queen Elizabeth got so many valuable presents in this way that a list of them was kept upon parchment, and in the history books it may still be read.

This custom of giving rich presents to rich people on New Year's Day exists no longer in England; and that is well. For in many cases these costly gifts were given not from kindness but from selfishness; the gift-givers wanted some favour in return. Now, it is an ill thing to begin a New Year with a spirit of greediness. None of you children, I am sure, will do so. Be thankful that you have got the gift of another New Year's Day. It is the first clean page of a fine new book in which you can write just what you please. Write something cheerful; and see to it that there are no blots.

TWELFTH DAY.

The sixth day in each year is called Twelfth Day. That is a little odd is it not? Well, the reason is this: In very ancient times there was a great Christian Festival which began upon Christmas Day and lasted for twelve days. It was called the Feast of the Nativity, because it was held in honour of the coming of Christ to earth, and both the first day of the feast and the last day were held very sacred. On the last, or twelfth day, special honour was given to the Three Kings who are spoken of in the New Testament as the Three Wise Men who came from the east to Jerusalem, led by a star. The star guided these Three Kings to Bethlehem where they saw the young child Jesus and offered gifts to him of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

At first this feast, which we call Epiphany, was of a very solemn nature, but in the Middle Ages it lost a great deal of its sacred character. The festival of the Three Kings became noisy and frolicsome, and sometimes it was arranged in the form of a little play.

In this play three friars or monks were dressed up like Kings, with crowns upon their heads, and a golden star was carried before them.

Within the church, near the altar, a manger would be arranged with an ox and an a.s.s, in imitation of the manger at Bethlehem. Here, also, was the child Christ and his mother. To them would enter the Three Kings, accompanied by a merry crowd, and gifts were offered to the Babe--gold, frankincense and myrrh. It was a pretty sight, perhaps, but not at all devout.

In later times still, Twelfth Day was almost wholly given up to frolic and feasting. Special plays were written to amuse the people, and it is probably for that reason we have Shakspere's play called "Twelfth Night." The chief custom of this merry day was the election of a King of the Bean; sometimes there was also a Queen. No doubt this making of a King had its connection with the honour done to the Three Kings in the early festival; it may also be connected with an old Roman custom. Here is how the King was elected on Twelfth Day. A large cake, called Twelfth Cake, was baked for the day, and inside the cake a bean was placed.

When all the company were gathered to the feast the cake was cut up, and the fortunate person who got the piece of cake with the bean in it was made King of the Bean, and had charge of the revels. Sometimes the names of the company were put in a bowl, and each one received a piece of the cake as his or her name was drawn by lot.

There was much fun and laughter, you may be sure, as the names were being drawn, the cake cut up, and the bean discovered. It is the kind of fun which you children would have enjoyed. For the Twelfth Cake, in the old days, was usually very large, baked into very queer shapes, and always very nice to eat. Nowadays, the cakes upon Twelfth Day have become much smaller, and in some households this merry day is forgotten altogether. You will agree with me, children, that this is a mistake. It is a mistake to forget the good old customs; and it is doubly a mistake when the custom is made cheerful with laughter and cake.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

Not very much is known about St. Valentine. Indeed, there were several saints of that name who were set down in the calendar for loving remembrance on the Fourteenth day of February. One of them was a martyr, and died for the Christian faith at Rome. But these saints have no connection with the ceremonies of St. Valentine's Day except that the priests of the early Christian Church set that particular day apart for a special feast. This feast was meant to take the place of certain ceremonies practised by the common people of the old world in their worship of the Roman G.o.ds. But the people did not easily forget their old customs, and some of these were, until recent times, practised on St. Valentine's Day in a new form.

One of these customs was for young men and maidens to cast lots in the choice of partners. Upon the eve of St. Valentine's Day, in England, it was usual for young people to meet together, each one writing his or her name upon a piece of paper. When this was done the papers were rolled up tightly and put into two bowls. Then each young man drew the name of a girl and she was his _Valentine_, and each girl drew the name of a young man and he was her _Valentine_. It was little more than a merry mode of choosing partners for the festival of St. Valentine; but sometimes the young folks took this choice by lot quite seriously, and the partnership ended in marriage.

With the English poets St. Valentine's Day has always been a favourite.

You will find it mentioned by Chaucer, Shakspere, and many another of lesser note. At one time it was not uncommon for a young man to send a set of verses to his _Valentine_ on the morning of the 14th of February.

Most of these were very poor verses, but sometimes a true poet sent a greeting to his Valentine. As when Drayton sent these happy lines:

Muse, bid the Morn awake, Sad winter now declines, Each bird doth choose a mate; This day's St. Valentines For that good Bishop's sake Get up and let us see What beauty it shall be That fortune us a.s.signs.

Nowadays St. Valentine's Day has lost nearly all its popularity; certainly, it has lost all its merry charm. The time is not so distant--your fathers and mothers may remember it--when the postman's bag was laden with valentines upon St. Valentine's Day. Some of them were in large embossed envelopes and the valentines themselves were glittering things. There was nearly always a little gilt Cupid with his bow and arrows, and the mottoes and verses were always very very sentimental. Some of the valentines, also, were strange and ugly as they came from the postman's bag. These were what is called "mock"

valentines, and the people who received them were sometimes very angry.

Now the sending of valentines has fallen into disfavour, especially the pretty ones. As for the others, the ugly mock valentines, they are very ill-natured and foolish. Have nothing to do with them; they are not worthy of happy St. Valentine's Day.

PANCAKE TUESDAY

Pancake Tuesday is quite a nice name is it not? But it is not the only name for this holiday. It is also called Shrove Tuesday, Shrovetide, Fasting-tide, and Fasten-e'en or Fastern's-e'en. I shall try to explain to you why it has all these names. There is, as you must know, a great festival of the Christian Church called Easter. It is the festival of the resurrection of Christ, and to prepare for this solemn festival the ancient Church set apart a period of fasting which we call Lent. This fasting-time begins upon Ash Wednesday, and on the morning of the previous day, in the old times, people went to the priests to confess their sins and get shriven. Hence it was called Shrove or Shriven Tuesday; hence, also, it was called Fasten-e'en, because it was upon the eve of the Great Fast.

After attending church in the morning the people were permitted to enjoy themselves to their heart's desire all the rest of Shrove Tuesday, and before the rigorous fasting-time of Lent began. During the Middle Ages, indeed, this merry-tide lasted for several days, and some idea of the jollity of Shrovetide can be gathered from the way in which the Carnival is held upon the Continent, even now. In England, during the old times before the Reformation, there were great feasts during Shrovetide, and all the old English games and pastimes went right merrily. Some of these pastimes were very rough and cruel--such as c.o.c.k-fighting and bull-baiting--and would not be permitted to-day. But there were also such games as football and hand-ball; and in certain towns in Scotland the game of hand-ball is still played, sometimes very roughly, upon Fastern's-e'en.

Of all the jollity and junketting of that festive time very little remains to us; almost nothing except the practice of baking and eating pancakes upon Shrove Tuesday. But nowadays the ceremonies connected with Pancake Tuesday are not so important and picturesque as they used to be.

In the old days--the days when Shakspere lived--a bell was rung in the morning called the Pancake Bell. At the sound of the bell the preparation of the pancakes began. Wheaten flour mixed with water, spices, eggs and other nice things were dropped into the frying-pan as it sizzled over the fire. Then followed the tossing of the pancakes.

This was a time of great fun, because it required a good deal of skill to toss the pancakes and catch them in the pan. In giving them a quick twirl round the pancakes sometimes dropped into the fire. But that did not greatly matter, because there were always plenty of pancakes for everybody; and also plenty of fun in the eating of them.

There was only one person in the company who did not enjoy the fun. For the first pancake tossed in the pan was given to that member of the party who was considered the most lazy. It was seldom eaten, you may be sure, as the Lazy One found it the best plan to run away and hide. But it was a merry day, especially for young people at school and college.

At Westminster School, for instance, the cook used to bring his frying-pan with a pancake in it right into the schoolroom and toss it among the boys. In the scramble that followed the boy who captured the pancake unbroken and carried it to the Dean received a guinea for his cleverness. That was a jolly game and it is only one of many that used to be popular on Pancake Tuesday. 'Tis a pity that much of this merry-making has disappeared.

ST. DAVID'S DAY.

There is a little corner of Wales which is very dear to all true Welsh folk. It is very close to the sea, near St. David's Head, and its interest gathers round an ancient cathedral of red stone and the holy man who is buried in this cathedral. This old building, with others, stands beside a little stream called the Alan, and here also is the city of St. David's, now a small village. It is all very lonely nowadays, this peaceful shrine near the restless sea, but in the Middle Ages it was a busy place. There were the comings and goings of great Kings and Queens with their followers, and many pilgrims of lesser name visited this shrine to do homage to the memory of the Welsh Saint. There are still many people who visit St. David's, the ancient Menevia, and the cathedral founded by the patron saint of Wales.

A great number of legends--stories of marvel and miracle--have been told about St. David. An angel is said to have been his constant attendant in his youth, and to have ministered to all his wants. In later years he began to preach, making long journeys through Wales and England, and visiting Jerusalem. When he preached to the people, so the old legends tell us, a snow-white dove sat upon the shoulder of the saint. The power to work miracles also was ascribed to St. David; he is said to have healed all diseases, and even raised up the dead. Many other strange and marvellous things are set down in the old chronicles as having been accomplished by the saint.

It is impossible to believe all these tales, and what we actually know to be true regarding St. David can be told in a few words. What is certain is that he was a great preacher and organiser in the early church, and his powers were so much approved that he was made Archbishop of Wales, taking up his residence at St. David's. We have also been told by the old chroniclers that he was a very good man, and this we can well believe. One of his biographers says of him that he was a guide to the religious, a life to the poor, a support to orphans, a protection to widows, a father to the fatherless. He is said to have died in A.D.

601.

Having been such a n.o.ble and good man the Welsh people have chosen to make St. David their patron saint. On the first day of March, in every year, they hold in remembrance the old preacher and teacher who lived so long ago beside the little stream in Menevia. They also keep in remembrance, by so doing, all that is good and n.o.ble in the history of the Welsh race. That is surely a right thing to do. For although Wales is now a part of Great Britain it has a history of its own, a language of its own, and a literature of its own. It is well that these things should be held in remembrance, both by the Welsh folk at home and those who have travelled into far lands, and they set apart St. David's Day as a special day for doing honour to all that is best in the ancient history of their country. It is a happy custom, alike for old and young.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

The national emblem of Ireland is a plant, the leaf of which has three small leaflets. This is called the Shamrock. It is beloved by Irish folks at all times, but most of them wear it conspicuously upon the 17th day of March. St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland, and that is St. Patrick's Day. There are very good reasons why the Saint should be honoured by Irishmen, yet it is a curious fact that he was not born in Ireland. Indeed, there is some doubt regarding both the time and place of his birth. Some people think that the Saint was born in France, while others hold that his birthplace was at Kilpatrick, near Dunbarton, in Scotland.

But this we know for certain that St. Patrick, when he was a lad of sixteen years of age, was captured by pirates on his father's farm and carried by them to Ireland, where he was sold into slavery. The Irish Chief who bought the lad lived in County Antrim, near Sleamish Mountain, and he employed Patrick in herding swine. All the people who lived in that part of Ireland at this time--about the end of the 4th century--were heathen. Now, young Patrick had been trained by his father and grandfather in the Christian religion, and it made him very unhappy to think that his master, and the people of Ireland, were ignorant of the true faith; he was also unhappy when he thought of his home and his friends. But after six years he escaped from slavery, and sailed away from Ireland.