March'd boldly up, like our train-band,
Presented and away."*


* Sir John Suckling.

The dinner was served up in the great hall, where the Squire always held
his Christmas banquet. A blazing, crackling fire of logs had been heaped
on to warm the spacious apartment, and the flame went sparkling and
wreathing up the wide-mouthed chimney. The great picture of the crusader
and his white horse had been profusely decorated with greens for the
occasion; and holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed around the helmet
and weapons on the opposite wall, which I understood were the arms of
the same warrior. I must own, by the by, I had strong doubts about the
authenticity of painting and armour as having belonged to the crusader,
they certainly having the stamp of more recent days; but I was told that
the painting had been so considered time out of mind; and that as to the
armour, it had been found in a lumber room, and elevated to its present
situation by the Squire, who at once determined it to be the armour of
the family hero; and as he was absolute authority on all such subjects
to his own household, the matter had passed into current acceptation. A
sideboard was set out just under this chivalric trophy, on which was
a display of plate that might have vied (at least in variety) with
Belshazzar's parade of the vessels of the Temple: "flagons, cans, cups,
beakers, goblets, basins, and ewers;" the gorgeous utensils of good
companionship, that had gradually accumulated through many generations
of jovial housekeepers. Before these stood the two Yule candles, beaming
like two stars of the first magnitude: other lights were distributed in
branches, and the whole array glittered like a firmament of silver.