The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by such associations,
and who was always more taken up with the text than the sentiment,
objected to the Oxonian's version of the carol: which he affirmed
was different from that sung at college. He went on, with the dry
perseverance of a commentator, to give the college reading, accompanied
by sundry annotations: addressing himself at first to the company at
large; but finding their attention gradually diverted to other talk, and
other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of auditors diminished,
until he concluded his remarks, in an under voice, to a fat-headed old
gentleman next him, who was silently engaged in the discussion of a huge
plateful of turkey.*

*[5] See Note E.

The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an
epitome of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders.
A distinguished post was allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host
termed it; being, as he added, "the standard of old English hospitality,
and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expectation."

There were several dishes quaintly decorated, and which had evidently
something traditionary in their embellishments; but about which, as I
did not like to appear over curious, I asked no questions. I could
not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with peacocks'
feathers, in imitation of the tail of that bird, which overshadowed a
considerable tract of the table. This, the Squire confessed, with
some little hesitation, was a pheasant-pie, though a peacock-pie was
certainly the most authentical; but there had been such a mortality
among the peacocks this season, that he could not prevail upon himself
to have one killed.*