The whist players dropped their cards, the hall occupants withdrew to either side, and the elderly parties around the squire ceased their conversation to give full attention to the antics of these new merrymakers. The herald bowed to the squire and company and waved his wand, and in capered a queer, uncouth figure in mask and flowing wig and whiskers. The young children burst into peals of laughter at his grotesque movements, and he had to uphold his authority and gain silence for himself by thumping the floor vigorously with his tall staff. He had a right to demand attention, for he was Father Christmas; his round, cheery face proclaimed it, even without his speech which he proceeded to make. "Here come I, old Father Christmas, Welcome or welcome not, I 'ope hold Father Christmas Will never be forgot; I bring the cold of winter time, That kisses red the nose; I bring the snow, the rain, the frost That bites and stings the toes; But, then, I'm welcome anyway Because I am the seer That brings the nuts, and cake, and pies Of happy Yuletide cheer." Father Christmas executed a few joyous capers, but was interrupted by the herald who, with a little fear on his countenance, stated: "Father Christmas, thee must stand aside a bit for I think I see an enemy of thine and of our good Christmas cheer a-coming." Father Christmas moved aside with a shake of his hoary locks and muttered: "Ah, 'tez the Saracen, I fear, I would our bold St. George were near." All eyes were fastened on the door through which the valorous Turk, in his green turban, was entering, his face a little more ferocious by the wound received from St. George's sword in the contest on the public road. The Saracen has some difficulty in expressing himself in good English, but that was to be attributed to his Turkish training. Flourishing his sword he began: "Bally, bully mally can Hodak 'ee St. George ann, Baresesh tally man, Abdul caliph Hassan!" "Pray, speak in English, brave Turk, Let's 'ear what mischiefs in thee lurk." The herald had spoken in response to his heathen jargon, and the Saracen scowled upon him hideously and answered: "'Tis plain 'ee cannot understand The language of the Turkey land And so I'll tell as plain I can In the words of the Englishman. Here come I, a Turkey snipe, Come from the Turkey land to fight, And if St. George do meet me here I'll try 'is courage without fear." The Turk stalked around in brave manner, when a new arrival, the redoubtable St. George, entered. A cheer went up from the younger element of the squire's visitors, and even the whist players clapped their hands, for the Turk was no favourite, and did they not love St. George, the patron saint of England? St. George bows to the spectators, and by his speech does not appear very modest over his great victories.