This brings us to the supper-table, and the Christmas tree, with its blossoms of light--a very peculiar species of shrub:--we have heard of box-trees, plane-trees, lady's slippers, and sun-flowers, but never remember to have seen or heard of a toy and candle-tree, figured in any work on botany; nor should we have thought our little friends had ever beheld one before, for the brilliant supper seemed but small attraction compared with the illuminated fir--all eyes appeared attracted to the quarter in which it stood; and when the youthful company were introduced to it, after the banquet, we felt glad the lower boughs were out of the reach of the younger branches, or they might, in their eagerness, have pulled it out of the disguised tub. As it was, some of the recipients took the fruit intended for others:--for instance, Stephen Sharp ate all Miss Standby's basket of sweets, and then demanded the story-book that had his name attached to it. All the fruit was not edible, for we saw an apple that tasted very much of the wood, being full of pips resembling doll's tea-things; whilst, upon suction, the pears emitted musical sounds; and a biffin, like a pincushion, had the flavour of bran--probably it was bran-new. [Illustration] The tree, now stript, is quite devoid of interest; for, upon Mr. Lark's starting some fun in the corner, none lingered by, not even to listen to the bird-organ, that appeared to play under the table. Yes! there was Lark, at it again--doing anything to please!--Generous Lark!--his face covered with a white handkerchief, a portion tucked in his mouth, over all wearing a pair of spectacles, with pupils (currants abstracted from a mince-pie) stuck thereon, causing the Lark to look very curious and odd--the children wondering what he will be at next!--for now, you must know, he has gone to prepare another excitement; being in the drawing-room, whilst the visitors are in the parlour--curious beyond all description, beseeching the junior Mr. Brown, who is standing with his back against the door, to prevent egress, just to permit them to depart; which, after a slight contest, he does--they rushing, pell-mell, to the drawing-room, there to find an old birch-broom blazing in the grate, and the recess covered with two sheets suspended by forks. In front of the sheets is a table; whilst in front of that table, stand the wondering little crowd, speculating as to what the burning broom can have to do with it, when a dwarf old dame appears, through a slit in the drapery--as perfect a dwarf as ever breathed,--but three feet high, and so really true that no one for a moment doubts her identity or vitality. "She is a Witch!" cry all, that has come down the chimney. The dame bows acquiescence, with numberless courtseys, telling the little company of her immense age and adventures--recounting her history:--about the large family she kept in the shoe; about the refractory pig, that would not