We must give a single verse of one of the ancient French provincial _noëls_, for the purpose of introducing our readers to a strange species of chanted burden; and then we must stop. It is directed to be sung _sur un chant joyeux_, and begins thus: "Quand Dieu naquit à Noël, Dedans la Judée, On vit ce jour solemnel La joie inondée; Il n'étoit ni petit ni grand Qui n'apportât son présent Et n'o, n'o, n'o, n'o, Et n'offrit, frit, frit, Et n'o, n'o, et n'offrit, Et n'offrit sans cesse Toute sa richesse." Our readers are no doubt aware that the carol-sheets still make their annual appearance at this season, not only in the metropolis, but also in Manchester, Birmingham, and perhaps other towns. In London they pass into the hands of hawkers, who wander about our streets and suburbs enforcing the sale thereof by--in addition to the irresistible attraction of the wood-cuts with which they are embellished--the further recommendation of their own versions and variations of the original tunes, yelled out in tones which could not be heard without alarm by any animals throughout the entire range of Nature, except the domesticated ones, who are "broken" to it. For ourselves, we confess that we are not thoroughly broken yet, and experience very uneasy sensations at the approach of one of these alarming choirs. "'T is said that the lion will turn and flee From a maid in the pride of her purity." We would rather meet him under the protection of a group of London carol-singers. We would undertake to explore the entire of central Africa, well provisioned and in such company, without the slightest apprehension, excepting such as was suggested by the music itself. By these gentry a very spirited competition is kept up in the article of annoyance with the hurdy-gurdies, and other instruments of that class, which awaken the echoes of all our streets, and furnish a sufficient refutation of the assertion that we are not a musical nation. We have heard it said that the atmosphere of London is highly impregnated with coal-smoke and barrel-organs. The breath of ballad-singers should enter into the account at this season. The sketch from life which we have given of one of these groups will convey to our readers a very lively notion of the carol-singers of London, and supply them with a hint as to the condition in this flourishing metropolis of that branch of the fine arts. Our friends will perceive that this is a family of artists, from the oldest to the youngest. The children are born to an inheritance of song, and begin to enter upon its enjoyment in the cradle. That infant in arms made his _débût_ before the public a day or two after he was born, and is already an accomplished chorister; and the hopeful boy who is howling by his mother's side acquits himself as becomes the heir-at-law to parents who have sung through the world, and the next in reversion to his father's fiddle.