Here come December and the brats again! what pain! rushing like untamed kittens o'er a cataract. Tables turn'd, bottles broke, cups crack'd—All conspire to add to my distractions, to shew their skill in Christmas pieces, and in fractions. How little dream'd I of the toil and trouble Which wait on those who dare to carry double! Why did I leave my life of singularity, In my excess of Christian love and charity? Too surely did I feel my courage falter At that sad step which led up to the altar. Since first I tied the matrimonial knot Each year has added to my luckless lot; I should not mind _one_ little babe, no more. But, _poínt du_ TWO, I don't want half a score; Yet still, in quick succession, lo! they rise, A pretty string of pains and penal-ties. [Illustration: _Family Ties._ ] From schoolmasters abroad the yearly bills Run high among life's unsurmounted _hills_, And pretty hillocks are those things call'd extras, At doubling which they're all so ambidextrous; Forgetting still, which greatly grieves my bowels, To send back silver forks, or spoons, or towels. Last, but not least, are those uncivil wars, Poetic license calls domestic jars, And which I find, though far from nice or fickle, Without exception, yield the worst of pickle. [Illustration] [Illustration] DECEMBER.—"THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT." Mamma had kept the house in Duke Street for more than two years. I recollected some of the chairs and tables, from dear old Squiggle, and the bowl in which I had made that famous rum-punch, the evening she went away, which she and my sisters left untouched, and I was obliged to drink after they were gone; but that's not to the purpose. Think of my sister Mary's luck! That chap, Waters, fell in love with her, and married her; and she now keeps her carriage, and lives in state near Squiggle. I offered to make it up with Waters; but he bears malice, and never will see or speak to me. He had the impudence, too, to say that he took in all letters for mamma at Squiggle; and that, as mine were all begging letters, he burned them, and never said a word to her concerning them. He allowed mamma fifty pounds a year, and, if she were not such a fool, she might have had three times as much; but the old lady was high and mighty, forsooth, and would not be beholden, even to her own daughter, for more than she actually wanted. Even this fifty pounds she was going to refuse; but when I came to live with her, of course I wanted pocket money as well as board and lodging, and so I had the fifty pounds for _my_ share, and eked out with it as well as I could.