In the years 1696 and 1697, the silver currency of the kingdom being, by clipping, washing, grinding, filing, &c. reduced to about half its nominal value, acts of parliament were passed for its being called in, and re-coined; but whilst the re-coinage was going on exchequer bills were first issued, to supply the demands of trade. The quantity of silver re-coined, according to D’Avenant, from the old hammered money, amounted to 5,725,933_l._ It is worthy of remark, that through the difficulties experienced by the Bank of England (which had been established only three years,) during the re-coinage, they having taken the clipped silver at its nominal value, and guineas at an advanced price, bank notes were in 1697 at a discount of from 15 to 20 per cent. “During the re-coinage,” says D’Avenant, “all great dealings were transacted by tallies, bank-bills, and goldsmiths’ notes. Paper credit did not only supply the place of running cash, but greatly multiplied the kingdom’s stock; for tallies and bank-bills did to many uses serve as well, and to some better than gold and silver; and this artificial wealth which necessity had introduced, did make us less feel the want of that real treasure, which the war and our losses at sea had drawn out of the nation.” I am, &c. J. G. THE CHRISTMAS DAYS. _A Family Sketch._ Bring me a garland of holly, Rosemary, ivy, and bays; Gravity’s nothing but folly, Till after the Christmas day Fill out a glass of Bucellas; Here!--boys put the crown on my head: Now, boys!--shake hands--be good fellows, And all be--_good men_--when I’m dead. Come, girls, come! now for your kisses. Hearty ones--louder--loud--louder! How I’m surrounded with blisses! Proud men may here see a prouder. Now, you rogues, go kiss your mother:-- Ah! ah!--she won’t let you?--pho! pho! Gently--there, there now!--don’t smother:-- Old lady! come, _now_ I’ll kiss _you_. Here take the garland, and wear it; ‘Nay, nay!’ but you must, and you shall; For, _here’s such a kiss_!--come, don’t fear it; If you do--turn round to the wall. A kiss too for Number Eleven, The Newcome--the young Christmas berry-- My Alice!--who makes my girls seven, And makes merry Christmas more merry. Another good glass of Bucellas, While I’ve the crown on my head; Laugh on my good girls, and good fellows, Till it’s off--then off to bed. Hey!--now, for the Christmas holly, Rosemary, ivy, and bays; Gravity’s nothing but folly, Till after the Christmas days. _December 30, 1825._ NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR. Mean Temperature 37·47. * * * * * [Illustration: ~“The King drinks!”~]