“SOVEREIGNS WILL BE TAKEN, during the Christmas holidays, and as long as any body will bring them to SADLER’S WELLS; nay so little fastidious are the Proprietors of that delectable fascinating snuggery, that, however incredible it may appear, they, in some cases, have actually had the liberality to prefer Gold to Paper. Without attempting to investigate their motives for such extraordinary conduct, we shall do them the justice to say, they certainly give an amazing quantum of amusement, _All in One Night_, at the HOUSE ON THE HEATH, where, besides the THREE CRUMPIES, AND THE BARON AND HIS BROTHERS, an immense number of fashionables are expected on MERLIN’S MOUNT, and some of the first Cambrian families will countenance HARLEQUIN CYMRAEG, in hopes to partake of the _Living Leek_, which being served up the last thing before supper, will constitute a most excellent Christmas carminative, preventing the effects of night air on the crowds who will adorn this darling little edifice. In addition to a most effective LIGHT COMPANY engaged here, a very respectably sized _Moon_ will be in attendance to light home a greater number of Patrons than ever this popular petted Palace of Pantomime is likely to produce. We say nothing of warmth and comfort, acquired by recent improvements, because these matters will soon be subjects of common conversation, and omit noticing the happiness of Half-price, and the cheering qualities of the Wine-room, fearful of wounding in the bosom of the Manager that innate modesty which is ever the concomitant of merit; we shall therefore conclude, by way of invitation to the dubious, in the language of an elegant writer, by asserting that the _Proof of the Pudding is in_--VERBUM SAT.” NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR. Mean Temperature 37·12. [15] In the New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 1825 [16] Mr. Nichols’s Progresses of James I. [17] Gentleman’s Magazine. [18] Ibid. ~January 7.~ 1826. _Distaff’s Day._[19] * * * * * STANZAS ON THE NEW YEAR. I stood between the meeting years, The coming and the past, And I ask’d of the future one, Wilt thou be like the last? The same in many a sleepless night, In many an anxious day? Thank Heaven! I have no prophet’s eye To look upon thy way! For Sorrow like a phantom sits Upon the last Year’s close. How much of grief, how much of ill, In its dark breast repose! Shadows of faded Hopes flit by, And ghosts of Pleasures fled: How have they chang’d from what they were! Cold, colourless, and dead. I think on many a wasted hour, And sicken o’er the void; And many darker are behind, On worse than nought employ’d. Oh Vanity! alas, my heart! How widely hast thou stray’d And misused every golden gift For better purpose made!