At Day's end, Vigils walked Christmas home, and the shortest Day left in a black fog.
Day being ended, the Days called for their cloaks & great-coats & took their leaves. Lord Mayor’s Day went off in a mist as usual; Shortest Day in a deep black Fog that wrapt the little gentleman all round like a hedgehog. Two Vigils—so watchmen are called in heaven—saw Christmas Day safe home—they had been used to the business before. Another Vigil—a stout, sturdy patrole, called the Eve of St. Christopher—